Chapter Four

The first blast from Twilight's horn crushed the air from Trixie’s chest and flung her into the mirror, shattering it. The second sent her crashing through a wall, then sailing across the backstage rooms, then barreling between the curtain’s folds—Trixie tumbled through the air, head over tail, head over tail, until finally she bounced to a stop at the edge of the stage. And because bad things often arrived in threes, the third blast ripped Trixie from the stage and hurled her into the stadium seats, where she now lay, agonized, her body spread across the length of two chairs with the pointed edge of a chipped armrest digging into her lower back.

Trixie gasped. She tried to inhale but spat blood as air escaped through a hole in her punctured lung.

Trixie twitched. She tried to move but the bones in her forelegs had been shattered and her spine felt like a knotted chain.

Trixie cried. She tried to think but was dizzy from blood loss. The viscous, black-red mess poured from a gash just above her pelvis—the wound like a crimson belt around her waist—and her insides felt the caress of a winter breeze as they surged up and breached the opening in her skin.

Trixie gurgled, choking on her own mortality. She was dying. Three blows from Twilight Sparkle, and she was already dying.

If Trixie hadn't gone deaf in both ears, she might have heard the rumble of Twilight's hooves as the purple mare charged up the steps. If blood hadn’t dripped into her eyes and blinded her, she might have seen the cataract of purple sparks that sprinkled down from her rival’s horn, leaving a trail of burn marks in her wake.

Doing her best to ignore the aches in her body, Trixie shut her blind eyes and, starting with her vitals, began conjuring mental images of her wounds. She pictured the puncture in her lung closing, the gash in her pelvis mending—and her horn blinked erratically as the mental images transcended thought and became reality.

Sweet breath filled Trixie’s newly repaired lungs, and her eyes snapped open just in time to see Twilight kick off the steps and bound toward her, leaping over several rows of seats. In mid-flight, the purple mare’s magic circle shrank to the size of a coin and zipped into her mouth. Then she swallowed the glowing coin, and a second later several columns of thick veins rose to the surface of her skin, showing beneath her purple hide.

Trixie’s jaw fell open as she watched her rival’s muscles swell to almost twice their original size.

A strength-enhancing spell. Trixie almost smiled. She had no idea Twilight was capable of such direct brutality.

Scrambling on limbs that weren’t fully healed, Trixie rolled in time to dodge Twilight's single-hooved stomp. Cement, stone and metal rippled like water, and though Trixie had avoided being crushed, the resulting shockwave tossed her like a rag doll. She pitched through the air and bounced off the backs of several chairs, skipping like a pebble across a pound, until finally she found her footing and skidded to a stop along the steps of the uppermost rows.

Dazed, she aimed her still flickering horn at the crater where Twilight had landed, and gave a start when she realized her rival was nowhere to be seen. Her head swiveled as she scanned the stadium. She looked left. She looked right. She looked left again—and in flash of light and a burst of parting air, Twilight appeared at Trixie’s side, balanced nimbly on her hind legs. Trixie had time to rear up on her hind legs and turned to face Twilight, but nothing else. She watched the purple mare’s hips rotate, and saw the brawny foreleg cut the empty air as it arched toward her, but could do nothing to stop the heavy front hoof from sinking into her underbelly.

A new wave of pain rippled through her body as her ribs shattered and poked through her sides. Trixie gasped. Clutched her stomach. Folded double. Vomited. She started falling forward, but Twilight struck her beneath the chin, breaking her jaw and snatching the ground from under her.

The blow rattled Trixie. She blacked out—losing a moment—and when her sense returned, she felt a cloud kiss her face with downy lips. The lips made her skin tingle as she shot through the cloud, climbing higher and higher as if meaning to touch the moon.

Trixie blinked, unsure of what she was seeing. Her mind buzzed. She was overwhelmed. Twilight was too fast for her. Too strong. She couldn’t beat the haughty unicorn fighting her head on. She needed to think of something. She needed a strategy. She needed—

Another flash of light found Trixie’s gaze, this one blinding. Neon spots danced before the performer’s eyes, and somewhere behind the spots she saw Twilight appear, her horn glowing, her mouth gnarled by a grim scowl, her eyes piercing the night like twin spear points.

With a bloodthirsty battle cry on her lips, Twilight clasped her front hooves together and brought them down in thudding hammer blow to her rival’s gut that ruptured Trixie's stomach and sent her careening back down toward the earth.

Trixie cried out as she fell, her hooves outstretched as if reaching for her rival, perhaps hoping to be swept up in Twilight’s forelegs and held close to her strong chest one last time. But her hopes were dashed when she felt the sting of hoof upon crash down upon her cheekbone. A second blow caved in her eye socket. A third broke her nose. And as the stadium neared the volume of strikes to her face, neck, and chest increased, each one more devastating than the one before.

Twilight lost herself to a maddening fit of rage. She pummeled Trixie as the two of them dropped from the sky. One blow for every night she slept alone huddled under a bridge with nothing but rags to keep her warm. One blow for every time she had to raise her hoof in violence against an innocent pony in order to avoid capture. One blow for every day spent in the presence of enemies rather than friends. One blow for every irreplaceable moment Trixie had stolen and enjoyed in her place: every birthday party, every first love and first heartbreak—Rainbow becoming a Wonderbolt and the crusaders gaining their cutie marks and the birth of her brother’s first born son. Her nephew who Twilight had learned about only a few days before coming here. Whose name she didn’t even know.

With an avenging cry on her lips and tears in her eyes, she pounded her rival until the two of them crashed down upon the center of Trixie’s beloved stage. One blow and one more and one more, and still never enough.  

The impact pulverized the stage, reducing it to a twisted pile of metal, wood, glass and cloth. Bits of rubble flew into the air, and when the dust settled after hanging about for some time Trixie lay broken at her rival’s hooves, her chest rising and falling weakly with her final breaths.

Twilight sank into thought as she stood over the mangled form of her ex-lover, her muscles small again. She stared down with disgust, watching Trixie’s horn blink…blink…blink…then fade.

Climbing from the hole took some doing. It wasn't terribly deep, but Twilight was tired. A bone deep exhaustion had settled in her limbs. Though she hadn't suffered a single blow, her body ached. Using such a powerful spell for so long was amateurish mistake, one she would pay for tomorrow morning when she woke up sore all over.

Tomorrow morning... Just the idea of it confused her emotions. Would things be different tomorrow? Would she wake up in a new world, one free of Trixie's tricks? Twilight didn’t know if killing Trixie would undo the memory-manipulation spell, but in any case that was too daunting an issue to tackle in her current state. Right now all that mattered to Twilight as fleeing from this horrid place as quickly as she could.

Twilight headed for the exit. She didn’t look back, but she did cry. Trixie was dead. It was okay to cry now.  

The purple mare was only a few steps away from Trixie's final resting place, when suddenly the air around her became sweltering. She spun around without a moments hesitation, eyes wide with grim disbelief.

In a brilliant flash of light, Trixie’s magic circle appeared above the stage. The patterns inside the circle fused together, twisting into a single shape: an ankh, the symbol for an advanced regeneration spell.

The performer floated from the hole—a phoenix from the ashes—her injuries healed, her tattered cape fluttering stormily as sparks danced about her glowing horn.

"Trixie's turn..." she breathed, flashing a crooked smile.  

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Though he was nestled deep within the silken opulence of Castle Canterlot, Spike was trapped in a wakeful dream of discomfort. His mattress was too soft, his pillows too downy, his sheets too warm and snug. Unable to sleep, he tossed his blankets aside, rose, and paced the length of his private castle chamber.

It was a guest room of sorts, lavish, but not so decorated as to be garish. The carpet was velveteen to the touch, and the curtains were of a fine silk that fluttered with dove-like grace as Spike threw them open. He stood up on tiptoe and rested his elbows on the windowsill, sighing romantically. He wanted to see Trixie. He wanted her to open his camber door and prance inside with her head held high as she shamelessly declared herself the most gorgeous, most talented unicorn in all of Equestria.

It was no secret that Trixie could be obnoxious at times. Truthfully, it wouldn’t be far-fetched to claim that she possessed more bad traits than good, but her few virtuous qualities outshined the others with a stunning radiance that had illuminated an entire nation. Equestria was a brighter, richer place because of Trixie. She was more than a talented magician; she was an inspiration. She had come from humble beginnings, lived a wicked life, sought redemption, worked hard, endured her lover’s betrayal, sank into depression, bounced back—and at the end of it all, had somehow emerged a national hero.

This was Trixie's true magic: the magic of an indomitable spirit. The ponies of Equestria didn't love her because she could halt a raging storm. They loved her because she had reminded them of something they hadn’t realized they’d forgotten: that a single pony could transcend her lot in life and become something truly great and powerful.

But greatness is often hated and feared. Naturally, a greatness as influential as Trixie's was destined to inspire not only admiration, but envy as well.

There was a time when Spike had believed a mare as dignified as Twilight Sparkle was above something as petty as envy. And, staring out from his chamber that overlooked the labyrinthine courtyard below, he fumed at the thought of Trixie being alone with that traitor.

Upon arriving at the castle, Spike had been struck with the notion that he should inform the Royal Guard of Twilight’s return. Spike knew Twilight wasn't a threat to be taken lightly, but there had been such calm, confidence in Trixie’s voice as she ordered him to leave. It was clear to the dragon that Trixie wanted to speak with her old mentor in private, and that she knew what she was doing. Perhaps Trixie's plan was to convince Twilight to turn herself in and seek Celestia's forgiveness, just as Trixie had once sought Twilight's. Spike could only hope as he rested his chin upon the sill. He let his gaze tilt upward and stared at nothing in particular as he waited for Trixie to return...

And perhaps Twilight's as well. Spike wanted to see Trixie again, and he wanted to see Twilight just a badly. They were his surrogate sisters, Twilight and Trixie, and it broke his heart to think they might be fighting somewhere.  

High above the brooding dragon, Luna's silver-lit moon wanted for nothing. It was the very picture of tranquility, and as it smiled down on Spike, the young dragon remembered a time when the alicorn’s moon had appeared morose. His mood brightened some as he recalled one fateful Nightmare Night when a caring mare in a silly costume touched the heart of a goddess.

Trixie had been at her very best that night.  

…Or…had that been Twilight?

The thought escaped Spike as he caught site of something bright streaking toward the earth. A falling star, he wondered dreamily as he watched it plow into the courtyard with earth-shaking force.

Another falling star streaked into Spike's line of sight. But instead of crashing, this one stopped in mid-flight and remained hovering above the maze of greenery.

Spike saw a familiar flash of light. His eyes widened in shock.

The courtyard—suddenly it was on fire.