Chapter 6:
Lavender Unicorn Syndrome, part 1
The quiet town of Horsmouth was located in the North-Western corner of Equestria. It was cut off from the rest of the land by the mountain range known as the Teeth on one side, and bordered by the vast ocean to the West on the other.
The town, home to no more than a few hundred ponies, had no Night Shift history to speak of. In fact, this had been the first time I'd ever heard of its existence. As such, it came as no surprise that the Equestrian Railway wasn't connected to the town. The nearest stop was in the similarly small Stutencröe, lying at the foot of the Teeth which separated the two communities. Stutencröe was one of the northernmost Germane settlements of Western Equestria, and it was as close as Canterlotian influence ever came to Horsmouth.
Tucked away behind the mountains, Horsmouth was, for all the capital cared, autonomous. The townsfolk rarely left their home, and when they did, they mostly ventured no further than Stutencröe.
Now, my task was to brave the heights of the Teeth; to uncover what lies beyond the shadow over Horsmouth.
There is a shadow over Horsmouth; that is what the stallion pulling my cart had told me before we departed from Stutencröe. It took quite some “persuasion” to get the stallion to take me there. How fortunate, I thought, that Luna didn't suspend my funding.
The cart was an aged thing, having succumbed to rot a long time ago. I found myself bouncing on the dirty wood of my seat with the smallest bump of the old mountainside road. Adding to my unease was the staggering height at which we were treading. There seemed to be no gradual descent in the mountains; anywhere I looked, all I saw were the steep, endless lines of valleys swirling around the needle-like mountaintops. One wrong step on the puller's part would have sent the cart and me hurtling down into a most unbecoming end. I held onto my black saddlebag nervously.
Still, considering all of that, I thought myself lucky, for at least I had somepony pulling my cart. I knew that a stallion who draws carriages for a living would get me to Horsmouth much faster than if I had gone on hoof. A petite young lady such as myself was not cut out for such a long trek, after all, and I definitely didn't want to reach the town at night.
As the road circled around the mountain, I could finally see the great ocean beyond. And down there in the mist, where water met the cliffs and lashed at the eroding stone, was the town of Horsmouth. Its decrepit buildings latched desperately onto the mountainside so as not to fall into the abyss below.
The town seemed a disorganised mess of buildings sprouting outwards from the cliffs, grabbing onto each other and climbing one another so as to stay up. Each house was connected to its neighbours by wooden roads, bridges and makeshift stairs built of blackened planks that crept along the mountain, rickety and creaky, covering the bare rocks. The town, it seemed, was held together only by rusted nails and good prayers.
Looking down from the road as we travelled, I saw what I collected must be the town centre. A circular, oddly level portion of the mountainside was covered by what seemed to be wooden flooring. It was as if a portion of the mountain had been scooped away with a precise cut, then the scar bandaged with the town's defining planking. Squinting my eyes, I thought I saw through the enveloping mist what appeared to be a crowd of ponies standing in that town square; the cause of the commotion I couldn't tell.
A noticeable bump signalled our official arrival to the town as the wheels of the cart rolled onto the shaky wooden planks. The Stutencröen stallion that had so dutifully took me there then stopped dead in his tracks. He was visibly jittery and trembled as he looked at the ancient buildings of Horsmouth. I didn't drag out his torture; after I paid him good bits for his trouble, he left without so much as looking back, throwing only a quick “danke” my way.
How strange, I thought. By the time he makes it home, it'll be long past nightfall. And still he'd rather spend his evening walking home alone, rather than by staying in Horsmouth for the night.
The Germanes were known for their superstitiousness and how much faith they had in old legends. On one hoof, I wanted to shrug off his worries as the effects of an overzealous belief in the irrational and a natural fear of the unknown; on the other, however, I knew better than to assume that there was no basis in reality for whatever devilish gossips the Stutencröe folk whispered about the town.
If there was one thing I'd learned in my time with Night Shift, it's that if you hear tales of a monster stalking the unwary at night, there might just be one out there.
It was late in the afternoon, and the ever-present mist, along with the slowly but surely declining Sun, made for a gloomy ambience in Horsmouth. Indeed, if there was only one word which I could have used to describe the town, it would have been “grey.” The deep-browns of the buildings and roads did little to liven the bleak mountainside. I whipped my saddlebag around my back and set out for the strange town.
As I walked along the deserted streets, I paid special attention not to look down. While on one side the looming Teeth towered above me, all I could see on the other was the endless water reaching out beyond the horizon. Separating me from the depths was but the rotten—and sometimes outright missing—railing that sprouted from the plank-roads, which themselves seemed ready to collapse at any given moment.
Looking at the antiquated architecture with all its iron-padded windowsills and old-fashioned tile roofs, I felt as if I had left my own time and entered the previous century, or perhaps the one before that. Long-corroded weather vanes cranked horribly atop crumbling homes, and even today I can clearly recall the distinct, unabating smell of wet wood that pervaded every alley.
Trying to find my way to the gathering that I had seen from above, I wondered what it was that Luna hoped I'd accomplish in Horsmouth. I hopped from one squeaky panel to the next, getting around a corner to finally come in view of the town square. The crowd was still there. Yet what drew my attention was what I saw at the centre.
A wagon of sorts was parked smack in the middle of the area. The walls were painted in a gleeful yellow, and the pitched roof on top was bright red. Laid out before its gilded wheels was a makeshift stage whose wood was in excellent condition. As if I needed any more clues to tell that this thing wasn't from around here.
In fact, the more I looked at the composition, the more it seemed to remind me of something I had seen before.
“Come one, come all!”
I thought I recognised the voice that emanated ominously from that house on wheels, that endlessly haughty tone, the unabashed hubris. I stopped in my tracks, taking a deep breath, refusing to believe it. Perhaps if I don't accept it, it'll go away. Oh, will I ever learn?
“Come and witness the amazing magicks—”
You have got to be kidding me.
“Of the Great and Powerful Trixie!”
In a puff of smoke and light, the mare herself appeared, wearing her trademark grin.
The fireworks and spell-explosions that followed were obviously meant to get the audience stirred in anticipation of what was to come. Being, seemingly, the one pony who knew all about what was to come, they had the exact opposite effect on me.
The crowd, on the other hoof, was much more impressed than I was. They clapped and whistled cheerfully. As I made my way to them and pushed a few ponies aside getting to the front, I noticed that there wasn't a single horn to be seen, save for mine and Trixie's. Have these ponies never seen a unicorn before? No wonder, then, that they were so enraptured.
Trixie was dressed in her recognisable attire of a witch's hat and collar-cape adorned by mismatched pictures of colourful stars. She pranced around the stage, waving her hooves erratically in the air in motions designed to entrap and entice the uneducated masses. Her horn spewed forth sparks and more puffs of light to complete the act.
Standing first in line, I was able to best “enjoy” the legerdemain and hocus-pocus performed by the busted boaster.
“Watch in awe as the great and powerful Trixie performs the most spectacular feats of magic ever witnessed by pony eyes!”
Well, that's another way to put it.
The crowd ooohed and aaahed at Trixie's proclamation, clearly eager in their anticipation.
Yet the situation begged the question: why is she here? Indeed, Trixie could hardly have picked a place worse than Horsmouth to acquire her long sought-after fame. Or had I, perhaps, humiliated her so much in Ponyville, all those years ago, as to make her flee this far? Surely I'm not that intimidating.
Trixie waved her hooves again, and in a small glimmer of light, she conjured up a bouquet of flowers mid-air. Then, after taking the flowers into her hooves for a moment, she cast them away, each disappearing in its own little flash of blue glow.
The crowd cheered in response, stomping on the ground with their front hooves to clap for the magician on stage. I sighed deeply.
I may have sighed a bit too loudly, in fact, as I saw Trixie's ear twitch a little. Her eyes began scanning the crowd, looking for the source of the sound that threatened to burst her ballooning ego.
“What was that?” she asked, standing up defiantly on her hind legs. “Who is so ignorant as to challenge—”
And then she saw me.
Her mouth was left hanging agape. The look of complete and utter confusion in her eyes as she stood there, balancing clumsily on two hooves, is a cherished memory of mine to this day. After a short moment, however, her mouth formed a teethy grin.
“It seems serendipity is a friend of the Great and Powerful Trixie!” she announced proudly, looking me straight in the eye.
The light-pink glow of Trixie's magic quickly surrounded me, and before I knew it, I was standing on stage, right beside the showstopper.
“Who would've thought that in the distant town of Horsmouth, the Great and Powerful Trixie would find her long-lost friend!” she yelled loudly, posing and motioning towards me as more fireworks and sparks flew up to explode in the air.
On cue, the crowd cheered.
“What are you doing?” I asked through my teeth.
“Behold, ladies and gentlecolts, Trixie's faithful assistant!” she yelled at the top of her lungs amidst a cavalcade of lights and flashes. “Sparky Starbutt!”
“What?!”
Out of nowhere, a small red ball of some kind appeared before me, and before I could react, it flew straight for me. A sharp sting of pain rushed through my body as the ball collided with my face. Quickly wiping my eyes clean of the resulting tears, I saw that the ball had been stuck onto my nose.
Trixie had turned me into a clown, much to the audience's amusement.
“Stop it!” I screamed.
I attempted to pick the ball off, but my hooves seemed to pass straight through, unable to touch the thing; it stood as thin as air.
A quick flash of light disoriented me. When the colourful cloud of smoke faded, I found myself fully clothed in what seemed to be a mix between a shower curtain and a ragged mattress, elegantly crafted into a most undignified dress.
I had, at this point, just about enough of Trixie's foal-like antics. Should I just hold her down, I wondered, and humiliate her in front of everypony again? Or should I simply blast her off the stage? I had many options. Yet, for now, I still vowed to attempt to settle this in a peaceful way. While I had no qualms about teaching her another lesson, I hesitated with stooping down to her level by engaging in a petty “magic duel.”
Trixie looked me over and grinned, moving her eyebrows up and down challengingly. I walked closer to her, gathering willpower to talk to her politely.
“Trixie, please—”
No use. As soon as I opened my mouth, Trixie used her own magic to teleport to the far end of the stage. She tilted her head to the side and flicked an ear at me.
“What's that?” she asked. “The Great and Powerful Trixie cannot hear little Starbutt!”
After a deep breath—doing my best to keep my eye on Trixie and ignore the cackling crowd—I channelled magic and teleported to her side, still determined not to tear her limb from limb. Upon arrival, however, I was greeted by but large a red cloth that tangled around me as I materialised. Throwing the thing off, I saw that Trixie was standing at the exact spot where I had stood before my spell. The red cloak was now floating beside her, and she waved it teasingly in the air like a matador anticipating a charging bull.
Our spectators were about as amused as she was, bursting with laughter.
My eyes may have been twitching at this point; my memory is a bit clouded, I confess. Still, keeping cool, I took a slow step forward. Trixie raised an eyebrow. I took another long, calculated step, inching closer to her with unbroken eye contact. When I lifted a hoof again, a violent flash of light blinded me. I felt blunt impacts on my back and sides, and became completely disoriented for a few seconds. When I regained my sight and the colourful smoke cleared, I found myself lying face down on the stage, and I could feel Trixie's hooves stomping on me as she stood triumphantly on top of me.
“Thank you! Thank you!” she said to the cheering audience.
She blew kisses with a hoof, sparks and rose petals flying out after each smooch. My legs ached too much to push her off physically, and I was still delirious by being thrown around. Furious as I was, I conceded defeat. Clearly, deciding not to play was not the winning move. And as much as I hated to admit it, I could only admire her exceptionally fast teleportation abilities. I would never have thought she could do that.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Trixie's head descending slowly. For another bout of snappy one-liners, no doubt.
“Look at them,” she whispered, barely audible above the crowd's cheering.
“Look at who?!” I snapped, looking up at her.
I felt Trixie step off from my back, and saw her extend a hoof. I eyed it suspiciously for a second before taking it. Surprisingly enough, she really did help me stand up. I shook my head and my vision clear, and looked at Trixie questioningly.
Slowly, the noise of the audience died down. Silence beset the misty town of Horsmouth once again. A moment before, Trixie had appeared ready to burst in schadenfreudig delight. Now, as her gaze swept the crowd, I saw no sign of the arrogance that I thought to be her lifeblood.
I turned to look toward our audience as well. In a split second, my boiling blood froze over.
Only now did I see. It had been, quite literally, staring me in the face this entire time, yet I was too fixated on Trixie to notice. And, perhaps, the all-engulfing mist also played part in the apparent selectiveness of my vision. The ponies in the crowd, all of them, every earth pony, and even what few pegasi there were...
They were all purple. Anypony I looked at, I saw palette of purples and violets staring back at me. Some were darker, some were lighter, but one thing was very clear: they were all equally sick.
Their eyes were the worst. What should have been white was instead a dark shade of lavender, darker still than their violet manes and coats, sometimes almost completely black. One could scarcely make out where the iris began. And their expressions! That vapid gaze with which they looked at us horrified me. They blinked at irregular intervals, sometimes only one eye and sometimes both, but with a small delay between the right and left.
They licked their lips and they drooled, discoloured saliva hanging from their chins in sticky strands as they made their darkened, rotting teeth bare in their smiles. They fidgeted about in place, shifting weight from one broken-up hoof to another, and they chuckled quietly to themselves with a horrible, rattling laugh perhaps more similar to coughing. Indeed, they weren't in pain. At least, they didn't seem to be. They were all so happy, so overjoyed to be able to witness the show.
When I finally managed to get my eyes off the terrifying sight, I looked back at Trixie with newfound horror. When she spoke, gone was the insolent audacity that had been so prevalent in her voice.
“I knew Luna would be sending help,” she said. “Figures it turns out to be you.”
Trixie insisted that she showed me around town. She dispelled the illusions of the “dress” and clown-nose, and after clearing the stage of props, we left the crowd behind.
How she could bear prancing around in that ridiculous wizard cape and hat all day was beyond me.
I quickly came to miss the wide space of the town square, however. Although Trixie kept a few steps ahead, the narrowness of the makeshift plank-roads that spanned the town still made us get uncomfortably close to each other; something that got exceedingly awkward whenever Trixie decided to climb a set of stairs in front of me. Carrying my bag around on the slopes was rather wearisome as well.
“How long?” I asked.
“Longer than you,” she said. “I was one of the first agents.”
“How did you become an agent, anyway?”
“How did you?”
Well, there was that thing with my parents dying....
“I'd rather not talk about that,” I said.
“And I forgot,” she replied.
Point taken.
“It's very clever, though,” I said. “You use the whole travelling magician schtick to go wherever Luna sends you, isn't that right?”
“Observant as ever.” She nodded. “And I was doing just the same in Ponyville. Before you and your... special friends lured that Ursa Major into town.”
“Ursa Minor.”
She groaned. “Oh, yes, of course, how could I forget? Thanks to those two boyscouts, my cover was blown. Or destroyed, more like. I couldn't stay in town any longer, and, needless to say, that parasprite infestation I was sent to fix was left unchecked.” She exhaled deeply. “I do take satisfaction in knowing that you had to deal with that later, though,” she added sassily.
“After everything you just put me through, you still felt the need to rub that one in, didn't you?” I asked.
“Yes,” she answered.
By this time we have made quite the distance from the town square, although perhaps less horizontally and more vertically. After a final set of stairs, we seemed to have emerged at the highest part of town, at a portion of the mountain where the slopes were gentle enough to safely stand on.
Below, I saw the entirety of the town, laid out along the steep slopes. The town square was in plain sight as well. Interestingly, much of the audience was still there, even though the show had ended long ago. They just stood there, staring at the empty stage. I wondered if they even realised that we were gone.
Not far from Trixie and I was what appeared to be a playground; sets of swings and see-saws stood wedged into the rocky cliff. Trixie walked up to the composition and I followed curiously. She pushed one of the swings gently. Its rusty chains rattled and made an infernal screeching, but the swing, aged as it was, seemed to hold.
“Tell me, have you noticed anything strange about the crowd down there?” Trixie asked.
I took another look at the square.
“Apart from the obvious?” I asked. “I noticed there were no unicorns. Looking at them now, I need to ask, why are they still there?”
“They're a slow bunch,” Trixie responded, glancing down at them as well. “I've been putting on the same show every day and they never seemed to notice. If anything, they were getting more into it each time. Looks like they admire repetition. They'll disperse in time, though.”
“What about the lack of unicorns?”
“That's troubling, yes, since the latest Equestrian Census revealed a small unicorn population in town. Still, there is something that I think is even more worrying. Haven't you noticed anything else?”
I shrugged. “Can't say I did.”
Trixie pushed the swing again. The metallic creaking hurt my ears, but Trixie seemed not to even notice. She stared blankly at the swing as its movement gradually slowed and finally stopped.
“You know, Sparky,” she began, “in my tours around Equestria, I've got used to all kinds of audiences coming to see me. It's mostly just ponies, but there have been donkeys and mules, horses, even the occasional griffin. And no matter their race or class, curious folks always have something in common. More often than not, they tend to bring their children.”
Trixie pushed the swing one more time.
“I haven't seen a single foal in this town,” she said.
As I looked at the empty playground around us, the weight of that statement slowly sunk in.
“H-how long have you been in Horsmouth?” I asked.
“Luna received reports of oddities regarding Horsmouth a week ago. I've been here three days, this being the fourth.”
“Does Luna have any idea what happened?”
“She has no clue. Nopony does. I was sent to look around, and I've been told that after a few days another agent would be sent.”
She looked at me, then back at the swing and sighed.
“What are the chances?” she mumbled, shaking her head.
“How did Luna even learn of this place?” I asked, ignoring that little comment. “I don't think anypony ever comes here.”
“That's true,” Trixie replied. “But Horsmouth folk often leave, mostly to visit Stutencröe. They're regulars at the stores. And when a Stutencröen shopkeeper gossipped that disfigured ponies arrived from Horsmouth to buy candles and ropes, the rumours quickly reached Luna's ears.”
“Are you telling me that these, these things, they made the journey to Stutencröe and then managed to return to Horsmouth again? They hardly seemed capable of such a journey to me.”
“Which is why the news is most concerning. You don't even know the worst of it. Come on.”
Trixie stepped away from the swing and began walking in my direction. She passed by me and continued forward until the slopes became too steep to advance further. She leaned forward and stuck her head out as much as she could without tumbling. All the while, I was close behind her.
“There.” She pointed down, towards the edge of Horsmouth. “Can you see it?”
I stood beside her and stuck my head out as well, peeking in the indicated direction.
“I see a waterfall,” I said.
When I squinted just right, I could see a narrow path connecting Horsmouth to the nearby waterfall, which exited the mountainside via a cave. The rushing water cascaded directly into the ocean below.
“There's a river inside the mountain,” Trixie said. “It's where the townsfolk get their water from. You may have seen the wells around town. And that right there...” She pointed at the waterfall. “Is where the river ends.”
I nodded. “Right. But how is this relevant?”
“Every midnight, the citizens, all of them, they walk out of their homes and waltz right up to the waterfall. They disappear inside the cave, and come out a few hours later.”
“What do they do in there?”
“Exactly,” she said, bumping my nose with a hoof. “It's a proper maze in there, and I didn't want to go alone. Now that you're here, we can find out.”
With that, Trixie turned around and began making her way down the mountainside. I followed closely.
“I have a single lead,” Trixie said as she walked. “I thought whatever infected the Horsmouth folk, it was in the water. I've avoided drinking from the wells and I've been just fine. So I sent a small sample to Containment a few days ago, and they were pretty quick with their response. They did find something magical in nature in there, but couldn't tell me anything else.”
“The water was probably enchanted, then,” I said. “Some kind of spell that causes deformities in whoever drinks it.”
“I've actually been thinking that it's something much simpler than that,” Trixie replied. “Ever heard of poison joke?”
I rolled my eyes. “I don't think this is poison joke.”
“Neither do I, really,” she said, “but it could be similar. Some sort of natural magic, a herbal poison. Curing something like that would be much simpler than trying to dispel some evil magic.”
“What makes you think it's like that?”
“I've gone out of my way to inspect the fish and birds around here. They seem fine, even though the river empties right there. I think it's the salt, the salt in the ocean that neutralises whatever agent's in the river.”
“Or, maybe, it's a pony specific spell. Ever thought of that?”
“You can do that?” she asked with genuine surprise in her voice.
“It's magic, Trixie, you can do anything.” I thought about it for a moment. “It would take a powerful unicorn to do on this scale, though. We have to be careful.”
“I still think it's nothing like that.”
“Are you suggesting that we put salt into their drinking water to test your hypothesis, Trixie?”
“Yes,” she answered proudly. Then she paused. “N-no,” she stammered. “Of course not.”
“Thought so.”
By the time we finally reached the town square again, most of the crowd had indeed dispersed, although I could still see a few stragglers around, staring blankly out of their heads. Trixie walked up onto the empty stage and looked at these few ponies, shaking her head in pity.
“It's too bad, really,” she said. “This place really needed some brightening up, something to balance out the greyness. And purple is such a beautiful colour, too.”
I turned to look at her, tilting my head and raising an eyebrow. Trixie looked at me instinctively, then away immediately when she realised what she said. She pulled the brim of her hat over her eyes in an attempt to hide the redness of her face. It was a futile attempt.
“That is so not what I meant,” she grumbled.
She then lifted her head haughtily and hopped off the stage, walking around me and flicking her tail under my nose as she passed by. She wordlessly made her way to the wagon she called her home and fiddled with the lock before throwing its door open. With a motion of a hoof, she beckoned me to the door.
Rolling my eyes, I walked up to her.
“Sorry to disappoint, Trixie,” I chortled as I reached her. “My barn doors just don't swing that way.”
“Are you sure about that?” she asked.
I wasn't quite sure what to make of that question. Then I looked inside the wagon through the open door. From the outside, the thing had seemed to be just barely spacious enough for a pony to turn around within. Looking in, however, I saw a vast space, at least as big as the library's main floor back in Ponyville. I blinked and rubbed my eyes in bafflement. In the end, I had no choice but to believe what I saw: Trixie's carriage was much larger inside than out.
“'Cause that's a shame, Sparky,” she snarked. “You're welcome in my barn any time.”
I walked inside, and it took a while for me to take it all in. I was in the middle of a proper two-storey building. The lower level, where I presently stood, was a large circular room. I spun around in place, trying to absorb everything around me.
On one side, taking up over a quarter of the level, there was something I can perhaps best describe as a miniature laboratory, with buzzing machinery, wires and tubes leaving and entering the wall, and all kinds of devices lined with buttons and levers whose function I couldn't begin to guess.
Disregarding that magi-technological marvel, the bottom floor was beautifully furnished with masterful woodwork. The floor, smelling of rich mahogany, was covered by a soft carpet of recognisably Manehatten craftsmareship.
Taking up another portion of the space was what I gathered to be a resting area. Two softly padded armchairs sat there, separated by a coffee table, facing a gently blazing fireplace which seemed not to release any smoke. Above the fireplace, a sword was on display. But while unicorn rapiers are usually designed to be lightweight to ease telekinesis and help deliver precision strikes, the weapon on the wall was unusually large and brutish. Upon closer inspection of the etchings on its handle, I realised the sword was in fact a traditional griffin dragonslayer, designed to be physically held by their massive talons.
At the opposite side of the room were a few shelves, some filled with books and some displaying more relics. The books were the first to catch my attention. “Why Do Griffins Hate Hippogriffs?;” “Changeling Anatomy;” “Twenty Signs Your Roommate Might Be a Vampire;” “Why YOU Should Be a Princess;” “The Ins and Outs of Telekinesis;” “The Seven Demons of Buffalo Legend;”... and even another edition of “Fifty Bales of Hay,” along with many others.
I never took Trixie for much of a reader. Indeed, the only thing I had ever taken Trixie for was but a lowly stage magician compensating for her lack of confidence with an unhealthy amount of puppet arrogance. To find out about her like this was humbling, to say the least. I suppose ponies really aren't always what they seem on the surface.
Among the many queer artefacts on the shelves, I recognised a vampire's fang, a werewolf's cloven hoof, and even what I thought to be a changeling's horn. Not far from the shelves was a large chest—labelled simply “weapons”—held closed by an enormous metal lock.
I was almost getting dizzy by how fast I was running about, turning my head back and forth, examining every last thing inside.
“Yeah, well,” Trixie's voice came from behind me, “there's a few upsides to the travelling life. You get to collect all kinds of things. They're my replacement for pony connection.” She let loose a prideful giggle. “Guess Luna cares too much about your friendships in Ponyville to ever send you far, eh?”
The question made me stop.
“Yes,” I said, turning to her. “I suppose that's right.”
But not any more, apparently.
As I didn't want to think about it, I opted to quickly resume my inspection of Trixie's home.
On the upper level of the wagon was what Trixie called her “living quarters.” Although much smaller than the lower level, the upstairs room was still comfortable. A bed, a wardrobe, a mirror on the wall, a table nearby; the simplicity of the room was in stark contrast with the exhibit below.
Walking down the stairs, as I beheld the lower floor one more time, I couldn't help but be filled with a sense of professional admiration towards Trixie. And perhaps a faint shade of jealousy. I hated myself for that; I thought I had grown out of such things by now.
Trixie leaned against the wall by the door, waiting impatiently for me to finish strolling around.
“This is unbelievable,” I said. “Where did you get this? Did you make it yourself?”
“No, of course not,” she said. “It was a gift for my faithful service, courtesy of Luna and straight from Containment. Don't think I could build anything remotely similar if I tried.” She looked at the whirring machinery in the corner for a moment, then back at me. “I did tinker around with what they gave me, though. That room up there? That's all mine.”
“A magitech device that bends space,” I mumbled. “It goes all the way back to Star Swirl! I've read about the theory, but to see it like this... I have no words.”
“It's less useful than it sounds, honestly,” Trixie said. “For now, anyway. The machinery's much too clumsy to be usable offensively. And, again, incredibly hard to make.”
“What about your previous wagon? The one trashed by the Ursa. Was it...?”
“A prototype,” she replied. “Even bigger. Still couldn't replace it.”
“Oh.”
A pause.
“Feel bad yet?” Trixie asked.
“Very,” I responded.
“Good.” She nodded.
“Now hold on,” I said. “If this thing can bend space, that means it also bends time, right?”
Trixie blinked.
“Can this thing travel in time?” I asked.
She sighed deeply. “I think that's enough for now,” she said, looking at me as if I were insane. “Listen. Our task is to get inside that cave. And I have a plan.”
It was dark outside. I sat comfortably in an armchair facing the fireplace, looking into the dancing fire. Trixie's hat and cape hung on a small coat rack nearby. Over the serene cracking of the flames, I heard the wizardess herself messing about with the machinery at the other end of the room. Soon, I heard the sound of her hooves getting closer, and when she sat down in the other chair beside me, a small cup of tea floated before my eyes. My purple-tinted aura drove away her pinkish glow and the cup flew gently under my nose.
“That smells excellent,” I said. “No local ingredients were used, I take it.”
“Only in yours.”
“Thanks, Trixie, you're so nice.”
“Aren't I just.”
Her cup floated up between the two of us, and I moved my own cup there to clink them together.
“Cheers,” we said in chorus.
I took a small sip.
“You sure this is going to work?” I asked.
“It had better,” she said. “Being bitten once was well enough, thank you very much. Celestia knows what I'd've done if the infection was transferred like that.”
“The town of purple ponies that bite at night,” I said. “Sounds like something out of a terrible adventure flick.”
“No joke, though. These ponies? I tried following them to the cave just the other night. Can't really do it from a distance because the streets are so narrow, and there's so many of them. And when you get close, they kick and bite. It's insane.”
“Completely placid during the day, aggressive by night. Another mystery to solve.”
“Exactly.”
She leaned out of her seat and looked back; out the window, I imagined.
“Getting pretty late,” she said, taking a sip of her tea. “We should probably begin.”
I looked outside as well. “I guess that's right.”
I cracked my neck and stood up, stretching my legs and placing my cup of tea onto the small table to the side. Trixie did so as well. We walked to the large space at the centre of the room and stood before one another.
“Now remember what I taught you, Sparky,” Trixie said. “Concentration is key. If you mess this up....”
“You're getting your visage ruined, one way or another,” I said. “I'm pretty good with magic, trust me. And the idea is sound. Although, I still find the execution a bit... questionable.”
“Oh, who's a shy filly? You can't cast a high-level illusion spell on yourself, you know that. It's just not possible for a simple unicorn. So get to it.”
I closed my eyes and concentrated. I pictured Trixie in my head, focusing less on minute detail and more on the most defining features. A slim build, thin legs, blue all throughout; the cutie mark; the eyes and silver mane. Then I formulated a different image of her: a Trixie whose coat had a noticeable shade of lavender in it. I gradually faded out all of the blue, strengthening the purplish hue. I adjusted her mane to a similar, slightly lighter colour, and darkened her eyes and teeth to match the “Horsmouth look.” I carefully erased her horn and redrew her cutie mark into a simple circle. Unassuming enough, I thought. Then I added the finishing touches, such as the cracked hooves and bleeding lips.
I opened my eyes, and in front of me, I saw a proper, upstanding Horsmouth citizen.
“Done already?” Trixie asked. “How do I look?”
“Absolutely horrible,” I said.
She grinned, showing off her new teeth. “Excellent. Now hold still.”
I straightened my back and awaited the spell. Trixie closed her eyes and I saw her horn light up. I admit, I did get a little nervous, seeing it pointed at me like that.
After a short while, she opened her eyes and looked me up and down.
“All done,” she said with a proud look.
“What?” I asked, looking at my hooves and legs. “I don't seem any different.”
“Not to yourself, of course,” she explained, rolling her eyes. “But trust me...”
Trixie disappeared in a flash of light. Shortly afterwards, she reappeared with another one, the mirror I had seen upstairs now suspended mid-air beside her. Looking into it, I saw a darker version of myself. My eyes were nearly pitch black. Looking down, my own hooves seemed completely fine, yet those of my reflection were worn and jagged. My horn was also gone, and my cutie mark was now a disorderly bunch of small stars scattered about.
“I know how to cast an illusion spell,” she finished.
“Incredible,” I mumbled.
“I am, am I not?” she chortled.
Her girlish giggling was interrupted by a noise from outside. Trixie's ears twitched and she ran to the window, leaning out into the darkness. She then pulled back inside and shot me an urging look.
“They're outside,” she said. “Ready?”
“Give me a second,” I replied.
For all our joking around, the situation in Horsmouth was no laughing matter. Lightening the mood during the day was one thing, but now that the moment had arrived, I knew needed to be prepared, both mentally and physically.
The cup of tea I had left on the table floated to my mouth. Quickly downing the last drops, I sent it back to the table again. I then closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Looking at Trixie, I exhaled.
“Now I'm ready.”