The Coming Swarmby lola2901ChaptersThings to ComeMagician's EyeChanging Hands, Changing FacesThe First Steps of a Long JourneyThings to ComeAt first she thought they were storm clouds-that is, until she heard the buzzing. And then the screams. Nobody seemed sure what was going on, but it was getting attention. A crowd was slowly gathering throughout the town, standing in the streets. It was so silent all you could hear was the distant blasts, and the breathing of the townsfolk. Everyone’s eyes were turned to Canterlot Mountain. The dark swarms slammed against the magic shield protecting the distant castle, pulsing and quivering as they fought against the magic, fighting for a way in. She tried to find her voice, demand someone tell her what was going on-but it seemed no one knew any better that she, and even so, her voice had died some short way up her throat. And then they pierced the shield, the pink light shattering with a blast that shook the earth. It was a heartbeat before ponies started screaming, panicking. Doors slammed and locked, others fell to the ground, cowering. She tried to run, but the crowd jolted her, even as she fought to keep her feet. “Stop!” she cried, staggering. Her voice was lost among the others. Finally, managing to get some ground, she ran. Someone knocked her hat free, but she kept running. She could get it later, she just needed to get out of here, find out what was going on. Stumbling, she pulled a sharp turn and-there. Letting out a noise of relief, Trixie plowed through the crowd. She magically flung open the door of her cart, leaping inside. She hesitated, watching as the street began to clear, then slammed it shut, casting a lock spell. It was dark and cold inside. Taking deep shuddering breaths as she tried to slow her heart, she yanked open a drawer, digging around inside. She tossed aside tarot cards, pencil stubs and other odds and ends, letting out a noise of relief as her hoof brushed the match box. Pulling it out, she struck it, lighting the match with a tiny flame. Her heart was finally beginning to calm down. Lifting it magically, she lit the candles up on the shelf, casting crooked light across the small space. Breathing hard to catch her breath, the pale blue unicorn slumped against the wall, sinking into her cot. She let her eyes fall closed as she focused on her heartbeat, trying to steady it-but her mind kept racing, trying to make sense of what she had seen. She could feel the chill of the late day in her bones, floating through the thin wooden walls, as insubstantial as the distant blasts. Canterlot was under attack-but by what, she wasn’t really sure, or why or how-everything would be fine. The Princesses-they would handle it. By the time the moon was in the sky, all would be well. But as the minutes dragged by, the muffled explosions didn’t cease-if anything, they were fiercer than ever. She tried to keep her mind busy, far from imagining the trouble up in Canterlot. She recited her times tables up to thirteen, thought of what trick to add to her show next, figured how to stretch her bits to cover dinner. It was still there however, the constant fear, hanging heavy on her, like a noose around her shoulders, waiting to snap tight. It felt like hours had passed, but it was hard to say. Eventually, the blasts became few and far between. And then, silence. Trixie stay curled up in her cot, eyes closed, listening. She strained her ears to try and pick up voices, or the sound of hoofbeats. For some time, all she heard was the high pitched tone of quiet. Doors began to open, voices murmuring hesitantly to one another. She lay there a heart beat longer, then dragged herself to her hooves. Three of the eight candles had gone out, too undernourished to go on. Pausing by the door, she hesitated. Opening it, she turned, blowing out the other five before jumping down to the cold stone path. She had hardly taken seven steps away from her cart when a hooded figure galloped into the square, a spray of pebbles and grit flying behind her. The figure skidded to a stop, tossing the hood back. The pony beneath the hood was strange, her skin striped, her mane, spiked. Her eyes were two dark splotches of blue, near gray with fear. “Do not stand around and gawk! We must hurry to escape the flock!” she yelled, moving back slowly, turning to glance back towards the Everfree. “The invasion will destroy us all, please ponies, heed my call! I have a sanctuary for any who need, but we must go before they come to feed!” There was some hesitant murmuring, but a tall pink pony stomped her hoof, racing towards the hooded pony. “You guys heard Zecora, come on!” “The Princesses can handle it,” protested one of the ponies hesitantly, backing away. “They’ve saved us before.” There were murmurs of general agreement. Slowly, cautiously, a small smattering of ponies joined the one called Zecora. “We cannot wait for a change of mind, we must leave while there is time,” she said solemnly, flipping her hood up. Trixie watched for a long while, trying to think straight. Finally, as the smaller group turned to head for the forest, she cut in. “Wait-what are you running from anyway? If you know, then tell Trixie!” she demanded, trying to hide the quaver in her voice. Zecora glanced back eyes almost glowing beneath her hood. “A creature in which few believe, the Changelings are those who lay this siege,” she said darkly. “Changeling? What the hay is a changeling! Somebody tell us what’s going on!” protested a cyan pegasus, glaring. The hooded pony shook her head in frustration. “Time mustn't be at waste! We are leaving with all do haste!” Turning, she galloped for the forest, and after a moment’s pause, the smaller group hesitantly followed. Trixie glanced to Canterlot, a chill gnawing her to nothing but veins. Everything was going to be fine; come tomorrow she’d have one more show, then pack up the cart and head to the next town. The princesses would handle the invasion, and by morning life would be back to normal. Perhaps, in another life, she would have been right. Magician's EyeThe attack on the town began within the hour. There were no announcements, no proclamations of a successful conquest. No one gave word that the princesses had fallen, but they all knew. Ponies locked their doors a boarded their windows as a black storm of insect-like creatures spread from Canterlot, like an ever growing thunder cloud, swallowing out the sky. From outside her cart, Trixie could hear the crashes of wood and stone being smashed, even catching the faint hiss of the invading creatures, the changelings. She swallowed hard as she fasted her cloak tight around her neck, pretending the screams were of an excited audience, rather than a fearful crowd of victims. Taking a deep breath, she flattened her hat, tucking it away. She was sure they could here her heart pounding in her skull, smashing and pounding like a runaway train. But as she peered out the cracks of her door, she saw nothing. Turning, she took one last look around the small wheeled room that had been her home for the past year. Her cot lay askew, each of the stumps of all eight candles lay out where she left them, crooked and unlit. The drawers upon drawers lay open, as chaotic and disorganized as ever, half empty. She’d taken as much as she could, but the hidden pockets of her star-spangled cloak could only hide so much. She’d be back. The safety of Equestria was threatened almost weekly, and things always got better. They had to get better. Cold and dark thought it was, this was home. She’d be back. Soon. Taking one last firm deep breath in, Trixie unlocked the door, leaping out quickly. She didn’t bother to try and be stealthy, only ran, galloping as fast as her hooves would take her. There was no sight of the changeling creatures on the street she ran on, or even other ponies. But she could hear their voices echoing, seeing the distant flashes of green light coming from behind each building. She didn’t know where she was going, not really. But wherever it was had to be far from here, somewhere safe, untraceable, a place she could hide until it was all over. Even without a destination in mind, she moved with a determined urgency. She leapt over a fallen fruit stall, smashed apples spilt across the pavement. She paid no mind to the screaming, the screaming, oh Celestia there was so much screaming. She couldn’t afford to care. They were strangers, and they wouldn’t have stopped for her either. And if she did, she’d only go down with them. Just down the street, a small filly raced out of one of the buildings. Her pale violet and pink mane was muddied, and there were faint streaks of blood on her white coat. The young unicorn stumbled slightly, falling. The girl was in her path. It wouldn’t take too long to help her stand and start running again. Biting her lip, Trixie swore at herself silently as she approached the young filly, helping the small one to her feet. “Trixie thinks you should keep running,” she told the filly, moving to start off on her own again. “Please!” the filly interrupted. Her voice squeaked slightly, breaking with fear. When Trixie turned, she saw the girl’s soft green eyes were wide with fear. “I-I-I can’t find my sister or my parents and there are so many changelings, p-please, don’t leave me!” She was too small. Trixie knew the filly would slow her down, and then neither of them would escape. It wasn’t even a question. The filly couldn’t come. It wasn’t even an option. The filly couldn’t come. “Fine,” snapped Trixie angrily, glaring at the small pony. “But keep up. If you fall behind, Trixie won’t help you again. Got it?” The filly’s eyes watered, but she sniffed hard, clearly trying her best to look brave. She did her best to keep pace as Trixie started running again, although she clearly wasn’t the lightest on her hooves. “Y-you’re name’s Trixie?” She rolled her eyes in frustration, focusing on the street as they ran. “Yes, Trixie already said her name. Now keep your voice down.” There was a pause before she spoke again. “My name’s Sweetie Belle. I’m looking for my b-big sister. She’s a unicorn, she looks like me but with purpler hair, and blue eyes, and bigger,” she said, tripping slightly. “Trixie doesn’t care about your life story, now will you please keep it down!” she snapped. Her ears pricked. Her eyes went wide as she stopped, skidding to a halt. Now that her hooves were still, she could hear the buzzing clearly. Slowly, so very slowly, she turned around. When she first met her first changeling, she thought they were a black pegasus, just another pony fleeing from danger. But their eyes were too blue, too blank. Their wings shone in the sun, reflective and thin like a dragonfly’s. Dark spines cut a jagged outline across it’s body, and it’s expression was predatory. This was what a changeling was. “Kid,” Trixie said slowly, swallowing hard. She didn’t speak to Sweetie Belle as she spoke. The changeling was the only thing she could see, the only being she would look at. “Listen to me. You’re going to start running. And you’re not gonna stop.” Before Sweetie could protest, Trixie reached inside her cloak. She flung the small clod of black powder hard at the ground, summoning a small spark with her horn. The powder caught fire, swirls of gold and blue smoke bursting into the air. She could still hear the buzzing wings of the confused creature, even hear it coughing. Gritting her teeth, she dove through the smoke. Her mark was perfect, and she tackled the changeling to the ground. She smashed her hooves into it’s face, hitting it as hard as she could. It hissed fiercely, rearing back before it bit her. Trixie swore as she fell off, nursing the bite. The blood had a faint green tinged glow, as if some sort of magical poison. It leapt at her. She twisted, kicking her back hoof out, smashing hard against it’s jaw. Reaching deep in her cloak, she used her magic to pull out a long knotted rope of magic silks, quickly tying the creature to a lamp pole before it could strike again. Turning, she ran. It wouldn’t take long before the changeling tore itself free. She had to get Sweetie Belle and herself to safety. But apparently the kid had taken her advice after all. And yet, Trixie had a strange uneasy feeling. The foal was no where to be seen. Changing Hands, Changing FacesThe forest. The strange hooded pony had lead the others to the forest, so maybe it was safest to hide there. She did her best not to think too much about it, and decided simply the best she could do was hope the young filly had gotten somewhere safe. It wouldn’t help anyone if she died. Telling herself that didn’t make Trixie feel any less guilty. She slumped to the ground behind a tree, peering back out at the town behind her. This couldn’t be happening. Monsters ravaged Equestria weekly. The princesses would break free soon, or some ragtag group of heroes would blast them with friendship rainbows or something stupid like that. Then Trixie could go back to her mess of a wagon, buy a gallon of butterscotch soda, and curl up in the candlelight with her old copy of Hoofdini’s Paper Magic. She’d be home again, exploring Equestria and amazing the simple pony folk. In fact, it wouldn’t be long at all, right? This was probably going to go something like the time Nightmare Moon had returned. It had stayed night for a day or so long than usual, then everything was fixed. It couldn’t be long until these insects were chased out for good, surely. Letting out a shaky sigh, Trixie forced a slight chuckle, shaking her head. Of course everything was going to be fine, of course. Anyhow, she was the Great and Powerful Trixie, wasn’t she? She’d be fine. She’d always been fine. Although she knew it wouldn’t mattered, and it would all be fixed in a few days, she decided to start trotting deeper into the thick treeline of the Everfree. It would probably be best to lie low until it all blew over, of course. She stumbled slightly as she walked, struggling to keep her footing on the rocky ground. She swore under her breath when she slipped on some tiny animal’s burrow, twisting one of her ankles. In spite of the sting, she limped through the mud, teeth grit. Night was slowly starting to fall, casting long shadows through the already eerie forest, bathing it in the evening’s faint golden-red light. After a time of walking she realized her footprints might be followed by those creatures, those things, but she’d walked so far, she figured it didn’t matter so much at this point. And she was too scared and too tired to care. At least, she didn’t care until she heard something running through the undergrowth. Trixie froze, taking a shaky breath in, her ears flattened back across her skull. Maybe it had been just a jackalope. That was probably it, yes. But then she heard the creature move again. It was far too big to be a jackalope. Was that the buzz of insect wings she heard? She turned her head quickly, certain she’d seen a flash of black out the corner of her eye. “H-hello?” she called into the darkness. She was still moving. Now, her gait was slow, hesitant. “W-who’s there? The Great and P-P-Powerful Trixie demands you reveal yourself!” There was silence. Then, footsteps. Slow, steady. They started somewhere out in the foliage. They were too cloaked in shadow and leaves to see. Step. She could hear dead leaves crunching. Twigs snapping. It did not slow. Step. The chill bit like the air had teeth. The creature was undeterred. Step. It was closer now. The crunching of feet was growing louder. Step. She could hear it breathing now. Step. The breathing was deep, like a wounded creature. Step. Did something touch her leg? Step. Her heart was racing. She should blast it, or run, or something. She couldn’t just stand there. But she couldn’t. She could hardly even breathe. The footsteps stopped. It moved slowly, clunkily. It lurched from the leaves like a half-living corpse. It was small, and dark, a sharp horn curving up from it’s head. It approached slowly. “T-Trixie?” said a soft voice weakly. The dark creature lifted it’s head, wiping some of the near-black mud and ichor from their face. It felt like the whole of the forest let out a breath of relief at the little stained white face. “Celestia ‘bove, I thought you were a goner, kid,” Trixie said, letting out a breath of relief. She paused a moment, wincing at her own accent. Focusing on her stage voice, she offered the filly a shaky smile. “The Great and Compassionate Trixie is... very relieved you survived. She mistook you for one of the... creatures. She wasn’t afraid, of course, naturally Trixie can handle herself!” “Of course,” Sweetie Belle said tiredly, offering an exhausted smile. She paused, biting her lip. “Y-you’re hoof! Is it okay?” Blinking, Trixie lifted her hoof to look at it. The already faint green glow had faded to nearly nothing, but the torn skin and blood looked even worse than it felt. She winced, tossing her head slightly. “Tis... only a scratch. Trixie will be fine. What about you? You look like you’ve been bleeding,” she said, gently wiping some mud from Sweetie’s left eye, moving gently as not to hurt the small filly. “Huh? O-oh, that! I’m fine, but while I was running, I bumped into a tree,” the small unicorn confessed, gingerly lifting a hoof to her head. “One of the ch-changeling things chased me into the woods.” Trixie paused, pulling out a long string of colorful knotted scarves. They were her nicer set-she’d used the other one to tie that changeling thing up so it wouldn’t chase her. She’d gotten them for her birthday, three years ago, and had kept them in top notch-condition since. Sighing, she began untying the yellow one on the end, then magically hoisted it to wrap it around Sweetie Belle’s head. “There. Why did it stop chasing you? The one that saw us back in town didn’t leave me alone until I tied it up.” Sweetie looked up at her with wide green eyes. “You didn’t kill him?” She blinked, hesitating. “I don’t know. Maybe it saw s-someone easier to chase or, um, something.” “Glad you got lucky, kid,” Trixie sighed, tucking the rest of the magician silks back into one of the hidden pockets of her cloak. “The Great and Powerful Trixie is looking for somewhere to retreat to until this all blows over. Would you like to come with?” The small filly hesitated. “But my sister... Rarity...” Trixie paused, hesitating before setting her hoof on Sweetie Belle’s shoulder. “You and Trixie can look for her together on the way,” she offered, managing an awkward smile. There was a pause of silence, and at first she thought she’d offended the filly. But then, Sweetie Belle looked up. She was smiling, her emerald eyes wet. “Th-thank you, Trixie.” The First Steps of a Long JourneyTrixie paced impatiently around the fire, lifting dry wood onto the flames as she stepped. The crackling and smoke set her on edge, worried it might call the changelings to the small dip in the forest they’d settled in. There was no going back to her cart for supplies. She’d left it in the middle of town, and there was no chance she could get that far. Candles, pocket knives, smoke bombs, all as good as lost. She tried to scoff in annoyance, but instead there was only a pang in her heart. She’d lived there for so long. Taking a shaky deep breath, she sat, picking twigs and leaves from her mane. She was glad to not have a mirror on hand. She probably looked like some silly foal who’d been playing in the mud. Hah! As if the Great and Powerful Trixie weren’t good enough. As if she weren’t enough. She decided to think of other things. “P–please... d–don’t... I don’t want to, I don’t…” Trixie lifted her head, glancing down at Sweetie Belle. The filly slept close to the fire, curled in on herself. She muttered in her sleep, sometime mumbles of terror, sometimes unintelligible moans and hissing, as if she were in pain. Sighing, Trixie undid the clasp of her cape, tucking Sweetie in carefully to keep her from the cold. Sniveling kid. She’d probably just hold Trixie back. Taking a deep breath, she took to pacing around the edges of the camp again, worry setting back in. They’d need food, wouldn’t they? Maybe if some of the changelings left for a while, they could sneak into town, raid some houses. She glanced at Sweetie again. Too dangerous. But it wasn’t like she knew how to find edible berries in the forest. She wasn’t some crazy woodspony, she was a street magician, for Celestia’s sake! She paused, nodding to herself absently. She was a magician all right, and so she’d make good with what she had, just like always. She trotted over to the base of one of the tall Everfree trees, brushing her hoof across the ground. Finding a spot of wet mud, she started digging, upending as much as she could. She must have been louder than she thought, for not long after, Sweetie Belle came over, yawning. “Miss Trixie? It’s the middle of the night. Um, what are you... what are you doing?” the small pony asked, rubbing at the circles under her eyes. Well, at least she wasn’t having nightmares anymore. “You and Trixie are going to try and find someplace safe, maybe with those ponies who evacuated the village before with that ‘Zecora.’ You’ll travel at night, for safety,” she explained. Grimacing, she began kneading the wet mud into her fur. “And, of course, camouflage won’t hurt.” Sweetie Belle shuffled back, looking worried. “I don’t know about that Trixie. Th–those change—those things, they, they’re shapeshifters. They’re illusionists, h–how will we know if we’re safe?” Trixie ignored the chill that came with her own fears being voiced aloud, setting her jaw. “Trixie is... I am an illusionist too,” she said, offering a cocky grin she only half felt. “So I guess that means they’ve met their match. Come on kid, start muddying up,” she added, forcing twigs and leaves into her already messy coat. “That white fur stands out so much they’ll see you from next week.” “Is it the leaves?” “Nope!” chirped Sweetie Belle, picking her way carefully across the roots of the uneven forest floor. “Guess again!” “Is it your eyes?” “My eyes are green!? Oh, wait, um, yeah they are, haha. That wasn’t what I meant, though. Next guess?” she asked, laughing awkwardly, cheeks flushed pink. Trixie stepped up onto a fallen log, walking across a small ravine. As she did, she lifted Sweetie with her magic, floating her to the other side. “Trixie gives up. What is it?” “You can’t give up!” Sweetie protested, wilting slightly. “That makes the game no fun! Come on, guess again!” Fun? Wandering through a forest full of monsters in search for what very well could be the last remnants of civilization had never really stricken Trixie as the time for a jolly holiday. “Trixie’s bored of guessing!” she said firmly, continuing to walk. “Fine,” sighed Sweetie Belle, kicking a rock. “It’s a little booger hanging from your nose. I, uh, didn’t know how else to tell you.” “Oh come on!” shouted Trixie, wiping at her nose quickly. “That’s it, no more guessing games for you. Keep up, Trixie wants to find somewhere safe to camp out before the afternoon. It could mean—Sweetie? Sweetie Belle, where did you go?” she asked, surprised the filly could slip away so suddenly. The small muddy unicorn poked her head out from beneath a bush. “Get down!” she hissed, eyes wide with fear. Trixie paused, ears pricked in confusion. She hesitated, and then—buzzing. Swearing under her breath, she forced herself into the hollow of a tree, leaning back as far as she could. From her hiding place, she could barely catch a glimpse of black hooves flickering past the leaves above, the sound of hissing voices driving chills down her throat. Shaking, she closed her eyes and began to pray. She whispered a prayer for the old religion, one long forgotten by most. Trixie had never been particularly religious either way, but desperate times and desperate measures. “If I invoke the name of Celestia that she might smite down my enemies and cast them into my inner fire,” she mumbled, shaking as she waited, terrified to be found by the creatures overhead. “I invoke the name of Luna that she might shroud me in darkness and keep my inner demons at bay. I invoke the name of Cadenza that she might defend my loved ones and keep my inner world from crumbling.” Her breath caught. She felt tears of fear beading in the corners of her eye as she breathed out the final words of the prayer. “I commit my soul to Heaven above and Tartarus below, that if I might day tonight I am not lost to the world. Hail magic.” It was silent. So incredibly silent. Wiping the beginnings of tears from her face, Trixie dared to breath. Her heart was pounding, pounding so loudly. She was certain the changelings who wore armor in the shape of beetles would hear it and turn around, drying her of love and leaving the empty shell to wilt. None came back. Trixie’s breath came shakily, her hooves sore, her eyes red. She went straight to the bush where her young friend had hidden. Pulling Sweetie Belle out, she found herself wrapping the filly in a tight hug. Maybe it was to hide her tears from the kid. Maybe it was because she wanted to feel the touch of another living pony. All either of them knew was that nothing was okay. Author's Note Well, it's been an eternity since I posted! Hope this new chapter is good.
Things to ComeAt first she thought they were storm clouds-that is, until she heard the buzzing. And then the screams. Nobody seemed sure what was going on, but it was getting attention. A crowd was slowly gathering throughout the town, standing in the streets. It was so silent all you could hear was the distant blasts, and the breathing of the townsfolk. Everyone’s eyes were turned to Canterlot Mountain. The dark swarms slammed against the magic shield protecting the distant castle, pulsing and quivering as they fought against the magic, fighting for a way in. She tried to find her voice, demand someone tell her what was going on-but it seemed no one knew any better that she, and even so, her voice had died some short way up her throat. And then they pierced the shield, the pink light shattering with a blast that shook the earth. It was a heartbeat before ponies started screaming, panicking. Doors slammed and locked, others fell to the ground, cowering. She tried to run, but the crowd jolted her, even as she fought to keep her feet. “Stop!” she cried, staggering. Her voice was lost among the others. Finally, managing to get some ground, she ran. Someone knocked her hat free, but she kept running. She could get it later, she just needed to get out of here, find out what was going on. Stumbling, she pulled a sharp turn and-there. Letting out a noise of relief, Trixie plowed through the crowd. She magically flung open the door of her cart, leaping inside. She hesitated, watching as the street began to clear, then slammed it shut, casting a lock spell. It was dark and cold inside. Taking deep shuddering breaths as she tried to slow her heart, she yanked open a drawer, digging around inside. She tossed aside tarot cards, pencil stubs and other odds and ends, letting out a noise of relief as her hoof brushed the match box. Pulling it out, she struck it, lighting the match with a tiny flame. Her heart was finally beginning to calm down. Lifting it magically, she lit the candles up on the shelf, casting crooked light across the small space. Breathing hard to catch her breath, the pale blue unicorn slumped against the wall, sinking into her cot. She let her eyes fall closed as she focused on her heartbeat, trying to steady it-but her mind kept racing, trying to make sense of what she had seen. She could feel the chill of the late day in her bones, floating through the thin wooden walls, as insubstantial as the distant blasts. Canterlot was under attack-but by what, she wasn’t really sure, or why or how-everything would be fine. The Princesses-they would handle it. By the time the moon was in the sky, all would be well. But as the minutes dragged by, the muffled explosions didn’t cease-if anything, they were fiercer than ever. She tried to keep her mind busy, far from imagining the trouble up in Canterlot. She recited her times tables up to thirteen, thought of what trick to add to her show next, figured how to stretch her bits to cover dinner. It was still there however, the constant fear, hanging heavy on her, like a noose around her shoulders, waiting to snap tight. It felt like hours had passed, but it was hard to say. Eventually, the blasts became few and far between. And then, silence. Trixie stay curled up in her cot, eyes closed, listening. She strained her ears to try and pick up voices, or the sound of hoofbeats. For some time, all she heard was the high pitched tone of quiet. Doors began to open, voices murmuring hesitantly to one another. She lay there a heart beat longer, then dragged herself to her hooves. Three of the eight candles had gone out, too undernourished to go on. Pausing by the door, she hesitated. Opening it, she turned, blowing out the other five before jumping down to the cold stone path. She had hardly taken seven steps away from her cart when a hooded figure galloped into the square, a spray of pebbles and grit flying behind her. The figure skidded to a stop, tossing the hood back. The pony beneath the hood was strange, her skin striped, her mane, spiked. Her eyes were two dark splotches of blue, near gray with fear. “Do not stand around and gawk! We must hurry to escape the flock!” she yelled, moving back slowly, turning to glance back towards the Everfree. “The invasion will destroy us all, please ponies, heed my call! I have a sanctuary for any who need, but we must go before they come to feed!” There was some hesitant murmuring, but a tall pink pony stomped her hoof, racing towards the hooded pony. “You guys heard Zecora, come on!” “The Princesses can handle it,” protested one of the ponies hesitantly, backing away. “They’ve saved us before.” There were murmurs of general agreement. Slowly, cautiously, a small smattering of ponies joined the one called Zecora. “We cannot wait for a change of mind, we must leave while there is time,” she said solemnly, flipping her hood up. Trixie watched for a long while, trying to think straight. Finally, as the smaller group turned to head for the forest, she cut in. “Wait-what are you running from anyway? If you know, then tell Trixie!” she demanded, trying to hide the quaver in her voice. Zecora glanced back eyes almost glowing beneath her hood. “A creature in which few believe, the Changelings are those who lay this siege,” she said darkly. “Changeling? What the hay is a changeling! Somebody tell us what’s going on!” protested a cyan pegasus, glaring. The hooded pony shook her head in frustration. “Time mustn't be at waste! We are leaving with all do haste!” Turning, she galloped for the forest, and after a moment’s pause, the smaller group hesitantly followed. Trixie glanced to Canterlot, a chill gnawing her to nothing but veins. Everything was going to be fine; come tomorrow she’d have one more show, then pack up the cart and head to the next town. The princesses would handle the invasion, and by morning life would be back to normal. Perhaps, in another life, she would have been right.
Magician's EyeThe attack on the town began within the hour. There were no announcements, no proclamations of a successful conquest. No one gave word that the princesses had fallen, but they all knew. Ponies locked their doors a boarded their windows as a black storm of insect-like creatures spread from Canterlot, like an ever growing thunder cloud, swallowing out the sky. From outside her cart, Trixie could hear the crashes of wood and stone being smashed, even catching the faint hiss of the invading creatures, the changelings. She swallowed hard as she fasted her cloak tight around her neck, pretending the screams were of an excited audience, rather than a fearful crowd of victims. Taking a deep breath, she flattened her hat, tucking it away. She was sure they could here her heart pounding in her skull, smashing and pounding like a runaway train. But as she peered out the cracks of her door, she saw nothing. Turning, she took one last look around the small wheeled room that had been her home for the past year. Her cot lay askew, each of the stumps of all eight candles lay out where she left them, crooked and unlit. The drawers upon drawers lay open, as chaotic and disorganized as ever, half empty. She’d taken as much as she could, but the hidden pockets of her star-spangled cloak could only hide so much. She’d be back. The safety of Equestria was threatened almost weekly, and things always got better. They had to get better. Cold and dark thought it was, this was home. She’d be back. Soon. Taking one last firm deep breath in, Trixie unlocked the door, leaping out quickly. She didn’t bother to try and be stealthy, only ran, galloping as fast as her hooves would take her. There was no sight of the changeling creatures on the street she ran on, or even other ponies. But she could hear their voices echoing, seeing the distant flashes of green light coming from behind each building. She didn’t know where she was going, not really. But wherever it was had to be far from here, somewhere safe, untraceable, a place she could hide until it was all over. Even without a destination in mind, she moved with a determined urgency. She leapt over a fallen fruit stall, smashed apples spilt across the pavement. She paid no mind to the screaming, the screaming, oh Celestia there was so much screaming. She couldn’t afford to care. They were strangers, and they wouldn’t have stopped for her either. And if she did, she’d only go down with them. Just down the street, a small filly raced out of one of the buildings. Her pale violet and pink mane was muddied, and there were faint streaks of blood on her white coat. The young unicorn stumbled slightly, falling. The girl was in her path. It wouldn’t take too long to help her stand and start running again. Biting her lip, Trixie swore at herself silently as she approached the young filly, helping the small one to her feet. “Trixie thinks you should keep running,” she told the filly, moving to start off on her own again. “Please!” the filly interrupted. Her voice squeaked slightly, breaking with fear. When Trixie turned, she saw the girl’s soft green eyes were wide with fear. “I-I-I can’t find my sister or my parents and there are so many changelings, p-please, don’t leave me!” She was too small. Trixie knew the filly would slow her down, and then neither of them would escape. It wasn’t even a question. The filly couldn’t come. It wasn’t even an option. The filly couldn’t come. “Fine,” snapped Trixie angrily, glaring at the small pony. “But keep up. If you fall behind, Trixie won’t help you again. Got it?” The filly’s eyes watered, but she sniffed hard, clearly trying her best to look brave. She did her best to keep pace as Trixie started running again, although she clearly wasn’t the lightest on her hooves. “Y-you’re name’s Trixie?” She rolled her eyes in frustration, focusing on the street as they ran. “Yes, Trixie already said her name. Now keep your voice down.” There was a pause before she spoke again. “My name’s Sweetie Belle. I’m looking for my b-big sister. She’s a unicorn, she looks like me but with purpler hair, and blue eyes, and bigger,” she said, tripping slightly. “Trixie doesn’t care about your life story, now will you please keep it down!” she snapped. Her ears pricked. Her eyes went wide as she stopped, skidding to a halt. Now that her hooves were still, she could hear the buzzing clearly. Slowly, so very slowly, she turned around. When she first met her first changeling, she thought they were a black pegasus, just another pony fleeing from danger. But their eyes were too blue, too blank. Their wings shone in the sun, reflective and thin like a dragonfly’s. Dark spines cut a jagged outline across it’s body, and it’s expression was predatory. This was what a changeling was. “Kid,” Trixie said slowly, swallowing hard. She didn’t speak to Sweetie Belle as she spoke. The changeling was the only thing she could see, the only being she would look at. “Listen to me. You’re going to start running. And you’re not gonna stop.” Before Sweetie could protest, Trixie reached inside her cloak. She flung the small clod of black powder hard at the ground, summoning a small spark with her horn. The powder caught fire, swirls of gold and blue smoke bursting into the air. She could still hear the buzzing wings of the confused creature, even hear it coughing. Gritting her teeth, she dove through the smoke. Her mark was perfect, and she tackled the changeling to the ground. She smashed her hooves into it’s face, hitting it as hard as she could. It hissed fiercely, rearing back before it bit her. Trixie swore as she fell off, nursing the bite. The blood had a faint green tinged glow, as if some sort of magical poison. It leapt at her. She twisted, kicking her back hoof out, smashing hard against it’s jaw. Reaching deep in her cloak, she used her magic to pull out a long knotted rope of magic silks, quickly tying the creature to a lamp pole before it could strike again. Turning, she ran. It wouldn’t take long before the changeling tore itself free. She had to get Sweetie Belle and herself to safety. But apparently the kid had taken her advice after all. And yet, Trixie had a strange uneasy feeling. The foal was no where to be seen.
Changing Hands, Changing FacesThe forest. The strange hooded pony had lead the others to the forest, so maybe it was safest to hide there. She did her best not to think too much about it, and decided simply the best she could do was hope the young filly had gotten somewhere safe. It wouldn’t help anyone if she died. Telling herself that didn’t make Trixie feel any less guilty. She slumped to the ground behind a tree, peering back out at the town behind her. This couldn’t be happening. Monsters ravaged Equestria weekly. The princesses would break free soon, or some ragtag group of heroes would blast them with friendship rainbows or something stupid like that. Then Trixie could go back to her mess of a wagon, buy a gallon of butterscotch soda, and curl up in the candlelight with her old copy of Hoofdini’s Paper Magic. She’d be home again, exploring Equestria and amazing the simple pony folk. In fact, it wouldn’t be long at all, right? This was probably going to go something like the time Nightmare Moon had returned. It had stayed night for a day or so long than usual, then everything was fixed. It couldn’t be long until these insects were chased out for good, surely. Letting out a shaky sigh, Trixie forced a slight chuckle, shaking her head. Of course everything was going to be fine, of course. Anyhow, she was the Great and Powerful Trixie, wasn’t she? She’d be fine. She’d always been fine. Although she knew it wouldn’t mattered, and it would all be fixed in a few days, she decided to start trotting deeper into the thick treeline of the Everfree. It would probably be best to lie low until it all blew over, of course. She stumbled slightly as she walked, struggling to keep her footing on the rocky ground. She swore under her breath when she slipped on some tiny animal’s burrow, twisting one of her ankles. In spite of the sting, she limped through the mud, teeth grit. Night was slowly starting to fall, casting long shadows through the already eerie forest, bathing it in the evening’s faint golden-red light. After a time of walking she realized her footprints might be followed by those creatures, those things, but she’d walked so far, she figured it didn’t matter so much at this point. And she was too scared and too tired to care. At least, she didn’t care until she heard something running through the undergrowth. Trixie froze, taking a shaky breath in, her ears flattened back across her skull. Maybe it had been just a jackalope. That was probably it, yes. But then she heard the creature move again. It was far too big to be a jackalope. Was that the buzz of insect wings she heard? She turned her head quickly, certain she’d seen a flash of black out the corner of her eye. “H-hello?” she called into the darkness. She was still moving. Now, her gait was slow, hesitant. “W-who’s there? The Great and P-P-Powerful Trixie demands you reveal yourself!” There was silence. Then, footsteps. Slow, steady. They started somewhere out in the foliage. They were too cloaked in shadow and leaves to see. Step. She could hear dead leaves crunching. Twigs snapping. It did not slow. Step. The chill bit like the air had teeth. The creature was undeterred. Step. It was closer now. The crunching of feet was growing louder. Step. She could hear it breathing now. Step. The breathing was deep, like a wounded creature. Step. Did something touch her leg? Step. Her heart was racing. She should blast it, or run, or something. She couldn’t just stand there. But she couldn’t. She could hardly even breathe. The footsteps stopped. It moved slowly, clunkily. It lurched from the leaves like a half-living corpse. It was small, and dark, a sharp horn curving up from it’s head. It approached slowly. “T-Trixie?” said a soft voice weakly. The dark creature lifted it’s head, wiping some of the near-black mud and ichor from their face. It felt like the whole of the forest let out a breath of relief at the little stained white face. “Celestia ‘bove, I thought you were a goner, kid,” Trixie said, letting out a breath of relief. She paused a moment, wincing at her own accent. Focusing on her stage voice, she offered the filly a shaky smile. “The Great and Compassionate Trixie is... very relieved you survived. She mistook you for one of the... creatures. She wasn’t afraid, of course, naturally Trixie can handle herself!” “Of course,” Sweetie Belle said tiredly, offering an exhausted smile. She paused, biting her lip. “Y-you’re hoof! Is it okay?” Blinking, Trixie lifted her hoof to look at it. The already faint green glow had faded to nearly nothing, but the torn skin and blood looked even worse than it felt. She winced, tossing her head slightly. “Tis... only a scratch. Trixie will be fine. What about you? You look like you’ve been bleeding,” she said, gently wiping some mud from Sweetie’s left eye, moving gently as not to hurt the small filly. “Huh? O-oh, that! I’m fine, but while I was running, I bumped into a tree,” the small unicorn confessed, gingerly lifting a hoof to her head. “One of the ch-changeling things chased me into the woods.” Trixie paused, pulling out a long string of colorful knotted scarves. They were her nicer set-she’d used the other one to tie that changeling thing up so it wouldn’t chase her. She’d gotten them for her birthday, three years ago, and had kept them in top notch-condition since. Sighing, she began untying the yellow one on the end, then magically hoisted it to wrap it around Sweetie Belle’s head. “There. Why did it stop chasing you? The one that saw us back in town didn’t leave me alone until I tied it up.” Sweetie looked up at her with wide green eyes. “You didn’t kill him?” She blinked, hesitating. “I don’t know. Maybe it saw s-someone easier to chase or, um, something.” “Glad you got lucky, kid,” Trixie sighed, tucking the rest of the magician silks back into one of the hidden pockets of her cloak. “The Great and Powerful Trixie is looking for somewhere to retreat to until this all blows over. Would you like to come with?” The small filly hesitated. “But my sister... Rarity...” Trixie paused, hesitating before setting her hoof on Sweetie Belle’s shoulder. “You and Trixie can look for her together on the way,” she offered, managing an awkward smile. There was a pause of silence, and at first she thought she’d offended the filly. But then, Sweetie Belle looked up. She was smiling, her emerald eyes wet. “Th-thank you, Trixie.”
The First Steps of a Long JourneyTrixie paced impatiently around the fire, lifting dry wood onto the flames as she stepped. The crackling and smoke set her on edge, worried it might call the changelings to the small dip in the forest they’d settled in. There was no going back to her cart for supplies. She’d left it in the middle of town, and there was no chance she could get that far. Candles, pocket knives, smoke bombs, all as good as lost. She tried to scoff in annoyance, but instead there was only a pang in her heart. She’d lived there for so long. Taking a shaky deep breath, she sat, picking twigs and leaves from her mane. She was glad to not have a mirror on hand. She probably looked like some silly foal who’d been playing in the mud. Hah! As if the Great and Powerful Trixie weren’t good enough. As if she weren’t enough. She decided to think of other things. “P–please... d–don’t... I don’t want to, I don’t…” Trixie lifted her head, glancing down at Sweetie Belle. The filly slept close to the fire, curled in on herself. She muttered in her sleep, sometime mumbles of terror, sometimes unintelligible moans and hissing, as if she were in pain. Sighing, Trixie undid the clasp of her cape, tucking Sweetie in carefully to keep her from the cold. Sniveling kid. She’d probably just hold Trixie back. Taking a deep breath, she took to pacing around the edges of the camp again, worry setting back in. They’d need food, wouldn’t they? Maybe if some of the changelings left for a while, they could sneak into town, raid some houses. She glanced at Sweetie again. Too dangerous. But it wasn’t like she knew how to find edible berries in the forest. She wasn’t some crazy woodspony, she was a street magician, for Celestia’s sake! She paused, nodding to herself absently. She was a magician all right, and so she’d make good with what she had, just like always. She trotted over to the base of one of the tall Everfree trees, brushing her hoof across the ground. Finding a spot of wet mud, she started digging, upending as much as she could. She must have been louder than she thought, for not long after, Sweetie Belle came over, yawning. “Miss Trixie? It’s the middle of the night. Um, what are you... what are you doing?” the small pony asked, rubbing at the circles under her eyes. Well, at least she wasn’t having nightmares anymore. “You and Trixie are going to try and find someplace safe, maybe with those ponies who evacuated the village before with that ‘Zecora.’ You’ll travel at night, for safety,” she explained. Grimacing, she began kneading the wet mud into her fur. “And, of course, camouflage won’t hurt.” Sweetie Belle shuffled back, looking worried. “I don’t know about that Trixie. Th–those change—those things, they, they’re shapeshifters. They’re illusionists, h–how will we know if we’re safe?” Trixie ignored the chill that came with her own fears being voiced aloud, setting her jaw. “Trixie is... I am an illusionist too,” she said, offering a cocky grin she only half felt. “So I guess that means they’ve met their match. Come on kid, start muddying up,” she added, forcing twigs and leaves into her already messy coat. “That white fur stands out so much they’ll see you from next week.” “Is it the leaves?” “Nope!” chirped Sweetie Belle, picking her way carefully across the roots of the uneven forest floor. “Guess again!” “Is it your eyes?” “My eyes are green!? Oh, wait, um, yeah they are, haha. That wasn’t what I meant, though. Next guess?” she asked, laughing awkwardly, cheeks flushed pink. Trixie stepped up onto a fallen log, walking across a small ravine. As she did, she lifted Sweetie with her magic, floating her to the other side. “Trixie gives up. What is it?” “You can’t give up!” Sweetie protested, wilting slightly. “That makes the game no fun! Come on, guess again!” Fun? Wandering through a forest full of monsters in search for what very well could be the last remnants of civilization had never really stricken Trixie as the time for a jolly holiday. “Trixie’s bored of guessing!” she said firmly, continuing to walk. “Fine,” sighed Sweetie Belle, kicking a rock. “It’s a little booger hanging from your nose. I, uh, didn’t know how else to tell you.” “Oh come on!” shouted Trixie, wiping at her nose quickly. “That’s it, no more guessing games for you. Keep up, Trixie wants to find somewhere safe to camp out before the afternoon. It could mean—Sweetie? Sweetie Belle, where did you go?” she asked, surprised the filly could slip away so suddenly. The small muddy unicorn poked her head out from beneath a bush. “Get down!” she hissed, eyes wide with fear. Trixie paused, ears pricked in confusion. She hesitated, and then—buzzing. Swearing under her breath, she forced herself into the hollow of a tree, leaning back as far as she could. From her hiding place, she could barely catch a glimpse of black hooves flickering past the leaves above, the sound of hissing voices driving chills down her throat. Shaking, she closed her eyes and began to pray. She whispered a prayer for the old religion, one long forgotten by most. Trixie had never been particularly religious either way, but desperate times and desperate measures. “If I invoke the name of Celestia that she might smite down my enemies and cast them into my inner fire,” she mumbled, shaking as she waited, terrified to be found by the creatures overhead. “I invoke the name of Luna that she might shroud me in darkness and keep my inner demons at bay. I invoke the name of Cadenza that she might defend my loved ones and keep my inner world from crumbling.” Her breath caught. She felt tears of fear beading in the corners of her eye as she breathed out the final words of the prayer. “I commit my soul to Heaven above and Tartarus below, that if I might day tonight I am not lost to the world. Hail magic.” It was silent. So incredibly silent. Wiping the beginnings of tears from her face, Trixie dared to breath. Her heart was pounding, pounding so loudly. She was certain the changelings who wore armor in the shape of beetles would hear it and turn around, drying her of love and leaving the empty shell to wilt. None came back. Trixie’s breath came shakily, her hooves sore, her eyes red. She went straight to the bush where her young friend had hidden. Pulling Sweetie Belle out, she found herself wrapping the filly in a tight hug. Maybe it was to hide her tears from the kid. Maybe it was because she wanted to feel the touch of another living pony. All either of them knew was that nothing was okay. Author's Note Well, it's been an eternity since I posted! Hope this new chapter is good.
