A red sun rose slowly above the distant snow-capped mountains, perching idly on their peaks. The crimson light cast by the day orb spread over the dry, deadened soil that had once supported an abundance of life. It did not, however, change the shade of the once virgin landscape. It was different, changed, tainted, painted scarlet by the blood of those before him, those lost in the last battle. Once green and vibrant, the grass was now stained ruby, the silver rivers running burgundy, the rich soil soaked a scarlet hue, now dulled with time, but forever ruined by the bloodshed.
He moved forward silently, his massive form silhouetted by the rising sun, hooves gracing the ground with care, avoiding the half-decayed carcasses of those he had never known, would never know. His mother had birthed him in the heat of this turmoil, perhaps over there by that lone twisted tree. She had died doing so. Satine, the red diamoned, was never to see the face of her only child, the sole survivor of what was once Distant Promises. His father, Retribution, was never to tell the legend of the struggle, the drive to conquer. He was never to learn of the deep history and meaning of what it was to battle, for here, his father's, his grandfather's, his great grandfather's, hopes and dreams lay before him, broken, open for the taking.
Now standing near the center of the battlefield, the young stallion closed his eyes, visualizing what he had never seen. He knew the facts, but some of it would always remain hazy. There was his father, a mighty black force of untamed power and glory, rearing high above another form, a bay one, Solo. Solo fell, dead at the hooves of Retribution, his followers slaughtered by Satine and Lethal, the other two components of the deadly trio. But it was not over. Something moved in the distance, in the shadows. Thorne. Traitor. Deceiver. He was not alone. His mare, Sadistic Pleasures, accompanied him, thirsting for the title of queen. Thorne conquered, fresh, alive, while his father stumbled, fell, immobilized from the previous battle. Lethal fled, never to return, to the lands of Disfunktional where she reigned beside Biohazard for a time before meeting her doom as well. And Satine, the beauty his father had loved, cherished, the mother he would never know, did the only thing she could. She fled as well, knowing well the worth of what she carried inside of her, the only hope for a lost line.
So here he was, Identity, the sole survivor of what was once a strong heritage, the rightful owner of the barren prairie that was once Distant Promises. And here he was, ready to rebuild what his forefathers had forged.