Withered wings carried her over the barren landscape. All below was dust, and all above was dust. Only the occasional ruin of brick or stone broke the unholy symmetry. The sun did not shine on this place. The only sounds were the wind and her own eternal scream. She flew faster. [hr] Great machines rusted and fell under their own weight as she flew over them. The air filled with their shrieks. How impressive they must have been, once, cutting their long trenches into the earth! But no longer. The sky had been choked when she arrived here; she had not done that. Merely added to it. The machine's masters had abandoned this place long ago. She flew faster. [hr] The land below was bright, but hardly cheerful. The patchwork quilt that made up this land unwove itself as she passed over, the thread fraying and decaying. She was glad to give this place to the dust. A lone figure stood below her. Not a pony, no; a serpent, and many other things besides. He did nothing to stop her, merely watched. Soon he, too, joined the rest. She flew faster. [hr] Here, the world burned. A great beast of destruction stood warden over this land. It met her scream with its own fury. But flames turned to ash, and ash into dust. She flew faster. [hr] The sun had not graced this land in a long, long time. In that way, it reminded her of her home. Stone turned to rubble, rubble turned to sand, and somewhere below a goddess withered away in an ill-deserved throne. She flew faster. [hr] Great hives towered like termite mounds over the landscape. Drones buzzed around them, mindless in their tasks. They paid no attention as she passed, their chitin cracking and splintering. Below, far below, the ponies slumbered, their dreams not their own. As one, they sighed with relief, for in her was their salvation. There was no salvation for her. Only the vengeance which propelled her onward. She flew faster. [hr] The battlefields stretched on forever. Armour littered the battlefield, stained and dented, while those still standing fought around them. In the low light of the setting sun, it was hard to tell who fought for who. They continued to fight, even as their flesh rotted and their bones crumbled. She flew faster. [hr] Her wings, sparse things of little more than bone and sinew, ached. She did not know how long she had been flying. She only knew she had found her destination. Here, the sun shone. Here, the skies were blue. Here, the land was verdant. She pitched forwards, her withered wings at last giving out. But it had been enough. She landed on the balcony of the great castle. The crystal that comprised it turned grey and brittle under her hooves. She had never been here, never seen this place before this moment. And yet, she knew exactly where to go. Candles snuffed as she passed them. Tapestries unravled into piles of aged thread. The air itself grew musky and ancient in her wake. Still she marched, even as her legs burned and her lungs, whatever was left of her lungs, begged her to stop. A wooden door stood in her way. She placed her hoof upon it, and it rotted away to nothing. And there she was, standing there over a desk covered edge to edge in scrolls rich with arcane symbols and scrawled writings. Her wide eyes betrayed her fear, even as her coat began to grey. Starlight Glimmer looked upon Starlight Glimmer. And then, at last, they both fell to dust.