> The Time Has Come
>  by Commissar Rarity
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Hidden Past
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

 
 
 The bar was dark and empty, save for a lone figure sitting in a booth to the side. Her hair was long and a pretty shade of soft blueish-white. She gazed with her purple eyes into the now-empty bottle and sighed.
 
 With a quick gesture, she beckoned the bartender over, hand dispelling the still-thick smoke. The bartender walked over, rubbing his hands with the cloth he had been using to wipe down the counter. He was a hulking seraph, snow-white wings folded back.
 
 “I think you’ve had enough,” he rumbled, snatching the bottle from her hands. “After all, you’ve been in here for–”
 
 There was a knock on the door. The bartender sighed, and bade her to wait. Stomping over to the door, he pried it open a hair, and peered out.
 
 “We’re closed–”
 
 The door burst open, knocking the seraph insensate. A griffon flew in, screeching a warcry. It skidded to a stop in front of the booth with the girl.
 
 “Flock off, featherbrain,” the girl said. “I’m not in the mood for a fight.”
 
 “And here I was thinking you were great and powerful.” The griffon peered at her with a yellow eye. Snarling, it brought a fist crashing down on the table. It broke in half with a raucous noise, splinters flying into the air.
 
 The girl jumped out of the booth, somehow snapping out of her drunken daze and doing a flip. She slid to a halt, and flipped some hair out of her eyes. “Like I said, flock off.”
 
 “Nice moves,” the griffon said, applauding. “You really are a Lulamoon.”
 
 Trixie Lulamoon sniffed disdainfully. “And what of it?”
 
 The griffon wrung its claws, and let out a whistle. “Oh, maybe the Lulamoon tradition of being demon slayers. I may be in need of a demon slayer.”

 Trixie frowned, but didn’t say anything. She brushed aside her navy blue coat, keeping one hand close to the magical catalyst that hung from her side, ready for another attack. Finally, pursing her lips, she spoke. “I’m not a demon slayer. I’m a drunk who used to be somebody.”
 
 The griffon sighed, and scratched its head with a claw. “Well, I’m afraid it’s come to this.” With one swift gesture, it withdrew a sword from a scabbard on its back and flung it at Trixie.
 
 The blade struck home, neatly piercing Trixie’s stomach. Blood sprayed from her back, and Trixie’s mouth opened in a surprised O. She stood for a moment, clutching at the sword. Then she collapsed backwards, head striking the wood floor hard.
 
 
 There was a pregnant pause before the griffon slowly approached Trixie’s corpse. She hadn’t wanted it to end like this. She sighed, and reached for the sword. Trixie obviously wasn’t a true Lulamoon, otherwise–
 
 The thought never reached its conclusion as a burst of purple magic knocked the griffon backwards into the already destroyed booth.
 
 Trixie rose from the floor, smoking catalyst in one hand, the other hand perched on the pommel of the sword that still protruded from her body. Putting the catalyst back in its holster, Trixie grabbed the sword’s hilt with both hands and pulled it free. Her blood dripped from the blade, which trembled in her grasp. She had no idea her blood was so bright. Or that so much could exist in one small body.
 
 She dropped the sword, and threw up. The putrid vomit mixed with the red of the blood and the resulting viscera made Trixie want to purge herself again. She was about to when she felt a now–familiar claw on her shoulder.
 
 Looking up, she saw the griffon, who extended a claw. Trixie took the claw and stood up on shaky legs.
 
 “I was wrong,” the griffon said. “You really are a Lulamoon. Nobody else could take a sword to the stomach and come back.”
 
 “What in Tartarus does that mean?”

 “Oh, man.” The griffon didn’t sound pleased. “You don’t know? Ugh, I hate exposition but I guess I can give ya the short version.
 
“You – Lulamoon girl. Lulamoons – fight demons. Demon hunters blessed by Celestia. Special magics. Prolonged life and stuff. Therefore, you – demon hunter. Which means I need you.”
 
 Trixie shook her head. “We were travelling magicians, not demon hunters.”
 
 “Well it skips a generation. Look, I’m Griselda and I need your help. A castle, my home, in my homeland of Gryph has been overrun by demons, and the only demon hunter bloodline left is yours. You’re our last hope.”
 
 “Yeah, well I’m about to be no hope. I’m a stage magician, not a – not a demon hunter, or whatever you think I am.”
 
 Griselda’s face fell somehow, beak defying logic and forming a frown. “Trixie, please reconsider–”
 
 “Nope,” Trixie said, still cradling her stomach. “I’m just a small town girl. Nothing I can do.” With that, she kicked open the ajar door, and ran out of the bar, leaving Griselda and the unconscious bartender behind.
 

***

 
 Trixie sat atop her wagon, legs hanging off the side. In her mouth hung a limp cigarette, smoke drifting off into the night. She took the cigarette out and blew a smoke dragon. It slithered away, dissipating in the distance.
                                                          
 She couldn’t get her mind off the griffon. Sure, they were brutish, stupid animals that had the gall to talk like people… But still, that poor girl’s home was gone to demons now. And if what she said was true, Trixie had to power to right that wrong.
 
 Coughing, Trixie flicked the cigarette stub away. She hated the things, but had become addicted to them since her little incident with the alicorn amulet. The thought of the amulet’s wet presence in her mind made her shudder and close her eyes in terror at the memory.
 
 “Excuse me?”
 
 Trixie shrieked, and fell off the wagon, landing face-down in the dirt. With an annoyed grunt, she raised her head out of the dirt and spat out a clod of mud. “You again.”
 
 “Yeah.” A sheepish Griselda rubbed the back of her head. “I was hoping you’d changed your mind.”
 
 Trixie almost replied in the negative, but something held her back. Frowning, she stood up and leaned against the wagon. “You say my family’s some kind of demon hunting family?”
 
 “Well, yeah,” Griselda said. “In fact my sword belonged to your grandmother. When they left the mountains of Prussia, she left it in my family’s care. I don’t know why, but she said to give it to you.”
 
 The blue-haired girl frowned. The gift of foresight was common in the Lulamoon family, but not to such an extent. Still, it was possible. Stranger things have happened, she thought.
 
 Still frowning, Trixie held out a hand. The griffon unclipped the scabbard from her back, and offered it to Trixie. She took it and withdrew the sword in one fluid motion. It would be child’s play to see if it had been used by a Lulamoon.
 
 Taking out her catalyst, Trixie tapped it several times against the top of the hilt. A few sparks flew out, scattering across the length of the blade. Purple electricity arced along the edge, down the hilt, and into Trixie’s hand.
                                                 
 The magician gritted her teeth, trying to fight her way through the pain the memory spell was causing. It felt like a handful of grimgoblin miners were picking away at the front of her skull. After a few tear-filled moments, the pain vanished, and Trixie was left gritting her teeth and gripping the sword and catalyst tightly.
 
  Tilting her head back to allow the memories flow better, Trixie closed her eyes and let them wash over her.
 
 She could see a faint figure wielding the sword against dark shadows. Squinting her inner eye, Trixie could make out more of the figure. Long blue-white hair… glowing purple eyes… The hallmarks of a Lulamoon, alright.
 
 A massive shadow blotted out the rest of the memories, sending the memory of her grandmother fleeing. Trixie felt her breath catch – her actual breath, not the simulacrum of a breath that existed in the memories. The shadow was gigantic and formless, some sort of beast from deep below Tartarus. The shadow turned towards her, and she saw a brief glimpse of a horrible face, indescribable in form. Two faint green eyes twinkled at her–
 
–And Trixie stumbled back with a strangled cry, dropping the gnarled catalyst and the sword on the ground. Her heart pounded, and she put a hand on her bosom, breathing deeply to calm herself. Her mind was still reeling from the shock of the shadow’s appearance. It had seen her in the memories. Memories weren’t supposed to do that – they were supposed to be simple things, dumb things!
 
 She coughed, and straightened herself, glancing sheepishly at Griselda. “Sorry about that. You know how magic is.”
 
 “No.”
 
 Trixie chuckled at the griffon’s bluntness. “Well… you’re right. It does belong to someone in my family, but…”
 
 But I can’t take this job went unspoken, not by choice. Trixie found her tongue tied. She made an effort to get the words out, but nothing emerged from her mouth.
 
 You really should, came a quiet voice from the back of her mind. Surprisingly, Trixie found herself agreeing with it. Whatever memories from her ancestor that had crossed over to her were making themselves known, strong-arming her into accepting.
 
 “But of course I can rescue your castle.” Trixie blinked in surprise at the words coming out of her mouth. She raised a hand to cover her mouth as the shock set in. It wasn’t her that had spoken; it was her ancestor that had spoken for her. She shivered at the thought, heart heavy with dread. What if the ancestor decided to do that more often?
 
 “Thank you!” crowed the griffon, embracing Trixie in a tight hug. Trixie squirmed, trying to avoid ripping her good clothes on Griselda’s claws.
 
 “Please refrain from hugging the Great and Powerful Trixie until after she saves the castle, will you?”
 

***

 
 “The castle is called Fortnight,” said the gruff griffon colonel, peering out at the mountains far beneath them. The airship rumbled quietly to itself in the background. “It was the first capital of the Griffin Republic, before it was moved to the Castle Altair deeper inside Prussia.
 
 “They say King Fortesque performed many occult rituals in the depths of Fortnight, calling forth devils from Tartarus. If so, the veil between our world and Tartarus would be thin indeed, which would explain why the demons were able to capture it so easily. It’s entirely possible occultists are living there as well. You will need to be on guard at all times. There’s no telling where attacks may come from.
 
 “However, in two days, the army will use their mortars to shell Fortnight to the ground to prevent demons from escaping if you don’t cleanse it.”
 
 “Oh, fantastic. Anything else Griselda forgot to tell me?” Trixie asked.
 
 “Yes, take this grimoire. When you encounter a demon or monster, consult the grimoire and it will likely have an entry on it.”
 
 Trixie accepted the grimoire wordlessly. Her red kerchief blew into her face briefly as a strong gust of wind rocked the airship.
 
 Below them lay the castle Fortnight, and its harsh denizens.
 
 Trixie knew, in her heart, that she wasn’t ready. But here she was. She rubbed where the scabbard met her back. Her ancestor’s sword would protect her.
 
 “When you’re done, use your magic to signal us and we’ll come by and pick you up. This is a solo mission,” said the colonel. “Any questions?”
 
 Trixie shook her head.
 
 The colonel nodded. “If need be we’ll contact you via your crystal necklace.” Trixie glanced down at the necklace they had given her. The crystal was milky white and plain. “Only you can hear what we have to say. We shouldn’t have to contact you, though.
 
 “Are you ready?” he asked.
 
 “Ready as I’ll ever be,” Trixie said, pulling her dark blue coat tighter around her. “Might as well get this over with.”
 
 The colonel produced a large backpack. “This is an army-issue parachute. You use this strap to release the chute. Glide down to the castle and contact us when you land.” He saluted her. “The future of Prussia is in your hands. Now go!”
 
 Trixie gulped. The time had come. With help from the colonel, she put the parachute over her sword, and the two made their way to the outer ring of the airship. The wind was bitter cold and biting. Trixie winced as a particularly brutal gust hit her.
 
 Trixie grabbed the railing, and looked below her. Castle Fortnight was there, waiting for her, an obsidian gauntlet of evil. She glanced over at the colonel, who simply nodded. Trixie closed her eyes and swung herself over the rail.


> Roar of Anger
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

 
 
 Trixie hit the ground running. She slipped off the parachute, letting it drop to the stone floor before skidding to a stop, as the castle ramparts had crumbled ahead. Peering over the side, she saw a sharp drop to the courtyard below.
 
 She backed up, and stared across at the other side of the ramparts. It wasn’t too far – she could probably make it with enough speed. Or a bit of magic.
 
 Trixie walked back a few yards, and turned to face the broken rampart. With a wave of her catalyst, she broke into a run, magically enhanced legs moving faster than the eye could see. As she reached the edge, she leapt forward. To her surprise, she barely managed to land on the other side. Extending both arms to the side, she took a ginger step forward, trying to keep her balance.
 
 A few steps later, she found she was safely away from the edge. Sighing in relief, Trixie surveyed the landscape. There was a tower directly ahead, about five hundred feet away. Below her was the courtyard to the castle Fortnight. She couldn’t tell from how far up she was, but it looked taken care of surprisingly well. If only such care had been applied to the castle walls…
 
 A rumble cut into her thoughts. Trixie glanced upwards. A wall of black clouds covered the sky. She had seen them on the horizon in the airship, but they hadn’t seemed so threatening when they were below her.
 
 As Trixie approached the tower, she noticed a gargoyle perched on the tower. Her stride slowed, and she squinted at the gargoyle. It was a typical statue, grey with green moss growing on it. Two swept-back horns, a long tail ending in a stinger, and a poleaxe clutched with all four of its hands.
 
 Without warning, the gargoyle stretched its wings, stone crumbling down on her head. It leapt off the tower, and came crashing down on the ramparts behind her. Trixie spun around, and the gargoyle turned towards her with a growl. She could see that what she had thought was moss was actually the monster’s skin.
 
 “A human,” it growled. “Another one. And this one such a tasty morsel.”
 
 “I guess I am pretty tasty,” Trixie bit back, trying to suppress the beating of her heart. “I am a pretty girl after all.”
 
 The gargoyle ignored her repartee, and took a step towards her, releasing its lower arms to walk on them. “The others I couldn’t kill, but there’s nothing stopping me from killing you.”
 
 Trixie smirked, and as the gargoyle stopped only a few inches away from her, she rapped on its head. “Just as I thought, empty. Don’t you see this sword? Don’t you recognise it?”
 
 It recoiled with a hiss. “The sword of moonlight! You are the daughter of Patrice!”
 
“Granddaughter,” corrected Trixie. She grabbed the hilt, and flicked the sword out of its scabbard, catching it neatly before leaning it against her shoulder. “Come on, blockhead. Try me.”
 
 With an angry roar, the gargoyle swung its poleaxe in a sweeping motion. Trixie swung her sword, and the two clashed. Trixie’s enchanted blade soon overpowered the stone pole-arm, and she sent it flying to the side. The gargoyle roared again, and he sounded even angrier. He stabbed at her with his stinger.

 Trixie leapt to side, but the stinger struck her in the shoulder. It snapped off, and she tumbled into the rampart walls. With a grimace, she ripped the stinger out. It hurt just about as much as ripping the sword out of her chest, but it seemed to linger more. Poison, no doubt.
 
 During this time, the gargoyle had grabbed his poleaxe again, and was attacking. Trixie sidestepped the attack and gave a broad shrug. The gargoyle roared yet again, and this time he definitely wasn’t pleased. He raised the pole-arm and brought it down to smash her. She charged forward, aiming at his arms with the moonlight sword.
 
 To her surprise, the tip of the blade struck home, and drove deep within the gargoyle’s upper arm. She tore it free, breaking the arm off completely. Chunks of stone fell to the ground along with the disembodied arm.
 
 With a pained groan, the gargoyle backed off. He inhaled, and spat out a fireball. In a panic, Trixie brought her sword up in a quick motion. The fireball somehow bounced off the sword, and struck the gargoyle in the chest. More stone crumbled from his body, and he stumbled backwards in pain.
 
 Trixie smiled, and brought her foot back, kicking open the twin doors to the tower. “Let’s play inside now,” she said as she leapt backwards.
 
 The gargoyle actually threw his pole-axe at her. Trixie let her balance falter, and fell to the ground, narrowly avoiding the stone blade. Picking herself off the floor, she could see the gargoyle running at her on all five limbs. With a quick back flip, Trixie landed on the polearm, extending her arms to maintain balance.
 
 She jumped up to avoid the gargoyle’s rush, and landed on the tip of the pole-axe’s shaft. The stone blade flew up, burying itself in the gargoyle’s chest. As the gargoyle’s tail flailed about, Trixie took aim and swung at it. Her blade tore through the tail like paper, severing it in two.
 
 The gargoyle ripped the pole-arm’s blade out of his chest. Unlike the other blows that had broken his exterior shell, this wound dripped a thick black ichor that smoked as it made contact with the stone flooring.
 
 Trixie spun her blade, and examined her nails as the gargoyle righted himself. He brought the poleaxe smashing down again, but Trixie was ready for him. She bounced off the shaft of the pole-arm, and landed on his back. With two strokes, she cut off the monster’s wings.
 
 “All flights cancelled,” she said, bringing the sword down. It bounced off the thick stone on his back, upsetting her balance. She fell off the back of the gargoyle, striking the stone floor hard. The moonlight sword fell out of her hands, tumbling away.
 
 The gargoyle seemed to smile, and it grabbed her with its remaining arms.
 
 “Now I crush you and eat your bones,” hissed the gargoyle.
 
 Trixie froze in panic, eyes widening. She had been doing so well before! And now she was going to end up food for a demon. Unless–
 
 Unless he wasn’t expecting a magic appetizer.
 
 Trixie fumbled for her catalyst. As the gargoyle began to squeeze her, she tapped it against his hand and muttered a quick prayer.
 
 The hand crumbled into dust, and she fell free of his grip. The rest of his arm soon followed, and the gargoyle reeled in confusion. Trixie ran towards her sword, and picked it up, blade scraping against the floor.
 
 The gargoyle smashed its hands against the floor, and charged her. Trixie arched her back, and brought the sword up. The blade tore through the monster’s neck, and out the other side. The gargoyle slid to a stop, head impacting against one wall. Then the head slowly fell off its neck, revealing a smoking stump.
 
 Trixie opened her mouth to bid her opponent farewell with another joke, but nothing immediately sprung to mind. She frowned, and then shrugged. No big loss, she decided.
 
 Returning the sword to its scabbard, she couldn’t help but marvel at how well she’d done for most of the fight. It was as if someone else had been guiding the blade. Though, she guessed that was true. Her grandmother’s memories had been the key to winning that battle, so most of the work she owed to dear old granny. Trixie could only assume that she’d remember more of her grandmother’s skills the more she fought.
 
 Not that she was in any hurry to get into another fight. Demon hunter or not, that last battle had been exhausting.
 
 Looking back at the gargoyle, Trixie was surprised to find it had all but disintegrated. Demons are such tidy creatures.
 
 With no danger in sight, Trixie slumped against the wall and sat down. She knew she couldn’t rest for long – not with the impending mortar attack, but she could easily take a quick nap…
 
 
 Her eyes snapped open, an unfamiliar sound ringing in her ears. It took her a moment to identify it: the sound of rain on the roof. She sighed, and rose to her feet. It was time to get a move on.
 
 Trixie’s gaze went across the room, seeing what she could find. There was only one set of doors for whatever reason. But there had to be another exit from the tower.
 
 She could only find the broken wall where the gargoyle had crash-landed. She sighed, and began to pace. She didn’t particularly want to cross the gap again and look at the tower across the way but–
 
 A creak interrupted her thoughts. Glancing down, Trixie saw only a carpet. Aha, she thought. Where there’s a carpet in a castle, there’s a hidden trap door. Grabbing the carpet and flinging it aside, Trixie found her assumption proven right. A wooden door lay in the centre of the room, ready to be opened.
 
 Trixie grabbed the latch, and pulled it open to reveal a ladder. With a sigh, Trixie got on the ladder and began to descend.
 

***

 
 Trixie walked slowly through the library. The shelves were all empty, probably from the exodus to Castle Altair. The whole castle felt empty. She had seen no sign of demons or occultists at all. It was like the castle was dead.
 
 Maybe she’d get lucky and it’d always be like this. It’d be like a nice vacation, only with the threat of impending death via shelling hanging over her head.
 
 She paused to admire a crooked painting. It had fallen from where it usually hung, likely centuries ago. It depicted a seraph, white wings outstretched. Instead of the usual beatific expression most seraphs in paintings wore, there was a half-black, half-white mask with a ghoulish face painted on it.
 
 Trixie continued onwards, soon forgetting about the painting.
 
 Had she stayed for a few more minutes, she would have seen the seraph in the painting move, and soon tear itself out of the painting. It floated in the air, wings still outstretched, and black robe covering the rest of its body. It still bore the texture of the painting, making it a truly bizarre being.
 
 
 Trixie froze, hearing the sound of metal scraping on stone. Turning around, she saw the seraph-thing coming towards her. Its two arms both ended in rusty shears. The thing extended its right arm, stretching it towards her.
 
 The magician girl quickly unsheathed her sword and blocked the attack, knocking the arm to the side. The monster countered with its other arm, grabbing the sword by its hilt. It tugged at the sword, but Trixie refused to let go. She pulled back, hard, and managed to rip the shear off the monster’s arm. Along with it came the twin radius and ulna bones. The creature underneath the robe and mask was nothing more than a skeleton. Spooky.
 
 As the skeleton gardener – as Trixie had mentally catalogued it – recoiled, Trixie swung at its head. The blade neatly cleaved the skull in two, and the gardener collapsed. Much like the gargoyle, it disintegrated. Unlike the gargoyle, it was much more flashy – a burst of flame ate up the bones and robe.
 
 Out of sheer curiosity, Trixie consulted the grimoire the colonel had given her. She flipped to a random page, and to her surprise, she found the being. According to the grimoire, it was called “Scissorhands” and it was an evil spirit that lived in paintings. Aside from that, it was irritatingly vague.

 Scoffing, Trixie tossed the grimoire aside. Worthless, she thought. I bet this crystal is, too. Pondering it, Trixie felt like snapping the necklace off and leaving it with the grimoire. She let it go, however, and shook her head. No, it was better to keep it. How else was she going to get out of this mess?
 
 She continued down the long hall, searching for an exit.
 

***

 
 As she disappeared into the distance, a lone figure walked up to the grimoire. It was another woman, with reddish-orange hair. The woman picked up the grimoire, and blew the dust off it.
 
 With a smirk, Sunset Shimmer followed in Trixie’s footsteps.



> Red & Black
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

 
 
 Sword at the ready, Trixie entered the courtyard. A low fog laid upon the overgrown courtyard, and massive trees reached to the sky, greedily drinking the rain that was falling. Trixie grumbled to herself, wishing that she had been allowed to bring her hat, or at least something with a hood.
 
 She removed her kerchief, and tied it into her hair as a makeshift headscarf. It wouldn’t protect her much from the rain, but it helped a little. Trixie took a few more steps into the courtyard. A snipping sound gave her pause. Scanning the courtyard, she saw several ents trying to tend to the overgrowth, snipping off limbs seemingly at random.
 
 One ent walked by, turning its knotty face towards her. It never slowed in its stride; it simply stared at her blankly. Trixie smiled and waved at it. The ent stopped in front of a particularly large tree to Trixie’s left and began to attempt to trim the massive grapevines that were choking the tree.
 
 Trixie continued into the courtyard, sheathing her sword and clutching her arms tight around her. It was already cold out, but the rain just made it even more miserable. She was certain that nothing could make it worse.
 
 She stepped on a sleeping ent. Its chest caved in with a loud crack, and it let out a keening wail. Trixie leapt back with a shriek, right boot dripping with dark green sap.
 
 The other ents in the courtyard, six of them, all turned towards her, shears frozen mid-snip. They all began to move towards her of one accord. Trixie swore, and pulled out her sword.
 
 The first ent to reach her snipped at the air a few times before trying to plunge it into her neck. Trixie parried the blow, and struck at its arm. The limb flew off, and the ent staggered, shear falling to the ground. It simply couldn’t hold the heavy iron shears with one limb.
 
 Trixie spun in a circle, severing two more ents in half. Green sap splattered everywhere, including all over her face. The remaining three ents charged her all at once. Trixie leapt into the air, and they collided where she once stood.
 
 She landed behind them, and whipped out her catalyst. With a quick flick of the wrist, Trixie summoned a wall of flame. The fires licked at the wood bodies of the ents, sending them into a panic. The rain was not enough to quench the burning ents. They soon collapsed in a heap, still burning.
 
 A slow, sardonic clap joined the crackling of the fires and the rain as the only sounds in the courtyard. Trixie looked up from the ent bonfire, towards the fountain in the centre of the courtyard. It was your standard marble fountain – three dolphins mid-leap spitting out water from their blowholes. Or at least, they would be spitting out water if there was any left.
 
 Atop the highest dolphin stood a woman. Her hair was two-tone: half red, half orange. She wore a leather jacket, black blouse, a necklace with a red-and-white sun, and bright red jeans. The woman stopped clapping, and put her hands on her hips.
 
 “Who’re you?” Trixie asked, gesturing with the sword. “One of the occultists?”
 
 The woman shook her head. “Name’s Sunset Shimmer. You’re on my turf, girl.”
 
 Trixie frowned. “I’m on a mission from the griffons to clear out this castle.”
 
 “And I’m on a mission for myself.” Sunset leapt down from the fountain, landing neatly in front of Trixie. “You did fine against those ents and that scissorhand. Surely you’ve felt what I feel when I defeat a demon?”
 
 Trixie’s frown deepened, brow furrowing. She did feel something strange every time she had slain one. Her strength seemed to return, better than before. Sometimes tenfold, like when she killed the gargoyle atop the castle walls.
 
 At Trixie’s response – or lack thereof – Sunset smiled. “So you have. It’s how we demon hunters grow stronger. The death of a demon gives us power.” She clenched her fist and shook it. “The power of the archdemon here will be mine! Leave if you know what’s good for you.”
 
 Trixie smirked. “And how are you gonna beat the archdemon?” (Whatever that is.) “Talk at him to death?”
 
 Sunset snapped her fingers. With a loud pop, a spear appeared in her hands. The head was golden, emblazoned with a sun. It seemed to glow from within. There were also lines every few inches on the spear’s shaft, like it would be able to collapse on itself. “Unlike you,” she said, “I’m a real bi- witch. There’s nothing I can’t do.”
 
 She twirled the spear like a baton. “I won’t kill you right out, not this time. Instead, I’ll give you the satisfaction of a real fight. No pussy demon battles, but a real girl-to-girl fight. You lose and you leave the castle to me. You win and… well, you won’t win.”
 
 “You gonna fight or talk?” Trixie asked, getting into a fighting position she remembered from her grandmother’s memories.
 
 Sunset leapt into the air, and the head of the spear flew at Trixie. Trixie rolled to the side, allowing the head to bury itself in a tree root. A chain connected the head to the shaft. She could only guess that the lines on the spear were where the spear could separate and fly out, bound by chain.
 
 Trixie sliced at the chain, but was too slow. The spear was whole again, and Sunset was jumping at her, hoping to impale her. Trixie leapt to the side, letting Sunset crash into the ground. The spear acted like the pole in a pole vault, springing Sunset towards the castle wall.  To Trixie’s surprise, Sunset hit the wall feet-first, bounding off it back to the spear. She slid to a stop a few feet shy of the fountain, and charged Trixie again.
 
 Trixie raised her catalyst and fired a quick magic missile at Sunset. It struck the other magical girl in the shoulder, knocking her off balance. Trixie followed that up with a quick slash, knocking the spear out of Sunset’s hands. The rival hunter responded with a roundhouse kick to Trixie’s face.
 
 Sunset did a flip over to where the spear was, kicking it into her hands. Charging Trixie again, she slashed the spear faster than the eye could see. Trixie held out her catalyst, summoning a magic shield to block most of the blows. Sunset continued the barrage, smiling as the cracks in the purple shield grew wider.
 
 Trixie returned the catalyst to its holster, allowing the shield to dissipate. She swung her sword, catching the spear under its head. She took a step forward, forcing the spear back towards Sunset. The other girl swore, and began to press back.
 
 The two struggled for a while, rain pouring down on them, soaking them to the bone. Neither one was gaining much headway – the two weapons were between them, grinding against each other.
 
 Sunset stepped backwards, causing Trixie to stumble. Sunset then leapt into the air, her spear separating at every junction. The chains surrounded Sunset, providing an almost-impenetrable sphere of metal.
 
 The head of the spear darted towards Trixie, who raised her sword to parry it, but instead it slid around the sword, and around her arm. She tugged at it, but the chains just dug deeper into her flesh.
 
 “The more you struggle the tighter it gets!” shouted Sunset, still hovering in the centre of the chain-sphere.
 
 The hilt, Trixie thought. The hilt of the spear was metal. Trixie grabbed the chain with her free hand, and smiled at Sunset. What she was about to do was risky and stupid. Without a catalyst, anything could happen. But she had to try.
 
 Trixie grimaced as she summoned electricity. It arced through her body, and into the chain. Fingers of lightning snaked up the chains, towards Sunset. It finally reached her, a loud crackle drowning out the sound of the rain.
 
 The chain loosened, and Trixie forced her arm and sword through it. Sunset dropped her spear, and fell to the ground. Trixie walked over to her, and prodded her body with her boot. Sunset snapped awake, and kicked Trixie in the jaw, flipping back on her feet.
 
 “It’s showtime,” Trixie said. She grabbed her catalyst, and brought it down in a theatric manner. Purple energy flowed through her, creating an aura of power. She took several strides towards Sunset, preparing to strike.
 
 The other girl’s eyes widened, frozen in fear. “It couldn’t be… Not moon-magic!”
 
 Trixie performed an almost perfect imitation of Sunset’s lightning strikes from before, leaving purple afterimages wherever she struck. Sunset snapped her fingers and quickly brought up her spear to defend. Twirling it, she began to deflect Trixie’s assault.
 
 With a yell, Trixie brought her sword down hard. The spear broke in half and Sunset’s eyes widened even more. The sword struck her in the stomach, slicing downwards.
 
 Staggering backwards, Sunset tossed aside the broken shaft, and began to jab with the part that still had the head. With her free hand, she clutched where Trixie had sliced her gut open. Trixie managed to block every one of Sunset’s increasingly weaker blows.
 
 Sunset’s free hand produced a forked catalyst and she fired a flurry of magic missiles. Most of them missed due to her shaking, but a few struck Trixie, producing smoke and knocking the girl back on her ass.
 
 Trixie rolled into a new battle stance, ready to deal with Sunset’s magic tricks. The other magician did a twirl, and jabbed the catalyst downwards. A fiery dragon swooped out of the ground, mouth open in a silent roar.
 
 Her heart skipped a beat at the sight of the impressive dragon, but Trixie still had a few tricks of her own. She produced her own catalyst and did a sweeping gesture in the shape of a crescent moon. Almost immediately, a starry giant of a bear appeared and grabbed the dragon with its front paws, uttering a silent roar of its own.
 
 By this time, Sunset had managed to repair her chain-spear, and threw the front half at Trixie, chain rattling as it did so. Trixie knocked the blow back at Sunset, and charged her. Sunset did the same, preparing to clash again.
 
 The two weapons clashed together in another power struggle. Sweat joined the rain in pouring down their faces as the two tired women pressed against each other’s strength. Above them, the dragon and bear collided, biting into each other’s phantasmal flesh.
 
 Sunset grimaced, losing her grip on the spear. She clutched at her bloody stomach with one hand, her guard down. Trixie pressed harder, knocking the spear out of her hand. She dashed towards Sunset, sword piercing Sunset’s stomach.
 
 Sunset’s mouth opened in a silent O, and her dragon summon flickered into non-existence. She collapsed on the ground, blood pooling beneath her.
 
 Trixie collapsed too, out of exhaustion instead. She sat there for a while, heart pounding. She felt sick in her very soul. There was no power flowing into her like there had been when she defeated the gargoyle. Instead, there was just a sickening hollowness. It occurred to her, rather abruptly, that she had just killed another human.
 
 She vomited.
 
 She stayed there, sobbing until the rain stopped. Then something changed in her. She could hear her grandmother’s harsh voice, telling her to get up and continue. Trixie realised she was right. There was a time limit on her quest. The time for mourning her opponent would come later.
 

***

 
 The doors to the castle proper were sealed. Trixie kicked them out of anger, and immediately regretted it. She hopped around for a few moments, clutching her foot, and swearing like the storm that had just passed.
 
 In her comedic stompings, she noticed a stairway to the side of the castle. Once the pain had died down, she limped over to investigate. The stone staircase was surrounded by a black iron fence, which only took a kick to dislodge. It clattered into the recesses of the staircase.
 
 It seemed like the only way into the castle. Trixie took a quick survey of the courtyard. Everything else that could have been an entrance was blocked off by thick vines or the trees.
 
 Sighing, Trixie started down the stairs. She followed the stairs down all the way, to a rotten wood door. Despite the lock, it too yielded after a single kick. Entering the dark castle, Trixie pulled out her catalyst and cast a simple spell of light. A little orb of white light appeared above her head, shining on the dismal walls.
 
 Trixie took a few more steps into the castle, and grimaced. From what little she could see, she was in a dungeon.
 
 “This just keeps getting better and better,” she sighed. “What’s next? A sewer?”
 

***

 
 Sunset stirred. She sat up, and raised her blouse. There were only white scars where the blade had cut into her, and soon those would fade.
 
 She stood, and walked over to her spear. Picking it up, she twirled it with a slight grin. Phalanx hadn’t failed her yet, even when that idiot girl had cut it in two. With a snap of her fingers, she banished the spear to a pocket dimension, and looked around.
 
 Sunset was quite familiar with the castle Fortnight, having studied it in the recesses of Altair’s library. She knew it better than anyone alive. And judging from where it appeared her rival had gone, Sunset definitely knew it better than her.
 
 Putting her hands in her pockets, Sunset whistled a jaunty tune as she kicked open the castle gate.
	
	
> Rules of Nature
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

 
 
Torchlight was the only thing keeping the darkness at bay. Trixie shivered, keeping her eyes on the shadows. She was beginning to regret going down into the dungeons. So far she hadn’t seen anything, but the sounds of chains rattling, eerie wails, and bells chiming had echoed down the tunnels.
 
 Trixie slid forward, legs kicking wildly. She landed on the ground, splashing water everywhere. Slowly, she stood up, rubbing her wet bottom. Her next few steps were cautious as she tried to avoid slick spots.
 
 The long hallway she had been traversing for the past hour or so finally seemed to be ending. Or, at least, that’s what she assumed from the wood door at the end of the tunnel. Drawing her sword, Trixie kicked open the door, and rolled into the next room. She promptly hit a steel fence. It buckled, and she backed away, heart pounding at the near-miss.
 
 Looking around, she saw that the circular room she had entered was built around a giant pit. A creaky-looking fence surrounded the pit. It was likely that even the slightest bit of force would dislodge it like she almost had.
 
 Cells lined the walls, dark blots with metal grates separating the black from the dirty brown bricks of the wall. Corpses sat near several of the cells, most of them griffons. Trixie couldn’t see into the cells very well, making it easy for her to decide not to get too close to any. She’d read too many books where the heroine took one too many steps towards a cell and had been grabbed by a diseased madman.
 
 Gingerly stepping around a mass of broken bricks, Trixie continued down the path. The curvature of the room made it hard to avoid getting close to the cells. Trixie closed her eyes and wished under her breath that they were empty.
 
 It was, of course, at that instant, that a clawed hand shot out of the closest cell, and wrapped itself around her arm. Trixie screamed, and grabbed at the hand to try and loosen its grip.
 
 The beak of a griffon peeked out of the cell’s recesses, and a croaking voice rang out in the silence. “You aren’t one of them, are you?”
 
 Trixie managed to break free of his grasp, and shook her head, still panting from the shock. “No. I’m a demon hunter.”
 
 The griffon sighed. “Thank the feathery rump of the goddess! I know my way around this place. Can you get me out of here?”
 
 For a moment, Trixie almost said no, but then she nodded. She could find a way. In fact, something had just occurred to her.
 
 “Step back,” she said. With a flourish, she produced her catalyst, and jammed the end of it into the lock. With a bright flash, the lock melted, and the door swung open. The griffon exited, limping on all fours.
 
 “Thanks a lot,” he said. “I thought I’d rot in there for sure.” He offered his left claw to her, and she shook it. “Name’s Wynward. I was part of an expeditionary force to assess the castle. The rest are all dead. At least, I hope they are.” He shuddered, golden eyes breaking away from Trixie. “I’d hate to know what horrible things the demons have done.”
 
 Trixie nodded. “Do you know your way around this castle? I’m lost. They sent me to clear out the castle–”

 Wynward laughed, his voice a sharp caw. “What a fool’s errand. Not even if you went into the depths of Tartarus itself could you clear the castle of evil. That leader of the occultists made that clear. This place is cursed.”
 
  “You’ve seen their leader?”
 
 The griffon nodded. “A brute of a man, seven feet tall or call me a liar. Always wrapped in a robe the colour of blood. I’d be surprised if even the occultists have seen his face. His words are honey, but you shouldn’t believe them.” Reaching into his fur and feathers, he produced a small piece of parchment. “Regardless, I know my way around this place. Every griffish castle is built around the same basic floor plan, with changes made to accommodate the surrounding landscape. This map should guide us through the dungeons into the sewers–”
 
 Trixie sighed. “Of course there’s a sewer level.”
 
 “It gets better,” Wynward replied. “They say the sewers are guarded by a dragon made of metal.”
 
 “How exactly does that work?” Trixie cast a worried glance around them. She felt as though there were something wrong nearby.
 
 The griffon only shrugged. “It’s just a legend. Maybe at one time there was a small drake living in the sewers and the tale grew.”
 
A bell chimed, very close. Trixie spun towards the sound, flipping her sword up into a ready position. Wynward ducked behind her, poking his head out between her legs.
 
 A group of five strange beings stood there, each gripping an oddly-shaped bell that hurt to look at in their three-clawed hands. In the centre of the bell, a green-white light radiated outwards, making it a fusion of bell and lantern.
 
The creatures themselves must have been demons, for Trixie doubted that such things could exist in the natural order of things. Their heads resembled an elephant slightly, though the trunk was made of segmented bone and had holes in it like a flute. Each wore a brown robe that looked like it was made of silk, since it shined in the light. One demon’s trunk rose, and with its free claw blew a wavering note through the holes, confirming Trixie’s flute suspicion.
 
 Trixie beckoned them on with a hand. The one in front took a step forward, raising its bell-lantern. It shook the bell, a cacophony of ringing filling the air. The green light arced towards Trixe, striking her in the chest before she could react. She stumbled backwards, tripping over Wynward. Both of them collapsed, Trixie’s bum landing on Wynward’s face.
 
 As the jailer-demon took another step forward, lowering its lantern, it made a keening wail. Trixie leapt up, taking a quick swing at the demon. Her goal was to dislodge the lantern from its grip, nullifying its one advantage. The demon seemed to fly backwards away from her blow, joining its brethren.
 
 Trixie swore, anger bubbling up inside her. Everything else she’d fought so far had been sublimely stupid. And now she was facing demons that could actually put up a good fight. She charged the group, preparing to do the same rapid-fire assault she had performed on Sunset earlier.
 
 Before she could even start, the leader’s head seemed to disconnect from its body, raising itself. Where its neck should have been, there was only a mass of tentacles. A set of tentacles shot out of its neck hole and wrapped themselves around her arms, pinning them to her sides. It began to pull her towards it, the only sounds in the room Trixie’s panicked panting and the grotesque wet sounds of tentacles returning to their bloody home.
 
 Two gunshots rang out, and the demon’s head exploded. Trixie hit the ground, and turned as she picked her sword back up. Wynward stood near the corpse of a fellow griffon, spinning two massive pistols in his hand.
 
 Smiling, Trixie turned back to the jailer-demons. They were starting to back away, the death of their leader having obviously unsettled them. She rushed them again, and started swinging her sword early this time to fend off any unseemly tentacles. None of the demons tried what had previously failed, instead raising their lanterns of one accord.
 
 Trixie slid under the energy beams this time, slashing at their feet. In one slice, she managed to cut the demons down at the knees. Unlike the previous demons she had faced, these vanished in a flurry of green light as soon as she had cut them down.
 
 Looking back, she saw the same had happened to the first demon, she had just been too busy gawking to notice.
 
 “I thought the captain had died,” Wynward said quietly, standing over the corpse he had raided. “When this is all over I’ll come back to bury you.”
 
 “He was your captain?”
 
“Yes, she was. She was a great warrior. I’ll put her guns to good use.” He turned back towards her, holstering the guns he had pilfered. “I’ll lead, you follow.”
 
 Trixie had no objection to that. Let the big guns go first.
 

***

 
 They soon entered the sewers. Trixie had to pry a heavy metal grate off the wall to do so. She was surprised at her own strength. She could only suppose that her ancestor’s memory had awakened the inner strength all demon hunters have.
 
 The grate opened up into a steep inclined tunnel that sloped down. They had to slide down, which soaked both of them to the bone.
 
 “And here I was thinking I was done getting wet,” Trixie grumbled after they reached the bottom.
 
 Wynward whipped out his guns. “There’s something strange in the air.”
 
 “We’re in a sewer. What do you think is in the air?”
 
 He shot her a dark look. “I don’t mean that, I mean–”
 
 A low growl echoed through the large chamber they had slid into. Two large red eyes opened, revealing that some creature dwelt on the ceiling. Revealing itself with a roar, the dragon flew down from the ceiling, landing with a splash that served to soak the two even more.
 
 The dragon was shiny silver, betraying its metal nature. Trixie had no idea how a living being could be made of metal. She could only assume it was a golem of some sort.
 
 Wynward began to fire and strafe, his bullets bouncing off the dragon harmlessly. The dragon swatted him aside, sending him flying out of Trixie’s sight.
 
 Trixie rolled out of the way to avoid the same fate, and ran towards the dragon. This is really dumb, she thought. It was too late to change her course. Running to the side of its leg, she made a flurry of attacks to its leg. She could see reddish-orange scorch marks where her blows landed. This sword is amazing!
 
 The dragon roared in pain, and brought its leg up to squash her. She ran to its other front leg and did the same. Her sword was a blur, the heat of its friction slowly melting the leg of the dragon.
 
 With a moan, the dragon collapsed forward, having lost its balance. Trixie ran around the dragon’s head, and jumped. She landed between its glowing eyes, and started her run again. Slashing her sword as she went along, she ran down to the middle of the dragon’s back. The dragon began to stir, sending her off balance. Being made entirely of smooth metal, there was nothing for Trixie to grab hold of. There was no fur, no jagged scales, no spines.
 
 Trixie hit the ground rolling. She’d had plenty of practise with safe falls so far. Breaking into a run, she glanced back at the dragon. The melting scars from her blade still lingered on the dragon’s form. A plan began to formulate in her mind. If she could somehow get enough blows and then apply enough force…
 
 The dragon bellowed, and a gout of flame erupted from its mouth. Trixie dodged at the last second, flames licking at her jacket. It was wet enough that the flames couldn’t get enough traction to set her coat ablaze.
 
 Trixie sprinted towards the dragon again, sword slashing quicker than the eye could see. This time, her blows were focused on the stomach of the dragon. Molten steel dripped from the slashes she made in the belly.
 
 She slid to a stop, water spraying everywhere. Her heart pounded. It almost reminded her of the Ursa Major in its sheer size. How did this thing get down here?
 
 The dragon staggered from the blows, but quickly recovered. Moving quickly, too quickly for her to react, it brought its closed fist down on her.
 
 Time seemed to slow down, and Trixie could see it come smashing down. A voice spoke in the back of her head: Use your strength to stop it, Trixie.
 
 Trixie brought her hands above her head, dropping her sword to the ground. She caught the fist in her hands. To her surprise, all it did was stagger her slightly. Somehow, she was holding the dragon’s fist in her hands without being squashed.
 
 An idea came to mind. It was totally crazy; a one-in-a-million shot. But she had the dragon in the palm of her hand, so why not try?
 
She began to spin the dragon’s fist, and slowly her movements began to move the rest of the dragon. Then, with all her might, she threw the dragon across the room, its tail crashing into the ceiling, sending mortar and bricks showering down upon the two. The dragon struck the ground, cracks appearing in its skin where Trixie had slashed it. It flew upwards, wings extended and mouth open, ready to launch another fire ball.

 Trixie leapt towards the wall, bouncing off it and flying towards the dragon, tip of her sword extended, ready to pierce the dragon’s metal skin.
 
 The blade struck home, shattering the dragon as she flew through the metal body. Moving too fast to stop herself, Trixie slammed into a wall. She dropped her sword and slid to the ground. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the dragon falling to pieces, as well as the body of Wynward.
 
 Fumbling with her jacket, Trixie pulled out a pack of cigarettes and slipped one into her mouth. She lit it with a spark of flame from her catalyst.
 
 “Mind… sharing?” came a raspy voice. Trixie looked over to see Wynward crawling towards her, still alive.
 
 As he reached her, she put the cigarette in his mouth with an unsteady hand. The griffon puffed on it a few times before coughing.
 
 “These things aren’t good for your health,” he muttered. “Good thing I don’t have to worry about that.” Wynward handed the cigarette back to Trixie, who accepted it wordlessly. “I never thought it’d end like this… Dying in a sewer with only a human for company. I planned on living to a ripe old age, dying with friends and family to keep me company.”
 
 Trixie offered the cigarette to Wynward again, but he didn’t take it. Looking closer, she saw that he was completely still. Her mind raced as she fumbled to check his pulse, dropping the cigarette. She couldn’t find a pulse, but then again, she had no idea where such a thing would be found on a chimeric creature like a griffon.
 
 Wynward was dead.
	
	
> The Stains of Time
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

 
 
 The weight of the two guns on Trixie’s hips exaggerated her stride, giving her the swagger she once had as a stage magician. Despite the memory of whose guns they had been, Trixie liked the swagger she had. The days of travelling the world as an entertainer were long over – they had been ever since her disastrous performance at Ponyville. Since then she had been nothing but a con artist.
 
 And now she was helping people. It was such a giant leap that Trixie had to stop walking for a moment to consider it. She frowned, tapping her finger on her breast. Was it her inner self that caused this change, or was it memories of her grandmother asserting dominance? If it was the latter, she didn’t like that. She was her own woman; she didn’t need someone else making her decisions for her.
 
 She shook her head, and continued moving down the dank sewers, occasionally pulling out the bloody map Wynward had been using. From her best guess, she was on the right track. Eventually there would be a ladder and a drain leading to the royal baths.
 
 “Lo and behold, the magics of Trixie find the way out,” she muttered with a smirk, stopping before a rusted ladder.
 
 She poked it tentatively. When the ladder didn’t immediately collapse in on itself, she smiled, and mounted it. It was a surprisingly short ascent, stopped only by the appearance of a heavy-looking drain. Trixie may have grown in strength, but she wasn’t strong enough to dislodge it with one hand. She produced her catalyst, absent-mindedly going through a quick sleight-of-hand movement, and pressed it to the drain’s bottom. There was a loud pop, and the drain levitated upwards, allowing Trixie to slip underneath it and into the royal baths.
 
 The royal bathhouse was a mess. Scum had sunk deep in-between the tiles, and the tiles had become so discoloured from the moss and scum that it was impossible to tell what the original colour had been. Sunlight drifted in from the hole in the ceiling. The roof, or what was left of it, was scattered across the room. Trixie made sure to step carefully to avoid slipping on the puddles that had formed. Getting really tired of all this water, she thought.
 
 Trixie took out the map and flipped it over. She was surprised to see the main floor of the castle. Wynward had not referred to it being more than just a map of the dungeons. It made sense though: what griffish soldier would come unprepared? “Preparation” seemed to be the middle name of all griffons.
 
 Turning the map this way and that, Trixie examined it, trying to find the royal baths. Finding it in one corner, she pulled out her catalyst, and with the tip, drew a line from the baths to the throne room. A shimmering purple trail marked the path she had drawn, leading straight to a door marked “TO Forest of Hesitation”. She didn’t know why she chose that door to end the trail at; it just seemed right. Maybe it was her grandmother’s memories asserting themselves again, or maybe it was just latent demon hunter instincts.
 
 Either way, Trixie had a new destination: the Forest of Hesitation. It sounds like a great place for a vacation.
 

***

 
  The marble-lined, cobweb-filled halls of the castle were surprisingly empty. Oh sure, there was the occasional painting full of disturbing images and sometimes a broken suit of armour. Trixie learned quickly to ignore the paintings, as most involved a demon eating a chick, or sorrow-filled griffons committing suicide. From the strange feeling of dread she felt in the pit of her stomach she got every time she even glanced at a painting, Trixie had no doubt she’d join the painted griffons if she continued paying attention to them.
 
 A scattered piece of armor moved. Trixie whipped out her sword, preparing to bring it striking down. A mangy rat that was supposed to be grey poked its nose out of the piece and sniffed at her before scurrying off between her legs. Trixie sighed, and returned the sword to its sheath. An hour of walking and the only life she’d seen was a pest. She could have sworn demons ate rats. Maybe that particular specimen was too mange-ridden and filthy for even a demon to eat.
 
 Consulting the map for the umpteenth time, Trixie found to her delight that the throne room was up ahead. Breaking into a run, Trixie head for the twin doors that would mark the entrance to the throne room. The guns slapped against her sides, and she was sure they’d leave bruises.
 
 Dust kicked up with every step she took, hiding the dirty red carpet from view. Demons, reflected Trixie, are not very good housekeepers.
 
 Slowing to a halt, Trixie saw that the doors had been ripped from their hinges and no longer existed. She took a slow step forward, passing through the threshold. Her breath caught as she saw that the throne room was full of gold, jewels, and other riches. They practically filled the room, covering the once-white marble floors. Some even spilled over on the red carpet that led to the throne.
 
 Looking around at the many, many treasures, one golden image caught Trixie’s eye. The lower half was a snake, jade embedded in the sides and back. The upper-half was a woman, quite busty, with a golden mask covering her face. Her skin appeared to be carved out of jade. A naga, Trixie thought. It must have been tribute to the griffon king from them.
 
 In the centre of the room was a golden throne. It looked like every other type of throne Trixie had seen in books. Griffons evidently lacked imagination when it came to chairs. She stepped up to it, and rapped it with a fist. Dust kicked up, and she sneezed.
 
 Out of the corner of her eye, Trixie spotted something. Walking over to it, she picked it up. It was a fancy-looking circlet, with a purple gem of some sort fused into the gold. She slipped it on, and smiled. It was a feeble replacement for the hat she had lost long ago to a bad bet on a Wonderbolts race, but it looked much prettier.
 
 Trixie returned to the throne, and sat down on it. With an exaggerated flick of her hand, Trixie said, “Court is now in session! Come and share your treasures with the great and powerful Trixie!” Whipping out her catalyst with another exaggerated flick, Trixie levitated a heavy-looking silver chest over to her. Kicking it open, she saw it was filled to the brim with jewels.
 
 She giggled to herself, and ran her hands through the jewels. There was enough to choke a dragon in there! “I think I know what to ask as payment for this job,” she said to herself, leaning back in the throne, her fingers now weighed down by the various rings she had found inside.
 
 “Trixie will now hear your grievances! But please do not weigh her down with such plebian troubles as taxes, she’s very moody right now.”
 
 “We have a grievance,” came a sibilant voice, joined by the clinking of gold coins against each other. “A certain human has come into our realm and disturbed its flow. She has killed many of my brothers and even now disgraces the throne of Lord Hastur with her presence… What does this Trixie have to say for herself?”
 
 Trixie opened her eyes, and saw the snake-woman she had mistaken for a statue slithering down from the top of the treasure pile. She could see a smouldering orange light in the face holes of the mask.
 
 “Well, for starters, it wasn’t Trixie’s idea. Blame the griffons. They stabbed h- eh, me and guilted me into doing this.”
 
 “And yet,” the snake-woman hissed, “you still murder our people and harass us.”
 
 “Hey!” Trixie was on the verge of snapping. “You’re demons! You don’t get to lecture me.”
 
 “Who is the true demon? Is it those who wish to live their lives in peace, or those who disturb the peace? All we want is a home in this realm, free from the flames of Tartarus, and no-one will allow it!” The serpent slithered up to the chest, leaning her massive bosom to rest on its upturned lid. “Surely you agree that life is worth living in peace?”
 
 Trixie had no words. The years of her life she spent on the road were the happiest time in her life. Nothing to weigh her down, just her and the open road.
 
 “Perhaps you know better than I think,” the woman said, reaching forward with gold-clad fingers to caress Trixie’s cheek. “Yes, you do. You know the hurt of rejection, the pain of seeking vengeance. And the pain of being unable to fulfill your thirst. Yes, we are more alike than I thought.”
 
 Trixie slapped her hand away, wiping the scent of the demon off her face. “We’re nothing alike.” Kicking the chest, she knocked the serpent-woman over and got off the throne. “Have your Throne of Hussies, or whatever. Just leave me alone.”
 
 “Your quest ends only in death,” hissed the snake, coming up to her and draping her golden arms over Trixie’s shoulders. “I am Ardent, lamia queen to Lord Hastur, and soothsayer. I have seen it. Two enter, one remains. Which of you will it be? The disgraced traveler or the fallen student? Both have a ways to go before their end.”
 
 Trixie jerked her shoulders, breaking the lamia’s grip again. “Don’t you have babies to eat? Just let me go.”
 
 “I have seen through the stains of time, and if you leave her, I know the blood of my Lord will be on your hands. This cannot come to pass.” Ardent reached into her armor, and drew out twin sai – three-bladed daggers from Neighpon. “I cannot permit you to leave.”
 
 “Oh come on!” Trixie shouted. “Do I have to fight all the time?”
 
 “No,” said the lamia. “You can roll over and die, like a good girl. Otherwise our blades must cross.”
 
 With a weary sigh, Trixie pulled out her sword with a flourish, spinning the blade. “I’m getting real tired of having to fight my way through this place.”
 
 “Then you should not have come here,” Ardent said. “It pains me to come to this. I thought you might leave us be. We only desire coexistence.”
 
 Trixie frowned at that, almost letting her sword drop. Then the voice of her grandmother spoke up. They only want coexistence – us being their slaves, of course! Drop your blade, Trixie. Do it and serve them. She scowled, and brought her blade back up.
 
 The lamia sighed, and slithered into an attack position. Then, quicker than Trixie could see, she flung a sai towards her. Trixie deflected the sai, noticing it was bound to the lamia’s hand by a sparkling ribbon. She slashed at the ribbon, but the sai retreated before she could land the blow.
 
 Ardent coiled and leapt at Trixie, slashing her in the shoulder and flying over her head, landing on the pile of treasures. “Queen Trixie! Bathe in your opulence!” She coiled again, and sprang into the air, slamming into the pile, sending it collapsing on Trixie.
 
Trixie slashed at the falling treasures, knocking them to the sides and shattering statues. Gold coins showered her face with a pelting sting. Gritting her teeth, she followed Ardent with her eyes, getting ready to attack.
 
 “Let the rain of decadence spill over you!” Ardent slithered over to another pile, getting ready to do the same thing.
 
 “Screw this,” Trixie said, and slammed the sword into the floor. She pulled out the twin pistols she had recovered from Wynward’s corpse and began to channel her magic into the guns. They were long since out of ammunition but Trixie was taking a gamble. If she could successfully create magic bullets, then she could easily take out the lamia.
 
 Her risk paid off in spades – as she pulled the triggers, bullets made of spiraling purple shot out of the muzzle, striking Ardent in the chest. The lamia, dizzied but not very hurt by the magic bullets, stumbled and fell down the treasure, bouncing off statues and chests.
 
 To Trixie’s surprise, Ardent righted herself, and skied down the pile until she reached the throne. The lamia wrapped herself around the throne at full speed, and slingshotted herself at Trixie. Unable to avoid her, Trixie took the full brunt of the impact.
 
 Another surprise awaited Trixie. The lamia began to spiral around Trixie, starting to constrict her. Ardent removed her mask, revealing a jade-scaled face that was fierce in its snake-like beauty. “Time to wrap things up!”
 
 Blackness surrounded Trixie’s vision, and she started to gasp. She could feel the heavy coils of the lamia suffocating her, slowly driving her ribs deeper into her chest. Trixie’s eyes rolled up into her head, making a choked gasp. Drool dribbled down her cheek as Ardent slowly increased the pressure.
 
 “You’re such a weak girl.” A nasal voice drifted into Trixie’s closing ears. With all her might, Trixie turned her head and refocused her vision. Twilight Sparkle stood with her hands on her hips in a simple dress, seraph wings outstretched. “You couldn’t beat me at a magic duel and now you’re dying to the first thing anyone would’ve thought of when fighting a lamia.”
 
 Trixie managed to choke out a strangled “Sparkle” before the pressure on her lungs made her wheeze again.
 
 Sparkle walked over and tapped the lamia with a finger before looking up to Trixie, mouth twisted in disapproval. “It’s quite simple to break free from a lamia’s grip, Trixie. You just have to apply force to the right spots.” She tapped the lamia in a few other places. “Oh, and believe in the power of friendship, or something like that.” She shook her head. “But still, it’s pitiful for even a beginning demon hunter to get caught in a trap like that. I can’t believe you, Trixie. Who would even hire you for something important like this? Just let Sunset Shimmer do all the work and go back home.”
 
 Trixie’s eyes glowed red, and a burst of energy exploded from her body. Ardent shrieked as she was blown away from the woman, tumbling into the throne headfirst.
 
 “Shut up, Sparkle!” Trixie shouted as soon as she caught her breath. Blinking, she saw that the annoying now-princess was nowhere to be found. She stumbled unsteadily over to her sword, and pulled it out of the ground. With another set of blinks, she saw that Ardent was picking herself up, rubbing her head where it had struck the throne.
 
 Staggering over to the lamia, Trixie drunkenly swung her sword. It actually managed to hit Ardent, taking a chunk of golden armour with its swing. The lamia hissed, and began to attack with her sai, jabbing the twin blades at Trixie’s stomach. Trixie spun her sword, letting only a few stabs through.
 
 Ardent slithered backwards, lapping at the blood that tinged the tip of her sai. She had drawn first blood, and was intent on enjoying it. She didn’t have time to, as Trixie began to swing madly at her. Most of the blows missed entirely, but a few cleaved apart Ardent’s armour and sunk into the flesh below.
 
 The lamia jerked, feeling the blade’s bite. She leapt backwards, and flung a sai with magic. This time, Trixie dodged it, and slashed at the shimmering magical ribbon. The blade cut through the magic, and the sai detonated with magic feedback. Trixie smirked as Ardent’s smouldering eyes widened in panic.
 
 Taking a long stride towards Ardent, Trixie prepared to do the forward leaping slash she had perfected on previous opponents. The lamia leapt upwards at the last moment, landing on another pile of treasure. Trixie swore, pivoting to face the demon.
 
 “What do you fight for that gives you such strength?” rasped Ardent, clutching at the hand that had suffered the brunt of the magical feedback. It looked like the gold had melted into her skin of jade.
 
 Trixie stopped mid-swing. What was she fighting for? Herself? Her ancestor? The griffons?
 
 Ardent took advantage of Trixie’s confusion, and began to levitate a marble statue of a griffon holding a spear. With the last of her strength, she flung the statue, sending it spiraling towards Trixie spear-first.
 
 Trixie snapped out of it when she saw the statue hurtling towards her. As she tossed aside her sword to grab her pistols, time seemed to slow like it had when the dragon tried to crush her. Barely aiming, Trixie pumped magic through the guns, shooting the statue. The statue crumbled with every shot, until there was only a singular claw grasping the spear. Holstering the guns, Trixie grabbed the spear as it flew by, and threw it at Ardent.
 
 The lamia couldn’t avoid the spear. It pierced her in the bosom, pinning her to the wall. Ardent writhed in pain, grasping at the spear, trying to pull herself off it.
 
 Trixie leapt into the air and landed on the treasure pile, barely maintaining balance. Slowly she worked her way up to Ardent on her hands and knees. When she reached the top, the lamia was barely holding onto life.
 
 “You are stronger than I thought,” Ardent managed to say, blood dribbling from her mouth. “You defeated me, queen of the lamias. I thought I would bear more clutches and watch my children grow old. You truly are a demon hunter.”
 
 Trixie only nodded in silence. Ardent coughed and looked up at her killer. “You were wrong.”
 
 “What?” Trixie’s eyes widened slightly, and her face bore lines of confusion.
 
 “My Lord and many others would not agree… but I did dream of coexistence…” With a rattle, the fire in Ardent’s eyes died, and so did she.
 
 The throne room was silent except for the clinking of coins.
 
 
	
	
> Red Sun
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

 
 
 Trixie slid down the treasure pile, enjoying the feel of coins on her bum and back. Within a few seconds, her feet struck the hard marble floor. She pitched forward, but regained her balance.
 
 Taking a quick glance around, Trixie found the exit to the Forest of Hesitation. She hesitated for a second, looking back at the corpse of Ardent. She couldn’t help but think about the lamia’s last words. What if she could have been an ally?
                                 
 With a shake of her head, Trixie continued towards the exit. Ardent had wanted to plant seeds of doubt in her mind. That had to be the only answer. Trixie kicked open the door, seeing only darkness ahead. She took a short step inside, and her head spun.
 
 Stumbling to the side, Trixie ran into a giant tree. Blinking, she looked around, a surprised look crossing her face. Behind her sat a door that led into the mountain. All around here was a misty forest. Massive trees stretched to the grey sky, their green leaves blotting most of it out. Moss grew on the trunks of the trees, and great roots broke the ground, running down the mountainside.
 
 Faint birdcalls tickled Trixie’s ear, as well as a strange whale-like moaning in the distance. Her skin prickled with goosebumps as the noise continued.
 
 She took a tentative step forward, foot squishing in the mud. When nothing immediately leapt out at her, she began to walk at a fair pace, trying to avoid tripping over the many roots. So far she was doing a good job at that.
 
 Compared to the castle, the forest was a pleasant experience. There was nothing leaping out at her, trying to drink her blood. There was no-one appearing out of nowhere wanting to kill her for being in the way or having different beliefs.
 
 There was just the forest, full of–
 
 Full of monsters.
 
 Trixie ducked behind a tree, peeking out to ensure none of them had seen her. There were about two dozen creatures. All but one of them were ents, a few clipping futilely at a root with broken shears. A scissorhand floated above them. It looked bulkier and more threatening than the one that had come out of the painting earlier.
 
 There was doubtless going to be a fight. Trixie didn’t think she could make her way through the clearing stealthily. Even as that thought flitted through her head, the scissorhand’s head snapped towards her, and it let out a keening wail.
 
 Trixie leapt out from behind the tree and saw a whirlwind of carnage. A red blur cut its way through the ents, heading for the scissorhand. The scissorhand spun, snapping its shears at the blur. For a brief moment, there was a pause in the action, and Trixie realised that the blur was Sunset Shimmer. Her mind spun as she considered this.
 
 She had killed Sunset Shimmer, hadn’t she? The memory of being impaled on her own blade by the griffon Griselda came flooding back to her. It was possible that somehow Sunset had survived impalement as well.
 
 Sunset’s body hitting the ground snapped Trixie out of her reverie. The scissorhand had struck her with the blunt end of its shear. Trixie ran towards it, getting ready to land the final blow.
 
 The scissorhand dashed at the last minute, making her slash uselessly at nothing. Trixie grunted and spun to face the scissorhand.
 
 To her surprise, it had somehow combined both shears into one gargantuan shear. It snipped the shear shut a few times and descended, ready to cut Trixie in two. Trixie froze in fear, her heart racing.
 
 Before the shears could reach her neck, the scissorhand stiffened, and the point and shaft of a spear stuck through its body. As the corpse vanished, Trixie could see Sunset hovering behind it, head of the spear extended on a chain. The spear head snapped back onto the shaft as she lowered herself to the ground.
 
 “Not bad, huh?” Sunset twirled the spear until it disappeared. “Shame you had to freeze. You’re pretty good,” she added with a hand gesture. “You have to be to get past the snake slut. Makes me think twice about trying to kill you.”
 
 “Does- does it?” Trixie asked, shakily putting her sword away. “Well, I wouldn’t think twice about not killing the great and powerful Trixie. I just wouldn’t consi- consider it at all.”
 
 The other girl shook her head. “You’ve got a weird way of looking at things. I was thinking, how about a little deal?”
 
 “A deal?” echoed Trixie.
 
 “Sure. There’s no way you can take on Tartarus yourself or even find the portal to the part of Tartarus you need to travel to. As it happens, I know where the portal is. What I lack is the ability to reach it. You, on the other hand can.”
 
 Trixie frowned. It felt like Sunset was deliberately withholding information from her. “Yeah? And where is it?”
 
 Sunset wagged a finger. “First things first! I need a certain something from the demon lord. Do you promise to leave it intact for me?”
 
“How is Trixie supposed to know what you want?” she snapped, irritated at both her failure to fight and the overall annoyingness of Sunset.
 
 With a sigh, Sunset replied, “I want Alastor, Lord Hastur’s scythe. Let’s just say I want to… purify it. Yeah, that’s a good word for what I want.”
 
 Trixie sincerely doubted this, but she only nodded. She could always get rid of Sunset if the need arose. A flicker of surprise ran through her – had she really just thought that? “Alright. We have a deal. Show me how to get to Tartarus, and I bring you the scythe.”
 
 Sunset clapped her hands together and smiled a great, big, false smile. “Oh good! I know the waaaay!” With that, she skipped off into the distance. Trixie sighed, and trudged on after her.
 

***

 
 Sunset led her on a merry romp through the forest. They would pause occasionally to let ent gardeners attempt to tend to the oversized roots. Other times they would just go around the ents, letting them peck uselessly at the roots.
 
 After several hours of walking – or at least, that’s what it felt to Trixie – they came to a strange sight.
 
 A giant dome sat in the middle of the forest. Inside was what appeared to be a rainforest. The trees of the Forest of Hesitation had tried wrap their overgrowth over the dome, but had thus far been unsuccessful.
 
 Trixie ran a hand on the glass surface of the dome. “What is it?”
 
 “Griffons have weird taste in stuff,” Sunset said, kicking the dome. “The guy who built Fortnight was obsessed with the rainforest. So he had a dome built nearby so he could have his own rainforest in the mountains. There are magical runes carved by the greatest magical boys and girls of the age that cause the temperature and condensation to remain at their ideal points.
 
 “Up there, at the top of the dome is the portal. It’s on the outside.”
 
 “How do I get through it then?” Trixie asked with an exasperated sigh. Nothing about this job was easy. First there was all the killing, and now she had to climb a dome?
 
 “Don’t worry, there’s a magic elevator in the centre of the rainforest that leads straight to the top. It’ll be easy. Nothing lives in there. Not even demons.”
 
 “You sure?” Trixie peeked at the door to the dome, which was currently stuck underneath a tangle of massive roots.
 
“They don’t like water, for whatever reason. Now get your ass in gear and get me my scythe before I decide to fight you again.”
 
 Trixie had no desire to fight another human again, so she began to hack at the roots with her sword. So far it was proving ineffective. The sword simply bounced off the roots. Tiny splinters of wood would fly off every time, but not enough to put a dent in the roots.
 
 “Oh for the love of– Here, let me!”
 
 Sunset stepped over and snapped her fingers. A finger of flame flickered into existence, and jumped to the roots. Trixie stumbled backwards, narrowly avoiding the fiery holocaust being born before her eyes. The fire quickly ate through the roots, and began to spread through the rest of the forest, transforming the serene woods into hell.
 
 “You idiot! What are you doing?”
 
 Sunset smiled. “I’m getting ready for the sunset.” She snapped her fingers and the door to the dome swung open. While Trixie was distracted by the fires, she kicked the other magical girl into the dome, and shut the door. “Get me my scythe, Trixie! I’ll be waiting where you killed Ardent.”
 

***

 
 Angrily, Trixie trod through the rainforest, her stomps kicking up mud everywhere. Sunset had just set fire to a beautiful forest, all to get what she wanted. It was so infuriating, Trixie wanted to scream.
 
 She did, but not because of anger, but because something had just grabbed her. Kicking her legs futilely, she looked up at her assailant. It was a strange hybrid of man and vulture, clad in a suit that would be at home in Appleloosa.
 
 Within moments, they reached the top of the dome. The vulture passed through a hole, and they were soon outside the dome, on top of it, in fact. He dropped her on the metal grating that covered the top of the dome, and she hit the floor hard.
 
 “What in Tartarus?” Trixie asked, trying to get up.
 
 “Exactly,” the vulture said. “They sent me to kill you. I’m partial to not, but orders are orders.” He flew down, and stepping around her, pulled a revolver out of a holster. “Revolvers are a thing of beauty… No gun has come close to being as pure an art form as they are. Six bullets. Anything more is pointless. The feeling of firing that last bullet is like nothing else.”
 
 “You really like guns, don’t you?” Trixie stood up, stance wavering in the harsh winds. “I’m not really into that fetish, sorry.”
 
 With a “Hmph”, the vulture twirled his gun, wings curling up behind him. “I see you prefer semi-automatics. Such soulless contraptions, designed for killing as efficiently as possible. Such a device could only have come from the griffons.”
 
 “Aren’t all guns griffon inventions? All Trixie needs is a wand and a tight outfit.”
 
 He laughed. “And I have no doubt you would look good in a tight outfit. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Vautor, lieutenant to the Grandmaster. And my special talent is an unerring eye… and an itchy trigger finger.”
 
 “I don’t suppose we could talk this out?”
 
 Vautor did not answer, instead turning to the sunset. “The red sun sets! Feel the wind. A sundowner. The forest burns.” He holstered his gun. “There will be no talks. I must kill you. It is only… fair.”
 
 “How about a duel?” Trixie asked.
 
 “A… duel?” The vulture occultist perked up at that, spinning to face her. “Guns at ten paces?”
 
 Trixie shrugged, stepping to the side a bit. “Whatever floats your boat. I don’t know much about duels.”
 
 “Very well. May the best man win.”
 
 They counted out ten paces, backs facing each other. They spun to face each other, hands darting to their guns. Trixie flexed her fingers, preparing to unholster her pistol.
 
 A freakishly long, purple tongue snaked out of Vautor’s beak, licking it.
 
 Trixie’s muscles tightened as she stared Vautor straight in the eyes. Neither one dared to blink.
 
 The wind blew, making their coats flap. A lone dove, fleeing from the firestorm, flew between them.
 
 They drew their guns, arms snapping like vipers.
 
 Pumping her gun as full of magical energy as she dared, Trixie pulled the trigger. She felt a sharp pain in her shoulder, and she stumbled backwards.
 
 Vautor staggered, a smoking hole where his heart should have been. He collapsed, slumping against the guardrail.
 
 Trixie clutched her shoulder, hand coming away painted with blood. She felt a little dizzy, but had no doubt that soon power would be coursing through her, accelerating the healing process. Taking unsteady steps, she walked over to Vautor, who by some miracle still breathed.
 
 “I never knew a semi-automatic could have such art. I would morn my own death were it not so… artistically done. Magic, instead of bullets.” He coughed, globs of blood spitting from his mouth. “I never wanted to kill you, you know. Such beauty, going to waste.
 
 “What we’ve done,” he continued, voice raspy, “is unthinkable. Such power in one man should never be. You must kill the Grandmaster before he leeches more power from Hastur. The portal is in the centre of the catwalks.”
 
 He made a gargling noise, and slumped even more. Trixie didn’t need to feel his pulse to know he was dead.
 
 Standing up, she turned to the centre of the catwalks. There was a subtle ripple in the air. Trixie guessed that had to be the portal to Tartarus.
 
 It wasn’t the first time and it likely wouldn’t be the last, but Trixie stopped to wonder why she was doing this. She had no reason to be fighting for the griffons. She had no reason to be fighting for Sunset, who had tried to kill her only a few hours ago. Then what was she fighting for?
 
 “My future,” she muttered to herself.
 
Still clutching her shoulder – Celestia, why had that not healed yet? – and the sun’s dimming heat on her back, she began to walk to the portal.
 
 Reaching it, she paused again. All she knew was the word of a dying not-man and a murderous woman. How did she know this would lead to Tartarus and not high up in the sky, sending her to a horrifying doom?
 
 “Only one way to find out.”
 
 She closed her eyes and stepped into the shimmering air.
 
 Being hit by an oppressive heat, she opened them. She had exited into a desert. It stretched as far as the eye could see. Shielding her eyes, she saw the sun in a noon position, perfectly positioned to shine on everything possible.
 
 “What in Tartarus?”
 
 “Exactly,” came a sickeningly-sweet voice.
 
 Trixie spun to come face-to-face with the skull of a goat. The skull was connected to broad shoulders, which was in turn part of a very large, grey-skinned man. He wore only a few straps and a loincloth.
 
 “Welcome to Tartarus, Trixie Lulamoon! I am Hastur!”
 
 At the sound of the name, Trixie unsheathed her sword and swung it at Hastur. It passed harmlessly through him, serving only to make him waver slightly. Hastur cackled.
 
 “Only an illusion! Shouldn’t you be used to them? Welcome to your new home, Trixie Lulamoon. You’ll be here for a long, long time. Don’t worry, you’ll have company.”
 
 He snapped his fingers, and behind him rose a great sight that made Trixie’s heart drop. An ursa major.
 
 “Lots, and lots of company.” Hastur’s image vanished, his laugh remaining long after he disappeared like the Cheshire cat’s grin.
	
	
> It Has To Be This Way
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

 
 
 For what seemed the hundredth time, the ursa major crushed Trixie under the weight of its paw. And then everything shimmered, and Trixie was whole again, standing on her feet. Except for the bullet hole in her shoulder, which had yet to heal.
 
 Trixie wasn’t sure how long she’d been in this hell. It felt like the ghost of Hastur had mocked her only a few minutes ago, but surely she had been killed by the ursa major countless times over.
 
 A roar cut through her thoughts. Not this time, she thought as she pulled out her sword. She couldn’t remember if she had tried using her sword on the behemoth.
 
 The ursa major towered over her, a bear-shaped nebula of stars and planets. It swiped at her, and she dashed out of the way, taking a swipe of her own at its paw. A gaseous stream emerged from where she had cut it.
 
 The monstrous bear raised its paw to its mouth, sucking where it had been hurt. Trixie slid forward to stab at a hind paw. It sunk in to the hilt, and when she pulled it out, a shimmering star came with it.
 
 The bear staggered, about to fall. Trixie rolled out from beneath it as it collapsed. Looking back at it, she saw to her surprise that Sunset Shimmer was on its back, her spear halfway inside the bear’s back.
 
 
 “Come on,” Sunset shouted as she back flipped off the stunned ursa major. “We don’t have much time.”
 
 Trixie ran towards her saviour, sand kicking up with every step. With a great leap, she barely managed to catch Sunset’s arm. The other girl pulled her up out of the pit.
 
 “How’d you kill it with one hit?” Trixie asked.
 
 “Haven’t you heard of blessed weapons?” Sunset replied, disdain in her voice. “Oh, no, you haven’t. You’re still a newbie, which is why I had to pull your butt out of the fire. Now come on, Hastur’s throne isn’t too far away and we need to hurry before the other demons figure out we’re human!”
 
Practically dragging Trixie, sunset started running at full speed. For the first time, Trixie could see a thorn-like structure in the distance. The curvature of the pit Hastur had trapped her in had prevented her from seeing it.
 
 “Is that his throne?”
 
 “He likes a good show,” Sunset muttered. “If we don’t hurry, he’ll be replacing Canterlot Castle with it in a few weeks.”
 
 For what seemed an eternity, the two girls ran. They passed demons of all shape and size. The demons would pause and look at them before returning to their strange work. Trixie shut her eyes to avoid looking at them. Some of the things they were doing were unspeakable.
 
 Without warning, the throne of thorns was suddenly no longer in the distance, but right before them. Trixie blinked. It hadn’t gotten any closer in their movements, but now it was there, only a few hundred feet away. What a mysterious realm, she thought.
 
 Hastur sat on the throne, goat head clutched under one shoulder. A large tongue of green flame sat where his head had been. A great scythe made out of skulls and bones sat next to him. As the girls drew closer, he stood and set the goat skull on his neck. The green flame flickered into the eye sockets, and he reached for his scythe.
 
 “Sunset Shimmer. We meet again. Was my blessing not enough? Did my blood not sate your thirst?”
 
 Sunset’s eyes darkened. “Hastur. You know what I want. And you should’ve expected this. Celestia did raise me to be a demon hunter.”
 
 A dry laugh reverberated off the throne of thorns. “And what of the whelp? I thought I had her trapped in a pit with her second greatest fear. Perhaps I should have expended more effort and trapped you there with the voices of those who mocked you instead. It’s harder to come back from that.”
 
 Turning to Sunset, he spoke again. “You know I am the Great Corruptor, he who caused the downfall of Sombra, the benevolent King in the North. You know I have already corrupted the man who will change the world. And you know your heart is corrupted as well as your soul.”
 
 Hastur spread his arms out, scythe in his left hand. “Well, what is it? Will you fight the Great Corruptor, Lord of this demon realm or will you leave the world to its fate?”
 
Sunset closed her eyes and opened her mouth to speak. Trixie clapped a hand over it and said, “We fight. You don’t belong in this world, monster.”
 
 “Enough talk!” bellowed Hastur. “Have at you!”
 
 He charged them, sweeping his scythe at their feet. Trixie and Sunset leapt over his clumsy blow. Snapping her fingers, Sunset brought her spear back into existence. Trixie, meanwhile, was coming down with her sword. The blow struck home, carving a deep wound into Hastur’s chest. The demon lord ripped the sword out and slammed the butt of his scythe into Trixie’s wounded shoulder.
 
 She let out a scream of pain and collapsed.
 
 Sunset landed behind Hastur and began to slash quickly with her spear. The blows landed on his back, ripping apart flesh and bone. The self-proclaimed Great Corruptor spun, bringing his scythe up. Sunset dodged it with a flip.
 
 “Show me your true self,” Hastur hissed, twirling his scythe. “The evil within.”
 
 “Fine,” Sunset growled.
 
 As Trixie watched, Sunset’s flesh rippled. Her fingers grew longer and sharper, and her skin turned red. Her ears turned into knives, and wings sprouted from her back.
 
 “Good! You still have it!” Hastur swung his scythe at Sunset’s neck, but the demon-girl flew beneath it, impaling Hastur on her spear. The head of it sunk into his grey skin, black blood bubbling to the surface.
 
 Hastur cackled, and with one hand grasped the spear and plunged it deeper into his middle. Sunset’s demonic face fell into a state of panic. She grabbed the spear and started pulling on it, but Hastur’s strength proved greater.

 With one final tug, the spear’s butt flew through his midsection. He brought the scythe up as Sunset tumbled towards him. The blade cut deep into Sunset’s stomach, and ripped upwards. A gout of red blood spurted out as he ripped the blade from her body.
 
 Her demon form shimmered, and Sunset collapsed to the ground, a girl again.
 
 Trixie stumbled to her feet, leaning on her sword. “Sunset–”
 
 Hastur struck her in the shoulder again, knocking her to the ground. He kicked her sword away.
 
 “What do you think?” he asked, looking over his shoulder. “A slow death or a quick one?”
 
 “Always go with slow,” came another voice. It sounded vaguely familiar to Trixie. She just couldn’t place. “She’s caused too much trouble to warrant a quick one.”
 
 A human stepped out from behind the throne. He was massive, at least seven feet tall. Hastur still dwarfed him, but he was still impressively built. His hood was down, revealing a harsh face and short, slicked back black hair.
 
 She recognised him. “You’re Reasons Fairly,” she gasped in-between spasms of pain. “I voted for you.”
 
“And now look where I am!” Reasons spread his arms out. “I’m going to change the world, starting with one thing.”
 
 His fist rammed into Hastur’s back and came out the other side, clutching a black heart.
 
 Hastur staggered, staring at his still-beating heart. If Trixie didn’t know better, she could have sworn the flames in his eyes were staring at it in disbelief.
 
 Hastur collapsed, leaving Reasons standing over him with a smug expression on his face.
 
 “Never turn your back on a politician,” he quipped. Crushing the demon’s heart, he stepped towards Trixie. “Don’t you hate speeches? They’re always long and boring. But not mine, eh? Short and to the point. Change for Equestria! No more kowtowing to other lands, we do what we want!”
 
 He smiled, and offered her a hand – not the one that was still stained black – and she took it. “Take your sword. I want to show you what’s changed about me. It’s more than just my political views.”
 
 Trixie limped over to where her sword had landed, clutching her shoulder in pain. It was bleeding again.
 
“I was elected on a very simple platform, remember? Equality! No more rubbish about ponies from distant lands being less treated like second-class citizens.”
 
 Trixie winced. Being from Romaneigh, that was exactly the reason she had voted for him. She was tired of being treated like horseapples even after hiding her backstory.
 
 Reasons was still talking. Like all politicians, he loved the sound of his own voice. “There was only one problem I found. Celestia. The old guard. So stubborn in her ways. Even more so when that stupid slut Luna came back from the moon. She should’ve stayed there.
 
 “Once Luna was back, I found all my progress slipping away! Just like that.” He clenched his fists tightly. “Come at me! Swing that sword of yours!”
 
Trixie gritted her teeth and swung it. Black crystals formed over his wrist and he blocked the blow with no harm done.
 
 “A gift of corruption,” he said, punching her in the gut. She staggered backwards with a grunt, almost dropping her sword. “Anyway, that stupid horse-faced Luna didn’t like what I was doing. She cut my foreign fund. Stupid woman.
 
 “I panicked and turned to something I had dabbled in my wasted youth. The Book of Hastur, which many thought banned. I found a copy in a little shop, next to a powerful-looking amulet. The amulet was worthless to me, but not you, huh?
 
 With another punch, he sent Trixie sprawling. “I was in contact with Hastur himself, like my ancestor Sombra! He taught me things I used to regain my influence in Celestia’s court. I had a new idea.
 
“I would take over the realm and usurp the throne of Celestia herself.”
 
 Trixie took advantage of Reasons’ posturing and dashed towards him, intending to impale him. The black shards of corruption appeared where the blade struck, making it bounce off.
 
 “With the blood pact I made with Hastur, I reshaped my staff into the demons you fought on your way to Tartarus. Vautor was my lieutenant. I hope you gave him the death he so desperately wanted.”
 
 Reasons grabbed her sword with a hand, and squeezing the blade, snapped it in two. He ripped what remained out of her hands and tossed it away
 
 “I dream a dream of a new Equestria. No gods, no masters, just the people, doing what the people want. What the people need. No laws to get in the way.”
 
 Trixie let out a feral yell and punched him in the gut. Corruption embraced her arm, sucking out the life from it. She ripped it free, tearing her sleeve off.
 
 “What do you think? Wouldn’t a world where everyone is equal be the ideal place? A dream that even now will be realised when I take control of Hastur’s dominion and invade!”
 
 “I thought you were crazy,” Trixie said, clutching her wounded fist. “but I was wrong.”
 
 “Ah! So you see what I mean. What I want for the people. A world for the people, by the people.”
 
 She nodded. He took a step over to her and laid a hand on her shoulder. “Maybe I was wrong about you, Trixie. Maybe we’ll make beautiful things together.”
 
“You’re not crazy,” Trixie said as he embraced her. “You’re insane!”
 
 She brought her knee up into his balls. He had no time to react, and the knee impacted hard. His corruption had no time to block it.
 
 Trixie flipped backwards, and got into a fighting stance. Green fire leapt from Reasons’ eyes and he stood unsteadily, clutching his crotch with one hand. “You’ve got fight in you, still. Shame we couldn’t be friends–”
 
 Something hit the ground in front of Trixie. Sunset’s spear! Sunset stood far behind Reasons, clutching her chest, keeping it in one piece. She nodded before collapsing once more to the ground.
 
 “God, even dead she’s a pain in my sweet ass,” Reasons grumbled. He turned back to Trixie. “So you’re really going to fight me, huh?”
 
 Trixie picked up the blessed spear and spun it, getting a feel for it. “You’re right.” She beckoned him. “You gonna fight or you gonna make another campaign speech?”
 
 Reasons charged her, head down, ready to ram it into her gut. Trixie closed her eyes and jammed the head of the spear into the ground. She used it as springboard to flip herself over Reasons, letting him go past.
 
 Slashing as quickly as she could, she cut through the corruption forming on Reasons’ back, slashing it to ribbons. The blessed blade then met his flesh.
 
 He spun around, knocking the spear away. With all of her might, Trixie held onto it. She smiled. He hadn’t expected that.
 
 She took steps towards him, slashing as quickly as she could. Sunset’s experience flooded into her, teaching her what she needed to know about the weapon. How it worked, how it felt.
 
 Leaping into the air, narrowly dodging another charge, Trixie closed her eyes and imagined a sphere of chains. To be safe, wrapped in chain. The spear reacted to her wish, cloaking her in a sphere of chains. The head darted towards Reasons, an infinite stream of chain following. It wrapped around his hands, clenching them tightly together.
 
 The tip sunk into his chest, carving deeply into his flesh, shattering the vile corruption.
 
 Trixie snapped her wrist, and the chains rattled back into their places, making the spear whole again.
 
 Reasons ripped a thorn from the throne, and charged her with it. She dodged it, tripping him. The shard bounced away from him. She drove the spear into his side, and ripped it out again.
 
 He smacked her away, and grabbed her by the shoulders. Pressing his thumb into her wounded shoulder, Reasons smiled. “Looks like your campaign is coming to a premature close,” he growled. “Should’ve withdrawn.”
 
 
 Sunset opened her eyes with a gasp. She could feel something still keeping her alive.
 
 Her eyes widened as she realised that Alastor was lying near her, dropped from Hastur’s hands when his heart had been ripped from his chest. If she could reach it, a binding spell could undo the damage it caused.
 
 Grimacing, she dragged herself over to it. She felt cold inside and knew that her time was close.
 
 Laying a hand on its shaft, she muttered a quick prayer and started to concentrate as deeply as she could. It had to work…
 
 
 The chains rattled, and the butt of the spear struck him in-between his eyes. He stumbled backwards, dropping Trixie.
 
 She rolled away from him, preparing for another one of Sunset’s tricks she learned from the spear.
 
 Producing her catalyst, she slammed the tip into the spear, charging it with magical energy. Thrusting it, she caught Reasons in the chest again, pumping him full of magical. In theory, it would dampen the corruption and allow her to get a final blow in.
 
 He charged her.
 
 Trixie smiled.
 
 “We’re done here,” she shouted, sliding towards him.
 
 The spear drove straight into his heart as he stampeded over her. She lost her grip, and he ran straight past her.
 
 Staggering, he turned towards her. “You’ve killed me.”
 
 “I’m glad we could have a heart-to-heart,” she said, walking over. Grasping the tip of the spear, she drove it deeper. She could hear a crack as the corruption that had eaten his heart shattered.
 
 “You were just like me,” he rasped. “Lost and angry. You realise you’re trapped here?”
 
 “I’ll find a way back,” Trixie said, ripping the spear out of his chest. “And we’re nothing alike. You’re full of greed and anger. I’m… I’m different. I want to fix things.”
 
 “So did I… I guess I passed one final thing to you. The desire… to fix Equestria.” Reasons let out a horrible gargle, and died.
 
 
 Trixie stood there a while, corruption dripping from the head and shaft of her spear. She had done it. She had stopped the demons from invading. She had killed a madman who wanted to reshape Equestria in his twisted image.
 
 “And all at the cost of one girl’s life,” she said softly.
 
 “Don’t count on it,” rasped Sunset Shimmer.
 
Trixie spun around, eyes wide as flapjacks. Sunset limped towards her, leaning on Hastur’s great scythe.
 
“But how–”
 
 Sunset smiled and raised a finger to her lips. “Binding spell. Demon hunters are bound to their weapons and can’t die by their own weapon. Once I bound myself to it, my body started to knit together again. Still hurts like a bitch.”
 
 Sunset’s shirt was little more than rags, barely covering the important bits. She still limped towards Trixie with a smile.
 
“I saw you fight Reasons. You’re even better with that spear than I was. Keep it. I got Alastor to keep me company now. I’ll teach you how to bind it to you when we get out of here.”
 
 Trixie’s eyes flashed to the horizon. “We might not get that lucky,” she said, pointing.
 
 Dust was being kicked up, shrouding a mass of creatures approaching. A veritable army of demons now stood between them and the portal home. They could see the twisted shapes rapidly approaching.
 
 “Oh, come on,” Sunset said, her smirk growing bigger. “You just took out a human with the power of a demon lord in addition to being doused in corruption. We can take this chumps.”
 
Trixie smiled. I guess so… I do feel stronger. She spun her spear. “Alright then.
 
 “Let’s dance.”