A light rapping on the suite door alerted Light Shine that his guests had arrived at the prescribed time. He ran through his mental checklist to ensure that everything was set in its place: the radio was tuned to the correct station, and an appropriate amount of chairs was set around it in the living room. He glanced over at the serving table, noting that the nuts, berries, crackers, cheese, and vegetables were all properly arrayed neatly in their designated areas. Yes, everything was ready.

Trotting over to the door, the thought of Coral Shelf turning down his invitation pained his conscience. While true that he was not the only officer to turn down his invitation, Coral’s insistence that his refusal stemmed only from his prior obligation to attend a local thestral rally for today’s event sat poorly with Light; he could not shake the feeling that his first officer was evading interaction with him. Still, perhaps at the conclusion of the day, Coral would be more amicable to making amends.

Enthusiastically pulling the door open, Light greeted his guests. “Ah, welcome! Glad you all could join me this evening!”

Of those officers whom Light invited, two responded favorably. The first, Alderberry—the officer on duty during the thestral incident aboard the Cloudsdale—stepped forward to offer a quick salute. “Sir.”

Light smirked and shook his head. He would let the offending use of the honorific in a casual setting slide this time. While being outside proper protocol, he knew that the junior officer’s use of the salute out of uniform clearly was a lighthearted jab at Light’s discomfort for “unnecessary saluting”. Alderberry returned a knowing smile, confirming Light’s assumption, and the emerald-colored pegasus stallion walked past the commodore into the suite.

“‘Ello, Commodore Shiney! Awfully nice of thou t’ invite us oop ‘ere!” A burly, sky blue earth pony mare playfully, and gently, pushed on Light’s shoulder.

Light returned the gesture with a pat on the mare’s own shoulder. “Wonderful to see you outside the engine room, Dainty.” Serving as the Cloudsdale’s chief engineer, Dainty Hammer lacked much of the social graces that the commodore possessed, but she more than made up for it with her chipper demeanor and ever-present determination to keep the Cloudsdale in pristine condition. The stocky mare thudded by Light, her plodding further indicating her lack of social graces.

“Wher’s t’ snap—Ooo!”

Light huffed in amusement; Dainty had clearly noticed the snack bar. Turning his attention to his next guest, Light extended a hoof. “Page! I am delighted that you were able to accept my invitation.”

The white stallion accepted the hoof, shaking it briefly. “Yeah, thanks for inviting me.” He walked in. “Wish I could be there in Manehattan to hear her in person, but this’ll do.” He followed Dainty’s lead, approaching the snack bar for some treats.

Inviting Page certainly was a controversial one. Not that Page himself was controversial; instead, Light choosing to invite the journalist begged the question to any uninitiated outside observer—it reeked of social manipulation for influence. On the contrary, the intention behind inviting Page was actually more out of a desire for company, than self-serving interest. Well… mostly. He did hope that by bringing Page into his abode, interacting with close friends, and experiencing the stallion in a casual setting would help the journalist see that Light was not a “bad pony.”

The final guest stood stoically in the hallway, maintaining a steady eye upon Light. Returning the gaze, Light Shine cocked his head slightly. “Mister Seas. I see you found my invitation.”

“Indeed I did, Mister Shine. And I saw that you still remembered my address.” Stormy’s eyes remained locked with Light’s. Tension saturated the air as the two friends silently stared at one another, as if to dare the other to break the silence or eye contact first. Pride was on the line. For one to cave before the other would be to admit fault or err. Neither could budge, neither could—

A twitch agitated his eye, and Light blinked.

“Ha!” Stormy blurted. “Victory is mine!”

Light blinked several more times and wagged head before rubbing his eyes. Too many late nights had clearly left him bereft of proper energy and willpower. “Perhaps this time! You know I won the last round!” He moved forward to embrace his friend.

Stormy accepted the embrace with one of his own, and replied in a low tone. “Only because I let you.”

Light Shine scoffed, withdrawing from the embrace. “If you say so.” Light gestured for his friend to enter. “Welcome in, friend.”

Stormy accepted the invite with a nod, and walked in. Closing the door behind him, Light followed Stormy back into his living space, before halting the dark pony in the hallway. “Stormy, I do hope that our little… disagreement has not dampened our friendship. While I still have my reservations about—“ He stopped himself. “Never mind.”

“Of course. I apologize if I came off a little coarse,” Stormy offered in return.

“Right then!” Light nodded. “Let us settle in and hear what the Princess has to say, yes?”

Stormy chuckled. “I’m going to get you to use a contraction one day, mark my words. But yes.”

The two resumed entering the living room. Dainty busied herself eating a plate full of delectables, while Alderberry stood before the living room window, taking in the sight of the city and Page sat quietly in one of the chairs. Light glanced up at his wall clock as Stormy grabbed a few snacks and joined the rest: just over five minutes before the speech.

Perhaps one of the most pivotal moments in all of Equestria’s recent history now approached its zenith—either the three primary tribes of ponydom would accept thestrals as a formally recognized equal, or the status quo would continue. For his own part, Light Shine never quite understood quibbling over the status of thestrals within Equestria—thestrals generally appeared to prefer solitude (from what he saw) and no pony treated them with disrespect.

Lost in thought now, Light blankly stared into the ether—by his own logic, then, what did it matter that the referendum was presented? If all it did was formally recognize the thestrals as the “fourth tribe”, then nothing would change. A shiver washed over his body. He still could not shake the sinking feeling that something was off about the whole affair. He twitched his head to shake the thought—it was just… the changing of the times, no? That surely was the reason for his concern: just resistance to change.

“Ey up, sir!” Dainty’s boisterous voice called out. “Wha’ ye gawping a’?”

Light broke from his train of thought, looked over at the chipper mare, then out at the evening sky, and chuckled. “I am admiring the brilliance of the pale moon!”

“Don’ play me fer a daft mare!” She stuffed a large bite into her mouth. “I know ye are deep in though’—spill it, aye?”

Light Shine let out an amused sigh. “I deeply appreciate your interest, but—“ He looked up at the clock again “—the hour is upon us! All I shall say at the moment is that I hope the referendum tonight proves to be a boon to Equestria.” He moved to turn the sound dial on the radio.

”Of course it will!” Stormy said. “I for one can’t wait to welcome the new era of four official tribes!”

“Yeah! Formal equality for everypony, finally!” Page chipped in.

Light turned the volume up, and the sound of staticy music filled the room. Glancing over at Alderberry, he noticed the emerald pegasus quietly waiting in his seat, a cordial half-smile pressed upon his muzzle, taking in the idle chatter between everypony else.

Satisfied with the volume, Light nodded to himself and took up a standing station next to Alderberry. “You are a rather silent one, tonight.”

Alderberry looked up at his commanding officer, then bobbed his head. “Don’t really have much to say. One of those ‘did my part, not much to do’ moments.”

”Is there something that bothers you?” Light queried.

”Nah,” Alderberry shook his head, “not that so much as I just hope things in Baltimare work out more than anything. Referendum’s nice and all, but it’ll just be a beginning. I hope.”

That was understandable. A vote and royal decree certainly held their own merits, but, in the end, individual ponies were the ones that really mattered. Though again, Light simply did not see how much would change—thestrals were not mistreated, nor were they really discriminated against—he shook the thought again. Just let the events play out.

A crackle of static followed by a simple jingle cut the music short, and a mare spoke, her voice clipped and clear: “Good evening, mares and gentlestallions. We welcome you to a special broadcast straight from Manehattan where Princess Luna will be addressing Equestria tonight on the referendum for thestral representation. While we wait for the Princess to address the nation about…”

Light furrowed his brow. No matter how many times he heard arguments or statements from members of the pre-Referendum faction, he still could not quite bring himself to an understanding of why it needed to be enacted this way. Throughout it all, Princess Celestia remained silent about the manner; for Light, this meant that the issue was not nearly as dire as many made it out to be. If real discrimination against thestrals was present, then surely she would step in and address it, no? He cast his gaze out the window at the moon; it was bright, and appeared larger than usual. Even still, he wondered if his discomfort with the referendum stemmed from something… worse. He never cared for the night—despite the many late evenings spent throughout his career. His name, Light Shine, stood so opposed to the darkness of the night and even his cutie mark—that of a bright sun with an inlaid wreath—starkly contrasted the muted glow of the moon, no matter how bright the latter shined. He just felt… uncomfortable with the dark.

And thestrals are natively nocturnal. He winced. Consciously, he held no animosity toward any thestral. Despite the fallout between himself and Coral Shelf, he considered themselves friends. Yet despite his active efforts to cordially treat thestrals as he would any other pony, he still felt an instinctual, almost primitive, wariness toward them as a whole. It was not fair to them—was it?

Light returned his attention to the radio, focusing only for a brief moment to mentally note that the radio host was still speaking, before returning to his thoughts once more.

Yes, the thestrals reportedly all rose up in rebellion when Nightmare Moon first appeared a thousand years ago. Yes, they nearly did again almost eight years ago when she returned. Yes, many now exiled themselves in faraway Chiropterra. Yes, many of them still chose a life of solitude and separation from the rest of ponydom. Light took in a deep breath then let it out. Now Equestria considered a sudden referendum to artificially integrate through legislation what one thousand years of peaceful co-existence had failed to accomplish.

“…the Princess has taken to the stage. Mares and gentlestallions, Luna.” The mare host ended her speaking, and a soft hiss filled the void and Light abandoned his errant thoughts to return his attention to the broadcast.

All present in the room fixated upon the radio, each silently suspended in eager interest to hear the message Luna wished to deliver to crowds both seen and unseen.

“As Princess of the Night, I protect and nurture the dreams of Equestria,” Luna’s practiced and regal voice cracked through the static of the transmission. “Standing before you, I realize now how gravely I have misunderstood that role. For what use is a dream if we do not strive to make it real?”

“Tomorrow we vote on laws, on ideas, on decrees,” she continued, her voice slowly rising with passioned intensity. “I do not know what will happen, but I do know that far more important than any change of law is the change in our hearts.

“What use is a law if it is ignored? What use is a smile that is forced? What use is a peace founded on exclusion?”

Light frowned. That was not the Equestria he knew and loved. During times like these he wished his talent worked with indirect communication, but alas, it had yet to trigger during radio broadcasts, letters, or phone conversations. He needed the speaker physically present for it to work.

“I once asked you what had happened to Equestrian friendship.” Light squinted his eyes and furrowed his brow in disbelief. This was Princess Luna? How could she be so blind to the plethora of pony friendship all around her?

“It stands before me. This cause has brought us together, and formed friendships that will transform our nation, and make our dreams possible!” Luna’s voice continued elevating with the rising energy and fervor of the crowd’s cheering piping over the radio. “No vote, no law can change what we have created here tonight!”

A wild cheer erupted from the crowd. Light maintained his furrow, mentally scoffing at the Princess’ words. He felt a tinge of awkwardness for disagreeing with royalty, but Luna clearly—

The mental image of Nightmare Moon flashed in his mind space. His expression turned to terrified realization. Could it be? Is that why she made these nonsensical claims of exclusion and a lack of friendship? He subtly shook his head and tossed the thought aside, aghast that he even entertained the notion.

“Tonight, I make a promise. On this night, in the city that never sleeps, I will make the dreams you have entrusted to me a reality! The first of many dreams becomes real tonight! A dream of friendship! Of a great wrong righted! Of night and day made whole again!”

The cheers of the crowd continued, and Light resigned to the notion that despite the flawed arguments and rather twisted portrayal of reality, this was the direction Equestria appeared to be drifting towards. From his little entourage of friends gathered, he knew Stormy was elated by the speech, and Page appeared rather pleased by it as well. Dainty and Alderberry seemed to receive it positively as well, but were clearly far less enthused than their colleagues.

A sudden sharp pop and crackle spat from the radio, followed by panicking screams.

“What in tarnation?” Stormy said, standing up from his chair.

Page also stood up. “What the hay was that?”

“It certainly did not sound… pleasant,” Light commented, “almost like—“

The radio hissed and the radio host’s voice came through. “Mares and gentlestallions, there… there appears to have been some kind of… explosion at the stage! We don’t know what is going on. From what we can see, Princess Luna appears… injured, but fi—“

The radio cracked and the hiss of static filled the room.

“What is going on!?” Page blurted.

Dainty lurched forward at the radio. “Ah, y’ berk radio! I’ll bray ye iffin’ ye don’ star’ chipperin’ again!”

“Dainty!” Light exclaimed, “Hold a moment, I do not think… that…” he trailed off as he noticed the hue of the moonlight within the room shifted to an unnatural color. He slowly approached the grand window, his eyes locked upon the moon.

The others quietly moved over to join him, mimicking the same shocked stare.

“Is… is that…?” Stormy started.

“I think it is,” Alderberry answered the unfinished question.

Before them all, bathing the world around them in deep red, was the herald of anger and fury.

A blood moon.

Author's Note

Luna's words for her speech are taken directly from the events depicted in the Hearts of Iron mod "Equestria at War" as of the published date of this story. I took the liberty of combining the two variants of her speech into one.