//------------------------------// // Six // Story: The Moon Also Rises // by Nicroburst //------------------------------// I don’t even understand what I’m supposed to do. The prophecies say I will know when the time comes, but that is small comfort. At least I now know I have not been misled. I can . . . feel something, in the mountains. It pulses in my mind, as much a beacon as a warm campfire on a winter’s night. Six LUNA'S EYES FLICKERED OPEN, registering nothing. Blackness spread all around her, a vast expanse of nothing. She hadn’t expected anything different, exactly. Her Dream had shown her a scene from the past, a scene almost physically painful for Luna. She’d replayed that moment countless times upon her return to Equestria, exploring every inch of her failure until she knew it better than she knew herself. Dreams were prophetic. Was she destined to repeat the past, then? Had she no choice but to return to the Nightmare? The mind has no control over its dreams, scenes from its subconscious playing out regardless of their impact. Did she have as little control over her fate? She had been drawn, curiosity and hope driving her, into his web like a moth to flame. Well, her curiosity had been sated. The Wastes had convinced her; even trapped here, his presence left them a desolate, barren land. Whatever civilisation had fallen before him, so long ago would not see their sacrifice be in vain. All that remained was to escape, to return to Equestria, her duties and her sister, to ask for forgiveness; for her doubt and her haste. She needed to do it without hatred, without jealousy or anguish. This prison would not break her. Luna resumed walking forward. There was nowhere else to go. Focusing on the light from her horn, she began to project, casting her mind out, seeking a flaw in the prison. Every spell had a knot, the source and the keystone of the weave. If she found the knot, she could unravel the spell. Through her mind’s eye, the blackness took on another meaning. All around her swirled a storm of magic, a veritable torrent of power writhing in a mad dance. At first Luna thought she could discern some pattern, order amidst the storm, but every time she caught something, a repeated movement or mirrored symbol, it changed, diverting the flow elsewhere. It was Chaos incarnate, a spell transcending Nature. “Thou cannot hope to escape,” he said, words echoing across Luna’s mind. “Thy place is here, for now.” “Fiend! We shalt escape thee, and when we do, thou shalt tremble before the might of the moon!” Luna said, spitting words into the blackness. “Thou wouldst best me? How, when thou doth not even know thyself.” “You are truly lost.”-the Drac's words, from an age ago. No. She had not lost her way, not this time. She’d learned better, learned not to isolate herself, not to covet power and cultivate fear. She’d gotten past her jealousy, made peace with the quiet of the night. A ripple on Equestria’s surface, and a powerful current underneath, hidden from view. “I know my strengths and my flaws, the twists of my mind and the inner workings of my heart. I earnt that knowledge, by my failures and triumphs, across time immemorial.” “Thou are ruled by thy failure. Thou art defined by it.” His words struck at Luna like a hammer. Was this shadow destined to follow her the rest of her days? Luna had tried so hard to move on, to forget about it, to lessen it to a bad dream in the night. But she hadn’t, couldn’t just continue as if it hadn’t happened. She’d struggled with the guilt, spent time debating her folly, and learnt. She truly believed that, that the experience could make her, in the end, a better princess, a better leader; a better pony. Did that define her? Was the Nightmare’s shadow marked so indelibly on her life that even now, he saw its influence on her? A corruptive touch, devastating not directly, as it had been before, but through fear. She didn’t trust herself anymore, not as she had. What good was a guide that feared its own light? That hesitated to step down the path it knew right? Knew, or thought right. No, she couldn’t trust herself. She’d proven that, all those years ago. Given power, given strength, she selfishly abused it. She forgot her purpose. “Yes, I suppose I am,” Luna said. He had timed his appearance well, just as the fresh anger of her entrapment had finally cooled to a sullen despair. There was potential, there, for escape. Anger would burn her out, without pause for consequence or repercussion. But she wouldn’t take that power again. She’d Dreamt, and she’d Seen; concessions to need that life had forced from her. But they had been spurred by fear and hope, in balance. There had been no disruption, no danger. To burn anger, to feel the rush of molten metal through her veins and the exhilarating thrill of destruction; that would end her. Maybe not now, but years ahead, when finally she could no longer resist its siren call, she would fall to the darkness once more. “You fear yourself, Luna of the Moon. You fear your light.” Luna returned to her body, shaking her head to shake off the dizzying after effects of her altered vision. He was right, of course. Ultimately, the thing she feared the most was herself. Her potential for evil, her Nightmare . . . Fear of falling to that trap had informed every action, every decision she’d taken upon her return to Equestria. It had stopped her from reclaiming her place as a ruler, as Celestia’s sister. Her light had once shone across Equestria, as surely as the sun’s morning rise, a dawn of blazing glory. But where Celestia had taught, Luna had observed, carefully watching over her subjects. Instead of becoming an exemplar, a shining pillar, she had become a leader, shrouded in shadows, those same shadows that had betrayed her; blinded her to her folly. What became of that now? She had become a recluse, the past years disappearing with scant appearances and brief visits from a trusted few. Luna did not fear the public’s eye, nor shy from her duties. But too scared to take back the responsibilities, to tread that path again, what was left for her? She was no leader, not now. She had forsaken that path when she spurned her sister’s grace, ignored the pleas of those she’d sworn to serve. What, then, was she, in this new Equestria? Where was her place? Was it simply to serve as a warning; a symbol of failure for all those contemplating the darkness? “No,” Luna said. “No, I do not fear my light. I fear my shadow, lengthening in the dusk. I fear the twilight of my years, the waning of my influence and waxing of my impotence. I fear your touch, and what havoc you would wreak across me and mine. That fear drives me, and it shall see to your end!” Her words rang hollow in the darkness, echoing around her, out into the black nothingness. Though she listened patiently, there was no reply. *** “Tell me, Trixie, do you share emotions with them?” Twilight asked, pulling her mind away from Trixie’s. It was difficult to hear, close to her, over the noise Brash and Cumulus were making. “You can tell them to stop, by the way.” “They can hear you, Twilight,” Trixie said, “and no, we don’t share emotions.” “Right,” Twilight said. “But they can hear your thoughts?” “Yes, though they don’t always comment. It isn’t a two-way link.” “Okay. That rules out the Spiritual nexus as the focus of your connection. It requires equality, or one mind would simply come to dominate the others. Personality, history, everything would bleed over, through the link.” “Then what is the connection? Your paper . . .” “I’ve already told you that paper was rubbish. I wrote that . . . before.” “But what was wrong with it? I mean, I couldn’t stop any glaring errors,” Trixie insisted. “Trust me. You’ve no experience with the subject. The relationship between the soul and the mind is incredibly complex. Magic doesn’t even come close to explaining it. More like the other way around, actually.” “You mean we . . . what, source magic from the interplay between logic and emotion?” “No, not really,” Twilight said, shaking her head. “But if you can understand it that way, it will suffice.” “I think I’m qualified for the full explanation,” Trixie said, stiffening. “Trust me, Trixie, you’re not,” Twilight said, giving her an apologetic smile. “But the point is, I think that the connection between you all, the link that drew their minds to yours as they died, is founded on emotion.” “How is that even possible?” Trixie asked. Nothing Twilight said was even remotely close to what she’d been taught about magic. Unicorns drew power from themselves, channelled it through the horn through a spell matrix to achieve some effect. What Twilight was saying didn’t even try to take into account the body’s natural channels of power, nor the mind’s leylines. To focus a spell elsewhere would be quite impossible, beyond the reach of even the princess. Slippage would kill the pony, if nothing else. “I can’t explain that, Trixie,” Twilight said. “But it does mean that I can do something about this.” “That easily, huh?” Trixie said. “No, with extreme difficulty, and over a large period of time.” Twilight beckoned Trixie closer, reached her hooves towards her head. Trixie obliged, allowing Twilight clasp her, and reach into her mind. Like this. Can you hear me? Twilight called. Yes. The response came, three voices chorusing together. Do you see me? No. Ah. Here it is, Twilight muttered. Trixie couldn’t feel anything, just a slight pressure on the sides of her head as Twilight clamped her between her hooves. Looking at Twilight, eyes closed, head bent in concentration . . . wait . . . was that a tear track, faintly marked against her fur? Then Trixie felt something change, something fundamental, that pushed it from her mind. “There,” Twilight said, pulling away from Trixie. She took several deep breaths, recovering before sitting back up in her chair. “Feel different?” Twilight asked. Trixie nodded mutely. Ever since the incident, she’d had company, voices in her head. Silence had lost its meaning, each moment invariably filled with chatter. What else were they to do, locked away in her mind? But now Trixie could hear nothing, punctuated only by her own thoughts. Tentatively, she called out. Brash? Cumulus? You guys still with me? There was no response. Trixie fixed her gaze on Twilight. “What did you do,” she said in a low voice, tensing. “I blocked the channels between you. They’re still there, you just can’t hear them, or feel them in any way,” Twilight said. “Undo it. Now,” Trixie said, holding her gaze on Twilight. “Uh . . . okay, sorry,” Twilight said. “Come here.” Twilight lit her horn, leaning forward again, this time simply pressing a hoof into Trixie’s forehead. Then, there they were, like an explosion of colour behind her eyes. Trixie sighed, relaxing into her chair. She’d forgotten what it was like, to be alone in your mind. She took a deep breath. “Thank you, Twilight,” Trixie said. “I just . . . I don’t want them gone.” Twilight cocked her head to the side. “I thought that was the whole point.” “No,” Trixie said, struggling to find the right words. “I guess I want—we want—to understand. But to remove them? Twilight, they’re all I have left of my friends. I can’t just let them die.” “So, what? You want to move them to new bodies?” “Yes. No. I don’t know,” Trixie said, glancing down at her hooves, crossed helplessly in her lap. “Why did this happen to me? They should be dead, instead they’re living in my head. What does that mean?” “It means you cared for them, deeply. It means you’re a very special pony, and that they were lucky to have known you.” “Look, can we set this aside. I don’t want to talk about it right now,” Trixie said. “Sure,” Twilight said. “What did you want to talk about?” “I don’t know,” Trixie said, casting about for some topic of conversation, still shaken from the experience. “Do you happen to know anything about the Crystal Heart?” Trixie! Twilight arched an eyebrow. “The Archives?” she asked. “Yeah, I noticed it while I was searching for, well, you know,” Trixie said. “But I couldn’t find anything recent. Like somepony had cut out any references to it.” “I don’t know about that. But the Heart isn’t classified, exactly,” Twilight said, frowning. “We just don’t speak about it much.” “Safety through obscurity,” Trixie said. “Sort of, though there’s no danger. Anypony who wanted to control it would need to have control over the Crystal ponies. Nopony has been able to do anything substantial with it since King Sombra.” “King Sombra?” Trixie asked. “He was an evil unicorn, from way back. He was corrupted by black magic—like you were by the Alicorn amulet—and took over the Crystal Empire through the Heart.” “And when it appeared in the north . . .” “Yeah. We were sent up there to stop him.” “That was you?” “Well, me and my friends, and my brother, Shining Armour and his wife, Cadence—Princess Mi Amore Cadenza.” “Princess Cadence? Isn’t she still up there?” “Yes, with my brother. They’re sort of running things in the Crystal Empire at the moment. When we took down King Sombra, we left them without a leader, or governing body. Luna was setting that up, but even before she vanished, Cadence was taking more and more of the responsibility.” Shining Armour, he was Captain of the Royal Guard during the changeling invasion, remember? And suddenly, she did remember. Trixie had been on the Pie rock farm at the time, but Brash had been in Canterlot, attending the wedding with the rest of the city. He had passed the memory to Trixie, and in it, she saw the Captain and the Princess, faces to put to the names Twilight had given her. “Anyway, Cadence acts in a similar manner to Celestia, while my brother guards the Court—although he’s on vacation for a few days at the moment, in Canterlot.” Trixie raised an eyebrow. “And you’re here, in Ponyville? Wouldn’t you rather be spending time with him?” “I am,” Twilight said. “I only came down this morning, to speak to Rarity; I’m going back up just as soon as we finish here.” “Hold on, I was on the morning train, and you weren’t. How’d you get down?” “Teleported,” Twilight said, shrugging with an air of nonchalance, though Trixie caught the edges of a grin, tugging at Twilight’s mouth. “I know, I know, impossible, right? Well, that’s what it takes to become an Arch-Magus, Trixie. The impossible.” Maybe she could beat us, Cumulus mused. Maybe!? Without breaking a sweat! Trixie exclaimed. Do you have any idea how much power that would take? “Trixie?” Twilight asked, reaching out to touch her on the shoulder. “Are you alright?” “What?” “You spaced out on me for a second there,” Twilight said. “You can’t seriously expect me to believe you teleported here from Canterlot,” Trixie said, shaking her head. “There’s no way.” Twilight stood up, moving over to the door. “Follow me,” Twilight said, glancing over her shoulder. Trixie rose, trailing after Twilight down the hallway. She stopped to peer into the room on the left, where Rarity had gone. Twilight had said . . . looking for Luna. The white unicorn was lying in a bath, submerged to the neck, her fore-hooves draped over the side. Her head was back, horn alight and eyes closed. Her chest rose and fell evenly, as if in a deep sleep. Trixie watched, noting the movement under her eyelids, and her lips, mouthing words. She was surrounded by equipment, monitoring heart-rate, and brain activity. Trixie made to step into the room, fascinated, but was stopped by Twilight, calling from down the hallway. “Come, Trixie, leave her to her work.” Turning, she walked after Twilight, but not without a backwards glance. What in Equestria was going on in that room, and how did it relate to Luna? They entered another room, this one completely empty, with not even a painting on the wall, or carpet over the floor. Trixie stepped forward, jarring her foreleg as she fell into the centre of the room. For some reason, the floor was lower here, a spherical section cut downwards. She’d missed the slight step. “What was that, back there?” she asked Twilight, ignoring her fall. “Don’t concern yourself with that,” Twilight said, her tone hard. “We leave Rarity alone while she’s here, unless something goes wrong. That’s what the equipment is for. Understood?” Trixie didn’t like it, but she sensed this was not something to press. “Understood, Twilight,” she said, earning a smile. “Very well. Now, to Canterlot,” Twilight said, as if it was as easy, as simple, as that. She lit her horn, lowered her head and sent a wave of magic coruscating outward over herself and Trixie. The light outside the windows flashed once. Then buildings appeared, around the room. “Well,” Twilight said, dropping the bubble of magic. “Here we are, Canterlot.” “Oh, Celestia,” Trixie whispered, overcome. She trotted to the front door—the building layout was the same—and opened it, jaw falling. It was Canterlot, no doubt about it, she could see the castle, in the distance. Closing the door, she turned to the room on the left, seeing the same bath, the same equipment, but no pony. “How did you do that?” she said, marching up to Twilight. “The amount of energy that would have taken would kill a pony!" “Told you,” Twilight said. “Arch-Magus.” “And I’d bought a return trip, too,” Trixie said, crossing her forelegs. “Wasn’t cheap, either.” “Oh, poor soul, wasted some of the money she stole,” Twilight replied, sighing. “Listen, Trixie . . . I feel bad about how I’ve treated you in the past, and I want to help you. But I can’t condone theft. I expect you to pay that store back, at some point.” “Okay,” Trixie nodded, her mouth turning to ash. “You need to cut loose from this accomplice of yours. He will be caught, Trixie. Don’t go down with him.” “Anything else?” “I’m taking a chance with you, Trixie. Please understand that.” And she did. Twilight didn’t need to befriend Trixie, didn’t have to help her, and by doing so, she was putting herself at risk. But that knowledge did nothing to fill the sudden void in her chest, stop the trembling of her legs. She shouldn’t have trusted Twilight after all, she was just the same. She understood, but at the same time, she didn’t. Twilight closed the door, bidding Trixie farewell. Turning, Trixie made for the hideout. She had found her link to the Crystal Heart, and he was right here in Canterlot. *** Rarity lay back in her bath. Even though it was in Twilight’s home, her offices, and surrounded by her equipment, she thought of it as her bath. Everypony did. It wasn’t needed for Sight, no more than any of the machinery. But there was little as relaxing to Rarity as a long, warm soak. She absently reached out, uncapping one of the bottles lining the tub, an aromatic soap, and squirting it into the water. Soon, the room began to fill with the scent of lilacs. She’d already spent half an hour in here today, but thankfully the machinery kept the water warm. That wasn’t all it did, of course, also keeping tabs on Rarity’s health. Sight required a deep trance, and while the bath was helpful in getting her there, it could prove deadly should she slip under the water during a session. Soon, she was drifting, lulled towards sleep. Here was the crucial step. Just before she lost consciousness, right on the edge, she brought forward thoughts of Luna’s disappearance, of Trixie’s appearance and what could it mean, of Spike’s growing wildness and his lessons with the strange creature in the forest. She thought of letting Twilight down, being unable to summon the magic. Fear sent her forward, pushing through time to observe what she willed. Her awareness grew, expanding rapidly. She mustn’t allow it to grow too large, or she could lose herself to the world, mind broken under the vastness of life. Equestria spread beneath her, a giant expanse of land mostly shrouded in mist. It was always like this. Sight allowed Rarity to observe over great distances, and even through time, but only ponies she knew, ponies she had interacted with, even only briefly, stood out amidst the shroud. Ponyville was easy to find, a beacon of light and colour, and Canterlot, nearby, held nearly as much light. But that wasn’t where she wanted to be. Quickly, she brought her focus down to the southern border. She watched again as Luna, a speck amidst a sea of nothing, stepped across, causing Rarity to lose her trail. She could not see across, couldn’t penetrate the border, though she did not know why. She waited there, watching, awareness hovering over the entire border as the years flickered by. No spark of light flew across her vision. There was no change in the swirling mists, no sign. Eventually, Rarity turned away. Instead, she focused on Canterlot. She had found Trixie just as she was arriving here, in time to wake herself and inform Twilight. To find her accomplice, all she had to do was follow Trixie backwards, into the past. Twilight had mentioned a jewellery store. She would find him there. Trixie herself was outlined clearly, her colours bright in Rarity’s mind, Luna’s had been. Her accomplice, though, was a dark shape, obscured to her vision by the haze of uncertainty. She would not be able to See him at all, save for Trixie’s presence. They left the store via a large hole blown in the wall, Rarity following them back to a burned-out basement. She watched them speak heatedly, the dark shape gesturing vaguely, and split the money, but when Trixie left, she dove into the past, tracing back Trixie’s life to their meeting. *** “I am called Trixie. Who are you?” the azure mare asked, carefully maintaining the magical wall holding the police back. The stallion before her gave an unnerving smile, curling his upper lip over his teeth and lowering his head slightly. He looked her straight in the eyes, standing unnaturally still as he uttered, “I am the wind and the water, the breath of air through your mane in the morning, the kiss of dusk on your neck at night. I am your every dream and desire, and I am your hatred and loathing.” Oh, for Celestia’s sake . . . Trixie snorted, putting his melodrama out of mind. While such showmanship might have intimidated a foal, barely out of school, it had little effect on the worldly mare. A performer herself, she recognised the tricks of the trade: a lowered head to cast the alley’s shadows over his face, exposing the teeth to catch the radiance from her horn, eyes tilted upwards to reflect her image. “Very well, and what shall I call you?” Trixie retorted. “Boundless,” he offered, dropping the act. He cut a surprisingly boyish figure, now that she could see him properly. Green eyes, brown coat, he couldn’t have been older than twelve; just around the time most ponies began to mature, to seek independence. Young, but perhaps not that surprising, to be in trouble with the police, and a complete mess—dishevelled, fur and mane ruffled and stinking. Tired, and likely hungry. Thrown out on his ear after one too many fights? It never would have happened, even here in Manehattan. No, I’d say he’s used to running around by himself—probably stays at an orphanage. No family would let him get like this. Still, it wasn’t her problem. Turning away, she began to leave, hooves ringing out against the cobblestone ground. Boundless bounded after her, matching pace as she turned a corner, leaving the police behind. There would be a reckoning for this, she assumed. Her cutie mark was fairly well-known around here, after all. “Say, Boundless. You’re, what, twelve?” she asked, glancing back at his flank. As she’d glimpsed before, it was blank. “I suppose,” he responded, not offering anything else. “That’s a little old to be without a cutie mark. Don’t you have any idea what your special talent is?” “Mmm,” came the absent reply. Boundless was gazing intently at the ground, kicking at the odd loose pebble as they walked. Don’t bother. He’s been by himself for a long time, I’d say. Trixie sighed. She had no reason to lend this foal her aid. She needed to be out, looking for someplace to stay before she was forced to spend a night in the gutter. She absolutely hated what that did to her mane. Yeah, leaves it kinda like that green mess of garbage you so like to pull out at shows. Where’d you model that from, again? Boundless stopped, causing Trixie to halt as well. Looking away, she cleared her throat. “Well, it was pleasant meeting you . . .” she began. “Listen, Trixie,” he cut in, “I’m planning a few errands tomorrow, but if you’re still in Manehattan the day after, come see me at the old observatory. I’ve a feeling you’d be both interested and useful in what I’m doing here,” he said quickly, not quite trusting himself enough to meet her wide-eyed gaze. Trixie grabbed him in her magic before he could leave, reaching out and wrapping an azure glow around his torso and legs. Walking up to him, she glared at him, pinning him under her gaze. “Now, listen here. I don’t know what you think you know about me, but I’m not interested in anything of that nature.” Boundless chuckled, shaking his head. “No, no, nothing like that. I was actually thinking of some armed robbery. But Trixie, if you do decide to come,” he said, stretching his limbs slowly through the azure haze, “don’t try to restrain me.” The bubble burst, Trixie’s magic releasing and dropping Boundless to the ground. “It doesn’t work.” Wow. Trotting out to the main street, he threw a glance and a smile at her over his shoulder before disappearing into the steady stream of traffic; ponies and carts heading every which way. The day after tomorrow. Well, she didn’t really have anything better to do. Manehattan was already turning into a complete waste of time. The money she’d saved from the last few shows was running dry, and the public libraries once again proved to have nothing relevant at all. She needed to get into the private collections. Surely there would be something there, mixed in with the antiquities and relics, a real treasure. An old text of Starswirl’s, maybe, or even his pupil, Clover, something blasphemous enough to be consigned to obscurity, might have information about her condition, about the voices in her head. We’re as real as you are. Access to those collections required both influence and money, though Trixie had neither. Her shows, while a reliable source of money, didn’t attract the sorts of crowds she needed to build a reputation, and travelling Equestria was expensive. Losing her cart, all those years ago . . . It had been, and still was, a considerable blow. Without it, she’d been forced to spend money on accommodation, drawing further from her meagre savings. As it was, she could choose between a wet, cold night, and an empty stomach. There wasn’t any grass to graze from in Manehattan anymore. But Boundless . . . the colt had promised something, and Trixie didn’t think him the type to make offers lightly. She had something he needed desperately. She could exploit that, even if only for food and shelter. It was a comforting thought. For once, she had something to look forward to, some small hope for the future. Exciting! -If he doesn’t backstab you first. Yet she wasn’t defenceless either. She had her magic, her knowledge and years of experience dealing with the shadier side of life. She’d only met one unicorn with enough raw power to overcome her, and that had been before the accident. She was sure she could best even Twilight Sparkle now. Could it be? The return of the Great and Powerful Trixie? Trixie gave a soft laugh. That tired, old persona, a remnant from her days before, had been long gone from her life. Ironic, that the event that made it true also took her belief in it. She had found it difficult to refer to herself in the third person with two additional personalities residing in her head. First things first. A place to stay, work of some kind, and perhaps she could talk her way into some libraries. Appearance counted for a great deal, and she was a master of illusion. After all, it was her special talent. Trixie summoned her magic, creating a blue hat, and a cape adorned with stars. Settling it over her back, she trotted out after Boundless, joining and blending into the crowd, mask intact. *** Rarity woke with a start, a purple hoof on her shoulder. Looking up, she saw Twilight leaning over her, a concerned look on her face. “You startled me, dear,” Rarity admonished. “That’s no way to wake somepony, you know.” “Sorry,” Twilight said with a grin. “Find anything?” Rarity did not move to step out of the tub, instead lying back in the still-steaming water. Twilight wrinkled her nose. The scent of lilacs had long since gone, leaving the room smelling only of wet fur. Rarity closed her eyes, and moved her limbs into the tub, visibly releasing tension. “Nothing about Luna,” Rarity began, confirming what both had expected. “About her accomplice, though . . . I think I did.” “Yes?” “Well, his name is Boundless,” Rarity said, grimacing. “He’s young—about sixteen years old, I should think.” Twilight nodded. Rarity opened her eyes, turning her head to look at Twilight. “And he can negate a telekinetic hold,” Rarity said, quickly relating the event to Twilight. “I’ve no idea how, that’s your department, dear. If you’ll excuse me . . .?” “Didn’t you have work to do?” “Later, dear, later.” Closing her eyes, Rarity drifted off as Twilight quietly turned away, leaving the room.