The Church of the Half Moon

A Burned World

Patterns of change become mundane with each year that passes. Pixie was around eleven now, at first his lack of energy took time to become the new formal. Words fell out of his ears like spilled milk, and his eyes had trouble staying open. The body had a way of adapting, and even he found familiarity with it. He was able to catch on to one of his mother's lessons. How they all would have a promise week, to lead up to a promise day. The first part was with your mom, then you spent the rest of the time with your dad, until the moon was split exactly into two. The few that were able obtain their cutie marks would be there on promise day. The hoof full of children who were able to follow in their hoof steps, by having a cutie mark would embark on a life long journey in their parents' image. It was common for their cutie marks to be shared with their parents, this was a way in making the process run smoother. Some ponies don't get their cutie marks; their fate is tied elsewhere. Promise week would still be a good introduction on what their duties might be. It isn't rare to see faces in more than one job here. Besides the council, that was forever.

Then there were ponies like Pixie. The journey they had to take was a long one. So promise week was stretched out for the entire journey to the mines. Very little work would be done by everypony during that week. So it was expected to over exert yourself until then, with few exceptions. It wasn't all bad, most foals caught the infection of excitement, spreading it to the adults. The small group of colts and fillies lined up in rows, in front of those glimmering silver gates Mama… left Pixie alone, and without her shadow, there was a cannon between him and his peers. This time Papa was there, slumping low towards the group as he looked on forward. Staying close under him, Pixie pressed his head on the side of his leg. The old horse let out a half laugh, as he ruffled the Colt's hair through a familiar brown hat. Pixie raided the closest and found a brown cattle hat, that was at least 3 sizes too big.

Loud sounds of metal pressing on metal caught every pony’s attention. Some even skipped from the suddenness of it. The gate flew open. Magic was like lights in the mist, as a group of guards walked back into the gate. Giving the go ahead, Picpick waved every pony in, and finally the group started to take off into the old world. They were rushed forwards until a sudden stop when every pony was finally out of the village. There were rules still, even out here. The young ones weren't allowed to go very far, but it stopped none of their eyes from wandering.

Sand covered everything, with the thickest layer of dust covering the ground. It buried structures, the broken, and tainted. The trees would not bare leaves, but their roots covered areas of land only torn by wind. The ground stayed uninterrupted by stone walls. Pixie turned around fully, as the sky surrounded them, stretching its palm over them like a blanket of snow. Yet when he turned to see those gates close, the town glistened like fresh water, fading into the world. Sparklers lingered for a minute like fading fireworks until nothing; but the never ending landscape. He knew the world would be big here, but they were merely specs of dandelion fluff in a canvas of gold.

“Where did it go?” Pixie thought out loud,

“it's still there,” Silver answered ,“you can hear them,”

Pixie's ears tilted towards the empty area. Papa was right, he could hear the soft chattering and the belles of the wind chimes from here. His eyes scanned once again, unknowingly trying to catch details he felt he glossed over. Yet however many times his brain told him he was being deceived, his eyes couldn't find the clues to it. Then his ears pivoted back when a feminine voice was raised to the crowd.

“There are dangers here, the very world may not be in flames but it's still burning. Stay close to your fathers and mothers, and Listen to our instructions.

“You may see things that are unsettling, let it be a reminder of what would happen without the moon’s graces. Don't be alarmed, simply hold your head high and continue on.

“As you teeter on adulthood, you shall be treated as one. We'll show you the few areas you'll hopefully never see again, the rocking hills, the pile, and so on, we'll also show you where you might grow up to become, the mines, and the duty of protection of the moon and your home. Once reaching adulthood you are allowed to roam this territory unless you are with child. There is little reason for you to venture off to begin with. So get it out of your system when you're of age.

“Any question?”

Many small hooves raised up, as she started to pick and choose who would get their voices answered. Once Picpuck was satisfied, everypony took off, into the deep blue skies and the sand your hooves sank into. There were some buildings, old, walls broken in and glass shattered. The grown ups never let them get too close to them. Life stopped here, there were no flowers, only withered flower boxes in empty towns. Pixie pictured ponies, ghosts, walking through besides them. Yet it only made the pony feel lost… As the faded imaginative imagery too burned like a picture.

When the sun ate all things, she only left the scourged shadows of before. He thought that was more metaphorical, but once seeing the outlines of ponies from before… he knew it wasn't. Then there were bones, pony bones bleached white. Some big, some small. Left there, alone, clothes concave on their structures, if they haven't rotten away. A part of Pixie wondered why the church left them there, but the more he saw the more he realized how unrealistic that thought was. The closest destination they went to was the rocking hill. It was more of a cliff. Very little hills there, a jagged rock with a marble structure on top, perched like a hawk. Picpuck explained that they called that the nest, and that it's a sad day when you have to go there. They passed by over old bridges, and old camps made out of wagons. Pixie sat on top of silver's back, watching as the group made their way to their first check point.

A heavy sigh of relief came from both the adults and the foals. Ponies stacked their heavy tools by a large building as they rushed inside. Some ponies stayed out, including Picpuck. Pixie slipped off of his father's back into the dirt. Papa tried to pull the foal into the building but Pixie pleaded to stay.

“Stay in sight, okay?” Papa said,

Pixie nodded. He saw his sister, looking off into the distance, getting lost in the darkening colors of the sky. Walking up to her, he climbed on what looked to be was a wall, but it was short and stout, yet wide enough his body could fit on the slab of rock. Sitting down he stared up at her, watching how the ruffles in her shirt breezed through the wind, and her jewelry dazzled with reflections of the area inside them.

“Are you interested in being a part of the council?” Picpuck asked,

“That means I can't like any pony right, Ma’am?”

“Well, you can't marry anyone,”

“No, I want to love somepony, like Mama loves Monotone,”

That name, Picpuck shot the younger one a glance.

“...is that bad?”

“No. It's not,” she settled herself resting her hooves on the half wall, “Mother never loved Monotone,”

“No, she's very clear about that, she definitely loves Monotone,”

“How would that make sense, two mares can't love each other, besides that, Genesis only loves her own self loafing,”

“...oh,” Pixie tried not to show his tender heart,

Picpuck realized, “... Sensitive topic,”

“It always is, everypony is always talking about that mare, and it's confusing! Am I supposed to hate her? Or was she good? I know she's dead, but no pony is giving me answers,” he said, his voice squeaked, “I -I’m sorry, I'm so sorry!”

“Don't be.” Picpuck said, “Keep that spirit to you.”

Pixie nodded… letting the silence blow the air between them.

“...She was good, like a mother to me, her siblings, my own, she cherished the living. She was over most days. She had a soft, stern voice, but she was a fool. She trusted Fae,”

“How is she a fool for trusted-ing Mama?”

“Your face is a treasure Pixie, and showing it outside of your immediate family, is a sin worse than blasphemy. Yet when you're Monotone your bleeding heart sees every pony as family.”

“So she showed her face?”

“To Fae yes, but her love for the town folk went outside of that.”

“...where did she go?”

“Fae found she wasn't the only one Monotone favored. So she told the ones who could punish her for it. They took her up to the nest, she was found guilty, and then and there, she died.”

“...she died? She went back to the cycle?”

“...that would have been a mercy wouldn’t it?”

“...I don't know.”

“You know how the Moon doesn't make us choose to love her, Pixie?”

“Mhm…”

“Well, once we choose to love her, we must follow the rules set by the past. No matter what. Even if the good suffer for it. So you'll say that she's bad, but know she was nothing but,”

“Like a lie?”

“Wiser than that Pixie Dust,”

She got him there. Pixie took the large hat off of his head, huddling it close to his chest. Picpuck looked so focused, like she was reading a good book, but an ear was pointed towards him.

“Do you hate me?” Pixie muttered,

“No,” Picpuck ripped herself away from the sky, to look on to the little pony,

“...is that a lie?”

“Nope,”

“Why do we not talk?”

Picpuck thought, “we never had a reason to,”

“Do you believe in Selene?”

“I do,”

“Was that a lie?”

“wiser than that.”

Pixie looked down, drawing circles in the stone slap he sat on. His sister lifted herself up onto the wall, sitting down next to the colt. She was tall, skinny. She smelled like fresh flowers, but the fake ones you'd get in bottles. It was quiet, yes, he could listen to the wind making waves into the sand like an ocean, and the distant sound of crickets. Yet he could hear her breathing, soft, yet congested. He gripped his father's hat closer to his chest.

“Do you have reason to talk to me now?”

His sister surveyed the area, to then let herself slump down. Brushing the loose curls back, she untied the ribbon holding her mane back. Blowing, she whistled, collecting her thoughts on a final decision.

“... I can try to find one,” she said,

Pixie nodded… he didn't want to know if that was a lie or not. Picpuck enjoyed silence more than speaking. Any other questions Pixie asked, she only returned different pitches of hums to him. Everypony settled into the empty wasteland of the scorched Equestria. It didn't seem too bad to Pixie, empty, and lonely, yes. Yet it didn't burn to the touch, yet he rather be fast asleep in his own bed, than the cots given to each of the family units. At least they had curtains for Papa, so he could sleep with his fur out in the open. He still snored… loudly.