Fields near Whitby. April 14th, 2025.

A man named David Elliot stood by a body. The body was a friend, or it had been, once. Though the small blue body and blonde mane of a Pegasus stallion with a hole in his head and a broken wing lay before him, it was not the form with which he was most familiar. Not long ago, this Pegasus had been a man. A man with blonde hair, about half an inch taller than David Elliot, stood over what was left of him now. A man who had, despite becoming very grim in these last few years, always had a cheeky grin and a twinkle in his eyes. A man who was dead.

Dead by David Elliot's own hand.

Elliot, thirty, battered and bruised, stood over the body, an unlit torch in hand. This man was... had been... his friend, Sam Lake. He had been his friend for many years. It sickened Elliot that he had needed to do this, to kill his friend, but… in the heat of battle there had been no time: no time to think, no time to stop this from happening. There had only been adrenaline pumping his veins, the smell of fire and death on the air, and the growing realisation that he had to do this… or else far more than one good man would be lost.

"Brothers and sisters, we are here to commemorate the dead," a voice rang out, strident, across the field. “These warriors have given their lives for the cause. They have made the ultimate sacrifice so that humankind and free ponies may live to fight on against tyranny."

The speaker was a member of the New Gaian cult, one of the many cults that had sprung up following the Barrier's stopping. Something about the time seem to inspire a host of new beliefs, and the New Gaians were not the weirdest of the bunch. The Dead Men, the Eternal Flame, The Long Watch of Britannia, a thousand more different cults of different sizes and types… and that was without counting cults like the country-sized Sanctified Republic of Gilead come up during the death of Earth, or the resurgence of ancient cults like the Kali worshippers of India, or the Nu-Aztec sacrifices in Mexico. The death of Earth had been the birth of a thousand terrible things in humanity, but fortunately most of them died with her. Though no one really thought the human race was collectively sane any more, none of them would ever reach those depths. They knew the price.

"For them, the war is done, and may they find peace beyond it," the speaker continued. "Therefore it is with proud honour and solemn dignity that we commit the bodies of our fallen brothers and sisters to the fire. They will become part of the air we breathe, that we have been allowed to continue breathing thanks to them. They will become part of the Earth that they have fought for so long to protect. In this way, though they have left us, they never will. Though they are gone, they will never die. Cremation party!"

Elliot stepped up, torch in hand.

“Light up!” the speaker yelled.

David held up a lighter and lit the torch. The light flickered, casting new shadows over the dead Pegasus’ face.

***

A long time ago…

”So, if you had to convert, which would you wanna be?” Sam asked.

David looked up, frowning, tablet on his lap. The two of them were sat in a cafe near David's workplace. Sam was smirking as he drank a coffee, where David had a glass of coke in front of him that he would occasionally take sips from.

The news on the tablet was talking about the reveal of the recently developed "ponification potion". After discovery of life beyond the anomaly - now revealed to be an inter-dimensional portal - and the establishing of diplomatic contact with the government of the land of Equestria, there had been much hoo-hah about the fact that humans could not travel to Equestria, the portal's Barrier preventing any human or man-made object from passing through. This potion apparently transformed the human body into an equine one, allowing safe passage - the side effect was, of course, transformation into a pony, but despite the fact that there was apparently no reverse potion, people were reasonably optimistic - now, Earth and Equestria could get one properly.

Elliot tapped away, finishing the last sentence of a short story he had been writing (he had aspirations of being a writer, though he never seemed to have the time to work on anything), before turning to his friend.

“Why d’you ask?” he asked in return, raising an eyebrow at the question. “Were you planning on converting?”

“Pfft, fuck no,” Sam laughed, sitting back. “I happen to like my face, and they’ve not said anything about being able to reverse it yet. Nah, I just wondered. Y’know, hypothetical like.”

David sat back. It was an interesting hypothetical.

"Dunno," he said. "In all honesty, I don't think I'd want to. I quite like being human."

"Seems fair," Sam said with a shrug. "I heard a few folks talking about how they'd want to change. You know - think it'd be an experience."

"I'm sure it would be an experience," David retorted. "A permanent one. As an experiment, sure, I wouldn't mind having hooves for a bit, seeing how the other side live. But they've not announced a reversal potion - seems a pretty big life choice some folks'd make."

Sam shrugged. "I ain't disagreeing."

"Anyway," David said with a small smile. "I'm sure they'll figure some other way past that Barrier soon. These ponies seem reasonable enough."

"Hope they don't try being judgemental about all the wars and shit," Sam muttered idly.

"There's no such thing as a place without war," David pointed out. "I mean, you saw the diplomatic stuff, right? Their Princess - what was her name? Celestian?"

"Celestia," Sam corrected. "Celestian was the name of those Sister of Battle units, remember?"

"Oh, yeah," David said with a nod. "I remember that one guy... anyway," he said, shaking his head and getting back on track. "She had Guards with her, didn't she? They looked like some sort of elite group. All that gold armour."

"Ceremonial guards?" Sam asked.

"Why would you have ceremonial guards if you didn't have actual soldiers, or even the concept of war?" David pointed out. "Nah, they'd be arsewipes to start judging us for having wars. That's a sentient thing. People - and pastel ponies - will always have disputes, and those disputes will lead to wars sometimes."

"Huh," Sam said, shrugging. "Between you and me, I don't think I'd want to have a war with the pastel ponies. Fuck knows what they've got."

"Like I said, they seem reasonable enough," David said idly. "I wouldn't worry about it."

***

"Ignite!” the barking voice of the New Gaian shouted, cutting across David’s thoughts. He frowned at the body one last time, before setting it on fire.

“I failed you,” he muttered. “I’m sorry, mate.”

He stepped back from the body, and looked dead ahead. He couldn’t save his friend - he didn’t have the power. He was just one man.

One day, he hoped, he would have the power to stop such tragedies. One day, he fervently wished, he would be able to make a difference...