The Trinity of Moons: Mending Shards

by Cloud Ring

Chapter 37: Sacrifice

Author's Note:

Please note: this chapter is significantly more dark than usual. Key points of this chapter will be revisited later on, and the story is possible to follow without this one. Tread with caution.

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Stepping through the doors of the abandoned vault, they knew that they might not return: at least one of them would for sure not come back to the light of the Moons.

In fact, they were certain who exactly will be left behind, too. There was no need to rely on chance or fate, as Speck volunteered himself.

In a not so distant foalhood he lived far from Metropolis, so far away that She remained beyond the horizon, no matter how high Speck soared. These seasons he dreamed of saving everypony, or of helping doing that, but only if he would avoid going to the city.

He loved his freedom too much to consider relocation: barely populated air space to all nine winds around, close to no ground settlements as the area was by rules and traditions dedicated exclusively to winged ones except tourists and visitors.

Then — the ocean shore and the ocean itself.

Above all else he loved fishing in the plentiful season, when the wandering islands of dark ice shift the currents, and the Blue Moon, respecting their inhabitants, dims the light for that sixth of the round.

This season was the most fulfilling in each passing round. His whole family was fed aplenty; Speck usually had more than a few stories to share with friends by the distant winds. Then there was his solitude in the ocean and a quiet voice from below.

At other times city ponies came with harpoons along the edge of the estuary. The coastal ones knew through generations that water is not so different from air, so they stunned fish in a dive with a shock wave.

When city ponies asked which of the Moons he aligned to, Speck answered with bright confidence, "Blue, of course!", without going into details. Only once he was caught lying, and only then the pony, stretched across his belly, insisted that she wanted to know the truth. When she found out, she was not frightened at all, and, being thankful for the company, care and experience, taught him how to recognize Blue Moon's followers without even asking.

He was avoiding them since — the real ones — along the ninth trail, and the rest politely did not inquire beyond his standard answer: in the end, everypony chooses for themself.

However, he was not violating the truth too much: in almost all aspects of Blue — from medicine to arts — Speck knew enough to appear as a talented dabbler, could maintain a conversation, and even weave a magic trick or three, even though he was a pegasus. This was enough for guided tours: he just had to take city ponies to a distant ridge, wait by the coast while they pick up local berries and admire the flowers of prey, and return them to the mainland, without engaging in conversation, but knowing that his money and status gains are deserved.

Nopony felt like going into the dark waves. Diving was even more beyond them; and those who know that the water is not as cold as it seems, kept the knowledge to themselves and met with Speck under other circumstances.

That was why, hovering behind the backs of his comrades and above them with a camera on his head linked to his attention and quiet voice commands, Speck was not frightened: he heard the voice of the Red before, not only alone in the boat but also when he and his relatives hid from the brilliance of the Moons in their full glory under the deceptively thin surface of the water. He had questions for the alicorn, but these questions interested only himself and did not belong to the outlined plan nor to his own place in this plan. Moreover, he never knew how to sound smart and be persuasive.

Engineer Fault, or Engie, was supposed to speak with the Red for everyone, which he did, “Greetings, lady. We came to you, with expectations and hopes.”

“I do not fulfill desires and do not lend my strength,” the Red answered instantly. “And my power does not come from your gratitude.”

The unicorn continued, “Even if, for example, you would return to the sky?”

The Red stepped forward, but the whitish air of the everside stopped it in its tracks. Nevertheless Speck clearly saw the surface of the mirrors bent outward, sparkling with iridescent spots; thankfully, the Red retreated, and the edge remained intact, albeit disturbed.

“I… do not need this,” the Red replied, proudly raising its head and fluttering its useless wings, “Through the eyes of your doubles, the stains of your dreams, the imprints of your fears, I already see what is happening in the world, and I am not interested in it.”

Yet its voice cracked with the want eternal.

“Students? Followers, like for the other Moons,” the unicorn went on with caution.

The Red turned its head a bit, away from Speck.

“Do you offer yourself?” it asked nonchalantly, looking down at the soil again. A small whirlwind of wasps entwined in front of her face, descended on it; entangled in its coat, they did not sting, and Red did not seem to pay them any attention.

“Yes, and much more than that. Your own school. The way open and permitted for those who wish to align themselves to you, even though those will be few,” the unicorn made a tiny step forward.

“The Moons will never go for it. But I am interested, for now,” the Red's voice, however, remained dry and lifeless.

“Or maybe life?” Engie said, stressing the word out, “What will you choose, return to the skies, to a place that is yours by right... or live among the living, and then return to the flow of rebirth?”

The Red’s laugh was short and angry, and Engie stepped back, “I have long been among the living and will stay there. I am your eternal companion, your malady, your reflection. Did you think that I would not find even a single loophole for that?” it smiled, its cyan eyes sparkling.

Speck focused on Engie's face, the squint of green eyes, the light of a magical aura, the glitter of multi-layered protective fields, too weak to stop the Red, and yet sufficient for giving three extra beats to retreat from the everside to reality.

The unicorn continued, losing the initiative in the conversation, but not giving up yet, “So, the sky? Say, nine sequences of a few cycles per round, when you can stay in the sky?”

The Red seemed to consider the proposal, but a few beats later it winked at Engie and laughed again, “I will take the sky myself — in time. I don't need to rush — time is on my side. You came to me as supplicants. Everything suits me,” the wasps scattered to the sides, forming a pattern of hexagons, uneven and fickle, and Speck’s head ached after a passing glance at them, “You have nothing to offer me. Say what you need, and we will move to the feeding there.”

Engie sighed; took a few steps closer to the edge of the mirrors. Cyclone glided down to the completely exhausted Verdi, and stayed close, closer than it would have been polite, but exactly so as to share their warmth. The Red looked at them, whispered something that was beyond the camera's microphone or Speck's ears, and turned away again; termites crawled to its chest, forming a shield there.

“Black Moon would like to make peace with you. For reasons known to you, She feels more guilty than…” he started again, notably unsure.

“I don't care what she feels!” the Red snapped.

The unicorn coughed and continued, “She knows it's not the time yet. That you feel invulnerable and are controlled by anger. But later — later on, when other ponies will offer you what you would need — you will accept their gift and will not give up on their words due to the anger alone.”

“Are you done now?” the Red asked after a silence.

Engie did not answer, and Speck caught himself barely breathing in anticipation.

The Red sat down and started reciting, looking at them, in a rhythm unsteady but resurfacing, “I heard, memorized and even was impressed. No promises, as you will be the first to be offended when I break them. But here are my conditions. Whether to fulfill them is up to you. ‘Everypony chooses for themself,’ isn't it how it goes now?” it smiled, and the longing was there beyond its surety. “Neither do I owe you anything. Here are my words for your Moons; grasp them, accept them as they are and convey them to the best precision, because there will be no other words.”

Its words crawled out of the mirrors, weaving on the floor in a twisted likeness of the signs of the Black Moon; strokes were devouring each other and giving slimy birth in a growing yellowish-red mass from which Speck's eyes were capturing a mere impression, not the truth. Still it was so much more binding than any mortal pony's request: these were the alicorn's words, and by those the Red was demanding to acknowledge its superiority by a few clear and concise offerings.

“You will give me time in the sky, and thus the right to convey my light and my laws to those who want to hear them. You will not be able to give me equal time, and I am not talking about equality — but I will see and understand your will to yield to me.

“You will cripple the power of at least one of the Moons, and thus damage the balance of your Trinity. You will not be able to convey this to the ponies and correct your scriptures, and I am not talking about correcting your mistake — but I will see and understand your will to yield to me.

“You will give me space in the lands, and thus the place to look over and care for,” Now the words of Red rose nine steps above them, still vague, but piercing, like the cry of a bitten pony, "In reality, except for the vault itself, which I will not touch as it should stay safe for ponies, the lands for two-thirds of a range around, if not mine, then certainly not yours, and nopony settles on them to stay nor populate them. You will not be able to say that these are the Red’s tribute lands, and I am not talking about the tribute that I deserve — but I will see and understand your will to yield to me.

“And finally, I take the lives I can take — especially since your brave ponies made an offer. But I would have taken them anyway. Four of your messengers are mine, and the fifth will carry my words to you.

"These are my conditions. I do not promise anything in return, and this crafty workaround to reach me will no longer be enough, but if you fulfill these conditions, and then find my heiress among the living and offer her something that will be worthy of attention, then you will be treated as if you had not killed me, and I might decide then that you are in fact worthy to spare. Then we might follow up on that."

Engie, backing away from the slimy web of words, only managed to utter "Yes, but..." when the web lunged forward, disintegrating before their eyes.

A multi-colored motley mass — ants, spiders, wasps, slugs, centipedes and their curly and low buzzing impossible offspring splashed out from the net, hung over the ponies, collapsed and covered them to their heads. Above the pegasus and the earth pony a much less dense opening hung for two beats, as if the Red was wary or afraid to touch them. Speck saw that they were looking in each other’s eyes reaching out in crushing horror and deep love. Then the opening closed.

In the same beats Fractal stood against the wave, pressed himself to the floor, exposing only his head to the cloud; the unbearably bright neon blue of his aura in triangular patterns enveloped all four and lasted long enough to seem impenetrable; he cried for Engie's help to retreat and was denied with resolute "The Red has stated the price." Then the illusion's time was up and the light went out. From under the stirring multicolored chitin came Engie's cry "Fly away!"

The Red, apparently not interested anymore, turned around and disappeared among the intertwining shadows. Only then did Speck realize that Engie's last scream was for him.

Not thinking much, Speck took a few turns around to capture the lab; then waited to be eaten too. Then he darted to the mirrors and tried to follow Red, plunging into them at full speed, as in his foalhood into the ocean waves; but there was no longer any forest, nor reflections, only a colorless gray dusk, and a pungent sour stench from behind.

Until the everside spit the outsider down the stream into reality, he distracted himself with useless cleaning, and the camera, still turned on, recorded this too. By that time, he had already begun to petrify, but did not consider it particularly important; anyway, the process halted once he was no longer on the everside, and he lost only a half of each wing and lower parts of both forelegs.

A decontamination team found him on the doorstep of the laboratory.

From then began the eighth epidemic of the era of Moderate Development by Blue Time: the third by victim tally, the largest by perceived threat and the last one that escaped the origin’s point quarantine measures — the last in Speck’s unnaturally long life that stretched over the next two eras, almost reaching into the third square nine of rounds, thus tripling over expected pegasi’s age, and doubling over the record one.

He delivered the message to each of the Moons, more than once. He never forgot it. He never took off on his own wings again, either, as the stone, while receding and leaving him healthy at first sight, never truly went out of his body despite Heralds’ best efforts.

He took it in stride, as he always knew that it was more than mere overexposure to the everside. Moons barely could remedy the Red's marks of affection. He never spoke about it with anypony, although Moons knew that nonetheless, of course. Eventually he got a few friends, acquaintances, students and two deeply loved ponies to look for the sky together.

There was one more thing he never shared with anypony other than in his bequest.

In his rare, vague and bitterly joyful dreams, it was the Red who wore his former wings.

Comments

[Numinos]

Oooh, nice one.