Introduction

Good day, Fillies and Gentlecolts. What you are about to read is a factual retelling of the events that led up to, and occurred during, what has come to be known as World War Z. Though occasionally referred to by a few different monikers (The Zombie Apocalypse, The Plague of Trotting Death, and The Blackness to name a few), the name is unimportant. Once the subject is brought up, anypony on Equestria would recognize it as the event that changed the world. What we know about the prelude to the apocalypse was gathered solely from the notes and diary of the one pony that can be credited as the progenitor of the Zombies. While nearly universally vilified for her actions, this documentary aims to shed light on a different point of view; hers. And while this in no way removes the blood of the ponies that have died as the result of her actions, it does serve a purpose as a cautionary tale. When you mix obsession and desperation, no good can come of it. The rest of the narrative begins by following the spread of the disease based on the first-pony accounts of those who were there and survived. After the initial outbreak and some formative events from the childhood of a “Generation Z” pony (one who was born just before or after the initial outbreak, hence Generation Z[ombie]), we pick up the narrative based on the account of a cerulean earth pony named Hope, as she struggles to survive in the post-apocalyptic Equestria.

The following account is based off of a relic scrounged from the twisted depths of the Everfree forest. This relic of arcane design is best described as a memory orb, though there has never before been a confirmed sighting of one, let alone the real McCoy. How I came into possession of this one is a secret I shall take to the grave, more for fear of what should happen if I break my word than anything else. All you need to know is that through assorted dealings with ponies who have a reputation for being able to acquire anything and everything, I heard lore of something never before seen. Something which was having an especially significant impact on unicorns, causing them to babble incoherently and cry and ultimately driving them all quite mad.

Of course, I was interested and over the next few months I made some less than legal deals and bargains in order to obtain this object. And finally, I have it here in my hooves. The pony I bought it from seemed to be relieved to get rid of it. This pony claimed that the darkness had begun to whisper to them since this had come into their possession. Naturally, this made me even more curious. As soon as I got back to my home, I locked the door and reached out my magic to touch the sphere. I was shocked as my magic passed through it like it wasn’t even there. Curious, I reached my magic deeper into it and almost recoiled when the world around me began to lighten. I paused, and the room got no brighter. Feeling far bolder than I should have, I pumped all the magic I could into the orb.

Everything went white as the orb took over, and I found myself looking out upon a scene unlike anything I'd ever seen in my life. The sun seemed brighter, the colors more vivid, and all the ponies seemed as if they hadn't a care in the world. None of them had the lingering pain and constant watchfulness that was omnipresent in the world. After a moment of confusion, I finally grasped what this was. This was a memory orb containing a memory from before the world went to Haydes in a saddlebag. I was living the memories of another pony! As it turns out, I was only half right. Turns out, I wasn’t in the memories of a pony.

In her time in the Everfree Forest, Zecora had spent much time learning the ways of the plants and animals that live there, making friends with both. As a child, she had been left in the Everfree forest to fend for herself, armed with only her wits; such was the custom of her tribe. Adhering to tradition, she set out to find her own place in the forest to call home. After several days of walking with little food and less water, Zecora was delirious with dehydration and exhaustion. As she could stand no longer, she collapsed to the ground in exhaustion, and her vision swam. Out of the tangled mass of hues of green, a shape detached itself and approached her. This is the last thing she recalls for several days.

When she awoke, she at first thought she was dead, though it didn’t make sense…if she was dead, she shouldn’t feel pain. As her senses returned to her, she began to pick out details of her surroundings. She was in a hammock, suspended between two massive branches of a tree. As she looked around she could tell that she was inside a tree home. About this time a young adult earth pony walked into view with a bowl of food on his back and a bucket of water in his mouth. He was an average height for a stallion, his coat a shade of green not dissimilar to that of the forest. His cutie mark was a group of three trees, and they seemed to be growing out of the verdant field of his flank. She took all this in within a moment, before she locked on to his eyes. This pony's eyes are the exact shade of poison joke; Zecora finds them riveting and struggles to look away. The older pony cracks a relieved smile, and then addresses the zebra in the hammock.

"It's good to see you are awake, m'toto. I was getting worried the fever was more severe than I thought."

This is Zecora's first recollection of her longtime friend, companion, and mentor, Farasi Asili. Ever since that day, "Fossi" had mentored Zecora in the ways of the forest and natural remedies, as both a teacher and a father. Throughout her childhood, they spent innumerable hours together in the forest, and shared in many of the triumphs and pitfalls associated with learning its secrets. Fossi so greatly preferred the Everfree forest and its creatures to the company of "civilized" ponies, that nopony other than Zecora had seen either hide or hair of him in over 20 years. It was under his mentorship that she had blossomed into the mare she had become, a veritable master of natural cures. Fossi was the one pony that Zecora could talk to about anything at all, with no pretense. After all, she was his m'toto…his child.

The striped mare was walking through Ponyville on yet another bright, pleasant day, enjoying the efforts of the Weather Squad. As she passed through town, Zecora was astonished by how much things had changed since she had first wandered into town so many years ago. For as long as she could remember, her arrival to Ponyville was preceded by a mad scramble as ponies hurriedly barricaded themselves indoors. It was all she had ever known, and she came to accept it as normal. She would gather what supplies she could and leave payment on the stoop of whichever shop had "provided" it for her. All that had changed shortly after the arrival of that wonderful lavender unicorn, Twilight. Since that day, ponies no longer hid from her, she had even begun to make friends. As she befriended the ponies of Ponyville, she was struck by the desire to help these ponies in any way she could, as her longtime friend had done for her. She found that she could contribute a little bit to the overall welfare of Ponyville by contributing her vast knowledge of healing plants in the form of tonics and salves.

Thus we find Zecora doing her monthly supply run to gather supplies to package her herbal remedies. While on these errands, she would visit the nurse at the local health clinic to drop off some of her now-famous cure-alls. As she once again drops off her wares to Nurse Redheart, the physician can’t help but proclaim:

“Zecora, I don’t know what we would do without your potions, tonics and salves. They truly are a blessing, and the mark of a great herbalist.”

To this, Zecora can only respond:

“I am only glad that I can help my friends. My reward is saving ponies from undue illness and untimely ends.”

To this, Nurse Redheart can only nod in concurrence; she understood quite well the satisfaction of helping nurse the injured back to health. After Zecora finished her supply run and waved goodbye to everypony, she turned and began the trek back to her home in the Everfree, passing through the construction zone around the bell tower in Ponyville's town square. They appeared to be removing the old, cracked bell from the tower in order to replace it with a much larger, shinier bell. Zecora wondered what would become of the old bell… Lost in thought, she enters the outskirts of Ponyville, on her way back to the Everfree.

Shortly after leaving town, her peaceful daydream was shattered by a loud rumble and an otherworldly gonging, which was cut short by more rumbling. Even as she turned, shrieks of terror reached her ears. As she faced Ponyville, she could see the rising dust coming from where the old bell tower once stood. Her heart skipped a beat as it shifted into overdrive, beating a staccato rhythm on her ribcage. Without a second thought, she unhooked her cart and set off at a mad dash towards the scene of the collapse. As she drew near, she could see Big Mac digging at the rubble with vigor she had never seen the relaxed pony exhibit before. As some ponies stood around in shock and others simply cried, Lyra melted out of the crowd to join Zecora and Mac. The trio joined forces to remove the rubble; Mac using his strong physique to shift the larger debris, Zecora digging out whatever she could get her hooves on and Lyra floating rubble away with her magic. It took all of their combined efforts to shift the once-new bell out of the rubble.

Even while riding the surge of adrenaline that gave them almost super-pony strength, it took all they had to dislodge the now crumpled monolith of bronze out of the rubble. Zecora couldn’t help but wonder if the weight of the bell was too much for the ancient structure, but her mind was quickly re-focused on the task at hand. Between the intermittent sobs, bits of conversation drift through to the excavators.

“Is there someone in there?”

“Yeah, I saw it all happen. He’s buried…”

“…-brown pony. Out of Towner type-…”

“-think his name is Braeburn.”

“That poor pony…hope he is alright…”

Even as this last bit of conversation drifted out of the crowd, the rescuers could tell that the buried pony would not be alright. The rubble began to show stains of a distinct red liquid on it as they neared the victim, causing a new wave of murmurs to pass through the crowd. As they removed the final block, their fears were initially allayed. Aside from a few cuts and bruises and a right foreleg that seemed to have a few too many joints in it, Braeburn looked like he was in pretty good condition, all things considered.

Even as Lyra was levitating the victim into a cart to take him to the clinic, it became apparent that he was far worse off than he initially appeared. His breathing was labored, producing a gurgling sound and occasionally a red bubble would escape his nose. With renewed urgency, the three rescuers loaded him onto a cart and rushed him off to the clinic. Big Mac took the lead in pulling the cart, taking off at a quick trot while the other two tried to comfort Braeburn and keep him from falling out of the cart. In the back of her mind, Zecora was already blaming herself for not grabbing a potion from her cart before she abandoned it. If she had thought ahead and brought one of her healing tonics, she could stabilize him on the way to the clinic, instead of having to race against time and fate to get him to the care he needed.

Even as they drew around the corner to the clinic, Zecora could tell that things were headed south. Her silent cursing had grown from panicked thoughts in her head to loudly muttering under her breath. With each passing moment the gurgling was slowly replaced by hacking and choking, each breath more strained than the last. All three ponies kept casting worried looks back at Braeburn, each in turn becoming more alarmed not only by the growing amount of blood pouring out of his nose, but also the growing panic clearly displayed on his face. Zecora's quiet mutterings were overshadowed by Mac's low pleas to his cousin.

"Hold on Braeburn. Hold on. Keep fightin…y'all can't quit on me. Just hold on...hold on."

Big Mac's words blended together, becoming a litany that grew in volume to match Braeburn's choking gasps. His pace increased to match his voice, an edge of desperation creeping into his usually calm voice, a hint of panic showing up in his demeanor. Each bump in the road elicited a new groan from the patient in the cart, a short coughing fit, or otherwise just involuntary spasms. Shortly after leaving the site of the collapse, blood had begun to drip from the corner of the cart. A steady pattern of drops traced their path through the streets of Ponyville. Zecora can't help but think of the drops as an hourglass with no bottom, suspended over a void; each drop of blood, a grain of sand. As each grain is gone forever as it falls to the void, the drops of blood are no less permanently gone. Knowing that there is no way to upturn the glass and restore the sand, Zecora can't help but wonder how much sand is left in the glass…how long until time runs out…

The answer to the question nobody wants to ask soon becomes clear. Big Mac's supplications and speed reach a frenzied pitch and pace; the large red stallion's eyes are wide open and darting around feverishly. Despite galloping for all her worth to keep pace with Mac, Zecora cannot tear her eyes from Braeburn. Each passing second his eyes grow wider; his face grows more ashen, sunken. The crimson bubbles are no longer being produced as frequently, the choking sounds diminishing. Big Mac called out that they were almost there, pleading with his cousin not to give up the fight. Zecora watched as Braeburn violently convulsed, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. Even as they skidded to a halt in front of the clinic, the three rescuers could tell that this was no longer a makeshift ambulance. With Braeburn's final rattling exhalation, this cart had become a hearse.

Zecora was renowned throughout Ponyville as a veritable guru of holistic cures. Almost any malady caused by nature or the Mane 6, Zecora had an herbal remedy for. Unfortunately, all the curing tonics and potions in Equestria can’t help ponies unable to get the medicine in time. Time and time again, she either heard of the tragic passing of a pony, or worse, a sick or injured pony that expired just before they could receive lifesaving medical care. For one who cared so much about her new friends and acquaintances, the agony of losing a pony that she was certain could have been helped wore greatly on Zecora. The usually content mare would always adopt a somber demeanor for a few days after each one of these losses. One incident above all else pushed Zecora to the brink of madness, and lead to the fall of Ponykind.

After this most recent trauma, Zecora sought Fossi out from his highly secluded home in the canopy of the Everfree for council. Fossi listened to the beginning of her story, and then kindly interrupted his pupil with the suggestion of a stroll through the forest, to a place that she had never before been. Zecora was quite curious as to where she had not been in her years in the Everfree, and therefore most willing to oblige. Walking through the forest was almost always a cure for whatever ailed her, and was always a way for her to raise her spirits.

As they walked, Fossi asked Toto to tell him the story again, from the start. As she explained her desire to help ponies, her frustration and sadness grew with the story of each pony that passed before anypony could get there, before medical help could arrive. She explained that all she wants to do is help, and it crushes her whenever aid doesn’t arrive in time to save a life. She couldn’t help it that she takes each death personally…it is just who she is. With a brief pause and a sigh of utter dejection, Zecora relayed the events of the previous day in Ponyville. In her re-telling, she focused heavily on her failure to bring the potion with her that would have stabilized Braeburn until they arrived at the clinic. After a moment of silent contemplation, Fossi replied:

“Death is a natural part of life. If there were no death to make room, where would the new life grow and live? It is truly sad that some ponies seem to expire before their time, but that is the way it has been for millennia. It is just the way of life.”

Zecora was about to reply when she became aware of the forest around her. She was no longer in the Everfree that she knew, but in a darker place that seemed to be preternaturally silent. The trees were no longer lush and green, but spindly and ragged with an almost gray color. It was as if the pigment had been leached from them by the sheer solemnity of this place. The brush had thinned out to an almost nonexistent state, with but a few bushes populating the forest floor. In the absence of the normal greenery, the forest floor was covered instead by a thick layer of dead leaves, lending the forest a distinct aroma of decay. In all that she could see, and all that she could hear, Zecora could not detect even a trace of animal life. There was no chirping of birds. No rustle of leaves and brush as small critters moved about. No snapping twigs as the larger denizens of the Everfree moved around. Not even the wind stirred to interrupt the silence. Zecora discovered that for reasons she could not entirely fathom, a deep chill pierced her. Though the day had previously been quite temperate, the chill that pierced Zecora could not be alleviated even by the warm rays of sunlight penetrating the canopy. Noticing the change in his student, Fossi stopped and turned towards her.

“I can see it in your eyes. I can feel your discomfort, your apprehension” he said. “When I first stumbled upon this nigh forgotten hollow of the Everfree, I too felt the same chill.”

“Why would you return to a place that sucks the warmth from your soul? This grotto feels like a graveyard…the only things missing are the bones.” Zecora wondered aloud.

“Because you will realize soon enough, there is no other choice. This place calls to you, invites you to discover its secrets; secrets which will reveal to you the true meaning of life and death. Soon, you will see why I say that death is not the worst thing that can happen to a pony. Sometimes, death is but another beginning.”

Though Zecora is accustomed to her teacher’s odd and occasionally foreboding mannerisms, this last exchange spooks her far more than she wants to admit. Without another word, Fossi turns around and continues on the narrow trail through the vast emptiness of the Far Everfree. Through the sparse canopy of this area of forest, Zecora occasionally glimpses tall, jagged mountains, which she is not entirely familiar with. This strikes her as odd since she has lived in the woods since she was but a filly, and was sure she had memorized nearly every feature of the forest. She is in her own world, concentrating on the mountains in an attempt to place them in her known layout of the Everfree. Without warning Fossi stops short, causing her to rear-end him. As Zecora begins to formulate the question of “why did you stop?” Fossi issues an almost inaudible warning:

“Ssshhhhh, Toto. Be very quiet, and do not move a muscle. A Kifo is staring right at us.”

What little warmth this Everfree grotto hadn’t robbed her of already left her instantly, freezing her to the spot as her blood turned to ice. Hardly daring to move her eyes, she searched the path ahead and located the deadly creature. Though the serpent is no more than half as long as a mare is tall, it is possibly the most dangerous creature in all of the Equestria.

A mares’ height long, the serpent is a very bright orange and yellow coloration on its stomach, but a drab green and brown on its back. The color on its back makes it very difficult to detect among the leaf litter on the forest floor. The bright color on its belly is for no reason other than intimidation, to strike fear into its victims. The Kifo has no predators, natural or otherwise. Its' coloring is not a method of self defense, rather one of psychological warfare. Very few who tangle with it survive to tell the tale. While not overtly aggressive, the Kifo has a hair trigger temper, and will attack with the slightest provocation. Since the serpent can slither faster than the average pony can gallop for a short distance, and is known for following its prey for minutes at a time, it is very difficult to escape. Of the few who escape, most are pegasi. Though all of this firmly puts the Kifo on the list of things not to mess with, its venom is what earns it the title of “Death Serpent.”

Without going into too much detail, the venom is cruel in the way it works. It initially paralyses the victim's body, while leaving the head and chest mostly unaffected. This means that the victims are awake, conscious, and capable of speech (if a bit slurred.) This effect is almost immediate. The second stage sets in fully within approximately 20 minutes of the bite. The effect of the second stage is agony, and full paralysis. As stage two sets in, one of the last things to freeze is the face, locking in the grimace of unbearable agony as it does so. The final stage sets in less than an hour after the bite, as the venom begins to take its final toll. The agony subsides, but the paralysis does not. The still fully conscious victim maintains full awareness of their body, allowing them to experience the feeling of their bodily systems shutting down, one by one. The last thing to stop is the heart. The exact moment of death is evident, as the muscles relax and a look of serenity settles upon the countenance of the victim.

All of this passes through Zecora’s mind in an instant, as she recalls one of Fossi’s more dire lessons.

This information is as a tidal wave to her, on which fear for Fossi rises to the top. As if merely contemplating the worst was all the trigger the serpent needed, it struck. In a flash of orange and brown, time stood still. Zecora could see every scale on the serpent’s hide, the way they each caught the light of the forest and shimmered. Zecora was struck by the silly though that this creature would be quite beautiful if it wasn’t for the current circumstances. The moment seemed to hang in the air for an eternity. An eternity in which she was frozen despite all efforts to move. In the blink of an eye, the interminable eons passed; and time began to flow again. Before her beloved mentor could even register the bite, the serpent was slithering away; disappearing into the forest from whence it came. As the horror of the situation became evident, Fossi’s eyes widened in shock as the paralysis struck. Zecora was barely able to catch him and soften his fall, sparing him from a hard, face first landing. As she laid Fossi on the ground, he began to instruct her with a quiet desperation.

“Listen closely, Toto; time is of the essence. Run as fast as you can back to my home. In a glass jar on top of my desk, there is a flower; the Uhai Ua, the Flower of Life. Bring it to me as quickly as you can. When you get back, dump the flower out and rub it into the bite. It is the only way. NOW GO!”

Though numb, and in shock about the potential loss of her closest friend and mentor, Zecora heeded his words without question. As she was sprinting back towards his house with a speed borne of desperation and adrenaline, she is helpless but to wonder if she will get there in time. Zecora immediately pushes the thought from her mind and pushes herself harder, determined not to be too late.

Upon arrival at Fossi’s house, she navigates to his study. This quaint room in his treetop home is packed full of books and specimen jars, on shelves which line every wall in the room. Zecora flashes back to her first visit to the study, so many years ago. She is flooded with memories of her irrational filly fear that the tree could not possibly support all the weight, and would surely collapse as soon as she stepped hoof into the room. Pushing the thoughts from her mind, she quickly goes to the desk and grabs the flower.

Another flashback to her days as a student under Fossi, the hours she spent marveling at its beauty. It looks like a lotus, but the petals are as pure a white as Celestia’s flank and are tipped with a golden color that is almost luminescent. For many moons, she has pondered how it has stayed fresh all these years, showing not the slightest sign of decay.

Her mind snaps back to the current situation and she quickly scoops up the flower and hauls tail back to where her fallen friend lay. As she is runs with all her might, she can see the sun creeping ever closer to the horizon, slowly ticking away the seconds since the bite.

As Zecora breaks through a thicket of shrubs and comes within thirty paces of Fossi, she is momentarily struck dumb by the sight she sees. Her friend and longtime companion is staring at her with a look of abject suffering on his face, features contorted and disfigured by unimaginable suffering. This face will haunt her nightmares until the end of her days. In a split second she recalls that this is only the second stage of the venom, that hope remains for her friend. Spurred on with a renewed energy, she gallops faster than she ever has in her life. As she draws upon her mentor, she stops cold. Nothing in her life or any other could have prepared her for what she sees.

Looking into the twisted countenance of her dear friend, she could see the track of a single tear as it slowly fell from the corner of his eye. The look of suffering on his face was not just one of mortal agony as it had appeared from afar. The gaze of her friend was filled with such sorrow that Zecora would swear to the end of her days that she could physically feel her heart break. The moment they made eye contact, his gaze shifted from one of despair to one of apology. Farasi Asili looked into the very core of his only student and simply said

“I’m sorry.”

Zecora did not know if Fossi had actually spoken, or if he communicated on some other level, nor did she have time to contemplate it. Before her eyes, her ultimate fear was realized. Fossi’s face slipped into a mask of serenity.

All she wanted was a little more time for help to reach the patients, just to give them the strength to hold on just a bit longer…with this goal in mind, she began to work on a pet project, one which she hoped would potentially be distributed to each pony, unicorn, and pegasus in Equestria to buy them time to be healed. Zecora figured if she could slow down a pony's heart and breathing, she could buy them time to be healed. With her mind set on this task she set to work gathering ingredients and studying the folklore of her people, attempting to find mixtures of plants and cures that would have the desired effect.

After her private tragedy in the Everfree grotto, Zecora had gone on hiatus. Or, at least that is what she told the ponies in Ponyville when they inquired about her absence. She left out the reason for her hiatus, though. Fossi had preferred to live in seclusion broken only by mentoring his sole pupil, his surrogate daughter. She thought that his passing should be handled the same way he lived his life; with a quiet dignity, and a seclusion from all but his Toto. Zecora doubted that any in Ponyville even remembered Fossi, which made their bond all the stronger. Now more fully committed to her project than she had been to anything before, every waking moment not dedicated to helping Ponyville was spent on her search for “The Cure.”

The first hurdle to overcome was simply how to test her new cures. She needed a reliable source of subjects who could be subjected to certain circumstances in order to test her cures. After a brief consideration and much internal strife, Zecora finally settled on a candidate: rats. Due to the nature of her experiments, she knew that the other ponies would object without even considering the reason behind it. She would have to have a place for her to conduct her experiments without being disturbed or having anypony accidentally find out the nature of her work. The first step towards her ultimate goal was set in motion: in the darkness under her home, nestled within the roots was a crude room, aboutfour paces square. The room was originally a storage cellar, but she modified it to suit her needs rather easily. After tiling the room in homemade clay tile for cleanliness purposes, Zecora brought in a table and a few holding rooms. She much preferred this term to “cage,” as the word makes her shudder. Thus prepared, Zecora began her first experiment.

After carefully obtaining a few rats that would not be missed, she applied a common poison to one and waited for it to set in. Once the subject was near death, she applied a standard healing potion to the animal. Zecora watched with growing anticipation, then horror, and finally revulsion and defeat as the poor animal expired. This was her first attempt, and she had failed. She now had innocent blood on her hooves. This blood on her hooves was different from any before…she had actually taken the life of a healthy creature; she was the sole perpetrator of this atrocity. The weight of this failure and the implications of her actions weighed heavily upon her for a moment, until she decided that the eventual reward was worth whatever the short term cost would be. If her potion could save even one pony’s life, would it not be worth it? Zecora pressed ahead, desperate for answers and now vindication for yet another death she felt personally responsible for.

To the second subject, she applied a life threatening but not usually fatal injury, and repeated the process with the healing potion. Over the next few days she kept a close watch on the subject, and noticed a slight improvement. This improvement became more pronounced as time went on. Within a week the animal was fully healed, if wary of Zecora. As time goes on, she begins to mix in various substances and other potions, trying to find one that sends her subjects into a subdued, almost hibernating state while speeding the healing process. Though her healing potions work well enough on injuries, the poison continues to be the bane of her experiments. As time wears on, she is met by a success of sorts; first, she begins to extend the survival time of the subjects. As she continues gaining proficiency at treating poison, she begins to incorporate the elements of the two tests into one. As one may expect, the two drugs had interesting reactions when used together, not all of which were very pretty. After a period of months, Zecora had her first success with the combination of afflictions and treatments. She could almost see the light at the end of the tunnel…almost. Her latest candidate soon developed an unknown illness, one which did not abate after nearly a month. When she reapplied the cure, the subject passed away. She was not deterred by this setback, for she had seen a glimmer of hope that she was nearing The Cure.

The next few months passed in a similar fashion, each new revision bringing a new set of symptoms and challenges. No matter what she tried, Zecora still felt as if she were chasing her tail. Her mounting obsession was slowly being noticed by the town’s ponies, as was the curious disappearance of so many small animals. Every now and again on her midnight “collection runs” in which she gathered the necessary test subjects; she would come across Fluttershy. This pale yellow and pink Pegasus, despite her timid nature, was prowling the Everfree forest at night to try and scare off the animal that was harassing the small creatures. Zecora felt bad about deceiving the sweet, loving mare, but seeing no other option was forced to do it. More than the testing on small animals, it was these occasional fibs that had the greatest impact on Zecora’s moral compass. Could what she was doing really be right if she had to lie to her friends about it? The voice in the back of her head whispered to her:

“Your friends would never understand why you are doing this; could never understand. They have not seen what you have seen; lost what you have lost. Who are they to judge? Nopony, that’s who.”

Somewhere deep down, Zecora knew that this voice was wrong…but it made so much sense, said exactly what she needed to hear to keep going, that she ignored the other feeling. This moment marked the first step down the path that would seal the fate of Equestria.

It was the morning of the middle of the week. Zecora gathered her supplies and headed out into the forest, fulfilling a promise she had made over a year ago. By mid-morning, she had arrived at Fossi’s grave, in that all too familiar grotto in the woods.

“Hello there, old friend. It is good to see you again.” She said.

Silence was the only reply. As it always was. Zecora came here every week to keep a promise she had made to someone who would never hear it. She talks about her experiments, her new combinations, and the unexpected results. She would go on for an hour or more, feeling the burden of residual guilt slowly lighten as she spoke. As she always did, though not specifically a part of the ritual, upon leaving she asked simply:

“What were you trying to show me, my dear friend? To this day, death is still the end.”

Upon returning to her house, she once again delves into her studies. She was getting close to a cure, she could feel it. Not just a cure to buy ponies enough time to be taken to a hospital. Not just a tonic to revitalize a worn out equine. Though she could not see it, her goals had warped and twisted over time from a noble ambition to a manic obsession. If she was successful in her new pursuit, Zecora would put an end to illness and suffering forever. She wanted not only to beat the clock. She wanted to beat the Reaper. However, the more she tried, the more impossible it seemed.

Thoroughly infuriated by her utter failure in the most recent test, she goes for a walk in the Everfree to clear her head. Some things never change. She kept running over her experiments in her head, trying to see what she could have done differently, what she hadn’t yet tried, trying to find the mysterious quality that would make her experiment a success. She became aware of an all too familiar silence that broke her train of thought. She had subconsciously walked back to the very place that had changed her life so many moons ago. She realized that she had never explored beyond the gravesite, never continued down the path. Zecora suddenly felt compelled to continue down the path, to go where she had never gone. Perhaps she would find the answers she sought.

A short distance down the trail, she came across a dry streambed in a clearing, and saw that it seemed to come from the mysterious mountains she had glimpsed so long ago. A chill swept through her, a feeling that she had not felt since that fateful day when it seemed all the warmth she possessed had left her for good. Heedless, she headed towards the mountains. As she crested a slight rise at the foot of the mountains, the valley came into view in its entirety. The valley was nearly as devoid of plant life compared to the surrounding area, save for a few exceptionally strange plants that populated the area. The valley itself was very steeply sided, forming nearly vertical walls on three sides. The only side which seemed to be remotely traversable was the one from which the streambed spawned. The bottom of the valley sloped towards a massive sinkhole at the center, the rim of which boasted a higher concentration of plant life than was present anywhere within an hours’ trot. It appeared that a large cave had broken the surface many years ago, forming a pit which was simply huge.

Though wanting desperately to explore this new region, Zecora did not have any gear with which to navigate the steep trail down. Reluctantly, she turned back to head for home. As she walked away, a sudden gust of wind swayed her, nearly toppling her from her hooves. Moments later, the gust moaned through the valley. The moan was not unlike that of a pony, though very much drawn out and seemingly possessed of a soulless hunger.

More than anything else, this last thought spooked Zecora, though for the life of her she could not figure out why. She decided that knowing why it spooked her was less important than getting far away from this place by nightfall, so without a second thought on the subject she picked up a quick trot and headed for home. As she was cantering home, she couldn’t help but smile as she thought of her experiments.