The Incandescent Brilliance
The Incandescent Brilliance
The Core appeared in the middle of the room.
There in the passing of a second, it existed. It cast out wisps of pure magical energy which, like the leaves of a dying tree caught by the wind, scattered themselves through the air, dancing and cavorting.
The researchers scattered. They cried, they clawed. They scrambled to safety, yelling names and pleading for help in a singular desperate voice.
But soon, the voice stopped.
Thick sheets of metal had fallen over the doors and windows, and a glimmer swept across the walls, ceiling and floor.
It was an anti-magic field, a precaution put into place for a disaster just like this one.
But it also severed the threads of magic that supplied the room with heat and light, and a new world was born within the walls of the laboratory – one of night and shadow and the chill of nothingness.
At the center of it all was the Core, and against the wall sat the mare.
For all of three minutes the only thing the mare could hear was an incessant whine – a high-pitched buzzing that rang behind the ears and in the deepest crevices of her brain.
Her eyes would only conjure the edges of things, but there were not many things to see save the mystical shapes that already lent themselves to disclarity.
She could barely feel the cold brick against her back or the cold metal tiles she lay upon, as if she floated in a bubble disconnected from reality.
The darkness swarmed. It turned inside out, and back again. It closed in, around her head, drowning her in deep waters. It swirled forever down, and she fell through the world without purchase.
For all of three minutes she floated through this hideous space as the ringing of her mind finally died down, only to be replaced by a low hum that reverberated through the room.
The mare dared to open her eyes.
The first thing she saw was the sphere in the center of the room – a gigantic mass of pitch, a gouge in reality, a gaping maw with a thousand tiny white teeth that blinked and winked and twinkled like the stars in a perfect night sky.
It floated without concern in the middle of its private galaxy, sending out its phantom wisps to inhabit the space around it.
These wisps left a glittering dust behind as they flew, constantly circling their sire. Black as night and thin as silk, they deposited a softly glowing miasma of white that faded back to black after a few moments had passed.
It was like staring after a rock that had been thrown into a pond – the only evidence of its existence were the ripples left behind in its wake.
This was all the light that could be afforded, barely enough to give faint outline to the myriad of objects that lay strewn around the room.
Everything was cloaked in veils, mere shapes that represented what they used to be.
A table here, a desk there; a chair and a lamp and a clipboard that the earlier stampede sent to the ground; a set of beakers that used to hold potential but currently held nothing; cupboards full of now-useless baubles; and complex devices that were once being used to unlock the secrets of the magical universe.
All of it was overlaid by that strange, low humming noise.
The mare couldn’t finish a single one of the thousand thoughts that ran through her mind.
She sat for a while, steadying her breathing, letting realisation take over all her senses and sensibilities. It was a simple call from the corner that broke her from her stupor, her body finally returning to her control.
“Miss Lulamoon! Miss Lulamoon!”
“Yes?” The mare responded calmly.
“Miss Lulamoon! Are you okay?”
“Yes. Of course.”
“Ow!” the voice yelled.
Trixie turned, an intense frown appearing on her face as she shouted into the darkness.
“Russet. Russet! Are you alright?” Trixie shifted in place to get a better look.
It was tricky to see the young stallion behind the swathes of cloth that flurried around the room, but he came crawling, on his knees and chest, through the equipment that lay scattered upon the hardened floor.
“Scratched myself on a bit of broken glass, Miss Lulamoon.”
“Russet, listen to me. Go find a far corner. Sit. Save your strength and calm your heart. Don’t bother using your magic. The field’s in place. Better to save your energy for other things.”
The rapid breathing of the young stallion permeated through the dull hum of the room as Trixie heard him shuffle back to where he came from. But his voice came clear through the darkness, and he eventually stuttered a simple question.
“Miss Lulamoon! What happened?”
The project held dire consequences – everypony had known that going in. It was something new, something dangerous. There was no avenue for regret; they had no excuse not to be prepared. But still, the answer to that question was not something so easily arrived at.
“What happened, Russet, is that we owe each other a bit of congratulations,” the old, shaking voice said.
“M-miss?”
“We did it. We were successful. We have created a complete void in all its glory. It’s such a…” Trixie grasped for the words, “... shame that it had to be unveiled in such a manner.”
“Miss…” His voice took on a faltering note.
Trixie pressed on. There was no sense in stopping halfway.
“We did it, Russet. She’s stable. Look at it. Surely, a momentous occasion, one befitting a cheer, perhaps, or a spot of champagne.”
Trixie coughed. She let loose a small flurry of rapid barks, ending with a rumbling grunt as she cleared her throat.
“Miss Lulamoon, are you sure you’re alright?” Russet asked once more, frantically.
“Yes. Don’t worry. It was just a bit of dust. Throat isn’t what it used to be.”
“But Miss Lulamoon—”
“Please,” she cut him off. “Trixie. Call me Trixie.”
“Y-yes, Miss Trixie.”
“No. Just ‘Trixie’.”
“Yes, T-Trixie.”
“Good.”
A moment passed.
“And how’s your leg?” Trixie shut her eyes. “Was it hurt badly?”
“I-I don’t think that’s important right now, Miss T—”
“Ah, ah, ah.” Trixie tutted. “What did we say?”
“But… Miss Trixie, it wouldn’t be polite!”
The mare spared another look around. Every once in a while, one of the wisps would stray too close to a wall and burst into searing white fireworks, dusting sparks of light over whatever lay beneath. It was the pure silence of it that was upsetting. One always expects noise when one sees something so glorious.
Her eyes had started to adjust, and she could make things out a little better.
She turned to the figure in the corner – a weeping, scared little figure that huddled up against the walls and shuddered with defiance. He was a soldier fighting for the last few things that remained.
“Alright then.” Trixie nodded with a smile to herself. “Call me ‘Miss Trixie’.”
Another small bout of silence fell between the two.
“What happens now?” Russet asked, quietly, hesitantly, barely above a faint utterance.
“It depends.” Trixie tilted her head down.
“On what, Miss?”
“What you would like to hear.”
The hum in the room grew a little louder.
“What do you mean, Miss?”
“I’m going to give you a choice.” Trixie’s smile faded. “Would you rather hear what you need to or what you want to?”
“I… do not understand, Miss,” was the reply.
“Yes you do,” Trixie stated, adamant. “Take your time.”
Trixie sat and thought, her attention removed from the conversation. For what did any response matter any more?
She had pressed her question fiercely. Not to upset, not to depress, but out of the belief that one ought never tarry in delusion.
She had come to this philosophy a long time ago, when she was a pony unrecognizable to herself now. Trixie thought back to those times while she waited.
She gave Russet the concession of patience. After all, what rush did they have?
But despite the necessity of it all, it still stung her heart to hear his chokes come in suddenly, as his breaths started to waver somewhere between desolation and anger.
It went on for a while, a voice struggling to understand what it did not want to. Even at the end, desperation and hope played powerful forces in the fight against unwanted truth.
All the while, the pathetic sounds of a young stallion collapsing into primal grief stung Trixie’s left ear with sobs, chokes, heavy breaths and the whining of the helpless child that he had been reduced to.
For that was all they were, there in that room. Ineffectual foals who could not fend for themselves. Children who needed help with every small act they wished to accomplish and every emotion they wished to relate. Toddlers who were limited in scope and life; every entitlement had been stripped from their capacity.
All they could do was cry and wish that someone would come.
“How old are you?” Trixie asked, suddenly, still in impeccable serenity.
“Twenty-one, Miss.” the stallion gasped.
“So young. You’re one of the youngest on the team, aren’t you?”
“Yes, Miss,” the young stallion said, voice still in waver. “Holly and I share the same year.”
“Ah yes. I remember. I picked both of you together for the team. I remember being impressed by you in very different ways.”
The room hummed a little louder.
“Di-different ways?”
“Holly had… incredible marks. Top of the class in everything, wasn’t she? Smart and pretty and funny all around.”
“Y-yes, Miss Trixie! She… she is the smartest and very funny and… and all that you said.”
“And you. You know why I picked you, Russet?”
“Why, Miss?”
“Earnestness. Eagerness…” Trixie played with a few reasons. “I don’t know. I thought you had spark. You seemed to have promise. Sometimes you can’t really tell just by looking. You just have to take a chance. And you’ve done remarkably well so far, I dare say, even with your scores.”
“I… I’m sorry about the last test, Miss Trixie. I promise I’ll try harder. I just don’t come from a magical background, at all, Miss. It’s all very new to me. I’m the… I’m the only unicorn in my extended family, you see, and I was raised as an earth pony.”
“Yes.” Trixie smiled. “I’m looking forward to seeing your results for the mid-terms.”
“O-oh. Oh no.”
“What’s wrong, Russet?”
“The test…” Russet muttered, a degree of panic sneaking back. “I borrowed Holly’s pen for the last one. It’s her lucky pen. It’s here in my coat pocket, Miss Trixie.”
Trixie kept quiet.
“We have to… I have to get out, Miss Trixie!” Russet’s voice raised to a shout. “I have to give her back her pen! Miss Trixie!”
“Yes, Russet.”
“M-miss Trixie?” he asked, lowering his voice once again in an inconsistent wave. “They’ll get us out, won’t they? The princess is coming right now, right? She’ll find a way to stop this… right?”
Trixie breathed in slowly, the lights from the void raining over her face. The sphere was larger now. Slightly. A few more stars were born in the room, and it was growing unevenly. Like bulbous masses, large bubbles started to form out of its surface, reaching out into the ends of the room.
“She’s coming, yes. Surely. Definitely.”
“Why is it so quiet, Miss Trixie? Where is everypony else?” Russet whispered.
“I’m sure they’ve all gone to find Princess Twilight.” Trixie offered an explanation. “And besides, there’s no way to shout through the walls as they are right now. I’m sure once she arrives she’ll contact us on the emergency radio. I don’t think any of you students know the frequency, do you?”
“N-no, Miss.”
“There you have it, then. We wait. We wait, and then we return Holly her pen.”
Silence. Trixie knew Russet was thinking about it. Thinking about Holly. Thinking about the things he wanted to do.
“Do you think she made it out?” Russet asked.
“I am most certain she did. She was closest to the door when we triggered the test. It was only you and I who stood at the conduction station. In fact, I’m not sure how I ended up on this side of the room, but I was here when I woke.”
“That’s a relief.” Russet’s voice retreated into composure. “About Holly, that is. Not…”
“Yes. Of course.”
Without warning, the sounds of scrabbling came from the side. Trixie couldn’t see past the shadows and the dancing petals that kept bringing her view in and out of focus, but she could hear movement from one corner to the other.
“Russet,” Trixie called out. “What are you doing?”
“The radio, Miss Trixie. You reminded me. I ought to get it before it gets swallowed up by the Core. I need to get that and a few other things.”
“It’s dangerous, Russet. You should keep still!”
The sounds of debris being moved out of the way continued. Trixie shook her head.
“Almost to your desk, Miss Trixie!” The voice came from the opposite end of the room now, from behind the Core. “Here! I found it!”
“Okay. Now get back here as fast as you…”
“M-miss Trixie!” Russet yelled. “The whole end here… it’s gone! The Core’s been growing!”
“So get out of—”
“No, wait!” The sound of drawers banging started to pepper the humming. “G-got them!”
The scrabbling came back in the other direction, as Trixie heaved a sigh of relief. She looked through the gloom of the darkness, trying to find any sight of him. All of a sudden, his voice appeared in the corner next, back where it belonged.
“Here, Miss Trixie!”
From within the pockets of night a small device emerged. It slid across the floor, rasping its way toward Trixie, coming to rest a few steps away.
Trixie quickly ducked down, turning, grabbing it and retreating back to her side of the wall.
The device looked like nothing more than a small box with slats and various lights on the top to indicate many different things. It was the emergency communications device that was to be used to talk through the anti-magic wall.
“These too, Miss Trixie!”
A few wooden frames came along the floor in the same way, unshrouded by fog as they came tumbling in her direction. They were followed by a trophy. Two trophies. A plaque. More frames.
“Why did you… take out my awards, Russet?”
“B-because they’re important, Miss Trixie! You’ll need them, surely.”
Trixie left them right where they lay.
“There’s a reason why I keep them in the drawer, Ru—”
She cut herself off, raising her eyebrows and shutting her eyes.
“Russet.”
“Y-yes, Miss?”
“How did you know they were in my drawer?”
“Um…”
“Russet.”
“The… the lads and I, Miss. We sometimes take a look at them when you’re not around. I’m really sorry, Miss. We never look at anything else, I promise. But sometimes we like to see the things you’ve done and what you’ve accomplished. Even Carob thinks we should have polished them up and put them on the wall. We never know why you keep it hidden away. It’s… it’s inspirational, Miss.”
“The only one who should inspire you is yourself, Russet! If you only judge yourself as a comparison to others, you’ll find yourself losing sight of what’s important!”
“I… I’m sorry, Miss. I just thought…”
Trixie fell to silence, rubbing her forehead. She didn’t mean for it to come out so tersely. But this room… this place… who she was now, sitting here… it all made things a bit more on edge.
“I’m sorry, Miss Trixie. I… didn’t mean to pry.”
“No. No.” Trixie tapped at the floor. “I’m not angry. Just… surprised. I never gave these things much attention. I always felt that if I cared too much about the things I’d done, I’d never give that much attention to the things I could do in the future.”
“Very… very true, Miss Trixie! I’ll… I’ll certainly remember that. It’s something I’ll definitely keep to heart for the rest of my life!”
Trixie reached out, sliding a framed certificate of achievement toward herself, one that had managed to work its way a bit closer than the others.
She stared at it, barely able to make out the words. But she didn’t really need to read it. She knew what it said already. It was an award bestowed upon her by Princess Twilight a few years ago for her advancements in the theory of Gesture-based spellcasting. Her paper and presentation on the subject rocked the magical world with new ideas, thoughts, and possibilities, and today, all those years later, some headway was being made into proving the theory, as she heard.
But she herself had decided to move away from that to work on a project – this project – that the Princess had requested her help with.
Trixie was the most trusted professor in the school, after all.
Funny how everything turned out.
Trixie threw the certificate like a frisbee into the middle of the Void. It disappeared completely as folds of nothingness swallowed it up.
Trixie smiled. It felt good to not care. She should have done that years ago.
“Miss Trixie?” Russet asked.
“Yes?”
“I’m sorry.”
“I told you, Russet. I wasn’t angry. It’s fine.”
“No, Miss Trixie. I’m… I’m sorry you didn’t make it out, Miss Trixie,” Russet said, his voice a mere murmur, as if he were afraid to say it.
Trixie didn’t reply for a moment.
“And what of yourself?” she finally asked.
“I… I think I’m okay. T-two of us out of s-seven isn’t too bad… is it?” he rattled.
Trixie laughed. It was an ironic, sad laughter that echoed around the chamber.
“No, it isn’t,” she said. “Is that your earth pony mentality talking, there? The earth ponies were always rather practical in their thoughts.”
“Well… my… my pa always taught me to take things the brightest. Life wasn’t always easy for him and my family. He always told me… during a mixed harvest you always have to count the good apples in the barrel and not the bad ones.”
“I think that mentality applies gloriously here, Russet.”
“They… didn’t know what to do with me when I was born. They always joked. They told me that when I came out, my ma nearly decided to go enroll in magic school herself, just so that even though she couldn’t cast magic, she could teach me about it like a responsible mother.”
“Your parents sound like they treasured you a lot.” Trixie tilted her face downward.
“Well, my sister… my younger sister, she came out a regular Earth Pony, like everyone else on pa’s side of the family. Ma’s a pegasus, you see. Sis is still down there now. Little Ginger Gold. Learning the family business.”
“What does your father do, if you don’t mind me asking?” Trixie questioned, curious. It didn’t really matter, but all they were now were a collection of stories.
Stories ought to be told.
“They run an emporium, ma’am. The Big Barrel Emporium down at New Coltchester. Have you ever been to New Coltchester?”
“I am remarkably familiar with New Coltchester. In fact, I was there… as I recall… more than thirty-five years ago when it was still called Ponyville. It was such a small place back then. It’s incredible how far it’s come.”
Trixie let her wistfulness distract her for a while. There was a melancholia that bubbled from somewhere at the back of her mind, and staring up into the stars and the fireworks of the room, it almost brought her back to that night.
“I had no idea you were from New Coltchester, Russet.” Trixie played with her hooves absentmindedly. “How’d you end up here?”
Russet sighed. It was a different sort of sigh from the ones he made earlier. This one was full of lingering doubt. Regret. Was there still time to regret? Was there still need? But Russet had always been like this – more concerned with others than with himself. It was one of the unworded reasons that Trixie had picked him for the project.
“When I was born,” Russet said, “ma and pa owned a lot of land in Ponyville, as they told me. Pa owned a farm. Ma had a small house on the border of the city. Prime location, they said. I remember growing up on that farm. Pa taught me how to use my legs. Ma taught me how to use my brain.
“But they… they decided that when I turned seventeen, I ought to be enrolled in the Royal Canterlot Magic University. I was… I was sure they were joking. I mean… a regular magic school would have been fine, but Canterlot? I mean…”
“Well, they were successful, given the fact that you are in my class.”
“Yeah. But… the fees were pretty steep. They said they managed to get a subsidy… some… scholarship fees from a friend they knew or something, but even then, this is Canterlot we’re talking about.”
“Oh, yes. It’s not cheap.” Trixie nodded.
“And what’s worse was that because I didn’t have a magic background, nor did I ever go elementary magic school, they required me to take a one-year accelerated foundation course in addition to the first year of University. So we had to pay for two years down.”
Trixie nodded in response, her eyebrows falling back. She could hear his voice become more agitated as he continued to speak. There was a certain hint of something – anxiety, maybe – that echoed in his words.
“Pa dipped into the savings, and ma didn’t have any savings, so… they sold the house and the farm, and moved us all into a smaller place near the city center. It was comfortable, and had everything we needed just down the road. And then they shipped me off, and for the last few years I’ve been trying to just… catch up.”
Russet choked again, his voice warbling. “I don’t even know how they managed to arrange this! I mean… don’t get me wrong, I’m… I can’t believe how lucky I am… but…”
Lucky.
It was all relative, wasn’t it?
“... but I don’t even know how they pulled that off.”
“I wonder, indeed.” She didn’t have to think very hard to know the reason. “But in the end, you made it. And I don’t think you wasted your chance. That’s all they can ask for, right?”
“Yes… but pa had to change his entire business for it. He troubled my aunt, too. I know they weren’t happy about it, but… he argued his way in. Ma said it was the most she ever heard him talk. It was all for my benefit. And… he ended up doing something he wasn’t really excited about. He doesn’t like business.”
“But the emporium is bustling,” Trixie said. “Not that I know, but I’m sure it’s not been a bad experience for the family.”
“No. Money… money’s just one thing. I just… I mean… they went through all this for me and…”
“Russet.”
“... and this,” he forced air through gritted teeth, “this is how I repay them? This? Sitting here in this… in this room and… and…”
“Russet. Please.”
“I can’t… I can’t stay here… I’m wasting everything! My family! I have to speak to them, Miss Trixie! Please!” he begged, his tears audible behind his frantic calls. “Please let me out!”
“Russet. Calm down. Please. Everything that can be done is being done. We just have to be patient, and wait, and have a bit of faith.”
“But I can’t leave them, Miss Trixie!”
“You’re not, Russet!”
“I’m leaving them, Miss Trixie, and I’m wasting everything!”
“Russet! You’re not! This isn’t your fault, do you understand? This is just a bad thing that happened and you’re caught up in it. That’s all! You aren’t leaving anything behind and nothing’s been wasted!”
“But…”
“Russet. Listen. Shut up for a moment and calm down and listen. If they were here right now, what would you say? What would you possibly say to them?”
“I would…” Russet gasped. “I would tell them that…”
“Yeah? Go on.”
“I don’t know, Miss Trixie. I don’t know!”
“Yeah? That’s good. Alright? It means you know that there’s nothing that you have to say to them. There’s nothing to apologize for, and there’s nothing to feel sorry about. There are few things that they need to hear from you right now, and they already know them. Okay, Russet?”
“I don’t… know…”
“Russet. Do you love them?”
“Miss Trixie?”
“Do you love them? It’s not a difficult question. Do you love your family?”
“O-of course I do, Miss Trixie! I love them with everything! I love my pa and ma and my little sister! I love them, Miss Trixie!”
“Do they love you?”
“I…”
“Don’t think so much, Russet! Do they love you? Yes or no?”
“Y-yes!”
“Are they proud of you for getting this far? Again. Don’t overthink it. Just ‘yes’ or ‘no’.”
“Yes, Miss Trixie. Yes.”
“Do they know you know this?”
“Yes.”
“Then that’s all you need. Believe me. That’s all you need.”
Trixie let her head fall back, and allowed it to hit the wall roughly. It was funny – there she sat, in the middle of a storm of ribbons and stardust, unable to move, and all she felt was how cold the floors were.
She rubbed her eyes with a hoof, scrunching her face, grinding her teeth. She was glad that she was floating through space.
They were the same now. At the very end, everypony was the same. And yet, you still had to help. You still had minutes to learn, you still had minutes to teach. You still had the time to grow and love and laugh and give and take.
That was life.
And no matter if life was just beginning or reaching a conclusion, it couldn’t stop being life for the ones who knew how to live.
“Yes… yes, you’re right, Miss Trixie,” Russet said, finally, more for himself than for anyone else’s benefit. “O-of course you’re right. I… I was overreacting, wasn’t I? Just… just a simple overreaction…”
“Nothing wrong with it,” Trixie replied. “As long as you realise in the end.”
“You know… I still don’t know what to say.”
“What do you mean?”
“If I could say something to them – my family – right now. I don’t know what to say. What do I tell them? What do I want to say?”
“Whatever it takes, Russet, for them to be happy.”
“And… and how are they ever going to be happy with this?”
“By knowing you were.”
An array of shards of light showered down from above as a wisp crashed into the wall just above Trixie’s head. They danced upon Trixie’s skin, painlessly and wordlessly, coating her with an effervescent glow.
It lit her up for just that moment, as she sat there, leaning on the wall. She looked ever so peaceful for just that one short lapse of the dark, as if she were simply taking a break from the routine of busy life.
“Miss Trixie,” Russet asked. He had most certainly seen it. “How… how are you so calm?”
Trixie gave it some thought, stretching out, moving her legs around.
“I suppose it’s because this isn’t the hardest thing I’ve ever had to experience in life.”
“What could have been more difficult that this, Miss Trixie?”
“Mmph.” Trixie huffed, smiling, giving her head a small, amused jerk at the thought. “Well. That’s a question, isn’t it?”
“Pardon me, Miss. I didn’t mean to pry.”
“No. I… I think I’ll share. Might as well, right? You gave me your story, I give you mine.”
“If… if you wish to, Miss. I can’t say I’m not curious.”
“Well!” Trixie clapped, her energy building up. She placed her hooves behind her head, getting a bit more comfortable. “Let’s see. As I mentioned, I first went to Ponyville around thirty-five years ago. I don’t suppose you know much about the place as it was back then, do you?”
“Only from photographs and stories, Miss. My ma sure has a lot of stories. A lot of things going on back then, she says. But she said that she never got involved, and she spent the days in her cottage looking at wildlife and spending time with friends.”
“Curious.”
“What is?”
“Did your mother ever mention something called the Elements of Harmony?”
“Um… well. Once or twice, perhaps. I mean, I’ve heard about that old stuff, and I know Princess Twilight was involved, but history was never my best subject. What about it?”
“Oh, nothing. It was around that time, that’s all. It doesn’t have anything to do with my story,” Trixie said, shaking her head to herself with a grin.
“R-right,” stammered Russet.
“When I first showed up at Ponyville, I was… different. I mean, you’ve seen all my awards and things. I suppose… if anything, this is the reason why I don’t care for them much.”
“Why, Miss Trixie?”
“Because I used to care too much about those kinds of things. Being… the center of attention. That was my goal. One of many goals. Being the best. Being the greatest.
“Now, I know that isn’t a bad thing per se, but I wanted to be the best not because then I could put it to work, but I just wanted to know that I was better than everypony else.”
“Miss… Trixie?”
“Yes, I know! You look at me today, you’d never think. But… something happened. Before I get ahead of myself, however, let me tell you what I was back then. And this’ll shock you! Oh yes, it will. Go on. Ask me what I used to be in my youth. Ask me what I did when I was your age.”
“I… don’t know if I want to anymore, Miss Trixie.”
“I was a clown.”
“A what?”
“A clown. You heard me right!” Trixie laughed, her frivolity echoing throughout the chamber. “I travelled from town to town in this little… wagon thing. I’d set up shows and perform. Sometimes I’d get a little money for my troubles, but for the most part I just loved being in the spotlight. I loved setting the audience up, I loved the attention.”
“That… sure is different, Miss Trixie.”
“Yes. It was. Now, I don’t tell this to anyone, so it’s just between you and me, alright?”
“Of course, Miss Trixie.”
“And if anything… it’s proof that who you are might not be who you were supposed to be. Sometimes a chance is all that’s needed. That’s why I gave you a chance, Russet. Because… well. I keep jumping the gun, don’t I? Where was I?
“You see, my father was… a busy pony. My mother wasn’t around any longer. She left when I was young for the same reason that I left when I was old enough. There was just no reason to stay at home.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Miss Trixie. Pa says that family is the most important thing.” Russet muttered.
“It is. It really is. To not have one… well. It’s a shame for me, but I’m over it, so don’t worry. My father didn’t even really care for us much, and… I guess I might have overcompensated just a tiny bit. I suppose you could call it that. Putting on a cape and hat and going around to entertain small towns. Can you even imagine me in that getup? Oh, it’s so funny, looking back, even now.”
Trixie stared up into the starry sky above her.
“I can’t imagine you in anything other than your lab coat, Miss.”
“Well, I can surely tell you, I looked a right fool back then. So. I drove my little wagon into Ponyville one day. It was just one stop in a long line of stops. It was… a hole back then, or so I thought. Of course I don’t think that now, but my perception was pretty different in the day.
“I did my show as usual. And I wasn’t polite about it. It made me feel important, doing those shows. And that made me a little bit… brash about it all. But Princess Twilight lived in that town back then. Surely you know that much, at least.”
“Yes, Miss. I do,” Russet reaffirmed.
“And she called me out. She told me exactly how rude I was being, and what kind of fool I was. I didn’t take well to that. I took it as a challenge to my honour and my pride and my misplaced sense of glory. We had… a competition.”
“Competition?” Russet asked.
“Of magical ability. I lost. And I ran. I skipped to the next town to continue what I had always done, but… something about what happened kept eating away at me. Biting at the back of my head. So consumed was I at the thought of having lost face in front of that one pony that it was all I could think about for the next year and a half.
“So I made it my life. I made it my entire life to get revenge against her and all the ponies who had made fun of me. That’s right. That was me back then.” Trixie laughed again in derisive mockery of her own past. “And I came back a few years later to challenge Twilight Sparkle to a duel. A magnificent duel! One that would settle things once and for all and show the world who the most powerful wizard was.”
Trixie raised a hoof to rub her chin. She exhaled wistfully over her leg, pausing a while before continuing.
“Well, as you can expect, she tricked me. She got together with her friends and humiliated me once more. I’ll save you the trouble of the details but… that’s when she did the absolute unthinkable.
“She forgave me. For trying to… hurt everyone. For trying to destroy her. For all my jealousy and my blindness, she forgave me. Reluctantly, but she still did.
“As I ran that day…”
Trixie cusped her hooves together, tapping them against each other as she stared into the Core.
“As I ran, I thought. I was confused. I was… thinking a lot about how things went and how life was and… for the first time since I left home, I started to really pay attention to what I was doing. I began to question the point of it all.
“Maybe it was just something that Twilight showed me. Maybe she awakened a thought within me, or maybe she rustled my spirit. But a year after our second meeting, I returned once again, this time in humility. This was after she had ascended to Princesshood, of course.
“I told her that… I wanted to change. I told her that I had quit being who I used to be, and had thrown away that part of my life. I told her that I had nowhere else to go and no one else to see. That I had no prospects. No future. So she took me aside and sat me down, and told me what I needed to do.”
Trixie’s voice became softer now. Less steady. She delivered words not with the force of years of wisdom and learning, but with the frailty of a cracked plate.
“She told me that… I was just wrong about myself. I was talented. I was smart, she said. I had potential, but I was without conviction. She told me that I still had the chance to be who I wanted to be. All I’d have to do is know who that pony was first. Once I’d figured that out, I was free to come see her again.”
Trixie nodded, sighing. The hardest thing she had to do in her life took place during the days that followed – that time when things were just unknown. At least, sitting here, she knew. She was comfortable because she knew what was going on and what was about to happen. Not knowing yourself was the worst possible thing she experienced.
“Three months later, I met with Twilight for the fourth time. We talked. We spoke about life and goals and who we are as ponies. Princess Twilight shared a story with me about her own fears in becoming Princess. Over the years we became friends. Close friends. She’s gone out of her way for me so many times, I can’t count. She is…”
Trixie trailed off.
“But… well. That’s beside the point. The point is, she gave me that chance and now… here I am. I’ve never lost sight of that pony that I want to be. All the awards I’ve won… they are meaningless to me now, because the only thing that’s important is that I know who I am.”
Trixie nodded. It felt good to tell the tale. It felt good to get it out. Even though it was just here, and even though it would never again be told. It felt good.
“And that is my story, Russet. I hope this doesn’t change your impression of me.” Trixie smiled, looking to the side.
There, in the corner, was a swirling mass of darkness. A ball that grew out from the Core, engulfing the entire side of the room. All things were swallowed up. All things were gone save for the infinity of the galaxy found within the boundaries of the hole of space.
Trixie turned her head back.
She leaned back on the wall, tilting her head back so far as to almost be looking straight up into the ceiling.
Above her, the wisps swam in their river of glitter, lazily, casually, minding their business to themselves. They hadn’t the need to worry about anything else.
“Goodbye, Russet,” Trixie whispered. “It was nice getting to know you.”
She rolled herself up into a small ball. Clutching herself, huddling against her own legs she lay, floating in the endless world with her eyes closed. She felt light, drifty, an inexplicable calm washing over her as all feelings of sadness, happiness, hate and love all swirled away, leaving her a shell. A blissful shell that only needed to breathe.
She didn’t know how long she remained like this, but there came a sound that brought her back, and the moment she opened her eyes to look, she felt the weight of reality come down upon her shoulders once more.
The Core was much larger now. It encroached upon nearly every corner, save for small gaps that had miraculously escaped. All above her, a constant show of explosions occurred as countless wisps careened into every surface they could.
She scrabbled for the radio. It was buzzing with static. Pops and crackles escaped its speaker. Trixie turned up the volume and hit the buttons that would allow clear communication.
“Tr—i—! C— you —ar me?” The sounds came pouring through in fragments.
Trixie tapped the side of the box.
“Trixie? Are you there?” Princess Twilight asked, calling through, her voice distorted, as if she were talking into a tin can down a very long hallway, but it was unmistakably the Princess herself.
Finally here.
Trixie dropped the radio between her legs as she settled back onto the ground. Normal ponies would have breathed a sigh of relief. Trixie was merely happy for the company. There was no relief to be found.
“Twilight,” Trixie said. “You came.”
“Trixie! Are you alright?” The box asked.
“Yes. Yes I’m fine.”
“Hang on, Trixie. I’m so sorry I’m late. I was in Fillydelphia when I caught the news. I came back as fast as I could.”
“Don’t worry about it, Twilight!” Trixie said. “Everything’s been… just fine.”
“Is Russet in there with you? He’s not amongst the ones outside.”
“Not… not anymore, I’m afraid.”
There was a moment of silence passed in reflection.
“I… I’m sorry, Trixie,” the box continued.
“It’s fine.”
“Alright. Now, Let’s get you out and…”
“You aren’t doing any such thing, Twilight,” Trixie snapped.
Another moment of silence passed.
“Trixie, what are you saying?”
“I’m saying don’t be stupid, Twilight.”
“Now, Trixie! See here. What do you propose to do? Just stay in there until the end?”
“That is exactly what I intend to do, Twilight!”
“Why?” the box roared.
“Because it’s already reached critical concentration, Twilight! If you turn off the barrier now, it is going to explode and take out half your castle. And it will do it faster than you can teleport me – and yourself – away.”
Trixie could hear heavy breathing coming through the box, like a rasping wheeze thanks to the distortion.
“I was too… I was too late. If I had come earlier… then…” the box said. “No. We… we take down the wall for one second and I’ll—”
“Twilight! You set this field up yourself. You wrote the rules yourself. You know, so that hundreds of innocent ponies don’t have to die! Now you mean to break them?”
“You’re not supposed to be in there! You weren’t supposed to be caught!”
Trixie buried her face in her hooves.
“Don’t make this harder for me, Twilight. I’ve already come to terms with it. Don’t make me take it all back myself. I’m going to die here. That’s all there is to it.”
The box snapped as it turned off. The static stopped. The circuits cut.
Trixie let her hoof fall roughly against the floor. She stared stoically at the Core, wondering what it was thinking.
The radio popped back on.
“I’m sorry, Trixie. I had to go for a moment.” The voice returned, more stable now. In control. Back to normal.
“Where did you go?” Trixie asked.
“I had to…” Twilight cleared her throat. “I had to deal with some emotions.”
Trixie smiled a little. “Twilight?”
“Yes, Trixie?”
“Can you stay?”
“Trixie, I’m here. Always. For a friend. What do you need?”
“I just want to talk.”
“How long do you have?”
“I don’t know. Not long now. A few minutes at the most, maybe,” Trixie replied.
“A… a few minutes!”
“Yes. So I’d rather not waste it on arguing about the best use of the time.”
“Yes… yes. I’m here, Trixie.” Twilight said, resigned.
Trixie nodded, even though she knew Twilight wouldn’t be able to see.
“There’s two things I need you to do for me. Please.”
“Anything, Trixie.”
“I need you to contact Russet’s family. I want you to give them a message from him. Could you do this?”
“Tell me the message, Trixie. I’ll write it down.”
“Tell them he said not to worry. He was satisfied. He wants to thank them for all they’ve done for him, and he does not want them to think that any of it went to waste. He has enjoyed every day up here, and he has enjoyed every day of his life, and it was all because of their sacrifices and love. He wants his sister to keep strong, and he wants his mother to share more stories with her. Above all, he wants them to know that he left happy and that he loves them very much.”
“Yes, Trixie. Word for word, I have it here. I will pass it on.”
“Another message,” Trixie said, her anxiety rising. The clock ticked on.
“To whom, Trixie?”
“To a friend.”
The pause between responses was a little longer than normal.
“I’m listening, Trixie.”
“Twilight. I… I’ve lived a long life. Not as long as you will, definitely, but… a long life. I grew up dumb and scared and stupid. You showed me a lot of things. Taught me a lot of things. We’re pretty much the same age, but even back then you were a lot wiser and smarter and everything I was not.”
“Trixie. Listen. You were—”
“Shut up, Twilight! Let me say this! Please!”
The box crackled static. Trixie continued.
“I… never said this. In thirty years. I never once said this. I don’t know why, but it’s stupid, now that I think about it. So I want to say it now.”
It was hard to get out. Trixie hadn’t the faintest idea why. Through it all, even at the end, there was a barrier that stood in its way. It wasn’t pride. It wasn’t selfishness. It was just about the things that should have been said long ago but never were. It was about the feelings she could never express.
“Thank you, Twilight,” Trixie choked out. “Y-you’re my best friend. I love you. Thank you for giving me a chance, and thank you for taking me in, and thank you for everything, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry for what I did those years ago and I’m sorry for being stupid and...”
A tear rolled down Trixie’s cheek. Her eyes blurred with moisture, and her vision faded, mingling with the darkness.
“Don’t cry, you idiot,” Trixie said. “Okay? I just wanted to say that. Don’t cry.”
“I’m not crying,” Twilight sobbed through the box. “I love you too, Trixie.”
“I’m happy too,” Trixie said, wiping her face. “I’m happy, and it was because of you. Continue the research, Twilight. We’re not done yet. This was just an accident. But this is important to learn and study. Promise me. Promise me you won’t stop research just because of this incident.”
“I… I promise,” said the box.
“It’s beautiful. I wish you could see it.”
“W-what?”
“The Core, Twilight. A full one. It’s like… it’s like staring out into the vastness of the universe. There’s no depth. There’s no end. There’s just empty space and a million stars. They glow, Twilight, with this strange incandescent brilliance. I can’t describe it. But I know you’d love it if you could see it.”
“Trixie. My friend.”
“I’m going to miss you, Twilight.”
“I’m going to miss you too.”
“It’s got my leg, Twilight.”
“Trixie!”
“No, no. Don’t worry. It… it feels like nothing. There’s no pain. There’s no… sensation at all. It’s just like it’s been removed. Maybe it’s still there, somewhere. But we know so little about this. That’s why you have to keep going.”
“Trixie. I’m… I’m going to miss you so much, and…”
“Listen. No time. Twilight. After I’m gone, give it two hours. Three, if you want to be absolutely safe. By that time the Core will have taken everything it could and burned itself out. It will be safe to open the room then. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Trixie.”
“Well. This is it, then.”
“Trixie. Please. Don’t do this, Trixie.”
“Say goodbye, Twilight.”
“Please, Trixie!”
“Twilight! Goodbye, Twilight!”
“Goodbye, Trixie!”
“Goodbye! Twilight! Goodb—”
* * *
Four hours had passed before Princess Twilight finally touched her horn to the wall. With a shimmer, the barrier fell, and the plates blocking all entrances were taken down.
For all four hours, the princess had stood there, staring at the door, breathing heavily and doing nothing else. No one dared talk to her. No one dared try.
Finally, the door opened, and the princess swept in.
The room laid bare. Not a single item was left. The Core had taken it all with it.
But not a trace of void, nor darkness, nor swimming wisp of silk remained. The tragedy had been averted, and within it, a new tragedy was born.
And silently she stood in the middle of an empty room.
The stars would never look the same way again.
The End
Author's Note
The Incandescent Brilliance now has an amazing audiobook production by Illya Leonov. Please Click Here if you wish to listen along.
Super thanks to MalWinters for this amazing Gift Art!
Stories cannot be written without the help of editors.
Special thanks to HerpyDerpy who has been there since the very start and makes my life meaningful even though he has a terrible hat.
Additional thanks to Dinoguy1000 for the editing assistance and some very good feedback. (Also he's a Dinosaur but wants me to keep it secret)
Mention to Crack Javelin for early day bouncing, and also being a big supporter of the pålegg enthusiasts club.
