The air is chilled by a night wind, sweeping away the muggy weight of a summer day and opening sky overhead to a dark void of stars and ink. The trees sway gently, bearing the weight of the breeze without moaning or crying. The water stirs, but it makes not a noise. The whole glade seems to stand in reverence to the broken statue jutting forth from the water.

It isn't as interesting as they had insisted. The 'they' who said that all the great artists come through the glade. The 'they' who spoke of inspiration, as if it were rain.

The marble mare's face in the water is nowhere near as fascinating as the breathing one sitting beside a fire, eyes filled with wonder. She seems hollow, unaware of the space around her. Her silvery mane and blue coat are tinged with orange and red from the dancing tongues nearby.

"Leave," she orders, with surprising clarity for one unconscious of company. "The Great and Powerful Trixie can't have friends."

The fire is warm and lively, though the breeze of the night is enviable as well. Rolling her eyes, this 'Trixie' gestures to a sort of stump that just might serve as a suitable seat. It is across the fire from her.

"Fine. But the Great and Powerful Trixie doesn't need your pity. It's not Trixie's fault if something happens." Her eyes dance for the briefest of moments toward the still and broken statue sobbing in your direction with a single hollow eye that still remains above the level of the water.

The night is still quiet. The popping of the fire and the empty words the wind whispers are all that is to be heard. Trixie seems bothered, restless. She looks across the fire, and takes offense at something she sees. "What? Trixie is busy! Leave her be."

But she is not busy, and the near-silence of the wind and the fire make that all too clear.

"Fine!" she shouts, without provocation. "If this is so boring, perhaps Trixie will tell a story! How does that sound?" She looks aside and mutters "Imbecile", as if it could have passed unheard. "Perhaps Trixie is a good subject for our story. There certainly isn't anything else in this stupid forest worth talking about."

She's lying. It's obvious when her eyes scream her true thoughts, darting over to the statue again. It hasn't moved or changed expression. It seems perfectly content to drown in pond, one eye weeping without tears from above the water. Perhaps, when it rains, the poor mare can finally release her feelings.

Trixie begins as though out of a history book.

"Well, Melpomane, Spirit of Tragedy, let's hear what you've got to say. Give your blessing to Trixie. Of course, she doesn't need your 'blessing'. In fact, Trixie thinks she's better off without it." With every word, a bit of Trixie rose up from the sobbing heap beside the fire to a force of pride, charisma, and sheer willpower. "Now, listen and be broken by the glorious and terrible tale of the Great and Powerful Trixie."

She rears up, waving her forehooves wildly, and then focusing her attention across the fire. "Nopony becomes as great as Trixie with an easy life. Even the natural talent of the Great and Powerful Trixie would not have reached their potential without a challenge to bring them up.

"Trixie's challenge began in a little village. It does not matter where. She doubts you would recognize the name if she told you. A mining village of only earth ponies. When Trixie was born, she got the recognition she deserved; she was a miracle to them. Some were afraid, and some were inspired–as it ought to be.

"But Trixie's life was easy. Her every pathetic magic trick was unfathomable to her friends and family. Why would they expect her to ever get better, if she was already above what any of them could ever be? So she played with sparks, and lifted silverware to eat, and spent her days as the focus of everypony's attention.

"This little village's mine led to a vein of copper, when Trixie was born. But when she was four, they struck something new entirely. A huge cluster of dazzling gems came out of the mine. Ponies talked about what to do with their new wealth. Plans were made for feasts, and huge mansions, and other stupid plans, by ponies with no imaginations to speak of. But Trixie's family thought of something better. They got their money together, and sent Trixie to Canterlot.

"It was supposed to be a long journey. After all, nopony from the small village had ever even seen Canterlot. Trixie was so excited, as any filly would be. An older pony from the village had agreed to bring her along in his wagon. He didn't talk much, with the dust that had shredded up his lungs. Trixie didn't mind. She was too busy getting ready to meet other unicorns–maybe even Princess Celestia.

"Finally, the day came. Trixie rode off in her wagon, waving to her family. They hugged her, and told her they wished her luck. And then it was time to go. The wagon wound out of the little village, and down the road through the forest. Trixie sat, and waited, and soon it started to get dark. And when it did get dark, Trixie thought she heard a loud, scary noise. Of course, Trixie wasn't really scared, but she was a little filly, and she wasn't as strong as she is now.

"Anyway, when the sun was most of the way down, and the sky was getting dark, Trixie saw something terrible. A huge pillar of smoke, reaching up enough to block out the sun, coming from her home. Trixie didn't say anything to the old pony; she just jumped down out of the wagon and started running back. Her little legs weren't very fast, but she had a lot of energy, and she was scared. As she got closer, she saw whole trees knocked down, and burning embers where bushes used to be. And then, finally, she found her home. And she saw him."

Trixie's horn ignites, sending up a red flare. It bursts into a shape familiar perhaps not from experience, but certainly from the stories of youth. A huge red dragon, wings spread and mouth billowing a pillar of deadly fire.

"Her name was Nariandrix, and she had heard about the gems in the mine. So she came, and took them. By the time Trixie arrived to the rescue, the village was already rubble and ashes. The mine had caved in. All that was left of Trixie's family were burnt bones and ashes. Trixie was never more sad in her whole life, or more scared, than when she saw what was left of her home and her childhood, and the huge dragon that smelled her on the wind.

"Nariandrix looked down at Trixie, and smiled. It wasn't a nice smile, like Trixie's; it was a huge smile, filled with razor-sharp teeth. Trixie was afraid, but she was so sad, and so angry, that she didn't run. She thought it was her fault. She was their unicorn. If she'd been in the village, her family would still be alive. Now they were all dead. So what did Trixie do? She pointed her horn at the dragon, and shouted at her. 'You killed my family, Dragon! You're going to pay!'

"The dragon laughed at Trixie, and spoke back to her. 'You think you can fight Nariandrix, little filly? I'm not really hungry anymore. Why don't you leave your gems and go away? I'll let you leave.'

"Trixie shook her head. 'No, dragon! You're going to pay!' And Trixie concentrated everything she ever did with magic into her horn. She wasn't sure what she wanted to do; only that she was sad, and angry, and that she wanted her family back."

Trixie's horn beings to glow with a brilliant light.

"Trixie 's magic grabbed the dragon, and it seemed confused. It looked around, but before it could even move, Trixie tossed it up in the air, and brought it slamming back down."

Her flare snaps, and for a moment, all light in the clearing becomes a single blinding beam. Then the world returns, still as quiet and dim as ever.

"The sound was deafening. The dust swept past Trixie, putting out all the fires and driving a huge pit into the middle of the village. And the dragon lay still, dead."

Trixie stares across the fire, wearing a smile. "Trixie earned her Cutie Mark that way, but she also lost her family. She vowed never to give up, and to become the greatest unicorn who ever lived. And now, she has."

Her smile fades slowly, and with the same slow wasting pace, her legs collapse beneath her. Soon, she is once more a lump on the ground beside the fire. "You don't believe Trixie? She thought it was a good story. So what if it wasn't true?"

The breeze continues. The fire crackles. The stars twinkle slowly overhead, and the half-sunken statue remains still. All is as it should be.

Trixie's eyes dart to the statue again. "Fine. You want to know why Trixie really travels? You won't like it. It's the only time Trixie has ever failed, and she swore never to fail again." She sighs, and glances to the statue. "Okay, you asked for it.

"The whole story about the gem mine was true. Sure, Trixie knows it wasn't such a big deal, but her family was poor. They didn't know that some turquoise wasn't as valuable in the big city as it was in their backwater town. So they sent Trixie with a bag of little blue stones to try and learn magic from Princess Celestia."

Trixie looks off in the direction where some hours ago, the sun set. "It was going to take three weeks to make the trip. Trixie practiced her magic every day, but she didn't do anything amazing. She thought she was the best, until three days before they reached Canterlot. In Vanhoover, Trixie saw a magician. She can't remember the name anymore. He was two-bit, really. But at the time, he was the first unicorn who could really do something with his magic. And Trixie was afraid. Compared to him, she couldn't do anything.

Trixie seems amused by the memory. "He called Trixie out of the audience, and pulled a gold bit out of her ear. It was the most money Trixie had ever seen, and he let her keep it. She was so amazed, so she asked him to teach her a trick. He told her that he couldn't teach her in a night. Trixie insisted she was a fast learner, and after begging him, she got him to agree. He taught her how to distract another pony, so they would look away from something. An 'attention' spell that only lasted a second. Now it's simple magic for Trixie, but back then, it took her all night to learn. Trixie almost asked to stay with him then and there, but the old pony from her village got her to let it go.

"Not long after, Trixie reached Canterlot, just in time for the applications to Princess Celestia's School. Trixie got into an interview. The ponies from the school asked her to hatch a dragon egg." Trixie sighs. "Trixie had never done anything so complicated. She stared at the egg for a long time. Then, thinking quickly, Trixie used her attention spell–and it worked! Even as a filly, Trixie could best the teachers at the academy. While they were looking away, Trixie grabbed the egg and tried to pry it open with her hooves. It didn't work, but when the teachers looked back, they applauded. They told Trixie she'd be Princess Celestia's favorite for sure, and that she'd be the best unicorn who ever lived. The Great and Powerful Trixie! She was so happy. She went outside to wait, and meet the Princess. As she was leaving, a little purple filly walked into the room. Trixie didn't know what happened, except that the building shook, and light shone out from under the door.

"Then Trixie saw her: Princess Celestia. She rushed down the hall. Trixie was excited. She called out to her! But the princess ignored Trixie. And when the door opened, Trixie saw why. Twilight Sparkle. That… stupid, untalented filly had hatched the egg, by blind luck. And she became Princess Celestia's student. Trixie was heartbroken. She didn't even want to be at the school anymore. She left, and went back to Manehattan. She found the magician. He taught her magic, until she was stronger than he was. It didn't take long. Like Trixie said, he wasn't very good. But Trixie vowed to prove to the world that she was the best unicorn. Someday, she'd prove she was better than Twilight Sparkle. And until Trixie found her, she'd wander Equestria, proving she was better than every unicorn she found. She never failed again… until she met Twilight Sparkle again in Ponyville."

Trixie show's no subtlety this time. She turns to the statue and stares at it. It seems like ages before her eyes break away. Then her eyes are wet, and slipping slowly. Not huge tears of emotion and agony, but the little raindrops that come from an enduring pain, or an old wound reopened.

"Was that story not good enough for you? Or is it Trixie who isn't good enough?" Her head snaps around toward the fire, fast enough to throw the droplets from her face. For just a moment, it rains around her. Then all is still, save the orange tongues and the slow draw of her chest. "Fine. Trixie can tell another story. But it isn't about her. If that doesn't suit you, you should leave. It's a sad story. The story of a lost little filly who never did anything wrong, but got hurt for it."

A single swallow provides the mare's prelude.

"Like Trixie, this filly was a unicorn from a town where nopony could teach her. She tried to get a start in Canterlot. But unlike Trixie, she didn't pass her exam. She failed. She wasn't good enough. It wasn't her fault; she'd had to teach herself. But the fact was, she couldn't compete with ponies who'd had books, and friends, and family. Ponies who knew what they were doing, while she was flailing in the dark. She was heartbroken, and near to giving up, so she ran away. Left Canterlot behind, and wandered the countryside.

"It was hard for this poor filly. When most fillies were playing and learning in school, she had to work, and she slept in an alley. She hid from the guardsponies. She didn't want to face her family. She knew they'd hate her if they found out she failed.

"But the filly's sorrow wasn't from her situation. She ate well enough to survive. In time, she found a job at a tailor's shop. She liked to practice with her magic, and the needles were hard to grab. It was hard work, but meaningful. Eventually, the tailor even gave her a home, and a bed. When he asked where her family was, the filly lied–not to the tailor, but to herself. She said they were mean, and that they hated her. They both believed her."

Trixie sighs. "When she had free time, the filly pretended she'd gotten into the school, and that she was a powerful wizard. She'd run around with her horn all lit up, making pops of light and little noises like firecrackers. The tailor made her a cape and a hat out of some spare fabric, and soon she was inseparable from them.

"As the filly grew, she started exploring her environment. She was growing restless, and too big to stay with the tailor. One night, when orders were short, she made her way out into the woods. She was just wandering, but she found a pond, and a statue."

Trixie rose, and paced slowly over to the statue. The wind swept through her mane as she stared at the half-sunken face.

"She thought she was alone."

Silvery beams, almost like cords, dangle from the stars overhead. They seem to be reaching for Trixie. Either she doesn't recognize them, or she can't bring herself to care.

"The filly flopped down on her chest when she was what was in the woods. Everypony in town had said there was supposed to be something secret and inspiring. All she found was a lousy, sunken statue."

The cords wrap around Trixie's ankles, firm but gentle. They do not mean to harm her, it is clear.

"She must have said something. She was bored. The words aren't important, really. But when she said her words, it appeared. At first, it was a boring brown mare, standing beside the water."

With a sudden lurch, the silvery threads on Trixie's ankles move, and her body strides out onto the water. She can't be said to be walking on it, really, so much as being held above it. Her face lacks shock, as heartbroken as it is. She doesn't seem to notice her predicament as she continues.

"The mare called herself Muse, when she finally deigned to speak to the poor filly. 'What a beautiful cape you have, and a hat as well. How can one so blessed be bored, in a world of wonders like ours?"

Trixie shook her head. "'I know all about the woods. There's nothing out here but a statue and a pond and you. All my friends are busy, but I've got nothing to do.' The filly rolled over. 'I was going to make a new outfit, but I can't even come up with a design. Why can't I be a wizard, like I was supposed to?'"

Trixie unleashes a bitter chuckle with a voice that seems not to be her own, accentuated by the sorrow written on her face. "You could, you know. All you need is the inspiration. But that comes at a price."

Trixie's face dropped to one of sorrow. "What do you mean?"

The wind spins, picking up the water around Trixie's hooves. "It's simply a question of art, my dear. The art of magic, or the art of design, or simply the art of gathering attention. You want some of all of those, and I can offer them to you, if you are willing to devote yourself."

Trixie winced, and a pair of perfect teardrops slid across her face. "O-okay?"

And then, from over Trixie's head, a mare of quicksilver appears. In her hoof is a pair of wooden beams in the shape of a cross. The silver cords at Trixie's ankles move calmly with subtle motion of the rods, and Trixie moves in turn.

"The mare changed. She became… another creature altogether. And before the filly could even scream, Muse took the filly's hoof. And then she spoke. 'Art, my dear, is about searching for perfection. You needed inspiration beyond the beauty of the world and the company of friends." Trixie's mouth stops moving, but the words continue. "If your home do not inspire you, then put it behind you. If friends do not give you your desires, forgo them. Only the goal remains. When you find it, you will know.'

"At first, the filly was terrified. Muse sunk beneath the waves and disappeared. She thought perhaps that was it. Perhaps it was just advice. So she walked out of the woods, and went home to the tailor.

“When she arrived, he showed her a beautiful dress, made for her. And when she opened her mouth to thank him, a scoff came out. ‘Disgusting,’ she said. ‘I can do better.’ He was furious and hurt, but he shook his head. His cutie mark was that of a tailor. How could she challenge him? She answered by making the most beautiful dress he had ever seen, and waving it in his face.

“He responded by kicking her out. Her home was gone. Her best friend had vanished from beneath her nose. When her other friends confronted her, she shot down their dreams and mocked them. Yet behind every insult, and every snide glare, there was a silent tear inside, and a begged apology. None of them ever escaped.

“When she’d bested them all, her reward was to be driven out of town. And so she wandered, but in every town she met the same fate. Her magic was too versatile and too cunning for even herself to stop. Her tongue was sharper than any razor, and it would not permit an explanation, nor a cry for help. With every step, and every word, and every spell, she learned to hate the idea of perfection.”

Trixie smiles, looking through the fire. “So now you know. I finally said something. So please... please, help me.”

And from above, Muse looks down and shakes her head. Who could she be begging, when she's the only one in the clearing?