Trixie tossed her head with a flourish, her horn glowing, and a line drew itself in the earth before her, erupting into a fountain of white-hot sparks. She braced herself upon her makeshift stage, splayed her hooves, and regarded the great dark goat on the other side of her wall down the length of her muzzle with all the smug condescension she could scrape up.

Despite the goat's height, Trixie's perch on the great slab before the cliff wall forced him to look up at her with his solid red, faintly glowing eyes. One eyebrow lifted infinitesimally, but the effect of his disregard was marred by the way he cradled one of his front legs, and by the hitch in his heavy breathing. Twilight had been so close.

Trixie glanced back at the violet heap just behind her. Twilight had almost done it. She'd had the demon on the ropes, but... she'd been too clumsy with her new wings. He'd seized one in his mouth and wrenched her to the ground, and Twilight hadn't been prepared for that new pain. It had been kid's play for the ancient evil to wrench the wing-shoulder out of joint against Twilight's still fledging flight muscles, and with a great shake of his head, he had flung Twilight through the air as she screamed. Trixie had heard the long bone of the wing snap wetly. Twilight had landed, the scream had cut off, and she had not gotten up.

So here Trixie was, then. A small, bitter smile graced her lips. Trixie could see the shape of it now—she could see her place, and it wasn't in the spotlight. She was a bit player beside Twilight Sparkle, hardly to be missed. The show would go on without her, but it needed Twilight.

And the show must go on.

Her bitter smile disappeared behind an arrogant grin. She arched her neck and reared onto her hindlegs in wordless challenge. The wind even co-operated, and her cape streamed out behind her.

Her horn lit, and she charged down from her stage. With a flash, a dozen images of herself appeared in line with her, galloping toward her foe. But Grogar's eyes pulsed a brighter red, and he locked his gaze on the true Trixie immediately. She had no time to try a plan B—immediately Grogar charged head-first into her with a low, guttoral growl. She had only a moment to notice the tip of one of his horns pressed against her belly before the charge crushed her against the cliff wall.

Trixie did not scream. Her back half was afire with confused pain, and as she looked down, she saw blood, and a black horn buried in her gut. She clutched at the goat's head, clamping her teeth to one of his ears in stubborn defiance. Her eyes squeezed shut against the pain, but the corners of her mouth forced themselves up into a teeth-baring grin.

For one night only, the Great and Powerful Trixie would top the bill above Twilight Sparkle. And the Great and Powerful Trixie would live forever.

She pulled together the last scraps of her will. Her horn burned white, and white light streamed between her screwed-shut eyelids.

On with the show!

Author's Note

Prompt: You can kill a pony, but you can't kill an idea.