//------------------------------// // Chapter 6 // Story: Trixie Lulamoon of the Dreamguard // by Hoopy McGee //------------------------------// If I were to compare the Dreamrealms to any one part of the waking world, the closest I could come would likely be a vast ocean. Though the surface may seem similar at a casual glance, the true mystery lies deeper than the eye can easily see. The Dreamrealms are much more complicated still. In the waking world, distance and time are solid, fixed and measurable. Such is not true in the World of Dreams. With very few exceptions, the different realms will shift and change, moving to pressures and forces I can’t even begin to understand. And, while this typically happens so slowly that a dream-walker’s entire life may pass without noticing a change, it can also happen with a suddenness that will leave a traveler as lost—and no less at risk—as a sailor upon a becalmed sea. On the Dreamrealms, A Study by Lucid Dreamer, revised translated edition, 127 A.F. Trixie yawned hugely at the breakfast table. She really should have slept the previous night. Still, it had been a productive evening. Puka had really concentrated on dream wards, showing her so many variations and improvements over what she’d already learned that Trixie had felt almost overwhelmed at first. Beside her, Smidgen ate her breakfast, interjecting the occasional comment or quip in between mouthfuls of fruit-laden oatmeal. Trixie let it all wash over her as she toyed with her own food. After a while, she realized that Smidgen had stopped talking. She glanced over to see her diminutive friend looking up at her with a questioning look. It took her a moment to rewind the conversation in her mind to figure out what it was that Smidgen had asked. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Maybe we can head into town tomorrow? Only, I’m kind of tired, and I was going to read and maybe take a nap.” Smidgen sighed and flashed a doleful smile before leaving without another word. Trixie blinked, worried that she might have upset her friend. She pushed aside her breakfast. It didn’t taste right, and she wasn’t very hungry anyway. ~~*~~ It had taken a while—days at least, Trixie was sure—before the lines of aether were clear before her eyes. Thin silver strands, all woven together in a complex pattern arcing in a dome over her head. And, though she couldn’t see through the Draumweyr’s earth beneath her, she knew the pattern continued underground, enclosing her entirely in a bubble of dream-stuff. “Very good,” Puka said, looking over Trixie’s ward. “You did well.” “Thank you,” Trixie replied. She frowned, casting a critical eye over the glittering threads above her. “This isn’t very large, though.” “It’s large enough,” Puka replied. She zipped upwards in a flash of blue in order to get a closer look. “See here?” Trixie concentrated for a moment. Her hooves lifted off from the soil of Draumweyr as she floated through the still, stale air. Gravity was more of a habit than reality when it came to dreams. It seemed so obvious to her now that she had a hard time believing that she’d ever struggled with the concept. “Yes,” Trixie replied as she drifted towards the junction that Puka was showing her. “You said that you’d explain what this was for. This isn’t part of the wards Princess Luna had taught me.” “Luna didn’t trust you with the more advanced weaves.” Trixie cringed for a moment at the note of disdain in Puka’s voice. “This junction—and the pattern around it—adds an extra layer of defense to the ward, allowing you to maintain the weaving even if the first level is broken.” “So, I can keep the ward up even if it’s attacked,” Trixie concluded. “Nice.” “Indeed.” Puka floated back down towards the ground. Trixie frowned, looking after her. Something seemed… off. “Is something wrong?” Puka asked, looking up at her with wide, blue eyes. “Sorry, I’m just a little tired. Want to keep going?” ~~*~~ Trixie sat alone, stirring her oatmeal. Across from her sat the indistinct shapes of various guard ponies—not Dreamguard, just the regular guard. They muttered to each other in low voices that Trixie didn’t bother trying to make out. As she avoided eating, Smidgen came up and asked her to head into town to treat themselves to a day at the spa, maybe get a new manecut. Trixie wanted to go. Or, at least, she thought she did, for a short while. Then she sighed. She was so tired, and getting a manecut just seemed so pointless. Ordinarily, that would have been that. Today, though, Smidgen seemed oddly pushy. Insisting that Trixie leave the castle, get out under the sun and enjoy the fresh air. “I can’t remember the last time I saw the sun,” Trixie said, wistful. The sudden silence that greeted her statement startled her. She looked up to see the rigid backs of the guardponies across the dining hall from her and, for a moment, wondered if she’d somehow offended them. Smidgen told her not to worry about it. It wouldn’t matter, once they were outside. Exhaustion weighed her down like a blanket made of lead, but the idea took root in Trixie’s mind. “You know,” she said, the corners of her mouth turning up into smile, “I might like to get out—” ~~*~~ “What was that?” Trixie asked, her eyes wide and her coat standing on edge. “You felt that?” Puka asked, standing next to her. “Very good. You are getting more skilled.” Together, they looked up at the cage of aether over their heads. “Something is probing your wards. Something very powerful, very subtle.” A shiver ran down Trixie’s spine, and her legs were trembling with a desire to run—not in any specific direction, just away. Away from whatever it was that had brushed up against her defenses. Around her, the stillness of Draumweyr seemed to hide a thousand unseen threats. “You are safe,” Puka replied. “You are well. It can not get in.” “What can not get in?” Trixie demanded. Her breaths were sharp, short. Her heart was hammering in her chest as if trying to break free. “What in Tartarus was that?” “When we first met, I told you that you were being hunted.” Trixie stared, wide-eyed, at Puka. “The Gaunt One?” Puka patted her on the shoulder. “Do not worry. I shall now teach you a way to hide the very presence of your wards from others who would walk the Realm of Dreams. It will be as if you draped the entirety of Draumweyr underneath a shadecloak.” Trixie’s terror began to abate, but it still interfered with her training. She wrapped the emotion up and gave it to Puka so she could return to her placid state. ~~*~~ Smidgen had been agitated at breakfast that morning, skipping her own meal to berate Trixie about her lack of attentiveness and her unwillingness to do anything together outside of Dreamguard training. Trixie scowled at that. She’d been working so hard, lately. Day after day, it seemed like exhaustion was seeping further into her bones. “We can hang out more once we’re done training,” Trixie said, voice short and clipped. “I’m making great strides with my weavings, and I’m not willing to stop it now.” Smidgen voiced her disappointment, then declared that Trixie had changed, and that they never talked anymore. “I haven’t changed,” Trixie protested. “Besides, we talk all the time!” She hesitated, thinking. “Don’t we?” Trixie stared at the table, frowning. When was the last time they’d spoken, had a real conversation? Had it been yesterday? Had it even been this week? No, that couldn’t have been right, could it? They were friends. Of course they’d talked. Days and days of long conversations well into the evening, stopping only when it came time to train. But they were tired. All of the cadets, so very tired. Training every night was taking its toll, doubly so for Trixie herself. After all, she had Puka’s training to attend, in addition to Luna’s. She looked up to tell that to Smidgen only to see that she was gone from the table. She’d obviously gone outside— ~~*~~ The new dream ward was several times larger than Trixie’s original effort. It encompassed almost all of Draumweyr in a silvery lattice, shimmering like threads made of starlight. It should have made her happy, but something felt off. After a few moments, Trixie finally realized what it was that was bothering her. “How long have we been doing this?” she asked Puka. The little creature stopped talking. Trixie blushed, realizing that she’d interrupted her mid-lecture. It was almost instinctive for her now to take her embarrassment, wrap it up, and push it towards Puka, who accepted it with the barest ripple of pink across her coat. Once again, her mind was calm, centered. “Doing what?” “Training,” Trixie replied. Puka seemed oddly hesitant to answer. “How long has it felt?” Trixie considered it. “Many days,” she replied. "A long, long time." Then she frowned. “I’m having a hard time remembering any of them, though.” “What do you mean?” She looked up. Something in Puka’s voice had seemed… cautious. Almost wary. “I mean, I don’t remember the last time I spoke to Smidgen,” Trixie said. “I think we spoke at breakfast, but I don’t remember what we talked about. I don’t even remember what I had for breakfast.” “You are focused on training,” Puka reminded her. “Yes. But… it seems to me that I should be able to remember something about this morning. Or yesterday. Or… any day, really.” “Does it matter?” Puka asked. She seemed annoyed, and Trixie immediately wrapped up the shame she felt at causing that annoyance and passed it over to Puka, who accepted it without comment. After that, it seemed best to forget about questions and just focus on the training. ~~*~~ Trixie stopped. Tilted her head. Looked to her side at the breakfast table and noted Smidgen’s absence. When was the last time they’d spoken? Had it been at breakfast? It didn’t seem to matter anymore. Not training, not eating, not even sleeping, though every nerve in her body cried out for rest. Maybe she’d just sit here and wait until Smidgen came back, even though she was so tired it felt like her bones were crumbling inside of her. Color seemed to leech its way out of the world as Trixie slumped on her bench in the dining hall. It didn’t seem worth the effort to do anything, not even hold her head up above the table. Not even feeling resentment towards her friend for leaving her here all alone. Trixie blinked. Wait… hadn’t Smidgen said something about going to the spa? Had it been that morning that she’d said it? Her heart ached, sudden and pinching like it was caught in a vice. She missed her friend, she realized with slowly dawning surprise. She missed talking with her, missed that slow, shy smile that could light up a room. Trixie pushed herself away from the table, staggering to her hooves. A small coal was burning in her, pushing her to go find her friend. All she had to do was leave— ~~*~~ “Another attack?” Trixie asked, feeling the push on her wards. She wasn’t afraid, though. She’d wrapped up her terror and gave it to Puka the moment she’d become aware of it. She didn’t let it interrupt her practice, weaving aether into a pattern that Puka had told her would repulse many of the weaker-minded dream-beasts she might encounter. “Yes,” Puka replied. She let out an annoyed huff. “This one is persistent and clever. I’ll have to show you a new alteration to the ward.” “How will that help?” “Any creature can pick their way through a ward, given enough time. The trick is to alter it in unexpected ways, keep them guessing. Keep them out. It is a simple enough thing.” “Oh, that’s good,” Trixie replied, relieved. “All these interruptions are getting in the way of my training.” ~~*~~ Trixie’s ward was a thing of beauty, now. Etched across the sky in a complicated lattice of aether, glittering strands of silver circling her all around. It bore little resemblance to her original, amateurish wards, having been changed several times by now in order to keep the creature trying to attack her on the outside. Something seemed missing, though. She should be proud of this, and she wasn’t. Instead, where the space her pride should be was just a hollow place inside of her. Even with a working ward beyond anything she would have been able to imagine when she’d gotten started, the end result left her unsatisfied and wanting more. “I think we need to accelerate my training,” she said to Puka. Maybe more intense training would kick her mind back on track. Puka looked around from where she was seated on the ground. Her head came up nearly to Trixie’s shoulder which, for just a moment, seemed a little odd. “Very well,” she said. “I will now teach you weavings to attack, and to defend against attack.” “Are you sure? I was told that those types of weaves were far too advanced…” “Oh?” Puka tilted her head. “Who was the one who told you that?” “I… I can’t recall.” An image of a pony flashed through her mind, a pony dark as night with a star-filled mane. But it was gone a moment later. “Probably another trainee.” “You are far beyond the others now, Trixie,” Puka said. “You are ready for this.” “If you say so,” Trixie said. For just a moment, she wondered what her friend would think of this… Trixie frowned. What was her name again? It was on the tip of her tongue... Puka began to show her the weaves, and Trixie forgot what it was she was trying to remember. ~~*~~ “What’s the point?” Trixie asked, stopping mid-weave. Puka blinked and tilted her head. “I don’t understand?” “Of this?” Trixie said, gesturing with a hoof towards the eerie stillness of Draumweyr. “Of training. Nothing seems to matter anymore.” She sighed. “I just want to stop.” Something like terror seemed to come over Puka’s face. “Trixie, you can’t stop! You wanted to be the best! Don’t you still want that?” Trixie grunted. “I did. I really did want to be the best, but I honestly have no idea why anymore, and I’m so tired.” Puka stepped closer, her ears drooping. “What… what will you do if you quit?” Some vestige of humor welled up within the desolate plains of her emotions. “Maybe sleep for a thousand years.” “You can’t mean that,” Puka said, a note of pleading in her voice. “You’ve merely forgotten why you’re doing this.” “You’re right, I have. I wanted… I wanted to be better than somepony.” Trixie’s face scrunched up. “I can’t remember who, though. I wanted to be the best, though. I wanted… admiration? I think? Or respect, maybe.” She sighed. “Maybe both. I can’t remember. I’m just so tired.” She felt another strike at the wards around her dreams, and she saw the threads of aether bow inwards for just a moment. “That will get in, if you give up,” Puka said. “Do you want that to happen?” “I don’t really care one way or the other,” Trixie said. She frowned. “I should feel sad about that, I think. Or maybe worried. I wonder why I don’t?” Puka floated off, a look of intense concentration on her face. She landed some distance away, her back to Trixie. “I took too much…” One of Trixie’s ears cocked towards her. “What?” Puka turned, a solemn expression on her face. “You don’t want to quit, Trixie.” “I don’t?” “No. You’ve only forgotten the reason why you have tried so hard, for so long.” Puka’s eyes brightened. “Trixie! Take a walk!” Trixie grunted. That seemed like a monumentally pointless idea. “Why?” “You deserve some time to rest, to take a break from your studies.” Puka smiled. “Perhaps you’ll remember your motivation while walking?” When Trixie didn’t respond, tears welled up in Puka’s blue eyes. “Please? I’ve worked so hard to help you. I would hate to have to quit now, when you’re so close to mastering everything I know.” She blinked. Mastery? That thought actually moved something within the dry desert of Trixie’s emotional landscape. For the first time in what felt like years, Trixie felt a spark of interest within her. “Alright,” she said, and moved off into the bushes. It wasn’t her first time exploring Draumweyr, of course. When she’d first started coming here, she’d roamed all over in order to familiarize herself with the place. But the truth was, there was nothing here that was all that interesting. It was just trees, mostly, with the occasional small rock formation. Sometimes there was a small clearing filled with bushes. That, and the ridge of rock that surrounded the entire place like the lip of a bowl. But there was no wildlife. No wind, no rain, no sun or clouds in the sky. It was as if the entire place had been made out of stage props—expertly made, no doubt, but still completely fake nonetheless. It was a wonderful place for privacy, and for practice. Not quite so good for tourism or nature walks, though. Just what in the world was she supposed to discover in a place like this? Irritation crept in, tainting Trixie’s placid calm. Instinctively, she tried to wrap the emotion up, but there was no Puka nearby to give it to. She ended up holding the irritation awkwardly in her mind, like one might hold a bag with questionable contents that a stranger had thrust upon them with no explanation. “Puka?” Trixie called, still holding onto her unwanted irritation—which seemed to be growing at an alarming rate, she now noticed. “Puka, where are you?” No answer, of course. Well, except for another sharp push against her wards. And, for the first time in what felt like ages, it occurred to Trixie that maybe she should be worried about what, exactly, was trying to break in. “Puka?” she called out, now balancing barely-familiar fear alongside her unwanted irritation. “Where are you?” Still no answer. Just the stillness of Draumweyr around her. Trixie clenched her teeth and set off into the undergrowth once again, pushing the branches out of the way with her magic—which worked great, until one of them slipped loose and sprung back to slap her a stinging blow across the muzzle. “Augh, dammit!” Trixie rubbed a fetlock against her muzzle, trying to massage the pain away. “This is insane!” “Hello?” a voice called from nearby, causing Trixie to jump. “Is somepony there?” Trixie froze. It wasn’t Puka’s voice, she knew that much. She wasn’t sure whose voice it was, though it did sound aggravatingly familiar. “I know you’re out there,” the owner of the voice said in a condescending tone that landed right on Trixie’s nerves. “You’ve been making more noise than a herd of buffalo. Stop hiding like a coward and get out here where I can see you.” “I’m not a coward!” Trixie retorted, feeling the heat of combined embarrassment and irritation rising from her guts. She stomped forward and pushed through the bushes, finally breaking out into a small clearing. There waited a familiar unicorn that brought Trixie’s purpose rushing back in a tidal wave of resentment and frustration. “Oh, it’s you,” Twilight Sparkle said. She scoffed and rolled her eyes. “I should have figured.” “Sparkle!” Trixie very nearly snarled. “How did you get through my wards?” “Oh, were those your wards?” The hated purple unicorn actually tittered at her. “They were cute. I barely noticed them. Is that really the best you can do?” “That’s it!” Trixie lowered her head and braced her forelegs, her horn blazing as she gathered as many threads of aether as she could. Across the clearing from her, Twilight merely quirked an eyebrow at her. “Really?” she said, sounding bored. “I’ll show you!” Trixie snapped back, trying to force the weave into a shape that Puka had taught her, one that would ensnare Twilight and severely limit her ability to complete any weaves of her own. Her legs were shaking with rage even as she did it, and the resulting net she tried to cast over Twilight had holes large enough for a whale to swim through. “Oh, that’s just sad,” Twilight sneered, stepping to one side to let the weave slip right past her. Trixie’s hooves ground into the false earth of Draumweyr. Her thoughts fevered with fury, she was contemplating charging the other unicorn and simply impaling her on her horn when Puka suddenly popped into place next to her. “Trixie! You are too upset to weave properly. Give your emotions to me, and you can defeat her!” The rage Trixie was feeling was the strongest emotion she’d felt in longer than she could remember. For just a moment, her exhaustion faded into the background and the world seemed to tilt in place as she felt a moment of clarity. She looked over at Twilight Sparkle, her rival, her hated enemy. A mare who, for all her faults, had never once used that tone of pure contempt that she was using now. The anger didn’t vanish, but it did mute as cold realization swept over her. It was a feeling almost like when she went from a regular dream to a lucid one, a sense of awareness that brushed the cobwebs away from her mind. “I’ve spent most of my adult life on a stage,” Trixie stated, earning a scoff from Twilight and a confused look from Puka. “I know a bad actor when I see one,” she said to the apparent unicorn, who snickered at her. Trixie ignored her, turning to Puka instead. “Laying it on a little thick, aren’t you?” Puka blinked, her ears lowering. “Puka does not know what Trixie means.” “Don’t bother. My mind is clear for the first time in… I’m not sure how long. This whole time, with you training me… We never left my dream, did we?” The tableau froze. No more snickering contempt from Twilight Sparkle, who just stood nearby like a waxwork figure. No protests or denials from Puka, who simply stared with blue-on-blue eyes into hers. “Why, Puka?” Trixie asked, turning her back on whatever-it-was that was masquerading as Twilight Sparkle. “Why would you do this?” “You wanted training,” Puka replied, her voice barely above a whisper, her tone neutral. “I trained you. I trained you very well.” “And you’ve been taking my emotions. Why?” “They were in the way. They stopped your focus.” Puka drifted into the air, hovering before Trixie’s face. “I needed… You can make more.” Anger flared again. “That’s hardly the point, and you know it! Why take them? What did you need them for?” She floated closer, features blank. Trixie shivered, wondering how she’d ever found the creature to be cute. “There are many different things that provide power in the Dreamrealms. Thought and will, yes, but emotions too. I used the power from your emotions to help craft the place to train your skills.” “No more, Puka. They’re my emotions, and I’m going to keep them.” A ripple of red distorted the blue of Puka’s coat. “I need them!” “And so do I!” Trixie retorted, stomping a hoof. “I want to go, Puka. Let me out of this dream!” “No!” The panic in Puka’s voice was very real, Trixie decided. “Please! I need you to stay!” “Why?” “This is the World of Dreams,” Puka replied, scrubbing her forepaws together in nervous agitation. “I am more real when I am with you. Please, don’t wake! I can make this place a paradise for you, grant your every wish, fulfill your every whim. You will be respected and loved! You will truly be Trixie, the Great and Powerful!” Trixie shook her head. “It would all be fake, though.” “You wouldn’t need to know that. I can make you believe it! Make you forget all of this, and we can go back to the way things were. You will forget, and you will learn, and together we will be the greatest and most powerful there ever could be!” A shiver tingled its way down Trixie’s spine. “No, Puka. I want to go!” For just a moment, it seemed like Puka wavered. Doubt flashed across her features like a ripple across still water, and then it was gone. “You will never leave, Trixie,” Puka replied sadly. “I need you, and you need me. Whether you admit it or not.” Her heart was hammering, fit to burst out of her chest. Her legs were trembling, even as she took a fearful step back. “Agree to stay with me, Trixie,” Puka pleaded. “Stay, be mine, and I’ll be yours in return. We will be greater together than either of us could ever be when apart. Together, we will be powerful!” Trixie glared for a moment before she turned to run off into the forest.