The Caribou called it the Blood Forest. A massive, winding trail of stakes and impaled ponies, surrounding Ponyville, several outlying hamlets, and the Everfree Forest. Ironically, it was the only place in Equestria that still grew green, protected by the magical essence of the blood of so many ponies that had spilled across it. But to Dinky Doo, it represented the biggest horror of the known world. The genocide of nearly the entire pony race. With every patch of green grass and blood-red flowers, her lips curled more in disgust. With a snort, she crushed one delicate flower into the dirt, then looked up to scan her… comrades.

Seeing all these ponies again was… disconcerting. Dozens of Guards, merchants from Canterlot, or even foals from its school: all were clustered in the Blood Forest, working to carefully remove the preserved bodies from the stake prisons and lay them out in neat rows. They looked nothing like the zombies Dinky had always heard and read about in her studies of the darker forms of magic. Twilight had always been very thorough in her teachings, and her warning. Shadow magic could grip one’s soul, delivering illusions of grandeur to rival that of Sombra. Mind control could backfire in an instant if not done correctly, leaving the caster a drooling husk. And necromancy…

“Remember Dinky. Dragging a pony’s soul back from the Summer Fields and jamming it into a rotting corpse…”

Twilight Sparkle, gleaming in her royal regalia, shuddered where she stood, and her violet eyes cast over to a small mirror.

“You could lose your own soul in the process.”

So what had Twilight been doing then? It was raising the dead. All of these ponies, with their glowing red eyes and auras of magic keeping them together… was this not what her teacher had meant? Had she not dragged them back from the Summer Fields? Sighing softly, Dinky Doo reached out with her magic as she looked up at the nearest stake. It would be a question to ask her later, once her orders to gather all the bodies had been carried out. The young apprentice simply had to figure this out, especially before she could go back and bring the small colonies of still living ponies out to meet their Princess. She-

A shift of the breeze blew a waft of blonde mane towards Dinky’s nose, and she froze, tears rising quickly. No… no, no, please don’t let it… A single peek up was all it took, and tears spilled from Dinky’s eyes, a wrenching sob forcing its way out like a cannonball. Ditzy Doo hung limply on the blood-drenched stake, head bowed and eyes closed. Her wings had been sliced off and pinned over her head, like a macabre crown of feathers. Her long blond mane, one of her only vanities, drifted in the wind. The stake beside her held Sparkler, Dinky’s half-sister and best friend. Her eyes were wide open, staring in unseeing grief towards her mother. Her horn, longer than most unicorns’, had been sawed off and jammed into her stomach.

Rage and sorrow warred like titans in Dinky’s mind, and she dropped to her stomach in the soft grass, gritting her teeth as the pressure grew like a bomb in her mind. Her mother had been the best in the world. She had given up everything to give her daughters the best chance at life. The most food, the best schooling she could afford, making sure Dinky had met and befriended Twilight… made sure she was hidden safely when the Caribou came… Her hooves slammed into her forehead, and the pressure snapped with a wordless howl. The air around her crackled and snarled with magical bursts, some freezing stakes around her while others scorched the grass and flowers into ash. One of Dinky’s armored hooves slammed into the ground beneath her, and she could practically feel the magic of death beneath them all. No… Dinky could feel it.

With a loud cry of mad determination, the unicorn rose to her hooves, sobbing out a single word as she put her her hooves to the stakes, burning them to ash but keeping her family aloft with her magic.

“PLEASE!”

Love necromancy felt like no other kind of magic Dinky had ever tried. The initial surge burned. It burned with a white-hot fire that purged the caster’s mind of all but the intent. Dinky was fine with that. She just wanted her family back. As the fire died, the love rushed in like a cooling river, filling the void the fire had left, and rushing headlong from her trembling horn. Memories and emotions rushed through her mind- her mother’s hugs, the games she had played with Sparkler, her relationship with the Crusaders… Every memory of love and affection flashed through her mind’s eye in a fraction of a second, and Dinky burst into tears. How had Twilight managed to stay so… calm?

Above her, the magic was beginning to take shape. Red tendrils shimmered into existence as they encircled Ditzy Doo, two gently taking hold of her amputated wings and sliding them down to the bloody stumps on her back. Magic surged up Dinky’s spine, and as a gasp tugged its way through her clenched muzzle, the wings reattached to her mother with a silent flash. At the same time, she began to stir, red life gleamed behind the mailmare’s eyelids. Beside her, the horn removed itself from Sparkler’s stomach, a red field shimmering over the wound. A significantly larger magical surge roared through Dinky as the horn reattached itself, leaving her sobbing softly on the loamy soil. It was so much power, so much emotion, she wasn’t sure she could do this. How-

“M-muffin?”

All at once, the roaring in Dinky’s ears fell away, and her head snapped up. Ditzy Doo, mailmare and best mother in the world, was staring down at Dinky in shock, tears dripping down her muzzle. For the first time, Ditzy’s eyes weren’t crossed, and for some reason Dinky missed that. But that sadness was completely overwhelmed by the tidal wave of emotion.

“MAMA!” the experienced, tough survivor pony wailed, throwing herself against Ditzy as she landed on the ground, tightly wrapping her hooves around Ditzy’s neck.

Twenty years of loneliness, of forcing her emotions down deep so she could help keep her friends alive, poured out in a river of tears, soaking the soft fur of Ditzy’s nape. Despite the ash and blood that had soaked it, it still carried the comforting muffin-and-ozone overtones that Dinky remembered as a foal, and that only made her cry harder. A soft tongue dragged across Dinky’s ears, and Ditzy’s forelegs enfolded her into a crushing hug.

“I-I’ve got you, muffin,” Ditzy whispered shakily, emotions thickening it, “Y-you got so big…”

“A-about as big as me now, squirt.”

Sparkler hugged against Dinky’s side, wetness from tears smearing across her neck. As Dinky met her big sister’s red eyes, she was surprised to see the amount of joy behind them.

“S-sparkler… I-I’m so-”

A purple hoof gently pressed to Dinky’s muzzle, and Sparkler simply shook her head, smiling soothingly. No apologies. Only hugs. That was all the family needed from each other at that moment. Nothing but love.

***********************

The Caribou had not been kind to the Elements of Harmony. Tears dripped down Twilight Sparkle’s muzzle as she stared down at the bodies of her five friends, carefully removed from their stakes by a trio of Royal Guards. All of whom were curled on the ground nearby, wracking sobs running through their bodies. It was horrific. Fluttershy, with her core of inner strength, had desperately fought to save her animal friends. Her hooves were shattered, and her muzzle was coated with dried Caribou blood, but ultimately it had been a futile battle. Those Caribou that had captured her had sliced out her eyes a blade, leaving them bloodied, milky orbs. Both wings had been hacked off and pinned above her head, every feather ripped out beforehand. It took a supreme effort of will for Twilight to not break down in tears for the fate of her quiet friend.

Rainbow Dash had not made it easy for the Caribou. Her hoof-blades, now buried in her stomach, had been heavily notched and soaked in Caribou blood prior to her execution, and her eyes had been wide open, staring balefully out where the Caribou soldiers would have been. A brand of the Caribou Nation had been seared over both cutie marks, but the colors of her lightning bolt rainbow still proudly shined through, unwilling to be covered. As with all the pegasi, her wings had been sliced off as well, though these were pinned beneath Rainbow, soaked in her own blood and waste, an affront to her most precious body parts. Twilight would remember it. As would Scootaloo, who sat guard beside the body of her honorary big sister, trying stubbornly not to cry for all to see.

Gorgeous Rarity had been abused and debased for all to see. Her alabaster coat was filthy with mud and fluids, and some sadistic Caribou had branded her stomach with the word “Whore.” Her horn had been sawed off, and jammed up into her nethers, and it had taken another act of will during Twilight’s removal of the appendage. Her face had taken a serious beating, but somehow her regalness had remained firmly in place, which probably accounted for the fire that scorched her back. The Caribou had done everything in their power to make Rarity lose her composure and, if Sweetie Bell’s sobbing story was to be believed, they had failed.

Pinkie Pie had been… practically destroyed, pieces of her body hacked off and tossed haphazardly around her stake. One of the Guards had fallen to the ground when he had approached, gagging and retching horribly. Her once bouncy, fanciful mane had been shaved completely off, and her muzzle had been enclosed in a tight iron muzzle. A collar had been fitted around her neck, and Twilight had been able to tell it had been enchanted for electricity. The nodes inside were blackened, and covered in her friend’s blood.

Applebloom had demanded that she be the only one to touch Applejack’s body, and it had been hard for Twilight to not step in and assist the young mare as she removed the mutilated corpse from her stake. With a small sob, Applejack’s youngest sibling had laid the body of her big sister beside her friends, hooves shaking heavily. The Caribou had lost many fighters taking Sweet Apple Acres, and they had taken it out on Applejack. Her body showed the marks of dozens of knives, and her nethers were heavily bruised and bloodied. One blade had sliced across her neck, coating her barrel in a fountain of blood. Her father’s hat had been kicked and torn in the dirt, finally left pinned to the stake so it could be soaked in her blood. Before Twilight could step in, Applebloom gave a wordless howl, stomping fitfully on the ground, not noticing the grass around her dying with small pulses of necromantic energy.

“Pl-please Twilight… bring them back,” Sweetie Bell begged shakily, tears staining her white muzzle, “I-I need my sister…”

“And you shall have her.”

And so she began.
******************

Three thousand miles to the north, beyond the northernmost mountains of the Crystal Empire, lay the harsh, rugged lands of the Caribou Nation. Snow-covered during most of the year, it was a dark grey as Fjolnir Steelhoof marched towards the Hall of Conquerors. A broad marble slab against a sea of marble slabs, the Hall was only recognizable by the rows upon rows of gilded statues in front of it. Every time the Grand Marshal of the Caribou Nation headed to work, he preferred to stop and admire the accomplishments of himself and his forebears. For thousands of years, the Caribou armies had marched, raiding and conquering wherever they tread. A silver statue of a stag stood to one side, his mighty antlers gilded in gold. That had been Fjolnir’s first conquest- the Deer Kingdoms. It had taken a mighty army of forty thousand infantry, three thousand armored battlewagons, and the first use of their biomagical toxins to break the Deer’s stubborn defense of their forested homeland. Their magic and woodcraft had not made it easy, but Caribou stubbornness, and a few well-placed fires, had done the job. Those that survived the battle, and the Breaking, had been placed in Caribou breeding battalions, to add the Deer’s natural magic to the Caribou Nation’s already considerable repertoire.

All down the walkway stood the statues, but the one’s that truly caught his eye laid at the end, nearest the doors. Fjolnir’s greatest triumph, his masterpiece of war and planning. The two Alicorn sisters of the pony kingdom of Equestria. Celestia sat on her haunches, gazing up at the door behind her in longing and adoration. At least, that is what the artist had gone for as he sculpted the molten gold as it cooled around the unconscious alicorn’s regal body. Luna, the supposed ‘Warmistress’ of Equestria, stood braced in the typical Breeding position, head pointed towards the ground, body tightly wrapped in silver and platinum, melted from the Equestrian treasury. Fjolnir had seen the Princesses’ flank, and he still regretted not taking advantage when he had the chance.

Those monstrous bitches had outwitted and outplayed his armies at every turn. The Battle of Manehatten had cost his navy, already a massive undertaking of Caribou resources, all of its battleships, most of its cruisers, and left only a few destroyers to limp home. Their submarines and Sea Pony allies had made his life a living hell on the seas, so Fjolnir had turned to the air. Two thousand biplanes and zeppelins had crossed the Crystal Empire’s mountains, laying waste to that country… only to be shot down to a buck as soon as they crossed into Equestria by an armada of single-winged planes and armored flying ships, all backed up by clouds of pegasi. His invasions were utter failures, and each had cost the grizzled general much in hide and prestige. Desperate for a win, he had sent his entire army, over two million Caribou all, charging against Equestria.

Fjolnir should have turned back at the Crystal Empire; it would have saved him many troops who would have been of better use now against the Gryphons. The Crystal Pony army had shattered on the field, but none of Fjolnir’s siege engines and artillery could penetrate the shield and wall around their capital so, after sacking its farmland and leaving a blockading rearguard, his Caribou had marched onwards. Luna herself had met his army just north of Fillydelphia, leading a small armored force of Equestrian tanks, the P-45a Wolf. The old general still shuddered at its memory. Steel plating that could turn even the largest shell fired by his battlewagons, and sporting a 7.5 cm barrel, the Wolves had shredded his battlewagon charge from a mile away, and machine-gun fire had chewed the army behind it apart. In one battle, the Equestrian army had blunted his attack, and began to drive the Caribou back, one line, one trench, at a time. If it hadn't been for the High Priest’s plan…

Shaking his head, Fjolnir gave a small smirk as he gazed up at the gems adorning the door to the Hall. It no longer mattered. Equestria was gone, and Fjolnir’s son would soon take the Crystal Kingdom. They had lost their Princesses, their lives, and their Elements. The ponies may have caused Fjolnir a lifetime’s worth of pain and frustration, but they had bled far, far worse in the end. And so caught up with his own gloating, the old Caribou commander never noticed the gems, the last hope of Equestria, begin to gleam in the dull twilight of the Sun-Moon.

Author's Notes:

Phew! That... that was a tough chapter!

Now then! I did not put Romance tags on this for no reason, but I leave this up to you all! Let me know which pairings you would like to see in this story!

Just remember the setting. These ponies may not be the same ponies you quite remember.