//------------------------------// // Eight // Story: The Moon Also Rises // by Nicroburst //------------------------------// I am resting outside. I have arrived; I can feel it burning in my mind. But it is not the right time. How ironic; that for all my worry and haste, pushing myself past reason, I have arrived early. Still, no matter now; I am here, and that is all that matters. Tomorrow, in the morning, I shall look upon what I have travelled so far, given up so much to find. I only pray that, outside this tomb of ice, there is a world left to save. Eight LUNA HAD FELT ANGER BEFORE. In the early days of her return; it had been directed at herself, for her fall and everything she’d done or tried to do. For what she’d felt, the way she’d thought and believed during that time of madness. Half a year later, overcoming that and emerging for Nightmare Night, she’d thought herself recovered. Ready to step back into an active role in the world, ready to face those she’d tried to hurt. When they’d turned away in fear, the product of a miscommunication across a barrier of a thousand years, she’d again felt the hot flame, spurring her to action, to rash decisions and hasty judgements. It had taken Twilight Sparkle to save her from herself. That moment had stuck with Luna. Even after all she’d been through, she hadn’t been prepared, wasn’t ready to face the world. It had been a small fall, but it was a fall nonetheless. Again, anger led her to darkness, again she succumbed to it. She had sworn to purge herself of it, an oath that had meant nothing in the face of fear. She’d been so scared! All those faces, turning away from her, quivering, prostrate in the dirt. They respected her, yes, but it was a respect born of terror, not love. They’d thought her an enemy, and in doing so had made her one. Luna hadn’t moved from her spot in what seemed an Age. She had the clues she needed to escape, she could feel freedom calling to her; the sweet night air, the light of the Moon and the Stars. She’d burnt off the haze over her mind, but while that helped her think, it didn’t tell her anything. Except . . . the wind had stopped. She couldn’t recall when—it had become an ever-present companion, the only sensation past her hooves on the floor in the dark. She’d become so used to it she hadn’t even noticed its sudden absence, wrapped as she was in her thoughts. What did that mean? That she was standing on its source, in the eye of the storm? That something had happened to disturb whatever being controlled it? Luna knew, somehow, that for as long as it had been imprisoned here, that wind had never stopped. Not once lessened in power or purpose. She pushed it out of her mind. While probably significant, it meant nothing to her here, not until she escaped. Luna stretched her fore-hooves out, absently drawing a circle on the floor. She’d been angry, again, and this time, it had freed her, had cleared her mind. She’d needed that, though she’d quickly pushed it away after it served its purpose. Control served her, as emotion never had. She’d suppressed her anger, but that had been a poor form of control. It protected her, but it limited her, denied her emotion. But then, that was the choice she faced. To attempt to control herself, to use emotion without falling to it, or to hide it away, becoming a creature of logic to preserve herself. Luna smiled. That had been the danger she had presented Twilight, in her brief instruction on Coromancy. One must always exercise caution, lest the emotional tides sweep you away. The Drac believed Luna had lost something, was missing some part of herself. This thing that had trapped her shared that belief, and included with it subservience to her Nightmare. Luna had spent so long with that manifestation riding her, so long under it that the thought—the knowledge—of its legacy hanging over her was almost too much to bear. Even in defeat, it haunted her. But she didn't have to run from it. She couldn't bury it away, pretend it had never happened. To do so would deny the changes she’d undergone, open herself up for the same mistake. She wasn't whole unless she was vulnerable. What was the single thing she’d lost, the one difference, separating her from the Luna of over a thousand years ago? Not her anger, or even her jealousy, she had kept those locked away, but with her still. No, but she had cast away their grip over her, shed the Nightmare in a rainbow of power. Perhaps that was what she was missing. The Drac had called himself a friend. If he had sent her after the Nightmare, Luna didn't know what she’d do, on her return. Such a deception . . . Luna closed her eyes, focusing on her breathing. She mustn’t let the anger control her. It ran through her, burnt itself out, and departed an old friend, leaving for the night. She took a deep breath. To harness anger, she had to open herself to it. She had to trust herself, not only with the power it provided, but to not fall under its influence. That was another thing she’d lost over the years in exile, confidence, the courage to simply shrug off the danger and act. She had trusted to wisdom to show her where that was necessary, trusted herself beyond fear of failure. Could she do that here? Perhaps she could break free, given the right power, in the right place. And where better to do that than here, where the wind had finally ceased, the centre of his influence, the eye of his storm. It was a place where he was simultaneously strongest, and most vulnerable, just as she was. And yet it was hard, so hard, to let go of the boundaries she’d placed around herself. Luna had buried those feelings deep, below self-loathing, below regret and grief and duty. They spoke of a time when she had been free, riding the night sky like a goddess. They acknowledged her, not as a goddess, or a ruler, but as a pony, an individual, whose feelings were justified simply by being felt. Luna trembled, ears flat against her skull, face buried in a starlit mane, and curled her tail around her prostrate form, trying to summon from memories of her past the courage to step into the future. *** Trixie followed Boundless without a word all the way back to the safehouse. Cumulus and Brash were silent in her head, either reeling, as she was, from that catastrophic confrontation, or simply giving her the space to recover. She wasn’t sure she appreciated that sentiment. Despite their presence, she felt so alone, so lost. Was it any wonder she didn’t have the courage to turn from the path he laid before her? Boundless turned to her before he entered the house, his manner back to its usual carefree patterns. He beckoned her, and like a lamb she came, standing closer to hear his quiet words. “Find Shining Armour, Trixie,” Boundless said. “You have done well so far, but we must learn what he knows. You say he has only a few days left in Canterlot. That is your deadline. Find him, and get him back here.” Trixie just nodded, turning without a word. She had nothing to say to him, not any more. And yet, as she walked away, the thought of kidnapping a pony jolted her out of her haze. Boundless hadn’t said that, not explicitly, but Trixie understood his meaning. Get Shining Armour, at any cost. If he comes willingly, that’s great. But if not, if you have to force him, then so be it. Trixie had never kidnapped another, never even considered it. It was a lesser evil, as far as she could tell, than the idea of murder Boundless had forced her to confront earlier. She had not been able to bring herself to that, but perhaps she could bend enough for this. She wouldn’t hurt him, not really. Just take him to Boundless, tie him up, and take what she needed from his mind. She had done that, minus the tying up, many times before. Was it really so much worse? No, of course it wasn’t. Satisfied, Trixie increased her pace to a trot. She needed to review what she knew about the target, and there was no place better than at a table with a hot cup of coffee. She’d grown to love the stuff, helping her through endless hours of study—at first learning and perfecting her magic, then her research on Cumulus and Brash. That had evolved into a particular fondness for coffee shops, the little cafes tucked away amidst shopping districts and displayed on street corners. She thought clearest there, comforted by the familiarity of her surroundings. Fortunately, there was just the place a few streets up ahead. Think about what you’re doing, Trixie, Brash said. His voice, though quiet, reverberated in her mind, echoing against itself. You’ve never done something like this. It’s wrong. Is it wrong to protect herself, Brash? Cumulus replied, taking Trixie’s side. We have no choice. There is always a choice, Brash said, his voice echoing, as if it came to her across some great distance. Trixie didn’t bother to respond. It wasn’t long before she arrived; a small place, named the Daily Grind. Taking a seat, Trixie absently placed an order, not really paying attention. Okay, so what do we know? Shining Armour was the Captain of the Royal Guard. He helped to save Canterlot following the Changeling Invasion alongside his wedding to Princess Mi Amore Cadenza. Once the Crystal Empire reappeared, he and his wife became heavily involved in the reintegration process, eventually moving there. He is now employed by the Crystal Court, and is the Captain of the Guard there, both of his wife, the Princess, and the Crystal Heart, though most see his role as ceremonial. He also serves as a member of the nobility. Currently, Shining Armour is staying in Canterlot, presumably in a suite at the castle. He will be leaving, via train, in a few days. His position makes him the best candidate for offering useful information regarding the Heart. I need to know when exactly he’s leaving, Trixie thought, sipping at the cup that had appeared before her. That means I’ll need a contact at the castle. This thought caused her to grimace. It was notoriously difficult to find somepony on the Princess’s staff that was willing to take a bribe. Most would simply report her to the Guard. If he won’t help us voluntarily—which I doubt—I’ll need to incapacitate him. I should find out what spells he knows. Cumulus, you were here for the invasion, right? Trixie asked. Yes, Cumulus said. How did he hold them off? At first, he created a barrier around the entire city. The entire city!? Trixie exclaimed, snuffing some of her coffee. She spluttered as the hot liquid spilled from her muzzle, to be sheepishly wiped up with a napkin. I’m afraid so. He is Twilight’s brother, you know. Older, too. I guess . . . force-fields, then? They’re his specialty. Cumulus confirmed. Great. That’s just great. Trixie said, slumping. It would be extremely difficult to do anything to somepony with that particular set of talents. Surprise, then? she asked. Only way it’ll work, Cumulus agreed. We can’t do it in the castle; there’d be no way to get out, not even with teleportation. Then the best place would be on the train. I imagine Twilight will want to see him off, probably walk with him all the way from the castle. And I’m not going up against her if I can help it. So we’re back to the train. We need to know when it leaves. Cumulus said, echoing Trixie’s earlier thought. Once I know that, I can set up some kind of trap. A sleep spell on his carriage would work; a simple enough illusion. Then it’s in and out. We’d have till the train arrives in the Crystal Empire before they start looking for him. That’ll be almost an entire day—plenty of time. Alright then. Trixie stood, throwing the remainder of her coffee down her throat. It was unlikely she could coax the information she needed out of the palace staff, and she was hesitant to use magic. She didn’t want to draw any attention. She couldn’t talk to Shining Armour directly for the same reason. Perhaps Twilight could tell her—but only indirectly, in passing. For now, though, she could scout out the track, find a good place to stop the train and make a getaway. Trixie tossed a few bits onto the table, and, bringing Cumulus and Brash to mind, lit her horn, disappearing in a flash of azure light. *** Twilight stirred. She’d been hiding upstairs for some time, enough for the light outside to begin to dim. She’d drifted off to sleep—an amateur mistake, as she chided herself. Still, a slight noise had alerted her, the sound of somepony returning home to their nice, secure hideout. Twilight, however, needed to be stealthy, at least until she’d confirmed that it was indeed Boundless who’d awoken her, and not Trixie. Casting a generic sound-muffling spell, she stepped onto the stairs, poking her head out. There was nopony in sight; whoever it was must already be in the basement. She knew she couldn’t get down there without being spotted, as the stairs were completely exposed. Twilight scowled. This was exactly the sort of situation where she’d love to have Rarity’s talent. She could hope that they simply wouldn’t be paying attention, and thus be able to identify them before she gave herself away. Better still, she could go invisible, and take her time. Twilight didn’t like invisibility spells, as a rule, but sometimes there was no avoiding them. Concentrating, she veiled herself in shadow, carefully weaving magic to pass light around her body. Magic, as unicorns understood it, still operated in the physical world, and had to obey the rules of physics. Most spells could be visualised as an adaptation of telekinesis—an extension of power to do work at a distance, or in a way hooves couldn’t. The invisibility field set up, Twilight carefully walked down the stairs, heading straight to the basement entrance. Her ears twitched, picking up the faint sound of rustling paper. She reached out with a hoof, pushing on the door. It swung open silently, her magic blocking out the sound of the hinges. Twilight moved down the stairs. Facing her across the room was a brown unicorn, a stallion, head bent over the table as he sorted through the notes scattered there. Twilight smiled. This must be Boundless, Trixie’s partner in crime, and the only thing holding her to that life. She walked over to the table, circling it to stand behind him. Peering over his shoulder, Twilight quietly observed, watching him read reports, write replies and shuffle the information around on the table, completely unaware of her presence. After some time, it became apparent that she wasn’t going to learn anything knew, so she moved away, hiding in a hallway before dropping her invisibility. It was never wise to let your opponent know the extent of your abilities, after all. Now visible, Twilight dramatically stepped around the corner, into plain sight. At first Boundless didn’t notice her, focused on his work. Twilight waited, patiently. The effect would be worth it. Ah, yes. She dropped the silence spell muffling her movements as well. His ear twitched, catching the faint sound of her breathing, standing out in the near-silent basement, then the corner of his mouth curled slightly as he turned to face Twilight. “So, here you are,” he said. Twilight had expected more of a reaction. Fortunately, though it was slight, Boundless’ nonchalance sent a shiver of shock running through her. Twilight focused on it, held it within her. The world around her grew clearer, more immediate, everything in sharp relief. Each heartbeat was a drum pounding in her chest. She could hear Boundless breathing, and see the tremor in his legs, partly concealed by the table. He was surprised to see her, didn’t know why she was here. He was good at hiding it, certainly, but nopony could hide from senses improved with Shock. The emotion passed, its strength used up, and Twilight felt calm descend, a tranquil peace of disassociation. She fought through that haze, focusing on the present despite her mind’s protests. She’d gotten what she needed from the burst of clarity Shock provided. “Here I am,” Twilight confirmed. The entire process had taken under a second, from feeling and capturing the emotion to burning it off, though she’d be feeling the effects for a little while longer. Boundless studied her carefully, eyes taking in every detail. He was no fool; he could see his charade hadn’t affected her. Dropping the act, he stepped out from behind the table. “You must be Twilight Sparkle,” Boundless said, nodding. “Trixie mentioned you.” “So you do know her,” Twilight said. Boundless didn’t react, but Twilight ploughed forward anyway. She had to keep momentum, had to keep him off-balance. “What are the two of you planning?” “Just me, actually; Trixie is merely helping, in return for certain allowances.” “Such as?” Twilight asked. “Our partnership is convenient for both of us, and none of your business, Sparkle,” Boundless said. “She came to see me, you know. She wants out,” Twilight said, feeling defensive. That was bad, she needed to stay offensive. Unfortunately, she didn’t have a great deal to pin him on. “Yes, I know. She spoke to me about the same thing, actually,” he said, smiling. “We came to an . . . understanding.” “Why does she stay with you?” “Because she chooses to,” Boundless said. Twilight could see the edges of his teeth, lips curling back in a smile. "What are you holding over her?" Twilight demanded. Boundless didn't reply, instead stalking another step forward. "She wouldn't choose this. Not without duress." "And yet, with me she remains." Twilight lit her horn, causing Boundless’ grin to widen. “What are you planning?” she said, pumping more power into her horn. The glow doubled, and then tripled, emitting enough light to blind him. “Come, you’ve been through my notes by now. Must I spell it out?” Boundless asked, holding a hoof in front of his eyes. “I want to hear it,” Twilight insisted. “Fine,” he said, shrugging, as if it didn’t really matter. “I want to know why.” “Yes,” Twilight said, leaning her head forwards. “Why I can see, where others are blind. Why they speak of honour, friendship, and love, and I hear nothing but the echo of silence. Why I find myself alone in this world, and watch the puppets around me take solace in the kinship of their strings. What made me like this, Sparkle? Do you know?” Twilight was at a loss. Unconsciously, her jaw dropped a touch, parting her lips. She trembled, half-reaching forward with her foreleg. She didn't know what she was reaching for. “You shouldn’t let your guard down, Sparkle,” Boundless growled, charging her with his horn alight, his eyes fixed on her. Twilight felt his magic form around her, a bubble designed to imprison. Unfortunately for him, Twilight wasn’t any ordinary unicorn. With her emotions in flux, thrown about by Boundless' rapid shifts in demeanour, Coromancy became dangerous, unpredictable. But she still had magic. She was an Arch-Magus of Equestria, raised to the highest rank of magicians by Celestia herself after years of intensive study and training. She had countless hours of fieldwork to her name, and an absurd list of achievements. What unicorn could hope to match one who’d faced down the alicorn of night at the tender age of sixteen, and emerged victorious? Bursting his bubble with a small surge, Twilight vanished into a cloud of smoke, reappearing instantly as twelve Twilights, spaced evenly around the room. “Stop,” the Twilight’s commanded, voices reverberating through the room. “Stop before I make you.” She hoped that that had been sufficiently impressive. The effort of chaining so many spells together so quickly had left her out of breath, and she’d like a moment to recover. Boundless paused, now in the middle of the room. He spun around, as if trying to decide which of the clones the real Twilight was. Naturally, she’d placed herself between him and the stairs, cutting off his escape. Boundless growled again, deeper this time, with an edge in it. “Do not press me, Sparkle. I will tear you to pieces,” he said. Twilight laughed, her clones copying every movement. Their amusement echoed through the room, causing Boundless’ cheeks to heat. From where she stood, looking at his flank, his threats seemed the empty posturing of a child, out of his depth. Twilight took the opportunity to check his cutie mark. Just as Rarity said, there was nothing there. But to be a blank-flank at this age was unheard of. “Tell me a story,” Twilight said, all twelve sets of lips moving in unison as her voice reverberated around the room, making it impossible to locate where it had come from. “Tell me about the time you got your cutie mark.” Boundless gritted his teeth. “I can’t. I don’t remember! I was just a foal, less than a day old for Celestia’s sake!” Less than a day old! That’s . . . that’s got to be impossible. No way, he would have barely been conscious. “Cutie Marks appear when one realises their special talent. How could a foal that young be aware of something so profound?” “I don’t know!” Boundless was visibly agitated, eyes rolling around the Twilights. “What is your special talent?” Twilight took a step forward, closing the circle around Boundless. This time, he grinned. “Transcendence,” he said, finally settling on a direction. He charged the circle, heading for the stairs. Fortunately, that was precisely where Twilight had positioned herself, in order to cut off his escape. She dropped the illusions; they’d served their purpose, and seized hold of Boundless, trapping him in her telekinesis. Last thing before I go, then. Let’s see this talent of yours. Rarity had described Boundless breaking free of Trixie’s hold from the scene she’d Sighted. His horn hadn’t been the only thing to glow then, and although the details were, again, obscured by Twilight’s magical field, she could just detect a shimmer in his eyes. She would never have noticed had she not been looking for it. It was like all the magic in him suddenly rose to the skin, took on a life of its own, seeking to break free. It took hold, spreading his limbs wide, and shattered the bubble around him, then faded, back into the background. Twilight doubted he’d notice. In truth, it reminded her of when she’d earnt her cutie mark, and the times after that, when she’d wielded the Elements of Harmony. Twilight hadn’t needed to enter that state many times in her life, but the theory behind it was sound. Fully embodying one’s special talent could enable them to enter a Passion; a state of being where they, for lack of a better description, became that talent. The embodiment of magic, for Twilight, or transcendence for Boundless, though this was on a much smaller scale. Boundless dropped to the ground, the last vestiges of magic dissipating on the floor around him. “Surprised?” he asked, a sneer playing over his lips. “That doesn’t work on me.” “No?” Twilight replied, fighting to hide a smile. “No. Get out of my way,” he said. Twilight gave in, letting her grin spread across her face. Boundless’ scowl deepened, and he stormed past, brushed against Twilight as she stepped out of his way. She did nothing to stop him from leaving. Really, what could she do, short of injuring him. Twilight wasn’t ready to give up, but she wouldn’t cross that line, not unless she had to. Besides, she had learnt plenty from the encounter. Boundless’ vendetta against society was rooted in confusion and fear, the personal crusade of the outsider. It was deep, powerful, yet straightforward; a search for answers. That made him dangerous, yes, but it also gave Twilight hope for resolution. The right words, from the right pony, at the right time, could change the course of his life. She’d also witnessed his transcendent Passion at work. He had let slip that he had a cutie mark—confirmed by the presence of a Passion. A blank cutie mark, then. Again, unheard of, but Twilight wasn’t unduly worried about it. Cutie Marks were representative, and a blank picture could represent quite a lot. Twilight turned, following Boundless out of the basement after a five minute wait, smiling. It had been a profitable trip, but she wasn’t ready to turn what she knew over to the police yet. Not without trying to help Boundless—and Trixie—herself. *** Trixie didn’t place herself within sight of the station. The last thing she needed was somepony witnessing an azure unicorn sniffing around the scene of what could become a crime. Instead, she appeared a few miles further north, along the line that ran to the Crystal Empire—the line Shining Armour would be departing when he left Canterlot in two days’ time. Fortunately, the line itself branched out further ahead, tracks leading both north and out west, to Vanhoover. Trixie had been on that train multiple times, and knew it well enough to teleport along its length. She hadn’t come here immediately following her discussion with Cumulus at the coffee shop. While scouting and setting out the details of her trap was fine, it would be useless without the date and time of Shining’s departure. Cumulus hadn’t been sure on how to obtain that information, but as she went to leave, charging the teleportation spell that would take her here, to the tracks, Trixie had had a thought. She’d quickly switched destinations, instead heading to the home of a pony she’d never met. A guardspony who would’ve served closely under Shining Armour during his tenure as Captain of the Royal Guard; somepony who might reasonably be expected to catch up with him, if only for the sake of a past relationship. Somepony who’d worked closely with the city blacksmiths—who in their number had, at one point in time, included Brash. It was Brash's memory that had appeared in her mind. Of that, she had no doubt. It seemed a peace offering, though she could still sense his displeasure with her actions—as if she had a choice in the matter, as if she wanted this. However she’d gotten it, though, suddenly she’d known about Deft Touch’s connections in the military, even where he had lived. Brash had carried deliveries there many times. Trixie just hoped he hadn’t moved. Perhaps it meant they were getting closer; spilling knowledge between them without intention. Was that good, or bad? Would they become a single, mass consciousness, with shared memory and personality? Or would each of them fight for control over her body, slowly tearing her apart? Trixie wanted to understand them, yes, the magic involved in their appearance, but she didn’t want to get rid of them, her last link to her childhood, and all she had left of her friends. Thankfully, Deft Touch had been home, promptly answering her knock. Some smooth talking bought her his friendship; Trixie dropping names from her past, and Brash's, to ease any misgivings he might have had. From there, it had been simple to lead the discussion to the good Captain, all the great things he’d done for Canterlot and Equestria, and how he continued to serve up north. Deft Touch had a lot of respect for Shining Armour. Somehow, Cumulus’ memories hadn’t captured quite the same pony. Deft described a pony of majesty, somepony you could follow without reservation. To Deft, he was a pony of honour; a different light to Cumulus’ reserved analysis. It made her task all the more difficult. Trixie would’ve preferred the coldness behind her original impression. Powerful, certainly, but at the same time, he’d been just a picture on the wall. Still, she was able to learn what she needed. Deft hadn’t just served with Shining, he’d been a close friend, and, as she’d correctly guessed, he’d made time to see him during his visit. He had been willing and able to tell her that Shining was leaving on the afternoon train, two days from now. Following that, she’d come here, to prepare the trap. Trixie had never been to the Crystal Empire, but she knew the journey took more than a few hours. By the time the train arrived, and they realised Shining Armour was missing, it would be too late to send word back to Canterlot. Trixie would have till the next morning to hide him. She stepped close to the tracks, trotting alongside them for a few minutes. While Canterlot itself was on a mountain, most of the land between it and the Empire was flatland, stretching into the distance. If she could find the right place; a distance close enough for her to teleport back with Shining, and far enough to escape detection by a city full of unicorns, then she could place an enchantment on the track. Basic spell theory taught that every unicorn had a tiny sliver of magic power in them at all times. Most unicorns referred to it as their life-force, a classification Trixie didn’t agree with. She thought it was more a link to magic than life, a thread connection the unicorn back to the font of all power, though she had no clue what that was. Nevertheless, just as each unicorn’s magic was unique, not only in usage, but also in flavour, texture, so was their thread. Trixie could attune a ward to that thread. When Shining Armour passed over the section of track, he would trigger the spell, targeting him and nopony else. Trixie was hopeful that he’d be alone—he was royalty, after all—but just in case, the spell would lull everypony to sleep in a six-foot radius centred on her target. He himself would be out of action for around four hours. Long enough that he wouldn’t be waking while she transferred him, but short enough that they could get what they needed quickly. Trixie wasn’t inclined to try hiding from Twilight, especially after their last encounter. That's a lot of guesswork, Trixie, Brash said. Never a good idea, you know. Leads to shoddy quality. I can’t help it, she snapped back. I’ve never done this before So why are you doing it now? Trixie didn’t have an answer. The trouble was, as much as she debated the morality of her actions, weighing logic and reasoning against the sick, sinking feeling in her gut, she'd given herself over to Boundless the moment she’d forced the confrontation. The choices before her had crystallised from a murky bayou of endless possibility to two distinct paths. She could obey, take responsibility for what he did with her life, and try to mitigate some of the harm he spread. Or she could leave, and in doing so sign her own death warrant. There was no escape, not while she lacked the strength to damn herself. And really, that’s no escape at all. Trixie found a serviceable spot in the track, coming round a bend in the mountains and out of any tunnel that would obscure vision. She set the ward, then left, teleporting back to the hideout in Canterlot.