The Radiant

The Great and All Powerful Trixie

The road from Appaloosa was always the worst.

It was several weeks away from anything, on foot, which is the only way Trixie could transport her mobile home and stage to new venues. The first week of travel, in particular, was very bad. Miles and miles of red dust and flat scrubland, dotted with the occasional rocky plateau, and not another soul in sight for a solid week straight.

Trixie sighed, adjusting the hitch around her shoulders, and pulled harder.

Last night while she was making camp, munching on plain hay and water, she had watched the sun set behind the distant Hirzai mountains, bathing her, her little cart, and the camp she’d made in brilliant summer red. When she’d been growing up, she remembered seeing the same color on the flowers that grew in the fields in the valley near her house. Castilleja, her mother had called them, Prairie-Fire. She’d watched the sun, enraptured, until it finally sank below the horizon, until she couldn’t see even the smallest finger of light peeking above the mountaintops. She’d ran a hoof over her face, and realized her cheeks were wet.

Her first reaction had been to laugh, surprised at her tears, a response which quickly morphed into fury, her hind leg raising just slightly as though to buck something behind her.

“The great, and powerful Trixie does not CRY.” She’d yelled, and when that didn’t help, she’d grabbed the cast iron pot she’d set out for boiling water and threw it as hard as she possibly could. It landed somewhere in the desert, bouncing off a rock with a satisfying clang.

“I don’t need…The Great and Powerful Trixie doesn’t need anyone’s help. She is more than sufficient to dazzle the world on her own.”

Looking back, talking to herself was not a good sign. And it had taken her hours to find that pot again.

She shook her head, pulling at her yoke just a bit harder, unconsciously trying to trot while she was pulling her cart behind her. Clearly, she just needed to get out of this forsaken desert with its Celestia-forsaken sand and it’s Celestia-forsaken rocks and move on to somewhere where it was green and nice and there were people around.

Not that she cared if anyone was around, but it was very boring all by herself.

She could see the crossroads sign up ahead in the distance. If she remembered correctly, the split in the road led to either Canterlot or Fillydelphia, depending on what way you took. Canterlot was a tough crowd, very upper-crust. They liked their entertainment refined and artistic, but sometimes the sheer novelty of her act drew in nobleponies and socialites who liked to see something more “folksy”. It had been awhile since she’d been there. She decided that it was worth a try.

About ten minutes later, she saw something odd. Someone else was on the path, standing at the sign. Trixie brightened up even as she scowled at herself for doing so.

Perhaps that person was lost? Trixie would be more than happy to guide them along the way. She knew all the paths and roads throughout the entire kingdom, from long practice and study.

Her grin faded a little bit as she got closer. It was quickly becoming clear that whatever it was, it wasn’t a pony. It was…tall. Almost as tall as the sign.

The creature slowly came into view. Trixie stopped, goggling.

It can’t be.

It was a human.

Trixie had never seen one, of course. Humans were extinct. She knew what they looked like, from pictures she had seen, artistic renditions the Princesses had shown of what the human skeletons looked like with flesh on them. And there were the stories: mercurial and terrible creatures, capable of compassion and cruelty within the same two breaths. Their passion burned like the sun itself, and in their unending ambition, they destroyed themselves. They were frightful, creatures of myth.

This one was smoking a cigarette. He looked to be wearing a black formal suit, adapted to his strange form, with a pair of round glasses perched on his nose, and he was leaning against the signpost for support. He tipped his hat to her, a short-brimmed thing that didn’t work at all to keep the sun off of him, all the while smiling at Trixie. Slowly, taking careful steps forward, Trixie ran her eyes over the strange creature, almost as though trying to confirm what her eyes saw.

He was wearing a Castilleja on his lapel. They didn’t grow in the desert, only in prairieland. It was more like a colored herb, and wasn’t something usually –worn-. He couldn’t possibly…

Trixie stared at him silently for a moment longer, standing very still.

“Good morning.” the man said.

Trixie blinked. “You can…talk?” She took another step forward, pulling her cart with her. “Trixie understood humans to have lived ten thousand years prior to the current time. How is it you can speak Equestrian?”

The human laughed, and took off his hat, using it to brush the dust from his jacket. “I would normally enjoy attempting to mislead you, but I have something of a schedule I’d like to keep. No, I’m not a human, just…close enough.”

Trixie raised an eyebrow. “Trixie is quite certain you look like a human. Is this some sort of prank? If so, Trixie is less than impressed.”

He gave her an even look. “When someone dies in pain, betrayed by those they trusted, and water the earth with innocent blood…the earth remembers the echoes of their lives. If enough die in the same place like this, the ground becomes hallowed. Cursed.” he said, giving her a sly grin. “The echoes of the dead, now, they aren’t quite souls, but they are very…well, close. Some know how to use them for their own benefit. One such freed me, and know I’m speaking to you on his behalf. I have an offer for you.”

Trixie’s mouth curled. “Really. The living dead have an offer for Trixie. Trixie thinks she’s heard just about enough for today. She suspects your silly little hat has left you with sunstroke.” she said, and began to pull her wagon towards Canterlot, setting a quick pace.

“How would you like to hear from your mother again?”

Trixie stopped, her head whirling around, both eyes wild with anger. She shrugged out of her harness and walked up to the man with short, brisk steps. “Trixie will thank you to not speak about Trixie’s family. Trixie’s mother is quite fine and I think this prank has gone quite far enough.” she said, her horn glowing.

She’d meant to rip the man’s belt off, tie his legs up with it and leave him hanging from the signpost, but where her Telekinesis touched him, his body disintegrated, swirling like smoke, as though she’d tried to grasp mist.

“I’ve met her, you know. She said she forgives you, Trixie. She misses you almost as much as you miss-“

The gem around Trixie’s neck, the one that usually served to pin her starry cloak in place during performances, glowed azure blue. Trixie’s eyes were white with magic, the sign of a powerful unicorn far more angry than they should be. Her tail and mane burned with magic, transformed into a deep blue flame, icy-cold and wreathed with stars.

“Oh please.” the man said, rolling his eyes. “I am a ghost. A living curse. More in your mind than in the world. You couldn’t harm me if you tried, not with fire, nor with light. Truly, I’m not here to mock you. I have an offer.”

Trixie snorted, pawing at the ground in front of her. “Trixie wouldn’t give a rotten apple what you have to offer. Trixie thinks you should leave, before she does something regrettable.”

“I was going to offer you a chance to speak with your mother again, but that’s not what you want, is it, Ms. Lulamoon.” his eyes, before an unremarkable brown, seemed to sink deeper into the shadows of his face, where they peered out with a dull red glow, like embers in the dark. “Something the Great and Powerful Trixie does want is…well, to live up to her name.”
Trixie ground her teeth.

“Admit it. Half of that display you’re putting on is pure illusion. The dead can tell. You’re not a tenth of what you claim to be.” he smiled, a mocking grin on his face. “Hard work can only take you so far, I suppose. They did say that such meager talents would find it difficult to be admitted to the Tower of Magic...”

“Enough!” Trixie spat, features twisted with anger. “Why should I-“

“Believe me?” the man leaned forward, mocking grin still planted on his face. “You should. Isn’t this your favorite flower?”
Trixie’s breath caught.

The man straightened up again, mocking grin gone. “My master can make the dead walk, and blot the sun from the sky. If power is what you want, he can give it to you. More power than you can imagine. You’ll be the greatest archmage to ever live. He wants in return only…a favor. A single task, after which you will be free to go on about your life.”

The embers of his eyes smoked. “Say no, and I will leave, and you’ll never see me again. Say yes…”

Trixie stood silently for a long time.

“Suppose I say yes. Who are you?”

He smiled. “The Dirge.”