It was all strange, the light brush of sand against his coat coupled with the heat of the sun beating down on his collapsed form. His charcoal mane fell in front of his eyes as the gentle warm breeze rolled across the dunes of the innermost desert. Using a hoof to brush the loose strands from his vision, the disoriented pony looked out across the scene laid out in front of him.

High above a valley of golden sand laid a small village, the buildings carded out of limestone and held together with dry bits of timber. With his mouth growing dryer by the second, the stallion pulled himself to his shaky hooves and began to slowly make his way towards the settlement.

On the outskirts of the village he gained the attention of a few locals, surprised to see anypony crawl out of the desert in his state. He made no attempt to ask for help, nor was he given it, until one stallion offered for him to lean a wing on him.

He helped the stranger across town to his little home near the edge of town, a rough stone structure with a worn wooden roof, it was obvious that it had weathered many storms. The stallion introduced himself as Mayson, a local stone carver. When he inquired to the strangers name there was a long pause before any answer was given. However in his mind he somehow knew what his name was, though little else.

“My name…  is Azzal Khan…  I think.”

Mayson had raised an eye at this, perplexed at his peculiar name. “And where are you from, Azzal?”

“I’m not sure. All I remember is waking up in the desert with nothing… but I feel strange. Like there’s a million ideas in my brain and a million more things to accomplish, like the bricks of my life have already been presented, it’s left to me to assemble them.”

“I don't think I quite follow you son.”

Azzal snapped out of his little moment, looking the carver dead in the eye. “It's nothing, nothing at all. I guess I’m just a bit tired from, you know, being out in the sun.”

“I guess so.” Mayson wasn't sure what to make of him. Any other pony would have cast him back into the desert to find his own way, and yet here he was still. “I presume you’ll want a bed for the night, don’t want to be caught in a stand storm. There’s a spare bed upstairs where my son used to sleep, it should be all ready for you.”

Azzal gave a silent nod, heading towards the old creaking staircase and ascending towards the upper floor. Strangers usually were trouble in these parts, spies from neighboring villages and bandits, but this one seemed more lost than anything. Mayson pitied him, but for whatever reason this was he couldn't fully understand.

“Oh, by the way,” Azzal appeared from the stairwell with a small grin on his face after a good look at his temporary bed. “thanks.”

“You’re most welcome. Now get yourself cleaned up, we’ll be eating in an hour.”

Five years later...

Dellas let out a groan as he picked himself off the cobblestone ground. His head throbbed with a sharp pain, each pulse ringing loudly in his ears. It was dark, but the subtle hint of torchlight kept whatever spirits he had alive for now. He wasn’t dead after all, how bad could it possibly be?

Then it hit him, the defeat at the hands of the guard. His loyalty had taken its toll during the fight, torn between defending his brothers and sisters or surrender and be rid of Azzal. If there was to be peace then the stallion had to die.

But it was all over now, the war was done. It had been a short one but they all had scars to show for it. What next entered the old general’s mind was the fate of Arin. They were both in this, both had thrown down their arms, and yet she was nowhere to be seen. There were a few other soldiers in the cell with him, but none of them were her. Dellas began to think the worst.

A prisoner of war, he wondered what that would be like. Would they execute them, punish them, send them home with a good kick up the flank? That was more than what they deserved and he knew it. Dellas had fought, he had killed, and he was just as guilty as Azzal.

A one of the guard wandered by his cell, keeping a close eye for any suspicious activity from the prisoners. He grew rather suspicious when he saw Dellas make a move towards him, drawing his sword in case things got out of hoof.

“Back prisoner, there’s no use in trying anything now.”

“What? No, no.”

The guard sheathed his sword. “You best keep it that way.”

“May I ask something of you first?”

The guard wasn't in the mood to discuss with the same villains who killed many of his friends, but he forced himself to stay put despite his internal conflict. “Be quick about it.”

“What exactly is planned for us?”

The guard didn't seem too pleased with the question but answered none the less. “The Princesses have come to the agreement that you and the others who laid down their arms are to be spared and sent back to your homeland. Rather generous if you ask me, considering how many you lot killed.”

Dellas couldn't hold back a small sigh of relief, even under the circumstances. “I know, but we will work to ensure nothing like that ever happens again. We lost our friends too.”

“The last of the prisoners have been escorted bellow the city my sister.” Luna announced her arrival, observing a bandaged and recovering Celestia as she watched the ruined city from her balcony. “You should be in bed ‘Tia, it is not good to strain yourself at this hour.”

“I understand Luna, but I have a duty still. It will be a difficult day when I must part with it.”

Luna bowed her head and gazed at the marble floor below them. “Do you think…  Sparkle is ready? With all that’s happened over the last week alone, do you think she is still capable.”

“Definitely, if anything she has proven more of her worth now than ever before. Remember sister if she had not risked her life to free you and the others from the caves, neither of us would be speaking here tonight. Without Twilight I fear that things could have gone far worse. I know she’s ready.”

“You always have a plan, don’t you? If we were a lesser mare we would think you had planned this all along.”

“Don’t be ridiculous Luna, I am not as devious and you would think me to be.”

“Aside from that, maybe it would be wise for you to hand over the duty of raising and lowering the sun to us for now. You need rest and this is no way to go about it. Twilight will help me with the night sky, she needs the practice after all.”

“That may be wisest, as much as I hate having to admit it, I cannot do everything I could before in my current state. Good night to you sister.”

“And I to you.”

Dear Princess Celestia,

I was planning on resuming my studies as soon as I returned to Ponyville, in hope that things might return to normal. But after everything that’s happened I’m beginning to understand; there’s no going back, no undoing what’s been done. My friends and I are changed ponies, we’ve seen things that no mare should ever see. Maybe I’m just overanalysing things, but I don’t think any of us have really come to terms with what happened.

Fluttershy was rather shy about it at first, not willing to speak about it to anypony aside from Rainbow Dash. We all decided to check up on her just to see if she was okay and we even managed to get her to talk about some of her experiences. She broke down in tears. Dash thought it might be best we left so she could comfort her. I haven’t seen her since yesterday.

Rarity’s been taking it in her stride along with Applejack, I think they’re both too stubborn to admit they had it pretty rough over the past month. Applejack’s stays out late bucking trees till there’s not a leaf hanging and Rarity’s making more dresses than she knows what to do with. I guess we all have our own ways of coping.

Pinkie Pie’s been visiting allot recently. She’s trying to cheer me up and I’m doing my best to play along. She puts me in a better mood, but I still know that she’s going through the same thing I am, she’s just better at hiding it. Spike caught on to our odd behaviour rather quickly, now I can’t get him to stop trying to get me to talk about it. He’s always been there for me, even if I don’t always appreciate it. I’m sure he knows that.

I guess that’s it then. We’re all moving on with our lives, trying to forget what we’ve been through with little success. Before I end this I need to know something, something that’s been plaguing me for a while now. Azzal Khan was created out of my fears, right? He was made by Discord to be the perfect weapon to fight me, to create chaos. He was cunning, ruthless, everything I’m not. Maybe that’s what I’m afraid of, not some names from story books that scared me as a filly, but that I will someday become just like him.

Your faithful student,

Twilight Sparkle