//------------------------------// // 24 - Moongarden // Story: Black Angel // by Zobeid //------------------------------// The night was mostly clear, with only a few streaks of clouds drifting past while the waxing gibbous moon searched the sky for its missing third. Warm air buzzed with the trills of cicadas punctuated by the recurring call of a nighthawk. From time to time a “whoop” sounded when the nighthawk dived after flying insects, the spooky sound made by air rushing through its wings. Far below, silvery light scattered over leaves like water in a fountain, and in the shadows fireflies dipped and flashed yellow, and glow worms slowly pulsed in blue. A path lined with flickering candles wound through the grove, and by the side of the path was a marble bench with a velvet cushion. Upon this bench, sprawled across the cushion, rested a pony of midnight blue with a crescent moon marked upon her hip. Princess Luna lazily reached down with a bare hoof. A beautiful sphinx moth came to rest upon her hoof for a few moments, until it flitted over to sip nectar from the night-blooming buttercups that grew nearby. Luna sighed. “I should remake this place in the waking world,” she mused. “I’ll make it as lovely as it was before. But where, I wonder?” She perked up her ears. Sharp, exquisitely high-pitched squeaks came from above. Several bats fluttered down, and they flapped around her, squeaking excitedly. Luna’s eyes darted as she tried to track their erratic movements. “What? What? Slow down! You want me to follow? To show me something?” She hopped off the bench and quickly slipped on her silver shoes, and then chased after the bats. It was only a short distance to the pond. Luna looked around, from the willow trees drooping over the water to the rounded white stones around the pool’s edge. Nothing seemed out of place. “Is it something in the water?” she wondered. She stepped closer and peered into the pool. There is an old legend, carried down from the tribal times, that is told among the earth ponies. They say that whenever a unicorn sees its own reflection it becomes captivated by its self-perceived beauty and thus is trapped until someone or something interposes and breaks the line of sight. This lore is considered a disreputable story in modern times, prejudicial and obviously untrue. Perhaps it was meant as an allegory about unicorn vanity, or perhaps it gained currency because only wealthy unicorns could afford mirrors in that primitive age. When Luna looked down into the pond and saw herself, she smiled softly, and her tail swished contentedly, and she gazed and mused. Perhaps a little bit of her ancient unicorn heritage stirred and whispered to her, “Of all the lovely things in this garden, surely you are its centerpiece.” Perhaps. After some moments, however, she began to perceive that something about her reflection wasn’t quite right. Her fur and her mane weren’t really that dark, were they? Her eyes… Did they really look like that? She piffled at herself. Silly, silly! This is a dream, don’t forget. My dream image is whatever I wish for it to be. Yet, still her dream reflection refused to cooperate and stuck its tongue out at her. Luna scowled and scuffed the ground with a hoof. “Don’t mock me!” The surface of the pond bowed upward, water displaced by something rising underneath. Luna took a half-step back but could not turn her eyes away. Then the mirror was broken as water splashed freely and a black mass erupted. Luna was bowled, knocked backward onto her reflexively-outspread wings, while a larger, darker pony — dripping and coughing up water — came to rest on top of her. “WHAT? WHO?” Luna managed to squawk as unwelcome rivulets of runoff water poured onto her body. The black pony coughed and sputtered, and then stammered, “Oops! uh… Hi?” Luna growled and bunched up her hind legs, then shoved the stranger off her. In an instant Luna flipped upright to face the larger pony and crouched with her wings spread in a threatening display. Her face hardened with recognition. “YOU! Nightmare Moon?” Even as she spoke the name it twisted into a question. This apparition lay on the ground, sopping wet, mane and tail plastered to its body, head drooped and ears lowered, with no armor and — most inexplicably — no cutie mark on its hip. And yet… It was recognizably her. Her size, color, wings and horn, and most of all those cyan-teal dragon eyes, they were all those of Luna’s past alter-ego that had been the author of so much grief. For a moment Luna was befuddled. During that moment the other pony also got upright on its feet, although less gracefully. “No, no!” it objected. “I’m not Nightmare Moon! I mean, not yet… I mean, not the one you knew — not the one you were.” Luna’s horn had already begun glowing as she prepared a magical attack, but she held back. Glaring at the mystery pony, she demanded: “Explain! If this is a trick, you’ll soon regret it.” The black alicorn bowed submissively and said, “I… I was created by a magical accident here in the world of dreams. I’m supposed to be, uh, Nightmare Moon’s replacement here in The Dreaming. When ponies dream about her, I’ll be here to fill that role.” Luna’s magic dissipated, but she still glared with deep suspicion. “You’re no mere fleeting dream image?” “I hope not. I want to be more than that. Please help! We have a plan, but we need you to make it work.” Luna recoiled. “Help you? Why should I help you? I’d rather no pony ever dream about Nightmare Moon again. If I could erase all memory of that hateful name, I would.” She waggled a hoof, trying to wave the other alicorn away. “Begone! Haunt my dreams no more!” The stranger looked stunned. “But why? Nightmare Moon is your creation. Is she not a part of you?” Luna spread her wings and fairly yelled, “Not anymore!” “Oh… Now you hurt my feelings,” came the reply — from behind Luna. She whirled about, just in time to catch a face full of midnight blue aura, sparkling with stars and with stardust, the dream sand of Lord Morpheus. She reared on her hind legs and pawed at her muzzle, but the evil mixture had already infiltrated into her mouth and nostrils. She gagged and heaved, wings fluttering helplessly. To her Nemesis, Nightmare Moon said, “Good work! You did a fine job of distracting her. I doubt whether she would have known if buffalo were stampeding behind her.” The Nemesis gawped, eyes locked onto the struggling, flailing form of Princess Luna. “What did you do to her? It wasn’t supposed to be like this. It’s hurting her, do something!” Nightmare turned her gaze to Luna and coolly observed, “Her resistance to The Blessing is strong. A second dose may be needed.” She floated the bag of dream sand out of her starry mane, then poured some of the glittery grains from the bag into it. “Blessing?” The Nemesis glanced at it for a moment, not understanding, but her attention was drawn back to the still-struggling Princess Luna. “This is not right! You’ve got to stop it.” “Wrong!” Nightmare Moon retorted, as the second mass of blue aura latched onto the Nemesis’s muzzle, and in seconds she’d joined Luna: gagging, heaving, flailing helplessly in panic upon the ground. “And that’s what I should have done with you to begin with, wretched creature!” Nightmare Moon laughed while both her alternates were gradually overcome. They weakened and their struggles ceased, but their eyes were open and they breathed heavily. Nightmare sniffed at them, nudged them with a silver-clad hoof. “With both of you under my thrall, the time has come.” In a fine bedroom, in a fine manor house, in the fine city of Canterlot, a pony tossed and turned. Sweat-stained sheets tangled around his flailing limbs. He mumbled and whined. Then, suddenly, he started awake, flung away the sheets and sat upright in his bed. His eyes, wide open, glowed with an inner light through their reptilian, slit-pupil irises, and Spell Nexus yelled out loud: “THE TIME HAS COME!”