//------------------------------//
// Marrow Escape 
// Story: Misadventures of Trixie 
// by Tau22 
//------------------------------//

Travelling to more remote towns was always a bit of a chore. Sure, the audience was always welcoming and generous, but the journey there, och! Between uncharted paths, roads fallen into disrepair and even dangerous beasties, there was no shortage of arguments against such a trek. The land was often an obstacle in and of itself, with swamps, treacherous hills and even a solitary desert standing in a would-be traveller's way.

The San Palomino Desert was something of an anomaly when compared to the rest of Equestria. Located in the very south of the land, it was home to several mountain ranges which prevented most rainfall from reaching it. A land of barren, dry plains and scorching heat, but also a land of great wealth. Those willing to dig under the surface found the soil rich in valuable metals and gemstones.

Several mining colonies had been set up for the sole purpose of their retrieval and were handsomely supplied by ever-grateful mine owners. Visitors to the San Palomino usually travelled with these supply caravans, for added protection. For no matter how unforgiving the desert was, some creatures still found a way to live in it.

All these thoughts and more raced through the showpony's mind as she traversed the endless wastes. Her breathing was heavy as she desperately tried to ventilate in the heat. Two days of aimless, panicked walking had done no good. She was still in the same spot where she had been separated during the sandstorm. In the middle of nowhere.

Her modest supply of water had run out long ago. Too long. What little shade her hat provided could not hope to protect her against the wrathful rays of the sun, nor could her cape negate the bone-chilling cold of the night. Images of distant lands and objects flickered at the edge of her vision, the remainder of it more blurry by the minute.

She tripped on a crack in the earth and fell on her side. With the last bits of strength remaining, she tried to get up, only to falter. With the sun still mercilessly gazing upon her, she finally drifted out of consciousness. Hardly a fitting end.

******

Trixie woke. Perhaps most surprisingly, she did not see long-dead friends or enemies, but a rather fashionable, crimson curtain. The air was pleasantly cool. She lay on a bed, her clothes folded neatly on a nearby nightstand, both items made of fine, polished wood. She could hear steps beyond the curtain, along with some incoherent mumbling. She mustered her courage and called out:
"H-hello?"
The muttering stopped immediately, though it seemed the other performed some actions beyond the curtain. Finally, he responded, in a rather high-pitched voice:
"Ah, I see our patient is back among the living."

The curtain was pushed to the side and she stared at a peculiar figure. Wrapped from head to hoof in an elaborate robe, the stallion's face was hidden behind a strange, multicoloured mask. Not a single inch of him was visible, save perhaps, for his horn, which was of a golden hue. He spoke once more:
"You are fortunate. An hour or two more and we would have found you too late. How do you feel?"
"As fine as can be, I suppose."
"No pain or other discomfort?"
"No."

His head moved as if to sigh, yet no air coursed through the room. Retrieving a small bottle from a nearby table, he handed it to her. The water within was crystal clear, cool to the touch. A gift from heaven. Without even waiting for a prompt, she took a big gulp. At that moment, it felt like the greatest beverage in the world.

"You must stay hydrated, even here. The air lacks moisture."
"I will keep that in mind. And sorry if this comes off blunt, but who are you?"
"Shariq will do. And yourself?"
"Trixie."
"It is a pleasure, dear Trixie."
"How can I repay you for, well... everything?"
"It is the least we could do. No debts incurred."
"In that case," slowly, she slid off the bed, her legs still a bit weak, and looked where she presumed the eyes would be behind the mask, "may I see the face of a most kind and generous pony?" 

Something stirred in the room. Her horn tingled, reacting to the sudden shift of ambient magic. Shariq looked away and replied:
"You should be careful what you wish for. Perhaps you would wish to rest a bit more beforehand?"
She shot him her warmest smile, taught by the Element of Laughter herself:
"If you are hiding wounds, I understand."
"I wish I was," again, the sigh with no breath, "bah, might as well get it over with. Do you promise not to scream?"
She nodded:
"I promise."

The magic of the room seemed to calm down a bit. His hooves reached for the mask. They were dry, their colour faded. Slowly, he slid it off and her heart skipped a few beats. Where she had expected fur, or skin, there was nothing but bone. A skeletal visage stared at her, the bones weathered with years. What was even stranger, however, was the cloud of golden dust that floated within his skull.

Her first instinct was to flinch and then gallop for safety, but she managed to contain herself, somehow, and even kept her promise. She straightened herself and looked him in the eye sockets:
"Well, I umm... didn't quite expect that."
Shariq tilted his head:
"You and me both," his jaw did not move during speech, "usually, the patient starts running by now. They're all so dead serious about the whole ordeal."
She tried to stiffen a chuckle, to no avail. Had that been intentional? She had to be sure:
"Would you say there were many of these neigh-sayers?"
His cackle did not require any air, either:
"Oh-hoh, quite! And they were missing out. I can be quite humerus."
"Och, you should stop ribbing on them so hard."
"Throw me a bone here, I never get to reap any gratitude!"

Finally, they both burst out laughing. Humour, the ultimate icebreaker. Trixie was at a distinct disadvantage, however, as she had to breathe to keep laughing. As soon as she started gasping for air, Shariq stopped and allowed her to recover. He then knelt on his front legs and bowed his head:
"Gratitude and appreciation for a fellow punsmith."
She mimicked his actions:
"And the same to you, good sir!"

******

Finally, the two made their way outside, Trixie in full attire. The place was unlike anything she had seen before. They seemed to be inside of a mountain, but completely hollowed out, with the sun peeking in though strategically placed slits and holes. The structures she saw were elaborately decorated with carvings, shaped from the mountain's own rock rather than actually built, and stretched for at least a mile in every direction. The streets, however, were properly paved.

The only other constant were the livid dead. Unicorns of all shapes and sizes walked through the streets, the only distinction between them being the colour of their horns, which matched the arcane dust swirling within. Most were clothed, though some did not bother with such implements, perhaps seeing them as a waste of time.

"Welcome to Kost," Shariq motioned with his hoof, "the Kingdom of Marrow."
"It is most certainly a sight unlike any other."
"Quite so. The inhabitants, especially, I imagine."
A few passers-by gave them slight bows as they passed. There were so many questions on her mind, so she asked the first:
"How many?"
"Nearing three thousand now and growing, I am afraid."
"Why?"

He looked at her, then back at the city, before he started walking. She followed, ponies bowing as they passed, and he started speaking:
"We call it the Restless Curse. It affects all unicorns of a certain level of magic, should they meet their end within the San Palomino. Afterwards, they rise, animated by their own gifts. We make sure they end up in Kost. It has become something of a refuge for our kind."
"How long has this been happening?"
"Many centuries. I, myself, was among the first to rise. We do not know what in the San Palomino causes this phenomenon and we have been trying to find out ever since the beginning. To either prevent it or put a stop to it. Fruitlessly, so far."
"Eternity is a long while, I take it?"
"You could say that. We lead lives as normal as possible. But the years are not kind. Even those who were initially enthusiastic eventually saw the error in their thinking. Nothing ever changes. Rest is never within reach," he shook his head, "but these are our problems, no need to trouble you with them."
"Others know about this place, however," they met gazes, so to speak, "I saw the furniture in your home. Wood like that does not grow for hundreds of miles."
"You have a keen eye, Trixie. Select few know, from the upper echelons of Equestria and other countries, plus those necessary to enact the trades."
"Trades?"
"The San Palomino is rich, for those who can dig. And one of the perks of being a risen abomination from beyond the grave," he would have said it with a smirk if he could have, she was sure, "is that safety precautions go out the window. We can dig deeper, with less lighting, in water, you name it. Why, this one time, a group of miners dug themselves out while we were still preparing a rescue effort."

Her lingering questions were of a more practical or personal nature:
"I'm sorry if this sounds strange, but why are you so cheerful?"
"Your full question would also include, 'despite living in an endless purgatory inside of a hollow mountain', correct?"
"Yes, I suppose it would."
"You should have seen the first decade. I was a wreck. Hopeless, with no motivation. Then, I found my calling. To aid others who have passed into this state of being. And to never let them get as down as I was. It's hard enough being like this, I reasoned, without some spineless stallion making it even worse."
"I feel you and me see eye-to-socket," he reacted with a chuckle, "I changed my life for the better, as well."
"The best thing one can do. For the sake of the others, if nothing else."
"Speaking of others, and I'd hate for this to sound insensitive..."
"Come on, I've been making bone-related puns for half an hour now. Ask away."
"As you wish. How do you, well, tell each other apart? I see the horn colour remains, and seems to influence the dust, but..."

He came to a sudden halt and chuckled for just a fraction of a moment. Then, he stood in front of her and 'looked' into her eyes:
"Your senses are well and good, but in this matter, they blind you. Tell me, do you ever just close your eyes and listen to the world?"
"Surprisingly often, actually."
"Good. Do that for me now," with a smile, she did as she was told, "now, what do you hear and feel?"

She told him everything she could make out. Distant conversations, whispers, laughter. Two metallic objects clashing together further down the street, a friendly game of dice just behind her back. The sounds of life. A light wind blew against her mane.
"Now, I want you to concentrate. Phase out the sound. Ignore the breeze. Leave only your final sense."

She must have stood there for a good minute before it finally clicked. The talking and laughter faded, replaced by several distinct, clearly identifiable currents of raw magic. The metalworker was a mare, standing proudly amidst her work. The players reacted warmly to each other, in a bond of friendship. Shariq felt... timeless. His magic had bits of everything wrapped into its whole. Overcome with the new sensations, she blurted out:
"You're old," immediately, she snapped out of her trance and covered her mouth, "sorry, I didn't...!
"Hahah, calm down, friend! I, of all ponies, know that much! You saw how we see. Though, a little bit of vision magic never hurt, either. Now come, our destination is not too far."

A few paved streets later, it finally came into view. The building was much larger than all those surrounding it, its walls decorated with the Kost's main export, gems of all colours and sizes. In the distance, a strange tower stood tall, radiating arcane energy. The showpony spoke, pointing at the gemmed building:
"That's where the council you mentioned sits, I presume."
"Yes, those are the chambers of the Awakened Council, headed by the Grand Vizier."
"Is there something to that title?"
"Truthfully, no. We found it in a dictionary and thought it sounded nice. A fancy word for a fancy post."
"Practical."
"Quite."
"And the tower?"
"That marks the Sleepless Archives, buried in the mountain. We keep the results of our research within."
"Does everything have to have a name that reminds you of your condition?"
He shrugged:
"Keeps you on your hooves."

She sighed:
"Okay, before we get there, tell me how this whole vow of silence works."
"It is less of a vow, more of an enchantment. It prevents a pony from speaking or otherwise indicating that the city and, by extent, we, exist. For our safety."
"Better safe than sorry, I suppose."
"Many fear what they do not understand. Some ponies are just afraid of walking skeletons."
"Heheh, when you put it that way. Let's get it over with, shall we?"
"No objections or last-minute second thoughts?"
"Not today, friend. I can well imagine the possible repercussions."
"Your determination is second only to your compassion. Let's go, then."

They did not make it far, a dozen steps at most, before disaster struck. A nearby building simply burst asunder, chunks of wall raining down on the street. She gazed in panic as one such piece of debris headed for her, before she was unceremoniously shoved aside. The crack of bone filled the street as her companion was crushed beneath it.
"Shariq!" she cried out and rushed to him. Several other locals were already helping clear the debris.
To her slight surprise, his skull turned up to her and he replied in a tone as normal as if he was talking about breakfast:
"I'm fine, I'm fine. If this was all it took to get rid of us, we wouldn't be here anymore. But," suddenly, his tone shifted, "who in the hay?!"

She followed his gaze and her eyes went wide. A distinctly equine figure floated in the air above the destroyed structure, surrounded by an azure ball of arcane energy. Without another thought, the pony shot through the air and headed straight for the tower in the distance. Shariq shouted, desperation clear in his voice:
"The archive! Quick, get the guards, we could lose centuries of progress! Trixie, please stay," he looked around and scanned for her magic, yet she was nowhere nearby, "Trixie?"

Rapid flashes of violet energy surrounded her as she teleported from roof to roof, avoiding the panicked civilians in the streets. The fireball was still ahead, but she was gaining on it. She could not believe it. No, she didn't believe it. It wasn't her. It couldn't be her.

******

"Would our semi-finalists please step into the ring? Everyone, please give an applause for Trixie Lulamoon," she waved at the audience, obviously nervous, as she took her designated spot in the duellist ring, "and Nova Strike!"

The dark green filly seemed much less enthused than during her previous duels, as well. Gone was the smug grin, replaced by grim determination. 

The two friends stared at each other, not even caring about the announcer repeating the rules for the umpteenth time, or the semi-excited audience. It was just the two of them, best friends. Strike spoke first:
"Still not too late to back down, Trixie."
"I signed up and I intend to do my best, Nova."
"Good, because I'm not gonna' go easy on you."
The announcer finally came through:
"Fillies, ready your magic!"

They assumed combat stances. In theory, it wouldn't last long. The first one to get knocked to the ground twice would lose. Simple. In theory.

******

With a final teleport mid-leap, she appeared at the top of the tower. Two skeletal guards, their armour painted pure white, lay on the ground, literally in pieces. One spoke, though could not offer any other input:
"She went down. Stop her, please."

She galloped down the nearby staircase like a mare possessed, shouting at the top of her lungs. She reached its end, a long, narrow hallway still within the tower. At the other end, near another such staircase, stood an all-too-familiar mare. Her coat and mane were still the same shades of dark green and azure, yet even from a distance, she could see something new. The similarly azure, wild flame of her cutie mark.

The two ponies stared at each other, not even caring about the audible commotion outside, or the possibility of anyone else being inside, still. It was just the two of them, former friends. Strike spoke first:
"Well, well, well. If it isn't little Trixie. Come to ruin my life again?"
"Only if you try to kill me again."
"Hmph," she took a step forward and Trixie mimicked her, "none of it would have happened had you just backed down."
"Just so you could have everything like you wanted, as always? What are you trying to pull here, Nova?"

Strike leaned against the wall and gazed at one of her hooves, seemingly disinterested:
"Oh, just a little friendly payback. You of all ponies know how that goes, I hear."
"What did these ponies ever do to you?"
"Apart from being a bunch of monsters who forced a silence curse on me? Not much, I guess you're right. Miss Lulamoon could never be wrong."
The showpony stomped with her front hooves:
"Stop this! Right now."
"Or else what? You're gonna' stop me?"
Their eyes narrowed as she replied:
"Yes."
"We'll see about that."

Nova's lips curled into a wicked grin as azure energy gathered around her body.

******

The duel was positively nerve-wracking. The first round had, perhaps predictably, ended with Trixie knocked down. In the second, however, she had made a comeback and managed to slip a good strike between Strike's defences. And the third round was taking much too long.

Both fillies fired off idle magical attacks, while blocking their opponent's. To a more practised magic user, the fight would have seemed cute, adorable, but for them, it was everything. Panting heavily, neither seemed ready to back down. Strike launched a barrage of attacks with a shout, but Trixie managed to keep standing and earned herself a shout:
"Just go down already!"
"It won't be, hah, that easy!"
"We'll see about that!" her voice was filled with rage.

Trixie immediately knew something was wrong as a strange field of azure energy surrounded the other filly. With a shout, it was released and she put all of her strength into the defensive spell. It was shattered like a twig and the shockwave hit her hard, sending her flying through the air until she met a wall. The last thing she heard before blacking out was:
"What were you thinking, Strike?!"

******

The tower's side exploded as Strike barrelled her way through. Trixie appeared on a nearby roof with a flash and gazed up at her opponent. Nova did not waste any time and tried to ram her once more, but again, the showpony managed to get to safety. The building was not as fortunate. An annoyed shout came:
"Stand still!"
"Not likely."

A sidestep resulted in a patch of pavement next to her literally melting under Strike's attack. Such was their game of cat and mouse. Or perhaps timberwolf and pony? Whichever was applicable, both unicorns darted around the area with their magic, one constantly on the defence, dodging and avoiding, the other executing a series of all-out attacks. After a few such fruitless charges, the dark green aggressor came to a sudden halt. A small crowd was gathering in their surroundings, and she pointed at them:
"Why?! Why do you side with these monsters?!"
"They've been nothing but kind to me, unlike some ponies I know! Besides, what gives you the right to judge?!"
"I'm not a freak," she crossed her forelegs, "and what gave them the right to put a bucking spell on me, huh?!"
"Funny you should say that," her eyes narrowed, "since you're providing perfect examples of what could go wrong otherwise."
"Shut up! You and your Celestia-damned attitude. I've had just about enough of it," the energy around her suddenly grew to nearly thrice its original size, "I'll burn this entire city if I have to! Starting with you!"

For a moment, she flinched from the raw power on display. Mustering courage, she closed her eyes, felt the raw arcane might in front of her... and all around. Her eyes shot open and she shouted back:
"Do your worst!"
"Don't worry, I will!"

With that, Strike charged, scorching everything in her path. The showpony readied a defensive spell, not too different from the one so many years ago. An illusory shield accompanied it, created subconsciously, unwittingly. It began as pure violet, but before long, dozens and hundreds more colours joined within, colouring parts of it like some chaotic heraldry. She closed her eyes once more. Power flowed in from every direction as the ponies of Kost lent her aid. It was now or never.

The magics clashed in a spectacular display of blinding light, consuming the entire city for a few moments. Once the light faded and the dust settled, the shield shone brightly amidst a fair amount of damage. The skeletal citizens all around allowed themselves a cheer. She remained serious as she took a few steps forward.

Nova's glare was much the same as on that day, though she was obviously fighting to even stand:
"You... ruined everything. Again."
"No, Nova. As always, you ruined it for yourself," her horn started glowing, "I do believe it's time for some friendly payback. You know how it goes."

The attack spell was as simple as back in the day, just a bit amplified. In her state, Nova could not hope to block it and was knocked to the ground, slipping out of consciousness soon afterwards.

******

She stood nervously in front of the Sanctum of Knowledge, a fancy name for a fancy room within the chambers of the Awakened Council. She wasn't nervous because of the eight guard ponies in white armour, though they were intimidating, to be sure. She was nervous because Shariq said he'd be there, to put in a word in her favour. She wasn't sure how much good something like that would do, but not having to go inside the room alone would have been enough, really.

Finally, the ornate door in front of her was opened. Another guard pony ushered her in with a deep bow. The room was dark, illuminated only by a dozen or so candles, strategically placed to allow maximum ominous shadow, she imagined. The council sat there on large, decorated thrones, all thirteen of them. The largest, middle one, belonged undoubtedly to the Grand Vizier, with his elaborate, fancy headdress and... golden horn. She blinked rapidly for a few moments, then closed her eyes, just to be sure. Yup.

Shariq rose from the largest throne and spoke, his tone uncannily serious:

"Mares and Stallions of the Awakened Council, we have gathered here today, in theory, to receive this brave mare's vow of silence," the other councillors nodded, "though, on this particular day, I believe we may have come here for nothing. I took it upon myself to evaluate her today. She is a kind, compassionate soul. Scarred in places, but unbroken, she is able to see under the skin," at that, one of councillors cackled, setting off a chain reaction, "and see a pony for who they are, instead of what. Her actions today clearly illustrate that she is willing to stand in defence of complete strangers, without a second thought for her own safety. In light of these qualities, I am assured beyond a doubt that our secret is safe with her, with or without some finicky spell. I hereby declare my vote against."
"Hear, hear," one of the mares bumped her forelegs against her throne, "to Trixie Lulamoon!"
One by one, they joined into a shout:
"To Trixie!"

She couldn't help but smile.

******

The afternoon sun rose on the horizon, over the endless rock of the San Palomino Desert. A distinctly foreign carriage waited not too far, towed by two pegasi clad in the colours of the Canterlot royal guard. The dark green assailant was already inside, her hooves and horn both bound by magic. A tall, white pony, his armour especially decorated, stepped closer to her:
"We are ready to leave, Miss Lulamoon."
"I will be right there, sir Armour."

He bowed and headed for the carriage. Such a handsome stallion, that captain. Skilled unicorn, privy to certain information thanks to his post, and even happily married to a princess. Quite the perks, really. She turned back to her own companion with a faint smile.

Shariq was back in his casual attire and only alone because he insisted he knew how to find the exit without a platoon of guards at his side. He took one glance at the carriage, then met her gaze:
"Again, I'm sorry for the deception."
"Oh, stop it. I must say, you looked a bit silly in that headdress. Doesn't suit your chiselled features at all."
"I know! But it is tradition at this point," he sighed, "we're both just not saying goodbye at this point."
"True. I want to say goodbye for now," she winked at him, "I'd love to come back and put on a performance sometime."
"That would be a welcome change of pace and I'd definitely attend. Just a shame I'm... well, stuck here. I'd love to travel with a mare like you."
She blushed slightly and replied, teasingly:
"You think your old bones could keep up?"
"They've seen worse. Haah, if only I had a bit of muscle, maybe even my mane and..."

His train of thought ended there as she planted a light kiss on the tip of his muzzle. Their gazes met once again afterwards:
"No matter what you look like, you're great the way you are, Shariq."
For the first time, he was at a loss for words, but finally formed a sentence:
"I'll remember this moment for the remainder of my days."
"That could be a while. Are you ready for that sort of commitment?"
"I've never backed down from a challenge."

They shared one last chuckle, then shared their last words:
"Goodbye for now, friend."
"Goodbye for now, friend."

******

Sitting in the carriage was uncomfortable, overall. Oh, the seats were exquisite, clearly fit for even a royal behind. It was the constant, unending glare Nova was sending her. She kept telling herself it wouldn't take much longer as she turned to the handsome stallion:
"Captain Armour?"
"Yes?"
"Would it be possible to drop me off at Ponyville? I could go for a relaxing cup of tea with a friend."
"I don't blame you, truly. And it won't be a problem, it is on the way, after all."
"Thank you."

She gazed outside, at the endless wastes below. What a day.