Dark. Everything is dark. Why is everything dark? These questions haunted the small town baker. She thinks these thoughts to herself as she pulls yet another sponge cake from the one small area of warmth in the building. Placing the cake on the table, she looks up through the glass window placed in the ceiling. The stars are beautiful, night is beautiful. But, this is too much. It's been nearly four years since she's seen daylight, and things were starting to get intense. The guards wouldn't do anything about the night crawlers, or the raiders whom utilize the night for their own corrupt lusts. She huffs and grabs her frosting from a bin full of decorations for pastries. Putting little flowers on the cake, she silently sobs and sighs to herself. She missed flowers. Flowers. The word itself sounded alien in nature, like they never even existed in the first place. All she see's now is the gloom of the night, looming like an everlasting plague over all of equestria. Decorating cakes we're fun at one point, but now that she's forced to make all these cakes, hollow, flavorless, depressing. Like equestria, in its current state. The small town baker needs more eggs if she's going to make more pastries. She notices, for a moment, that she's not in that bad of a situation, at least, relative to others At least, these are made for eating. There are ponies in the capitol who's sole purpose is to make weapon-pastries. Used to keep the city's in line, she supposes. Nightmare Moon's been a pretty kind ruler, treating them like subjects of her night. But the dark. She breaks down, and puts her hooves in her face. "Sweet Celestia the dark." The baker utters the first words in a couple of days. She puts the pastry on the table on a delivery rack, and heads into the designated bakery supply store. Everything's treated like its part of the royal guard. Militant, utilitarian. She opens the door of her hobble, and steps down the steps and into the street Her hooves feel good on the polished cobble. It's been half a week since she's had to leave the bakery for anything. It's refreshing. Her doldrums are broken for a moment as she see's the beauty of the world around her. Since the nightfall, she's thought a lot more, and spoke a lot less. And sometimes, when she gets out, she breaks out of her state of manic depression, and see's things in a different light. Like, if the sun were still there. She stops in her tracks, and does a three sixty, taking in the area of Ponyville like it was the first time she was here. Everything was dark, yet, the softer shades were comforting. She notices a pony laying in the street, obviously in a stage of grief or doldrums similar to her own state. He's sobbing. But its obvious he hasn't slept in a while, 5 days at least. In equestria, they call these ponies 'trancers'. Ponies who were unable to cope with the hostile takeover of nightmare moon, and so they sort of, broke. Which was sad, there is beauty to be had with sanity. 'Any life is worth living.' the baker thinks to herself. 'but a lot of ponies don't believe that concept.' She truly believes that at heart, but, she can't help but feel gloomy and depressed as she looks at the moon, taking the place of the sun. She forgot why she was outside in the first place. Right, eggs. Two blocks later, she see's the storehouse in the distance. Trotting up the crystal stairs, she opens to the old castle of friendship. There's nobody here, but that is to be expected… She see's her old throne, and trots over to it. Bringing her hoof to her old life, she traces the blue and yellow gems set into the looming throne. She remembers comforting her friends, all the things she's taught and learned. And, as if for a moment, her current situation fades out of existence. She brushes her hair out of her face, and places it behind her ear. … She forgets why she came here again. Right, eggs. She walks over to her old friends throne, and scoops up three dozen eggs and puts them on a cart. She grabs the cart and goes to the fresh egg room. One, two, three. Wing 6, Room 4562 … Uhh. "Eggs. Right." she reminds herself, speaking out loud for the first time in months. She opens the door. She grabs another 60 dozen eggs, and heads to the front door. Bringing the cart down the steps carefully, Which is empty, save for that one trancer. Four blocks later. She's standing once again outside the bakery. There's a notice on the door. Its mandatory to be read. Like she's going to read that. She goes inside and sits on one of the old stools of the bakery where ponies used to have pastries. A little necklace sits on it. Or is it a bracelet? She doesn't know. The darkness has made her memory very, very fuzzy. The little lapses of manic happiness are helpful, but they're preventing the inevitable. Its at times like these that its so easy to just, sleep, forever. But, then again, any life Is worth living, right? A weak smile creeps up on her face as her hair goes a little curly, but then resorts to just deflating to flat again. As is life, she supposes. A thought creeps into her mind. The castle. When she was there. Something… … eh, never mind. She forgot. … She forgets what she's doing. Right, she has to bake. She gets up, and heads to the kitchen for another round of sponge cakes. She goes into the kitchen, and see's that the last round of sponge cakes have been taken by the bat-guard. Two eggs, three cups of flower, four cups of protein, milk, peanut butter. She makes another sponge cake batter, and plops it in the oven. … Eh? Right, baking Two eggs, three cups of flower, four cups of protein, milk, peanut butter. She makes another sponge cake batter, and plops it in the oven. … Eh? Right, baking Two eggs, three cups of flower, four cups of protein, milk, peanut butter. She makes another sponge cake batter, and plops it in the oven. … Eh? Right, baking Two eggs, three cups of flower, four cups of protein, milk, peanut butter. She makes another sponge cake batter, and plops it in the oven. … Eh? This happens over and over again for 18 hours straight, and soon, she has nearly 600 cakes stocked up. They need to be put on the rack now. Its at this point she notices something. One of the cakes is still on the rack, never being taken. She think's its an important one, maybe. It has little white frosted flowers on it, and smells of vanilla. None of these should have vanilla or frosting. Is it a gift from the guard, or moon herself? She studies the cake. It has flowers. She missed flowers. Flowers. The word itself sounded alien in nature, like they never even existed in the first place. She needs flower. She needs to put these cakes on the racks. Then she… Then she needs to get the flower. She stacks the six hundred cakes, as they're ready for delivery to the guard. Now. Uh… She need's flower. Right. She walks out the door, and feels the cold rush of air on her face. It's been the first time in months since she's stepped outside. The feeling of the wind is refreshing on her mane and fur. A weak smile creeps from her face. Any life is worth living. Since the nightfall, she's thought a lot more, and spoke a lot less. And sometimes, when she gets out, she breaks out of her state of manic depression, and see's things in a different light. Like, if the sun were still there. … Right, to the store house. Two blocks later, she sees the storehouse in the distance. Trotting up the crystal stairs, she opens to the old castle of friendship. There's nobody here, but that is to be expected… Breathing in, she smells the dust. This place always smells like dust. Well, it didn't back when twilight lived here. She kept things spotless. Twilight, she was such a good friend. Friend. The baker's hair slowly inflates. It becomes curly, and slowly works its way into a cotton candy shape. She notices the smile on her face. She was here for a reason, right? Yeah, she needs something… "Yeah! Flower, need the good stuff, too." She spoke for the first time in months. She happily bounces around the empty castle. In a moment, she finds herself surrounded by flower. Oh fun! She dives in, and covers herself in white, playing in the stuff. She gets up, and shakes off the flower. The smile on her face is something equestria hasn't seen for years. She finishes her reveling, and gets some flower for the bakery. Trotting down the steps of the castle, she decides to go and see what rarity is up to. She walks a few steps. … Uhh, rarity. Her, uh, her… Rarity. "Where do I know that name?" the baker questions, uttering the first words Ponyville has heard in years, sans the sobbing from the trancers She was always bad with names. Maybe a higher up? She doesn't know, the only higher up she can remember is nightmare moon. Nightmare Moon… Nightmare Moon's been a pretty kind ruler, treating them like subjects of her night. But the dark. She movers her hair out of her face and puts it behind her ear. … What was she doing? Right, the, flower? She needs to do more baking. Four blocks later. She's standing once again outside the bakery. There's a notice on the door. Its mandatory to be read. Like she's going to read that. She goes inside and sits on one of the old stools of the bakery where ponies used to have pastries. A little necklace sits on it. Or is it a bracelet? She doesn't know. The darkness has made her memory very, very fuzzy. She walks into the kitchen and places the flower on the table She needs to- … She needs to make more sponge cakes. Two eggs, three cups of flower, four cups of protein, milk, peanut butter. … 30 hours later, she's must've made a solid 700 sponge cakes. They need to be put on the rack. There's still a cake on the rack. She think's its an important one, maybe. It has little white frosted flowers on it, and smells of vanilla. None of these should have vanilla or frosting. Something clicks in her head. She remembers. Her hair inflates, curly and full. Her eyes light up and shine bright colors, juxtaposing on the dark, gloomy kitchen. She looks around the bakery. She goes to the basement, and flips a switch. When she come's back up the stairs the lights are on, illuminating a dusty, cobweb ridden sugarcube corner. The necklace. She knows what that is. She walks over to the gold necklace with a blue balloon sunk into the middle. One of the elements of harmony. But, how did it get out of the tree of harmony? She remembers. It was a last ditch effort to stop Luna from becoming nightmare moon again. But it just wasn't enough. "not at our old age" she says with a hint of reminiscence, talking for the first time in a week. She puts on the pendant, and walks over to the mirror. she follows the wrinkles on her face, with her aged cataract ridden eyes. It hasn't been 4 years. Its been much, much longer. She, needs to find the other elements. Twilight. No, we can't win without twilight. We couldn't win. We'd never win without magic. She was turned to a statue when the elements backfired. That was a dark day… "heh, literally. Right Twilight?" She turns away from the mirror. She can't continue making cakes for nightmare moon. She can't enable her tyranny. She has to go, go find the other elements of harmony. The baker decides to leave the element on the table, it should be safe there. Can't be caught. She decides, and turns off the lights in sugarcube corner. She taps her way down the steps, and looks left, then looks right, trying to focus on a direction. … Which direction does she go? "Where do I need to go…" … She chooses a direction, and starts running … Uhh. She forgot what she was doing. … Her hooves feel good on the polished cobble. … It's been half a week since she's had to leave the bakery for anything. … It's refreshing. … Her doldrums are broken for a moment as she see's the beauty of the world around her. Since the nightfall, she's thought a lot more, and spoke a lot less. And sometimes, when she gets out, she breaks out of her state of manic depression, and see's things in a different light. Like, if the sun were still there. She stops in her tracks, and does a three sixty, taking in the area of Ponyville like it was the first time she was here. Everything was dark, yet, the softer shades were comforting. She notices a pony laying in the street, obviously in a stage of grief or doldrums similar to her own state. He's sobbing. But its obvious he hasn't slept in a while, 5 days at least. In equestria, they call these ponies 'trancers'. Ponies who were unable to cope with the hostile takeover of nightmare moon, and so they sort of, broke. Which was sad, there is beauty to be had with sanity. 'Any life is worth living.' the baker thinks to herself. 'but a lot of ponies don't believe that concept.' She must've just been taking a break. Four blocks later. She's standing once again outside the bakery. There's a notice on the door. Its mandatory to be read. Like she's going to read that. She goes inside and sits on one of the old stools of the bakery where ponies used to have pastries. A little necklace sits on it. Or is it a bracelet? She doesn't know. The darkness has made her memory very, very fuzzy. FIN