Consquences of the Rainboom (Letter #3)

Your Majesty, I’ve read your reply again and again, trying to find comfort in your certainty... in the promise that 'Equestria is safe, that harmony endures', that what we see are only tricks of light. But with respect, how can you say that? You wrote that you’ve “consulted Discord” and that we cannot rule him out. I wish that made me feel safer, but it only deepens the unease. If even you must turn to him for counsel, what are we facing? And if it truly were his doing, would it feel like this? Discord’s chaos laughs... this is silence. He breaks patterns with noise, not stillness. The world doesn’t twist...it hesitates... The rain falls without being wet. Shadows hum faintly when nopony moves. The air feels hollow, as if it’s listening. You tell us to rest, to trust, to have faith in balance… but faith feels like the only thing still moving. You said harmony bends when viewed from the wrong angle. I thought of the Rainboom when I read that—of how the light shouldn’t have split the way it did. I don’t think it bent, Your Majesty. It felt like it broke. For a heartbeat, even the sky forgot how to be whole. Sometimes I wonder if that’s where we are now—somewhere inside that moment, still waiting for the light to remember how to fit together again. Maybe that’s foolish. Maybe I’m only seeing what I expect to see. Maybe that’s what we’re living in now! the space between those colors. A world caught inside the prism, where every reflection shows a different morning. You also wrote that Discord “found the whole situation amusing.” That frightens me most of all. I can almost hear him laughing with us, not at us. What if he isn’t mocking this, but mourning it? What if even he can’t fix what’s been unmade? I’m trying to trust you. I want to. But the seal on your letter was still warm when I opened it, though the courier swore he carried it for two days. The wax smelled faintly of rain. I don’t know what that means, and I’m afraid to guess. If Discord truly knows something, please, make him speak. Don’t wait until harmony bends further or until the colors no longer meet. Because if the Rainboom was a beginning instead of an end… then the light hasn’t stopped breaking. With deepest respect and growing fear, Ambient Waves