The Trinity of Moons: Ancillary Mirrors

I expected a transition. It does not happen — or if it does, I don't recall it. I don't know what either would imply. I am not supposed to experience the transition itself.

That much I remember, at least.

The senses come to me slowly, one after another while I float in the foggy, reasonless surety that it all will be alright. But, with each passing beat, I can feel the world as it comes into focus.

I feel warm and relaxed at a self-made campfire in the hilly, moonlit surroundings. The wind carries the scents: sagebrush and licorice, feather grass and juniper. A river flows to my left — I hear gentle babbling of water on the rocks, a soft splash of a fish. A bright blue tent stands nearby. I have been traveling, it seems. My magnetic sense stays calm — the polar direction clearly defined, no storms, no active electronics or electrical power supplies around. It is peaceful there.

At the same time other memories slowly come from within me, or I recall them. It is hard to know which of the two is more true. One after another, they surface.

Poppy, I remember. She was a gardener, stubborn and silent. One of myselves who died, I think: poisoned in the wilderness. In a sense, it was her who recognized the smells and let me get the general sense of where I am — great plains nearby, likely arid climate.

Bittercup, l remember too. The one who loved roleplaying games, was intense, insisting, relentless, and had too many romantic interests for her life.

Roadtrip. The one who aimed to cross the whole world with our trio. We moved to the next life before our yacht arrived at Polar Haven. He, an explorer, got together soft sounds of the river so I could understand them.

The most recent among us all, born under Rose Moon, I am… I am still Lure. I wished for an adventure. I went down into the enormous facility into the bowels of Metropolis. I met Dartline.

Now, as I sit here at an unknown camp in the wilderness, I feel mildly surprised. This is not what I waited for going underground. I don’t know what I was expecting though. I never considered it in any details — the travel to enter the elevator was too frantic, urgent, demanding. No time to breathe out and think about it.

I thought that maybe I will watch a really immersive movie, or listen to some stories. I was told there will be dragons.

Where am I? When am I?

The latter question gets its answer soon. “Bittercup,” a filly calls me from where the plains lie. “Ya awake? Did ya hear them lightnings? Two strikes, and both real strong.”

“Yep, here, and no, I heard no thunder. But maybe they got me awake?” I stand up, stretch and turn to her. I see — and at once I remember from the farthest end of my lives — Quartz: a white earth pony, with gray mane and a slab of crystal stone on her flank. She looks at me back, her head tilted. Is something wrong already? Wheels in my head turn. “Just had a bad dream, Quartz. Come, sit down.”

She comes, and I exhale: the name fits. I haven’t messed this up at least.

“A really bad dream,” I shudder. “Look, I know how it sounds, but… look at me. Am I all right? Anything weird with me?”

She looks at me first, just as I asked, then looks at me again with her classic wordless don’t leave me hangin’, dingus. Half-ready to laugh, half-angry, her deep brown eyes sparkle, reflecting the campfire. I lose myself in them. “You're alright," she judges, "Just the same Bittercup who done got me worried. You wanna 'splain?”

I try the standard test which we do on each other each time we return, “Do you remember the game with Spike? When you were a warrior and I asked you to sacrifice yourself? The night of Moonrise?”

“Nah,” she looks at me. “Hol’ up, no spoilers! That there’s a good game, I tell ya, and if you peek at Spike’s notes, I– hold on.” She narrows her eyes “I was jokin’ but it looks like ya really peeked at Spike’s notes. That’s right weird. You wouldn’t do that.”

I facehoof, then put my other hoof to her mouth, “How long ago did we begin it?”

“A couple months ago. You hit yer head, right?”

She said a couple months. Not lusters. My heart sinks a little, both with fear and with the ‘maybe we can still save the world’-iness.

“Where did Stylus go, and when will the sun rise?” I don’t stress the second question at all.

“He's down by the river, stargazin', and whenever Princess Celestia wakes up. I reckon it could be a few hours yet. Why you askin'?"

“Just a thought. I’ll tell you something cool in the morning, once I've had a chance to really think it through, I promise. Not sure if the joke works out yet. And about Spike’s game… could you maybe forget I slipped up? Please? I didn’t peek, honest, but this is complicated…”

She frowns, “Mighty shifty of ya, Bit.”

I can hear that myself. I simply nod, embarrassed. “Look, let it all be til the morning. To pile up weird requests — what’s one more for the tomorrow talk? — can you lead me to Stylus? I just want to see if he's alright.”

Thankfully, she just nods, and doesn’t press on.

As we trot to the river, I feel like I have to be mortified to the core but instead I am excited. This is a timeline right after the very first one — so distant I barely remember it. I will see the true sun as it once had been, observe the blend of tech and magic in Equestria untainted by the Red. And of course dragons, and other creatures roaming free on the land and in the sky are waiting for me too.

We find Stylus and join him in stargazing. I stretch, looking deep into the sky. Even the stars are different: no fast moving traces crossing through all the sky, only the gorgeous, bright, stationary constellations, and a single white moon. Not a Moon, without any magic color — just Luna’s moon. No need to check in advance where the nearest vault is.

In the morning I will have some answering to do. But that’s an issue for the next cycle me. I begin to fall asleep again after a few small exchanges with Stylus: calm and attentive, a little locked down into himself as in this life – I remember – he always was.

Buckle up, Bittercup, I tell myself, smiling. I think it is still midsummer here. We should still have a few lusters– months– before the sun dies. We should have plenty of time to warn Princesses about the Red. We can then go on a proper adventure.

No dreams come to me on this short summer night.