The Rariad
By Tundara
4: Tartarus
None of Trixie’s training prepared her for the maelstrom that met her intrusion. Screaming winds of violent hues tore at her, scouring her essence through her fur and cloak. Tossed about, Trixie had no control as she fell through the tumultuous rapids. Buildings and objects raced past her; a foalhood home with a yapping brown dog, some large split boulder, a sleek schooner with tattered sails, and dresses. So many dresses.
They were joined by a cacophony of unintelligible voices. Some Trixie thought she might recognise, but most were of ponies that held no importance to her. Flashes lit the storm, and the voices turned into buffeting winds.
Trixie reached the bottom with a heavy thud, and rolled down a sharp hill until she struck the roots of a tree. Shaking her head, Trixie pushed herself up. She ached all over despite her body not being real. The roots belonged to a very familiar tree-turned-library. The bitter taste of unpleasant memories flooded Trixie’s mouth. Quickly, she moved away from the tree, looking for the place Rarity kept her memories.
She found herself back in Ponyville, altered and scarred by tragedy. The buildings were tumble-worn and dilapidated, even by Tartarus’ standards. Nothing green remained, the grass an ugly grey that sloughed into dust at the slightest touch, and trees of pallid, sickly yellow devoid of bark or leaves. Over the dead town raged wild clouds and howling winds.
That storm refused to let Trixie advance, growing in savage severity, screaming at her to go away.
Trixie pushed ahead, body lowered to get under the storm. She could see only a few meters in any direction, her progress further hampered by the ground cloying around her hooves like fine sand.
Through the shrieking of Rarity’s broken mind came discordant noise, like the tune of a broken music box playing the same few notes over and over. Shielding her eyes, Trixie peered and saw a dark shape a short distance ahead. Pressing on, Trixie struggled, grunting with the effort of every step until she came into the shadow of Rarity’s shop.
Carousel Boutique had seen far better days. Faded paint and bare weathered wood echoed the desolate nature of Rarity’s psyche. The door hung ascance on bent hinges, and creaked in the wind as it swung unable to be properly latched. In a grimy window flickered the guttering remnants of a candle.
Inside everything was askance. Showroom dummies heaped against the door to the stairs. Mounds of tattered dresses covered the floor, while torn curtains acted as poor veils for the changing room. There was nothing that would indicate a precious memory.
Outside the boutique, Anchor’s laughter crackled like lightning.
Searching the room turned up only scraps of Rarity’s life.
She was about to leave when an oily whisper issued from between a set of ratty, heavy wool drapes. On closer inspection, Trixie could make out the faint outline of a door behind. Edging a little closer, curiosity battled with caution. Instincts screamed at her to leave the door alone, that it was trouble of the worst sort.
Her aura hissed like water on a burning skillet when it touched the doorknob.
Licking her lips, Trixie slowly turned the knob, ready slam the door shut.
At once the door slammed open with a deafening crescendo and Trixie was blown off her hooves, sent tumbling into the middle of the boutique. Shaking her head to clear the numbness left by the door being wrenched out of her aura, Trixie found herself standing in a glowing patch cast from the opening.
A maw of writhing light consumed the doorway, spilling out like the entrails of gutted fish across the floor, and in the center swayed a pony. Trixie could only just make her out, and only by using the corners of her eyes. Seeing her without looking at her.
“Who is there?” Trixie demanded, backing further away.
Entropy. Anarchy. Discord. Chaos. The everlasting flow. She is everything. And nothing. The great distortion at the heart of all things. The thrumming sun of blood-red dreams. The First. The Last. The one from which all others emerged. And submerge. The Screaming Sultan. She is beyond comprehension. She is Yarmalyth.
The voice burrowed into Trixie like a swarm of maggots gnawing at flesh and soul alike. Screaming, she collapsed, hooves clutching at her head. Whatever spoke, its attention was not directed at Trixie.
You are but an echo of a dream. The frayed strands of an errant thought. You are nothing.
Teeth clenched tight enough to crack, Trixie tried to fight against the seething waves of madness every syllable carried. The entity within the doorway took a step closer, out of the light, and for the briefest instant Trixie beheld…
Her mind went blank, the only way to protect her from whatever it was that approached.
And still it spoke, though Trixie was certain that the being had no mouth from which to utter a voice.
She exists in all things. Inside each of you is the tiniest part of Her. Her voice is the first and last thing you hear. Omnipresent through every moment of your pitiable existence. You. All of you. All Life exists because She willed it to be so. Because She proclaimed it to be so.
Fumbling, like a newborn reaching for her mother’s protection, Trixie groped for the door. She had to close it. Had to muffle the voice. Otherwise she was doomed to a fate worse than even Tartarus.
Soon She wakes. And Her dreams end.
She slammed the door shut. The light was snuffed. A dreadful silence claimed the boutique.
Released from the slithering grasp of insanity, Trixie bolted from the boutique. She didn’t stop running until she reached the other side of town. Focused on avoiding thinking about whatever she’d encountered in the boutique, Trixie failed to notice the ponies now milling about town. Or that the storm had abated. It wasn’t until she reached the shade of a white sided tower that she came to a stop.
Heart racing, Trixie collapsed onto her haunches. Sweat cascaded down her back and legs as if she’d just finished a marathon.
When she shut her eyes, across the edges of perception, there remained traces of tainted light. Furiously she tried to scrub away the images of the thing in the boutique. Like rotted wood they sloughed away, but left behind a residue, a mark that would stay with Trixie till the end of days.
How long she remained there, shivering in the sheltering shade, Trixie could barely begin to guess. Time was a strange, ephemeral entity within a mind.
Slow at times, with days contained in the space of a heartbeat.
Moving at a furious pace others, a moment taking hours to pass.
She couldn't linger, wallow in the creeping realization that there was something else in Rarity’s psyche.
Trixie blinked, laughed, and shook her head.
Of course there was something else in here. Rarity had been host to a mad goddess. To think that all vestiges of Serene were expunged was foolish. Sombra warned her to be careful. That Rarity’s mind was shattered. Who knew what other dangers lurked in the fragmented corners where sanity gave way to madness?
Pushing herself up, Trixie attempted to re-orient herself. She found herself next to a long building unlike any she’d ever seen in Equestria. Whitewashed walls topped with red clay formed a courtyard around a single level complex. A covered patio lined the front of the building, stretching around a hook shaped corner. Olive trees, and dry, dusty ground filled the courtyard, centered around a pleasant, clear fountain. In her terrified flight, she’d entered the courtyard and huddled in the narrow gap between the outer wall and main building.
“Is this from Gaea?” Trixie asked herself, as nopony else was present.
Peeking in through an open doorway, carefully lest It lurked in every building, Trixie saw a shallow pool surrounded by mosaic tilework.
From within bubbled the laughter of foals, sending a chill up Trixie’s spine.
With the encounter in the boutique so fresh, Trixie decided better than to explore what had to be some portion of the mad-alicorn Serene.
She left the complex, and only now noticed the ponies moving about the streets.
Drab coated, with heads hanging low, the ponies moved in slow, dragging motions like drudges on their way to work. These were broken things, spirits snuffed out under the weight of horrendous toil. What they were doing in the mind of one of the most dynamic and exuberant ponies in recent memory stymied Trixie.
More interesting, they were all headed in the same direction. Looking up and down the line, Trixie wondered which way to go. Find the source, or where they were headed.
A flash of bright colour stole Trixie’s attention before she could make up her mind. On the other side of the trudging ponies bobbed an amethyst mane in a very familiar coiffe.
Darting through the line, Trixie called out, “Rarity?”
The bobbing mane stopped, and Trixie found herself confronting a very young Rarity in her early teens. Around her neck hung a slender chain with a brass key, the head shaped into a diamond like her mark. The young mare’s brilliant, sapphire eyes flew open, and she backpedaled to get some distance between her and Trixie.
“Who are you? Are you with her? Are you after me--us, too?” Young Rarity squeaked, voice cracking with youth.
“No, Trixie is here to help.” Trixie didn’t advance, and instead tried to appear as non-threatening as possible.
Young Rarity cast a long, sidelong look over Trixie, and then behind her as if expecting a trap.
“Is somepony after you?” Trixie asked. “Somepony in the boutique?”
At the mention of the boutique Young Rarity winced and looked around even more frightened. “Shh! Don’t mention that thing. Rarity--I put it in the boutique to keep us--her, safe. It’s the last, tiny bit of Discord. The bit that made her--us turn on our--her friends. She--we, put it there, cause that's where we--her, were strongest. But, now Rarity--I’m not strong enough to fight it. If it got loose…” Young Rarity shook her head violently.
“So, what are you doing?” Trixie took a few steps closer, then stopped when the young mare grew skittish again.
“I’m looking for her--me--us,” Young Rarity bit her lower lip, and cast a sidelong glance at the line of ponies trudging past like she fully didn’t trust them. “We find each other, sometimes. But always get broken apart by the storm.”
Young Rarity turned away, and began going down a side-street, away from the line of drab, nondescript ponies. As she turned, Trixie caught her first good look at Young Rarity’s cutie mark, a single blue diamond. After spending months and months with the mare, Trixie was well acquainted with the trio of gems that made up Rarity’s mark. Seeing only one on the young mare’s flank gave Trixie an idea.
“Why not let Trixie help you search? We’ll be able to find the other’s faster that way. What do they look like?”
Young Rarity gave Trixie a surprised look, and frowned.
“It doesn’t matter. We find each other all the time. But it isn’t enough. Something else is missing. Maybe you can find what I--we have missed. Maybe… Maybe… Yes, we--I will trust you.” Young Rarity stepped closer to Rarity, almost pressing up against her, and gave her an expectant look.
“Okay,” Trixie took a step back, and Young Rarity followed.
“Where should,” another step, and Young Rarity followed again.
“We look?” Trixie backed up into the wall of the Gaean compound.
Young Rarity shrugged, and sat down like a puppy, head even cocked at a curious tilt.
Sighing, but hopeful she was perhaps on the proper path at last, Trixie signalled with a wave of her hoof for Young Rarity to follow. The gesture was unneeded, Young Rarity skipping along right behind Trixie.
Turning along the endless line of drab, nondescript ponies, Trixie decided to see if she could find where Young Rarity had come from, and perhaps some clue what she needed to do to heal Rarity. Or, at least where the ponies were headed.
It quickly became apparent that the line was perhaps going nowhere. Every so often it would break into two, or three new lines, or merge with another. Endlessly, the drab ponies shuffled. They went past the Book and Branches Library, and in the doorway sat a painted statue of Twilight Sparkle, dead leaves covering her. Similar statues waited outside Sugarcube Corner, Pinkie Pie leaning against the cracked and rotten gingerbread styled building. Or, the run-down cottage owned by Fluttershy, Applejack at a fallow Sweet Apple Acres’ gates, Sweetie Belle and her father waiting in front of their broken down townhome, and finally, Rainbow Dash floating in the middle of the scraps of her cloud-house. It wasn’t until Trixie found herself passing the Gaean complex again that she realised that the drab ponies were simply trapped in a loop visiting the ruins of Rarity’s friends and family.
Young Rarity slowed at the statues, sometimes touching one, or saying a few words to another as if asked a question. At the first statue, Trixie thought it might be a key. The idea was dismissed when there was no reaction to any of her magic or attempts to get a response from the statues. These were simply monuments to Rarity’s connections in life, and held not even a scrap of magic or deeper meaning.
Sighing at the time wasted, Trixie paused in the street to contemplate her next move.
As she gazed along the various lanes, Young Rarity humming next to her, a low rumble sounded in the near distance.
Blanching, Young Rarity yelped, and ducked into Trixie’s shadow. “I--we need to go now. Find a place to hide.”
About to reproach Young Rarity, a shadow fell over them. Glancing up, wondering what was happening now, Trixie beheld a wild, reddish-blue sandstorm materialize at the edge of town. Impressions of ponies locked in battle etched into its roiling edge, the storm bore down on the town with a terrible howl. It rushed through the streets, the lines of drab ponies shattering into clouds of dust that joined the roiling mass.
Cursing, Trixie darted towards the nearest door, and found it locked and boarded shut.
So too was the next door, and the next.
The buildings around her rattled and shook at the approaching fury.
With time for only one more attempt, Trixie darted to the least faded door.
It was a simple, round green door, cut into the side of a brick wall. Over the door hung a sign proclaiming the establishment as the Lost Possibilities Lounge. At her approach, it swung open, as if inviting her to come through. Trixie hesitated, Young Rarity dancing on her hooves right on her tail.
The door in the boutique made Trixie cautious, wondering what sort of evil Rarity had hidden within. What monster lay in wait if they went through the door?
With the storm moments from claiming them, Young Rarity pushed Trixie inside, and into an entirely different world.
A bouncy tune mingled among the smoke from cigars and fine alcohol. Patrons sat at a long oaken topped bar, tended by a Rarity in snappy vest and short, bobbed mane. Martini glasses, and whisky shots hovered in her aura, served to more Rarities sitting on leather benches or at the little tables arrayed before a small stage. Moving between the tables, a couple more Rarities in black, lace stockings and tight girdles, with tails done up like the fluffy bump of a bunny served the patrons watching the singer commanding their attention.
Like everypony else in the room, the band was made up of clones of Rarity, but slightly off. Here one wore a smoking jacket as she strummed a cello in a deep, booming beat. There another with a bowler pulled over her eyes danced her magic along the keys of a pianoforte. Between them a Rarity on back hooves, one of the new brass saxophones held in hooves creating a sharp melody. And before the players, the singer in long dress with mane done up with flowers and peacock feathers.
Trixie had heard rumours of the ‘jazz bars’ of Manehatten and Colton, but never imagined such a place actually existing.
“So, what are you escaping, darling?” asked a sharp, nasally voice behind Trixie, making her jump with a gasp.
Spinning around, Trixie found herself towering over a slender Filly Rarity. She was Rarity in miniature, same spiral tail and mane, same perfectly white coat. Only a blue diamond shaped mane-pin marking a difference. A gap-toothed smile gave her an air of innocence at odds with the sharp intellect of her eyes. Trixie’s skin crawled at the calculating gaze, as if she were a piece of cloth being readied for cutting.
“Come on, either in or out,” Bartender Rarity called with a harsh Manehatten shout. “But stop blocking the way for others.”
“Best not to make her mad, darling,” Filly Rarity said as she slipped around Trixie.
As with Young Rarity, Filly Rarity had but a single gem on her flank. Swishing her tail, Filly Rarity made her way to the bar, and scrambled up into a seat.
“Two Marelanta Sapphires, darling, and don’t skimp on the olives in mine,” Filly Rarity called over to the bartender in a cultured purr before she’d even fully settled. Waving Trixie over, Filly Rarity patted the seat next to her. “Sit over here, and tell me--us what brings you into this troubled mind?”
“Hey, what about me--us?” Young Rarity demanded, sticking out her lower lip.
“Oh, are we--you still here? It seemed more than ample time for you--us to go off wandering the streets like a pathetic ragamuffin, again.”
Young Rarity’s face puffed up at the insult, and she responded by sticking out her tongue before turning her back on her younger version. Sighing, and rolling her eyes, Filly Rarity resumed ignoring her other self, attention back on Trixie.
The lounge rattled as if it had been built beneath a train trestle. The beams showed heavy wear, cracks in their surface, and dust cascaded down every few minutes from the boards overhead.
“Trixie…” Trixie’s voice faded away, unsure what she should do. With the storm back, going outside was pointless. Filly Rarity was, somehow, connected to the Young Rarity. Seeing little point in refusing, Trixie slipped onto the barstool.
“So, Trixie is it?” Filly Rarity gave a sultry hum that set Trixie on edge. “It is very strange to see a new face. All we--I see are other Rarities. This is the most interesting thing to happen since… why, I--we can’t begin to recall.”
Noting the odd way Filly Rarity spoke, exactly like Young Rarity, Trixie replied, “The Great and Powerful Trixie needs to fix her friend’s mind. Her friend is in need.”
“Hmmm… Liar.” The filly snorted the word much as she would spit out a sour seed. “You went and got involved with her--my mama, and she is a very, very, very bad pony. Mother warned time and again that Mama Anchor was a bad influence. It would have been easy for me--us to end up like her. You can see for yourself, Pirate Rarity sits right over there.”
Filly Rarity pointed to a table, where a Rarity in wide brimmed, feathered hat and double-breasted coat sat watching the show, a large, foaming mug in front of her. A black eyepatch covered an eye, around which poked pink scar tissue. In the golden sash about her waist hung a saber, much like the one Anchor had claimed not long ago. An air of menace hung about Pirate Rarity, a dangerous curve to her bawdy laughter.
“I--we could have easily become her, but Fate put us on another path. So much the better. We--I would have hated to become that uncouth, unscrupulous ruffian.” Watching Trixie over her drink, Filly Rarity asked, “Why are you risking everything trying to piece our--my ruined mind back together?”
Trixie bit off a reflexive response. The filly watched her with too keen an eye, as if she could actually see lies like they were black oil contaminating a once pure stream.
Swirling her untouched drink, Trixie decided to use the truth. Lies served no purpose, regardless.
“Trixie is in trouble, and Rarity is the only pony who can save me.” The words tasted a little sour in her mouth, and brought with them the pressing issue of time.
How long had she been in Rarity’s mind?
Too long, if Trixie had to guess.
Filly Rarity huffed, and downed the remainder of her drink in a single gulp. Grinning broadly as her tiny hoof struck the countertop, Filly Rarity said, “A selfish response, but an honest one. I--we can work with that, darling. It isn’t as if we--I have any other options.”
“Oh, you listen to her, but not me--us?” Young Rarity puffed up her cheeks in a foalish frown.
“She isn’t a spoiled brat, deary,” Filly Rarity shot back, briefly acknowledging her counterpart, before again dismissing her with a flick of her mane.
“We need to go to where it all began. Where I--we found our--my purpose.” From outside came a low, hungry growl. Ears perking up, all the Rarities leapt out of their seats, shifting from hoof to hoof.
The music stopped. The crowd disappeared through side-doors, trap-doors, or the folds between curtains.
“Follow me--us,” Filly Rarity jumped down, and gave Trixie a shove. The filly was surprisingly strong, and Trixie stumbled a few steps. Grunting, Filly Rarity drove Trixie towards a small trap door behind the bar. Hardly pausing, the filly flung open the door and pushed Trixie through.
There was a moment of disconcerting spinning light and nausea inducing descent before soft ground was again under Trixie’s hooves. She found herself next to a placid pond in a well tended garden. Beyond the garden’s boundaries loomed a wall of wild, unkempt trees. Shadows between dark trunks and lanky limbs held glowing eyes that promised despair, danger, and derangement. A couple thumps issued behind Trixie as the two Rarities landed on the grass.
The storm was nowhere in sight, the sky clear but for a few drifting white strands.
Several paths led from the gardens, some well kempt, others wild and unruly. There was a brick lane, gravel tracks, and dusty trails to choose from.
“This way, Trixie,” both of the Rarities said at the same time, each at different paths. Young Rarity selected the brick lane, while Filly Rarity was part way down a trail of cedar chips. Both lead towards the thinnest portion of the forest walls, where, just over the treetops, rooves could be seen.
“No, Trixie believes this is the proper way,” Trixie replied, selecting the most unkempt and unused of the trails, one leading into the darkest part of the forest.
She had no reason to select the path other than a suspicion that both Rarities were going to be wrong, and the only commonality was that they wanted to head back towards the town. A town that had yet to be anything more than an empty, twisting maze.
If she was going to find find Rarity’s true self, or the lynchpin of her past, it was going to be in a place unfrequented.
Working on that hope, Trixie marched along the trail at a determined pace. Both Rarities tried to stop her, pleading with her to chose their paths. When it was apparent she had no intention of going down either, both gave up and darted to catch up to her.
The forest quickly grew thicker and thicker. Shapes moved among the shadows just out of reach. The faces of changelings, fangs glintings, the glowing eyes of hungry timberwolves, heavy footfalls and tawny bulk of a chimera circled the small group. Trixie’s nostrils filled with a putrid stench, the source of which remained hidden. Low growls hurried them down the trail. Trixie refused to break into a gallop. Such would only entice monsters to attack.
Monsters were not alone in the fearful forest.
Red foreclosure notices swirled around Trixie’s hooves like autumn leaves. Derision sang from the throats of cruelly smirking birds. Smokey shapes snickered, backs turned to the trio. A heavy, oppressive gloomy weight of judgement pressed down on Trixie. As a stage performer, it was a weight she was accustomed to shrugging, though never fully.
Her gut began to twist. Irrational fear creeping around the edges.
Both Rarities sunk their heads lower and lower, ears pressed flat and their tails dragging through the dirt.
She’d chosen the wrong path. They should turn back, return to the town. That was where Rarity spent the majority of her life. Surely, whatever keystone or bauble represented the core of ‘Rarity’ was somewhere back there.
A patch of light signalled the end of the forest. Or, a glade of sorts. Speeding up a little, Trixie took comfort in leaving the forest behind.
She was almost at a gallop by the time she burst onto a plateau of sorts. Ahead stretched the dark woods, much smaller than Trixie anticipated, and beyond them the town. All laid out like a map. There was a lack of realness, of depth, like Trixie was looking at a painting rather than a true vista.
The rhythmic creaking of wood drew her attention.
On a ledge overlooking the forest sat an old fashioned schoolhouse of the sort found in most every village and town throughout Equestria’s Heartlands. Only, this one was in very poor condition. Peeled red paint revealed boards weathered a pale white underneath. The roof sagged in places, and a few of the boards for the steps were missing.
Sitting in a rocking chair next to the door another Rarity knitted as she gently rocked herself.
With the first two Rarities still close to her, Trixie approached the aged schoolhouse, and called out, “Hello there!”
The Rarity didn’t so much as look up from her work. She had the fully developed lines and curves of an adult, and a single gem just like her younger counterparts.
Adult Rarity hummed, continuing to knit, one hoof idly keeping her rocking. The song was soft, slow, and comforting. Warmth seeped through Trixie, and she settled on the steps below this Rarity. She would not have minded spending days, or weeks, there in the sun, fears lulled by Rarity’s presence alone.
No, she couldn’t be lulled into false security! Trixie bit the tip of her tongue, and the spell was broken.
“Well, if it isn’t Trixie Lulamoon,” Adult Rarity huffed, at last lowering her knitting. “You’re not in the process of luring Ursa Minor and Major here, are you?”
“You remember Trixie?” Trixie yelped, snapping straight like she’d just been caught sneaking into school by a truancy officer.
“Darling, I--we could hardly forget you!” Knitting tossed aside, Adult Rarity leapt to her hooves, anger flashing in her eyes, turning crystal blue a harsh ruby. “You humiliated us--me in front of my--our friends and neighbors. Attempted to ruin our--my reputation! And then you tricked those silly foals into dragging those monsters into town! If not for Twilight, Ursa Major and Minor would have destroyed Ponyville, and killed who knows how many ponies! You should feel so lucky that nopony was hurt, and the arbiters found you faultless because you only told stories, rather than tell those silly foals to bait the Ursas. I--we would have been far less lenient!”
As she ranted, Adult Rarity loomed more and more over Trixie, pressing her up against a railing. Trixie hadn’t felt so small, foolish, and guilty since being a foal under the gaze of her disappointed father. Part of her growled that she had nothing to feel guilty about. It wasn’t her who brought the giant stellar beasts into Ponyville, after all, but those two idiot foals. She’d done nothing wrong! The arbiters had even agreed.
Except, Trixie knew that wasn’t true. She’d gone to Ponyville looking for a fight, and purposefully targeted the Elements of Harmony. Jealousy wormed in her heart, and she needed to bring the supposed heroes down a few pegs. She needed to sate her own bitterness and rejections.
Sighing, Trixie pushed herself up so she was eye to eye with Adult Rarity. “You are right. What I did was wrong. It was petty. Trixie, no, I harmed you, and I am sorry. Can you forgive me?”
Slightly flustered, Adult Rarity glanced away, and grumbled, “I--we wish you had done that years ago. Or, before you left us--me in the hooves of Mama Anchor.”
“You are aware of what has been happening?” Trixie raised a brow.
“Parts, darling, only parts.” Some thought came to Adult Rarity, her ears perking up, and face blanching beneath her white coat. “But, you should not be here! Twilight warned me--us once about how dangerous mind magic could be, and that was just trying to touch another pony’s thoughts. You… You are in our--my mind!”
Rolling her shoulders and lifting her chin in what she hoped was a heroic pose, Trixie laughed, and proclaimed, “But of course. This is nothing for the Great and Powerful Trixie! Illusions are just a form of mind-magic.”
“Then, maybe you can solve it,” Adult Rarity hummed, her gaze taking an appraising light, as if she were inspecting one of her dresses.
Blinking at the sudden shifts in attitude, Trixie repeated, “It?”
“We--I have been trying to solve it for months,” Filly Rarity snapped, jumping up next to Trixie on the schoolhouse porch. “There is no answer! The Elements have abandoned me--us.”
“Must we fight again?” Young Rarity entreated her other selves, making a calming gesture with one hoof.
“Trixie is a proper wizard, darling, and has travelled all over Equestria. Surely she must have some understanding we--I lack. At the least it is worth the attempt. What do I--we have to lose?”
Growing a little exasperated at being talked about, rather than included, Trixie stamped a hoof. “What are you talking about?”
“The Elements left something behind,” Young Rarity played with her mane, ignoring her counterparts much as they ignored her. “It is in there,” she indicated the door into the schoolhouse.
Ears perking up at the mention of the Elements of Harmony, Trixie at last felt close to answers. Stepping between the arguing Rarities, Trixie pushed her way into the schoolhouse.
Rather than desks, blackboards, and the smell of chalk mingling with the musk of old books, Trixie found herself in an ancient hall. One half was grand and ruined. Dark basalt columns covered in vines held aloft a vaulted night. Stars twinkled softly in the velvet tapestry, and Trixie could swear they were watching her. On the other side stood colonnades of white marble gilded in gold. Brilliant sunlight spilled between their wide gaps, revealing rolling green hills and distant white mountains. A fresh, spring breeze trickled Trixie’s nose.
Between the two halves was an odd contraption. At first Trixie assumed it to be some sort of astrolabe. Hoofball sized stone orbs held on thin poles were arrayed around a much larger, central orb. Grooves in the base allowed the outer orbs to be moved, though for what purpose alluded Trixie. Moss, lichens, and thick dirt covered much of the device.
Faint magic trickled through the air, growing and then fading in steady beats.
Behind her, the three Rarities entered the hall. Filly Rarity and Adult Rarity still bickered and snapped at each other, while Young Rarity slunk off around the outer edge.
Doing her best to ignore the arguing, Trixie circled the device slowly, inspecting every facet of it. The outer orbs all carried faint etchings similar to cutie marks; crossed thunderbolts, two joined hearts, a star-headed wand, a circle, and a crown. The last orb was bare.
“Okay, Trixie, clearly these are… something. Probably the Elements? But the marks are all wrong.” Trixie tapped her chin in thought. Turning to Young Rarity, she asked, “What do you know about this device?”
Young Rarity started to speak, but Filly Rarity snapped, “Oh, darling, don’t bother asking her--me anything. She--I knows nothing about the Elements of Harmony. They were after my--her time.”
Deciding that the Rarities would be as much trouble as help, Trixie focused on using her own judgement. She inspected the orbs, and room, again, ending up right back where she started. Along the outer walls and columns, a variety of other cutie marks could be just be made out. Dozens of them, ranging from the magical, martial, and mundane in nature.
“One of these must be the Element of Generosity,” Trixie mused as she wandered the other direction. “But, how does that help me fix Rarity?”
Having spent most of the last year with Rarity, Trixie could draw the mare’s mark in her sleep. The triple diamond design was rather plain, all things considered. Trixie found it half-hidden by a thick beard of vines, with enlarged version around the device itself. She glanced a couple times between the device, with its spinnable orbs, Rarity’s mark on the wall, and to the diamonds on the ground.
“No. It can’t be this easy. Can it?” Trixie sighed. Returning to the astrolabe, she looked closer at the marks on the orbs. “So… If my class on ‘Ancient Puzzle Devices and How To Solve Them’ is correct, then I’m going to have to align you with your counterparts from the current Elements of Harmony. How did that prophecy go? ‘Something something, the sixth will reveal itself?’ Well, that makes you the Element of Magic,” Trixie tapped the empty orb, “and the last one to position.”
“I--we think you are doing this wrong,” Young Rarity said, making Trixie jump. She hadn’t noticed Young Rarity approach. Poking the astrolabe, she sighed, “This thing has never worked.”
“Yes, well, you didn’t have the Great and Powerful Trixie to help you, did you?”
Young Rarity shook her head, and looked forlornly over to her still squabbling counterparts.
“No, we--I didn’t.”
Nodding at her own reasoning, Trixie returned her attention to the astrolabe.
She needed to remember the order of the Elements in the prophecy, figure out which orb corresponded, and then align them with the marks on the wall. All while under a strict time constraint. Trixie wasn’t certain how much fast time was moving in Rarity’s mind compared to the real world, but it wasn’t enough for her to dawdle any longer.
“Okay, time to amaze,” she muttered, loosening her shoulders and jogging on the spot as if getting ready for a race, rather than sorting through a logic and memory puzzle. “You just need to remember your history lessons about the original Elements of Harmony. There was… uh… Truth? Valour? Oh, sod it!”
Trixie knew the current bearers marks, found them on the walls, and worked through the possible combinations in sequence. There was only a hundred and twenty odd possible variations. This number fell further when she aligned the star-headed wand with the balloons, and both began to glow a soft blue. A rumble filled the chamber, and outside the storm intensified.
“It is like a foal designed this puzzle,” Trixie groaned to herself, grabbing the next orb and slowly swinging it around the room. When it failed to glow, she took the next, repeating the process until all but the last orb was illuminated, and the storm raged stronger than the fiercest hurricanes.
At last the final orb locked into place, and a deep chime sounded throughout the temple.
The Element of Generosity pulsed with a heartbeat. Slow at first, and then faster and faster.
Ceasing their arguments, Filly and Adult Rarity looked over, slack jawed as power thrummed through the astrolabe. Hope filled their eyes, and they stumbled as if in a daze towards Trixie and Young Rarity.
Gentle winds rustled dry leaves.
Sparks coursed around the orbs.
And then the energies died. The astrolabe quiet again. Silent.
Outside the temple thunder rumbled, and the reddish-blue storm clouds gathered.
“Another failure!” Filly Rarity screeched, tugging at her mane. “Why can’t I--we be fixed!?”
“Maybe if you didn’t act like a child, we--I could be healed,” sniffed Adult Rarity.
“Come on you two, the storm is coming! And it is angier than ever,” Young Rarity pranced on the spot, eyes darting this way and that in terror. “I--we need to find shelter.”
Trixie was silent, contemplating the astrolabe. The order had been correct, and a reaction caused, but it wasn’t enough. Something else was still missing. Some critical aspect eluded her.
“This is it,” moaned Young Rarity, curling up on herself. “The last storm. Our--my time is up.”
The temple shook as the storm bore down on them. Cracks formed in the columns, and the ground heaved. Crying out, the Rarities clutched at each other, and for an instant they seemed to blur together before popping apart.
Striking a hoof to her head, Trixie exclaimed, “Of course! How could Trixie be so stupid! This is a puzzle for you three! You need to solve it together!”
“Together?” The Rarities exclaimed, and blurred again.
Certain she was on the right course now, and with time running out, Trixie gave the diamonds from Rarity’s mark etched into the ground a quick look to figure out their orientation. Each of the diamonds on the Rarities flanks were slightly offset, as if, together, they formed Rarity’s full mark. Pushing each to the diamond in the temple that corresponded to the one on their flanks, Trixie said, “You three need to activate the device.”
“But—-”
Trixie yelled, “Just work together!”
The Rarities glanced at each other, and Trixie was certain that they were about to argue again, or run away.
“What have we--I to lose?” Young Rarity said at last.
“Lose? Oh, only my--our dignity,” scoffed Adult Rarity. “All you--we do is try to please. We--you are like a lost puppy. There is nothing to you--us! We--you mimic, acting all sweet and saccharine, trying so hard to be inoffensive, but you--we are afraid and shallow.”
Rolling her eyes, Filly Rarity stamped her hoof to a sardonic laugh. “We--you’re one to talk, darling,” she sneered at her eldest counterpart. “You--we care nothing for others, only for my--yourself! Element of Generosity? Ha! What a cruel joke Faust played. Generous only when you--I can get something out of it, more like. Otherwise I--you hold grudges. You--we manipulate and worm through society, driving off competition, or latching onto to the powerful or important like a lamprey. Have we--you forgotten about your--our attempts to woo a prince?”
Adult Rarity’s nostrils flared at the accusations of her youngest self. She trembled with barely suppressed emotion, jaw tense as steel and eyes flashing.
“At least we--I don’t flit about like some aimless foal from moment to moment! What goals, what dreams flit through my--our heart? We--you are nothing but a backbiting little gossip, caring for nothing but the moment! The art. The passion. The faux accent! Darling this, darling that! Everypony can see through you--us! We--I am nothing but a laughing stock.”
“Please!” Young Rarity whined, trying again to get between her younger and older versions. “The storm is getting closer.”
“What? Are you--we still here?” Adult Rarity gave an overly dramatic gasp.
“Enough!” Trixie roared. “This fighting is getting you nowhere! Trixie has heard of ponies who argued with themselves, but this is stupid. Do you want to die?”
The three Rarities shook their heads after a momentary hesitation. Taking hold of their short silence, Trixie thrust a hoof and the terrible storm.
“You must do something, now! All of you together!”
Apprehension dominated Filly and Adult Rarity, while Young Rarity clapped her hooves.
“Fine!” Adult Rarity growled, breaking first to stomp over to the closest diamond etched into the ground. “Well?” she demanded of her younger selves. “Are we--I going to do this, or not?”
Skipping to her spot, Young Rarity let out a chipper, “Yay! I--we knew Trixie was the right pony to follow.”
All long series of grumbles, snorts, and exasperated whines came from Filly Rarity before, beneath Trixie stern glare, she too found her spot around the central device. “Okay, now what?”
Trixie stabbed a hoof at the astrolabe, “Solve the stupid easy puzzle already. What else?” She was mostly certain the puzzle didn't actually matter, what did was getting the Rarities to work together. And if it did matter, well, then it was also being 'solved'.
The Rarities all pinched their faces as if they’d eaten a lemon. They darted looks at each other, crinkled their noses, and then gave a solemn nod. Almost upon the temple, the storm roared with inarticulate fury. Bowing their heads, the Rarity’s charged magic into their horns, and directed the beams at the astrolabe.
The ancient device shook, and started to spin. Sparks of rainbow aether fell from the orbs as they locked in place one by one. A gentle hum grew as the orbs fell in place.
On their markers, the Rarities faded even as their marks took their proper form.
Overhead, the storm plunged towards the temple. Bits of the roof began to collapse, and was sucked up into the storm’s growing maw. Moments from the temple being devoured, the final orb fell into place, and the trio of Rarities vanished.
And then a massive pillar of luminous silver-edged blue light burst from the astrolabe. Trixie was knocked off her hooves, and cast from the temple. She shouted, tried to grab onto a root or stone, but was flung back into the maelstrom. Around her a soft lullaby soothed the furious tempest, as below Trixie colour filled the town of Ponyville, buildings shining bright as if they were new.
Hoping she’d succeeded, and unable to fight the currents carrying her, Trixie returned to the waking world.
The first thing Trixie saw when her eyes cracked open was Anchor’s crazed visage, the mare pressing her to the floor as she yelled, spittle flying from her mouth.
“What have you done to my Ritty? What trick are you playing?” Anchor yelled, and struck a blow that knocked Trixie’s head sharply to the side.
Trixie had no idea how long she’d been in Rarity’s mind. A minute? Two? More? Less? It didn’t matter. How ever long it had been, it’d been enough time for Anchor to knock her bloody. Trixie ached all over, and her left leg had been carved open, spectral flesh pulled back to prevent it from healing as glowing plasma oozed from the wound.
“Cap, look,” several of the crowd cried out at the same time, hooves pointing towards Rarity.
Growling for her crew to hold their tongues, Anchor twisted around, Trixie quickly forgotten.
Rarity sat there, blinking as if coming out of a daydream. Slowly, she gazed around the warehouse, eyes flitting over most of those present, lingering a little on Trixie before stopping at reaching Anchor.
“Mama?” The single word came from Rarity in a sharp gasp.
Trixie knew what would come next. The questions, the denials, and then… Well, she couldn’t see any tearful reunions. Not when Anchor had quite clearly lost the last shreds of sanity.
“Rarity,” Trixie tried to call, only to be silenced by a backhooved slap.
Hissing through her teeth, Anchor said, “Stay silent.”
Genuinely afraid, Trixie could barely respond. She was close to the True Death, her spirit cut, beaten, and bludgeoned to its limits. Trembling and spent, she watched as Anchor approached Rarity, wondering if she’d made the right choice in saving Rarity, rather than abandoning the mare months ago.
Rarity attempted to push herself up, only for her legs to give out with a crystalline creak. She gazed at her hooves in shock and wonder, eyes widening as rainbow hued veins began to shine through her fur.
As if to focus on anything else, Rarity shifted her focus back to Anchor. “Mama, what have you done! You could have killed…”
Momentary confusion flitted through Rarity. There was an instant, frozen as if drifting on the wings of a snowflake, as Rarity understood the scene before her. When that moment passed, a line of tension rippled through Rarity’s neck and up into her jaw. With greater determination she forced herself to stand, a defiant blaze in her glowing blue eyes.
Trixie blinked, and forced herself into a sitting position, unsure if she were imagining things.
A low growl issued from Rarity, and she took a trembling step forward. The rainbow veins glowed brighter, growing from her withers, the base of her horn, and hooves. They snaked and entwined across Rarity, journeying closer and closer to her cutie mark.
“What is happening to her?” Anchor demanded, casting her wild gaze wide around the quivering mass of her followers. Rounding back on Trixie, Anchor screamed, “What did you do?”
“Trixie only opened a door,” she cryptically responded, enjoying the frustration and rage that contorted Anchor.
Any repercussion for her glibness was abated as crystalline wings burst in multihued sparks from Rarity. Her cutie mark began to glow, thrumming in tune with a racing heart.
The warehouse trembled, causing a confused gasp from the crowd of scallywags and rogues. Trixie felt it first. The coming of a Shiver.
But, more than that, the warehouse shook with the energy escaping Rarity. Holes were torn in the rotten roof, and support columns cracked in the building pressure.
Some ponies attempted to run, breaking into a gallop for the exits. Their escapes were cut short as the frames buckled and the doors refused to open. Panic grew, and chaos swept the warehouse, and at the middle of it all, as if they were in the eye of a storm; Trixie, Anchor, and Rarity.
Strength continued to return to Trixie. Enough for her to stand on three of her legs. She peered into the confusion, looking for an opportunity to escape. None presented themselves, and something told Trixie that whatever may come, she was merely along for the ride now.
Rarity sagged forward, head slumped as if she were dead. Crystal wings turned to feathers and flesh. White, glorious white wings of blinding purity wrapped around Rarity in a cloak. Her mane grew longer, the shade of amethyst brighter, sparkling with almost blinding brilliance. Finally, Rarity’s cutie mark shifted, the gems that had been with her all her adult life now spun so the points met, and encased and bracketed in delicate filigree.
Anchor screamed inarticulate rage and lunged at Trixie. She was faster than Trixie anticipated, closing the gap in a flash reminiscent of teleporting. One moment almost close enough to touch Rarity, then she was in front of Trixie, slashing at her former friend’s throat. Instinct and months of tortuous training saved Trixie.
Still weak, she barely managed to dart back with a hoarse cry, magic lighting along her horn and through her coat to form a hardened barrier. Anchor’s knife sparked against the aether, tip leaving just a long, fresh cut that leaked a single drop of shimmering essence. Had she been any slower, the knife would have split her throat bare.
Another flicker and Anchor was behind her.
Trixie sensed the knife plunging towards her back, but was unable to react. Beaten, tortured, magic spent saving Rarity and the single, temporary barrier, Trixie was at her limits.
“Mama, stop!” Rarity yelled, her voice strong, and full of the regal poise she’d spent much of her life practicing.
Everypony froze, while Rarity exploded into motion. A sweep of her wings cast the zebras and ponies around her away, scattering them as if they were dry leaves in a tempest. She jumped between Trixie and Anchor, blocking the plunging dagger with her own body. Against divine flesh steel bent, and shattered.
“Ritty, back away from her! She means to steal you for herself. Keep you away from me.” Anchor circled around Rarity and Trixie, and pulled out another dagger. “She is an evil pony. You know this.”
“The only evil pony I see is you,” Rarity shot back. “I never wanted to believe what mother said about you, that you had a cruel streak and enjoyed the act of killing more than a pony should. That you would torture the crews of the ships your captured. Until now, it seemed so impossible.”
The pressure on the back of Trixie’s neck grew to a fevered pitch. Any moment now the street would vanish, and them with it. How long would they be lost? Would they even be aware? Trixie trembled, and tried to stand.
“Goodbye, mama, you deserve Tartarus.” Rarity threw her hooves around Trixie, and with a beat of powerful wings, hurdled them both high into the air through the warehouse’s rotten roof.
Beneath them the warehouse sub-district shook, and then pulled in on itself. Not just the warehouses, but all of the Iokan district. No street was spared, regardless of how insignificant or important. The orphanage, Sombra’s tower, the many, many rows of homes, and even the Furies’ temple; all gone as tens of thousands of blocks folded together. All of Tartarus shifted and shook, from one edge of the colossal city to the other.
A mighty ripple spread across the city as more districts shivered. Whatever force gripped the city was not limited to the Iokan district. Even the city walls were affected, spreading outwards, or contracting inward. Only the five rivers of the underworld, and the great lake at the city’s heart remained unchanged.
Districts reappeared. Slowly, at first, and then with greater and greater rapidity. Yomi, with its fog of impenetrable black mists moved to the east, and nearly doubled in size. Helheim became situated on a series of new hills in the north, while in the west grew the imposing, windowless palace of Mictlantechuti. To the south Duat re-emerged, situated on the mighty Lethe as she wound her way past rows of new docks.
Hades’ own palace reappeared towards the end of the great shiver, directly beneath Rarity and Trixie. Flanked by the temple of the Furies to one side, and Lethe’s manor on the other, Hades’ palace now dominated a new Iokan district. In short order the remainder of the districts emerged in new arrangements. Everything was restored.
“It’s beautiful,” Rarity mumbled, clinging tighter to Trixie as they flew into the clouds.
Fear took a greater grip as Trixie realised how high they were. “Rarity, we have to go back down to the city! We don’t know how to leave Tartarus yet!”
Rarity shook her head, and began to say something when a deafening boom rolled through the clouds. Winds buffeted them, and then they were struck by an incredible force and propelled from the sky. Still entwined in each other’s hooves, they plummeted towards the city. Ineffectually, Rarity tried to right herself and regain control. Never having flown before, she had no idea how to stop their fall. Rarity’s eyes grew bigger and bigger as they neared the ground.
Instinctual magic poured from Rarity in glowing streams from eyes, wings, and horn. Trixie tensed moments before they hit the street, and it parted to let them through. There was a rush of earth and fire, great heat boiling around Trixie, and then they struck an outcropping of stone. Splinters of rock exploded around Trixie, and Rarity lost her grip.
Flung apart, Trixie’s last sight of Rarity was the earth opening behind the new alicorn, revealing a world of fire, sulphur, and basalt monuments dotting a landscape strewn with iron dark palaces, before her head was hit by a rock and she fell into sweet oblivion.
And so, fairest Rarity and wily Trixie fell into the maw of Amaymon.
Into the place even gods fear to tread.