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Son of Chaos Chapter 1: Auguries -Not edited yet-Twenty years had passed since Equestria’s foundation. In those years, cities started to grow and the population had undertaken a relatively prosperous life; at least better than what they had experienced in their previously nameless home. Pegasi were in charge of the weather, earth ponies cultivated food for everyone who required it, and unicorns had been assigned the most important commitment; the rise and descent of the Sun and the Moon, which sustained the life on the complete planet. Thus, when the time to decide who would govern their land with both care and rigor, the three races representatives reunited, still deeply attached by the bounds which had been born in that cave the unforgettable day in which harmony among the pony kind was brought back to life. After a serene deliberation, the following conclusions were reached. The domain over the land would be executed by the unicorns, with the then Queen Platinum on head. The defense of the kingdom would be assigned to the fi
Son of Chaos Chapter 5: A monster, am I?
Draco continued to watch the scene unfolding before him- with those two angelical mares in his domain. Little Luna was splashing and laughing as, coincidentally, he had done countless times before. Celestia, on the other hand, simply sat and observed her sister.
“Come on, the water´s great! You have to try it!” Luna said, laughing.
“I´ve already told you that if we´re wet when we return home, they’ll realize where we´ve been. And we´ll be in big trouble,” Celestia replied. “I don´t want to be blamed.”
Luna submerged her head in the lake and proceeded to spit the water into the air, imitating a fountain. She then repeated the action, this time spitting toward her sister in a playful manner. Celestia jumped back to avoid Luna’s line of fire and shot her an annoyed glance. Luna answered her gaze with an innocent smile.
“You´re too serious, sister. Why don´t you try to have some fun? At th
Poetic PsychosisIn thirty seconds, the next shell would fall. Every night was the same, but every night Lorenzo experienced it as if it were the first time. His throat felt swollen; breathing was hard. He glanced around at the others; young men like him who had been shipped out in the name of honour and freedom. There was no honour in this, no freedom. Only death behind your eyelids, and a fear so gutting, that it carved out your innards and left you a hollow husk. Lorenzo tried to breathe, tried to assure himself that he was still whole, still made of flesh. They had lied when they told him he was ready.
Matteo ran towards him, arms out, rifle swinging uselessly at his side. He shouted for him to run, but Lorenzo remained motionless, unable to move as his friend’s warning was lost in the constant blare of gunfire. None of them were ready.
“The cycle is repeating. It is not safe.” The voice was soft and weak, yet it carried over the gunfire and battle cries without impediment.
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