1000+ years after the coronation of Prince Silver Sky
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I used to believe that we were innocent.
That was a long time ago.
It all started with the lunar expedition. It was the greatest accomplishment of the modern age. Mortal ponies would set hoof on the moon for the first time in the history of all of Equus. We had had orbital bases for over two hundred years, but the moon was… sacred ground. Captain Moon Glow was a descendant of The Sky King, her lineage passed down from the Great Night Watch herself. Each of us were hoof chosen by the Night Queen to represent each of Equestria’s pony tribes.
The ship’s pilot was Flitter Shade, a pale yellow umbrum who didn’t talk much, but knew her business in the cockpit. She was a nice mare, once you got to know her. Though she seemed shy often as not, she was fiercely brave in her own domain and sometimes talked to our ship like it was a living thing she could coax into proper behavior with kind words and a firm hoof. Given her success as a pilot, maybe she was right.
Security officer was a tough, deep blue, no-nonsense Lunar Pegasus named Shadow Snap. He was friendly enough off duty, and he took his duty seriously. It was his job to get us all back safe and that was what he planned to do. Nopony was ever really sure what we needed security for on a barren sphere that nopony had seen in 1000 years, but the Night Queen had been quite insistent on the matter.
Our magic analyst was a solar unicorn, Sunrise Aurora. One of only two solar ponies on the mission. She was short in both stature and temper. Sun ponies like us were tolerated at best. Unicorns especially. It spoke to her level of professional skill that she was chosen at all. She was proud almost to the point of arrogance, I heard that she was a descendant of Starlight Glimmer, the element of magic, though not directly. She knew full well that ponies like us had twice as much to prove. Ironically she looked at me as a “token” pony. After all they already had one sun-pony, what did they need a pony like me for anyway?
As a biped sun-pony, I felt I had as much or more to prove… and to lose. My lineage wasn’t nearly as illustrious as some of my crew-mate’s. That made me proud in a way. I was the science officer. There’s little a biped can do with hands that a unicorn can’t do with their horns, but we’re clever with machines in ways that other ponies just aren’t. My name is James. It’s an odd name for a pony, but bipeds are known for weird names.
My assistant was Murmur. Murmur Judith Solitaire. You’d think she was just a lunar earth pony, until you looked in her eyes. They were a pale lavender that struck the eye like a salmon jumping against the waterfall. Her sideways pupils focused in a way that let you know she saw everything. She was an archaeologist by trade. Her cutie mark was a shovel and a pony skull. Her fur was shaggier than you might expect, and the color of butter cream. But not unpleasantly so. She always swore there were the bumps of vestigial horns on her forehead, but to be honest I never noticed them if they were there.
It was on our first pass over Mare Imbrium, the sea of tears that we first spotted the anomaly. Hundreds, if not thousands of crystal formations spiralling across the silt sea. Were these the work of the Night Queen? Legends said that she had once made her home on the moon for a millenium, surviving purely from magic as only an alicorn could in the barren vacuum. As we passed closer, our more focused view-screens showed a fact even more shocking, these were not mere crystals, they were statues of ponies, of a tribe never seen beneath the moon and the sun.
We landed that day and began preparing the lunar rover for the long trip across the silt sea. We then slept, but the lunar night was not kind to our dreams. Each lunar reported the same nightmare, lost and alone in darkness for an unknowable time, crushed under a feeling of unexplainable guilt and anger. My sleep was fitful but whatever nightmares disturbed it faded with the first light of consciousness. Sunrise awoke with a nearly manic desire to reach the site. It was all Captain Moon Glow could do to contain her enthusiasm enough to prevent her from taking the lunar rover on her own.
In the end, we settled on a four-pony away team. Shadow would accompany Sunrise, Judith, and myself, while the captain and Flitter would secure the ship. We were to explore the site, take pictures, and make non-invasive analysis, treating it as an archeological site until and unless evidence proved otherwise.
As we approached the first of the statues our initial observations from the ship appeared to be confirmed. These were indeed statues of ponies, but not of any tribe that had appeared in any record we were aware of. They were distinctly insectile in appearance. Though the heads were distinctly equine, they possesed fangs that would shame a lunar, and most had spiny fins in place of a mane. As we walked among them the most disturbing features were in their facial expressions. These statues seemed to have been made from models caught off-guard during day to day activities. Each face locked in fear and horror. A sense of utter shock was nearly universal. Why would anypony commision such statues? As works of art they were disturbing at best.
Most were nearly identical, at least in form. All were sculpted from what appeared to be a deep black smoky quartz and depicted both mares and stallions reacting to some unknown catastrophe. Only six stood out from the rest. The first were four statues near the center of the formation. These were the first to show variation in the basic tribal type.
The largest was a tall, regal mare, sculpted from a deep scarlet rosey quartz. Her mane seemed to flow in a nonexistent breeze, her dragonfly-like wings spread flared, and she stood with a look and poise of pure defiance. On her head rested a regal crown. I couldn’t help but picture her as a noble ruler, perhaps a queen, standing between her people and what-ever disaster had befell them. Despite her alien, insectile appearance, there was no denying her beauty.
The other three were both disturbing and sad. In the middle was a filly foal, carved from a pale pink quartz, screaming in fear, her lower jaw split in an odd way that wasn’t visible in any of the others, and three small tendrils flailed defensively from her mouth. Flanking her protectively were two mares. One was carved from the same pink crystal, but was more similar, at least in build and stature to the crimson queen. She was far spinier than any other subject however, and her mouth split into an impossibly wide snarl, displaying rows of shark-like teeth. The fourth statue was simply heartbreaking. It depicted another alien, set a black crystal, crouching in fear and defiance before the foal (doubtlessly her own). Her face as a mask of worry and confusion. Beyond that, these statues stood out in that they seemed remarkably, impossibly well cared for. It had all the appearances of a well-tended grave.
“We shouldn’t be here,” I remember Judith whispering over the com-link before we quickly moved on.
At the far end of what I could only call the memorial were two statues that stood out very differently. On was another queen, this one sculpted from blackened jade. Where the first queen had stood regally as if defending her ponies, this one seemed to me to stand in arrogant defiance, her face twisted into a sneer. The statue lay on it’s side, discarded carelessly in stark contrast to carefully placed statues of the field, or the meticulously maintained memorial at it’s center.
The final statue was almost ignored as a simple pile of broken crystal, until Sunrise lifted one of the larger shards and turned it over to reveal the maniacally laughing mask of a mad stallion. On seeing that, we were able to pick out a few other tell-tale pieces, a hoof here, a fetlock there. It seemed as though this statue had been smashed, not once but repeatedly, as if to vent some anger, some insatiable hatred that would never lie in peace. Sunset put the crystallized face into her vac-suits pack, and as she did a foreboding tremor shook the Moon’s surface in ominous warning. That marked the end of our first expedition to the field of statues.