//------------------------------//
// False Dawn 
// Story: Penumbra 
// by Deep Pond 
//------------------------------//

	“All right, Spike! Up and at 'em!” called Twilight Sparkle. “We don't want to be late to Pinkie's party, and we still have to go over the pre-party checklist. But first: the pre-party checklist checklist, to make sure we make the pre-party checklist correctly!”
Soft snores were the only reply.
“Come on, Spike!” the purple unicorn insisted, magically nudging his basket. When that produced no effect, a magenta glow appeared around the baby dragon's blanket and it was snatched away.
“Aw, Twilight!” complained Spike, trying to hide under his own tail. “I need my sleep! Besides, it's not even light out yet.”
“Yes it is, silly,” Twilight replied, glancing at her magical clock. “It's ten minutes to eight, and my almanac says Princess Celestia was planning to raise the sun at seven thirty-five sharp. Now get up; we have so much to do!”
“Then why is it still dark out?” Spike demanded, glancing out the window,
“It's not –” Twilight stopped. The window did seem oddly dim for the time of day. Curious, she opened the door to her library-treehouse and trotted out. After several silent moments, Spike ambled out after her, rubbing his eyes and muttering something about inconsiderate unicorns.
He found Twilight standing stock-still and staring up at the sky with an expression of disbelief on her face. The sky was gray and opaque, looking like thick thunderclouds or a bank of mist . . . except that the gray fog stretched from horizon to horizon, and seemed close enough to touch. Neither sun nor moon was visible, and the entire landscape was bathed in an unsettling, dim gray light. It was like the half-light of dusk . . . or the sky before a violent thunderstorm.
“What kind of clouds are those?” Spike asked, eyes wide. “And why would the pegasus ponies do this?”
“I don't know,” Twilight said. “I've never seen clouds like this before. I've never read about clouds like this before!”
“W-what do you think it means?” quavered Spike.
“I don't know, but we'd better find out. Come on!”





The town center of Ponyville was crowded with mares and stallions of every description, all chattering nervously about the strange cloud cover. Twilight pushed carefully through the herd, Spike on her back, as the Mayor appeared at the podium before the circular town hall.
“Citizens of Ponyville,” she began as the muttering died down. “No doubt you are all wondering about this strange cloud that covers our fair town. First, let me assure you that the pegasus ponies did not cause this. The scheduled weather for today was clear and breezy, with a light shower towards evening.”
More muttering, but the Mayor cleared her throat ostentatiously and continued. “However, all will soon be clear! I have asked Rainbow Dash, the winner of the Best Young Fliers competition, to investigate the matter.”
At that, Rainbow Dash stepped onto the stage besides the Mayor, smiling confidently, a set of goggles strapped to her head. “Don't worry, everypony,” she called to the assembled crowd, “whatever this is, Rainbow Dash is on the job!”
She set the goggles in place over her eyes, winked at Twilight, and shot skyward in a blue-and-rainbow blur. The ponies leaned their heads back, watching as Dash flew higher and higher, as if she intended to punch straight through the strange cloud-cover and see what was on the other side.
Minutes ticked by. The tiny figure in the sky, barely visible now in the weird half-light, had stopped shrinking with distance; Twilight guessed that she had reached the cloud and was investigating it. She had seen her friend clear the sky in ten seconds flat and perform the near-legendary sonic rainboom – twice. Surely she could handle some weird cloud.
Abruptly, the tiny figure of Rainbow Dash was growing as she sped groundward once more. Within seconds she touched down before the stage. Even at a distance, Twilight could see that her friend was rattled.
“I don't know what that stuff is, but it's like no cloud I ever saw before,” Dash said before anyone could question her.
“What do you mean, Dash?” Twilight called. The other ponies stared in silence, but Dash's gaze fixed on Twilight, and the unicorn was astonished to realize that her pegasus friend was . . . scared.
Scared of a cloud? Rainbow Dash scared of a cloud?
“It was . . . all cold,” Dash continued. “I mean, I've dealt with snow-clouds before. But this just . . . felt wrong. It made me feel cold all the way through just to get near it.” She shuddered visibly.
“Anyway, I tried to buck a hole in it.” She glanced around at the crowd, as if only now becoming aware of them. “All of you pegasus ponies know that if you kick a cloud hard enough, it just comes apart. Goes right to pieces. Well, this . . . stuff didn't do that. It was like kicking those cotton candy clouds that Discord made. It wasn't sticky, but it wouldn't come apart. I tried for a while, but I couldn't bust a hole in it.”
The crowd's muttering intensified, and the Mayor seemed to be at a loss for words. 
“Twilight!” called a familiar voice, and an orange earth pony in a large brown hat came galloping up. The crowd of ponies parted to let her pass.
“Applejack! What's wrong?”
Applejack stopped before Twilight, sides heaving. “There's . . . trouble,” she panted. “Back past the farm.” She glanced around at the other ponies; even the Mayor was watching intently. “Someone's coming, and it ain't nopony Ah ever seen before.”
“What do you mean?” Twilight demanded, puzzled.
“Ah mean an army, gol durn it!” the country pony burst out. “Ah was in the east field when Ah seen 'em coming. There's a bunch o' those bird people, like Gilda, all flyin' around out there.”
“Griffins?” Twilight said, almost to herself. “But why would griffins –“
“That ain't all,” Applejack continued. “Ah couldn't rightly tell what they were, but there's a bunch of critters on the ground, too. They ain't ponies, that's all Ah can say. And there's lots of 'em.”
“How many is 'lots?'” Twilight asked sharply. Applejack looked annoyed.
“Ah don't know, a whole big bunch! Why are y'all wastin' time with mathematics? What are we gonna do?”
This was too much for the crowd of ponies, who all began talking at once. A few ran off, apparently panicked, while others turned to the Mayor, demanding a solution or offering advice. Several surrounded Applejack, shouting questions, but the farm pony retorted “Ah done told you all Ah know!” at the top of her lungs.
“Ponies, ponies, please!” came the voice of the Mayor over the clamor. “Calm down, everypony! Let's have some order!” She glared at the crowd, the expression odd on her normally pleasant face. “Now then, while Applejack's news is . . . surprising, there is no reason to assume the worst. The griffins have not caused any trouble for Equestria in over three hundred years, and we don't even know who the other individuals are.”
“But what are we going to do?” shouted Carrot Top from somewhere in the middle of the crowd. The Mayor waved a hoof calmingly.
“I propose that we form a small delegation to make contact with these . . . unexpected visitors,” the Mayor responded. “If they are friendly, we can simply find out why they are there and how we can help. If not, we can deal with that situation when we know more.”





“Are you sure about this?” Trixie asked mentally.
Relax, replied the shard soothingly. You have the prowess, and I, the knowledge. Now we also have our army.
Trixie glanced slowly about. Diamond dogs were everywhere, hundreds of them, ambling about, setting up their peculiar camps, digging shallow holes, and generally doing whatever it was that they did. She did not see the handful of vest-wearing dogs who seemed to be their leaders.
Above them, griffins swarmed the sky: the entire Red Feather legion, King Aquila's personal fighting force. Though fewer in number – only four hundred, all told – the griffins were certainly a cut above the fractious dogs, and both groups knew it. The griffins regarded the dogs with undisguised contempt, while the dogs made every effort to avoid the griffins entirely. 
And there were the other creatures, out of sight for now, which she was keeping careful mental track of. She was still not entirely comfortable with them, but with what the shard had taught her, she was having no difficulty controlling them.
It was impressive, true. It would certainly make those arrogant Ponyville foals take notice of the Great and Powerful Trixie. Nevertheless, in the back of her mind was the thought that Blue Flame would not be particularly pleased with what she had accomplished.
“I'm still not thrilled with having an army at all,” Trixie continued.
Oh? replied the shard quickly. Have you forgotten what happened last time you came to this town? Have you forgotten the mockery, the humiliation, the degradation?
Trixie frowned, remembering her magic show, the Ponyville ponies heckling her. She remembered the name-calling and insults, the derisive laughter at her best and most impressive efforts. Yet . . . something seemed wrong about the memories . . . she couldn't think clearly . . .
We have grown, you and I, the shard continued, but we are still only two. If we are to be taken seriously, if we are to receive the respect that is our due, we must command that respect. We must not let the vulgar and the ignorant decide our fate;we must choose to be the masters!
“I suppose you're right,” Trixie said, pushing away the unsettling memories.
Of course. If you find yourself faltering, remember how you were mistreated. Spare no pity for those who shamed you. And you escaped with the lighter punishment; for my trouble, I was nearly destroyed by that infernal unicorn, Twilight Sparkle.
Twilight Sparkle . . . again, the name conjured strange feelings in Trixie's heart: a mixture of awe and resentment, and a strange, gnawing hunger. She shook her head in irritation, dispelling the thoughts.





“Ah don't like it,” Applejack muttered to herself as she lead the small band of ponies northwestwards. It had been decided to send fourteen ponies to investigate the strangers – the Mayor, Applejack herself, and twelve others. This, it was hoped, would show that Ponyville did not want a fight, but that they were to be taken seriously. At Twilight's suggestion, two of the envoys were swift-flying pegasus ponies, four were earth ponies, and the remaining six were unicorns - “Just in case,” as she had put it.
Applejack glanced back at the entourage – she recognized two of the unicorns, Lemon Tart and Colgate, as well as the earth pony Clover and Dizzy Twister, a quick-winged pegasus pony, but she didn't know any of the others. Their little group was just big enough to be unwieldy, and – she had an uneasy feeling – to small to be very effective should the horse apples hit the magic fan.
Her shoulders twitching nervously, she lead the Mayor and the rest past the last clumps of apple trees to the top of a small rise. Ahead, a landscape of tough grass and scattered rocks met their gaze, the land being too poor to be worth the effort of the farmer ponies. The barren terrain stretched away to the horizon – said horizon being much closer and eerier than usual. The unnatural cloud cover curved visibly until it touched the ground some miles away, forming an immense dome that enclosed Ponyville and the surrounding farms.
That wasn't what held the ponies' attention, though.
Encamped on the barren plain, just inside the wall of cloud, was an army.
Applejack squinted, able to make out dozens of winged shapes circling above an enormous encampment of . . . what were they? They weren't ponies, not with that hunched, bipedal gait. There was something familiar about that walk, something she had seen before . . . .
She went cold. “Di'mond dogs,” she said.
“I beg your pardon, my dear?” inquired the Mayor.
“They're di'mond dogs. Those big dog critters that live out in the Badlands. They foalnapped Rarity once.”
Everypony stood quiet for a moment, regarding the dog camp. There were hundreds of them, maybe thousands, and it was then that Applejack realized that there were also scores of griffins circling overhead. The sheer number of dogs had make the griffins seem fewer than they were.
“Well!” said the Mayor briskly. “Just because there are hundreds of those 'diamond dogs' camped out there –”
“And griffins,” Applejack added.
“And, as you say, griffins,” the Mayor went on with some annoyance, “that's no reason to assume the worst. Let's go offer them our greetings!”
As they moved towards the dog camp, a small contingent of dogs broke off from the main crowd and began moving towards them. Not just dogs, Applejack saw after a moment: there seemed to be a few griffins as well, restraining themselves to walking. They advanced at a steady pace, meeting the Ponyvillians a few hundred yards away from the main encampment.
The Mayor came to a halt, the other ponies forming a half-circle around her. Facing them were eight large, hulking diamond dogs, most wearing metal helmets, but one clad in a gem-studded collar and a dark red vest. Four griffins stared arrogantly at the ponies, and seemed to be keeping some distance from the dogs. And leading them all was . . . a pony?
Who is she? wondered Applejack. It was a unicorn mare, with a dusky-blue coat and dull, blue-gray mane and tail. She wore a black breastplate strapped across her chest and an ornate helmet protected her head. Delicate-looking horseshoes completed her ensemble, but what made her seem so odd was her stature. She stood a head taller than any of the Ponyville ponies, on long, slender legs. Why does she seem so familiar?
The mare regarded them coldly out of magenta eyes and waited in silence. After an awkward moment, the Mayor stepped forward with a broad smile. “Greetings, strangers!” she said brightly. “Welcome to Ponyville; I am the Mayor, and these are my friends and fellow citizens.” She named each member of the little band in turn. The strange mare continued her stony silence, so after a moment the Mayor continued.
“We could not help but notice your . . . gathering, and so we have come to discover your intentions, and offer what assistance we can.”





Trixie watched as the Ponyville ponies approached. She recognized the leader: the Mayor, a self-important little idiot with a vastly inflated idea of herself. The others she did not know: a collection of small-town yokels, now smirking with artificial importance due to their being included in this welcome wagon. Trixie's head hurt, and her vision seemed to blur every now and then, but she shoved her discomfort aside. The show, she thought grimly, must go on. The shard, now grown even larger, was a comforting presence on her chest.
“Welcome to Ponyville,” the Mayor was saying, a noticeable sneer in her voice. She named each of her rag-tag followers, beginning with the orange pony in the ridiculous hat – the only one, Trixie noted, who didn't wear an expression of smug superiority. There was something extremely familiar about her, but when she tried to think of it, Trixie's head hurt even more. She pushed the matter aside and concentrated on the Mayor's insipid words.
“We could not help but notice your . . . gathering,” the Mayor went on, voice dripping with disdain, “so we have come to discover your intentions – ” why was she suddenly so accusatory? – “and offer what assistance we can.” – the last said with biting sarcasm.
So. It was as the shard had said: Trixie had returned in triumph at the head of an army, and still she was greeted with mockery and spite. Very well; let these Ponyville foals see who they were dealing with.
“We are Fallax Equa,” she declared, one hoof raised dramatically. “We are the Queen of Dogs and the Mistress of Griffins, and we hold command of magicks greater than you have ever imagined! We have chosen to grace your town with our presence, and we require lodgings befitting our status!”





Applejack stared in surprise as the strange pony made her bizarre speech. Fallax Equa? Who the hay was that? The Mayor seemed at a loss for words, while behind her, the other ponies muttered to one another. Applejack's green eyes narrowed. There was something about that pony . . . what was it?!
And then it hit her.
“Trixie?” she blurted out in total shock. “What the hay are you doin'?”
“Trixie?” The Mayor turned to regard Applejack, who nodded.
“Beggin' your pardon Mayor, but yes. Remember that, uh, magician pony who came through town a few months back? About the time of the, uh . . . Ursa Minor incident?”
The Mayor turned back to Trixie – how did she change so much? –  with a bemused expression on her face. “Didn't she turn out to be a fake? Trixie, what are you doing back here? Is this all some sort of prank?”





The orange pony – Applejack – was still staring at her, and something in her eyes made Trixie very uneasy. She knew she had seen her before, no doubt as one of the hecklers on her last, ill-fated visit to this backwater town.
And Applejack suddenly remembered as well. “Trixie?” she said in  disbelieving tone. “What the hay are you doin'?”
Trixie did not respond, her thoughts in a whirl, her headache suddenly doubling in intensity. Damn that pony, she thought, and briefly wondered why. She missed whatever Applejack said to the Mayor – lies, no doubt – and then the Mayor turned back to her.
“Didn't she turn out to be a fraud?” the earth pony said, a vicious light in her eye. “Trixie, why did you come back? Is this all some sort of stupid prank?” Behind the Mayor, the other ponies glared evilly, cruel smirks on their faces.
It was too much. It was too much. After all she had been through, all she had accomplished, and still she was met with mockery and disdain.
A red haze clouded Trixie's vision.
NO MORE!





Applejack watched closely as Trixie – this new, odd-looking Trixie – flinched back from the Mayor's words as if they had been cruel insults. That was strange – the Mayor had been fairly tactless, but surely . . .
Trixie's magenta eyes closed and her whole body shuddered. Then they opened again, but instead of magenta, they were a venomous turquoise in color.
Applejack's blood ran cold.
“NO MORE!” shrieked Trixie, rearing up on her hind legs. Turquoise-green light flared around Trixie's horn, and with an ear-shattering crack of thunder, lighting speared down from the sky and struck the Mayor. The tan pony thrashed helpless in a spasm, collapsing as another bolt struck her, and another, and still another.
“Everypony run!” bellowed Applejack, and launched herself at Trixie. The Mayor was probably already dead, but if there was even half a chance she wasn't . . .
Pain ripped through her body as a lightning bolt caught her in mid-leap. Applejack crashed to the ground, trying to make her legs obey her. She was dimly aware of the diamond dogs and griffins surging towards the other ponies, of lightning striking the pegasus ponies out of the air, of the sickly smell of charred flesh close by. 
Hooves crunched on stone near Applejack's head, audible over the sounds of battle and equine screams. Flopping like a landed trout, she caught sight of Trixie – Fallax Equa – standing over her. She gritted her teeth, expecting death.
“Oh, no, Applejack,” the turquoise-eyed nightmare said softly. “I have something else in mind for you.”
Then the world exploded in pain, and darkness closed over her.