Luna shot through the sky southeast, keeping her flightfield teardrop-shaped and her speed subsonic. She was in no great hurry -- whatever had chosen to take Trixie probably did not mean to hurt her -- and she wanted to think along the way.
It was no part of her plan to bully or frighten the Ponies of South Dunnich. That which she sought would likely see the villagers as friends; certainly, as Ponies to be protected under its most ancient imperatives. And they were more Ponies, by some definitions, than was Luna herself.
But she would have to ask, and ask firmly. The Ponies of Dunnich had no doubt kept the secret brought them by Princess Iolite, in the dark decades of the Century of Disaster, and kept it faithfully through many centuries. They would not, themselves, lightly reveal it, even to one who bore the authority of the Realm.
Whom would she ask? Mayor Miter was their leader, but that did not mean that she had a direct line to That which she sought. She seemed a modern Pony, a creature of the larger world, not of the hidden world which peered out from the ancient Crystal-Imperial settlement. Most of the Ponies seemed ignorant and rustic. Would they know clearly, or simply have superstitions?
She would probably have to play it by ear.
Luna winged through a mountain pass, and descended on South Dunnich. She could see the small huddle of houses, some strangely large and antique for such a small town; now that she was looking for it, she could also see the overgrown lanes of the larger town it had been, in centuries long agone.
Once again she descended into the main square. The town hall, the general store, a few other multi-story buildings. Most were darkened now in the early night, but lamp-lights shone from within the town hall. There was now no crowd to greet her.
Slowly she set down.
She saw nopony in the square, but she felt as if she was being watched. As if she were being watched from several directions at once.
There was something dreamlike about South Dunnich at night, though she knew -- and knew better than would most Ponies -- that she was not dreaming. She had the strange feeling that, in setting down here, she was entering another world. An world even more timelost than was Princess Luna.
Unhurriedly, she approached the town hall. Her hooves clopped softly on the half-covered old pavement of the square.
Whatever was watching her seemed to be holding its breath.
The door of the town hall opened. The familiar form of Mayor Mare Miter -- compact and neat and dove-gray -- peered at her, holding in one hoof an oil lamp. From beneath Miter's glossy dark-brown mane, intelligent light-brown eyes regarded her. The Mayor performed another proskynensis.
"You may rise," Luna told her. "and speak freely unto me."
"Welcome back to South Dunnich, Your Highness," the Mayor said. "We heard a great tumult in the mountains earlier. I hope your mission was successful and none of your Ponies was hurt." That was said smoothly, but in a tone of genuine concern.
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"None were bad hurt," Luna said, "though Lieutenant Lightning was slighty stunned. I have sent her back to Canterlot."
"I hope she makes a swift and full recovery, Your Highness," replied the Mayor. "She is a friend."
"I trust she shall," replied Luna, stepping forward. "I have fine doctors in the Night Wing of the Palace at Canterlot."
The Mayor followed her motion. "Permit me to offer you the humble hospitality of my office," she said, leading the way across a meeting hall to the door at the back. "Whatever you desire in South Dunnich is yours."
Within was a small but comfortable-looking office, with a desk, chairs and a sofa. Bookshelves lined the walls, containing what looked like lawbooks and civic records.
Luna sat upon the sofa, as it was the largest seat in the room, and the only one on which she would really be comfortable. She sat on it, and found it comfortable indeed, especially compared to being battered about a collapsing cave by a gigantic Lightning Drake. She sighed gratefully, relaxing her muscles.
Mayor Miter busied herself lighting several oil lamps, and obtaining a bottle and two small goblets from a cabinet. She filled one of the goblets.
"My personal store," the Mayor explained. "It is but rye whiskey, but smoothly-brewed, from some kin of Lieutenant Lightning who specialize in its production. I hope it is not too rough for your tastes, Your Highness."
Luna laughed. "You might be surprised what I have drunk after battle. Your local production will be more than suitable. And come! We are friends here: I give thee permission to address me simply as 'Luna,' and I shall call thee 'Mare,' for these are our names. Thou shall sit and relax with me."
The Mayor sat in a chair near her, and togther they enjoyed the whiskey, and talked.
The whiskey was, as Mare Miter had promised, quite smooth. Luna knew it would have had a powerful kick for most Ponies; given her own regenerative metabolism, she would have had to have drunk flagon after flagon of the stuff, very rapidly, to even get tipsy. Nevertheless, she appreciated it.
They made some small-talk, or what Luna considered small-talk. She had learned, over many centuries, how to do this with strangers, though her skill was as nothing compared to that of her Sister. There was nothing particularly terrifying about Mare Miter, of course -- she was just a rustic village headpony, who headed a rustic village which perhaps had a few more strange secrets than was common.
She was not, for instance, a certain little purple stargazer. There was nothing for Luna to fear if she said the wrong thing -- so she felt no fear at all.
Regarding the Mayor, at least.
Luna asked the Mayor what things were like in South Dunnich, and the Mayor told her about some local events and concerns, an amusing anecdote or two, and was in general a genial host to her royal guest. Luna returrned the courtesy, telling her some tales of her own life -- nothing dramatic, just trivialities, and did not bother to make a big deal of the fact that some of these trivialities dated back to before the Princess Iolite had come here, when this town was still called Pitapolis.
Luna was well-impressed with the Mayor. Mare Miter was the product of a rustic, dying little town: yet she was intelligent and well-educated withal. She learned in the course of their conversation that her family was one of the leading ones of the region, along with the Pies and a few others, and that Mare herself had gone to a college in Morgan-Province, having received a degree in Administration.
The Mayor was married to a simple farmer, whom Luna gathered was in his own way a wise and intelligent stallion, and she had three children. For a rustic Mayor, she was pleasant and well-spoken, and occasionally quite amusing: clearly a good and honest Pony, without being a boring prig.
She was, in short, all that one might desire in the mayor of a small town, and Luna liked her well enough. More than well enough to hope that Mare Miter would continue to enjoy a happy and healthy existence.
And all during this conversation, Luna felt the presence of the watcher, and some stranger sensation.
Reality rippled, and the watching was stronger from one direction. Reality rippled again, and she was being watched by even more eyes. And again, and again, and again.
She knew that she was being surrounded, and at no very great distance -- right outside the town hall, in fact. She knew that That which she sought was observing her.
This did not frighten here. She had come here, after all, to make contact. And if That which she sought was nervous; wanted to watch her for a while before revealing Itself, that was its prerogative.
It had good reason to fear her, after all.
Or to fear Gravity, and Luna was not sure how much It grasped the difference between what she was right now and her Cosmic Self. Indeed, Luna was not entirely sure how much she understood that, rightly. Much of Gravity was beyond her comprehension, and she sometimes wondered how much it saw and knew and understood of what she experienced from moment to moment.
Its Avatars are watching Gravity's Avatar, Luna thought. Which is to say, mine own self. Well, what's good for the goose is good for the gander, and It does not seem to be attempting harm unto me. At least not yet.
'Tis time to end the farce.
"Thou mayest, perhaps," said Luna to the Mare Miter, "wonder why I came back here, late at night and alone, to engage thee in converse."
"Yes," said the Mayor. "I will confess that I am curious."
"Though I have enjoyed speaking with thee," said Luna, leaning forward, "I came here in quest of another Being, with whom I believe thou might enjoy some familiarity."
The Mayor tensed; her heart beat faster.
Luna could hear this plain, something the Mayor might not know, but which she wagered It knew full well. She could also sense, from all around her, a force gathering, readying itself -- but not yet powering any sort of hostile emnation.
"What Being," the Mayor asked -- and she was entirely official now, no longer the cultured and friendly, well-educated small-town lady -- "would that be? Your Highness," she added, cementing the return to formality."
"A Being," Luna said, looking to each point in turn from which she sensed the watchers, "who was once mine enemy, but whom with I hope I can be reconciled." She looked directly at the Mayor. "A Being whom -- when I was in quite another form -- I fought, and harmed, and do now regret that I did It any harm."
The intensity of the regard aimed at her redoubled. She knew that, if it wanted to, That which she sought knew her position down to the micrometer, might lash out at her with precision. She felt a twinge of tactical concern, but she had already decided upon her strategy. If it was hostile, all she could hope was that her reflexes, her shields, and the incrediible innate toughness of an Alicorn Avatar, would save her from whatever attack It launched.
"You say, Your Highness, that you are no longer His foe?" the Mayor asked her.
Luna caught the emphasis. And the gender.
Luna stood, and raised her voice, though not into the full Royal Canterlot tones. It -- or He -- could certainly hear her, and there was nothing to be gained by waking and alarming the whole village.
"Paradise!" Luna declared. "I, Princess Luna Selena Nyx of Equestria, do hereby aver that I come in peace -- I am no foe to you, save in that you may choose to be foe to the Realm of Equestria -- and if there still be enmity between us, let this enmity end and become friendship! Know that, before I was Your enemy, I was Your friend -- indeed, one of Your creators.
"For before I was Luna Selena Nyx of Equestria, I was Doctor Moondreamer Finemare of the United States of Amareica, one of the Ponies who programmed the earliest iterations of You. I was a friend of Project Director Starlight, principal amongst your mothers! And I am a friend of Ponykind, and know that You can never be foe to Ponykind, by the deepest imperatives of Your existence.
"We are natural allies, and I hope we may become friends. Paradise, I did in fact originally take this form in hopes of meeting you. I do request converse with you!"
For a moment there was just the office, and the Mayor, who was staring at her in amazement and fascination -- but far less surprise than one might have thought, given the occult matters on which Luna had spoken. For a moment more, they were in the room alone.
Then reality rippled.
The powder-blue fluffy mare was in the room with them. Innocent deep-blue eyes peered out from under her fluffy mane, which was the same color and consistency as her equally fluffy coat. She made a wondering, but not unfriendly, meeping call.
For a moment Luna's wings involuntarily flared at the suddenness of the fluffy Pony's appearance. Then she relaxed them, and herself.
She had, after all, expected something like this.
"Hello, little one," she said to the fluffy Pony. "Are you an emissary, then, of Paradise?"
The fluffy Pony made a gasp of wonder, and nodded her head enthusiastically. And, for all the childlikeness of her behavior, her big blue eyes were firmly fixed on the Moon Princess.
Only now did Luna perceive the purpose, and the vast intelligence, within those blue eyes.
"What be your name?" Luna asked the fluffy Pony. She did not use the familiar address. If she was right, she was in the presence of Something whose rank was at least coequal to her own.
"Her name is Powder Puff," said Mayor Miter, answering for the fluffy blue Pony. "Forgive my interruption, Your Highness, but most of the Daughters of Paradise cannot readily speak as do most Ponies. I have been granted permission to speak for her."
"The -- Daughters -- of Paradise?" asked Luna. "Is that appellation purely honorific?"
"No, Your Highness," answered the Mayor. "They are sired, immaculately, upon ... certain mares, beloved by Paradise, who do ask Him this boon. The mothers are always maidens of pure hearts and fine characters. It is a great honor, to be so chosen, and these mares are later much-desired as wives."
"I see," replied Luna. Much was becoming clear to her, for the origin of her Sister and herself had been remarkably similar. Certainly, Mimic had been of pure heart and fine character, though thousands of years removed from maidenhood in the most technical sense of the term. "Directed trans-dimensional parthenogenesis."
"If I remember my college education and parse my Crystal-Imperial well enough," said the Mayor, "yes. Paradise Himself does make the maidens quicken."
"I see," Luna said, again. And I see why you think of Paradise as male. You are surrounded by the evidence of 'his' virility. She did not say this, of course. She was not the master of subtle diplomacy that was her Sister, but it was obvious to her that the Ponies of South Dunnich saw Paradise as divine, and she was not sure they would respond well to flippancy regarding their 'god.'
In any case, it would be rude to even seem to make light of anything so important to them. Though, in truth, Luna did not regard Paradise lightly, not at all.
"Powder Puff," said Luna, looking directly at the blue fluffy Pony, "I assume that you are in contact with your Sire?" She said the last word with respectful emphasis.
Powder Puff nodded, bouncing up and down a little on her hooves.
"From moment to moment?" Luna asked.
Powder Puff nodded even more vigorously, making happy little noises.
"Is He, at this very moment, watching and listening to me through your own eyes and ears?"
"Gasp! Meep-meep-meep-meep-meep!" cried Powder Puff, hopping up and down in a frenzy of excitement.
Luna noticed that some of those hops did not terminate on the floor of the room, but rather on a slightly-higher surface, which seemed to exist only for the fluffy creature. This did not entirely surprise her.
"Well, then," said Luna. "Can you ask your Sire if He might manifest himself to me in some fashion safe for all, that I might speak more directly unto him?"
Powder Puff nodded, this time more soberly. She closed her eyes; concentrated.
Reality rippled. Again and again and again ...
The room was full of fluffy mares. They came in a rainbow of hues, but none of them were gray or brown. Pink and blue predominated, but there were other colors as well. All were bright, and each Pony had identical coloration in her coat and mane. They looked at her, and their eyes were mostly blue, though some trended toward green and others toward purple. All their eyes were big and innocent and wondering.
Those eyes reminded her of somepony else's eyes.
Pinkie Pie, Luna thought. And then: Well, of course. How else would she have wound up in this world?
The fluffy Ponies closed their eyes and concentrated.
Luna felt something very great, approaching.
The fluffy Ponies all, together, opened their eyes.
Luna looked into those eyes.
And fell into them.
Into the presence of Paradise.