The Trinity of Moons: Mending Shards

by Cloud Ring

Chapter 47: Transgression

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They were putting the miracle off as best as they could, savouring each beat of anticipation. Over tea, pancakes and sandwiches, telling each other stories and rejoicing at the long-awaited meeting. Blacklight joyfully pretended to faint when she was told that in her friends and herself the few remaining pieces of the legendary Six were hidden all along, but for a third of a slice she smiled wide, occasionally straightening her glasses. Less flashy, she gathered from Gentle Touch's quiet comments. Less outstanding, so even Black Moon had to have an effort to account for them. Smaller, was left unsaid but clear.

She saw Dartline frowned at that; Plum Jam aside of her giggled a few times, in that small way she sometimes did when a joke she just thought up was too complicated or obscure to share it. Yet, next to Heralds they did all appear-- like some little ponies, Blacklight admitted with an inner sigh.

She never gave it out. A beat later, Gentle Touch looked at her and smiled warmly, and the frigid ravel of jealousy in Blacklight's chest dissolved without a trace.

They kept waiting.

It could be anything: a signal from the sky, a ray of light or a circle of Rainboom. The moons, embracing the horizon in a triangle, also seemed to stand still in anticipation. Storm, who later emerged from the shuttle’s cockpit in silence and invited the cat to her back with a slight bow, sometimes grinned through the visor of the helmet, but did not rush them. Her appearance caused a few questions from the Messengers, but “Everypony chooses for themself” said in tongue-in-cheek tone, served as a sufficient answer, although Cursory snorted.

Cursory told them colourful and detailed stories about her work at her station, about how she and her colleagues tracked down a foal in a half-flooded underground labyrinth but were late and had found an unbound instead; how this lead, in turn, to a romance with a backwater street artist; a few cycles full of heated anticipation for each next meeting until there just was no such meetings anymore in a quiet settlement near the ocean at the very edge of the Net. And why, because of this, Cursory had to step down from the Art Recognition and Testing for Subsequent Evaluation Commission.

Dartline was quite successful in pretending that she was not interested, but the twitching tail still betrayed her. Blacklight took notes. Plum Jam occasionally poured a cup of fizzy coffee drink for Cursory. The pegasus was content, smiling at the sincere delight of the audience, and her pearly radiance, subsiding for times, never was extinguished.

Gentle was silent. Gradually, all the ponies gathered around her and next to her — Gentle’s muted orange color did not dispel the darkness, unlike Cursory's flame, but it was there, modest and nourishing, like a well-groomed apple orchard that will be there providing food and air for many generations of ponies. Next to Gentle, Blacklight felt that nothing bad could happen, and fear was simply not invited to this meeting. Less fabulous than Cursory, Gentle Touch was also a Herald, and thus Blacklight was jealous of her too, even if to a lesser degree. They did not interfere with Plum, who was constantly wedging into the conversation; they were hearing her out, smiling at her responsive tellings — not even stories but mere impressions of how beautiful the world is.

Then the sandwiches ran out, the White Moon went down the horizon, and Plum neatly rolled up the tablecloth.

No miracle happened. It did not happen even when they entered the strange ship, warding each other as they awkwardly climbed these steps; Dartline flew in among the last, making sure no pony fell. When all six of them, along with Storm, stood above the capsule with a yellowish-gray sleeping unicorn inside, the miracle still was not there. Even when, by Blacklight’s advice, they put their front legs on the capsule lid, touching them for three beats in a communion gesture; no discharge, no magic, no insight flashed. An awkward silence, shrouded in indifferent white electric light, in which the flame of Cursory's heart was diluted.

Blacklight tried calling the shadows by name, but she was as far from Twilight as a scrap of a rough draft was from a published book; she knew and felt this, and she did hear nothing back, not even a silence. Heralds, having a whisper between each other, reluctantly admitted that they had not heard or felt anything from their shadows since leaving the sky station.

Gentle Touch added that it is not that the shadows have left for good, but through blurry hoofsteps and barely audible echoes of not quite their own feelings it’s like the Six walked through soul doors that Heralds are unable to see, being not worthy enough. They do not want to talk with the Red, but neither do they want to refuse directly.

On leaving the ship, Gentle Touch briefly panicked that somepony had apparently snatched the vial of ‘Guiding Starfall-TX’, but Plum Jam, booping her nose with the tip of her hoof, just said that everything was fine and in order. For about nine beats Gentle was at a total loss, not even knowing what to say, although she did try; after that she quickly shook her head and quietly snorted, “I won't even think about it.”

“That’s how you do with Pinkie Pie,” Blacklight said in response.

They did not really know what to do next. Dartline asked how they even came to the idea of summoning the Red in the first place, addressing the pegasus, and Cursory began to speak, but instead of her, Gentle answered in a slightly apologetic, low voice, “Do you mind if I answer? The idea is mine so the answer should be mine too.”

Dartline glanced disapprovingly, but did not object.

Gentle began her reply after a pause, obviously choosing her words, “It's inside me, in two ways, if not more. Ever since I was injured by the Red, I wanted to know what the hay. Why it hates me so much, and what I did to deserve this hatred. Not only know but feel for the Red, understand it and accept it.” Gentle paused again, “In long dreams in the hospital sector, I ran after the Red, and then I lost sight of it, and there was no pony around — neither the Red nor any other ponies, except— but then the dreams were forgotten. And I would not remember them ever again, but recently my beloved pony said that she would not refuse to talk to the Red. Because for the Red there is some way to heal, some hope. I am a healer, you see… Cursory, my pilot in the sea of doubts, do I retell your words right?”

The grayish-white pegasus nodded slowly, but did not say a word.

“I think it’s pain,” Gentle continued, “Ponies do a lot of stupid and weird things because of the pain. If that is the case, I might ease it, or at least try to do that. If not — at least I'll ask why. And it seems to me that the Moons at the same time want us to do this, and are unable to ask this from us in a direct way. While we were under Their light, we— I think that in general we did not mind meeting the Red face to face but Cursory directly spoke about it not before she was in the vault, without a Moon in reach. Then Solid Line plainly refused to be a weapon against the Red, so I'm pretty sure she would also be on our side. And if it was only this, we would go to the ritual by us two or us three, but... we have shadows of the Six, and this should also matter. They met and defeated many monsters in their lives, and not always by force of weapons and magic, am I right, Blacklight?

The black unicorn nodded, “On average, seven cases out of nine, they solved issues through negotiations and compromises.”

Gentle smiled awkwardly. “So… I see a door that I couldn’t walk through before, in rounds past, and I don’t want to miss it this time. And I will be grateful if you — everypony, except maybe Dartline and Plum Jam — would follow me.”

Dartline snorted nonchalantly and muttered, “Well, thanks for the answer. I’ll be frank, not a very convincing one, but I will not leave Blackie.”

When Blacklight suggested summoning the Red as soon as possible, the gloomy silence seemed to deepen even further. Several voices asked her to repeat, and she repeated. She was asked to state the idea in more detail, and she stated, “You are going to call her in any case, even though it is suicide, right? You have no backup plan, no escape scheme, no defense. You do not intend to defeat it, and you have nothing to defeat it with. You just want to offer it the peace like the Six would. If so, we have no need to postpone the plan for the future, as no future will change a thing. You will not be either more careful or equipped for the task. It doesn't matter if Fluttershy is with us or not. Also, I have a mirror. Maybe the only thing that will wake Fluttershy is the Red. Yes, we can try and wake her ourselves before that, but I have a mirror now. So... let's do it. Please.”

On that they generally agreed with her, Blacklight understood in a beat. The polishing of technical details and transport issues took up more than a slice.

Storm insisted that the ritual take place away from habitat sectors, preferably in a vault. This was the first of two significant amendments. The second was that Storm will observe the ritual site from afar “to document your corpses. And because I am the seventh out of the six, and these times never hold a place for me," Gentle and Plum pouted together, which affected her enough to add "and, perhaps, to save you later."

They paved the runway for the alien ship with group effort. Rough processing of the relief, selection of materials for coating, firing and leveling of the surface ended faster than they had been prepared in words, especially since the runway had to withstand only one takeoff. Dartline, who after a few sideways glances managed to overcome her inner sloth, went up and drove in a refreshing wind, and nopony would ask more from her. She was quite impressed with the tools of Storm and the power of her magic, like many other guests of the park, who watched the process in delight and awe. Blacklight was displacing debris while Gentle was taking care of many living things in the soil; Plum Jam was humming an uplifting song, and that, too, was important, teaming them up from a rattle of barely acquainted ponies.

There was one accessory to pick up before takeoff. Blacklight walked to her one-room apartment alone, having asked ponies not to accompany her. The accessory was a clear mirror, which at one time got a license only through a significant reluctance. Blacklight had to make a written and signed promissory note that the mirror was really necessary for her research, and attach a copy of her designation too. She was questioned about it only once and without leaving her own room, thankfully.

The unicorn did not take the mirror out of the room in a beat: for that it was too heavy and large. She almost dropped it from her back, as it barely fitted in a door frame. In fact, she could use some help, especially since it was too big to grasp its entirety in ponykinesis. Despite that, she definitely did not want to show outsiders the mess, dust, and heaps of not exactly trash in the corners.

Storm was waiting for her outside, and the mirror disappeared, without a sound, into the bag on the back of her suit; the green unicorn did not even bat an eye on the load, and the bag took a mirror inside much like a cup of tea takes a sugar cube.

On the way back, Blacklight tried to ask if Storm approved their venture, and got that in response, “No, but I will do everything I can for you to succeed. We are not at enmity with the Red, but if you succeed, it’s great, and if not, we will know how not to approach it,” Storm paused, then added with a hint of apology, “In fact, I relate to you and I will feel sorry for you, but I'm tired. The Six must have been exhausted too. If you succeed, you will ease the burden of the world. If not, then your death will free the shards for the next rebirth, speed it up, and we will try again if there will be a time. And I will remember you.”

The flight to the vault took almost no time compared to this walk, although Blacklight lost her breath by the acceleration on takeoff. As the unicorn realized, listening to the ship, for her this flight was akin to a standing jump: fast, powerful and very short.

Heralds were at first divided on Dartline’s and Plum’s entry. But, for one, Gentle Touch reaffirmed that these two have sparks of the Six too. Then Blacklight, holding back tears, with a foalish anger stated over and over again that Plum is more Pinkie Pie than Gentle herself. And, most importantly, both Dartline and Plum said that they are in this together and leaving Blacklight alone is out of options. Still so very young, they have not only come to unbound age but passed it too. The first threshold would be enough; the second one made their right to choose for themselves absolute.

Cursory Streak tried to discourage them for almost a slice, to no avail, reminding that this is dangerous and — more than that — likely fatal, as nopony returns from the Red unchanged. She did not succeed, and so it was settled.

Also, left unsaid as comfortless, formal and known to everypony, there was a reason for their participation: eight as well as four were the numbers of the Red. They had no power to reach the ever side, so the only option was to perform the ritual as is, from reality, potentially breaching the world’s borders to the Red. Storm remarked that for these cases ‘regional resolution center’ has its own protocols in place, tested and used in practice more than once, all the more rational given the fact that the sector for performing the ritual is mostly uninhabited anyway.

That was why everypony gave blood for the ritual, even Storm and Signal.

Gentle whispered and Plum strayed a bit, caught up and followed on.

“From times untraced / From places unborn / Come to us
With a chipped goblet / That was once so red / Invite us
To dance on broken glass / With entourage abuzz / Lead us
For your home that is not / Meet us at the threshold / And drink us.”

A film of their blood spread over the mirror, the surface went wavy, and nothing changed, except a ghostly feebleness that made Blacklight acutely aware of her body’s weight. The reflections stared at them with intent and a touch of fright, as did the ponies themselves. Solid Line’s capsule inside the mirror was as quiet and indifferent as it was in front of it.

And yet, something was wrong. Listening and looking closely, Blacklight understood.

None of the reflections had a mark.

In the starry sky — which, of course, could not be in the vault — not a single Moon.

And — in the distance, beyond them and behind them — the ocean waves rustled in a constant rhythm.

Blacklight lit a small ball of silvery-white light at the tip of her horn so she could see better. She came closer to Cursory Streak, met her eyes looking up and got a nod back. The reflections repeated her magic, her step and her gaze, but with a slight delay, and the color of Blacklight's magic on the other side of the mirror was a little bit wrong, slightly darker blue than it should have been.

After waiting and making sure that the Red had no intention to go out to them, the ponies lined up in two columns, without saying a word, leaving Blacklight and Cursory at the head. There was no place for the third one in the row after all, by the mirror’s width.

The Red did not come to them. Instead, it was inviting them to come in.

Blacklight shivered and was about to change her mind; but Cursory Streak, covering her with a wing, led her to the mirror with quiet and cautious force.

Closer in. One more step. And inward.