THE DESERT WIND HOWLED A MOURNFUL SONG ACROSS THE CRACKED EARTH, WHIPPING SAND AGAINST RADEAD’S WEATHERED METAL.  HE SAT HUNCHED, THE REMNANTS OF HIS ONCE-PROUD MANE MATTED WITH DUST AND GRIME, HIS MISSING FOREARMS REPLACED BY CRUDE, MAKESHIFT PROSTHETICS FASHIONED FROM SCAVENGED METAL AND ARMATURE.  THE SETTING SUN CAST LONG, SKELETAL SHADOWS, EMPHASIZING THE EMPTINESS OF THE LANDSCAPE AND THE HOLLOWNESS IN HIS HEART.

RADEAD, ONCE A FORMIDABLE BIONICLE PONY, A LEGEND WHISPERED IN HUSHED TONES AMONGST THE DESERT TRIBES, WAS NOW A BROKEN HUSK. HIS AMBITION, ONCE AS BOUNDLESS AS THE DESERT ITSELF, HAD LED HIM TO A BAR BRAWL, A FOOLISH THEFT, AND THE BRUTAL LOSS OF HIS ARMS.  HE’D BEEN A MASTER THIEF, HIS CUNNING AND AGILITY UNMATCHED, BUT A SINGLE MOMENT OF RECKLESS PRIDE HAD SHATTERED HIS LIFE.

HE REMEMBERED THE NIGHT VIVIDLY. THE CLINKING OF MUGS, THE RAUCOUS LAUGHTER, THE GLINT OF STOLEN WINE BOTTLE IN HIS HOOVES.  THE BARKEEP, A HULKING EARTH PONY WITH A SCAR ON FACE, HAD CAUGHT HIM RED-HANDED.  THE ENSUING FIGHT HAD BEEN SWIFT AND BRUTAL, ENDING WITH RADEAD’S ARMS SEVERED, LEAVING HIM BLEEDING IN THE DUST.

CRAWLING BACK TO HIS MEAGER DWELLING, A CRUMBLING RUIN HALF-BURIED IN THE SAND, HE FOUND BLACKNERA, HIS YOUNGER CREATION, A PONY OF IMMENSE POTENTIAL, YET STILL UNTESTED.  BLACKNERA, WITH HIS SLEEK BLACK COAT AND FIERY RED AND BLACK STRIPED MANE, LOOKED AT HIM WITH A MIXTURE OF FEAR AND RESENTMENT.

"THEY TOOK MY ARMS, BLACKNERA," RADEAD RASPED, HIS VOICE HOARSE FROM PAIN AND DESPAIR. "THEY TOOK EVERYTHING."

BLACKNERA, USUALLY QUIET AND RESERVED, SURPRISED RADEAD WITH HIS WORDS.  "THEY WILL PAY," HE VOWED, HIS EYES BLAZING WITH AN UNNATURAL INTENSITY. "I WILL MAKE THEM PAY."

RADEAD, WEAK AND BROKEN, SAW IN HIS CREATION'S EYES A BURNING DESIRE FOR VENGEANCE, A THIRST FOR POWER THAT MIRRORED HIS OWN PAST AMBITIONS.  HE SAW THE POTENTIAL FOR SOMETHING FAR GREATER, SOMETHING DARKER.

"BECOME THE STRONGEST," RADEAD WHISPERED, HIS VOICE BARELY AUDIBLE. "AVENGE ME.  BECOME... BLACKNERA, THE TYRANT."

HE POURED HIS KNOWLEDGE, HIS EXPERIENCE, HIS BITTERNESS, INTO BLACKNERA. HE TAUGHT HIM THE BRUTAL ARTS OF SURVIVAL, THE CUNNING STRATEGIES OF WAR, AND THE SEDUCTIVE WHISPERS OF DARK MAGIC.  HE FUELED BLACKNERA'S RAGE, SHAPING IT INTO A WEAPON CAPABLE OF CONQUERING EQUESTRIA.

NOW, YEARS LATER, RADEAD WATCHED THE SUNSET, A SILENT OBSERVER OF HIS CREATION'S BLOODY REIGN. HE’D ACHIEVED HIS REVENGE, BUT AT A TERRIBLE COST.  THE DESERT WIND CARRIED THE ECHOES OF BLACKNERA'S VICTORIES, BUT ALSO THE WHISPERS OF COUNTLESS DEATHS, THE SCREAMS OF THE CONQUERED.

RADEAD FELT NO SATISFACTION.  ONLY A GNAWING EMPTINESS.  HE HAD CREATED A MONSTER, A TYRANT WHO RULED WITH AN IRON HOOF, AND IN DOING SO, HE HAD CONDEMNED HIMSELF TO A LONELY EXISTENCE, A BROKEN ARCHITECT OF HIS CREATION'S DARK EMPIRE.  THE DESERT, ONCE A SYMBOL OF FREEDOM, NOW MIRRORED THE DESOLATE LANDSCAPE OF HIS OWN SOUL. HIS LEGACY WAS NOT ONE OF TRIUMPH, BUT OF PROFOUND, IRREVERSIBLE REGRET. THE WIND CARRIED HIS SILENT LAMENT, A WHISPER LOST IN THE ENDLESS EXPANSE OF SAND AND SHADOW.