Beatrix batted her eyes at the mirror and smiled. Her reflection, that of a young mare and not a filly, smiled back. Just over her reflection’s shoulder, she spied the coat rack by her bedroom door and the blue, star-speckled cape and hat hanging on it. Just underneath the cape sat a cardboard box filled to the brim with supplies for her show: card decks, juggling balls, and whatever else she’d been able to scrounge, buy, or borrow. Tonight was the night. Tonight she’d finally get to show everypony what she could do.
A brush slid through her silvery-blue mane, and the tan form of her mother blocked her view of the coat rack. “Hold still now, Beatrix. You’re not going anywhere with a mane full of tangles.”
“Sorry, Mom. I’m just so excited—ow!”
The brush left her mane for a moment, carrying a few plucked hairs with it. Her mother frowned. “Told you to hold still. Can’t do this right if you don’t.”
“Sorry.”
Beatrix didn’t move a muscle. She just sat there, watching her own unblinking eyes and feeling the brush drag through her mane in search of its next victim. Instead, the brush ran right into her horn. The knock of brush on horn made both of them jump in surprise.
Her mother pulled the brush away and wiped a hoof across her own hornless forehead. “Curse Great Grandpa Loon, marrying a unicorn…”
Beatrix dropped her gaze to the tabletop, but quickly found a hoof propping up her chin. Her mother planted a kiss on her cheek and winked. “Now don’t let that get you down, Beatrix. You’re every bit as good as a regular earth pony. Tonight you’re going to show the whole town that, I just know it.”
Beatrix managed a small smile. “I hope so.”
Loud cries sounded from the next room over. Her mother set the brush on the dresser and walked towards the door. “Freshen up a bit while you have the chance, I need to feed your little brother and get dinner on.”
Beatrix watched her mother through the mirror, trying to avoid her own uncertain gaze. “Mom?”
Her mother was already at the door. “Yes?”
Beatrix took another look at the box on the floor. “Could I… Could I show you some of my magic act before we go?”
She couldn’t see her mother’s face, and yet she knew there wasn’t a smile on it.
“I don’t think I’ll be able to.”
Beatrix could’ve mouthed the words that followed, considering how many times she’d heard them.
“It’s just not a convenient time right now. You understand, don’t you?”
Beatrix nodded. “Yes… I guess I’ll just finish getting ready… maybe practice on my own for a bit.”
“Be quick about it, we’re leaving right after dinner.”
The whole town was ablaze with light. Every lantern on every house drove away the night’s darkness with a yellow glow that swayed and flickered in time with the breeze. Ponies laughed and sang their way down main street, following the music and decorations that beckoned them to the party in town square.
Even with all the merrymaking, the town’s familiar sounds refused to be overpowered. The rustle of the wheat in the fields to the East, and the gurgle of the river that separated farmland from city streets were unmistakable. The mill was even louder, of course. The low rumble of stone grinding wheels, the creak of wooden gears, the splash of the waterwheel, and the hiss of freshly milled grain reached every ear at all hours. Nopony tired of hearing the town’s heartbeat, the sound of their product being churned out, and the constant assurance that bits would follow.
There was never a question of if the wheat would sell, nor would there ever be. Nothing trumped grain. Fruits were simplistic, vegetables were old-fashioned, and rocks were downright unsophisticated. Everypony in town knew grain was the farm product of the modern age, and one night a year, in the height of the summer heat, they celebrated their success until the sun came up.
In the town square, just across the river from the mill, ponies danced the night away at the foot of a stage. While twin guitarists strummed out a tune, colorful firefly lanterns hanging from the mill’s waterwheel painted the crowd in alternating rainbow hues. Everypony had a smile on their face. Everypony except Beatrix.
She sat at the far side of the stage by the riverbank, looking over her supplies and adjusting her hat. “Let's see… Good evening everypony, have I got a show for you tonight. Prepare to be astounded with a display of magic beyond your—”
A flying clod of dirt knocked her hat down over her eyes. She sighed. “Yes, Flax? Or is it Harvest and Moonstone again?”
She pulled off her hat, brushed it off, and silently counted the approaching hoofsteps.
Flax spoke first. “Maybe it’s all three of us.”
Beatrix turned to face her least-favorite schoolmates, each one an earth pony, each one bigger than her, and each one sneering with supreme confidence.
Flax stepped in front of the others. “Nice hat, it almost hides that ugly horn.”
Harvest laughed. “Don’t forget her uglier face!”
Beatrix scooped up a dirt clod of her own. “Get lost. I’ve got a show to prepare for.”
Moonstone rolled her eyes. “Oh yeah? What’s a unicorn weakling like you doing in our talent show?”
“I was going to do some magic, but maybe I should just show everypony how much better you three look covered in mud.”
Flax grinned and held the other two back. “Magic, huh? I can’t wait to see that.”
Beatrix was speechless for a moment. “Really?”
“Yeah, it’ll show the whole town just how pathetic you are. It’ll be awesome.”
Beatrix gritted her teeth. “You just wait. Everypony’s going to see how amazing my magic is, how it’s something no earth pony could ever do in a million years.”
“So what? Unless you can make bits out of thin air, or make it so you can actually pull a plow half as far as we can, nopony’s gonna care. Magic’s just as worthless as you are.”
Beatrix heaved the dirt clod, which came closer to hitting Harvest than Flax. “Get the hay out of here and leave me alone!”
Moonstone broke down laughing. “Told you she was weak. Everypony knows unicorns are way weaker than earth—”
The mayor’s voice, amplified by a megaphone, replaced the music. “Ladies and gentlecolts, who’s ready for the talent show? We’ve got an impressive lineup of colts and fillies ready to wow you with juggling, singing—”
Flax pushed her companions back the way they came. “Come on girls, we’d better get us some front row seats for ’Trix’s big show.”
Beatrix nodded. “You’d… You’d better! It’ll be like nothing you’ve ever seen!”
The mayor’s voice drew her attention. “Let’s give a warm round of applause to our first act: Beatrix Lulamoon and her Mystifying Magic Show!”
Beatrix took a final look at her box of supplies. The sound of the cheering crowd swept her fears and anger away. She adjusted her hat and grinned. “Showtime!”
She trotted onto the stage, and into full view of every pony in town. Flax and her cronies were in the front row, as promised. Mom was pacing at the back with a wailing baby on her shoulder, as expected. She directed her attention, and her smile, to the other hundred earth ponies in the audience, the ones that showed her kindness, didn’t care that she had a horn, and were currently following her every move.
“Good evening everypony! Prepare to be astounded!”
She lifted her front hooves into the air and set her horn aglow. Right on queue, streamers shot out from their hiding places and arched high over the stage, earning her a round of applause. Many more soon followed.
Beatrix couldn’t stop smiling, and neither could her audience. She swept off her hat, reached inside, and pulled out a bundle of carrots. “Why, it seems the missing carrots were right here the whole time!”
The crowd cheered, and she took a bow. Every shout, every smile, and every hoof stomp injected pure delight into her heart. They loved her show, even if all her tricks thus far were simple sleight of hoof as opposed to genuine unicorn magic. Someday she’d get there, just as soon as she could find a better guide than the tattered Beginning Magic book in the library. Half of its pages were missing, and the other half were nearly incomprehensible on account of faded text or unfamiliar terminology. Still, even if most basic unicorn skills remained a mystery, she did have one genuine magic trick up her sleeve: the spell on the last page, the spell labeled ‘advanced students only.’ That spell once earned her a cutie mark, and now it was going close out her first magic show with a literal bang.
She raised a hoof to the side of her mouth, as if to whisper a secret. That alone was enough to silence the crowd. Mom was still out there somewhere, as were the bullies. Beatrix didn’t care. In this perfect moment she had no troubles, and knew no limits.
“Since you’ve been such a wonderful audience, I’d like to share a one final trick with you, one that’s taken years of practice.”
She reared up on her hind legs and poured concentration into her horn. The stage lanterns dimmed, and bright spots of light shot into the sky. “I give you, the Mystifying Magic of Beatrix Lulamoon!”
The audience cheered right as the first firework exploded in the sky, raining down sparks of every color. For a moment there was no wheat, no river, and no mill. The only sound was that of resounding approval, the sound Beatrix had been hoping for. The display continued for nearly a minute, and each firework brought more applause than the last.
As the last of the sparks faded, she returned her hat to her head and struck a pose. “ ’Hat’s all, folks!”
The applause redoubled, and a single word swept through the audience until it became a chant. From filly to wizened stallion, every pony in her view started shouting the same thing: more.
Beatrix smiled so broadly that her face began to hurt. Smiles aside, her horn burned and her legs felt wobbly. Never before had she performed the fireworks spell on such a grand scale, and her own dizziness made it clear that she needed to build up stamina before she did so again. Still, the crowd’s chant couldn’t be ignored, not if she wanted that sweet feeling of acceptance to last beyond her time onstage.
She threw her hat aside and nodded. “Your wish is my command!”
Her horn glowed, and the cheering continued. She shut her eyes as the explosions recommenced overhead. The sounds of delight did nothing to help the sweat forming on her brow, but a sudden breeze certainly did. Cool relief washed over her, but something else entirely seemed to be happening to the crowd. Their cheering gave way to gasps, and not of amazement.
Beatrix’s eyes opened just in time to see a firework sail over the river and explode directly over the mill. Multicolored sparks touched down on the rooftop and immediately adopted the same shade of bright orange. Decades of accumulated wheat dust ignited, and within seconds the entire building lit up like a torch.
In the back of her mind, she heard the crowd’s panic dissolving into calls to form a fire brigade and rescue anypony near the mill. Despite that, all she could do was stand there and watch the flames work their way to the grain silos at the base of the building.
Beatrix felt the explosion before she heard it. The mill, a stone building filled with combustible dust, disintegrated before her eyes. Huge chunks of rock-turned-brimstone crashed through nearby rooftops amidst screams of terror. The water wheel, still decorated with colorful lanterns, rolled through the shallows and demolished a small homestead downstream. Some poor filly’s unmade bed, bright pink dresser, and stuffed animal collection spilled out of the wrecked house and joined the wheel in the watery depths.
Run. That was her next thought. Run for cover. Try to help. Do something. Anything.
She ran, right off the edge of the stage. The grass by the riverbank made for a soft landing, albeit a wet one. With shaking legs, she pushed herself up, only to have something knock her back down again.
“W-what did you do?” Flax mumbled.
“I… I…”
A hoof crashed against her cheek. “What did you do!”
Beatrix saw Flax looking down at her with an expression even worse than her usual malice. Flax looked scared out of her mind, as if her own tail was on fire.
Beatrix blinked away tears, as well as mud. “I’m… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean t—”
Flax pushed her face into the mud. “You ruined everything! I-I told you that you’re worthless… that you’re weak!”
Beatrix could only flail her legs in response, at least until Flax finally let her take a breath. “Stop it!”
“Not until you say it!”
“Say w—” Beatrix tasted mud again.
Flax shouted in her ear as she choked back a sob. “Say ‘I’m worthless,’ say ‘I’m weak!’ This is all your fault!”
“N-no! I’m not! I’m n—”
Flax put her whole weight on the back of her head. “Say it!”
Beatrix wasn’t allowed a breath for tens of seconds. “I… I… W—”
Flax pulled back on her mane until they were nose to nose. “Say it!”
The crazed look in Flax’s eyes was more terrifying than not being able to breath. Beatrix held back tears, her most practiced magic trick of all, and nodded. “I’m… I’m worthless… I’m weak.”
Flax shook her. “Again! Louder!”
“I’m worthless! I’m weak!”
A bright light and a fresh round of screaming cut off Flax’s next demand. They both looked across the river and saw the wheat fields burning as bright as the noonday sun. No amount of hard work or magic could undo this catastrophe, let alone stop it.
Beatrix reacted seconds before Flax could. She wrenched a foreleg out of the mud and struck her attacker in the jaw. Flax yelped in pain and, just for a moment, leaned back enough for Beatrix wriggle herself free.
Even as she ran, she heard the Flax’s voice carrying on the wind. “Don’t you ever come back, Beatrix! Don’t you ever!”
She didn’t intend to.
A week later, Beatrix still found herself glancing over her shoulder. She’d long since abandoned the idea that her Mom, Flax, or anypony else was looking for her. On the off chance that they were, they certainly hadn’t done a very good job. She was walking alongside the public road, unmistakable in the afternoon sunlight. By now, the world behind her didn’t even include a trail of smoke.
The road cut a winding path through tall grass, interrupted only by the occasional bridge over the river that it followed. She had no idea where she was going, save for whatever in Equestria lay upstream.
Her mouth felt dry. She slowly approached the river bank, shivering at the sound of wet grass squishing under her hooves. Finally she reached the water’s edge and, after shutting her eyes tight, leaned down to drink. She didn’t want to see herself, not anymore.
“Well howdy, little lady,” a voice said.
She staggered backward and ended up on her haunches. She’d found her first fork in the road, one rendered almost invisible by the tall grass. Yet another bridge lay in one direction, and in the other stood an old brown stallion pulling a covered cart that looked more like a miniature house on wheels.
He shifted the wheat stalk protruding from his lips, and smiled. “I said howdy.”
Her mouth opened and closed a few times. She hadn’t said much since the fire, and every time she tried Flax’s imposed mantra came to her lips: I’m worthless; I’m weak.
“H-Hi.”
He smiled. “Where’re you headed all on your own?”
“I… uh… t-that way.” She pointed a hoof at the road ahead.
A grandmotherly-looking mare stuck her head out the cart’s window. “Who’re you bothering now, Seed, we’re never gonna get—oh my! Dearie, are you all right?”
Beatrix pulled her hat low on her forehead. “I-I’m fine. Just… Just passing through.”
“Do you need anything? Looks like you’ve had a rough time out here.”
Beatrix shook her head and felt the caked mud on her coat crack and crumble as she did so. “I’m okay. I… I really need to keep walking.”
The stallion stuck out a friendly hoof. “Name’s Hayseed. Hayseed Greenhooves. Me an‘ the missus are heading to Canterlot. Got me a job lined up at the palace, if you’ll believe it! How about yourself?”
Beatrix looked away. “I don’t know. I’m just walking somewhere.”
He chuckled. “Lots of somewheres out there, that’s for sure.”
The mare in the wagon knocked a hoof on the window sill. “Quit your gum-flapping, Seed, and offer the little lady a nice home-cooked meal. It’ll be dark soon.”
Beatrix didn’t want to think about the alternative. The roadside tall grass tasted just as awful as it looked. “That’s awfully nice of you…”
The mare waved her hoof dismissively. “Just common courtesy is all. What’s a unicorn like you doing way out in farm country?”
Beatrix flushed red and pulled her hat down until it almost covered her eyes. “I… I do magic. Magic shows.”
“Do tell! Can’t say that I’ve seen much of that in these parts. You heading to Canterlot too? Princess Celestia’s got a whole school set up for teaching fancy magic. Bet you’d be perfect for it.”
“R-really?”
“Well sure! Say, you want to tag along with us? If you’d give ol’ Seed a break pulling the wagon once a day, we’ll do home-cooked meals every morning and night.”
Beatrix gaped. “Wow… I-I don’t know how I can say no… I-I wouldn’t be a bother, would I? I can do more than just pull the cart to earn my keep.”
Hayseed smiled. “Don’t suppose you’d give us a share of all the bits your magic show pulls in?”
The mare rapped on the wagon again. “Seed! That’s crazy talk. Pulling the cart for meals is more than enough already. If she doesn’t give you a hoof on this trip, I’m worried you’ll be stuck tending the royal gardens with two working legs instead of four.”
Beatrix looked at her mud-stained cape. “M-my magic show?”
“Don’t give it another thought, dearie. Seed’s got a talking-to coming his way.”
Beatrix did give it another thought. She closed her eyes and mentally replayed her first and, she once presumed, final magic show from beginning to end. Everything from bullying, to magic, to fire, to flight flashed by in an instant. Two memories in particular were at odds with each other: the euphoria of being onstage, and the ignominy that followed. She couldn’t keep both those memories; she couldn’t be Beatrix the Worthless and Weak and still put on Beatrix Lulamoon’s Mystifying Magic Show. One of those titles summed up her childhood, a time period forever erased by fire. The other held some promise, but lacked a certain amount of pizzazz.
Her eyes flew open. “I’ll do it!”
Hayseed’s mouth dropped open, and the wheat stalk fell to the earth. “I was only fooling, Miss. It’s downright uncivil for me to impose—”
“I insist! The next town we come to, I’ll put on a magic show the likes of which earth ponies have never seen, and I’ll split the profits fifty-fifty.”
Hayseed pulled off his hat. “That’s more than generous, Miss.”
Beatrix could almost hear the crowd cheering, a sound she’d never tire of. “The name is Trixie. The Great and Powerful Trixie.”
Now that was a good name. In time, maybe she’d even believe it herself.
