Something to be Proud of

Chapters

Prologue
The Creature's Name
Lesson One
Practice Produces Progress
Celestia's School For Gifted Unicorns
Conjecture of a Theoretical Hypothesis
If At First You Don't Succeed
Trixie knows a Trick
Growing Up
Try, Try Again
Taking a Stance
Great and Powerful
Epilogue

Prologue

The words 'blank flank' echo in poor little Trixie's mind as she angrily wanders through the shrubbery of school's forest. She leaps over roots, stamps in muddy puddles, and shoves through foliage without a care or reason to her wandering. Too many of the students, it's called 'The Witching Thicket' but to Trixie, it's a getaway. A small little adventure she can go on to escape from... Well, to escape from being Trixie. And each adventure somehow ends up being just as unique as the last with the help of a little imagination.

As she pushes through a few bushes, muddying her hooves in willful ignorance of all her teacher's warnings from last time she did this, she comes to a cliff edge. Now blissfully unaware of how far into the woods she has gone, Trixie takes in the majesty of the view before her. The sunset seems to morph the colours of the plains and hills that roll into one another as sparsely dotted by trees as they race into the horizon.

"Woah, what is that?" the curious filly thunders as her echoes fall to certain doom.

Just a little bit away, between two hills, lies a little tower. At the right angle and the right level of maturity, the sight looks rather humorous. The kind of sight one would never bring up in polite company. Trixie snickers as she finds a steady slope to slide down so she can get a closer look. After that, it doesn't take too long to arrive at the towering hovel, and it looks well looked after. It looks like the house that has recently gone through some patchwork maintenance, the straw roof looks newish, and around back a few animals can be heard lazily going about their day.

Ever more curious than before, Trixie knocks, eager to see who or what could live here. Footsteps on the other side of the door get closer and closer filling the filly with giddy excitement. It doesn't dawn on Trixie that this stranger could be dangerous until the door handle begins to turn. Then her heart leaps into her throat causing her to second guess her position. She looks sideways for a bush but then finds her eyes leading upwards when the door swings open.

"Who in Equestria," says the strange creature that opens the door.

Whatever it is, it's tall. And stands on two rear legs. At closer inspection, it's bipedal like a shaved monkey but this one kept all the fur on its face. The creature is rather old and boney, unnaturally so. His grey fur is long in some places and nonexistent in other places. Like there's nothing on the top of its head save for the chin, where the hair reaches all the way to his knees.

"What are you?" asks Trixie in a kind of rude bewilderment.

Amazingly, the creature stands even taller from the offence. Despite a few painful sounding cracks, pops, and whistles groan from its back, it rises to stand in what would be intimidating if it had a more stoutly build.

"You come all this way to my abode and ask me who I am?" The creature angrily retorts, his mildly amused grin masked by his beard.

"Yes," Trixie nods plainly.

"I like you... But first, what are you?"

"Nuh-uh," Trixie says with a shake of the head, "I asked you a question first."

The creature crosses his arms and seems to think things over for a bit. Then nods in agreement.

"Fair point. I'm a human."

"I asked WHO not WHAT," beams Trixie, eager to try and get more answers out of the creature before it catches on.

"Did you? My memory must really be shot," the human says as its eyes glaze over into a faraway land. It smacks it's lips a few times as it thinks then looks down at Trixie as if for the first time, "Oh, who am I? Hmm... Actually, who am I? Flaming good question that."

The odd creature begins to scratch its face in deep contemplation. A few flakes of indeterminate origin fly out.

"How do you not know who you are?"

It shrugs.

"It's been a while since anyone asked, so I guess I stopped telling myself. I'm sure I had it written down here somewhere."

The creature heads back inside, leaving the door ajar. Trixie peers in a little, she takes care not to peer too far in so she doesn't track mud inside. That and it'd be rude to enter uninvited. She was raised with some manners after all, they just rarely useful as far as Trixie has been concerned. But whatever this thing is, Trixie finds herself in a strange position to believe that being on its good side is the way to go.

"Well, don't just stand there. Come in. Come in."

"I've got mud on me."

The creature pops its head around the corner, gives it a shake, and then waves his hand about in some mystical fashion. His dexterous little fingers dancing about as they glow.

"Fuddle-de-go-lud, remove-all-that-mud. Now where is that book?"

The Creature's Name

Trixie's hooves now have a shiny gleam to them after the human creature's spell. There's almost a reflection there. Trixie remarks for a moment how she doesn't think any part of her has been so clean before returning to the more pressing questions.

"You can do magic?" She calls as she steps inside.

"Of course I can. Don't be silly," as voice calls from one of the many rooms.

Trixie looks down a few as she tries to find where her host disappeared to. Once she catches a glimpse of him, he steps into the next room. She hastily follows to find him burrowing in a few bookshelves. Leaving him to his devices for a moment, Trixie scans over the room. A few animals like fish, birds, and insects are in tanks or cages across the room. Any space that isn't completely littered with paperwork, has magical rocks, plants, vials of unknown concoctions bubbling or humming away ominously.

"Can all humans use magic?"

"No. Just the interesting ones," he remarks as he throws a book behind him.

It nearly collides with a bird's cage causing it to screech and flutter about in a panic.

"Right. Sorry, sorry."

He hurries over to the birdcage to hush the skittish bird, and it seems to do the trick. Once it stops flapping, he places a cloth over the cage and then takes a seat. He gestures to Trixie to sit opposite to him, so she does.

"Are you senile?" Trixie asks abruptly, figuring it best to not mince words. It'd likely be easier to talk with him if she knew if he was.

The creature stops and gives her question some thought.

"No, definitely not. What a rubbish name senile would be anyway."

"I mean," Trixie stops as she decides his actions do kind of answer her question anyway, "How can you not remember your own name?"

"I talk to the bird, but not myself. I'm a genius, not mad," he says indignantly.

"Well, what do I call you then?"

"You can call me... Splendiferous."

He leaps up and throws his hands into the air causing little bits of confetti to spray from his fingertips. Trixie even swears she heard a little bit of fanfare, though assumes the creature just made it. With all that fur in front of his face, it's hard to tell when he talks at all. Unless his hair moves about a lot. Despite the oddness of the situation, or perhaps because of it, Trixie laughs heartily. And something seems to snap as she continues to laugh and laugh, so much that her cheeks hurt. The creature beams so brightly you can see it in his eyes. He returns to his seat as Trixie takes deep breaths and wipes away a small tear.

"I haven't laughed like that in a while," she says off-handedly.

This causes the creature to harden his mood. His eyes bore deeply into Trixie's and an aura of intensity seems to ebb from within.

"Why not?"

"I don't know. Just... Lots of school work I guess."

"Don't you get time off?"

Trixie nods.

"Then why don't you read a fun book, play with friends, imagine various breeds of happy talking frogs that can croak the alphabet then help them organise a choir to sing swear words."

Trixie chuckles again, much more dispirited by the new topic, then shrugs. To which the creature shakes his head and tisks.

"Are your friends also stressed like you?"

"Yeah," lies the uneasy filly.

"What are their names?" presses the creature grimly, leaning forward causing Trixie to avoid eye contact.

Like many folks often do when pressed for fictional names they haven't thought up prior, Trixie's eyes dart around for inspiration. She steals a glance at a few words on a piece of parchment in front of her then notices a fairy fluttering in a bottle behind the human.

"More the... Fae."

"More the Fae?"

"Yes."

The silence stiffens the surrounding air. As the pause stretches on, Trixie can feel but no longer hear the thundering of her heartbeat.

"Any others?" He cooly asks.

"Y-Yes. There's Starswirl... And... Celeste."

"Starswirl and Celeste?" the creature repeats, seemingly easing up a bit as he relaxes back into his chair with a quiet confidence.

Trixie mentally takes a sigh of relief.

"And... Morgan Le... What was that last name again? Blast this memory."

"Morgan Le Fay," Trixie slips, turning her face deathly white.

"Yes, I thought as much... Look, you need not lie to me like that. I mean, the closest thing I have to a friend is a possum familiar and this stain on my favourite mug I can never get out."

Trixie's head drops. She nods but refuses to lift her eyes from the floor and internally she is wreaking havoc on her own nerves as she chastises and insults herself relentlessly.

"Now, now. Don't do that. It does no good to think like that," the creature says as if he was there in her mind with her, "Besides, we have more pressing things to do if we're going to make it in time for your magical exams."

The creature pulls out a large tome from inside his robe and slides it across the table to Trixie. Trixie glances at the tome titled, 'Magic and its Magical Properties', then back at the human.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you need to study, don't you?"

Trixie warily backs up a little on her seat, "I never said anything about exams."

"Oh," the creature looks to the side and stares off at some place distant before his attention to the world he inhabits, "Did we not get to that part yet?"

"What part?" an annoyed Trixie asks.

"The part where you ask me to teach you magic."

"Who said I was going to ask you to teach me? What makes you think I need teaching?"

"You did, or rather, you will. That's if you want to do it. No sense asking if you don't want my help."

Trixie internally weighs the scenario in her head. While the thing before her is a little odd... Much more than a little odd, she does need help with her magic. Despite being a unicorn, Trixie does seem to have an ineptitude for magic. A growing worry that Trixie's teachers will discover she merely lucked her way through the entrance exam returns to her. Her head falls lower. Then she thinks of the human she has just encountered, and how he definitely has magic. Though he is odd, old, and doesn't seem to be entirely there. But he might have powerful magic. Something about him makes Trixie hold fast to that belief.

"Are you sure you could teach me magic?" she utters slowly as her eyes rise to meet an empty seat.

"Did you say you want one sugar or two in your tea?"

"Uh, none... Please."

"Right, here we are," he says as he returns with two ornate teacups each with spoons that stir themselves.

"So, you do need to give me an answer you know. I can't go getting ahead of ourselves like that, it would just be a waste."

"If you do teach me... I need a name, to call you. Are you sure you don't remember?"

He shakes his head.

"I'm sure we'll get to it around chapter seven or so."

Trixie eyes him with confusion until he taps the tome between them. Figuring there is some kind of memory spell in there or something, she leaves the matter alone. For now.

"So... That's a no to the Splendiferous."

"It doesn't suit you," an adamant Trixie shakes her head.

"Oh," the creature replies, dejectedly.

"I mean, you just don't look like one. You know?"

It's a poor attempt at saving the attempt, but the human takes note of her efforts and takes a breath to compose himself. His fingers tap on the table as he thinks.

"Well, what do I look like?"

"Old," Trixie snickers under her breath.

The creature looks himself over, and seems to have a particular fascination with his faded purple robe and it's starry pattern.

"If we are choosing one, then the name should reflect me a little. Don't you think? Though I look rather plain for a wizard, I suppose."

"No name, plain, and yet unique. In your own way. There's not really a word that fits that description."

"We can make up our own then. I recall in this old, dead language... Or maybe it was the other one... Anyway, we could combine words like 'an' which means something like without, then we combine it with 'name', and just chuck something wizardly at the end of it like 'ous'.

"An-name-ous," Trixie sounds it out then glares at the creature who smiles knowingly back, "You mean 'Anonymous'? As a name?"

"What's wrong with it?" He remarks, leaning back and stroking his beard proudly.

"Well... It's rather unimaginative."

Trixie is overwhelmed by how unimpressive this thing's thinking ability. How dull. How plain. How boring. And once he picks up on her opinion, he goes on the offence. He raises his voice and Trixie does too.

"What do you mean? I just imagined it now."

"You--It's not a real name."

"Oh, and you'd rather call the magical being of infinite power in the forest something like 'Derek' or 'Sprinkle Fingers' I suppose then?"

"Better than 'Anonymous'. At least Derek is a name!"

"Then how about 'Anon', for short?"

"That's not my point--ARGH!"

Trixie slumps back into her chair and resigns. She decides that something as trivial as a name isn't worth bickering over. And besides, it's his name.

"Let him have whatever he likes. But if he forgets it again, I'm going with 'Sprinkle Fingers'." she thinks to herself with a cackle.

Then she looks up at... Anonymous to check if he is reading her mind again. But he is sitting back in his chair, pleased with himself as he sips away at his tea. Which reminds Trixie to drink her own.

Lesson One

"So what will you be teaching me first?"

Trixie eagerly hops in her seat as Anonymous leans back to peer out a window.

"Hm, it is getting awfully late."

"Oh, come on. You can't just agree to teach me and then send me back."

"Well, I never did say I'd teach you."

Trixie tenses up from the shock and a wave of uneasy apprehension hits her like a charging yak.

"No... I apologise. That was a rather mean-spirited joke."

Trixie keeps her head lowered as inside she does her best to calm down and when it seems like that might take a while, she instead puts on a brave face as though it were a mask to smile wryly.

"Then to make up for it, you can teach me some magic."

Anonymous smiles back from behind that bushy fuzz then rolls the tip of his beard into his lap to stroke it like a cat.

"You're cheeky, I'll give you that. Hm, very well. How much do you know about magic?"

"I've been at Celestia's School for Gifted Unicorns for 3 months now, and I'm absolutely confident I am at the bottom of the class in ability, skill, and knowledge. But I remember that's what I need. Professor Inkwell says," Trixie clears her throat before doing a poor imitation of her teacher, "Every unicorn here needs to A.S.K. of magic. You all have 'a' for ability, and that is why you are at this very school. Some of you already have 's' for skill, but none of you has the 'k' for knowledge. That is why I am here--Blah-blablah-yadda-yadda! You get the idea."

"Ask of magic?"

Trixie nods.

"Well, I 'spose that is a start. If you're ever stuck, you should always ask."

"No, that's not what-- A.S.K. is an acronym."

"No-no. Forget that nonsense. Asking is always a great way to start learning. So, what do you want to learn?"

There's a VERY large part of Trixie that wants to carry on with the argument, there always is, but the prospect of starting a magic lesson wherever you want is too good for any filly to pass on. Especially not an ambitious one with dreams like Trixie.

"Fire," she beams with a smile bright enough to light kindling.

Anonymous looks around his house, "Not in here. Come on."

As he gets to his feet, bones and joints creak like he were some sort of haunted house yet he moves as if unimpeded by the wear and tear of age. Perhaps it's the reach of his legs, but he's a lot faster than Trixie so he is around the corner and out the door before she realises. Her pace turns into a hasty scamper, her feet moving faster than her brain can think where to place them, and she meets him in the backyard.

Outside has a cobbled courtyard with an empty fountain surrounded by strange but wonderful plants of likely magical nature. Even though there are more oddities in the flora than you could count, one tree stands out most of all. Perhaps for its plainness compared to the other trees, or perhaps because it's the only one with an animal in it that isn't a bird or insect.

"What is that?"

The animal is a little less than half Trixie's size, has four legs that cling to the branch, short and pointed ears, with a long and bushy tail. More notably is the circle-rim glasses and apron it is wearing that matches Anonymous' robes.

"Hm? Oh, that's Grandma."

Trixie gives a suspecting glance sidewards to Anonymous who chuckles when he notices.

"Grandma Poss is a possum and my familiar. No blood or legal relation, just magical."

"A familiar?"

"Yes. They're magical creatures who assist witches, wizards, and other such folks who are capable of magic to help them."

"What does Grandma Poss do?"

"Mainly she protects. Possum Magic is powerful stuff, even I wouldn't dare try temper with Grandma Poss' temper."

While interested in the familiar, the urgency to push on with a lesson has a stronger hold on Trixie's attention. Trixie nods then steps out into the courtyard.

"So, fire."

"Yes. First and foremost, aim at the fountain."

Eagerly, Trixie spins and takes a battle-like stance. There's a moment of silence before she finally turns back around. Standing there holding the 'Magic and its Magical Properties' tome.

"First, this."

Using her mouth to grasp the hefty tome, nearly dropping it in the process, she places it on the ground and flicks open to a random page. The page is blank. This causes Trixie to elicit an unsurprised snort. Turning a page leads to another blank. With increased irritation, Trixie flicks back and forth through the tome to find every page is blank save for the first page.

THIS BOOK IS THE PROPERTY OF:
Trixie Lulamoon

"What gives?"

"It's a magical book. Your magical book. It will contain everything you have learned about magic, once you write it down."

"Writing?" Whines Trixie, "I do SO much of that at school already though."

The book is slammed shut and Trixie pouts. Anonymous, however, is unyielding. He stands firm and glares. His eyes bore into Trixie who in turn feels more meek and small than she has ever felt before. Knees quiver as if some invisible weight had just fallen onto her back, her eyes seem to decide on their own that eye contact is impossible, and her voice catches in her throat which instead comes out as a muffled speak. Though she's unsure what exactly she was going to or even could say.

"Do you want to be a great and powerful magician, or not?" Anonymous' voice rolls like the low and distant thunder.

Still unable to speak, she manages a nod.

"Then you need to work for it. Work hard. And that means writing, studying, and practising. Do not waste both our time if you're not commited to this."

"I am," Trixie squeaks.

"Swear it."

"I am," repeats Trixie, this time sounding more like a squawk.

"No," Anonymous' voice softens immediately, "I mean really swear it. This will be your first magic lesson. If this what you truly want, then give it a big swear. There's powerful magic in a swear, you can even command fate with one if you're strong enough."

Closing her eyes, Trixie takes a second to think. While only a second in real time, in the mental space this thought stretches on forever. She recalls her mother and how she works as a Florist with her magic and how she wanted to do something similar. Her mother always enjoyed working with her magic. But that's not enough. The filly fills herself with determination and focuses on her own wants. Trixie wants to be great with magic, to be recognised, amaze, and spread the magic of... Well, the magic of magic. Even though this is what she wants, this isn't really much of goal or at least, it's not enough where she could command fate.

"I swear... That I will learn," she proclaims, her eyes staring back at Anonymous will all she can muster.

Unfortunately, it isn't much. And as two stare at one another, Anonymous softens as the face behind the beard moves into what can only be assumed is a smile.

"Now, what do you know about fire magic?" inquires Anonymous nonchalantly.

It throws Trixie to go from so stern to pleased in a moment's notice. But Trixie does remark that there is something calming about the whole ordeal now that she's on the other side. Eager to not be left behind and to start the lesson, she straightens up.

"Professor Inkwell says a fire is the total sum of oxygen, heat, and fuel. That we need to understand each component before we can create a magical chain reaction of the three--"

"Oh, pish-posh," Anonymous interjects with a dismissive wave of his hands, "How on Equestria you can be expected to learn any magic what with all that science nonsense."

"But, Professor Inkwell says magic is a science--"

"Not another word of this woman. I never want to hear about her blasphemous teachings. She is nothing but a gormless muppet."

Trixie muffles a very satisfying giggle. Professor Inkwell is her least favourite teacher, considering the Professor is the type of teacher to scold any student who doesn't understand her lesson rather than explain it better. Meaning Trixie is often on the receiving end of extra make-up and a lecture.

"I see we're going to have to start from ground zero," Anonymous cracks his knuckles, winces then gives them a shake.

"I could have told you that," Trixie mumbles under her breath.

Anonymous thrusts out a fist and then pokes a thumb upwards where a little flame floats just above his spindly appendage.

"What is fire?"

It feels like Professor Inkwell's lesson had just run through one ear and out the other now that Trixie wanted to recall them. It's not the easiest thing, but she tries fighting off the feeling a sense of failure as she focuses. The feeling grows as her memory goes blank. Eventually, the gargantuan sized creature that is 'Defeat' prevails, having Trixie resign into a poor and wrong answer.

"Hot," she shrugs.

"Yes. Excellent."

The genuine praise in Anonymous' voice sends her for a spin. Trixie blinks her eyes a few times as she tries to read the human wizard for any sign of decipt. The smile grows as his aged eyes twinkle.

"Now focus on that. Think of heat," he instructs as he places a few bits of sticks on the ground, "Just here in fact."

"But what about the oxygen or the fuel."

"Forget that stuff. Look," Anonymous squats down, "There are many ways to do just about anything. Some are better than others, and at times, the better way varies from person to person. This way is called... Oh, I forget the word for it now... I believe it's 'in-two-ition' or something."

"Intuition?"

"Yeah, it means the second way to do something. If we did it your teacher's way, that'd be in-one-ition."

"I don't think that's right," Trixie shakes her head fervently but Anonymous remains adamant.

"Now, start with warm thoughts then turn the temperature up bit by bit."

Wary, and with a raised brow, Trixie eyes him. She wants to argue, any creature that confirmed to any sense of logic naturally would want to argue with another creature thus stupid. But there was something about his confidence in his ways and encouraging gaze that leads Trixie into giving it a go. She thought of beaches in the summer, of hot pies, and dragons. Focusing harder and harder until Trixie realised she was holding her breath.

"It's no use."

"No. You were getting there. Once more."

With a nod, she tries again. She thinks of the desert in summer, of burnt toast, followed by a horde of fire-breathing dragons. She repeats the last image over and over, trying to build on the image too.

"These dragons are angry... At a town... And turning it to cinders... Fire. Fire. Fire. FIRE!" Trixie thinks with a concentration so hard, her eyes could have fallen out of her head.

The giddy cheers and clapping of Anonymous breaks her concentration. She glares at him then looks at where he points. A little spark. The tiniest flame. Nowhere near enough to light the wood, and just as soon as she notices it, it is snuffed out. But it was something.

Normally a filly who struggles with magic would be pleased with creating at least a spark. It is a good foundation to practice on. But Trixie is an ambitious filly. An ambitious filly with the ability for great arrogance, if only she had the skill to back it up.

"Take what you can get," Anonymous states sagely.

Annoyed by such a statement, Trixie scowls at him.

"That was pathetic," bellows Trixie.

Her pale blue coat was masked by the red flush of anger that had swelled and coursed through her like a hurricane. The anger rocks and builds momentum in her heart in an attempt to build pressure before firing to really cause damage.

"I thought I did okay."

"You?" Trixie voice is accusing.

"Well, it has been a while since I've taught, but--"

"Not you, that spark. How was justing thinking warm and fiery thoughts going to help me magic a flame?"

Trixie pants in an attempt to catch her breath. Anon sighs as he squats down to pick up the tome.

"Go back to school and write down what you've learned," he says plainly.

His calm tone and unreadable expression disarms her. Now all she was left with was a sense of trepidation.

"You can come back anytime you've got a free moment," he smiles.

Practice Produces Progress

It's dark by the time Trixie gets back to campus. Her stomach reminds her that it's well beyond dinner time, so she speeds up her beeline for outside the kitchen. The school is relatively trusting as the security for the grounds is nearly non-existent. Two guards patrol the entire campus at night and one during the day as the student body has never been the type to be trouble-makers.

Many come from fine rich and or noble families so good behaviour is already instilled into them, or they might have made it through a scholarship so the pressure is on to do well. A thought occurs to Trixie where she might be the first little rebel this school has had. Or at least the first in a long time. Mentally, she gives herself a pat on the back with a sort of pride.

Sneaking in is easy. A window was left slightly ajar with a tiny sliver of wood so no one would notice unless they knew to look. This has become a habit for Trixie after she very nearly didn't make it back in time because of an adventure in the Witching Thicket earning her a very stern lecture from Professor Inkwell about the improper behaviour for young ladies.

Trixie slips into the kitchen, and then quickly ducks under a table when she hears a noise.

"It doesn't sound like a hoofstep, maybe a door closing, it's hard to tell as the noise continues its echo through each room," Trixie thinks to herself once she arrives at the fridge, "I guess something small would be a good idea,"

Then she forgets all about the rule she just set once she grabs a bit of cake, an apple, a bowl of salad to snack on later, a peppered steak, and a slice of bread for the trip to her room. Pleased with her haul, Trixie expertly dashes back to her room in silence.

"I'm back," Trixie whispers into the empty space.

Each student gets his or her own room but when she lived at home, she would always declare her entrance for her mother. Even if she's not here, it provides a small bit of comfort to continue this ritual. She places the food on a desk and then throws the tome on the bed. After pigging away on her midnight raid, Trixie stares at the tome as Anonymous' words replay in her mind.

"Go back to school and write down what you've learned."

His voice was calm, he was composed, and then he smiled as if Trixie hadn't just yelled at him in anger. Trixie makes a mental note to apologise to Anonymous later, as soon as she can work up the nerves to bring up the topic.

"Maybe we can just sweep it under the carpet," she thinks to herself, "We did just meet today, what relationship is there to damage?"

She nods to herself, ignore the blatant flaws in thinking this way. She'll just do as she's told, and then it'll be fine. So she opens to the first blank page and begins by marking the date and page number. Then she stares up at the ceiling unsure of what to write.

Now that she was having a moment to think about it, Anonymous made less sense than Professor Inkwell most of the time. At least with the Professor there was sound logic, even if Trixie didn't get it. Trixie shrugs and begins to write how she recalls Anonymous describing things to her.

In-two-ition, Is the ability to use magic without needing to know the science. Knowing the science, components of magic, and the rest of that heavily logical approach is called in-one-ition.

The quill holds still on the page as she makes the full-stop, bleeding ink all over the page as Trixie thinks.

"Maybe... He had to have meant intuition, but how--" She says aloud to aid in the thinking process before reaching for a Pradford Dictionary.

Intuition
noun
The ability to understand something instinctively, without the need for conscious reading.
synonyms: instinct, divination, hunch, feel
antonyms: intellect, comprehension

Trixie slams the book shut in a huff.

"You can't teach instinct... Can you?"

Opening the dictionary back to double check the meaning, Trixie tries to entertain the idea. If anyone thought they could teach instinct, it would have to be that senile creature.

"Stupid studying!" mumbles Trixie.

She slams the book once more. The more thought she gives it, the more convinced she is that Anonymous had to have meant intuition. Repeating the meaning and the synonyms do cause ideas to swirl and whirl in their primordial forms then the addition of focus ages the little nuggets of wisdom until they evolve into full-fledged bits of curiosity and wonder. Trixie sits still at her desk, lowers her head, and thinks of warm thoughts.

Fire. Then she holds onto the image. At first, it's a small flame but then it grows and spreads. It begins to billow large amounts of smoke. The crackling of the fire flicks about, sending sparks of flame all over the place as it consumes both the air above it and the wood below. The fire in Trixie's mind grows so large even the air around it feels intense enough to burn. Then she tries imagining the feeling as if it were real. Imagining a heat that'd be so dry her lips would crack in an instant, a roaring sound that rage in her ears, the suffocating air as smoke fills her lungs. The sensation holds vividly in her mind and she begins to push it. She pushes it to the front of her mind where her horn lies and heaves with all her willpower.

Then a flame sparks out from Trixie's horn and onto the desk with a force that knocks her off her chair. With cat-like reflexes, she leaps up to admire her accomplishment but it is quickly snuffed out when she sees the fire burning into her desk. In a panicked haste, she grabs her blanket and fans out the flame before opening a window to air out her room.

"I did it," she states with a swelling sense of pride.

Celestia's School For Gifted Unicorns

"Now, who can tell me what properties we get if you mix the nectar of speculum and caligo root essence?" Professor Inkwell asks the class.

Trixie fights the urge to bash her head against her desk and instead opts to sink low in hopes she won't be seen. The troubled filly feels that these classes are always far too advanced, this sort of information could only be known by those who have attended some sort of University. And yet the usual know-it-alls shoot their hooves into the air and wave them about eagerly in hopes of earning their teacher's favour.

"Let's see," the Professor scanned over each student, deliberately looking for someone who doesn't usually answer, "Ah, Miss Floribunda."

The filly next to Trixie sits up straight after quickly checking on her prissy and overly styled mane.

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Come to the front and write the answer into our formula please."

Floribunda gets up from her seat and gives a little curtsy. Trixie rolls her eyes and internally dry retches, knowing actually doing it would be metaphorically suicidal with Inkwell looking in this direction.

In her usual way of walking, that is like a half saunter and half stroll, Floribunda reaches the front with all the air of someone with great confidence in themselves. Or more accurately, arrogance. She is one half of a terrible duo. Floribunda being the looks and nobility half to her friend Rotten Apple who is the brains and skilled half. That's not to say Floribunda isn't smart or skilled, but Rotten Apple's talent seems to make even the smarter students look dull.

"A real prodigy," Trixie thinks to herself with all the contemptuous ridicule one can muster.

Together, they are an arrogant, self-centred, and snobbish duo that Trixie despises. And they hate Trixie too. They dislike anyone who refused to acknowledge their "distinction."

"Excellent work Miss Floribunda. You may return to your seat," Professor Inkwell says in a pleased tone yet her face remains the same stonewall of boredom it always is as the bell rings, "Miss Trixie?"

Trixie bolts upright to attention.

"Yes, ma'am?"

"I'd like a word with you if you would remain behind for a moment. Everyone else, you may pack your things and enjoy your recess."

There is a loud shuffle and low murmur as a collective as the student rise and shovel their things into saddlebags in an impatient bid to get out. Trixie remains seated for the short time it takes for it to be just Trixie and Professor Inkwell.

"Come to the front please, Miss Lulamoon."

Slumping her saddlebag over her back, Trixie heads to the front where she is convinced that certain doom awaits. She looks up at the Professor who in turn raises a brow expectantly. Which seems to have the professor's intended effect. Now Trixie's mind is abuzz. Questions race through her mind in a whirlwind of panic.

"Oh, no. What does she know? She knows I stayed out past curfew, doesn't she? Or maybe it's that I stole food from the kitchen? Wait... It's both isn't it?"

Then in a mix of added agony and relief, Professor Inkwell finally explains.

"I know you have fallen behind the other students, so first I would like to begin by saying in no way do I wish to discourage any extra studies you are doing. Understand?"

Trixie nods.

"Well, it seems last night you set a little fire. Am I right in thinking it was because you were trying a spell?"

Trixie nods.

"Very well. I am glad you're trying Miss Lulamoon, and if you ever need help you are more than welcome to ask. However, I need to ask that you refrain from dangerous spells for the time being. Perhaps when you are more able, return to fire. Does that sound acceptable to you?"

With a very satisfying internal sigh, Trixie nods.

"Now, self-study is important. But it is just as important that you are doing properly. Have you been making notes?"

Trixie nods but then a prolonged silence forces her to suddenly speak.

"I-I got a blank book yesterday Ma'am. I made some notes in it."

"Let's see then."

She drops her bag onto the ground and rummages through before finding the tome and hands it to the professor. Using her magic, Inkwell places it onto the desk and opens it up.

"In-two-ition?" Professor Inkwell states with a severe amount of disgust, her face finally showing some emotion by screwing up like a wet cloth.

BA-THUMP! Trixie's heart thunders in her chest as she realises that no matter how this ends, it'll be poorly. Likely in detention, or writing lines, or worse extra lessons. No matter how this goes, Trixie finds herself only capable of imagining it being something that will end her lessons with Anonymous. While she only had one lesson and it didn't make sense at the time, it kind of does now. Anonymous must know what he's talking about. Or be crazy enough to be lucky at it. And there's a rising pit as she recalls yelling at him yesterday, and he just smiled at her.

"Miss Lulamoon--"

Her voice dies off with an odd strangled noise in her throat as she closes the book and sees the cover. There's a pause as she seems to read the title over and over, then she flicks to the first page.

"Property of Trixie Lulamoon... I see."

Then the book is handed back. There's no room for any other feeling than amazement as Trixie looks up at her Professor.

"I will say, this sort of teaching method is extremely unorthodox. But different ponies learn in different ways, I know that. If this works for you then... Well, I shall be watching your progress to make sure. Now off you go."

Not willing to stay around and ask what just happened, Trixie grabs her things and darts into the hallway. She keeps running until she is around a corner then takes a moment to catch her breath and mentally pat herself on the back. Unsure of what she did, Trixie is just proud she got herself out of it.

"What's the matter Trixie?" A scornful voice remarks from a few metres away.

Trixie looks up to see Rotten Apple and Floribunda staring at her with wide grins.

"I heard you got in trouble. What did you do this time?" Rotten Apple jeers.

"She's got to be on her last leg now," adds Floribunda, "I wouldn't be surprised if they were going to kick her out today. If the ponies out there found out they let in a unicorn of her calibre, heh, well it would damage the school's reputation."

"They let me in because they know I'm better than all of you," lies Trixie.

"Oh, I know. I bet mummy asked a favour," scoffs Rotten Apple.

"Probably desperate to get rid of such an embarrassment," Floribunda laughs.

By now a few of their posse have arrived and begin joining in on the laughter. In a fit of anger, Trixie grabs her saddlebag in her teeth and launches it at Floribunda's head.

"You wanna try that again?" Snarls Trixie like she is some kind of wild animal.

"She's going to bite me again, Rotten Apple do something!" Floribunda squeals.

But Rotten Apple isn't paying attention. He is focused on one particular book that fell out of Trixie's bag. He lifts up 'Magic and its Magical Properties' and inspects it. Trixie's eyes go wide and all the fight in her is redirected.

"That's mine, put it down."

Rotten Apple's horn lights up and his magic creates a barrier, preventing Trixie from advancing.

"What is it, Apple?" asks Floribunda.

"I'm never heard of this one," he says aloud as he opens it up, "I'm curious. It's a thick book, I thought it'd be too difficult a read for our friend here."

"We're not friends," bellows Trixie.

"Hardly," he scoffs, "Oh... This book is the property of--"

Then he is cut off as a green mist sprays him. He scrunches his nose then sneezes. And again. Again and again. Each time in between sneezes is slightly faster than the last.

"What did you--Ah-Choo--do? There's no--Ah-Choo--way a loser--Ah-Choo--like you--Ah-Choo--could make--Ah-Choo--an--Ah-Choo--enchan--Ah-Choo--ment--Ah-Choo!"

As the sneezes become more frequent, Rotten Apple is rendered into a constant stream and runs off. His sneezes echo down the hall for some time as all the remaining ponies stare at Trixie.

"What did I say? Now," Trixie feigns confidence while walking up and shovels her things back into her bag, "If anyone touches my stuff again, I'll start thinking of MUCH worse."

Conjecture of a Theoretical Hypothesis

Trixie knocks on Anonymous' door and listens to the scampering, clatter, and bird screeching as he rushes to the door.

"I was just taking a nap," he says as his hair is a mess and his eyes have little droops under them, "Ah, you've been writing in my--your book."

"Yeah, how did you know?"

"I'm all powerful, obviously. I can read anything without looking. It's why I've never had a library card."

Trixie chuckles as she is lead in.

"So... Is it o-okay if..."

"We do another lesson? Of course, I said to come by whenever you've got time."

"It's just..."

Anonymous turns around and smiles warmly at her. Even if she can't see his mouth, she knows there's a happy smile behind it. Somehow, she just knows. And his eyes are so hard to read. She's not sure if he has forgotten, or doesn't care. Either way, if he wants to move on with the lesson, Trixie is fine with that.

"I wasn't sure if you had a lesson plan ready or anything."

"You think I, the splendiferous and fabulous Anonymous would dare be unprepared?" His voice booms as he throws his hands up in the air for glitter to shoot out of his fingers.

Trixie muffles a laugh.

"Yeah, I got something," he says cooly.

The two walk through the tower's messy rooms and out into the courtyard where there is a table with a tea set on it. Anonymous sits on one end and gestures for Trixie to take the other. Then Anonymous begins pouring the hot tea into each cup, sits back, and sips.

"What will you teach me today?"

"First tea and a bit of a chat, then we learn."

"But--"

Anonymous holds up a hand to silence Trixie, "Trust me. Tea is crucial to our lesson."

Trixie sits quietly as she sips her tea too and imagines the endless possibilities of performing a magic that needs tea inside you.

"What if you could control the tea inside someone?" She thinks to herself, "OH! And use it to control them. Wow, all the things I could make people do just by giving them tea."

The malevolent mare muses over the possibilities as Anonymous internally shakes his head while watching her.

"How is school?"

The sudden topic causes Trixie to be filled with dread.

"Okay," her voice cracks.

"That's good. Finished that tea yet?"

Trixie shakes her head.

"Well, drink up."

She tries to take a big sip and burns her tongue. Anonymous frowns as he leans forward then waves his hands about.

"Rassa-frassa."

Then by magic, the tea cools to a nice level and the pain in Trixie's tongue disappears. She gives an appreciative nod then takes a big gulp of the rest of the tea. Then she leaps off the chair eagerly skipping on the spot. Anonymous leans over once again and stares deeply into the cup.

"Take a seat," he says distantly, "Hmm, interesting."

"What is?"

"I'm using your tea leaves to read your future."

"Tea leaves can do that?"

"No, of course not. What would tea leaves know about precognition?"

"But you said you were using them to read the future."

"Yeah, I am reading the future. The leaves are just something to look at while I do it."

"I... I don't get it."

"Let me explain... Oh... Well."

"What is it?"

"It seems many years from now, you are going to make quite a few bad choices. Acting, not thinking. That sort of thing. But then... Ah, you'll do your best and make a lovely friend. She seems like a nice girl. Do hold onto that one."

"Could you explain more," she says with her hooves on the table, in a desperate fear of future failure.

"I can't do that," Anonymous shakes his head, "It could lead to too many changes and I can only remember so many timelines."

They sit in silence for a while. Anonymous gets lost in thought as Trixie looks around at the various plant life. The place seems a little more alive now. A few strange birds likely never seen before to pony-kind can be seen making nests, some strange bugs flutter around, and a fish leaps out from the fountain Trixie could have sworn had no water in it during her last visit.

"Here, we'll do some magical theory."

"We've already done that," whines Trixie.

"Really, you've gone over every single theory about magic that's ever existed?" Anonymous scolds as he taps Trixie on the nose with a deck of cards, "You know your teacher's prefered theory of magic, not mine. But let me begin by saying nobody knows magic truly, not even someone as wise as I knows. We're all infants guessing where the universe is as it hides its face behind its hands to surprise us with a peek-a-boo. Much like a cat, no theory is right or wrong."

"Cats can be wrong," replies Trixie as she rubs her nose.

"Nope, they're far too morally ambiguous to give them an alignment."

"What's with the cards?"

"We would be onto that if you didn't bring up your Professor's teachings, I told you I don't want to hear about her lessons. They'll only confuse you and get in my way."

Trixie nods obediently.

"Now, with magic, we can do many things," Anonymous holds out the deck of cards for Trixie to pick one.

She grabs the King of hearts and clutches it to her chest so Anonymous can't see. He gives her the smile that Trixie is fast becoming used to. It's an oddly disarming smile. Looking at it, you know he is friendly and Trixie doubts he could ever do any harm, yet that sort of conclusion puzzles her. No smile could ever say that. Otherwise, everyone with a malicous intent would work tirelessly to master it. But somehow, she knows.

"We can exchange," he announces as he holds up the King of hearts.

Trixie looks down at the card in her hoof to see it is now the King of spades and a smile spreads across her face.

"Or move."

As he grips the King, he slides his fingers to reveal the second card. The King of spades. Now there is nothing in Trixie's hooves.

"We can even change."

Anonymous brings the cards back as one then gives it a complete spin in his hand to reveal the card is now a green King with a wizard cap as the suit symbol. And then Trixie notes that the little king on the card has a striking resemblance to the human holding it.

"At times we can destroy," he declares as the card in his hand combusts in an instant, leaving not even ash.

"And my favourite is that we can create."

Anonymous' hand rests on the table then as he slides it back towards him, he reveals a purple Jack card of the wizard cap suit, but this picture looks like an older Trixie rearing back while wearing a wizard hat and robe. Trixie leaps onto the table to get a closer look at the card. Anonymous smiles at her as he puts the deck of the cards away.

"The point is, is that we can do many things with magic. But why?"

Trixie shrugs. Anonymous shakes his head.

"Magic is an agent of the universe. Like light, air, or gravity, but it's so much more. It is a fundamental part of it. There is no such thing as a magicless creature or object. It's an energy field created by the universe. It surrounds us and penetrates us; it binds us together... Like glue."

"But Miss said--" Anonymous' index finger shoots forward and stop right in front of Trixie's eyes, she has to go cross-eyed a little to look at it and blinks a few times from the strain.

"I know her theory, but how do you explain how a hoof can grab objects, how heavy and misshapen birds with lion halves can fly, or how every single thing know exactly where and when to be when it needs to be. There's an unconscious magic in everything."

"So, how does this help me do magic?" asks Trixie, still unconvinced but willing to entertain the idea.

"It means you can do magic."

"I already knew that," Trixie rolls her eyes.

"Look, it means you don't need all this extra stuff. None of the science behind it, no incantation, or whatever else. Magic keeps the universe together. Say, for example, it knows how to correct history when it goes off course a little then it's no trouble at all to fix your spell if you mess it up a little. Just do."

"Just do?" Trixie scornfully repeats, "I don't think you could be any less help if you tried."

Now it's Anonymous' turn to roll his eyes.

"Gimme a sentence."

"What?"

"A little plain and boring, but fine. Now name a colour."

"Blue."

"Now watch," he declares as he turns around and casts a spell on the fountain while saying, "WHAT?!"

And before her very eyes, the fountain turns into a bright and glittery blue as the new sheen reflects the water and fish that are swimming around in it.

"I've seen you use non-sense words before. I bet that has to do with you being powerful."

Anonymous puffs out his chest and shines his knuckles on his robe, "Well, yes. I am rather... Splendiferous."

"I'm not like you."

"Well, obviously but I'm not teaching you how to use my magic, I'm teaching you to use yours."

"But you're not making sense."

Crouching down low, with his knees coming up to his head, Anonymous meets at eye level with Trixie. As if on cue, he smiles. This time, however, Trixie is annoyed by it. Feeling scorned by the fact that he would try to comfort her at a time like this. While Anonymous means no ill will behind his smile. He knows Trixie thinks he treats her like a kid, but once you reach an age like Anonymous, you learn that sort of thing is all the same in a general sense.

"Professor Inkwell is a remarkable teacher. She is able to break down all the components of magic, elements, and agents to explain with formula. That makes it easy for the ponies who prefer logic. The magic I am teaching you, is as I am sure you understand now, intuition. You feel the magic and apply it."

"But how?"

"I told you, don't bring your Professor's lessons here. They'll only confuse you."

"So... You basically want me to... Start at ground zero?"

"Well, not entirely. You did a little bit of fire magic already. So, more like ground one. That's got to feel a little better, right?"

Trixie gives him a distasteful glare but it doesn't hold long. As she thinks over how lost she is in Inkwell's lessons, there's a sense of "What have I got to lose?" that leads Trixie to resign to fate. She nods and Anon smiles.

"Excellent," he finally adds before looking upwards to the now night sky, "You best get back. I'll see you again when you have time."

If At First You Don't Succeed

Trixie wanders into the Witching Thicket and follows what is now a familiar path to Anonymous' towering hovel. When it's in viewing distance, Trixie notes that the roof is gone and in its place is an odd looking greenhouse or perhaps a cage.

Once there, she knocks twice and waits. When there is no answer, she lets herself in. Anonymous never locks the door just in case he is taking a nap or in the middle of something when Trixie arrives. While she could just barge in as soon as she arrives, Trixie feels she isn't quite that familiar with Anonymous. Yet.

"Anonymous, you around?"

"In the aviary," he calls from upstairs.

All of Trixie's visits have been on the first floor where the entire floor is a messy office, or outside in the courtyard where all of Anonymous' magical creatures roam freely. As if on cue, a firefly zips around Trixie's head. She watches the orange trail that it leaves behind as it whizzes around, propelled by the great gaseous flame coming from its butt. There's a faint smile that appears on Trixie's face as she recalls how one of the fireflies is terrified of heights and often gives a faint, high-pitched scream as it whirs about.

"Coming," Trixie shouts.

The stairs circle around the room as they ascend, she skips a few in a hasty glee to explore more of this strange tower. Once she reaches the second floor, she peers in to look for Anonymous.

"Anonymous?"

This room is the living quarters. On one side is the bedroom, with a few chests and wardrobes while on the other is the kitchen. There's even a long dining table with thirteen chairs in the centre of the room pushed and stacked up against a wall. But all of it looks so unused and clean aside from the dust. Though, in the centre of the room is a heap of clay oddly slapped into a bipedal shape. Knowing Anonymous, one might expect a mess of clothes but mainly papers and things for magical experiments to be littered everywhere. Instead, there is just a heap of earth. As Trixie wonders where Anonymous must sleep as the bed has collected more dust than anything else, his voice sings out.

"One more floor."

Trixie starts hopping up the stairs until she reaches the door to the roof. She opens it to see the roof where the greenhouse looking thing she saw on approach. Various bars hold a tinted glass in place to create a glass house but a few pieces. Anonymous is sitting at a desk painting an egg. He pulls up a stool for Trixie.

"What are you doing?"

"Painting an egg."

"But why?"

"I'm making," Anonymous pauses as he concentrates carefully on a precise brush stroke, "A phoenix egg."

"What?"

"I am making a phoenix egg."

"I heard you, I just don't see how that is a phoenix egg."

Anonymous pauses to hold out his creation, twirling it in his fingers carefully. White, yellow, orange, red, and blue swirl around like a vortex on the little egg.

"Why blue?"

"Do you know how a flame can burn blue?"

"It's... because of how hot it is, right? But there are also some chemicals that burn different colours, yeah?"

"Yeah, pretty much. Anyway, phoenixes are really hot, yeah? So... Blue," he finishes as he holds out his egg once again, this time with pride.

"Phoenix eggs don't swirl like that though," Trixie finally mentions.

Anonymous looks at his egg once again, now with a look of dejected disappointment.

"Have you seen one before?"

"Pictures, yeah."

He grabs the paint and the carton with a dozen eggs to slide them over to Trixie. Taking her cue, Trixie grips the brush, washes it off in water, and begins to apply a base coat of red as Anonymous leans on his arm to watch.

"How's school?"

Trixie's mind flashes back to the Dynamic Duo's retaliation after the book sent Rotten into a sneezing fit. In a school of magic, you'd think they'd resort to magic. Yet their method of bullying is rather archaic and barbaric. Opting for throwing her bag on the roof, appearing from nowhere to trip her, and throwing things at her head in class. Trixie was, or rather still is, the type to lash out. Something with teeth usually did the trick on Floribunda while Rotten Apple was a bit trickier. His reflexes were sharp and his magic was strong for his age rendering her own barbaric options impossible. So usually Trixie just went for the one.

But now? Now Trixie is feeling more confident. Anonymous was teaching her magic and if she could use magic even half as easily as Anonymous did, the Troublesome Two would have quite the backlog of payback coming. If Rotten Apple and Floribunda were actually the attentive types of clever, they would have noticed the sudden change in Trixie's reactions. If anyone were to go from constant counter-attack to acceptance in a day, you would do well to sense the immense ominous foreboding. A mind like that will always contain a list that tallies every wrong thing you do until they are ready to read them all back to you.

"Trixie?"

"Hm?" She replies once she realigns with reality.

"Everything okay at school?"

"Still behind on my lessons," she states in hopes that is enough to satisfy the question.

Anonymous nods. He seems to accept her answer, though he is the type where you're never sure if there is such a thing as certainty. Or at least, you weren't sure if you could be certain around him. Trixie was at least sure about that much.

"Done," Trixie says as she holds out the egg.

Gingerly, Anonymous takes it into his hand and looks it over carefully. The red base is layered over with orange and yellow with white lining. He holds it up to his ear and gives it a shake. Trixie is unsure exactly what type of criteria she is being judged for, but it seems to pass as Anonymous smiles.

"Worth a go."

Bones creak and wheeze as he gets to his feet and heads downstairs. It's not a hard decision for Trixie, while painting flame patterns on eggs is an amusing way to past the time, Trixie is an extremely curious creature. If 'curiosity killed the cat' then Trixie would need to follow after it. So without any internal debate, she follows Anonymous.

Downstairs in the living quarters, Anonymous dusts off what can be best described as a cooking bucket and places it over a freshly lit fire. Then the egg goes in and he takes a seat by the fire to wait. Trixie pushes a chair, the wood screeching along the timber wood floor the entire way, and sits beside the wizard.

"How long will it take?"

"Oh, all night I wager."

"You're going to sit here all night?"

"Well... Yes, I suppose. Haven't got much else to do."

Trixie pauses as she wonders just how forgetful or senile Anonymous might be.

"No, there's no way he'd forget," Trixie tells herself, "Then again... A free afternoon would be nice if he did."

"How is this going to make a phoenix?" She finally asks as the question becomes too much for her to sit on any longer.

"Phoenixes need heat to be hatched," Anonymous replies flatly.

"But, that was just a regular egg, wasn't it?"

"If you mean, before you painted it, yes. It was a chicken egg. Plain ol' chicken. But after your handy work--or would it be accurate to call it hoofy?"

The nature of this question grips Anonymous' mind firmly and seems to take him away. His hand strokes his beard and his eyes gaze deeply beyond the fire as he wonders and ponders.

"Anonymous," Trixie says with a nudge.

"What?"

"You said it was a chicken egg before I painted it."

"Yes, and now it's a phoenix egg," he tells her in a serious voice.

Sometimes, Trixie found herself staring at Anonymous' face to try and find some hint that he was joking or crazy. Perhaps the fact that he could say something like that and be completely serious about it meant he was crazy. If he were crazy, how crazy did that make her for coming to his lessons all the time?

"I don't get how a bit of paint makes it a phoenix egg--"

"The world is made up of things you don't know. If you know how to use that, well, Let me put it another way... If I don't know this sort of thing is impossible, then how will the universe know to stop me?"

"What?"

"That's a good point. You better start thinking that the egg in there is a phoenix egg or you're going to get me into a lot of trouble."

"Trouble with who?"

"Best we don't mention her name. She doesn't like when I forget to stick with the laws of physicals."

"Physicals? You mean physics?"

"That's the one," he clicks his fingers and points to Trixie, his eyes unbreaking from the fire as it crackles away.

"You do know you don't make sense most of the time, right?"

"That's right. Because I'm making a phoenix egg."

Trixie lets out such a tremendous groan that she gets light-headed and falls off the chair.

"You alright?"

Unable to muster any real energy to open her mouth, she groans back from the floor. That was another thing about Anonymous. Let him talk for too long and you get a headache just trying to keep up.

"Now see here. If I went around thinking about what my mouth was saying and where it was dragging the conversation kicking and screaming, then I'd have less time to focus on all the important things I need to do," harrumphs Anonymous.

"Like hard boiling an egg?" Trixie replies in a sarcastic groan.

"Look, you don't become the most powerful magic user in the eight observable universes without knowing a thing or two about how to make a phoenix. Alright?"

"Eight observable universes?"

"Yes. There are Eight observable universes and eight disobservable universes."

"Don't you mean unobservable."

"No, I mean disobservable. It will take too long to explain. Ask about something else."

As the mind can only seem to take so much nonsense before sanity yields, Trixie just switches off. Deciding it'd be best just to let it go and that it's too exhausting to kick and scream along with the conversation. With a sigh, she sits upright and looks around the room. Eventually, her swivelling points her towards the lump of clay in the centre of the room.

"What is that?"

With a whizz, Anonymous spins around to see the half humanoid sculpture and half pile of earth sitting there.

"Oh, that," his tone darkening, "Can't seem to work the golem thing out. I'm missing a key component."

"Do you know what it is?"

Anonymous nods. Then there's a silence. Trixie would hang on the edge of her seat if she were still on it, but instead holds her breath. Once again Anonymous' eyes seem to be looking at something but their real attention is somewhere else far beyond it.

"Well?" Trixie finally asks, unable to keep the peace any longer.

"A name."

Again there is a pause. More due to the fact that Trixie is dumbfounded by the simplicity of the issue. She was expecting a rare magical crystal, the soul from someone pure of heart, dragon's blood, or something mysterious and magical. But a name is as common as it gets.

"Do you need a special kind of name?"

"No, any name will work."

"What has a name got to do with a golem?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

Trixie shakes her head.

"Everything needs a name. A name is what binds you because nothing is ever really real without a name. Until then it's just a thing."

"Then... Why haven't you given him one?"

"Can't think of a good one," shrugs Anonymous.

"What about... Clay?"

"Clay? What kind of a dreadful name is--Well, you've gone and done it now."

Blue eyes like distant stars turn on in the golem's ceramic skull. The heap of clay at the base compacts and moves about as if every grain has a mind of its own and has democratically decided on a shape. The arms grow into a bulk, the chest becomes stockier and hunched, making the legs look short and stumpy in comparison to the upper half. Clay's face is featureless, save for the holes where its glowing eyes reside but it very clearly stares at the two occupants in the room.

"Hmm, I forgot the mouth."

"Do you have a quill and paper?"

"Somewhere. Look, I best deal with this. I'll need you to go back to school and come back when you've got time."

"What? You're trying to hatch a phoenix and you just made a golem come to life and now you want me to go back to school?" Trixie protests, her voice squeaking during the higher notes.

"Yes, that sounds like a good explanation of the current situation."

"I can't! This is going to be murder on me all day tomorrow. I need to know!"

"I am sure. But it's late," Anonymous scoops Trixie up under her arm and carries her out of his tower.

Trixie kicks, flails, protests, and even tries biting a few times but once she is placed on the ground outside all the fight leaves her. She does have a large and tempting voice in her head saying to sneak a peek in a window. But another, and sadly more rational voice, appears to say Anonymous would know right away and send her back anyway.

Trixie knows a Trick

It's lunchtime. Trixie grabs a few things from the cafeteria and then looks around for a seat. Usually, there are a few tables free but for whatever reason, every student seems to be here. There's only one table that is mostly free, as a lone filly sits at it with a deck of cards playing some game by themselves.

"Is it okay if I sit here?"

The purple filly nods as she stares at her cards while shovelling some food into her mouth. Trixie watches for a little bit out of curiosity but gives up when she can't immediately guess what it is. It seems like a simple enough game though. Instead, Trixie grabs out her tome and jots down some notes and recollections of Anonymous' ramblings to decipher in a moment. This seems to be the books main purpose now. While a few pages are dedicated to spells and things. But the more interesting queries on Trixie's mind is what Anonymous is talking about.

She thinks back to the intuition lesson. Understanding that a little better helped her work out the fire magic. That was a spell she never managed to do on her own or with her teacher's help.

"What was that thing about not knowing what the universe won't allow?" She thinks to herself as she chews idly.

Then she shakes her head. That sort of thing would be an immensely high-level magic for anyone. No sense decoding that. Yes, universe tampering would have to wait for now.

"My masticating isn't bothering you, is it?"

"Hm? Oh," replies Trixie after a pause as she thinks of a similar sounding word then suddenly remembers herself, "No, I hadn't noticed."

The purple filly nods, content with their current interaction and goes back to her cards.

While Trixie does remark that the unicorn is a little odd, she agrees with herself on the fact that everyone is a little odd. In their own ways. And then she returns to her deep contemplation.

"I wonder what sort of magic is possible?" She mumbles so lowly to herself anyone around her would swear she said nothing at all.

As Trixie writes down a few ideas like teleportation and time travel, the filly across from her steals a glance then raises a brow.

"Would you like to play cards?"

"Ah... I, uh, don't know any card games."

"I see," she replies in a dejected voice.

"I know a card trick though," Trixie mostly lies.

"Wow."

She scoops all the cards up and passes them to Trixie who begins to shuffle rather clumsily. As she repeats the basic process she gets a better grip on it and speeds up.

"Right. Now, pick a card," Trixie tells her as she spreads all the cards out like a fan.

The filly grabs one.

"Don't show it to me, but hold onto it."

She nods as Trixie shuffles the deck some more. Then Trixie focuses on the trick. She wants to swap that card in her hooves with a card in the deck. Just a small teleportation swap. Simple is what she kept telling herself.

If you were to ask any teacher, any pony who knew anything about magic, and most students then they would tell you that going from a fire spell to teleportation is too big of a leap for anyone. No matter how gifted, smart, or powerful they might be. And they are right. Somewhere in between fire and teleportation is a multiply spell. Which is what Trixie cast by accident. In an instant, the single jack of clubs in the filly's grip becomes two. Then three, and so on. There are so many in such an instant that they sprayed out, many hitting the poor filly in the face who screams as she is knocked off her seat. The spell stopped at around four thousand and thirty-seven, but Trixie didn't want to stick around to count or even clean up.

All the student around laughed. They laughed at the dizzy purple unicorn on the ground, covered in playing cards and they laughed at Trixie who was now a bright Rosey red. The blush had spread so far, Trixie could swear it spread all the way to her flank. During her hasty escape, Trixie hits her left forehoof on a table. She lets out an instinctive yelp despite it not actually hurting, which causes everyone to laugh even harder as she disappears.

"And that's why I'm here," Trixie adds as she looks up to the giant golem as he sluggishly watered the flowers.

"I know I shouldn't skip school... But it's just one lesson. That's okay, right?"

Clay slowly looked at her, then returned to looking at the flowers. He tilted the watering can that was dwarfed by his Giants shovel-like fists but no water came.

"Oh, here. I'll fill that up."

Trixie takes the watering can and dips it into the ever full fountain. You could add water to it, or take as much as you wanted out and it would always be at the same level. The strange fish look up at her as she looks at them.

"Here you go."

The silent golem nods, his best attempt at thanks, as he takes the can into his softened clay grip and begins watering again. Apparently, he has to stay soft. If Anonymous hardened the clay, he'd never be able to move. Which also means he is rather vulnerable to many things. He can't stay out in the sun for too long, Clay needs to check on his own shape every day, and he has developed a fear of water after losing a hand to the tap in the kitchen sink. A sense of dread fills Trixie as she imagines Clay getting caught in the rain. Maybe she should install an umbrella on his back just in case.

"Do you like gardening?" Trixie asks out of boredom.

Clay can't talk, so trying to get to know him is a little pointless. But Anonymous is busy with a couple things at the moment so chatting to the silent living earth is all she has to do. Well, she could snoop around but Trixie feels she has caused enough trouble for one day.

"Maybe tomorrow," plots Trixie to herself.

Clay reaches down and plucks one of the pinky-purple flowers to show Trixie.

"The flowers? You like the flowers?"

Clay nods.

"Oh... Fair enough," idly replies Trixie as she swings her legs about on the seat, "You shouldn't pluck them though. If you do, they'll wither and die. You need to leave them in the soil so they stay pretty for longer."

The golem brings the flower closer to his face and seems to stare at it. His expressionless face is impossible to read. As far as Trixie is aware; he could have stalled, be lost in deep thought, or be under immense emotional trauma and it would look the same to her. Part of this distresses her. But then Anonymous calls out.

Growing Up

"What will you be teaching me today?"

As he spins around Trixie notices his left hand has been bandaged up. It's not hard to imagine some experiment gone wrong or him dropping something on it while not paying attention. Likely off in another universe while under a teetering anvil and forgetting to bring his body with him.

"We're going to do some gardening," Anonymous replies nonchalantly.

"Don't you have clay doing that?"

"Yes, but he ruined a few of my plants. Plus, I'd like to try and get you to make your own."

"My own... Plant?"

Anonymous nods.

"What can I get it to do? Like can I make it a poisonous flower? Or maybe one that makes people sneeze? Or it eats really rotten ponies?"

"Well, that depends on you I suppose," Anonymous nervously chuckles.

With a giddy glee and pleased pounce, Trixie skips outdoors where Clay has finished his work and sits in the shade. A few birds and Grandma Poss have taken up refuge on the heap of mobile soil and all watch Anonymous and Trixie.

"Right, well, first things first. A demonstration I think."

Anonymous grabs a few small bags of seed. There's a large variety of flowers that he sets down on the outdoor table, each packet with a picture of the fully grown flower on it.

"Now, in order to make your flower, we need to combine a few seeds. This will be rather difficult for you to do, so I'll do it. You're going to try making it grow once we plant it. So choose at least... say... Three flowers? Yes, at least."

The wizard takes a seat, grunting something about his back as he does, and strokes his beard as Trixie looks over all the different flowers.

"Is there a maximum?"

"Hmm... No more than... Ten, I suppose. It gets messy if there are any more than that."

A few of the plants even have effects written on them. Sleeping aid, dreamless nights, and incontinence. Though the latter makes no mention whether it causes or cures. But every colour and shape imaginable seems to be here.

"No-laan-ah So-lan-ah-ke-ah-e? kea-e? Ki-ae?

"Nolana Solanaceae. If you look under the Latin there are the more commonly known names."

"Nightshade? Well, obviously some of that."

"What about a pretty rose?"

Trixie looks back at him with an unimpressed stare is if he said something painfully droll.

"Yes, I didn't think so," Anonymous chuckles.

"Blue rose? There are blue ones? I thought they were just red and white."

"Oh, they come in a variety of colours. All meaning different things, like, the blue is meant to mean something like the impossible, or immortality."

"Blue roses are immortal?"

"No, it's just some rubbish that poets prescribe to the blasted things. I'm a scholar, not a poet. If you ask me, if there were fewer poets in the world then language wouldn't be so complicated."

Trixie just nods, Anonymous' words mostly flowing in one ear and out the other as he continues to ramble on about poetry. As Trixie was one of those straight shooters and boyish types, she'll never admit it, but she liked poetry. There is something nice about being able to paint with words. But that's a secret that only her and a few very well hidden books in her room know about. Stealthily, she pushes a blue rose seed over to the pile she is making.

"Chamomile?" Trixie shrugs as she sifts through the flowers, "Moonflower, Borage, and Honeysuckle. That should do it."

Before Trixie can say another word, Anonymous appears behind her and scoops the seeds she chose into his hand. His grip closes and tightens as it glows dimly. Before long, Anonymous unfurls his hand to reveal a single seed.

"And what do you call it?"

"That's it? I was kind of expecting a little more show--"

"Trixie, name it."

"Uh... Can I stall for time?" Trixie asks when she draws a blank.

Anonymous just patiently holds out the seed in front of her as he waits. Trixie runs through various names, like Lulamoonflower, but they all have an odd sound to them or just don't seem the right fit.

"How about you name it once it grows then?"

Trixie nods. Then Anonymous grabs a ceramic pot and shovels a bit of dirt with his hand in it. The little seed is dropped on top of the soil before being pushed gently beneath with his index finger.

"Now, you need to grow it."

"How do I do that?"

"Intuition. Simple stuff."

Trixie rolls her eyes.

"You should know this by now Trixie. Just use your magic with the intent of making this grow. Think of sun, water, and life. Make it take root," instructs Anonymous in a passionate voice.

Focusing hard on the sun, trees, plants, water, and healthy soil, Trixie tries to channel all her magical being into the seed resting in the dirt. She holds her focus until she is blue in the face, more blue than usual that is, then she gives up.

"You're quitting too early and taking too long to cast the spell," chastises Anonymous.

"Anon, that's a contradiction."

He gets up from his seat then once Trixie's words reach his ears, Anon steps back in a state of ecstatic shock.

"You called me Anon," he beams.

"So?"

"Well, it means you're getting familiar with me."

"No, I'm not."

"Oh, don't try to spoil this for me now. I like it. Anon. A nickname."

The overly pleased wizard squats down and pats Trixie on the withers in an overly friendly display of companionship. Trixie shrugs him off, so he tussles her mane a little.

"Quit it."

"Say it again," his smile growing wider.

"Nope."

"If you do, I'll tell you how to make the plant grow," Anon says in a sing-song tune.

Ugh... Anon."

Like a greedy child at the carnival that just the got the super-dooper sized fairy floss they screamed for, Anon claps and cheers to himself before composing himself to return back to the teacher role he is supposed to be playing.

"Right," he declares as he clasps his hands together, "Let me guess. You were thinking of the flower, yes?"

"How else am I going to make it grow?" asks Trixie dismissively.

"You're trying to take the easy way," Anon grabs a seed from the 'Stargazer' packet and places it inside a small bit of dirt in his hand.

"Intuition IS the easy way. You said that."

"No, it is your way. I never said it'd be easy."

"I like the easy way, anyway that is mine has to be the easy way."

Anon shakes his head as he holds out his hand, "You don't believe that. Otherwise, you would be studying in your spare time and you wouldn't trek all the way out here for me. There is an easy way, and there is the right way."

The little seedling in his hand begins to sprout roots that spread beyond the small offering of dirt in Anon's coarse and wizened hand. Then the seedling splits and produces a small green pole that steadily grows a leaf. The size grows and grows until the stem is firm where a bud creeps from the top and eventually blooms. It unfurls its white petals to expose the deeper pink and nectar strands within.

"Every living thing starts at the beginning. And just like anything else, if this flower skipped a few steps in its growth, it would come out wrong. It would be a warped and twisted reminder of what it failed to become. Do you understand what I'm trying to tell you?"

Trixie warily nods, not entirely sure. If it's the lesson, she definitely gets it's. She can't make the flower bloom because everything else is missing. But something about his eyes that look like they are reading her every thought seems to suggest he wants something more than that. She finds herself avoiding eye contact, choosing to stare at the pot where her seed resides.

"I hope you do," Anon remarks, his face creasing into a worrisome look.

With a widened stance and a better grasp of the process, Trixie focuses on her seed. She pictures it in her mind, just a touch out of reach and imagines a small root tendril reaching out. It worms it's way downwards in the soil as that's where the water is. She uses the root's own thirst to drive it until it has a bearing.

"Feeling okay?"

The sudden break in Trixie's concentration causes her to take a deep breath, like as if she were drowning and only just came up for air. Her face feels tingly as the feeling returns. And then the light-headedness hits. Trixie teeters and wobbles for a moment as she tries to brace herself, her centre of gravity is as stable as a spinning top.

"I get that you're eager. But don't put too much too fast," warns Anon.

Trixie takes a deep breath and focuses once again. Now she is determined. A sense of being underestimated drives her, challenges her, and scares her into putting everything into it. She feels the seedling and its roots once again then drives her mind further. A burning sensation can be felt from her horn and Trixie fills her entire consciousness with the seedling. The stem bursts from the soil and unfurls its leaves towards the sun to bathe in the glow. The plant's air is Trixie's air and her body runs on auto-pilot.

"Almost," she grunts under the pressure.

A little bud sprouts from the top of the stem and now Trixie's face is turning a shade of purple. Her head thunders as it tries to call her back. With a quick but deep gasp for air, Trixie pulls back once again. Now she notices the toll her body is under as the adrenaline quickly fades. Her knees quiver, sweat pours from her forehead, and a nauseating burn rises in her throat. It feels more like her body is ill.

"Please don't push that much again," Anon's sombre voice breaks through the ringing in Trixie's ears, "Here. Have some ice-cream."

Content to have something cool near her, Trixie greedily eats the bowl's contents.

"I almost did it," she pants.

"What do you mean? You did do it," Anon points to the flower bud that is now slowly spreading open.

The blue petals push forward into a wizard's hat-like shape with little yellow dots that look like stars if you look closely enough.

"You know, I'm beginning to see a tread with you."

Trixie chuckles a little.

"Well, what are you going to call it?"

"Oh, right?" recalls Trixie as her breath has still yet to catch up with her.

"Wizard's cap?"

Anon nods.

"I know you're tired. Look, you get some rest," Anon says as Trixie's head bops up and down as she tries to stay in the land of the awake, "I'll get you back to school."

Try, Try Again

"Miss Lulamoon," calls a bland, authorive voice from beyond Trixie's bedroom door.

With a laggy slump, she rolls out of bed and shuffles over. The door opens to reveal Professor Inkwell. She towers over Trixie, her nose raised as she scans the room. Unable to find whatever she was looking for, her gaze falls to Trixie with a deep and seething anger hidden behind it. It's rather amazing the Professor is able to compose herself with such a temper boiling up, but the school hasn't earned such a sensible reputation for nothing.

"I believe you have some explaining to do about yesterday afternoon, yes?"

Trixie nods. Like a puppy who got caught, her ears and head hang low in the silence. Then she realises the Professor is waiting for that explanation now.

"Uh, to be perfectly honest ma'am... I don't really have one. Everyone was laughing at me and I sort of... Just ran off."

Inkwell sighs, "I'm sure you under a bit of stress from your studies, however, you must not let that affect your schooling. Am I clear?"

"It's not," Trixie stammers defensively.

"Oh?"

"They had nothing to do with me running off."

"Then what?"

"I--"

Trixie suffocates her own voice as the fear shrinks her. Now she feels smaller than a bug and almost wished to shrink further until she disappeared.

"Is everything okay?"

Trixie shakes her head. Then Inkwell seems to catch on. At least in part. She pushes past Trixie to grab a quill and parchment.

"Here, it might be easier to write it," she says in a tone that, while hadn't lost its usual stoic-ness, was comforting.

Unsure what to do, Trixie wrote Rotten Apple and Floribunda's name. A brow on Professor Inkwell's face raises as the rest of her face hardened.

"Have they... Been picking on you?"

Trixie nods.

"Very well, I shall handle it this instant," the fire in her eyes reigniting as a new target appears.

"No," bellows Trixie as both Inkwell and she feel a bit of shock at the outburst, "I want to... I want to do it. That's why I've been working hard. They call me blank flank, call me stupid, but I want to show them. Ma'am, my lessons are going great. Just a little more and I can prove them wrong."

Professor Inkwell's expression turns to stone as she evaluates Trixie. Her eyes remind Trixie of another set of eyes. Eyes that seem to be reading her thoughts, that evaluate every fibre of your being, and know exactly what to do next.

"Very well," she finally utters with a bit of hesitation, "But I will not allow it to carry on much longer. If there no improvement in your skills by the end of the week, I shall step in."

"You'll see ma'am--"

"No, I will not. As a teacher of this establishment, I am required to put a stop to this. I am not permitted to give you as many liberties as I have. But there are special... Circumstances. Tell Anonymous you want to take the exam by the end of the week. He will understand."

Then without another word or even a change for Trixie to get one in herself, Inkwell walks off.

As soon as school finishes, Trixie darts for Anon's place. Her hooves hit the ground hard in order to make as much progress as possible, not even a lack of air slows her down. So when she arrives on the doorstep, the dizziness catches her. Heavy panting attracts the golem, Clay, who places a soft hand on Trixie's back. Likely he is trying to be comforting, though he ends up getting clay soil in her mane. Trixie doesn't mind too much. There's something about Clay that makes Trixie think of a living doll. It's hard for any child to get angry at a living toy.

Clay's earthen face looks at her, expressionless as she finally gets air into her lungs. Then she notices a bunch of blue flowers on Clay's back. They look a little like wizard caps. Just like the one Trixie free yesterday.

"Clay, are those... My flowers?"

A great sluggish arm lumbers upwards to pluck on then carefully placed it behind Trixie's mane.

"Aren't you sweet," she remarks as her heart swells with flattery.

She never did have a chance to admire them. Let alone look at them. One moment she was focusing on her magic, then she woke up in school. Now she was able to look at them in the light as they away in a gentle breeze on the golem's back. In an odd way, Trixie feels they suit being up there.

Then an explosion comes from inside.

"Anon?" A panicked squeak manages to come from Trixie.

Clay straightens up and moves around the back at a pace that is quick for him but still rather slow. The ground still shakes as the golem slams his oak tree trunk sized legs on the ground. Trixie goes through the door and runs over the other side of Anon's main room to find one wall is covered in a black soot. Two eyes appear from the ashes then spectate from the rest of the room.

"What was that?!" Anon's voice shouts from the walking charcoal.

"What did you do?" Trixie sighs with relief, doing her best to make it sound like an exasperated sigh.

Clay appears from the back door, the doorway being much larger, and begins to dust Anon off.

"Yes, yes. Thank you, Clay. I had a bit of an... Oversight."

On the table is, beneath all the ash, flutters a small red bird. It tries to give a squawk but only manages a suffocated squeak. The little baby bird looks at Trixie, tilts its head and then tries to come towards her. Once it reaches the end of the table it looks down, unsure of how to traverse the fall.

"Woah," Trixie stammers as she pushes the little bird away from the edge.

It gives a little ruffle of its feathers but accepts its place.

"I think I fed him too much at once," Anon says as he returns to his seat, "Watch out for phoenix burps, I'm telling you that now."

He chuckles and starts putting away all the utensils he was using. Those eyes watch Trixie as she stares at the bird. Only in the furthest corner of her eye does she notice the stare, then she looks at the Phoenix again.

"Arcturus?"

"What?"

"As a name?"

"Well, I thought I'd give it a go," Anon guffaws, "But this is probably better. I like it. Where did you get that one?"

"It's a star, a red giant I think."

Anon nods, "Not so great at magic, but you're good at astrology?"

"Astronomy."

"That's what I said," he immediately replies as he brushes a few crumbs out of his beard.

Trixie shakes her head, not interested in arguing.

"I'm not that good at it... Professor Inkwell," Trixie's heart sinks at the name, "Says it's important for magic, so I tried studying it a lot to get better."

"What rubbish. How is a great big ball of screaming fire a way's away going to help you with magic?"

"Screaming? Stars don't scream," Trixie remarks, taking the bait.

"Oh? Have you used a telescope before?"

Trixie nods firmly. Determined not to let this one slide.

"And did it come with sound?"

Trixie opens her mouth then lets it hang there for a moment as she thinks. She wants to argue this. Every fibre of her being is screaming that he is wrong and not every bit of Anon's ridiculousness can be let go. But her head tells her that she hasn't got a shred of evidence. Trixie closes her mouth and concedes.

"I didn't become a powerful wizard by just ignoring the plight of stars."

"Why do they scream then?"

"They are on fire, and the gas smells dreadful."

Trixie takes a seat where she stands as she tries to work out another question that will lead him to trip up. But when no such question comes to mind, she groans and falls backwards.

"So... When are going to tell me what's wrong?"

"How did--" Trixie lifts her heads and catches Anon's watchful eyes. She decides against finishing the question, guessing she'd likely end up with a boast. "Professor Inkwell came to check on me today."

"Oh, boy. What does miss fussy cakes want?"

Trixie snickers, forgetting her glum mood for the slightest moment before her face hardens when she continues speaking.

"She says I need to show improvement by the end of the week."

"Oh," Anon raises one brow and furrows the other, "and if you don't?"

"She'll step in and... Stop Rotten Apple and Floribunda's bullying."

Trixie a voice trails off a little as she realises how ridiculous that sentence sounds. She had been so disheartened that she hadn't taken any time to step back and look at how odd the situation is.

"And... This is... Bad?"

"I told her I wanted to sort the problem out myself," she groans.

"So you've got a plan?"

"No," Trixie groans again, this time drawing it out for a time.

Anon begins stroking his beard, as always when he thinks. While the wizardly human gets lost in deep contemplation, Trixie rolls about with a few grunts and groans. Her hooves flail about, and her face drags on the floor. Trixie isn't entirely sure herself what she is doing, but she has never been sure of anything else she does either.

"What about..."

"Yes?" Replies Trixie eager to outsource her thinking and plotting.

"What about a duel? You'll need to organise it to be behind a building or faculty where the teachers won't think to look. But... Yes, I believe that'd work."

"Like a magic duel? Anon... You have noticed how bad I am at magic, right?"

"Nonsense. You've got the method down perfectly. A natural if I do say so myself. It's just practice you need, the rest will come after."

There's something about the way Anon talks. No matter what he says, especially the silly and over the top nonsense, he says it with such a conviction that Trixie finds hard to doubt. And if Anon thinks Trixie can do it, then why can't she? Still, there's still a high level of nerves that rock Trixie about but there's less than if this idea was her own.

"Are you sure you should encourage that, shouldn't you tell me to do something... I don't know, admirable?"

"No, no. I'm far too immature for that. Come on, let's practice for a duel," Anon gleefully beams.

Taking a Stance

"Okay Trixie," says Trixie's own voice in her head in a hearty attempt to be reassuring, "You can do this. This is one of the hardest things you will do, but you're going to pretend otherwise. Take Anon's approach. Tell everyone how wise and strong you are until they believe it."

Trixie skulks through the school halls, carefully looking around each corner before stepping out. Any minute now, Rotten Apple and Floribunda will appear to give Trixie a hard time. She and Anon went through so many details, possiblities, and scenarios until you could decide the best one. The dunderhead duo won't be able to help themselves, especially if Trixie looks like she is trying to avoid trouble.

As she makes the third circle around the hall, she decides to try Anon's idea. He was adamant about it but Trixie didn't see how it'd work. She went to her locker, opened it up, and pretended to root around. Then, once she closed the door she saw Rotten Apple's toothy grin appear. The sudden surprise causes Trixie to help. Which makes Rotten smile wider, then from behind him appears Floribunda who looks down her nose at Trixie. Trixie makes a mental note to kick Anon for being right.

"Well, Trixie. What are you up to?"

"Go away," Trixie jeers before poking out her tongue.

Rotten Apple's smile turns into a grimace before reverting back. A big part of Trixie feels impatient, it urges her to just cut straight to the challenge. She takes a sharp breath and hardened her commitment to the plan.

"That's not very nice," Rotten Apple says as he turns back to Floribunda for the usual parroting opinion.

"I'm not in the mood for this today."

Trixie tries to squeeze past the already cramped space between Rotten and the lockers. So, as one would expect, Rotten Apple blocks the way.

"What has got you in such a sour mood? Was it Professor Inkwell?"

She shoots a quick scathing glance up at him. Internally, Trixie pats herself on the back. If there was a drama class in this school, it'd be her best class. This whole scene is taking a mental fortitude Trixie didn't know she had, having the ability to look so angry while not laughing right in Rotten Apple and Floribunda's face for taking this bait so easily.

"No," Trixie retorts defiantly.

"I heard you were going to get kicked out soon," Floribunda adds from behind Rotten Apple, "They're probably ashamed to have let a unicorn of your ability in."

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh?" Rotten Apple pushes, believing they're onto something, "So how did you get in this school then? You're useless at magic after all, so what was the trick?"

"I performed magic the likes of which you'll never see in a million years," Trixie brags.

The two look at each other and laugh.

"Don't believe me? I'll prove it. In a duel."

"A duel? With you?" Floribunda jeers.

"Get real Trixie."

"Scared?"

Trixie paces back and forth behind the school gym. Emotions rock back and forth inside her with the force of a tsunami. She did it. She reminds herself over and over with a giddy pride that she goaded Rotten Apple into this duel and he never suspected a thing. But then, she reminds herself she is about to duel Rotten Apple. It's pretty much a consensus among the students that Rotten Apple is the strongest unicorn there. Obviously not counting the adults. Rotten is smart, sly, strong and harsher than any other. Even if he's not the best at everything, they're all too scared to find out. Then there is Floribunda who capable in her own way. It adds to his atmosphere. He has free reign to mess with whoever he pleases.

"Until today," Trixie tells herself to try and cling to whatever confidence she has.

Like a wave of adrenaline, the belief in herself has been fading. Any attempt to build herself up is met with an equally effective strike in knocking herself down. And Trixie remarks to herself, that she has never been so scared before. Floribunda and Rotten Apple were wandering around the school to tell people they know won't dob on them to the teachers. Because those like Rotten Apple get a rush from an audience. Then the chattering of student reveals their approach.

"I'm surprised you were here," sneers Floribunda.

"Let's get this over with."

"So eager?" Rotten Apple curiously replies.

The two unicorns take a stance at opposite ends each other as onlookers take up a position on the sides, leaving the area behind the duelists free in case of stray magic.

"Ladies first," snorts Rotten.

With a great ease, Trixie whirls up a little light with wings with a warm blue glow. The little wisp flutters about, small bits of glitter fall from its wings like a kind of pixie dust. A few of the girls from the crowd can be heard remarking how cute it is or gasping as they call out "fairy."

A red bolt fires from Rotten Apple right at the tiny ball of light. The light of the magic envelops and morhps it. The shape is stretched and pulled, twisted and compressed as the texture turns wooden. Slowly the fairy creature is changed into a small trebuchet that launches a rock at Trixie.

Without hesitation, Trixie shoots a bolt and turns the rock into a seed that then sprouts into the same flower Trixie grew with Anon's help.

The stare between them intensifies. They glare, almost daring the other to blink first. Then without warning, Rotten Apple takes his turn. The flower freezes over, the ice seems to continue growing and growing in size as it takes the shape of Rotten Apple. The likeness is mediocre. If it weren't for him standing near it, then you'd likely never guess it was him proudly beaming down on Trixie with his usual arrogance. Still, this is impressive magic to a bunch of novices so a series of ooh's and ah's echo from the audience. Which only inflates Rotten Apple's ego.

"Come on blank flank, what else have you got?"

Thinking of hot and fiery thoughts, Trixie immolates the ice sculpture's face to make disfigure ice Rotten Apple's face. His gaw falls slack with what looks like a tongue hanging out, an eye has closed, and his unicorn horn has sagged like a wet sausage.

The gathering of students laugh. Loudly. And it smacks the smirk right off Rotten. He glares at Trixie who is laughing at her own handiwork.

"Enough," bellows Rotten as he shatters the sculpture.

"There is no need be upset," Trixie smiles warmly, doing her absolute best to seem as friendly and genuine as possible.

Rotten's teeth grind as the laughter continues. Then in a red haze, he fires a bolt at Trixie's feet. She is quick enough to raise her hoof in time to miss it but the now smoking spot still does a bit of damage, if only morally. Trixie looks into the eyes of her opponent to see him ready to fire another, and then makes what she can only think of as the wisest decision, and runs.

"Get back here," howls Rotten.

He fires two more bolts, easily dodged with a zig-zag maneuver as Trixie refuses to look anywhere that isn't over her shoulder. The scene she finds herself glued to is like a rabid dog after smaller prey, only without the foaming mouth. This spurs her little legs to hit the ground harder and faster than she ever has before. Then after a few more lengths, she decides she must tear her eyes away and look forward. Which turns to be just in time as the school walls get closer.

"What are you doing?" Trixie mumbles to herself as she whirs around and lets loose her own magic as Rotten hurls his.

The two bits of magic collide and cause a huge knockback effect. Rotten Apple is sent sliding back for metres on end, tearing up the grass as he goes while Trixie is slammed into the wall. The effect winds her. Her lungs scream for air and her throat feels drier than if she were in a desert. When she tries to speak, all that comes out if a suffocated gasp, though she has no idea what she would say. Looking up, Rotten Apple is still motionless for a moment before he begins to steadily rise and all the students are rushing over to see.

"What is going on here?" Shrieks what can only be a teacher off in the distance.

Trixie gives up and makes a break for it. She rushes past Rotten as he gets to his feet just in time to dart through the mass of fillies and out the other side. She doesn't slow down either. As Rotten Apple tries to find out where in the crowd she is, Trixie heads towards the Witching Thicket.

Great and Powerful

"ANON!"

As if he were summoned, Anon opens the door with a cup of tea in hand.

"Why hello Trixie, come on in."

She blazes past him and takes a seat at the table. Anon closes the door and shuffles about as he pulls a second cup of tea from somewhere for Trixie. Eagerly, she drinks the warm mug as Anon takes his seat opposite her.

"You're looking a right mess," he smiles.

"I ran, and a--"

One of Anon's fingers shoots up to silence Trixie.

"My day has been quite nice. I let a few of the creatures go for a frolick in the forest, Clay is--"

"Who cares about that? I'm trying to tell you--"

"Yes, and we shall get to that. There is such thing as manners."

Trixie groans and slams her head on the table. The adrenaline has definitely worn off now as the soles of her hooves cry and whimper in pain, her breathing is erratic as her lungs still haven't quite inflated after being winded, and her energy levels have plummeted now that she has stopped moving. Anon's hand stretches out and comfortingly pets Trixie's mane.

"Relax, I know what happened?"

"You were there?" wearily asks Trixie.

Anon shakes his head, "No, but I see all and know all... Well, sure, there was more I could have done to ensure it all went smoothly but ultimately your choices must be your own."

"Oh, yeah?" Trixie remarks in disbelief, "What will happen tomorrow then?"

"You mean with Rotten Apple and Floribunda? They'll leave you alone, so long as you don't act scared around them anymore. None of the students told the teacher what happened, they all said there was a mishap during a magic demonstration. Amazing what happens to good-natured little kiddies when they think they'll get in trouble otherwise."

"Yeah right, they have always picked on me."

Trixie slumps her head into her forehooves, hoping this could somehow shield her from the world. While she knows this thinking is silly, all she finds herself wanting is a small bit of respite from having to exist.

"Yes, because they thought you talentless. An easy target due to your blank flank. Rotten Apple is nothing more than a slimy little toad who is too scared to step on anything bigger than an ant. Today you showed that you can and will defend yourself. And I'm sure the suspicions of the faculty's watchful eye will help keep it that way."

With a hearty smile, Anon finishes his tea then takes both mugs into the next room. Trixie's spirits falter a little. She finds herself wanting to believe his words, yet somehow unable to.

"Are you sure?"

"I promise," he calls back.

This seems to do the trick. Trixie's head rises from the table as a smile returns to her face.

"One day you will be a great and powerful magic user. A real show-starter."

"You mean stopper?"

"What?"

"The expression is show-stopper."

"What's so great about stopping a show? Any dog fart can do that."

Trixie muffles a laugh that Anon joins in on which leads to the two laughing happily together. The bellies quake from the giggling, and water wells up in their eyes. Anon slaps his spindly knee in all the commotion and soon after the laughter dies.

"Still," Anon continues as he wipes away a tear, "Wish I could have seen it. Could have been a good test of your progress."

"Well... I could show you now?"

"Like a show?" The wizard over-excitedly beams.

"Uh, sure?"

Anon darts to his feet and slings Trixie under one arm to carry her outside.

"Eclair-derriere, where's my chair?" he says in a booming mystic voice with a twinkle of his fingers.

Out of nowhere arrives a faded striped recliner chair. The fabric of the thing is a little spotty, worn, and in some places torn. But Anon is content as he places Trixie down and takes his seat. Then he immediately shoots back up.

"Oh, an outfit. Every showman, or showwoman, needs an outfit," he thinks aloud.

Then after what seems like much deliberation, he takes a blue gem from out of his pocket and presses it to Trixie's chest. A ray of purple light streams backwards to bring a purple cape into existence. And then he clicks his fingers to summon a mirror for Trixie to admire her new attire. Yellow and blue stars, moons, planets, and suns dot the cape to make it look just like Anon's robes. She can see him behind her in the reflection smiling at her, then he seems to think some more.

"Well, we have to, don't we? Otherwise, this just won't look right," he thinks aloud once more before placing his pointy wizard cap on her head.

Looking at her reflection, Trixie faintly smiles. The blush on her cheeks makes splendid work to try and hide her features. Then she tilts her head forward, knocking the wizard cap down to cover her face.

"Now, wow me," he happily states as he sits back in his chair.

Trixie nervously shuffles her feet and tries to think. Only her mind draws a blank as she looks at Anon's expectant face. Then without warning, an idea stirs.

"I AM THE WISE AND POWERFUL ANON," Trixie booms in a poor impersonation of the wizard.

"Ah, excellent," claps Anon.

"WHEN I, ANON, AM HERE THEN ALL IS SAFE FROM DOOM AND GLOOM. I CAN PERFORM GREAT MIRACLES, LIKE MAKING FLOWERS BLOOM."

Then with a wave of her hoof, a bouquet of Wizard's Cap flowers appears. With a bit of flair, she lops the flowers into the air which sail high then fall into Anon's waiting arms.

"SETTLE DOWN ONE AND ALL, FOR I, ANONYMOUS THE MAGNANIMOUS AND MUNIFICENT HAVE EVEN MORE TRICKS UP MY SLEEVE."

Trixie pulls on a tuft of skin with her magic on her hoof as if to show there is nothing up her imaginary sleeve. Then she flourishes the same hoof to reveal a deck of cards. All fifty-two cards float in the air and spread out, face down, between Trixie and Anon.

"PLEASE, PICK A CARD, MY GOOD SIR. THEN I SHALL NEED IT BACK."

Anon curiously raises a brow as he grabs one of the cards. He checks it then places it back where it was. The deck shuffles themselves in mid-air for a while, each time getting seemingly more and more complex then they spread out once again and turn over to reveal all fifty-two are the same.

"IS THIS YOUR CARD?"

Anon laughs hard at the reveal. His teeth can finally be seen behind that maze of hair that is his beard as he smiles wider and wider.

"AND LASTLY, WITCHES AND GENTLEWIZARDS, I SHALL PULL... A BIRD OUT OF THIS HAT!"

The wizard caps floats before Trixie so she can root around in there with one hoof. Then she puts on a display of difficulty, she puts in both hooves as she reaches around for something. Then when she seemingly can't find what she is after, she shoves her entire head inside. A muffled yep can be heard from inside the hat as Trixie falters backwards onto her flank just in time for Arcturus to fly up and off into the sky.

Anon leaps to his feet, clapping loudly. Then he looks around behind him and gives a gesture like flapping upwards. As he does more clapping can be heard from thin air. The clapping thunders over and over like an entire audience of adoring fans cheering her own. Trixie's chest swells with pride.

"Trixie, you have a real... Talent for that. You were great," he states with pride in his eyes.

"Thank you, I-I've never performed like that before."

"Really? How was it?"

"It was," Trixie pauses as she gives it some serious thought, "Kind of a rush."

"Fun?"

Trixie nods, "I think I could enjoy something like that."

"Then swear to me you'll do it more. I want you to keep performing, okay?"

"Okay," Trixie nods with a firm conviction.

"No-no! Swear it. A big one. There's powerful magic in swears."

"Like in names?" Trixie looks at him with disbelief.

Anon's face hardens, unamused by the constant doubt. Even just looking into his eyes, Trixie can tell Anon feels like she should understand something by now. And as her stare deepens, she thinks that there is something else there. Something behind his eyes trying to say something. But eventually, she closes her eyes and breaths deeply.

"I swear... I swear I will perform more."

"Ah, excellent," cheers Anon.

"Why are you so excited?" she laughs with an unsure smile.

"Well... Because," Anon seems to stall and avoid eye contact. He swings his arms about giving an air of uncomfortable that is impossible to ignore. Trixie's heart swells with nervousness in her chest, "I have to leave soon."

The words hit Trixie like a brick.

"W-What?"

"To be perfectly honest with you... Because I'm Anonymous."

"I don't... Understand, what? How? Why?"

The pain in Trixie's chest seeps into her words as a choke on every syllable. Her eyes well up as she tries to plead with Anon.

"This whole time, I was never really real," his tone falls to a soft apologetic voice as he tries to explain.

"But you were here. This house. All those days teaching me! How is that not real? I don't understand."

"Anonymous. It means nameless. And I did tell you, things without names are just that. Things," he shrugs.

"Fine, then I'll give you a name," Trixie pleads as she sniffles her nose, determined not to cry.

"Well," he pauses to give it some deep thought, "I thought splendiferous suited me well."

"Okay, you're splendiferous."

"Yeah... I kind of was, wasn't I?" He beams as he puffs out his chest to pose with a boastful pride.

"Let me guess, it's not a name either?"

"I'm sorry Trix, but things have to go this way."

"Will I ever see you again?"

"Of course. I'll be around whenever you ask for help. But in the meantime, look. You've got your cutie mark."

In a stunned amazement, Trixie whips her head around to see her cutie mark has indeed appeared. It looks like a wand with a star on it conjuring a trail of glittery magic. A magic cutie mark.

"My talent is magic?" She remarks to herself in shock.

Then when she looks back to where Anon was standing she finds him missing. And as she looks around she sees not even the tower, the magical flowers, Grandma Poss, or Clay is still there. At her hooves lies the tome and she is standing in the forest, alone.

Epilogue

Adoring fans clap and cheer in a fit of both wonder and amazement as Trixie steps into the backstage of her wagon. The show she put on was great. One of her finer performances yet. She gives herself a pat on the back as she puts her cape and wizard hat on the hooks for them. Then with a liberated sigh, she steps outside through the back door as the crowd at the front disperses.

A small filly then scurries around to the back to find Trixie.

"Miss Trixie," the unicorn cries out in a unique country style drawl.

"Yes, what can the Great and Powerful Trixie do for you," Trixie replies, taking careful consideration to roll her r's.

"My name is Liberty Belle, and I want to be a performing magician like you. I've still yet to get my cutie mark, but I hope I get a magic one just like you."

The filly beams as she looks up with idolisation towards Trixie. With a careful eye, Trixie examines the filly. Staring not just at her, but through her into something deeper. And then there a something stirs, as if calling, which leads her to smile at her next idea.

"Are you sure?"

The filly nods over-eagerly and Trixie tells her to wait a moment so she can step inside her wagon. There she roots around for a few things, trying to recall something long lost. All sorts of costumes, gifts, tools, and poor decision with money litter the wagon so it takes a moment before she uncovers a book labelled, 'Magic and its Magical Properties'. Trixie opens the book to find it completely blank. Where all those notes, drawings, and over scrawlings have disappeared too, Trixie is unsure but she knows of one possible explanation. The only page with something on it is the first.

THIS BOOK IS THE PROPERTY OF:
__________________________

Then she grabs an ink and quill as she walks outside, where the nervous but excited unicorn is waiting.

"Now, if you're serious about learning magic, then you'll need this."

As the book is handed to the filly, she opens it up and is immediately disheartened at the blank pages.

"It's a magic book," Trixie replies plainly to the now brightening Liberty Belle's face, "And without it, I would never have been the mare I am today. So, if you're sure this is what you need to do then when you're ready... Swear it. There's powerful magic in a swear, but until then, sign here."