Choral gnashed her teeth, her entire body acting as a prism through which to channel the leylines of Luna's spirit. Her limbs shook; her horn vibrated upon the breaking point. Finally, after five agonizingly long minutes of broadcast, the energy she had housed for so many hours in her body drained out. The horn went dim, and she fell back in a breathy groan.
Noktyrn and the other sarosians were there to catch their half-sister. They smiled and nuzzled her, cheering in their own joyous, whispery way. As Choral relaxed to catch her breaths, her allies charged swiftly back down the hill towards where the ancient doorhatch remained hidden. They hissed after Choral, urging her to come along before any Imperialists discovered them trespassing on the dark side of the moon.
Choral swiveled to follow them. Suddenly, however, she paused and turned around, facing towards the bright side of the moon as the sunlit horizon retreated from sight. Breathless, she remained focused on the distant plains of darkness. Her heart beat heavily in her chest, and a quiet instinct—like a distant echo—forced her to reach for the pendant dangling around her light-colored neck. Her hoof toyed with the bat of polished nickle. Sniffling, she smiled into the emptiness and murmured three passionate words into the ashes of Consus.