Chapter 1

There's a statue that stands in the Canterlot Gardens that's not quite the same as the others. It depicts what they call a Draconequus, a mish-mash of features from creatures of every shape and every size. The detail is exquisite, but something seems off with the pose. Its face wears a visage of terror. The misshapen mouth gapes open in a scream. Eagle claw and lion paw are outstretched as if trying to fend off some horrible foe...

Because, as I'm sure you've imagined, being on the wrong side of the Elements of Harmony is not as enviable a position as it sounds. When the most powerful magic in all Equestria is arrayed against you, letting them get your good side is not the first thing on your mind.

Or perhaps it is. Don’t be afraid to admit it; I’m not one to judge.

Now, where was I?

Oh, yes, right -- Yes, I am that statue of which I speak: Discord! Spirit of Chaos, Lord of Disorder... and exhibit in the Canterlot Statue Gardens. Oh, how the mighty have fallen. There was a time once when I was feared and respected. Back when I was free, they used to tremble at the very sound of my name. These days, however, they’re all lining up to take souvenir pictures with “that dreadful-looking statue over by the rose bushes.” It’s just not enough for these ponies that I’m down, you see. They have to kick me to boot.

So you must understand that I’m terribly, awfully, monstrously mad. How could I not be? I’ve done nothing but sit and look nice in Celestia’s yard for eons on end! Do you know how much I could have done with all that time? How insufferably boring it is to stand still all day, every day, for a century and nine-quarters of an hour?

How half of all gossip that comes out of a pony’s mouth has to do with the weather?

        Ahem.

But to dwell on such matters is to live in the past, and it’s a pain in the rear to mess with the past. The future, on the other hand, is not set in stone, so it’s much more exciting to think on the things yet to come.

Such as my imminent escape.

The spell that's been keeping me under lock and key has been weakening as of late. Little by little, year by year. Not that any pony has cared enough to notice. Perhaps if they'd ever bothered to wipe off the bird droppings, or give me a shine, they might have spotted the sinister-looking crack that's begun to spread across my base. Celestia might have been informed, and the spell might have been reinforced with double-bonds. That's complacency for you, though. Certainly not my fault that they've failed to notice the signs.

I, on the other hand, have had very little to do but pay attention to such minute details as these, and I do believe that today is the day I get free.

(Gasp!)

It’s true! And as a consummate liar, I don’t say that lightly. I’ve been poking and prodding and carefully watching my prison for years. I know just how strong it is, and I know that right now I’m stronger. After spending so long in decline, the spell's but a shell of its former self, a rather cheap substitute for something that could contain the awesome might of Discord.

So I think it's time that we put it to the test, and see how miserably it fails.

There's still a terrific strain involved, of course -- even when weakened, the power of Harmony's a respectable force -- but it's doable. The trick is to throw yourself against the spell until one of you breaks. No panache to the procedure, but I do so like to break things.  

Great chunks of stone begin to flake off of my body, and for the first time in a century, I can feel the warm summer air on my scales. Doesn't that feel good! Sure, the muscles feel stiff and my back is killing me, but I'm free as a bird, and more handsome by far. The last remnants of my statuefied form slough off with a shake, making my escape official. A round of applause, fillies and gentlecolts: Discord is free!

And there are witnesses too! A couple of tourist ponies from some rural backlot I can't care to name. Their eyes are bulging in shock, and it looks just like they're ready to give a shout. A quick bit of magic fixes that wonderfully, though, and before you know it, they're a beautiful pair of butterflies. Much more colorful, far less yappy, and altogether unlikely to sound the alarm. That's a marked improvement over the original model, and I didn't even have to make them into statues.

Everywhere I look, there are more ponies who’ve had the honor of seeing my triumphant return. It’s a crying shame that none of them can finish their sentences, though.

"Hel--"

"It's Disc--"

"Run for i--"

All of the above from ponies who are -- rather mysteriously -- transformed into a chicken, a tree, and a three-toucan trombone ensemble before they can get all the words out. Honestly, you leave for a century and suddenly no pony remembers how to carry on a good conversation.

Discounting those unfortunate incidents, however, I'm ultimately very satisfied with my tour of the Gardens. A stroll through Equestria's newest madhouse was just what I needed to stretch out my legs and get back in the game. Flooding the labyrinth with shaving cream was a brilliant move, if I do say so myself, and the bees in the bird-feeders... Discord, aren't you a genius?

You’d never have guessed that this place was once orderly, or that half of the wildlife used to have hooves. No, no. You'd look at the puce-painted statues and gaze on the just-planted palm trees, and be too overwhelmed to think much about it. I'd lose my mind in it too if I stared long enough. Chaos is just so bewitching that way.

All said and all done, I'd call this an excellent warm-up, a glorious sign of things yet to come.

“And now,” I whisper, staring up at the Canterlot Castle. “I think it’s time we move on to the main event.”

In a corner of the Gardens that’s not quite as insane as the others, an off-key trombone wails to herald the end.

        And it’s music to my ears.