Starlight Glimmer woke up to sunshine and songbirds... and a smile. Her own. A yawn, a stretch, and she pony-crawled out of her fluffy bed. A short trot across the residential wing of the Castle of Friendship, and she was soon taking a shower and freshening up for the day. Not long after, the mare stood before a mirror, levitating a brush that she used to fluff out the curls of her gorgeous mane.
The early morning was already buzzing with promise and excitement. Dawn's early light caught the luster of every square crystalline inch of the castle. Starlight Glimmer absorbed it all, then exhaled with a fuzzy, fuzzy grin. She stared into her reflection in the mirror, did a wink, and greeted herself.
“Trixe.”
The unicorn did a double take. Her smile fell loose to the floor, and a look of complete bewilderment took its cheeky place. With a furrowed brow, Starlight leaned forward, opened her muzzle slowly, and repeated her utterance.
“Trixe.”
One eyebrow arched curiously. She looked at her horn, her hooves, every wall of the bathroom, then back at the mirror once more. Again, she opened her muzzle, this time angling her vocal cords in an interrogative manner.
But all that came out was: “Trixe.”
Her tail flicked. Pastel nostrils flared in consternation.
Just then—the sound of beating wings. Scaled wings.
Brightening, Starlight telekinetically opened the bathroom door and rushed out into the nearby hallway. She looked left and right—then spotted the tiny figure of Spike fluttering towards the kitchen for a draconian breakfast.
Starlight Glimmer whistled.
The whelp paused in mid-flight. Pivoting around, he yawned cutely and waved a claw while smiling through heavy eyelids.
“Trixe,” he said.
“Trixe,” Starlight said back. She trotted briskly towards him, came to a stop, and stared the dragonling down. “Trixe.”
Spike blinked a few times, registering the phonetics still echoing off the lengths of the hallway. “Trixe.” His slitted eyes widened. “Trixe.” His wings went slack and he dropped to the floor, standing shakily on bird-toed feet. “Trixe.”
Starlight nodded slowly, watching as the situation registered across Spike's face. “Trixe.”
He grimaced.
She tongued the inside of her mouth. Her eyes darted left and right. Eventually, she motioned towards the library and began trotting.
Spike nodded emphatically and waddled after her.
Minutes later, the two sat on cushions beside enormous book cases. Both had a miniature chalkboard in their separate grips. They wrote discreetly with sticks of chalk—Starlight with her magic and Spike with his bare claw.
After both were done writing, they looked up at one another.
Starlight motioned for Spike to go first.
He obeyed, lifting up his chalkboard and turning it around. Across the black panel was one word in thick font: “Trixe.”
Starlight exhaled with a breath of disappointment. She looked at her own board with disdain before flipping it around to show Spike. On her panel, there was one word written over and over again in elegant cursive: “Trixe.”
Spike rubbed his chin in thought.
Starlight leaned back, stifling a moan of frustration. She spotted a lavender figure in her peripheral. Her ears perked, and she whistled for the alicorn. When that didn't summon her, she slapped her chalkboard repeatedly against the floor, making a rhythmic knocking sound. Spike joined her, and soon both produced a percussion that couldn't be ignored.
There was a scuffle of hooves. Then—from the adjacent hallway—Princess Twilight Sparkle entered the library. She had a book levitating in front of her, but she lowered it so she could stare quizzically at both Spike and Starlight.
Starlight waved. Spike hugged his chalkboard to his little dragon tummy. Both of them waited. Waited.
At last, Twilight gave in. She gave a shrug and chuckled through a confused smile. “Trixe.”
Starlight raised an eyebrow.
Twilight blinked at herself. Her eyes narrowed as she repeated: “Trixe.”
Spike craned his neck curiously.
“Trixe.” Twilight's eyes swam in circles. “Trixe.” Her tail flicked in frustration. “Trixe.”
Starlight whistled again.
Twilight looked up.
Starlight levitated her chalkboard. The same word was splattered across it—over and over again.
Spike cleared his throat and showed his board as well to Twilight.
Twilight rubbed her chin. She thought. She pondered. Then, with a bright flicker of epiphany across her eyes, she summoned a glow through her horn. A light-show manifested to her left, and magical letters arranged in the air of the library above her. But they only formed five infuriating letters:
“Trixe.”
Starlight dropped her chalkboard with a disgruntled sigh. Spike shrugged.
Twilight zapped the letters, then reformed them.
“Trixe.”
She gnashed her teeth, zapped the letters, and rebroadcasted the light-show once more.
“Trixe.”
Starlight shrugged.
Twilight shrugged back. “Trixe,” she tried saying, but merely groaned. “Trixe.” She gestured at Starlight to come closer.
Starlight Glimmer did as was beckoned.
Twilight opened the book she was levitating and pointed at it. “Trixe.”
Starlight leaned in, her fuzzy muzzle scrunching. “Trixe,” she said, head shaking. She pointed somberly at the open tome. “Trixe.”
Twilight pivoted the book around so she could see it. “Trixe,” she gasped in exclamation.
For all of a sudden, there was one word and one word only—repeating over and over again across all the pages.
“Trixe.”
Spike hopped up, gesturing. “Trixe.”
Both mares looked at her.
He held his claws out. The tone in his voice intensified. “Trixe.”
Twilight and Starlight looked confused.
The dragon whelp rolled his slitted eyes. At last, he squatted down on all fours and tilted his nose up haughtily. “Trixe.”
The two ponies exhaled, nodding in realization. After exchanging glances, Starlight led the way. Twilight and Spike soon followed.
The three made their way back to the residential wing of the castle. At last, they came to a set of doors emblazoned with the cutie mark of a magic wand swirling up blue pixie dust.
Starlight Glimmer knocked on the door.
“Trixe.”
There was no response.
She knocked again.
“Trixe.”
Again, silence.
Starlight looked back at Twilight and Spike.
The other two shrugged.
Starlight sighed, her eyes rolling. With a glow of magic, she masterfully unlocked the door from the outside and simply barged in.
“Trixe,” she growled, glaring angrily into the room. What she saw made her stop with a jolt. Twilight and Spike behind her likewise stumbled, gasping in shock.
On the floor of the room, a stupidly complicated rune had been laid out in manadust. A five-sided star criss-crossed elaborately within a circle, and between each space was a sigil marked by burning candles and incense. At each of the star's five points, there was a random yet vaguely familiar effect: a blue sorceress' cap, a starry robe, a magic wand, a black top hat, and a package of peanut butter crackers. Then there—in the very center of the star—there slumbered a fuzzy blue showmare, curled head to toe with a pleasant smile across her face as she snored the morning hours away.
But that wasn't even remotely the most alarming detail of the room.
Starlight, Twilight, and Spike blanched as they saw robed figures standing at five points around the circle. Hunched over. Chanting. Rhythmically slapping the bottoms of red crystalline staves into the ground.
Spike nervously hid behind Twilight as Starlight stomped her hooves and angrily shouted: “Trixe.”
The chanting stop. Several of the figures looked up. Dust-laden horse skulls peeked out from beneath their crimson hoods.
Twilight gasped. “Trixe.”
The commotion reached a fever pitch. Enough to wake the poor victim sleeping in the center of the pentagram. Trixie stirred, yawned, and looked up. The first thing she saw was her friends, and she smiled sleepily.
“Trixe.”
The showmare blinked. Her eyes caught sight of the runes etched into the floor all around her.
“Trixe.”
She then saw the figures, and a rising panic rippled through her shivering blue figure.
“Trixe.”
The cultists resumed chanting. An eerie red light billowed throughout the room. Trixie's body started to levitate, and she hoofy-kicked at the air in abject terror, helpless to pierce the crimson bubble that was forcefully lifting her.
“Trixe.”
“Trixe,” Starlight said and charged forward, horn aimed straight ahead like a lance.
Twilight also galloped into the fray. “Trixe,” she shouted, and began zapping the closest cultist to her.
The skeletal invader produced a magical shield in front of him, deflecting the Princess of Friendship's shots. He raised his staff in time to block her advance. Meanwhile, the other figures fended off Starlight to the best of their ability.
“Trixe,” shrieked Trixie, flipping and backflipping helplessly in midair as she lifted towards the ceiling. The red light intensified, and a portal opened up straight above her. The giant mandibles of some otherworldly arachnid beast emerged from the bloodlit beyond, drooling for its sacrificial prey. The air brimmed with starlight and corpsemeat. “Trixe.”
“Trixe,” shouted Spike. And—with a brave flex of his wingmuscles—he flew up and over the battle, heading straight for Trixie.
One cultist knocked back Starlight and aimed his staff at the dragon whelp. A beam of dark magic flew at him like a bullet.
But he dodged in mid-flight, twirled, and fired a plume of dragonbreath down at the invader. As the cultist blocked, Spike used the stolen time to reach Trixie. He grabbed the flailing unicorn and tried to shake her loose from the spell. However—as soon as he pierced the crimson bubble—something happened to him. Both Spike and Trixie gasped as his green spines turned into pale white mane hair. His scales rippled backwards, disappearing into a layer of sky blue fuzz. Within seconds, his claws became hooves and he sported a magic wand for a cutie mark and a fluffy tail to match his mane.
Now there were two Trixies floating above the runes, clutching each other as they levitated dangerously towards the alien maw chomping at them from the ceiling.
“Trixe.”
“Trixe.”
Starlight looked up, gasping through the heat and sweat of her fight. “Trixe,” she said in exclamation. An errant staff smacked her across the face. She slid across the manadust of the pentagram, her coat turning from off-pink to off-blue. She gasped, watching as her tail turned snow-white and her cutie mark became a magic wand with pixie dust. “Trixe,” she sputtered in her best friend's voice.
Twilight Sparkle zapped two cultists back then looked at the third Trixie in the room. “Trixe,” she gasped, summoning telekinesis to drag her to safety. She gasped as she saw the color of her magic spell changing. Her eyes darted to a standing mirror across the room, besides the bed. A startled Trixie with alicorn wings mimicked her every movement. “Trixe,” Twilight murmured. But before she could do anything about it, she saw the mirror reflecting a staff sailing towards the back of her head.
The impact sent the alicorn Trixie falling to the ground. She groaned, stirring in pain as the room filled with the scurrying of hooves.
The cultists reformed their circle. They all aimed their staves at the two trixies levitating upwards towards the portal. The chanting resumed, darker and more intense this time.
“Trixe,” one Trixie shrieked. “Trixe.” Over and over. “Trixe.”
The other Trixie tried yanking her down—but was likewise caught in the dark magic field.
Together, they floated closer to the spider mouth lashing at them from above with hairy, constellatory fangs. Nebulae rippled with bloodlust and crimson ghosts laughed hungrily from the galactic miasma.
The two Trixies collapsed on the ground watched helplessly.
“Trixe,” was all they could say.
The giant fangs reached so low they could scrape its target—the first and original Trixie.
She shrieked at the top of her lungs: “Trixe.”
Just then...
...the window burst open. In flew a winged Trixie. The rainbow colors of her mane were vanishing to white, but she nonetheless glared down at the cultists with a tomcolt's frown. “Trixe.”
Clopping hooves...
...and four other ponies rushed in from the hallway.
“Trixe,” shouted a Trixie, wearing a cowboy hat. She pointed heroically into the room. “Trixe.”
“Trixe,” insisted another, bouncing straight into the room and unleashing a party cannon into the side of one cultist.
Confetti and bone matter splattered in a cone, showering the winged Trixie as she swooped down in a pale blue streak, pinballing across all of the cultists' bodies.
Another winged pony flew in, whimpering in fear, but nonetheless tugged at the two floating Trixies beneath the portal.
At last, a final Trixie—gifted with inspiration—grabbed a half-dozen brooms from the various closets of the castle. Using levitation magic, she brushed, swept, and tidied up the floor of the bedroom beneath the epic battle. In so doing, she completely erased all of the runes.
There was a godlike shriek from above. Everytrixie gasped as the spider mandibles writhed in pain and terror—before receding completely into the nebulous dreadspace beyond. The portal rippled with erratic lightning before closing entirely. The three floating Trixies fell down to the floor in a slump.
“Trixe,” shouted the cultists. Each of them caught flame, burning through their cloaks to their bone. “Trixe.”
The invaders writhed in agony, spinning into themselves until each soundlessly imploded into calcified piles of dust.
Then all was silent and still in the showmare's bedroom.
Each mare exhaled with relief where they flew or stood.
“Trixe.”
“Trixe.”
“Trixe.”
Silence.
They all looked at one another, blinking in confusion—and more than a little bit of frustration.
“Trixe.”
“Trixe.”
“Trixe.”
The gasps turned to groans...
And there was plenty of facehoofing to be had.
“Trixe,” the alicorn Trixie said firmly. She paced before the rest of the group, staring at each pony one by one. “Trixe.” Demanding. “Trixe.” Interrogative. “Trixe.” More interrogative.
The Trixies looked at one another. All appeared confused. Many of them shrugged.
The Trixiecorn paced some more, rubbing her chin. At last, she gestured at every winged Trixie and hornless Trixie. She motioned them towards one side of the room.
The Trixies in question obeyed.
At last, there were three unicorn Trixies standing side by side on their own side of the room.
The alicorn Trixie stared impatiently at them. “Trixe,” she said.
They all pointed at each other—some of them switching Trixies.
“Trixe,” demanded the alicorn.
Again, more hoof-pointing and shrugs and monosyllabic responses.
Meanwhile, the Trixie with a cowboy hat saw the packet of peanut butter crackers lying on the floor. She whistled, drawing the attention of the three unicorns. Then—with zero hesitation—she stomped her hoof over the treats, smashing them to crumbs and mush.
“Trixe,” shouted one unicorn Trixie, reaching in futility for the ruined food item. Her eyes brimmed with tears as if a family member had been gutted in front of her.
The other two unicorns rolled their eyes and stepped apart, leaving the saddened one in the center.
The alicorn Trixie approached her with a motherly glare. “Trixe,” she asked. Then she leaned in closer, speaking more loudly: “Trixe.”
With ears folded, Trixie looked up. She bore puppy dog eyes.
“Trixe,” the alicorn asked. “Trixe,” she asked even more.
Trixie fidgeted, avoiding her gaze once again.
“Trixe...” The alicorn stole Trixie's attention. Using her blue hooves and bluer wingfeathers, she charaded a trip being taken on a showmare's wagon.
“Trixe,” Trixie responded. A nervous titter, a shrug, and she charaded stopping by a potion shop and buying a bottle of questionable fluid. “Trixe.” She bore a nervous, sweating smile.
The alicorn looked at the dust that remained of the cultists, then looked back Trixie. “Trixe.” Her horn glowed as she produced the image of skull and bones in the air. “Trixe.”
Trixie gulped, then shrugged with a nervous nod. “Trixe.” She rubbed the back of her head sheepishly.
The alicorn rolled her eyes, then zapped Trixie's head with magic.
A strand of white mane hair was plucked magically from Trixie's scalp.
“Trixe,” the showmare yelped in pain, rubbing her head.
The alicorn whistled at one of the winged Trixies. “Trixe.” She charaded performing a spell, then trotted off towards the alchemy wing of the castle. “Trixe.”
“Trixe,” saluted the winged Trixie. They tried trotting after the alicorn on waddling legs—then grimaced at the impossibility of the act. At last, they flapped their wings and flew after the alicorn, their body hunched over like a dragon whelp's.
Five of the other Trixies shuffled collectively out of the room. Two flying close together, one bouncing and giggling. The Trixie in a cowboy hat paused at the bedroom exit, looked back, and rolled her eyes before helping the next nearest Trixie put away the castle brooms.
This left two unicorn Trixies standing in the messy bedroom. One had her head hanging in shame. The other approached her and rested a friendly hoof on the first while smiling.
“Trixe,” she said.
The Great and Powerful Trixie looked up, ears perking slightly. She smiled hopefully, shrugged, and muttered back: “Trixe.”
“Trixe,” insisted the other. And she leaned in, engulfing her best bestie in a tight hug.
“Trixe,” exhaled Trixie, surrendering to the warm embrace. The panic and trauma of the morning began to wash away—
CRASSSSH! A blue winged body barreled through the open window and slammed into the far wall of the room.
Both Trixies gasped and spun to face the new individual.
An upside down Trixie with googly eyes pawed at the distant ceiling. She finally sat up, sporting a mailmare's bag. A sheepish grin, and she rubbed her white mane back before speaking towards the opposite walls of the room. “Trixe.”
One unicorn winced.
The Great and Powerful Trixie sighed, face deadpan and exhausted.
“Trixe,” Trixie cursed.
