//------------------------------// // Chapter 62: Revolution // Story: The Trinity of Moons: Mending Shards // by Cloud Ring //------------------------------// ⊛⊛⊛ Gentle backed away a little, came back forward, tried to raise her voice - nopony replied and her weak cry was lost to the darkness. She raised her leg in front of herself, blinking a few times — to no avail, there was nothing to see at all. Try as she might, she could not even discern her own hoof.  With eyes closed, though, she could still see the fading hints of the Moons — two of Them, as Black Moon’s green shroud was nowhere to be found. Then Cursory’s much brighter web shone nearby; white pegasus was still alive, but sleeping too deeply, her soul on a shore from which ponies leave the sand of dreams and enter the flows of death. Straining her eyes and looking around, peering into the utter black, she made out webs of two more living creatures — Solid Line with her cat; nopony else, and even Solid was barely sparkling in the darkness. Still, at least they weren’t asleep. Her ears drooped, she walked closer to Cursory so that— she had no idea what then. She knew that she was making a choice, leaving behind Blue Moon, her mentor and friend. Waves of memories, of events that did not happen in this reality, were still rolling over her mind, receding for a time and leaving her lost in the darkness. There was no ‘Starfall-TX’ anymore to fulfill Cursory’s wish of an imagined ‘happily ever after’— Hey, chin up, sugarcube! she thought to herself in a sympathetic voice — two of them, actually — nothin’ bad happened yet! Don’t tell us you’re ‘fraid of the dark. It will end, I just know it! And if needed, we will carry everypony out on our backs, or push them. When she got very close to Cursory, the darkness receded around them, still covering the edge of the ocean and the village. The familiar starry sky opened up above though. Bowl, Butterfly, Feather, and further on all nine main belt’s constellations, all the way to the horizon, almost like they were at home, in foalhood, on the edge of the Great Desert, when Gentle and Dispassion admired the sky and studied it, lying together side to side. Oily blades of darkness were stretching from the surrounding curtain of blackness into the sky. The curtain was growing, threatening to close over Gentle again, and above the curtain, an impossible Moon steadily rose higher. Steel-silver, deadly shiny, speckled with dark tumor-like spots, and there was no magic at all in its light, or if there was, then it was so alien that Gentle could feel nothing emanating from a Moon at all from it no matter how hard she tried. And not a glimpse of the Trinity of Moons in the sky; where alicorns stood before, now only two pale pearls shone weakly on the snowed sand.. Gentle managed to not break into a cry of dreadful horror. Stepping back, she hugged the warm sleeping Cursory Streak and stared at the sky, her ears wide, reflecting the atrocity. This is not what we wanted, she thought over and over again; she wanted to close her eyes and fall into a dream, into that other future, where Moons were still alive. Gentle did so, but the merciless silver pierced even through her closed eyelids. She turned away, and simply lay down, having lost track of time, as a black dome grew over her, slowly devouring the sky. The empty stare of a strange Moon was burning out her strength, magic, and the very desire to live. Of the impenetrable sparkling shrouds that used to be the familiar Moons, only pearls in the darkness remained... but no matter how hard the darkness tried, it could not extinguish them and Gentle felt a faint hope. If it would turn out that only you can save the world— the unfinished question slipped through her mind. Was that Sharp Cut? Or Pink? The orange shadow from the Six, or all of them together? They didn't finish the sentence. Because out of the solid wall of darkness, Black Moon stepped out, still in the same primordial armor, Her bags were torn to pieces, barely holding together, and what once had been there, was there no more. Solid Line and Signal sat side to side on Her back, and Black Moon’s hoofsteps were soundless and light — none of the riders ever moved as their carrier walked into the center of the circle, each step measured. “I cannot be hurt by darkness and void, o reputable adversary,” Black Moon said, looking up at the sky. “I have forgotten much more about these aspects than You will ever know. But answer, for the sake of other Apexes,” Black Moon slowly stepped aside, as a sparkling silvery spear hit the snow where She had just been, “What do You want, and can we speak instead of fighting? I hope you are more reasonable than the Red.” Gentle saw a deep ugly crack that went across the chest plate of Black Moon's armor, ruining neon-green sigils or pushing them away, and fur underneath was smeared with dark blood. But the question nevertheless sounded utterly calm. Other charges of silvery black energy fell from the sky to the shore, aiming to where Black Moon had not been for a third of a beat at least. “You had your singular opportunity hiding in the shadow of an immortal. You squeezed everything out of it. This had not been enough. Now, immersed in the stolen Ascension, you are immortal and I see you. What now?” Black Moon said then, dry curiosity in Her voice, not a hint of anger or confusion. Again, there was no answer. From the sky, as before, a silvery-black rain of spells kept falling — ribbons, circles, spirals, continuous streams. They did not touch Black Moon. When there was a place to evade, Black Moon was always there, and when there was not, She disappeared for several beats under a continuous wave of dead light or raised a dark purple shield, firmly standing below. It was like a dance, a game or a test, but if Black Moon could attack in return, She did not. Solid Line, sitting on the back of the Moon and holding the cat in her forelegs, meanwhile weaved complex spells and gradually the angular web of her yellowish magic hung over the entire battlefield — unreliable, tearing under the silver assaults, but over time nevertheless becoming denser and brighter. Time passed, then more time, in a silent one-sided duel — only occasionally a charge of hot air was reaching Gentle's coat, or a hiss of discharge touched her ears; and even when a shot from heaven was supposed to hit Gentle, it did not, leaving careful notches along the contour of her body. Gentle was afraid to speak — she had an almost impossible, stupid thought that she did not want to think through to the end. Not even a thought — a wish, a hope for a possibility to come true. She wanted to cry it out loud, but was afraid to distract Black Moon. Black Moon sent a sigil of shining neon green in her direction, which meant nothing but "Do tell Me what you know about ponies of the upper space." So Gentle did, whispering under her breath — as much as she could bear and remember from a short visit to the station — about collected and affable ponies, their weapons, their looks down towards the lost home; about transparent longing in Purity's eyes, and Meteor, who wished nothing more than to die back on the planet’s surface; about Dispassion, who transferred herself into a metal body in order to survive the death of the world, and, it seemed, died anyway, as in that body, behind the black void of her eyes, there was not a trace of a living soul, there was no Dispasson, there was nopony— Gentle knew that she was heard with attention and thought, even as the silvery dance went on. As soon as she would stop, she could almost hear the dryish but encouraging prompt of Hmm, and then?, so she continued to speak out until she dried up, coughing, with a throat dry and a tongue swollen. Cursory still slept in her hug. The pegasus never would have allowed Gentle to hold her that way with any witnesses around; and yet, even knowing that it would be worth respecting her supposed opinion, Gentle could not break herself away from her pegasus. The Black Moon gave her no time to feel sorry for herself. Do you agree to your own Ascension? Black Moon asked, Her voice settled in Gentle's thoughts as a guest, polite but weary. Now I see that I cannot defeat the synthesis of Dispassion and Purity, but it is impossible for Me to cooperate with Her either. I will attempt to save other Apexes instead. Please, accept the new history of the world and keep it. Then maybe something will change and We might yet return then. How? Gentle asked with a similar thought. I do agree, if it’s necessary! she added after a short silence. You're not the only one with Pinkie Pie's shadow... and you alone will not be enough. But without you, it won't be enough either. Now wait, think it through, and if you are not ready, do not hesitate to refuse — there are other ways to resolve the issue. You still have time while Solid Line prepares to unleash the Word… A blink of silence, The Red will also be a part of your Moon. Another stumble later, It has already agreed, on its own terms and under its authority. You will have to put up with it — otherwise it will interfere with you and then the outcome will be much worse. The price for the help of the Red has been set, and two-thirds of the price has already been paid. But individually, you have no chance of holding the history against this monster. I made a decision to seal Sunset once more while she was still weak, for her participation would destabilise the synthesis. So, do think and decide. How do we get started? Gentle asked. The question about Sunset was too difficult to ask. Those who also have a trace of Pinkie Pie will come to you. Don't be intimidated and try not to reject them. They will be closer than you can imagine. Yes, Sharp Cut is invited too. Gentle did not immediately understand what that meant. Streams, touches of other ponies’ thoughts, names and personal images came flooding from what was neither inside nor outside. Curly Stanza, a pink young filly, white mane, singer, married in a trinity, two children; Bow-Tied Lancet, a middle-aged orange stallion, a pink mane, a practicing surgeon, recently crashed on alpine skis, looking for a pair, and more after them. At first they were almost invisible, then interesting, then there was nothing left but them. She was accepted. They knew her. They understood her too, with all her fears, with the bloody brilliance of Sharp Cut deep in her— their— souls. Because all the pink ponies of the world shared this spark between themselves, even though only a select few among them gave the copper-maned knife-wielder more than a passing thought or two through all their lives, and even fewer ponies than that were close to actually learning her name.  In the last beats before becoming part of the single Pinkie Pie who was unexpectedly and urgently required in the sky, Gentle Touch escaped from the benevolent crowd of close and dear ponies— —recalled her home, her mom and dad, ones who were real and waiting for more letters— —and kissed Cursory Streak. She saw the flutter of her eyelashes. She looked at Cursory, eyes first open then closed, imprinting the image, absorbing each and every little detail, and silently vowed to never forget. I'm ready, Gentle thought to nopony in particular. Three beats later, Gentle Touch, Herald of the Blue Moon, with all her fears, anxiety, suppressed dreams of being cruel and carefree, a good pony who denied her immense power in order to evade any responsibility, dissolved. 🎈🎈🎈 Rising into the sky, Rose Moon knew that it was a bad omen to look back. Yet She had to. She called Her ponies, one by one, and when you call — you have to face them, to look in their eyes! She saw the world beneath Her and Her place in heaven that was always on the other side of the planet, always away from the merciless silver. She took care of selected aspects of power — Life, Joy, Warmth and Light — everything that Pinkie Pie considered important; and did not forget to keep an eye on how things were going with the Red. She gratefully accepted the cover of secrecy from the last surviving Moon of the Trinity — so that Gray would not try to destroy her on takeoff. She saw Solid Line completing the blood ritual, and how Signal weaves into it unnamed thoughts of other times, while Black Moon, with a well-designed movement, allows Herself to be wounded by another ray of dead light, so that the adversary would not decide to look aside at the most unnecessary moment. She felt the Red as a strong push to the side — if a Moon could have a side; the thought sounded funny and Rose Moon giggled. Naturally, with a new and very powerful guest, She slightly changed Her color and aspirations, then picked one more aspect just to feel Herself whole. The change was small. Imperceptible even. So She decided to stay Rose. The public image matters, doesn't it? Then Rose Moon was convinced that She would not change anymore, and, reaching for the eternal cube, made a turn for a new history. The one where She, of course, always had been and always will be. The one where She will make everything delightfully messed up, where nopony else will stop Her from being the way She wants, where some jokes will be mixed with blood, and excessive sadness will not be recommended to anypony ever. ☄☄☄ At first there was silence and void, then an acrid and rough smell of hot plastic in her throat. Then blue and green flashes came through her eyes, still closed, and with them the magnetic sense came alive. A steel shell, high-frequency alternating currents everywhere — even not knowing her name yet, the pegasus knew that she had already been here, and that she was a pegasus. Then — with a memory — Faraway Storm's  face faded in, and from there in an all-encompassing wave the rest of the memory had been awoken. Along with her memory, the one that was not quite her own and not quite a memory stirred too. The viscous Maybe we are doing something wrong as Sunset went into the sky, then taking care of Gentle's body while the mind of her beloved wandered in visions of ‘Guiding Starfall-TX’. The anxiety that came from Gentle and for that reason was beyond any doubt. A shout to all Moons at once, as she did when she had to solve problems in a team. Darkness without images and voices, just a little slower than a flash of light. Cursory Streak managed to call for her inner fire; then she was gone. “Wake up!” — now she was called by Storm and one of the younger ponies, she could not remember who.  She resisted — there was no point in returning to where there was no Gentle, and Gentle was not there, she was nowhere, not a trace of apple scent in the air— “Wake up, you fool! Time is running out!” A prick in her thigh spread through the body in an icy wave, her muscles shivered in large tremors, she took a deep breath, coughed and woke up. “We're underwater,” Blacklight looked into her eyes, “and we need a miracle again. We need you.” I know, Cursory wanted to say, but she had no breath, so only a thought remained, and only blue and green lights on the sides prevented the absolute darkness from closing in on her once again.  Inhale, exhale… slowly. “Where is... Gentle Touch?” she whispered “Above,” Storm replied, and Cursory looked at her. She was disheveled and twitchy, which was… mostly unlike her, but Cursory had no energy left to wonder over that, “Everything went wrong… and I'm sorry, but Gentle is now, well… she is a Moon. Sunset said as much and more. So decide, and quickly: if it suits you, I take off the shield and you float out.” “Not only Gentle. Plum and Dartline, they… I don’t know where they are. If they are,” the black unicorn intervened, almost crying, “Please pull yourself together, and let's fix it!” "Doesn't suit," Cursory whispered, “Let me sleep? Then we'll talk…” "Be this any other situation, we would let you get some much needed rest. But history has changed fairly recently, so aftershocks keep happening. On one hoof, Sunset shelters us from them. On the other—” "I got it," Cursory interrupted. "Even I would first check the current glory of the Moons before leaving the Net. She is too bright for your tech, isn't she?" “Yes. Her aura can keep us safe from aftershocks indefinitely. Unfortunately, by the time aftershocks stop being a threat, that same aura will erode our protections from the new timeline's more insidious influence. We have a third of a slice left,” Storm said, a bit annoyed. Cursory got to her hooves; her head was still spinning. Blacklight flipped the toggle switch and turned on the dim yellowish three-sided light. Now Cursory could at least see faces. “What's happened?” she asked, still struggling. “In that history we had a coup, thanks to you,” Storm’s smile was crooked, “You slipped a little piece of data Dispassion was lacking before. If the Red was able to injure other Moons during its Ascension, then Moons can be injured during Ascension. She didn't know for sure, but she played all or nothing and won. It was absolutely against Purity's will, and the unending one put up a fight, but Dispassion managed to ally with her husband by promising him freedom, and it turned out that almost every fifth of the stations’ personnel was a Departed, even though — unlike Dispassion — none of them got rid of their flesh yet, and all computer systems were owned by the Departed too. By Dispassion first and foremost. But what is most important, Purity did not expect betrayal, and neither did she expect their forced Ascension.” “What about the Trinity? I warned them…” Cursory looked at Storm directly, waiting for her to say that it was a joke. Storm, still too naked without her suit, did not look away. “The history of the world has completely changed. The Moons desperately tried to do something, thanks to you. In the new history, there are special units that capture those who are trying to awaken the Trinity — any of the Apexes. Of course, according to them, they exist to apprehend ponies looking for ‘ancient evil’ and perform ‘disincentivizing measures’. That is how it is called now. Instead of the Trinity, there are two fake Moons in the sky, one very hot and pinkish — a gestalt of,” she stumbled for the smallest fraction of a beat in her otherwise rapid-firing reply, “your Gentle and her Plum Jam, and many other ponies went into it. The second is ice-cold, silver on one side, dark on the other. The latter is— elseonce had been Purity and Dispassion.” Cursory blinked, “That is, your fake Moon achieved what she wanted and became real. Good for her. What is it in here that you don’t like, what do you want from me? And what about our Moons?” “The unending one never wanted to be a Moon! Let's skip details? Time is running out, just wish for anything to end this terror, and that’s it! And did I ever say that I used to be on the side of the Departed? Purity's strike would be transparency and brilliance as an ice crystal, not darkness, okay?” Storm cried out, and for the first time Cursory saw the mask of her arrogant confidence and superiority crack open. Storm’s words were more than just passion and willpower; they left an impression of a ramming charge. Cursory was willing to do anything to avoid seeing the anger in her shining purple eyes, she ached to follow the request — but this desire did not belong to her, and there was a crack in Storm’s resolve, so she took a step towards Storm, tilted her head and whispered, “No, it's not okay. If what you say is true, I've already lost everything. I don't want to lose more. Tell me everything that's wrong now. All that needs to be fixed.” Storm looked confused for a beat, “Lose more than everything? Are you okay?” “No, I’m not,” Cursory smiled. Blacklight added pleadingly, “Hurry up. I don’t want to be alone anymore. I will never find new friends in this world.” Cursory nodded to her, trying to cheer her up a bit — if it comes to that, she herself would not have left Blacklight wanting, not until picking up a decent replacement for her severed ties… but it seems that the unicorn did not follow. Storm narrowed her eyes. “For a start, alignment there means a side in the long war. Isn't that enough?” Cursory blinked and Storm quickly followed on, “These are completely different ponies, both in appearance and, in fact, their customs are incompatible, their languages aren’t even close to each other, they cannot even have common foals! Below the sky of Purity, ponies of Rose Moon are sleeping, and vice versa. Gray ponies take advantage of this, striking at entire sectors of the city. They have already made a truce many times, but—” "Hold on," interrupted Cursory. "Do they kill ponies?" “If only,” Storm replied, “They do worse. Dispassion has always believed that salvation from the future destruction of the world lay outside of life. More precisely, in unlife. They take souls, pervert them and bring them under their banner—” “Banner?” Cursory was at a loss again, but the question somehow managed to put Storm off-balance too. Blacklight took out her notebook and prepared to write it down. “A piece of fabric sewn in a certain way, signifying the unity of goals, preferences, choices— I wasn’t speaking literally. Doesn’t matter. The stolen pony souls are among the supporters of the Gray, they receive new bodies from a mixture of electricity and mechanics but cease to be alive. If you destroy these bodies, they no longer go anywhere, neither to the Forest nor to the sky— they just— simply no longer exist, and— “Enough,” Cursory sighed, “What needs to be done? Even if Gentle doesn't come back, it sounds awful.” “Oh, and it’s probably not even worth mentioning that they have almost no magic?” with feigned relief Storm asked, and Blacklight, clearly indignant, took a breath, but could not find words; Cursory felt for her. ”Good. Work one more miracle. Let the Trinity return, allow Purity to come down and let her rest at the surface. Let Gentle, too, come back to you. To answer your question, you have two out of the Six, there is no chance without you. With you we can try.” “Even if it could be fixed with a miracle… you can’t order it in precise details, remember? And I feel like a third of myself… We have neither Gentle nor Dartline nor Plum and I do not know where Solid Line is— you have no clue, haven’t you? We lost half of the Six already,” Cursory objected, but the inner flame was kindling in response. When you see trouble, when a pony is in pain, you have to be in the open, so that you can be called. Storm called her — that was enough. “We have me. I'm ready to enter the circle of Six,” Storm snapped. “And then there is Sunset—” “I have nothing to do with this,” answered a dry, indifferent voice, “You deceived me. You lured me out, only to destroy me. And you got what you wanted. I am wounded.” “Then why are you protecting us?” Blacklight asked warmly and sincerely, “You could have just left us!” “Only for your sake. Not for Storm and her band of traitors. You hurt me, but at least you did not know what you were doing. So…” Sunset answered evenly, calmly, and yet a little hesitantly; there was a pause — a prompting one. Cursory thought for a moment and said, pleading, “Then do it for us. For Blacklight's sake, at least. She did not even begin to live—”  “Hey!” indignantly interrupted the unicorn. “—and now what, she will be killed by the ponies of another false Moon?” Cursory ended anyway. “I don’t know. It doesn't matter,” Sunset replied, with a touch of annoyance, but also a hint of uncertainty. Cursory stepped over and looked at Storm again. “How much time do we have? “Four nines of kairos on the shield. Time left… the ninth of a slice. Maybe a seventh, but don’t bet on it,” she replied. ...so square nine of beats, Cursory did the simple math. Enough to make three points, without a rush. “What would Plum say?” No, better avoid that line. Too much for their unsteady rapport. Instead… “I know that you do not strive for power and victories, but… apparently, there is much more suffering and pain in this world than there was before,” Cursory said quietly. “You've always looked after your ponies. Isn't that enough to try and fix something?” “They are not my ponies,” Sunset snorted. The doubt was not gone from her voice, but she did not sound any more sympathetic than a few beats before either. “And… you heard Storm. What she says — does she speak like a traitor? For me, this is more despair rather than—” Cursory went on. Sunset exploded with a shout, “Shut it! None of you know what true despair is!” At this point their uneasy cooperation was under threat of complete collapse. But instead of playing it safe and seeking to redress her misstep, Cursory went into attack. "If you surrender, if you let them keep you submerged, sealed in this 'special spector', then despair will be all you have. They will be right, from now and to eternities both future and past. "You will be proven to be neither reliable enough to be called upon ever again by allegedly your ponies, nor powerful enough to even make a difference. Not just in the face of the Trinity, but even the fake ones. This is the end Sunset Shimmer is choosing for herself: unwilling, unworthy, unacknowledged." Cursory did not drop the pace, but shifted to a higher tone, "Or, instead, you can extend a hoof to those who know you, and are willing to be friends with you anyway. So you would become real and alive again. Those who are entrusting you with everything, and are hoping to work a miracle together. And maybe, just maybe, to help one of them get her love back too." She expected Sunset to either cut her off early, or to be won over and burst into joint action. That was an oversight on her part. Instead, Shimmer stared at her silently and calmly, until the beeping of the kairometer reminded everypony that a decision needs to be made now. "Be careful, little one, for I might yet take all your words at face value." “I have not granted you the right to choose for me, reputable Cursory Streak, and even if I did, beware that you are nearing the edge of reason… in my opinion,” Blacklight noted, wary and strictly formal.