To Marenstain Her Good Name
By the time Lyra made her bleary-eyed way out of the bedroom and down the hall to the kitchen, she could see through the door frame that the harsh fluorescent light was already flooding down from above. Somewhere out of sight, the coffee maker was whirring to life, and as the mint green unicorn stepped into the room, she could see Bon Bon was already at the table, slathering butter on one side of a piece of toast.
“Oh, hello, dear,” Bon Bon said, looking up at her marefriend in the doorway. “Surprised you’re up this early.”
“Eehhh,” Lyra grunted, stepping over to the kitchen table and taking a seat. She brushed a lock of messy green hair away from her eyes. “Woke up before you did, I think, and I couldn’t fall back asleep. So I thought it’d prolly be best to get an early start on the day, you know?”
“Mmm,” Bon Bon hummed between bites, nodding. “Can I get you anything? I have to leave for work in a couple minutes, but I could get some pancakes going.”
“Eh, nah, don’t worry about it,” Lyra replied, waving a hoof. “I can just grab some toast in a sec. Just need to sit down—didn’t sleep very well last night.”
Bon Bon frowned. “I’m sorry to hear that, dear. Did I keep you up?”
“Oh, no, not at all.” Lyra sighed. “Just been having some trouble in the last few nights. Might need to cut back on all the coffee, heh.”
“Ah, yeah, that would explain it.” Bon Bon looked down to the newspaper in front of her and folded it back together, sliding it across the table. “Hey, didn’t you know that pony Twilight Sparkle?”
“Yeah, from back in Magic Kindergarten,” Lyra said, though she was already facing the opposite direction, telekinetically moving a couple slices of bread from the fridge into the toaster before she looked back. “Why do you ask—whoa.” Her jaw hung agape as she caught sight of the headline on the paper.
“MARE IN THE MOON: LEGEND COMES TO LIFE.”
Bon Bon watched as her marefriend’s eyes scanned down the page, drinking in the matte photograph of a brand-new midnight-blue princess. And while the story certainly was shocking, Lyra’s speechless expression seemed... disproportionate. “...Honey?”
“Wha-huh?” Lyra looked up, suddenly shaking her head. “Oh, sorry. I’m just kind of confused by this story on the front page.”
“Hm?” Bon Bon raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
“Well... first off, they’re acting like this ‘Princess Luna’ is some sort of big news, something nopony knows about. But I definitely heard stories about her even from when I was a filly.” Lyra tapped her chin. “Though come to think of it, I’m not sure if that was her name or they called her something different...”
“You might be misremembering,” Bon Bon offered. “I mean, the ponies at the Sentinel know what they’re doing. They wouldn’t publish a story like this unless they were completely sure, especially of something with consequences this huge.”
“I don’t know, Bonnie...” Lyra leaned back in her seat, frowning. “I’d believe you, but... I have this memory I just can’t shake.”
“Which is?” Bon Bon stood up. “I’ve got to get ready for work, but keep talking.” She stepped over to the counter with her plate and washed it off.
“Well, it was when I was a filly, a little bit after Magic Kindergarten but not by that much,” Lyra started, watching her marefriend as she moved. “It was one day before school, and I woke up and went down to the kitchen to have breakfast, kinda like now. But my dad was listening to the radio—Canterlot Public Radio, you know—and the pony reading off the day’s news sounded so sad and then got all choked up, stopped right in the middle of what she was saying. And my dad looked from the radio to me, with a look I don’t know if I’ve ever seen since.”
Across the room, Bon Bon stepped to the foyer, and started packing a few items into her purse. “And then what?”
“He told me that the other princess, the one on the moon, had died,” Lyra finished, nodding to herself. “‘Princess Moon’, I think he called her.”
Bon Bon, who was attaching her purse to her saddlebag, quirked an eyebrow as she looked back at Lyra. “Really?”
“Really, I swear!” Lyra said defensively. “I remember it so clearly...”
“Hrmph,” Bon Bon hrmph’d. “Maybe it was a bizarrely prescient radio drama.”
“I don’t think—” Lyra started, but she was cut off by the door opening, and a cold gust of wind blowing inside.
“I’ve got to go to work, honey,” Bon Bon said, wrapping a dark blue scarf around her neck. “But I love you, okay?”
“I love you too,” Lyra said, with a soft smile. Her horn lit up, tracing a translucent yellow impression of her lips that then soared across the room to meet her marefriend’s. “I should be back before you are, assuming Dr. Jastian doesn’t go late.”
“See you then.” In a moment, Bon Bon was gone, and the front door clicked closed.
Lyra was left alone in the small kitchen. Her eyes wandered for a few moments, before returning to the newspaper laid out on the table. Frowning, she looked closer, moving past the headline and the showy image of the princess at the top onto the actual article. As the minutes bore on, her eyebrow seemed to raise further and further. It was only when the two slices of her breakfast popped up from the toaster that she shook her head and looked away.
“So you really don’t think I have anything to worry about?” Bon Bon leaned against the counter, watching the timer tick down on top of the oven.
“Nah.” Peach Pit, her baker-in-arms, was at the counter to the right, sprinkling flour out onto the surface before grabbing a blob of dough in her magic and taking to it with her rolling pin. “Ponies get silly ideas in their heads all their time. She’s a smart mare; I’m sure if you sit down and talk about it with her, she’ll figure out what’s up.” She paused, looking up. “Or maybe she’ll change her mind by the time she gets home.”
“I mean, yeah. That’s what I thought,” Bon Bon said. “It was just kind of weird how... adamant she was about the whole thing. Especially with how... obviously true it is.”
Peach Pit hummed. “What might be obvious to you isn’t necessarily obvious to everyone. Celestia knows there are ponies in my family that I have to explain so much simple crud to. And sometimes they still don’t get it!” She paused, ducking down to glance in a cupboard before reëmerging with a knife in tow. “That’s just how ponies are, yanno? Simpletons to the very end!”
Bon Bon sighed. “I guess I just want to believe my Lyra is better than that—” She was interrupted by the ding of the timer, and the mare quickly got to her hooves, sliding a thick cloth over her hoof. Quickly—but precisely—she opened the face of the oven and pulled out a tray of midnight blue macaroons. Closing the oven, Bon Bon stepped back over to the counter and set the tray down on the metal.
“Oh, those look really good,” Peach Pit said, glancing over. “Are those new?”
“Eh, just spicing up an old recipe,” Bon Bon replied, scratching the back of her head. “They’re to commemorate the princess’s return, you know.”
“Of course!” The pink mare looked down to her own dough, sliced out in strips. “Hmm... I wonder what flavours this new princess likes?”
Bon Bon laughed drily. “If she’s even real,” she quipped.
Peach Pit just rolled her eyes and trotted across the room to open another cabinet. Bon Bon looked back down to her tray of macaroons, her eyes lingering on the deep, rich, true blue.
Lyra lay stretched across the top sheet on the bed, phone levitating by her ear. “Hi, Mom.”
“Oh, Lyra, honey, it’s been so long since you’ve called! How have you been?” Her mom’s voice was cheery—as it always was in the mornings.
“Pretty good, pretty good.” Lyra smiled. “Got class in a few hours. And I’m still looking for a job, but I have a few leads.” That was... almost true. “Hey, is Dad around?”
There was a short pause. “Yes, yes—he’s just out in the garden. Want me to put him on the line?”
“Yeah, if you could, that’d be great,” Lyra said. “I just had a quick question for him.”
“Alright, just a moment...” The faint sound of hoofsteps faded away over the receiver, and Lyra let out a breath. She glanced out the window, where she could see the sun reflecting off a neighbouring skylight.
Her thoughts returned to the phone with the sound of a dry, crackly voice in her ear. “I hear that the young Miss Heartstrings is on the line?”
Lyra rolled her eyes. “Daaad... why you gotta be so weird?”
A laugh. “What do you need, kiddo?”
Lyra hummed. “What makes you say I need something? Maybe I just wanted to chat.”
“It’s 11 A.M. on a Tuesday,” came the flat reply. “If you really have nothing, I do have a book I’d like to get back to.”
“Heh, no, you’re right.” Lyra cleared her throat. “Did you... um... did you read the paper today?”
“You still get the Sentinel, right? Yes, I did see that headline, that flashy nonsense about that moon princess. It’s amazing what they’ll do to sell papers these days, though I’m a little surprised that the Sentinel picked up such an obviously fake story like that. They’re usually so much better than the Tribune!”
Lyra gasped triumphantly. “So it isn’t real! Aha!”
“How could it be?” her father said, with a hint of amusement in his voice. “I know you were young, but I’m sure you remember as well as I—”
“—about that radio broadcast!” Lyra exclaimed. “Oh, Bon Bon’s going to freak when she finds out I wasn’t just making that up!”
There was a long pause. “Er, and who is this Bon Bon, dear?”
Lyra blinked. “You know, my marefriend! Bon Bon! She came with me for Hearth’s Warming, remember?”
A cough. “O-oh, right,” her dad finally said. “Ahem. Right, yes, I definitely remember her.” He paused again. “She gave me that sweater, right?”
Biting her lip, Lyra looked down to her hooves. “No, Dad, she made pastries. Like she does for that bakery she works at, up on Clover Avenue. We told you all about it.”
“Right, right,” said Lyra’s father, a little less shakily. “Well, I wish you both the best. I’ve... I’ve got to go, okay? Hope to see you soon. I love you, sweetie.”
“Love you too, Dad.”
There was a click, and the line went dead. Lyra closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. She thought of her mom and dad, who she hadn’t seen since the holiday, and who she really needed to be seeing more often, especially with how many years were passing them by, and—
“No, wait, crap!” Lyra opened her eyes, looking to the door. “I gotta focus! Moon thing!” She darted out of the bedroom and nigh on hurled the phone back into its place on the receiver in the kitchen. In just a few moments she’d slapdashed together a saddlebag and was out the door.
The sun shone bright, its rays brushing warmly against Lyra’s back as she trotted down the cobblestone street. In the thick of Canterlot as she was, the bustling city seemed busy as ever. Storefront after storefront she passed were filled with faces looking at expensive wares, and the tables outside restaurants seated many a pony enjoying the midsummer warmth as they ate. Lyra smiled as she passed, even catching the gaze of a few ponies she thought she recognised—but she wasn’t there to eat or shop. She didn’t have time for that even if she’d wanted to.
Though as she passed, she noticed a few newsstands, for both the Sentinel and the Tribune. Their full-colour moon princess front page spreads were inescapable, and a pit formed in Lyra’s stomach. All she could do was trot faster, and shift her eyes away.
Moving beyond the heart of the city, the unicorn began to see the smaller, more weathered buildings that made up the Royal District—the oldest part of the city, and the last remaining vestiges of the village it had been before Equestria’s capital was established there, more than a thousand years before. The further she trotted down the narrow streets, the less sound and vibrancy she could feel radiating around her. Many of the old buildings here, designated historical landmarks or otherwise held indefinitely by the City of Canterlot, were completely vacant; the few that were occupied had been held by the same family for generations upon generations, and by this time housed mostly older ponies who didn’t want to leave. Mostly.
Lyra’s eyes scanned the façades, looking for the address numbers to make sure she was in the right place. Although she’d been in the neighbourhood a few times before, it wasn’t quite familiar terrain—and already she was recalling an awkward encounter or two with crotchety old ponies not expecting visitors. Biting her lip, she trotted on.
Eventually, she came across the number she’d been looking for, and approached up the steps. Using her magic, she lifted the knocker and knocked a couple times before stepping back with bated breath.
A moment passed, and then the door suddenly swung open. “Whoa, hey, Lyra!” The bright-yellow mare in the doorway wore a grin on her face, and her flouncy blue mane bobbed with her head.
“Lemon Hearts,” Lyra said with a smile, though it quickly faded to something more unsure. “Do you have a few minutes?”
“Oh, always for you,” Lemon Hearts replied, stepping to the side. “Mare, it sure has been a minute, hain’t it?”
Lyra walked in through the doorway, trotting carefully onto the ornate rug inside. “Something like that.” As Lemon Hearts closed the door, the unicorn glanced around the hall, relieved to see the walls lined with the same old generic landscape paintings there always had been. “Love the new look of the place.”
“Oh, Lyra, you’re such a jokester,” her friend replied, slipping past her. “You wanna sit in the livin’ room or the study? How long d’you have?”
“Hmm, maybe the study,” Lyra replied. “Is that where you keep your research?”
Lemon Hearts nodded. “Yeah, for the most part. Is there something about that that you’re wantin’ to see?”
“...I think?” Lyra shrugged. “Mostly wanted to hear your thoughts and see if you had anything about this whole ‘Princess Luna’ crap that ponies are talking about.”
Lemon Hearts’ eyes grew wide, and she gasped loudly. “Aha! So it’s not just me who remembers!” She ran up and hugged Lyra forcefully, eliciting a squeak from the mint green unicorn. “Woop, sorry,” she said, letting go. “I’m just so glad I’m not, I dunno, going crazy or something?”
“Heh, me too.” Lyra exhaled. “So, you do have something?”
“Do I?!” Lemon Hearts took off down the hall, leaving Lyra to follow in her wake.
Bon Bon took a bite of her daffodil sandwich. Then, setting it down, she leaned back against her chair and let out a sigh. It was her lunch break, and she was sitting at one of the beümbrellaed tables outside of her favourite café. She always felt relaxed when she could take a break from the hectic kitchen to sit out on a warm summer day, and this was no exception... but at the same time, in the back of her mind, there still lingered an inkling of worry about her conversation with Lyra earlier that morning.
She took another bite of her sandwich. Whatever. Lyra would go to class that afternoon, and it would probably get brought up in her class, by the students if not by the professor. Then she’d realise how silly she’d been, how she’d probably just misremembered something from so many years ago.
As she kept eating, Bon Bon eyed the newsstand across the street. The tall pegasus pony manning the booth was holding up a copy of the Canterlot Weekly, a smaller publication that was often seen as a more ‘hip’ alternative to the city’s two main newspapers. As the pony stood there, waving the paper around, he called out: “Who is this Princess Luna? And where does she come from? Does Celestia have an illegitimate child? Pick up today’s Canterlot Weekly to find out!”
Bon Bon bit the inside of her cheek, but didn’t move. Instead, she watched as one of a pair of stallions, who had been listening to the newspony’s spiel, planted a few bits on the edge of the newsstand, picking up a copy of the paper as the pair trotted off.
Frowning, Bon Bon picked up her sandwich and finished it off quickly. Standing up from her seat, she brought her plate back inside the café and left it in the bin, giving the counterpony a friendly wave as she stepped back outside. And as the door swung shut behind her, she stomped with determination across the street, over to the newsstand.
“Good afternoon, ma’am!” the stallion standing behind it said in a chipper tone. “Would you care for a copy of the Weekly? It’s a special issue.” He winked.
Bon Bon frowned. “What in Celestia’s name do you think you’re doing?” She surprised even herself with how close to a snarl those words came out—but the newspony seemed unfazed.
“Selling papers, of course.” He grinned. “Do you want one?”
Bon Bon just facehoofed. “Look, I don’t know what you’re playing at here... but what you’re doing is dangerous. I think you and I both know that what’s in those papers”—she pointed a hoof accusatorily towards the stacks of newsprint—“is complete and utter nonsense. And it’s just dangerous, leading ponies to believe these sorts of things that aren’t true. This could have huge ramifications if ponies actually start to believe this!”
The newspony, who had been just looking at Bon Bon with amusement through her spiel, just laughed as she reached her conclusion. “Look, lady, I’m sorry you feel this way. But my job is just to sell papers—I don’t really care what’s in them. If you really have an issue, take it up with the editor.”
“Maybe I will,” Bon Bon huffed, storming off. The newspony just shrugged, and turned back to his stand to adjust a paper that had been brushed out of place by the wind.
As she trotted briskly down the street, hooves hitting sharply against the cobble, Bon Bon let out a deep breath. She had no intention of going down to the paper’s offices and shouting at the editor; she had to go back to work. And even if she didn’t... who was she kidding? It wouldn’t do any good; she was just one pony, and really it wouldn’t be worth it. And besides, it was just a dumb local publication, some crackpot nonsense that nobody read anyway.
Right?
When Lemon Hearts suggested that they take their idea to the public, Lyra had been ecstatic. And so the two mares, equipped with a couple rolls of butcher paper and way too many markers, trotted through the afternoon sun down the cobblestone road from Lemon Hearts’ house over to a small park nearby, right on the border between the Royal District and downtown Canterlot. They set up shop in a grassy patch next to a pegasus stallion and his daughter who were tossing a frisbee around, and got to work.
“What colours do you think would look good?” Lyra asked, a rainbow of felt-tips levitating in a circle around her head. A large sheet of butcher paper was laid out on the grass in front of her, its pristine white surface hungrily waiting to be imbued with ink.
Lemon Hearts tapped her chin. “Well, definitely some red. That always catches ponies’ eyes.”
“Ooh, yeah,” Lyra said, nodding. “And orange, ‘cause that’s the opposite of blue.” She dropped all of the colours besides those two and started drawing large block letters across the page: “LUNA IS A FRAUD”.
“Perfect!” Lemon Hearts clapped her hooves. “Let me try!” She used her own magic to grab a blue and a red marker and, on her own sheet of butcher paper, drew a pair of concentric circles and then a bunch of smaller blue circles inside. Then, to top it off, she drew a big red line through the whole thing. “How’s this?”
Lyra frowned. “I don’t get it.”
“Ugh, hold on.” Lemon Hearts quickly drew a series of bubble letters. “How about now?”
“Ohhhh, okay. ‘No Moon Princess’!” Lyra grinned, patting her friend on the back. “Yeah, that’s great!” She used her magic to pick up the roll of sky-blue butcher paper, and rolled out and tore off a sheet. “Alright, let’s see...”
“Hey, what are you ponies up to?”
Lyra and Lemon Hearts looked up to see the stallion who had been playing frisbee, with the filly right next to him. They were glancing around the mares, trying to get a look at the posters.
“Oh, we’re just making some posters,” Lemon Hearts started, but she was cut off by Lyra, who stepped aside with a hoof outstretched.
“Have you heard about that bunk about this supposed moon princess?” Lyra grinned wide. “Well, we’re putting together a protest, because we know that’s nonsense!”
The stallion’s eyes lit up. “Oh my goddess! I though it was just me! This morning I was telling my little Strawberry here”—he gestured to his daughter, who smiled—“that I remember hearing about this princess of the moon dying when I was... oh, just a bit younger than you two are now.”
“Exactamundo, my good stallion,” Lyra said, her smile growing. “And it seems like everypony’s going along with this nonsense. So we’re going to try to put a stop to it!”
“Well, count us in!” The stallion stepped over to one of the rolls of butcher paper. “Oh, Strawberry, would you like to do some colouring?” he sing-songed.
“Yeah!” the pink-coated filly exclaimed. She dashed over to her dad, and grabbed a yellow marker in her mouth.
“Hmm, maybe not that one,” Lemon Hearts said with a frown. “Not very visible...”
This seemed to fall on deaf ears, though, as the filly just started scribbling on the page.
Lyra giggled. “What a cute filly. The name’s Lyra, by the way. Lyra Heartstrings.” She reached out a hoof, which the stallion shook.
“My name’s Badger Brush, but most of my friends call me Badgie,” the stallion said. “And I’m excited—let’s do this!”
“Uh, hey, Lyra?” Lemon Hearts’ voice called from behind them.
Lyra turned around. “Yeah?” She blinked at the sight of about a dozen ponies, all eyeing them with vibrant curiosity. “Ohhhh biscuits. Well, then...” She cleared her throat. “You ponies know about this dumb moon princess crap???”
“Yeah!” the ponies cheered.
“Then let’s make some posters!” Lyra cheered.
A click reverberated through the empty apartment before the door swung open, and Bon Bon stepped through. She reached a hoof over to flip on the light switch, flicking her tail back to shut the door.
“Lyra?” she called out, as she let her saddlebags slide off into a pile on the floor. “Are you home?”
Her question was met with silence, and Bon Bon exhaled in frustration. The rest of her work day had been pretty average—with a shift at the counter for the last few hours—but the thought of Lyra left to her own devices with this bad idea in her head had lingered over the rest of the day, especially after the run-in with the newspony at lunch. She was hoping that once she got home, Lyra would be there and they could talk—and Lyra would have seen how silly the whole thing was, or figured out that she’d misremembered—and that would wash the sour taste from Bon Bon’s mouth.
But Lyra wasn’t there. She’d said her class might run late, but... Bon Bon couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe—just maybe—something was up.
For starters, Lyra’s music textbook sat on the kitchen table, right where it had that morning. Bon Bon groaned, stepping over to the table. She’d set it out that morning, exactly so Lyra wouldn’t forget it, as the absent-minded unicorn had a tendency to do. And while Lyra could’ve missed it... the chances of that were pretty unlikely.
Just as Bon Bon was about to step over to the bedroom, she heard the telephone start to ring and she instead trotted across the kitchen to where the device was mounted on the wall. She pressed the button to take the call. “Hello?”
“Bon Bon!” said a familiar voice. “Hey! It’s Lemon Hearts!”
Bon Bon blinked. “Oh, um, hey. Wow. It’s been a while, hasn’t it? Are you looking to talk to Lyra? ‘Cause she’s—”
“No, no, Lyra’s with me. Or, well, she was. She went off ahead to lead the march! She just told me to call you and let you know that she’ll be home late.”
“March?” Bon Bon’s eyes narrowed. “What march?”
As Lemon Hearts told her the details, Bon Bon’s eyes grew wider and wider—and when she was done, Bon Bon swore under her breath.
“How could you let this happen?” Bon Bon demanded. “Lemon Hearts...”
“What? Oh, are you mad that we didn’t invite you? ‘Cause you’re totally welcome to come! They’re heading down to Carat Park in Calibray, and—”
“Okay, thanks!” Bon Bon replied quickly, cutting her off. “Gotta go!” Before Lemon Hearts could reply, she pressed the button to hang up. And then Bon Bon turned to the door.
The sun hung low over the horizon, leaving the sky awash in warm pink and orange hues. Below, a raucous crowd had gathered in the park. Ponies of all ages and races stood all around, all staring intently at a raised platform at one end, flanked by a copse of trees.
“And you know what? I’ve had enough. You’ve had enough. We’ve all just had enough of this!” The green unicorn atop the platform spoke firmly through her megaphone to the sprawling crowd before her, eyes drifting from pony to pony. “We can’t just—”
“Lyra!” shouted a familiar voice. The mint-green unicorn leaned forward and looked down from her quite literal bully pulpit, across the sea of ponies.
“Bon Bon!” Lyra gasped, seeing the distinctive bobbing blue-and-pink mane of her marefriend at the other end of the field, rapidly approaching. The other mare was forcing her way through the crowd, quickly coming up to the front. “What in the hay are you doing here?”
The crowd grew quiet, speaking only in hushed tones as they waited for the other pony’s reply.
“I’ve come to ask you to stop!” Bon Bon cried. She stood her ground in the front row as she stared up to her marefriend, even as a pegasus stallion who stood next to her—with a small pink filly perched atop his back—shot her a dirty look. “This has gone far enough, honey! Why can’t you see this is nonsense? Princess Luna is real, and she’s back! You’re being ridiculous!”
Lyra scoffed, flicking her tail in annoyance. “Ridiculous? Ponies, is this ridiculous?” she called into the megaphone.
The ponies before her stomped their hooves thunderously on the ground, and in chorus replied, “No!”
“Darn straight it isn’t!” Lyra exclaimed, raising a hoof into the air. “We’re exposing the real truth, and showing ponies what’s really going on! I thought I was the only one who remembered, and you made me feel foolish for it—but no, I am not the only one! And we cannot live in fear with our knowledge any longer!”
Below, Bon Bon just gaped up at Lyra... and Lyra went on.
“We can’t let the ponies in power control what we think and what we’re allowed to know! I’ve respected Princess Celestia since I was born, I really have—but this really is a step too far. I don’t know what her motivations are for trying to inaugurate an impostor of her sister, who passed away more than a decade ago, but they aren’t right. Heck, Celestia could even be an impostor herself!”
“Preach!” shouted one voice from the crowd.
“Tell it!” called another.
“And it’s not just this!” Lyra continued, her voice growing louder and more emotional. “All afternoon I’ve heard stories from ponies all over the city of different ways in which the so-called ‘truth’ we’ve been fed in schools and in the news isn’t quite what it seems—different ways the ponies from the top have manipulated us! Did you know that the Monopoly Mare used to have a monocle?! Or that the Marenstain Mares books used to be spelled with an E?! The world is changing right beneath our very muzzles, and unless we do something about it, the high and mighty will hold this power unto eternity!”
As the crowd around her stomped and cheered, Bon Bon finally just groaned. She leaned up against the front of the stage, and weakly she stretched her hooves out towards her marefriend. “Lyra,” the mare finally said, a look of worry across her face. “I... I don’t understand. This isn’t the you I know at all... and you’re really, really scaring me. Please... isn’t there anything I can do to get you to see the truth? Just come down from there, and come home, and we can... talk all this out tomorrow, I don’t know...”
Suddenly, up above the crowd, something miraculous happened: the sky began to grow dark. And as the ponies below stared upwards, they could see it was not clouds. It was not a zeppelin. And it certainly wasn’t a giant tarp being dropped on them from above. No, the sun was sinking down, towards the horizon, before disappearing entirely—swallowed into nothingness.
And in its place came the glowing white orb of the moon, the contours of massive craters distinctly visible even from so far away. Yet... something was different. While previously, in every other night in living memory, the craters had formed the shape of an equine bust, in that moment the circles were much smaller, and scattered randomly in no discernible pattern.
And beside the moon—yet closer, in the sky above them—was the silhouette of a large, equine form, wings spread out as the pony followed the moon’s upward trajectory. At the top of this pony’s head sparkled the recogniseable glow of magic, the same ethereal glow that encircled the moon.
Below, the crowd had fallen completely silent; it was like all of the fervent energy had been sucked out from the park, leaving behind only the wide, curious eyes of the ponies that were glued to the sky. And each pair—and not-quite-pair—of eyes saw exactly what it wanted to see.
Lyra closed her eyes, and took a deep breath before opening them again. And, standing defiantly in the moonlight, she leaned back up to the podium, looking down upon the crowd and on one pony in particular. “No, Bon Bon. I won’t come with you. There’s nothing you can do to change my mind.”
And indeed there was not.
