Rain sleeted against the despoiled soil that covered the surface of the old diamond dog mines. The land was an uneven patchwork of holes, divots, low hills, and shallow ditches, some of which broadened and deepened enough to be called a sort of proto-ravine, with scale too large to be a ditch but too mundane to be a ravine or valley. Here and there were stubborn little trees subsisting on limited nutrients, along with the occasional patch of shrubbery.
Some old mining equipment – abandoned by the dogs when they were driven from the territory – remained on the surface, often under makeshift tarpaulins or within the partial enclosures of three-walled sheds. These latter constructs were of pony origin, for the diamond dogs seldom bothered with such things. Having driven the dogs from the mines, it now fell to ponies to survey the mines and ensure they were stable.
The survey work was slow, but thorough. When it was finished, it would bring new jobs to the town, and thus the new prosperity of fresh cash flow in the economy.
But, for now, the mines were quiet. And, with no survey work scheduled for several days, they were also abandoned, both above and below the ground.
There was a stillness about the place – or else there was what stillness could be had in the midst of such a wicked and unnatural storm – but it was not to last.
Red tendrils of electricity flared and sparked amidst the rain and the muck of the place, unwelcome intruders upon the natural world. With violence they arced and crackled in sizzling chains of power towards one another, and black smoke filled the air, as though set aflame by the malice of the flecks of magical lightning.
With a loud, menacing CRACK that seemed to make the very air groan at its intrusion, the tainted teleportation broke upon the barren lands above the mines, spilling forth its unwilling occupants upon the ground.
Fluttershy landed with a wet WHA~THUMPTH! as muddy water and watery grime splashed in all directions and the ground deformed beneath her with a sickening squelch. Ditzy and Pinkie landed in similar conditions, though in Pinkie’s case it was more akin to a “Wheeeee—" WHA~THUMPTH! “—ghrblegrehlereeeghler!”
The three mares picked themselves up from the mud and shook themselves off as best as they could under the circumstances, which was to say, hardly at all. While they tidied themselves up to the meager degree they could manage, they cast their collective gaze about for Trixie.
In doing so, they noticed a conspicuous lack of megalomaniacal showmares.
“Was there… a change of plans?” asked Ditzy, who put her head to one side and knocked into the other side with her own hoof in an attempt to shake loose the mud in her ear. “I thought she was coming here with us.”
Fluttershy felt the color drain from her face. “Oh my! You don’t suppose she… t-that maybe she suspects we’re…”
“Oh, I’m sure it’s fine,” Pinkie assured her. “Maybe she just took a left turn at Albuckerkey.”
There was a great and terrible rumble in the skies above, louder even than the wrath of the storm, and the three mares instinctively crouched to the ground, with Fluttershy letting out an audible “meep!”
A bolt of lighting arced down from the sky, slower than any natural lightning, doubtless to give those observing it a chance to gaze in horror at their impending doom. It lanced down towards them as though to smite them where they stood— then arced away at the last moment to demolish a nearby hillock, vaporizing the earth there into a magician’s obscuring cloud. From within the cloud echoed a dread and terrible voice.
“PITIFUL CITIZENS OF PONYVILLE, TREMBLE BEFORE YOUR NEW PRINCESS…!”
“Or she’s just making a dramatic entrance,” amended Pinkie Pie.
“WITNESS THE MIGHT OF YOUR MISTRESS OF MAYHEM, YOUR ARCHITECT OF ANNIHILATION, YOUR MAJESTERIALLY MAGNIFICENT MORTIFIER…!”
“Gotta admit, she has her showmareship down to a science.”
“THE SULTANNESS OF SAVAGERY, THE KAISERAINE OF CALUMNY, THE INDOMITABLY GREAT AND POWERFUL PRINCEEEEEEESS TRIXIE!”
On the speaking of her name, the cloud of smoke swirled upwards into a fire-wreathed illusion of Trixie herself, forty feet tall and arrayed like a dark alicorn. Trixie herself remained garbed in her typical attire rather than royal garb. Yet, considering the malice in her eyes and the pride that seemed inextricable from the twisted power which radiated off of her as she flared Rainbow Dash’s wings, Fluttershy felt that if Trixie was not yet garbed as the dark princess she envisioned herself, it was more likely a matter of being too consumed with power to notice than any semblance of true restraint.
The sheer wrongness of it all hit Fluttershy like a wave. Trixie stood her pose, expecting an adoring public, and Fluttershy was frozen.
Fortunately, Pinkie Pie was not. As Fluttershy had predicted, Pinkie did, indeed, cheer loudest.
“YAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY GeeeeerREAT AND POW-ERFUL PRINCEEeeeeeeeeEEEESS TRRRRRIXIEEEEE!!!” cheered Pinkie, throwing confetti, streamers, and possibly firecrackers in every direction as she cartwheeled across the sodden soil.
Astonishingly, Pinkie’s display was sufficient to bring Trixie to a pause. The showmare’s eyes flickered rapidly between red and purple as she stared at Pinkie’s exuberance. Mouth slightly agape, Trixie appeared more than a little stunned to hear the pink pony cheer for her so loudly. Fluttershy only hoped she wasn’t imagining the look of plain, ordinary, non-malicious gratification that passed all too briefly across Trixie’s features.
The moment, sadly, did not last. Shaking her head as though to clear it – or, in this case, to cloud it, thought Fluttershy – Trixie resumed.
“For Trixie’s first trick, oh adoring audience, Trixie shall transform this pitiful rock and stone into the likeness of a pony!”
Trixie did so, and it was Fluttershy’s turn to have her mouth agape in shock. The statue Trixie had made was of a unicorn. A female unicorn. A female unicorn who bore a striking resemblance to Twilight.
Now why in the wide realm of Celestia would Trixie make a statue of Twilight?
“Now that Trixie has sullied her horn by making a statue of her pitiful and spiteful adversary, Twilight Sparkle, Slayer of Dreams…” at Twilight’s less-than-flattering title, there was a chorus of “BOOs!” as though a great crowd was there to shout indemnities upon the purple mare, though a quick and startled look confirmed there were no other ponies present, “… the only recourse left to the Great and Absolutely Powerful Trixie is to erase the stain of this insult by BLOWING IT THE BUCK UP!”
Ditzy grabbed the other mares and flung them all flat, shielding them with her own body as best she could as the stone statue exploded into hundreds of fragments, spewing shrapnel and rubble in all directions. Fluttershy saw a jagged six-inch-long chunk of granite embed itself in the ground barely a foot from her own head.
As Trixie’s mad cackles filled the stormy air, the three friends stood, shaken, though none the worse for wear, save only Ditzy who sported a few minor abrasions.
With uncommon somberness, Pinkie set to work in earth pony fashion, shoring up dirt and rocks into a makeshift barricade and passing out hard-hats. Fluttershy couldn’t say whether the pink mare had pulled them from her mane or from the equipment stashes, because she was too busy helping Ditzy and Pinkie shore the barricade up higher.
“W-well,” stammered Pinkie with forced cheerfulness as Trixie’s mad laughter shook the ground, “let’s hope the real one shows up before the captive audience becomes part of a disappearing act.”
In the midst of the show, unknown to the three mares – and, more importantly, unknown to Trixie – three other figures arrived on the scene and made preparations. Concealed beneath the weave of zebra cloaks – woven with zebra arts so as to blend naturally with the landscape – the newcomers began to lay their traps for the demented showmare.
Layer upon layer of bottles rigged like short-fused grenades or impact smoke bombs were arranged at critical positions or stockpiled for later use. Rather than being filled with smoke – or explosives for that matter – these containers were essentially weaponized potions with a variety of attributes.
On their own, none of these potions were sufficient to do much to Trixie. Combined with misdirection, magic, and careful timing, they might prove decisive.
With their preparations complete, Twilight, Zecora, and Burnt Oak maneuvered to their starting positions and waited for the right moment to strike.
Fluttershy lost track of time as the show went on. She and the other mares huddled together for warmth under a tarp and did their best to avoid the show’s collateral damage. Save for a few scrapes - and a painfully wet, miserable, bone-deep cold - they were none the worse for wear. Physically.
Emotionally, Fluttershy was experiencing the unfamiliar desire to wring another pony’s throat as she watched Trixie flap about on Rainbow Dash’s wings, reenacting through magically-generated visual aids the defeat of the various Bearers and their allies.
Retelling their defeats in no apparent order, Trixie had first hit upon the Apples and Fritters, then Marble Slab and Dash, then Fluttershy and her present companions, and was only now working her way to telling of the defeat of Ironhide and Morning Song.
Her rendition was… painfully detailed. Fluttershy grit her teeth in helpless frustration as Trixie roared with laughter and the projections of Morning Song and Ironhide writhed in agony upon the ground under the weight of Trixie’s magical torment.
“Kwhahaha~ha~haaa…” cackled Trixie, barely able to tell the story as she was laughing too hard. “T-they… they thought they could t-talk the-here way past the-he Great and Powerful Trixie,” she chortled.
Uncannily realistic screams ripped from the throats of the projected Ironhide and Morning Song. Fluttershy bit her lip so hard she tasted blood.
“A-and they kept screaming and screaming and screaming…” continued Trixie, “and they wouldn’t stop…” tears streamed down her face as her laughter continued uncontrolled, “and then Trixie did stop…” the projected attack ceased and with it, mercifully, the screaming, “and Trixie watched them…” her voice was hollow, “and she would not tell Trixie who she was…” with a magic tug, dog tags were pulled from the projected Morning Song’s neck, “Trixie found something,” her voice had become low, almost a hiss, “she remembered… something from the past…” a soft, almost peaceful smile crossed Trixie’s tearstained face.
Her eyes were clear.
“I did that show for them…” she said to herself. “There were hundreds of them, elite soldiers all. The Black Cav. The legendary Black Cav. REF heroes of old.” A tear-soaked inhale. “They were so far from home… in hostile lands… they needed a laugh.” Her voice was very small, “I was so afraid to perform,” a fond smile crossed her lips, “but Trixie… the Great and Powerful Trixie… she fears nothing and no one… I performed for them and…” her voice shook with emotion as she swallowed her tears. “… a-and they loved me, they really loved me, and…”
Trixie’s tear-laden lavender eyes fell upon the image of Song, frozen in memory. “She is a soldier of the Black Cav… the short one and the Konish one too… they are Black Cav… how could I… how could Trixie… this is not…”
The necklace flared a bright, hateful red that shone like the beacon atop a dark sorcerer’s tower. So painful was the light to look upon that Fluttershy and the others had to look away.
An inequine shriek, banshee-like in power and hate, ripped through the air and shook the ground.
Against the harsh glare of the necklace, Fluttershy risked a look.
Trixie’s eyes burned with red fire.
“TWILIGHT SPARKLE!” shrieked the tormented mare to the heavens above and the earth below. “YOU HAVE TAKEN EVERYTHING FROM MEEEEEE!!!”
As the rocks beneath them shook and the three captive mares huddled in fear, there came suddenly amongst them a fourth mare.
“Follow me!” Zecora bade them urgently. Before any words of shock or question could move beyond brief noises, Zecora, eschewing all attempts at verse, hissed, “Twilight is here! We must not be!”
Without another word, Zecora draped heavy cloaks over them, then led them away into the dips and troughs of the gutted landscape, away from the wretched, tragic shell of a mare who had held them captive, and away from the brave, determined mage who would confront her.
As they turned the last bend before slipping away, Fluttershy cast one final, lingering glance back at Trixie. Standing in a sort of reverse silhouette, wherein all the world was dark and indistinct and the ‘silhouetted’ object shone like fire, Trixie stood in the agony of her own mind, her cries of anguish echoing those of her victims.
Perhaps Trixie’s first victim was herself.
The earlier fury melted away in kind Fluttershy’s heart, leaving only pity. Tears stinging in her eyes, she looked away, bowed her head, and followed Zecora.
Raw, animal rage burst from Trixie like a gout of fire from a dragon, lashing out and obliterating rock and crate and shed with the ease of an artillery barrage. Insensible with hate and in agony with loss, she let forth her violence upon the landscape, and the landscape bowed to her whim.
But it could not bring back the old Trixie.
Not her. Not now.
You are beyond her now! You are Alicorn! Princess! Ruler! The Great and Powerful Princess of Magic of Vengeance!
Everything is gone!
You have everything you desire!
They fear me! They all fear me!
All shall love me and despair!
I shall never be loved again and it is her fault! That miserable witch Twilight! Fiend! Foe! Nightmare of my dreams and ENEMY OF MY SOUL!
“EVERYTHING!” shrieked Trixie over and over. “YOU TOOK EVERYTHING! EVERYTHING!”
“And I can give it back!”
The voice cut through Trixie’s fury, seizing her attention as a lifeline thrown to a drowning mare. Submerged in the sea of her own guilt, dragged down by the undertow of hate, Trixie grasped at the lifeline with the desperation of one surfacing from an unmerciful sea.
She gasped for air as though awakening from a nightmare in a cold sweat and cast her wild-eyed gaze about, searching for the voice, the voice that had penetrated her nightmare.
So consumed with the thought of getting her life back that, for a moment, she reined in her wrothful magic. The destruction which had erupted from her abated, leaving only a scorched stillness as rain hissed and sputtered against the smoldering earth.
“W-who… who said that?” she demanded, her voice barely a whisper.
“I can give it back, Trixie,” repeated Twilight Sparkle, speaking from the rain and the mist. “I can give you your life back.”
Trixie opened her mouth to ask what Twilight meant, but said, “What trickery is this, she-wolf? Monster! Trickster! Betrayer!”
“That’s what you really want, isn’t it, Trixie?” continued Twilight, pushing past Trixie’s outburst. “You want respect! You want love! You deserve to be loved, Trixie! You do! You really do! But hurting other ponies won’t give you what you want! It will only cut you off from joy!”
“It is your fault that Trixie is cut off!” roared Trixie, who fired a blast of lighting at the source of her enemy’s voice. Thunder echoed across the quarry.
Then from behind Trixie, “I never wanted any of this, Trixie.” The showmare spun, rain-soaked soot splashing as she did. “I am truly sorry this all happened. Let me help you.”
“Trixie does not need your help!” Another bolt of lightning. Another echo.
Another direction from which Twilight spoke. “You beat my friends, Trixie. You beat me. You showed how great and powerful you are. This doesn’t have to go any further. End this! I have no desire see you hurt! That Amulet will destroy you, destroy Trixie, unless Trixie takes it off!”
“SILENCE!” Lightning shot in all directions and the thunder seemed to shake the heavens.
Vaporized water hung in the air in a great mist, broken only by icy raindrops, now much diminished in number, as if they were afraid to rain on Trixie. Wise rain, wiser than that witch! I shall kill her… and all shall learn to fear and love their Trixie!
“I… I am sorry, Trixie,” said Twilight, her voice close to breaking. A silhouette was framed in the mist before her, and Trixie shot a great gout of red fire. The mist parted, the silhouette vanished… as six more ringed Trixie in from all sides. Six identical voices continued, “I will do what I can to help you.”
For a moment, fear settled into Trixie’s heart and, with it, the gnawing ache of hearing the sorrow in Twilight’s words and the sorrowful echoes in Trixie’s own lost dreams and lucid moments.
But neither fear nor sorrow colored her words as a murderous chuckle bubbled up out of her throat like molten magma coming to unleash its destruction upon the surface.
“Come one or come six, little Twilight,” purred Trixie in a sing-song voice. “No matter how many, I will kill you all.”
Twilight had never given much thought to the old expression ‘to have the tiger by the tail,’ and thus had not contemplated the implied dilemma of what one ought to do after catching a deadly creature by the tail. As she flitted about from shadow to shadow, staying ahead of Trixie’s onslaught by mere seconds, she came to a deep, personal, and intimate understanding of the old expression and all it entailed.
Rippling red lightning strikes had decimated the first six silhouettes Twilight had formed to keep Trixie disoriented, and Twilight herself barely avoided the echoing strikes which erupted from each red bolt. Twilight responded with shadowstepping about, flinging the occasional bolt of energy at Trixie – more to keep her burning energy than with any hope of actually breaching her defenses – and then shadowstepping away moments before Trixie vaporized the area from which Twilight had been striking.
If that blasted necklace really has placed her on a level comparable to a real alicorn, then I’m doubly grateful that Nightmare Moon wasn’t at her full strength when I faced her. A blood-red magical spear narrowly missed giving Twilight a lethal haircut. And also grateful that Nightmare Moon was mostly toying with me and not actively trying to murder me.
As much as possible, Twilight kept Trixie’s ire focused on the mirror images. Thank heaven for the mist, she thought as Trixie salvoed a hundred magical spears at two of the decoys. They’re little more than shadows, and would not hold up to proper scrutiny. But by virtue of the weather – and Trixie’s demented rage – the showmare could not seem to discern what was real and what was not.
And it’s about to get worse for her.
Using the illusions, Twilight lured Trixie to the first trap: a trio of bottles rigged to spray their contents once sparked by magic. Trixie came charging towards one of the decoys, hurling threats and insults—
—which turned shortly to expletives as the green goo splashed over her.
Yes! thought Twilight, pumping one hoof in triumph. That mixture will slow her reaction time as it seeps into her skin and—eep!
Twilight was forced to magic a barrier between herself and the reflexive bolts of energy that Trixie shot in all directions in her anger. Most sailed harmlessly away, but the one which had nearly hit Twilight bounced.
Trixie turned her baleful gaze upon Twilight.
“Crap,” muttered Twilight as Trixie charged her horn. The lavender mare barely managed to escape into her shadowstep as a searing beam of energy cut through the space she’d just occupied.
Emerging well away from the site of her narrow escape, she had to duck as an arcing ring of ruinous power lashed out from Trixie in all directions, nearly decapitating Twilight by accident.
Well, not really by accident, thought Twilight as she threw her voice in a fake scream of agony. Trixie rounded on the direction of the scream as Twilight drew another trio of bottles from where Zecora and Burnt Oak had cached them. She is trying to kill me after all.
As Trixie filled the area of the false scream with fire, Twilight hurled the bottles. Time for some coughing and bleary eyesight, Trixie. As she escaped the anticipated return fire by shadowstepping away once again, Twilight did some mental calculations. Based on how quickly Trixie spun and hurled those boulders in my general vicinity, thought Twilight as she observed a minotaur-sized rock flatten the area she’d been standing a moment ago, I don’t think the slowed reaction time has set in yet.
As Twilight continued dancing around the wrathful Trixie, she could not help but think of the tiger she’d caught by the tail… and whether the hunter who watched from the side would be forced to kill the tiger to save the one who caught it.
Burnt Oak watched from his sniper blind. Unlike Trixie, he could see through the mist, courtesy of a potion from Zecora.
It was not a potion taken lightly, for only an earth pony’s constitution – and a hardy one at that – could manage the concoction without it turning to poison. Even now, it seemed to strike at his innards, and he had to fight the urge to vomit.
But I can see her. I can see them both. And I can see Trixie… falling apart.
He winced every time Trixie lashed out, for any one of her strikes could kill Twilight if it landed at full force. More than once his hoof tightened on the broad trigger of the crossbow… but not yet, he thought. Not until I have to.
The potions were having an effect on Trixie, that much he could tell. Her movements were becoming more erratic, sluggish, and ill-aimed. Yet the force of her attacks was not diminished in the slightest. If anything, the attacks were growing stronger.
She has to run out of energy eventually. And then… and then…
Burnt Oak had seen what happened when unicorns drew on their magic past their own magic pool’s capacity to sustain it, seen what happened when they drew on their bodies’ energy levels, burning calories for casting. Some unicorns blacked out. Others pushed through. At low levels it was sustainable. At moderate levels, it was a risk, but possibly worth it. At higher levels, it could be permanently crippling or even deadly. And, when the drain becomes automatic, as when pushed by Dark Magic… well… they call it Ghoul Syndrome for a reason.
Just like that poor sap in Canterlot.
As Trixie staggered about, her shouts and expletives giving way to silence as she shadow-boxed decoys with her own deadly magic, Burnt Oak realized that neither he nor Twilight need necessarily kill Trixie, even if lethal force became unavoidable.
The amulet might do it for them.
Pain.
Rage.
Exhaustion.
Confusion.
These emotions warred in Trixie’s heart as she chased the phantoms Twilight. Her foe was indeed a nightmare, one who stalked her from the shadows and stole her life but could not be brought to battle.
All Trixie’s power and all her deadly might, and she had no foe upon which to inflict it. Nor would she have much time to do it.
The putrid potions of Twilight Sparkle had set to work in Trixie like a poison. Her strength ebbed as her vision blurred and her ears rang. The amulet sought to cure the poison, but she felt it drawing too much on her strength.
Too much, too long.
Her belly was empty, and her limbs were weak.
But the amulet drove her ever on, whipping, striking, driving, gnawing, consuming, controlling…
She could scarcely remember how she’d come to be here, how her nightmare had found her, how she had failed to escape…
… to escape…
… to escape…
Yes… yes, Trixie would escape, before the amulet consumed her…
Before it consumed them all…
Magic built around her.
She prayed that she reappear where she needed to go.
It’s working, thought Twilight, breathless with forlorn hope as much as with exhaustion. She’s wearing out. She’ll break before I do. Come on, Trixie, break! Just pass out, okay? Just pass out and don’t let that blasted amulet keep drawing on you! Fall over, dangit! Fall over!
Trixie wobbled unsteadily on her hooves, seeming about ready to do just that.
Come on, Trixie, end this, come on!
Tendrils of electricity built around Trixie as a teleportation spell matrix climbed shakily into place.
No, blast it, NO!
Twilight opened her mouth to shout and charged her horn to grab the mare—
Too late!
In a flash of light, Trixie vanished from her sight… and a red flash flared briefly in the distance through the mist and rain. Twilight took off sprinting toward the light. She hasn’t gone far! I can still do this! I can do this! I can—
There was a thunderous CLANG that cut through the air like a knife, splitting the clouds in its wake as a keening wail resounded through the sky.
Trixie emerged from her teleport and staggered, coughing and hacking smoke and ash and hoping that wasn’t blood she saw on the ground. Blearily she gazed about, seeking some landmark that might grant her bearings, might help her see the way out of this accursed situation. Something like the pickaxes and crates and shovels and… I’m still at the old mines, she thought with tired disgust. Perhaps I can find my way out of this blasted mist and better see where Sparkle is.
A sharp whistle pierced her thoughts. At its ringing interruption, she turned to see that strange, bipedal creature from the trainyard whom the amulet had named ‘foe’ as he swung a shovel right at her—
CLANG!
The crazed Trixie crumpled at Friar Jacques’ feet like a marionette whose strings had been cut, water and mud splashing all around her as she came to rest in a heap.
The dark jewelry about her neck pulsed and flickered – desperately it seemed to Jacques – and there was a great keening wail upon the wind, like the strain of machinery or the whine of a wounded animal, and the storm seemed to peak, like an animal arching its back in pain.
Then it ceased. The water fell about Friar Jacques in a great, final torrent as the clouds shrank, imploded, and vanished without a trace. The clear brightness of the sun blazed merrily above the landscape, like a breath of fresh air after near-drowning.
Friar Jacques took in a double-lungful of fresh, clean air, the first pure breath he’d had since entering the tainted landscape.
Splashing behind him alerted him to the presence of Pinkie Pie, Fluttershy, Zecora, and a pleasant grey mare he’d met only in passing named Ditzy Do. Slowly, and in stunned disbelief, his pony – and zebra – friends emerged from their hidden places, blinking in the sun and in shock. Covered in muck and grime and bearing bruises and scrapes, they looked haggard and worn and in great need of some of the pleasant warmth and friendship for which ponies were renowned.
The friar gave them a cheerful wave. “Bonjour!” he greeted them with a fond smile. “I see you have been busy, no?”