The View Over Atlantis

by Zobeid

Rating: teen
Tags: Adventure, Alternate Universe, Human, Original Character, Trixie, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Length: 59033

Trixie takes her show across the Barrier to the human world, but is soon recruited by a mysterious organization.

Trixie hits the road once again, this time taking her magic act across the dimensional barrier to the world of humans. Soon she is recruited by a mysterious organization called The Golden Dawn, who say they're trying to save the world from Conversion. However, if they're wrong their misguided effort could doom millions. Trixie doesn't know who to believe, but she'll have to figure it out and decide where her loyalties lie: with her homeland and Princess Celestia, or with her new friends and the charismatic Queen Katrina!

Published 2013-02-20 00:30:02 UTC
Last updated 2017-11-10 04:26:31 UTC

Across the Rainbow Bridge

Teeth clenched on the handle, Autumn Flare dipped her brush in the paint bucket, then drew it out carefully, trailing the bristles across the lip of the can so that excess paint would go back into it rather than drip. She turned her head and stretched her neck and painted a wet stripe of pale lavender onto a wooden beam. Deftly.

As she colored the trim, another paintbrush was filling white paint into a large panel above. The brush floated in a violet aura of magic, matched by the glow emanating from Trixie Lulamoon’s horn. “Almost done!” Trixie noted. Then she added, “You really didn’t have to help me with this.”

Autumn was silent as she finished painting the wooden trim, dropped the brush back into the paint bucket and said, “Of course not, but I wanted to.” She stood up on all four legs and stretched them, and her wings as well, then stepped back and looked over the freshly-painted caravan, or enclosed wagon. “It’s looking good. You’ll be ready to leave soon, won’t you?”

Trixie nodded. “It’s getting about that time of year. Laying about with my friends here in Hoofington doesn’t pay the bills. As soon as winter is wrapped up, I’ll be ready to begin my tour. Err… With a farewell show for the town, as always.”

Autumn giggled softly and said, “Laying about with your friends? You barely found any time for that. We’ll miss you the rest of the year.”

It was too true, Trixie silently reflected. The off-season wasn’t as rigorous as touring, but it wasn’t three months of slacking and getting fat either. There was practicing magic and studying new spells, developing material for the act, mending and restocking her caravan, and of course reconnecting with her hometown friends.

To Autumn she said, “I’ll miss you too. But my life is what it is. Maybe I’ll settle down someday, somewhere, but I’m not old and creaky yet. The Great and Powerful Trixie was born for adventure.”

Autumn nodded. “Everypony looks forward to when you come back, full of stories about all the adventures you had on the road. Have you planned out where you’re going this year?”

Trixie opened her mouth to speak, but then stopped. She looked around — theatrically, as if making sure no one else was within earshot — and moved closer to Autumn before saying, “Don’t tell anypony, but I’ve decided to take my show across the barrier, into the human world, this year.”

Autumn gawped, and her wings flared out for a moment. “What? Are you serious?”

Trixie nodded. “I’ve been thinking it over. Last season I started seeing more newfoals in the audience, and they’re wild about my act. I’m sure I’ll be a hit with the humans too.”

Autumn drew her wings back against her flanks, but her brow furrowed as she said, “Trixie, do you have any idea how dangerous that is? Everything I’ve heard about the human world is bad. It’s full of pollution and guns and robots and terrorists and… and… humans! It’s a dying world.”

Trixie nodded. “A dying world. Quite so, and how could I forgive myself if I didn’t see its wonders first-hoof before it’s gone? Haven’t you ever wanted to see a human in the flesh, not just a photograph?”

Autumn shook her head. “No. No I don’t. A picture in the newspaper is as close as I want to get to them. They’re horrid creatures. They’ve almost destroyed their own world.”

“I’m sure you exaggerate the hazards, dear. The newfoals I’ve met have been rather nice. Besides that, I can’t resist a challenge. I’ve heard it said that if you can make it in New York City, you can make it anywhere. And since New York won’t be there for much longer, this is my only chance to find out.”

Autumn’s ears drooped for a moment, then she moved over to Trixie, sat back on her haunches and gave the unicorn a hug with her front legs. Trixie’s eyes widened with surprise at the unexpected embrace, but then she returned it. Autumn said softly, “I guess you’ve made up your mind, but please be careful and come back to us in one piece. Okay?”

Trixie nodded and said, “Don’t worry, the Great and Powerful Trixie is not so easily vanquished. And just imagine the tales I’ll return with!” The two ponies released one another. Still a little embarrassed — for she was not a touchy-feely sort of pony, by natural inclination — Trixie glanced down and said, “Come on now, let’s get these paintbrushes clean before they dry out!”

NATIVE EQUESTRIANS AWAKE!
Your Country Is In Peril

Our beloved Princess Celestia, in her infinite mercy, has offered ponyfication to the Humans of Earth. Although Her Majesty’s desire to save these wretched creatures from the culmination of their own folly is both Noble and Admirable, her sympathy toward them may yet lead our nation to Rack and Ruin.

DID YOU KNOW that there are more than eight billion humans on Earth? They outnumber the population of Equestria by more than a hundred-to-one! If any significant fraction of humans become ponyfied, then native Equestrians will be reduced to a tiny minority of ponies lost in an ocean of newfoals!

DID YOU KNOW that the human population is almost evenly split between males and females? Can you imagine how this radical influx of stallions will disrupt our institutions and long-held matriarchal traditions?

WHAT WILL THIS DO to our culture, when almost all ponies have grown up watching “Star Wars”, and eating “ham burgers” AND “hot dogs”, and listening to disturbing “rock music”, AND playing violent “video games”? Our Princess Celestia (Glory to her Name!) has told us that the ponyfication process makes newfoals Docile and Loyal — but can we really be sure this change will be effective on all of them? Can we be sure it won’t wear off? What about their foals — will they grow up as normal ponies, or revert to Human modes of Thought and Behavior?

WHAT WILL HAPPEN to our traditions when the vast majority of ponies wish to celebrate strange holidays such as “Christmas” or “Halloween” instead of Hearth Warming Day and Nightmare Night? What will become of our culture when most ponies have read “Mark Twain” or “Shake Spear” but know nothing of the classic tales of Pen Stroke and Wanderer D?

DID YOU KNOW that the humans have hundreds of different languages? Despite the similarity of the “English” and Equestrian language, countless millions of newfoals will be virtually unable to communicate in our land and amongst our people.

DID YOU KNOW that the humans have dozens of different “religions”, and that many of them believe in Strange Superstitions and pay homage (which they call “worship”) to fictional beings they call Gods? In the name of their Religions they have fought wars and committed Unspeakable Acts throughout their long and bloody history. Can we truly expect them to abandon these beliefs now and pledge their fealty to our Princesses?

The human world is vast, their civilization (if it can be called such) spanning many thousands of miles and six Continents separated by Vast Oceans. Even with their “telecommunications” and “jet travel” they have found it impossible to maintain order across such a Vast and Diverse expanse of territories. Can ponies, lacking such Technology, ever hope to govern such a world? Even our Princesses have nothing in their thousands of years of experience to prepare them for such a task.

WE BELIEVE that the human world, with its vast distances, vast population, foreign cultures, and disparate languages and beliefs, is inherently unmanageable — and will still be unmanageable even after that population is Converted to ponies.

WE BELIEVE furthermore that allowing Teeming Masses of Newfoals to flood into Equestria Proper will doom our Culture and our Society to chaos and inevitable collapse, despite the best intentions of our Princesses.

WE BESEECH Her Majesty, Princess Celestia, to bar entry of Newfoals into Equestria Proper, so that our Way of Life may remain intact. As the advancing Barrier strips away the Pollutions and Poisons of mankind from the Earth, there should be plenty of land there for the Newfoals to reside upon. They do not have to come here!

CONTRARY TO RUMORS, our Organization is not affiliated with the so-called “Human Liberation Front”, nor do we advocate withholding the blessings of Ponyfication from Humans. We do not and will not use violence to advance our views, but will instead continue to Advocate Vigorously for their implementation.

We are the PURE PONY LEAGUE. Join us, Native Equestrian Ponies, and help preserve our Nation’s Future!

— Scritti Politti of the PPL

Another burst of fireworks exploded around the stage of Trixie’s caravan, as she struck a final dramatic pose, rearing up on her hind legs and throwing her arms wide. Then she dropped to all fours and bowed, using her magic to doff her wizard hat and sweep it before her in the manner of a curtain call.

The audience whistled and applauded loudly, with some ponies stamping the ground using their front hooves in the traditional manner, although many of the newfoals sat upright and tried clapping their hooves together like human hands. There were a few humans in the audience too, clapping appreciatively.

Trixie put her hat on and said loudly as the applause subsided, “Don’t forget the tip jars in front of the stage! The Great and Powerful Trixie thanks you all!” Then the curtain drew closed, and Trixie trotted backstage to the interior of her caravan.

Trixie would clean up the stage and collect her tips shortly. For the moment she hung up her hat and cap, then flopped onto her cot and closed her eyes for a moment. A gentle smile graced her muzzle as she listened to the murmur of the crowd dispersing outside and breathed in the familiar scent of the fireworks smoke still lingering in the air.

Coming through the barrier had been the best career move she’d ever made. Newfoals adored unicorn magic, hungered for it. Even the unicorns among them lacked the knowledge and years of practice needed to perform magical feats that Trixie tossed off so easily. For most of them magic began and ended with simple levitation, a mere substitute for the hands they’d given up. And of course, the dwindling human population were just as entranced by Trixie’s performance, if not more so. Most humans seemed stingy with their tips, though. Newfoals, by comparison, were almost absurdly generous.

Trixie had considered staying on the Equestrian side of the ever-expanding bubble. She knew it would have been safer. The human side of the barrier was dingy, smelly, and still sprinkled with ugly and unpredictable humans, notorious for their antisocial tendencies. However, the newer the newfoals, the more gullible and generous with their bits they tended to be. Beyond that, the history of humankind was full of both horrors and wonders, and there would never be another chance for Trixie to glimpse either.

After resting briefly, Trixie went to collect her donations from the tip jars at the front of the stage. She gave one a shake and smiled at the jangling of coins inside. The value of Equestrian bits had gone through some dramatic swings over the last couple of years, as the bureaucracy and the royal mint had struggled to match the supply of currency with a rapidly expanding population and borders. Now the latest bout of deflation had eased, and ponies were letting go of their bits more freely than they had only a few weeks earlier.

Trixie was just starting to take her earnings inside when she was waylaid by a human. “Excuse me, may I speak with you?” he asked with an unfamiliar accent. Trixie turned to look at the man. He was shorter than most human males, though of course he still towered over Trixie. His skin was brown, and he had a neat black mustache, and wore a dark business suit, and carried a slim attache case.

Trixie vaguely recalled seeing him lurking in the audience, at the back of the crowd. She looked up at him dubiously and asked, “Do you have business with the Great and Powerful Trixie?”

He knelt, bringing his face closer to her level, and gave a little bow. “If it pleases you, miss. I am Abdel Youssef. I would like to inquire as to hiring you for a private engagement.”

“Abdel Youssef…” Trixie repeated, hoping she’d be able to remember. She had an awful time with human names, as they typically didn’t mean anything at all. “Trixie would invite you into her caravan, but she is afraid it would be rather cramped for somepony… err, I mean, someone of your stature. I mean size.” She merfed inwardly at her momentary awkwardness. She was not used to talking to humans.

Abdel didn’t seem to notice. “There is a cafe nearby,” he said. “Perhaps we could discuss business over refreshments?”

Soon they were seated at a table partaking of chai tea and scones, which Trixie found quite pleasing — particularly when she wasn’t paying. Although not as good as Equestrian fare, they at least seemed to be natural food, not synthesized. Trixie felt she should get down to business, though, and she said, “So, umm… Tell Trixie about this private engagement?”

He responded, “My employer is fascinated by unicorn magic and wishes a demonstration, as well as the opportunity to interview such a talented and knowledgeable individual as yourself. There may also be the possibility of a permanent position in his employ, if you are so inclined.”

Trixie frowned at him. “What kind of permanent position? And who is this employer you speak of?”

Abdel cleared his throat and said, “I hope I can rely upon your discretion in this matter. My employer is a high ranking officer of The Golden Dawn. Our organization avoids publicity, and I would prefer not to reveal more details at this time. However, we will provide transportation to and from England, as well as lodgings and expenses for the duration of your stay.”

Trixie blinked. She’d only heard the most vague rumors of The Golden Dawn. She’d thought they were either a religious cult or a terrorist organization, or possibly some combination of the two — not that she fully understood either concept. And England? Trixie’s knowledge of earthly geography was fuzzy. She asked, “England? How far away is that?”

“It is overseas, a large island just off the continent of Europe. It is a trip of several thousand miles.”

Trixie scowled. “Several thousand? That is no small journey! Will you also compensate Trixie for her time?”

Rather than answer directly, the man drew a small pouch from his attache case and set it on the table before Trixie. It jingled. Trixie scowled at the bag. “A mere bag of bits means nothing. I earn more than that from a single performance.”

Abdel then reached to the bag, loosened the drawstring, and spilled its contents on the tabletop. Trixie gasped at the glitter of gold coins instead of common brass bits. She levitated one, bringing it closer to her eyes. The front of the coin bore the profile of a human female wearing a crown. Surrounding her were the words:

ELIZABETH - II - DEI - GRATIA - REGINA - F : D :

Turning over the coin revealed an image of a man on horseback. The man wore a cape, not unlike Trixie’s own, and a feathered helmet like those of Celestia’s guards. In his hand he clutched a sword, and his horse was rearing and trampling upon what appeared to be a small dragon, a wyvern perhaps.

Trixie pondered. Gold coins were one of the few forms of human money that still had much value. Paper currency of the old nation-states meant nothing. Gem stones were relatively common in Equestria and could easily be synthesized on Earth. Nanomachines could replicate almost any object, but they couldn’t transmute other elements into silver or gold. Many humans now traded a form of money they, rather confusingly, called “bit coin”, but it was neither an Equestrian Bit nor a coin, and it seemed to have no real existence outside of their confounding computers. Trixie squinted suspiciously at the gold coin and cast a quick authenticity spell. The coin emitted a light ringing sound, indicating it was genuine.

Trixie estimated the contents of the coin pouch were easily more than she could earn in six months of street performance. She magically swept the coins back into the pouch and stashed the pouch inside her hat. To Abdel she said, “Trixie must arrange for the storage of her caravan, but thereafter shall be at your service!”

<<<<>>>>

Author's Note

Just in case anybody wasn't sure, "The Golden Dawn" is meant to tie in (albeit loosely) with the occult society of late 19th Century Britain and has NO relation to the right-wing political organization in modern Greece, which I'd never even heard of when I was writing this.

Electronik Supersonik

Abdel came the next day with a taxi to pick up Trixie and take her — and her steamer trunk — to the airport. On the way he explained the logistics of the journey. “Our flight will take us across the North Atlantic Ocean, to Manchester, England. From there I will escort you overland to our final destination.” Trixie nodded but said nothing, not caring to reveal her ignorance of those names and places. She quietly looked around the interior of the car, and out the window at the cityscape and traffic whizzing past, all a novel experience to her, but she struggled to appear unimpressed. She had a worldly reputation to maintain.

After they were cleared through security and customs, they entered the concourse where Abdel quickly located two humans and one pony and began introductions. “Trixie, our traveling companions are Maikel Nabil… Ivan McGregor… and this lovely mare is Desert Rose. They will be traveling with us for at least part of our journey.” Then he gestured indicating Trixie. “My friends, this is Trixie Lulamoon, mage extraordinary.”

As they exchanged pleasantries, Trixie sized up her traveling companions. Maikel was another swarthy man like Abdel, though taller and lankier, and more casually dressed. Ivan, by contrast, was pale complected with a bear-like physique and a face framed by unruly blond curls and a prominent matching beard, giving him a permanently jovial countenance. Desert Rose was an earth pony with a sandy tan coat and rosy-pink mane, and a thorny rose for her cutie mark. She must be a native Equestrian, Trixie realized. Although not entirely unknown, it was rare for newfoals to acquire a cutie mark.

The group went through security and proceeded to the tarmac where a slender, almost impossibly sleek, jet aircraft waited. The jet was painted red and white, with a curious mark on the disproportionately large engine pods that straddled the aft portion of the fuselage. It seemed to be a very stylized representation of an eye, outlined in black, interposed in the middle of a golden sun. Trixie didn’t recognize the eye, but a strange symbol eclipsing a near-replica of Princess Celestia’s cutie mark was unsettling to her — it seemed vaguely blasphemous.

Trixie’s attention, however, was quickly distracted from the plane’s markings when she spotted a large griffin standing guard by the jet. Noticing Trixie and Rose’s reactions, Abdel explained, “This is Black Talon, our security escort.” The griffin only nodded silently in acknowledgement.

“Trixie was not aware of any griffins in the human world.”

“Indeed,” said Abdel. “Our organization actively recruits them from Equestria. We find them particularly effective as guards. They are more aggressive and far more intimidating than ponies, and they are strong fliers, and their forepaws are relatively dextrous. Also, our society has a long tradition of employing griffins as sacred guardians.”

“A long tradition?” Trixie echoed. “How is that possible if griffins are not native to this world?”

“It is a mystery,” Abdel conceded. “Thousands of years ago our ancestors carved statues of griffins to guard their temples and tombs. How they came about the knowledge of such beings is a matter of speculation and debate. But of course, our world also has legends of dragon, pegasus and unicorn.” Then he motioned toward the plane’s boarding ladder. “Shall we embark?”

Trixie’s steamer trunk was the largest and most awkward item of luggage to bring aboard, although her magical levitation enabled her to handle it without much difficulty and garnered admiring compliments from the humans.

The jet’s narrow passenger cabin was luxuriously furnished, although Trixie felt a bit queasy when contemplating the number of cows that must have been sacrificed to upholster the leather seats. In the aft portion of the compartment was a small serving table with a couple of bench seats, each seat large enough for two humans — but Black Talon sprawled across one seat, and Maikel Nabil took the other. Forward past them was a cluster of four individual seats which the remaining passengers claimed. Although the seats were designed for humans, Trixie and Rose were able to make do by sitting on their haunches.

Trixie had only flown twice before in her life: once in a balloon and once in a pegasus-drawn chariot. She did her best to conceal her excitement over this new experience. This was exactly the sort of thing she’d crossed the barrier to see and do. “How fast does this plane go?” she asked.

Abdel scratched his head, then turned to Ivan. “Do you know?”

“We could ask the pilot,” Ivan said, “but I believe the Aerion’s cruising speed is Mach 1.7.”

“Trixie is not sure how much a Mach is.”

Ivan asked, “How do you measure speed in Equestria?”

“Miles per hour,” said Trixie.

“Ah. You’re still on the understandable system. Good show! Well… Assuming your mile is the same as ours, that would be somewhere in excess of a thousand miles per hour.”

“Oh no,” said Trixie. “That surely can’t be right, that is much too fast.”

Ivan shrugged and chuckled. “The Aerion is one of the fastest jets outside of the military. You’ll see.”

Trixie soon saw. The jet’s takeoff and initial ascent evoked a feeling of smoothly controlled power the likes of which she’d never experienced before. Trixie was pushed back in her seat as the jet accelerated… and accelerated… and accelerated… “Sweet Celestia, it’s got to slack off sometime!” Trixie thought with growing anxiety. A mild tremble went through the streamlined plane as it cut through the sound barrier, then it continued accelerating up to supercruise speed and altitude.

When the acceleration finally eased, Trixie released her clenched teeth, caught her breath, and looked out the window. She could see broken clouds far below, and sunlight glinting on the sea. With the jet now holding a steady speed and altitude, it barely felt like it was even moving, and the pair of huge engines somehow operated with no more than a dull whooshing noise audible inside the cabin.

“Are you all right, miss pony?” Trixie blinked at the sound of Ivan’s voice before realizing the question wasn’t directed at her. His attention was focused on Desert Rose. She had drawn up her legs beneath her, squeezed her eyes shut, and her body was shivering.

“I’ve heard of this,” Trixie offered. “Some earth ponies react badly to flying, especially if its their first time. err… Physical contact might help soothe her.”

Ivan glanced at Trixie as if hoping she might elaborate, if not volunteer, but she only shrugged. Hesitantly, Ivan reached over and stroked Rose’s mane. She whimpered softly and pressed against his hand.

“Go on,” Trixie urged him. “Hold her.”

Ivan blinked, but got out of his seat and went to kneel by Desert Rose’s seat. He leaned over and put his beefy arms around the pony and hugged her. She rubbed her head and neck against him in return and began to calm. Ivan scratched behind her ear with his fingertips and noticed the rose-like scent of her mane. He wondered if it was a perfume or if pony manes naturally smelled like flowers. Gradually her breathing slowed and muscles became less tense until she was able to speak. “thuh—thank you” she uttered softly.

“It’s my pleasure,” he said with sincerity. He hadn’t known that ponies could be so soft and warm. “Do you think you’ll be all right now?” he asked.

“Don’t let go! I mean, um… just a minute longer, please?”

“As long as you need.”

Rose closed her big green eyes again, only briefly, then opened them and looked at Ivan and said, “You feel like the earth. It’s like you’ve got some of it in you.”

“What do you mean?”

Rose tried to explain. “I mean, when the plane left the ground, I couldn’t feel my connection with the earth anymore. I felt lost. But when you touch me, it’s like I can feel it again, just a little.”

The big man smiled and stroked her mane gently and said, “Well, I guess that makes some sort of sense, being as how I’m a geomancer.”

Desert Rose didn’t respond to that, but Trixie did. “Geomancer?” she echoed. “What a strange word!”

Ivan explained, “Geomancy means, literally, earth magic. It’s a broad term, covers everything from divining markings on the ground to dowsing to feng shui. Do you have anything like that in Equestria?”

“Unicorn magic can be used for dowsing, but the other things you mention are unfamiliar.” Trixie paused a moment to glance at Desert Rose. The earth pony’s discomfort seemed to have evaporated, replaced by enjoyment of Ivan’s petting. A hint of jealousy flickered through Trixie’s heart for an instant, before she dismissed the feeling as silly and unworthy of her. She continued speaking and added, “Earth ponies have their own abilities that are based in magic, but they don’t cast spells as such.” Then Trixie blinked as she realized something. “Wait!” she said, as she stared at Ivan. “How can you do any magic at all? Humans aren’t supposed to be able to do that.”

Ivan glanced up from Rose and grinned mischievously, and said, “Oh? Who told you that?”

Trixie gawped, her jaw slack for a moment as she struggled with the question. Then she said, “Everypony! Everypony told me that! It was one of the first things we learned about humans: they can’t do magic. There isn’t any magic in the human world, except what we ponies bring with us.”

Ivan started to answer, but then raised a hand to forestall Trixie for a moment. He looked into Desert Rose’s eyes and asked, “How are you feeling, sweetie?”

She smiled and nuzzled him, then spoke softly. “Much better now, thank you!” she said.

“You’re most welcome,” he replied, then he got to his feet, stiffly, and flopped back into his own cabin seat. He rubbed his leg. “Oy! My foot went to sleep. It’ll take a minute to get the feeling back.” Then he turned to Trixie and said, “So you were told there’s no magic here, that we can’t do magic. This you were told by scientists, by people who don’t believe in magic. Bit of a biased opinion, don’t you think?”

She responded, with growing irritation, “Opinion? Trixie doesn’t see how this can be a matter of opinion. Either you have magic or you don’t. You cast a spell and it does something — or it doesn’t, and you’re sent back to magic kindergarten.”

“Well, it’s never been that clear-cut for us, has it? For thousands of years we’ve had shamans, prophets, witches, magicians and seers. Practitioners of the occult arts. You know what occult means? Hidden. Magic on our world is hidden, that’s all.”

Trixie’s head felt like it was spinning as she considered the implications of Ivan’s words. Was that really possible? Could something so huge, so fundamental about the nature of the world, simply be hidden for thousands of years? It sounded crazy.

Desert Rose spoke up and said, “Earth pony magic is sort of like that. It’s subtle. For a long time unicorns wouldn’t admit we have any magic at all. Some still don’t.”

Ivan looked to Trixie for her response to that, but she only nibbled her lip thoughtfully, as though metaphorically chewing over the idea. Then Ivan shrugged and looked to the earth pony again and asked, “So, Rose, if I may ask, how did you end up on a plane to England?”

“I’m riding all the way to Egypt,” she said. “They have a huge oasis there called the Fayum, and they want to clean it up and grow lots of food there. So I’m gonna help them figure it out.”

Ivan grinned again — an expression that came easily to him — and said, “A Desert Rose to make the desert bloom, eh?”

Rose laughed! “Oh yeah! Maybe my name is what got me the job, I dunno? But I’ll do my best. What about you?”

“Ah well, that’s complicated to explain, and I’m afraid it’s a bit secretive. I hope you’ll forgive me for being vague on the subject. But in broad terms, my specialty is ancient monuments. I was just in the states doing some research, exchanging notes with some colleagues you know, but England is home for me. So, I’ll be going back to work on restoring some of those ancient sites.”

Trixie perked up and asked, “Restoring ancient monuments? Doesn’t that seem a bit, um, frivolous, when your world is being transformed into Equestria. For that matter, you are going to be converted, I assume?”

Ivan shrugged off the question. “It’s not a foregone conclusion. The barrier is still a long way from England, so I’ll just wait and see what happens with that.” Rose gave him a concerned look.

Trixie was thoughtful, choosing her words with care. She said, “We’ve been told that it’s inevitable, that there’s no way to prevent the barrier from consuming the whole planet. All humans will have to be converted to ponies to survive.”

Ivan’s smile didn’t falter. “You were told we didn’t have any magic too. But there’s still time. We’ll see what happens.”

Trixie didn’t press the issue, and they lapsed into occasional small talk as the time passed. After a while Abdel took out his phone and began poking at it, as humans so often tended to do. Ivan retrieved from his bags a larger computer, one of the folding types with a keyboard, and began to work with it. Trixie was unable to suppress her curiosity — although human technology had produced many wonders, computers were among the most mysterious and fascinating to ponies. She watched him for a few minutes, then asked, “Could you show me that device?”

He motioned to her and said, “Come on over here! You’re welcome to look over my shoulder, and I’ll show you how it works.” She did so, propping up her front hooves on the armrest of his seat and peering at the computer’s display.

“So, as you can see here, I have a diagram of a stone circle. This is the one at Castlerigg, in fact. I can bring up different views of it. Here’s the current condition of the site, with all the surviving stones that have been found. And here’s a reconstruction of the site’s original configuration, as nearly as we can determine it, including the associated earthworks and wooden structures.”

Trixie nodded and said, “I see.” The details of the machine’s operation escaped her, but she got the gist of what he was doing. “It seems almost like a magical notebook, although the complexity of the spells for something of that sort would be frightful.”

Ivan nodded and then pressed another key, which caused the diagram to be replaced with a more lifelike image, rendered with color and a three-dimensional perspective. “And here’s a projection of what the site should look like after restoration,” he explained.

Trixie said, “But… They’re just stones, standing on end. What kind of monument is this? What’s the purpose?”

“You don’t have stone circles in Equestria?”

Trixie pondered for a moment, glancing at the image on the screen. “Is it sort of like a fairy ring?” She was grasping at straws, but it was the only thing she could think of.

“Hmm, that’s an interesting comparison. It’s tempting to imagine that the ancient people who invented stone circles might have modeled them after fairy rings. But that’s only a guess. If there’s any such connection, it’s lost far back in the mists of prehistory.”

Trixie peered at the computer’s screen again and mused, “But fairy rings are magical. Is this some sort of magical engine?”

Ivan frowned for a moment, pondering his response. Then he glanced at her and smiled mischievously, and teased, “Oh come now! You know there’s no magic in this world.”

She uttered a soft, inward growl and said, “Trixie may need to research this phenomenon further.”

After that Ivan remained friendly, but he turned evasive, as though concerned that he might have already revealed too much. Changing the subject, he asked, “What about your work, Miss Lulamoon? I have to admit some surprise that it’s even possible for a unicorn to be successful at stage magic. Can’t all unicorns cast spells?”

Trixie thought for a moment, then answered,“Let me put it this way: I was surprised to learn that there are human jugglers, given that all humans have such dextrous hands.”

Ivan chuckled. “I guess I can see that comparison. So, your magical talents are more highly developed.”

“But of course! All unicorn ponies have a little magic. Even newfoals learn to cast simple lights and levitation. However…” She paused for a moment to choose her words, and then explained, “I can cast a much wider range of spells than the typical unicorn. For most of them magic is not a subject to study and master. They learn a spell or two that is useful in their profession, and they’re done with it. Magic itself is my profession.”

Ivan stroked his beard and said, “I think I can see why Abdel wanted you. We might learn a lot from comparing notes.”

Trixie huffed. “A proper magician does not casually reveal her secrets.” That prompted only another good-natured chuckle from Ivan. Trixie went back to looking out the window for a while, but soon was bored by the expanse of clouds and sea below.

Even at the Aerion’s cruising speed, crossing the ocean took a while. Eventually the dull sound of the engines changed subtly and all on board could feel the plane begin to slow and very gradually descend. The humans began to put away their various electronic devices. “What’s happening?” asked Desert Rose.

Ivan answered saying, “We’re approaching the English coastline. The plane has to go subsonic for the flight over land to keep from hammering the whole countryside with sonic booms. You might want to buckle up; we’ll start lining up for the landing approach soon. Let me know if you start to feel uncomfortable, right?”

Rose nodded and answered, “I think I’ll be okay as long as we’re getting closer to the ground.”

Both Rose and Trixie secured themselves as best they could in the seats and harnesses not designed for their forms — Rose with help from Ivan, and Trixie relying on her magic. Then they peered out their windows, but still could see naught but a gray cloud deck below. Ivan observed, “Looks like everything is socked in with clouds, dunnit? Pity that. The countryside is beautiful in the sunlight.”

Trixie nodded but kept her thoughts to herself. Even at subsonic speed it didn’t take long for the Aereon to cross into the body of the British isle and begin banking around, descending to approach the airport. Despite her earlier assurances, Rose tensed up and braced herself with her hooves. The computer-guided landing was smooth, but Rose still uttered a little “yeek” when the wheels touched down, then sighed with relief while her ears drooped with embarrassment. “I’m glad that’s over,” she muttered.

Trixie’s horn glowed as she magically unbuckled herself, and she said to Rose, “I thought you were traveling onward to some place called Egypt.”

Rose winced. “Oh that’s right! I almost forgot, I have to do this all over again.”

Abdel said, “I am sure there will be time for you to stretch your legs and refresh yourself while the plane is being refueled, and I believe there may be a couple of other passengers who will join you. However, Ivan and Trixie and myself must bid you farewell.”

Looking to Desert Rose, Ivan added, “Until we meet again — as I think it is likely that we shall!”

She smiled back at him. “I hope so. I’d like that.”

Trixie quirked an eyebrow, surprised at how the two had hit it off. Then she turned her attention to the immediate concern of disembarking from the aircraft and retrieving her steamer trunk.

My Humble Mansion

As the three traveling companions ventured through the airport, Trixie found herself the center of attention, a position she usually relished, but which now made her uncomfortable. There were few ponies to be seen, but plenty of humans goggling at the little blue unicorn with a large trunk floating alongside her. For her own part, Trixie found the airport similar to the one they’d departed. Did humans have to build everything from the same plan, she wondered?

She glanced up at a sign and then exclaimed, “Manchester! Really? You humans poke so much fun at the names of pony cities, and then you bring me to a place called Manchester?”

Ivan laughed out loud, while Abdel merely blinked as if he didn’t get the joke. He said, “It is the second largest airport in England, and nearer to our destination than Heathrow. There should be a car waiting for us. This way!” He led them unerringly to a limousine, and soon they were on their way out of the airport.

Once again Trixie found herself in a distressingly leather-upholstered vehicle, staring out a window into a drizzly concrete cityscape. “Everything looks so gray,” she observed, quite softly, but Ivan overheard.

He told her, “Contrary to some pernicious rumors, the sun does shine on Merrie Olde England from time to time. All it takes is a wee bit of patience. There’s an old saying: if you don’t like the weather here, just wait a minute.”

Trixie slumped back in her seat, ears drooping. She thought that in her years of travel she’d put homesickness far behind, but she’d never been this far from home. Riding in this strange machine, with only humans around her, traveling through a dismal and alien landscape, she felt every mile of distance between herself and Hoofington. Come to think of that, she wasn’t even sure if the distance could be measured in miles. They were in different worlds, after all.

She glanced at Ivan McGregor, and Abdel Youssef, and at the anonymous driver of the limousine. What did she really know about any of these people? The more she thought about it, the more implausible it seemed that anyone would spend an enormous sum and transport her halfway around the world merely for a magic performance. If she never returned from this trip, would anypony even try to look for her? She huddled lower in her seat, the Great and Powerful Trixie feeling quite small.

After a while the car slowed, and the humans shifted in their seats, craning their necks to peer ahead. “What is it?” Ivan asked.

“It appears to be a traffic accident,” Abdel said, though his tone was laced with uncertainty.

They kept their eyes focused ahead as their car slowed almost to a stop, then Ivan said, “This is no accident.” He poked at the intercom with his thumb and called to their driver, “Gun it! Get us out of here!” The driver started to say something in reply, but then he reflexively ducked. A cinder block had been lobbed from behind the debris in the road and smashed into the limo’s windshield, crazing it with a spiderweb of fractured glass. Figures emerged all around from their hiding places and rushed to the car, shouting and battering it with bricks and rude clubs. One young man swung a cricket bat with gusto.

Wide eyed with fear, Trixie cried out over the din, “What’s happening? What do they want?” The hammering on the sides and roof of the car was like heavy hailstones, the muffled shouts angry and incoherent.

Abdel admonished, “Remain calm! The car is armored, they can’t get in.” Then he switched on the intercom and said to the driver, “Drive through them if you have to!”

The driver’s voice, laced with fear, came back. “It won’t move! The computer won’t let the car accelerate when there’s someone in front of it.”

The beating sounds stopped, but immediately the car began to rock violently side-to-side. Ivan said, “They’re trying to flip us over.”

“No!” yelled Trixie. She reared up and put her front hooves on the car door, and her horn flared with a bright magenta glow — lighting up the startled face of a man outside. An instant later the whole car flared with light of the same color, and all the attackers were knocked back from it.

The expression on Trixie’s face had gone from fear to angry determination. Her horn glowed fiercely as a dark cloud gathered above the limousine. A white flash flickered through the cloud, accompanied by a sharp crack of thunder. The humans around the car scattered, disappearing even more quickly than they had appeared.

The glow of magic faded, and Trixie sat back, puffing from her exertions. For a moment her companions only stared at her. Then Ivan had the presence of mind to thumb the intercom once more and say, “I think we better get indoors. The chavs are easily startled, but they’ll be back soon — and in greater numbers.” The driver nodded and quickly threw the car into gear and moved it around the wreckage, and then accelerated down the highway.

Once a safe distance away, the driver brought their car to rest at a corner store. He phoned the police to report the incident, and then got on with assessing the damage to the vehicle. His passengers, all shaken by the event, paced about restlessly. Trixie felt weak in the knees, yet filled with nervous energy — and she wanted answers. “Who were those humans, and why did they attack us?” she demanded.

Abdel muttered, “Terrorists. HLF, perhaps, trying to capture a powerful unicorn.” He fumbled with his phone, hands trembling.

“Oh stuff it!” shot back Ivan. “Those were no terrorists. They only wanted to get whatever they imagined we’ve got. Or vent their frustrations on us, because we had something and they’ve got nothing. They didn’t even know Trixie was with us until she started casting spells.”

“They were monsters!” Trixie asserted, her voice growing shrill. “This is what my friends tried to warn me about. They told me not to cross the barrier. I should have stayed on the other side, where there aren’t any humans.”

Ivan sighed and dragged his fingers through his hair. Then he looked to Trixie and said, “No, they’re not monsters. They’re just young men with no hope, and they don’t see any future, so they lash out. Can you imagine what it’s like to have no hope and no future?”

Trixie was lying with her belly on the floor, sniffling as she looked at her front hooves. Sensing that she was on the verge of tears, Ivan knelt by her and reached over to stroke her mane. She flinched at first, but he spoke soothingly to her. “It’ll be all right. We’re going someplace safe. And by the way… You were amazing.”

Trixie sniffed again and looked up at him. “I was?”

“Great and powerful indeed! If it was up to me, I’d recruit you on the spot.”

Abdel got off the phone and told them, “Another car is being dispatched to pick us up. We should not have to wait long.”

They took advantage of the brief delay to have a few snacks, although Trixie found the bench seats in the store hard and uncomfortable, and the pre-packaged, processed foods unappetizing. At least going through the motions of eating helped them all calm down. The new car arrived shortly, and their journey continued in peace. The drizzle had died away, and the clouds were breaking up and letting late afternoon sunshine through. Trixie blinked in befuddlement and asked, “Why is the sun so low? It’s mid-day!”

The humans glanced at each other with momentary confusion, then Abdel realized what she meant. “Of course, you did not realize we traveled across five time zones during our flight. It is mid-day back in New York, but it is five hours later here. We call the phenomenon ‘jet lag’, and it can be quite disorienting.”

“Do you mean to say that I somehow lost five hours from my life during that flight? What kind of evil magic is that?”

Abdel appeared flustered, not knowing how to respond, but Ivan chuckled and answered, “It’s not magic, and you will get those five hours back when you make the return trip. Although, that can be just as disorienting. It mucks around your sense of time and your sleep cycle, no way around it. It can take a few days to get back into sync with the world around you.”

Trixie frowned but accepted that explanation, and turned her attention to the car windows once again. They’d left the city and major highways behind, now traveling through a green countryside that looked far more inviting. She was surprised when she began to spot buildings with thatched rooftops and stone chimneys, much like those common in the smaller towns of Equestria.

Their car turned down a narrow country lane bounded with hedgerows, so picturesque that — aside from the black asphalt paving — Trixie could almost imagine they’d taken a wrong turn and somehow ended up back in Equestria. She glanced at the farm fields, half expecting to see earth ponies working them. The car slowed further to let a brown hare hop out of the path. After a time they came to an iron gate, which swung open (as if by magic, Trixie thought), and an attendant waved them through.

Farmland was replaced by manicured gardens, and they were brought to a stately country house. They climbed out of the car, and a couple of servants quickly showed up to help with the luggage.

An elegantly dressed couple also came out of the house and approached. The gentleman who greeted them was a stocky, middle-aged man wearing a dark suit, a trim mustache and a monocle over his left eye. He grinned and stepped forward, and said, “Good evening, my friends! Welcome!”

“We’re glad to have arrived intact, Lord Peter” Ivan said.

“Indeed. You’ve been through the wars today, I daresay. We’ll soon set that right. All the amenities of my humble mansion are at your disposal.” He felt a tugging at his elbow, and the lady by his side cleared her throat softly. Lord Peter nodded and continued, “Ah yes. Gentlemen, you might recognize my companion, the lovely Miss Florence Duflot. Florence, may I introduce Mister Abdel Youssef? He has organized our recruiting efforts to marvelous effect. And this robust gentleman is our geomancer, Ivan McGregor. He’ll be in charge of the work at Castlerigg.” Then he turned his attention to Trixie. “Ahh… And this little unicorn surely is the mare of the hour.”

Trixie knew that was her cue. She reared up on her hind legs, bringing herself somewhat closer to human stature and announced, “I am the Great and Powerful Trixie, the most magical unicorn in all of Equestria!”

Florence squealed and tightened her grip on Lord Peter’s arm, and said, “Ooh, she’s adorable!”

Trixie dropped to all fours and shot a piercing glare at the woman for an instant, as adorable hadn’t been the impression she was striving for. Their host distracted her by clapping his hands. “Bravo!” he exclaimed. “Madame Trixie, I am Lord Peter Feathering-Walthamstone, and it was at my behest that you were hired. I must say I’m sorry you’ve had such a rough introduction to England. These are trying times for so many… However, I shall endeavor to make the remainder of your stay pleasant.”

“Trixie appreciates your hospitality, Lord Peter.”

“Come now, let us retire indoors! You are all my guests, and your comfort is my paramount concern.”

Trixie found the interior of Feathering-Walthamstone Manor was, much like the surrounding countryside, a mixture of the familiar and unfamiliar. It was appointed in luxurious styles of decor and furniture resembling the upper class mansions of Equestria, of which Trixie had some limited experience. However, everything seemed stretched vertically to about double its normal height, giving Trixie the uncomfortable feeling of being a midget, or of having regressed to the form of a small filly.

The advanced electronic devices that were so prevalent in human society seemed at first to be absent, but Trixie soon spotted many of them cleverly concealed in the furnishings. In her guest room she found a large television screen built into the wall, though she had no idea how to operate it.

Trixie unpacked some of her belongings, including her all-important hat and cape. Then she curled up on the bed and tried to rest, although with limited success. Some while later one of the house staff knocked and roused her, and conveyed an invitation to supper with her host.

The evening meal — even though it felt like early afternoon to Trixie — was a congenial affair, with Abdel, Ivan and Florence partaking as well. The kitchen staff had taken care to prepare food suitable for a pony, and Trixie could find no fault with it. Trixie’s deft magical manipulation of her eating utensils drew favorable comments. Lord Peter insisted upon hearing a detailed account of the mob’s attack and how Trixie had repulsed it — a request that Trixie was only too happy to fulfill. She stood upright in her chair, thumping the tabletop and gesturing with her front hooves as story grew with its telling.

“…and then a final crash of magically summoned thunder and lightning sent the terrorists fleeing for their miserable lives, vanquished by the Great and Powerful Trixie!”

Her audience applauded. If Abdel or Ivan were bothered by her embellishments, they gave no indication. Florence, in particular, seemed entranced by Trixie’s account. After the tale was done, and Trixie settled back into her seat at the table, Florence said, “I’ve done action scenes, of course, but it’s hardly the same. In the movies we have green screens and stunt doubles. When we were filming the Ringworld movie, almost everything was done in front of a green screen, and I had to imagine the aliens that I was supposed to be reacting to. I’ve never been through a real-life adventure like that.”

Trixie beamed. She was in her element. “Trixie has faced many dangers and witnessed many wonders in her travels across the face of Equestria. It is no life for the faint-hearted, but Trixie was born for adventure!”

Lord Peter said, “You’ve surely made a splash with your arrival. That brings to mind the question of your upcoming performance. I had in mind a gathering of perhaps two dozen friends and associates. I wonder how soon you could make ready?”

She thought for a moment and then ventured, “I left all of my larger properties behind with my van. To put on a show worthy of the journey will require replacing several of them. I need to find local sources for those items. I shall also need some time to rehearse. A couple of weeks, perhaps?”

Lord Peter nodded agreement. “That seems fair enough. Let’s plan on that, shall we?”

Florence said, “Please do keep me apprised, dear! I wouldn’t miss it.”

“I should make it back for that as well,” Ivan added.

After supper Trixie still felt unsettled by the day’s events and also by her body’s confused internal clock. Tired, but unlikely to sleep for a while, she decided to take a stroll around the estate’s garden grounds. Although she had no fine eye for gardens, she could tell it was arranged with care and well-maintained. She found a cozy, wooded area with a small pond, where she lay on the grass and allowed herself to meditate for a little while and try to forget about how far from home she was.

Meditation is a technique learned by all unicorns with any aspiration to magical talent. The goal is to reduce all thought — both conscious and unconscious — to a minimum, thus resting the mind and replenishing magical reserves. A truly skilled unicorn could meditate even when surrounded by noise and activity. On this day, however, Trixie’s thoughts wandered.

She wondered about her employer and The Golden Dawn. None of her traveling companions had talked about it much, and she’d been reluctant to ask. She still didn’t know what it stood for. She had worried at first that it was somehow associated with the pony-hating Human Liberation Front. Clearly The Golden Dawn was a human organization, but everything else she’d seen argued against any HLF connection. All the humans she’d met had been friendly, and Abdel had even suggested the HLF as a suspect in the mob’s attack. That attack could perhaps have been staged — but if so, it was an elaborate production for the sake of one little unicorn.

A connection with HLF’s opposite, Ponyfication for Equestria’s Rebirth, also seemed unlikely. The PER was dominated by newfoals, but Trixie hadn’t yet seen a single one in the company of The Golden Dawn. Ivan’s cryptic comments about not planning to be converted likewise flew in the face of an organization with the avowed mission of forcibly converting all humans.

The best clue Trixie had seen was the symbol on the side of the jet, the peculiar, stylized eye interposed upon a golden sun. It was highly suggestive, yet hard to interpret. The sun looked so much like Princess Celestia’s cutie mark — was it mere coincidence, or did they intend to somehow overthrow or replace her? Or, for that matter, did they worship her? Trixie was familiar with “hero worship”, but humans seemed to imbue the word with a very different meaning. Lord Peter Feathering-Walthamstone did not give the impression of one leading a Princess Celestia fan club.

Trixie glanced toward the sun, now sinking low, its warm orange light filtering through the trees. It was nice. Then Trixie looked up and blinked with confusion. The moon was up! A pale half-moon was already high in the sky, even as the sun approached the horizon. Trixie was on her feet in a moment, gawping upward at the impossible sight. How could the sun and moon both be in the sky at the same time?

Oh yeah… This was another world. The sun and moon followed their own rules here, controlled by no princess. As she watched, clouds scudded across the sky — propelled only by the wind, with no pegasus ponies to guide them — and they passed across the face of the moon, obscuring it. Trixie shivered. Only in a few wild-and-dangerous places in Equestria, such as the feared Everfree Forest, did the clouds and sky dance to their own chaotic tune.

Trixie no longer found comfort in the garden. She returned to the mansion, resolving to ask someone for help with the TV. Maybe she could see that movie Florence had mentioned.

The next morning, at breakfast, Trixie learned that Abdel and Ivan would be leaving forthwith. Abdel would return to America for some further recruiting, and Ivan was proceeding to Castlerigg. Florence, however, offered to help Trixie with the preparations for her act.

After breakfast, Trixie and Florence went to Lord Peter’s library. Trixie eyed the many shelves filled with heavy tomes. She said, “I didn’t know humans still used books like these. I thought you used your interwebs for everything.”

“Tradition is valued here,” Florence replied, “and I’m sure Lord Peter has many rare volumes that have never been scanned into a computer. However, most business is conducted by telephone or over the internet these days. So, we’ll be going online to find what you need. Didn’t you mention needing fireworks? Those are heavily regulated for safety. I’m sure we’ll need a professional to set that up for us.”

“I am a professional! I’ve been setting up my own fireworks for years.”

“Oh? Be that as it may, you’re not accredited in England. No, we must find a pyrotechnic specialist. I’ll bet some of my friends in the movie business could point us in the right direction.” She pulled a compact computer from her handbag.

Soon Florence was navigating freely through Google, Facebook, Twitter, web pages and email, as Trixie looked on in profound befuddlement. During her magical training she’d had to deal with plenty of egghead unicorns and their seemingly impenetrable jargon, and she’d mastered as much of it as she absolutely had to. None of it compared with the way humans lapsed into gibberish as soon as they began talking about computers. The most frustrating aspect was that nothing about the devices was secret. Every human seemed willing — sometimes eager — to demonstrate and explain how they worked, but for the pony it felt much like pounding her head against a brick wall.

Despite Trixie’s uncertainty, Florence was optimistic, and they agreed to meet again in the afternoon to review any replies that had come back. With time on her hooves, Trixie browsed through Lord Peter’s books for a while, finding the collection highly eclectic. Books of history filled the largest section, followed by reference and technical works, then books of myth and folklore. Trixie found practical and utilitarian books next to ones of eccentric subject matter. Fiction, however, occupied only a small section.

Then Trixie stumbled across a weighty tome titled The Book of the Dead. Morbid curiosity compelled her to levitate it over to a table and open to a random page. At the top half of each page was pictographic writing of an exotic type Trixie had never seen before, and below was an English translation. Trixie read:

Every god feareth thee, for thou art exceedingly great and terrible; thou [avengest] every god on the man who curseth him, and thou shootest arrows at him. Thou livest according to thy will. Thou art Uatchet, the Lady of Flame, evil befalleth those who set themselves up against thee.

Trixie bit her lip and read the passage again. She felt the most eerie impression that she hadn’t turned to this page by accident. It almost seemed as though the book was trying to send her a message, or a warning. Unsettled, she put it back on the shelf and departed the library.

The Show Goes On

It was the following evening when Lord Peter cornered Trixie in the drawing room. He was all smiles as he announced, “I have some exciting news: the Nisut is coming. She heard about your arrival and has decided to pay us a visit.”

Trixie blinked and peered up at him. “Nisut?”

“She’s the supreme leader of our order. She was planning to visit in a few weeks but decided to accelerate her schedule. She’ll be here in two days, and she’s keen on meeting you and seeing a demonstration of your magic.”

Trixie felt a stone sinking in her belly. She hopped off the divan where she’d been resting. “Two days? Demonstration? You can’t be serious. I can’t be ready to perform in two days.”

Lord Peter’s smile dissolved, and he reproved, “Trixie! One does not simply say no to the Nisut. It’s critical that you make a favorable impression. You’ll just have to improvise as best you can with an abbreviated performance.”

“But… but… I don’t have any fireworks! I don’t have my props! I’ve been making arrangements, it’s been going well. Maybe in a week I could have something, but not in two days.”

Lord Peter pursed his lips for a moment, as if sucking on a lemon drop, then, without warning, reached forward and touched his fingertip to the end of Trixie’s horn. She jerked her head away, startled by the breach of etiquette. One does not touch a unicorn’s horn that way. Lord Peter said, “I see you brought the most important item. Our dear leader wishes to see unicorn magic. You can cast spells, can you not?”

“Well… Yes, but…”

“Then it’s settled. Think of it as a new challenge for the Great and Powerful Trixie! I have every confidence that you’ll rise to the occasion.”

Trixie muttered, “Every confidence.” She felt stunned.

“That’s the spirit. I’ll let you get on with your preparations, then.” He departed with haste, not giving her a chance to formulate any further objections.

After he was gone, Trixie stood still for a while, though her mind was whirling. After some time she began pacing the floor as she muttered to herself, “Two days. What can I do in two days? No fireworks. No Cabinet of Doom. No Magic Mirror. And so many of my routines depend on audience abuse that this high class crowd would never tolerate. I thought I’d have time to work out new routines.”

She sat down on her haunches and announced to the empty room, “Card tricks!” Then she buried her face in her hooves. “Heaven help me, what am I saying? I can’t do card tricks for the high mucky-muck! This is a disaster.”

She wondered what would happen if she flubbed this. She’d already been paid — but what if Lord Peter demanded his money back? All the stories she’d heard about human callousness and cruelty rushed through her mind. What would happen if they tossed her out on the street? How would she get back home? What if they didn’t even let her leave? If the Nisut was offended, would they lock Trixie in a dungeon?

Sometime later, after her initial wave of panic had subsided, she took some time to pen a letter to Autumn Flare and told about all that had transpired thus far. Trixie didn’t mention her misgivings. She would give Autumn the impression that everything was going splendidly. If Trixie’s worst imaginings came to pass, however, at least somepony back in Equestria would have a clue where to start looking for her. She hoped she could trust Florence to drop the letter in the post.

That done, Trixie threw herself into practice and preparation. She might fail in front of the Nisut, but it wouldn’t be for lack of trying.

Two days later, Trixie was tired and frazzled, but at least she had a program planned out and the basic items she needed to carry it through. As it happened, the estate’s gardens sported a small amphitheater, which Trixie had gotten decked out with a basic stage and curtain. Engaged as she was in making sure all her hastily-assembled properties were in order, Trixie missed the morning arrival of the Nisut. Trixie made a deliberate strategy of avoiding the Nisut before the show and begged off opportunities to join the guests at lunch. She didn’t need any distractions now; she wanted her performance on stage to be her first impression.

Trixie had recruited a few of the mansion’s staff to assist, and one of them poked his head behind the curtain to let her know the guests had all arrived and were beginning to take their seats. She thanked him, levitated her wizard hat onto her head, and walked to the center of the stage where she listened to the muffled conversations filtering through the curtain. After a few moments she cast a spell; like a one-way mirror, the closed curtain in front of her became transparent to her eyes, though not to her audience of more than a score of humans on the other side. Ivan McGregor was visible, and Trixie also could see Lord Peter up front with Florence sitting close by his right hand and another lady on his left. Could that be the Nisut? Trixie peered more closely, blinked, and gawped. That wasn’t a human!

The figure Trixie gazed upon was not, in fact, any species she recognized from Equestria or from Earth. Its body was a puzzling mixture of human and feline features. Its shape overall was like that of a human female, and its clothing and flowing black hair were of human style, but its head and face resembled a spotted jungle cat. The prominent muzzle and nose, whiskers, and the ears poking out through its hair all were feline. Its eyes were large and bright golden color with vertically slit pupils. Trixie also noticed a long tail curled around by the strange being’s side, spotted with black-and-white rings near the tip, which swished lazily. The feline chatted with Lord Peter. Both of them seemed at ease as they shared a laugh over some presumably witty comment — and Trixie got a glimpse of the feline’s predatory fangs.

Trixie bit her lip and pondered. She had heard that humans were the only intelligent race in their world. She hadn’t heard anything about cat people. She snorted and shook off the mystery. The show had to go on, and the audience was getting restless. She dispelled the transparency effect from the curtain and cast a new spell. Clouds began to gather overhead, darkening the stage. The air cooled, and wisps of fog drifted about the stage.

Trixie moved to the side and called out loudly, “Come one, come all! Come and witness the amazing magic of the Grrreat and Powerful Trrrixiiie!” Her magical aura engulfed the curtains and opened them, revealing the stage. Another spell activated the magic powder she had left in the middle of the stage, causing it to explode into a cloud of sparkling, purple smoke. With perfect timing, she leapt into the middle of the stage, the motion concealed by the smoke. As the cloud cleared, it appeared to the audience as though she’d teleported onto the stage.

“Watch in awe as the Great and Powerful Trixie performs the most amazing feats of magic ever witnessed!” She reared upright on her hind legs and threw her front hooves wide. A subtle flick of magic switched on the lasers at either side of the stage. Trixie hadn’t been able to get fireworks on short notice, but Florence had suggested the human invention as an expedient alternative. Their colorful beams traced frantic patterns through the fog and clouds that Trixie had summoned.

Trixie reflexively paused a moment, waiting for the rush of applause that usually came at this point in her act. As if on cue, a cricket chirped. Holding the pose, she turned an eye toward the audience — only to be caught in the other eye by an errant laser beam. “Gaah!” She stumbled and fell onto her rump, as she clamped the side of her foreleg against her eye.

Murmurs rose from the audience as Trixie blinked, seeing little more than a swath of red after-image in the offended eye. She closed both eyes for a moment, wondering if this was some sort of nightmare. Then she opened her eyes and stood up on all fours. A spark of magic switched off the lasers, and she levitated her wizard hat and set it aside, revealing her glowing horn. Bringing a hoof to her chest she said, loudly, “Trixie may stumble, but she never falls! Prepare to be amazed!”

From the audience came the sound of someone clapping. Trixie turned her good eye to see that it was Lord Peter. Following his lead, several others in the audience joined him in brief, polite applause. It wasn’t much, but to Trixie it seemed as though a weight had been lifted from her back.

“Conjuration!”

Trixie waved her hooves in the air as a purple glow appeared in front of her, then a bouquet of flowers popped into existence. Smiling, she levitated the bouquet closer, clutching it with her hooves and making a dramatic gesture of sniffing at the flowers.

“Transformation!”

Trixie tossed the bouquet, scattering the flowers in the air above her head. With purple flashes and puffs of smoke they turned into colorful croquet balls.

“Manipulation!”

The balls formed into a neatly spaced ring and began spinning, chasing one another as the whole ring tilted gracefully, all wrapped in the purple aura of Trixie’s magic. This trick was the magical equivalent of juggling, requiring skill, concentration, and — unfortunately for Trixie — depth perception. Her injured eye betrayed her, and within seconds she’d lost control of the croquet balls, which rained down upon the stage.

Concerned murmurs rose from the audience again. Face burning, Trixie almost wished they would laugh at her instead. She squeezed her eyes shut and told herself she was a professional. She wasn’t a foal, she wouldn’t break down and cry. The show must go on. There was a quaver in her voice when she opened her eyes and called out…

“Projection!”

A bright orange-yellow star flew from Trixie’s horn. It zipped above the stage following a circular path and left a comet-like trail of light, painting a fiery yellow ring.

“And control over the elements themselves!”

The clouds that had earlier gathered above the stage began to disperse, leaving a rainbow hanging in the sky where sunlight filtered through the mist. Suddenly the rainbow came to life and arced down onto the stage, then wrapped itself into another ring, joining the ring of fire above the stage. Trixie reared up again, repeating her dramatic pose. At this point in her act she would, under normal circumstances, have triggered a burst of fireworks — but she’d be damned if she was going to turn those lasers on again.

From the audience came polite applause. The Nisut leaned over to say something to Lord Peter, who shook his head in response. It was a tough crowd. Trixie gritted her teeth. She would get through this.

She got through it. The curtain closed, the applause faded, and Trixie deflated. Her tail drooped. Her ears drooped. Her mane drooped. She was no longer worried about being thrown in a dungeon; a dark hole to crawl into would seem pretty good now. Not having an oubliette handy, she decided to settle for slinking back to her room in the mansion and locking the door. She made her way slowly, carefully avoiding the other guests who likewise made their way back to the manor house.

In her room she put away her hat and cape, and she curled up on the bed, buried her face between her front legs, and wallowed in misery, trying to forget about her jet-lagged, exhausted, half-blinded performance without any of her best props and routines.

After a short while somebody knocked on the door. Trixie ignored the sound. The knock sounded again. She yelled, “Go away! Leave Trixie alone!”

“Trixie? It’s me, Florence. Please let me in!”

Trixie sighed and rolled upright on the bed, and reached out with her magic to unlock the door and swing it open.

Florence peeked in warily, then slipped through the door and closed it behind her. She went to the bed and sat beside Trixie, and gently stroked her mane. “Are you all right?” she asked.

“That was a disaster.”

“Your show? Oh, no, no, no — no, not at all! It wasn’t a disaster. It had character. It was authentic.”

Trixie sighed again. “I can’t see out of my right eye.”

Florence’s eyes went wide. “What happened? The laser? I thought those were supposed to be safe.”

Trixie waved a hoof in front of her eye and shrugged. “I guess not.”

“Do you need a doctor? You should have it looked at.”

“It’s not urgent. If it doesn’t get better, I can have it healed later.”

Florence reached over and gently scratched behind Trixie’s ear. Trixie closed her eyes and smiled, despite herself, and lowered her head to rest on the covers. Florence grinned and said, “I see that still works, at least. And I didn’t think your show was a disaster. In fact, the Nisut wants to meet you.”

Trixie grumbled, “For what? To put me in a petting zoo?”

“Don’t be like that! Come on, pull yourself together! You’ve done the hard part; things can only get better from here. She just wants to talk with you. Or should I tell her the Great and Powerful Trixie is too busy sulking?”

“Tempting idea,” Trixie muttered. However, she sat upright and said more loudly, “The Great and Powerful Trixie shall not disappoint her adoring fans.” Her horn glowed and she conjured a handkerchief, wiped her eyes and blew her nose, then dismissed the cloth in a puff of magic. She levitated her hat and cape to her, and said, “Trixie would be grateful if you would stay nearby for a while, though.”

Florence nodded. “Of course. Lord Peter is waiting for us in the drawing room. Come on, I’ll show you the way.”

As they walked, Trixie asked, “I saw the Nisut in the audience. What is she?”

“Nobody told you about that? She’s genetically engineered to be partly human, partly feline.”

“That was done with technology? Not magic?”

“Yes. Do ponies ever do anything like that with magic?”

Trixie lowered her head, along with her voice. “Long ago we did, using morphogenic spells. Renegade unicorns created monsters to fight in the Wizard Wars. That’s where griffins came from, and minotaurs, and manticores. Those spells have been forbidden for centuries.”

Florence nodded. “Genetic engineering of humans is illegal in most of this world too — but not everywhere. In any event, it wasn’t her decision to be made the way she is.”

They entered the drawing room, where they found a modest cocktail reception underway. The same guests who’d watched Trixie’s performance now mingled and conversed. Ivan was one of the first to notice Trixie and wave her over. She glanced at Florence, uncertain about whether she needed to go directly to meet the Nisut, but Florence nodded and led the way as the two of them joined Ivan and the others he’d been talking with. Foremost was an imposingly tall man with a mass of brown curls for hair, who wore a brown coat and an absurdly long woolen scarf that he apparently couldn’t be bothered to remove upon coming indoors. With him was a younger man in a dark blue uniform, and a slender, brown-haired young woman. Ivan began the introductions, gesturing to each in turn. “Trixie, I’d like for you to meet the Doctor and his traveling companions. The gentleman in uniform is Dr. Harry Sullivan of the Royal Navy, and the young lady is Sarah Jane Smith.”

Trixie replied, “Trixie is pleased to make your acquaintances.” She looked up at the tall man. “Err, Doctor… who? Trixie did not catch your name.”

Before he could answer, Florence put a hand on Trixie’s withers and said, “You mustn’t inquire, dear. The Doctor is traveling incognito. However, we might take the opportunity to ask for an opinion on your eye.” She looked to the others and explained, “One of the lasers caught her in the right eye.”

The taller, more anonymous of the two doctors demurred, saying in a deep voice, “Well, I’m no medical man; my doctorate is purely honorary. Perhaps Surgeon-Lieutenant Sullivan could take a look at it?”

Harry said, “I’ll do my best. I’ve never examined any small, colorful equines before, though. Falls a bit outside of my training, it does. Would anyone have a penlight?” The Doctor fished one out of a coat pocket and handed it over. Harry knelt by Trixie and shined the light in her eye, carefully noting the response. “Any pain then?” he asked.

“No,” Trixie answered. Her sensitive ears picked up a whispered conversation between Sarah and Florence. “She’s adorable!” one gushed. “I know!” the other almost squealed. Trixie gritted her teeth.

“Has your vision started returning at all?” Harry asked.

Trixie blinked. “Yes, I can see a bit. Everything looks red, though.”

Harry stood up and said, “It seems pony eyes are more light-sensitive than human eyes, but the indications are temporary flash blindness. I expect she’ll be right as rain come tomorrow.”

“That’s a relief,” Trixie said. “I was worried I’d have to get healing magic cast on it.”

Harry blinked. “Healing magic? Now that’s something I should look into. Can you heal yourself?”

Trixie shook her head. “That is a specialized category of magic I never studied. Even if I had, it’s difficult for a unicorn to cast healing upon herself.”

Sarah quirked a mischievous smile and spoke up, “Doctor, weren’t you just telling us a while ago how there’s really no such thing as magic?”

“What?” Trixie exclaimed, her ears perking up. “My performance should have put paid to that.”

The Doctor cleared his throat and answered, “I meant in a purely supernatural sense, of course. This phenomenon that you call magic has an underlying scientific explanation. Magic is nothing more or less than knowing how to do something that the other party does not. Given your mastery of stagecraft, you should understand that better than most, I imagine.”

Mollified by the compliment, Trixie replied mildly, “Your point is taken, but if there’s any connection between thaumaturgy and science, it’s beyond my ken.”

The Doctor flashed a toothy grin. “I understand. I’ve had some stimulating discussion of this subject with Ivan as well.”

Ivan nodded. “We agreed to disagree. I asked our Nisut if she could settle the matter, but she got all mysterious and refused to take sides. Said we could both be right or both be wrong, and it’s all a matter of perspective.”

“Well, there’s a true leader for you,” quipped Harry. “She could be a Member of Parliament.” The other humans chuckled good-naturedly.

Florence said, “Speaking of which, I believe our dear leader wants to meet Trixie. We’d better not keep her waiting any longer. If you would excuse us?” They did so, and Florence led Trixie across the room to where Lord Peter and the feline lady were conversing, while Maikel Nabil looked on silently. Trixie hadn’t seen him since her plane ride, and she didn’t recall him ever saying a word. Even now his gaze wandered about the room, paying attention to everything except the conversation in front of him. Trixie decided he must be a bodyguard.

Lord Peter grinned upon catching sight of them. “Trixie, it’s about time you were able to meet our Nisut! Allow me to present the supreme leader of The Golden Dawn, The Living Heru, Right Eye of Ra, First Primate of all Kemet, Living Image of the Goddess, the lady Tutankhbast!”

Now Trixie had a close-up view of the Nisut. Dressed in white denim jeans and a coat of royal purple, she gave the impression more of a trendy jet-setter than the leader of a cult. She flashed a smile, but the combination of large fangs and slit-pupil eyes — cat’s eyes, serpent’s eyes, dragon’s eyes — triggered an instinctive response in Trixie. She froze, eyes wide and ears folded low, unable to speak.

The Nisut’s smile faded and she said, “Lord Peter, it seems all those titles have frightened this little pony.” She dropped to one knee, bringing herself down to Trixie’s level, and extended a gloved hand. “I would like to be your friend, Trixie. Please feel free to call me Katrina.” Her voice sounded so normal, so composed, it belied her exotic looks.

Trixie swallowed her fear and managed to lift a hoof for Katrina to shake. “I-I’m honored to meet you, Katrina.” She glanced at the glove, wondering if it concealed claws.

“I watched your show with keen interest, Trixie.”

“It wasn’t my best!” Trixie blurted. “I’m sorry, you deserved a better performance.”

Katrina smiled softly and shook her head. “Don’t worry about a few missteps. I noticed you cast at least five different categories of spells. That’s impressive. Most unicorns can’t come close to that.”

Trixie rubbed one foreleg against the other. “Yes. Magic itself is my special talent. Most unicorn ponies don’t even bother to study magic past the basics.”

Katrina gestured towards a couch. “Trixie, would you come and sit with me for a little while? There is something I would like to discuss.”

“O-okay.” Trixie followed and hopped onto the couch, and sat on her haunches, while Katrina adopted a human pose. Lord Peter took a chair nearby, but Mr. Nabil remained standing, still watching over the room and subtly turning away anyone who might try to intrude on Katrina’s conversation.

When they were comfortable Katrina said, “As you know, The Golden Dawn recruits talented individuals from Equestria. We play no favorites. We’ve taken ponies, griffins and gnolls. A truly talented unicorn mage such as yourself, however, has been difficult to acquire. Most are well-settled in their professions, and those that come through the Barrier are almost invariably employed by the Conversion Bureaus. It would please me greatly if I can convince you to stay on with us.”

Ah. This was business. In moments Trixie shifted from nervous to hard-nosed. “Stay on in what capacity? I still know very little of your organization.”

“I would be happy to explain. Thousands of years ago our world had its own natural magic. Great monuments were built to tap into this flow of magical power between earth and sky. It was channeled through ley lines and distributed across the globe, linking distant lands together with a vast network of etherial energies. However, a natural cataclysm obliterated one of the most important hubs of this network, and its power waned. Science began to replace magic as the doctrine of mankind, and the ley lines were abandoned to time and mischance. This, we believe, is the reason why the Equestrian Barrier is engulfing our world. With the Earth’s own magic dormant and forgotten, and your world flooded with magic, the imbalance creates a pressure that inflates the Barrier like air in a balloon.”

Monuments. Trixie recalled her conversation with Ivan about restoring ancient monuments, and the stone circle she’d seen on his computer. “You want to rebuild that magical network?”

Katrina nodded. “At least partially. If we can reawaken the Earth’s magic, it will push back against the Barrier, and the human species will no longer face extinction. Conversion will become an option rather than a compulsion, and our culture and civilization can remain intact.”

Trixie licked her lips. She knew she had to be tactful. She said, “Ponies have already tried to stop the barrier with spells. Our best unicorns, and even the princesses, couldn’t figure out a way to slow it. They said it’s impossible.”

Katrina nodded. “Yes, they tried. If I’m right, any spell they cast would only make things worse, like adding fuel to a fire. So, now it’s our turn to try doing it our way.”

“What about me? Where do I fit into this plan?”

“Magic is almost a lost art among humans. Even in ancient times we never had a unicorn’s natural ability to sense and direct its energy. Now we are on the clock, trying to recreate a millennia of magic in only a few short years. We need help. We need a unicorn who can, at the very least, sense the flow of luminiferous ether and tell us when we are successfully gathering and directing it. We’ve tried newfoal unicorns, we’ve tried to recruit other unicorns from Equestria, but none of them were able to help us. None of them had your facility with magic. You’re our best hope, Trixie.”

Trixie frowned. “I’m not sure if that will work. If Earth’s magic is so different from Equestria’s, maybe they aren’t compatible at all, and I can’t use it or even sense it.”

Katrina shrugged easily. “There’s only one way to find out. We can’t leave any stone unturned in this effort. It’s do or die for us, Trixie. We just don’t all want to become ponies.”

Lord Peter commented, “Indeed. Can you even imagine me turned into a cute little pony?”

“Hardly!” said Florence, who had moved to Lord Peter’s side during the course of the conversation, still standing but resting her hand upon his shoulder. “Or myself, for that matter? The very idea hardly bears contemplating.”

Trixie fidgeted. She didn’t want to insult Katrina, or the others for that matter, but this had to be said. “I’m just… It’s a lot to take in. We’ve been told your world doesn’t have any magic at all, and that the barrier is unstoppable. I’m just not convinced it’s possible.”

Katrina fixed her large, feline eyes on Trixie. “A very wise human being named Margaret Mead once said: Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed people can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has.” She leaned closer to Trixie and said, “The decision is yours. You are free to return to your wagon and your street corner performances, relieving newfoals of their pocket change — or, if you prefer, the Great and Powerful Trixie can join us in changing the world.”

There was only one possible answer to that. Trixie took a deep breath and said, “I’ll try. I’m with you.”

Rock Farming

As they continued their conversation, Katrina had assured Trixie that it was not necessary for her to join The Golden Dawn as an initiate. Rather, Trixie would work under Lord Peter as a paid consultant. (“Does that make you the world’s only consulting unicorn?” Florence had joked, but Trixie didn’t understand the reference.) Whatever doubts Trixie may have had about her mission, she was being well compensated in gold for her time and efforts.

Before the end of the next day, Trixie found herself in the scenic — surprisingly mountainous — Lake District of Cumbria. Ivan had brought her to a farm just a short ways outside the market town of Keswick. The Low Nest Farm, as it was somewhat puzzlingly named, featured a bed-and-breakfast inn which, Ivan explained, had become a temporary headquarters to the Castlerigg project. As they arrived he waved a hand indicating a nearby country lane, and said, “There is Castle Lane, and it’s only a short walk up to the stone circle. We’ll get you settled in here tonight, and then I can show you around the site in the morning.”

Upon entering the farmhouse, Ivan led Trixie to the office where he found the manager, a pear-shaped, gray-haired lady. Upon catching sight of Trixie she squealed, “Oh how adorable!” Before Trixie could respond or say anything, the woman had begun stroking her mane as she cooed, “You’re a sweetie! Yes you are. What a good girl!”

Aghast, eyes wide, Trixie ducked her head and stepped back. “Trixie is not a dog!” she sputtered.

The woman froze for a moment, hand still suspended in the air, as she realized her mistake. She staggered back, mortified, and stammered, “I’m sorry! I just… It’s force of habit, really. I didn’t mean… Oh, I’m so very sorry!”

Trixie glared daggers at her while Ivan put a hand on her withers and tried to smooth things over. To the woman he said, “I’m sure you didn’t mean any disrespect. Mildred, this is the expert I told you about: Trixie Lulamoon, or the Great And Powerful Trixie as she is known in her profession. Trixie, this is Mildred; she’s the manager of the bed-and-breakfast facility.

Mildred said, “Miss Trixie, once again I am so sorry. I just haven’t met a pony before. Not face-to-face, I mean. I’ve got a guest room prepared for you, and I’ll do everything I can to make your stay here comfortable.” She forced a nervous smile.

Trixie’s glare had dimmed to a mere smolder. “Trixie will let you know if there is anything she requires.”

“Of course, of course! We also have a utility kitchen you can use, and a lounge with local guide books and maps. Breakfast is served in the dining room from 8:15 to 9.”

“Thank you!” said Trixie, although she tossed her head in the same dismissive manner that she’d seen from snooty Canterlot unicorns. It wouldn’t do for Mildred to think her behavior was completely forgiven.

Mildred led Trixie to her room, which had a television and some sort of electric coffee maker (neither of which Trixie had any idea how to operate), sofa, double bed, and a picture window. Trixie stood up on her hind legs, bracing her front hooves on the window sill as she gazed at the open fields and a mountain in the distance. Mildred noticed and said, “That mountain is Blencathra, although everyone called it Saddleback when I was small.”

“Saddleback…” Trixie echoed, as her eyes traced the mountain’s silhouette. “I can see that. Why did they change it?”

“Blencathra was the original old Cumbrian name for it. It sounds more romantic, I suppose. It translates roughly as: bare mountain shaped like a chair. Ah well, it’s something to sit on either way.”

Trixie’s eyes went wide for a moment and then she blushed and muttered to herself, “yeah… because humans sit on saddles.”

“What was that, dearie?”

“uhh… Nothing! Trixie was merely practicing a cantrip. It is nothing that need concern you.”

Mildred took the hint and left Trixie to unpack her belongings and settle in. Looking around the room, she noticed a vinyl mat in one corner with a pair of stainless steel bowls, empty and clean. Were those dog bowls? Grumbling, she opened her steamer trunk and levitated her hat and cape onto the oversized (or really, human-sized) bed. A strange object on the pillow caught her eye. She levitated it, bringing it over for a closer look. It seemed to be a sheet of tough, thick, pale material knotted at either end to resemble the shape of a bone. Trixie sniffed it and frowned. She wasn’t sure what it was made of, but it looked an awful lot like a chew toy for dogs. With a snort of disgust, she tossed it into one of the steel bowls. “TRIXIE IS NOT A DOG!” she yelled, on the off chance that Mildred was still somewhere within earshot.

After unpacking, she ventured out to the lounge. She noticed several plaques on the wall, but they were mounted too high up for her to easily read. Curiosity getting the better of her, she lit her horn with magic, plucked a plaque off the wall and floated it down to her eye level. “Kennel Club”, she read aloud. “Open For Dogs Award, 2031. Well, that explains a few things.”

Trixie floated the plaque up to its place on the wall, but after several attempts to get it hooked on the nail she decided it wasn’t worth the effort, and she laid it flat on the table. There she turned her attention, and her magical grasp, to some of the guide books. Flipping through them, she was struck by the quality of the paper and printing. Coated paper and full-color illustrations and photographs were rare in Equestria. There were plenty of photos of nearby hills and valleys, and the quaint buildings of nearby Keswick, along with a color map and descriptions of various activities and tourist attractions.

There was a photograph of the Castlerigg Stone Circle, which Trixie instantly recognized from the rendering she’d seen before on Ivan’s computer. In the photo, irregular stones cast their shadows onto a smooth carpet of green grass. The structure was unlike anything she’d seen in Equestria, despite her wide travels.

She had barely started reading about it when Ivan came in, followed by a younger man, notable for his thin build, as well as his round-lensed glasses and bow tie. His eyes locked onto Trixie.

Ivan said, “Smithers, this is the newest member of our little team, our expert on unicorn magic, Trixie Lulamoon, also known as The Great and Powerful Trixie. Trixie, this is Smithers, our minder from the National Trust. He’s here to make sure that we don’t move so much as a spoonful of dirt without approvals signed and certified in triplicate.”

Trixie quirked an eyebrow. “National Trust? I don’t understand.”

The young man sighed and explained, “Firstly, my name is Andrew Smith. Ivan has taken to calling me Smithers, I assume on the theory that it would annoy me.” He took a deep breath before continuing. “The National Trust for Places of Historic Interest or Natural Beauty is responsible for protecting and preserving many historic sites, including the Castlerigg Stone Circle. And I have been, sadly, assigned to watch over the ignorant, blundering destruction of Castlerigg.”

Trixie blinked and glanced questioningly toward Ivan, who shook his head and retorted, “We’re not the Taliban, Smithers. We didn’t come here to dynamite England’s historic heritage.”

“Destruction is destruction, regardless of the superstition used to rationalize it.” Smithers looked to Trixie and said, “I’m sure it means nothing to you, miss unicorn, since this isn’t your country or even your world. I can assure you, though, that the National Trust would never allow this folly to proceed under remotely normal circumstances. Now apparently the higher-ups have been convinced — I have no idea how — that our situation is so dire and so desperate that we must gamble turning over our national treasures to these…” he glanced at Ivan, “…these charlatans, on the theory that they can somehow hold back The Barrier.”

As he caught his breath, Trixie imagined he must have been waiting some while to deliver that little speech, and perhaps even had rehearsed it. It was a pity he couldn’t deliver it to someone who actually made decisions about such matters. Well, it wasn’t Trixie’s concern. She asked, pointedly, “But they do, in fact, have permission to restore the stone circle, yes?”

Smithers ground his teeth as he replied with a grudging, “Yes. If you can call it restoration. That doesn’t mean you have carte blanche. I’ll be here to observe what is done and make sure the damage is kept to a minimum. If things get out of hand, I won’t hesitate to pull the plug on this ridiculous project.”

Trixie shrugged dismissively. “The Great and Powerful Trixie is here only as a consultant, to monitor the ebb and flow of magical energies, and will be happy to let you and Ivan work out other matters between yourselves.”

Smithers took off his glasses for a moment, rubbed his eyes and muttered, “magical energies…” Then he replaced them and said, “I’m sorry if I come on a bit strong with my opinions, Miss Trixie. I do take my job seriously, but I’ll not let my dim view of this enterprise color my thoughts toward you. In fact, you’re the first unicorn from Equestria proper that I’ve met. I hope we may find some free time to chat and satisfy my curiosity.”

“Perhaps,” she replied brusquely. “However, Trixie is tired from her travels and wishes to rest. Begone with you until morning!” She lifted a hoof and waggled it at him, as if shooing him away.

Smithers frowned. “I have a room here too, actually.”

She huffed and said, “Trixie meant that she will be resting in her room and does not want to be disturbed.” Then she stomped off to her room and slammed the door. After a few moments the door opened, and two steel bowls and a rawhide chew toy, glowing slightly with purple magic, came flying out of the room before the door slammed again.

Smithers rubbed his elbow and commented, “Not too keen on making friends, is she?”

“Oh, just give her some time.”

When morning came, Trixie went to join the others for their morning meal, but found herself confronted by a Full English Breakfast. She berated the staff until they came up with a vegetarian alternative (plus eggs). However, Ivan couldn’t resist explaining how black pudding was made, after which Trixie found her appetite badly impaired.

When they’d finished up, Smithers said, “If you’re driving up to the site this morning, I’d like to come along.”

Ivan answered, “I’m going to show Trixie around it, but we’ll walk.” He turned to Trixie and added, “We’re not hauling any gear up there, and it’s less than a mile. It should make for a pleasant morning stroll.”

Departing on foot from the farm, they walked alongside a short stretch of two-lane highway before turning onto Castle Lane, a narrow, paved road bordered by rock fences. As they walked, Ivan pointed out various aspects and features of their natural surroundings. “As you can see, Castlerigg is a sort of plateau with a wide open view of the mountains all around. It’s no wonder that the builders put their stone circle here. It’s a spectacular natural location for an outdoors meeting place.” He pointed at the horizon, working his way around. “That biggest mountain is Skiddaw. There’s Blencathra, Helvellyn, and there’s Grasmoor. These are some of the highest peaks in Cumbria. Skiddaw is the fourth highest mountain in England.”

Trixie was quite sure she’d never remember those odd, exotic-sounding names — with the possible exception of Blencathra, AKA Saddleback. She couldn’t un-see that mountain’s suggestive profile since the lady at the farmhouse had pointed it out.

As they passed a wide spot in the lane, Ivan turned to Smithers and said, “This is where the Roman camp was. That farmhouse just ahead is roughly at the center of it. So, we’re already within the camp’s boundary, I think.”

Smithers looked around in puzzlement. “The Roman camp you told me about before? I don’t see anything.”

Trixie looked around too, but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary: only very short green grass and some sheep in the distance. “What is a Roman camp?” she wondered.

Ivan moved closer to her and explained, “The Romans had one of the great empires of history. They partially conquered the British Isles. Cumbria was near the northern extent of the area they controlled. So, they set up a fort, or a marching camp as it were, on this ridge to try and pacify the natives. I’m convinced this camp is what Castlerigg was named for. Rigg is an old word for ridge, so castle ridge would be the ridge where the Romans had their fortress — although it was more of a temporary structure than a castle as such.”

“Is that why I don’t see any walls?”

He nodded. “That, and because the Romans were here almost two thousand years ago. The camp site was long buried and forgotten, nothing left but plowed fields until an archaeological survey turned it up. They were actually looking for a long-rumored second stone circle, but they stumbled on the camp’s boundary ditch instead.”

Trixie looked around again at the green fields and sheep grazing, and tried to imagine the passage of two thousand years. The Roman camp would have been here at roughly the time of first Hearth Warming of legend and the founding of Equestria, and before the princesses were born. Since crossing the Barrier, Trixie’s overwhelming impressions had been of advanced human technology and the newness of everything. Now she suddenly realized this was an old world, one with much history — perhaps more history than her own. She asked, “Did the Romans build the stone circle too?”

Both men chuckled, and Ivan answered, “Oh good heavens no! The stone circle was already a three thousand year old ruin by the time the Romans showed up.”

Trixie was so flabbergasted by that assertion that she stopped walking for a few moments, then had to break into a trot to catch up. Meanwhile, Ivan gestured toward the road and said, “The stone circle isn’t too far ahead; it’s in a field to the right.”

Soon Trixie could see that the field where the stone circle lay was enclosed in a rock fence with an opening at the corner where they could enter. As they approached the entrance, her eyes went wide and she gasped, and she yelled, “LOOK OUT! STOP!” Both men jumped, startled, and looked around in bewilderment. Trixie trotted forward a few steps and pointed with a fore hoof. “Ivan, there’s a pit! You were about to walk right into it.”

Both men looked where Trixie pointed, still blinking with confusion. Smithers said, “There’s no pit. It’s just some stripes painted on the ground. They were here before, but I never knew why.”

Trixie trotted up to the entrance, still staring at the ground. “You can’t see it? This must be some sort of magical trap. Somepony doesn’t want us here.”

“It’s a cattle guard,” Ivan clarified. “To a cow it looks like some sort of slots or holes that their feet might get trapped in, so they instinctively avoid stepping on it. Keeps them from getting out in the lane, you know.”

Trixie edged closer to the stripes and sniffed at them, then carefully stretched out a front foot to touch the road surface. She dragged her hoof across the paint, then scooted back. “What sorcery is this? I didn’t think humans had illusions!” She glared at the road, and her horn flared with magic. Her purple aura engulfed the surface as Trixie yelled, “WYSIWYG!” In an instant the magic flashed and then dissipated, but without any obvious effect. Trixie glared at the stripes and muttered, “That should have broken any illusion or transformation.”

Ivan laughed out loud, too overcome with mirth to answer at once. The sight of the Great and Powerful Trixie, Most Magical Unicorn in All of Equestria, stymied by painted stripes on a road was too much for him.

Meanwhile Smithers shook his head and said, “It looks like paint to me. I wonder why it looks different to Trixie?”

Getting his mirth under control, Ivan explained, “Ahah! Well, I think it has something to do with the way cow — and I guess pony — eyes work. They have better night vision, for example, but they may not see the subtle distinctions of color and contrast that we do.” Trixie scowled and her tail swished with frustration. Ivan grinned and added, “Trixie, supposing I painted a doorway on a wall, do you think you’d walk into it?”

“Trixie would never fall for that old trick!” the unicorn retorted.

Ivan guffawed. “Everything must look like a cartoon to you!” Trixie glared at him.

Smithers scratched his chin and mused, “I wonder why I’ve never heard about this from newfoals? You’d think they’d say something about vision changes. Maybe the conversion process helps them adapt, so they don’t even notice it?” He walked on across.

Ivan started to follow, but then glanced down at Trixie and offered, “Would you like for me to carry you over it?”

“NO! No, that won’t be necessary. Trixie can manage.” She reached forward a hoof onto the painted area, as though double-checking to make sure it really was a solid surface, then she scurried across. She looked back over her withers and released the breath she’d been holding. “There! Let us proceed, shall we?”

They walked out into the field, onto the short-cropped grass, among the stones and a scattering of orange survey markers. The stones were rough, irregular, some tall and some short, leaning in different directions. Ivan sat down on one of the shorter stones as if it were a stool. Trixie walked around, sniffed at a few of them, then came back to Ivan and said, “They’re rocks. Trixie sees nothing magical about them.”

“Oh…” Ivan scratched his chin. “Nothing, really?”

“Nothing. They look like they could be random stones turned up by a plow.” She glanced at a pair of tall standing stones and amended, “A giant plow, that is.”

Ivan quirked a mischievous smile and said, “Count them!” Trixie cocked her head questioningly. “Go on,” he urged her, “humor me! Walk around the circle and see how many stones you count!”

“Very well.” She began walking around the circle, slowly, carefully counting as she went. Upon making her way back to Ivan, she told him, “I count forty three stones.”

Still wearing his enigmatic smile, he nodded and said, “Now do it again! Count them a second time, just as before!”

“Is there a point to this?” she asked. Not getting any satisfactory answer, she grumbled and walked around the circle again. When she came back to Ivan, she blinked. “Did you move?” He shook his head, his grin only growing wider. She glanced around the circle and frowned. “I counted forty one that time. I must have missed a couple.”

“According to local legend, it’s impossible to count the stones of Castlerigg. You’ll get a different number every time you try.”

Trixie stared at Ivan for a moment. “That’s it? Is that supposed to convince me that there’s some kind of enchantment here?”

Smithers said, “Ivan is pulling your leg. The National Trust’s official count of the stones is forty. However, the builders originally secured the standing stones around their bases with smaller packing stones, some of which have been turned up and are now visible. Thus, the number you get depends on how many of the small ones you count. Oh, and there’s also an outlier stone about ninety meters…” he looked around and pointed, “…that-a-way, which may or may not have once been part of the circle. In any event, there’s nothing supernatural about it.”

Ivan shot a dark look at Smithers. “Now you’re just taking all the fun out of things.”

Smithers retorted, “Yes, facts and reason do tend to put a damper on your fairy tales.”

Trixie sat down on her haunches and gazed toward the horizon, noticing how sun and clouds cast mottled shadows onto the mountains and valleys below. The view was serenely beautiful, though eerie. Clouds did not move that way in Equestria. Her companions were likewise quiet.

“So…” Trixie eventually broke the silence. “I do not sense any magic: only the aching void that I’ve felt ever since entering your world.”

Smithers said, “Aching void? How can a void ache?”

Trixie narrowed her eyes at him. “Aside from a hollow tooth… Have you ever had a headache?”

Ivan snerked at that, stifling a giggle, but in a moment turned serious. “I was hoping you’d detect something right up front, give us some kind of reading to work with.”

Smithers said, “I suppose calling off the whole thing now would be too much to ask?”

“That’s not going to happen,” Ivan protested. “This is disappointing, but what really matters isn’t whether we have magic at the beginning, but whether we have magic when we’re done. And besides that, Trixie’s only just arrived here. It’s hardly fair to expect her to saunter around the stones for five minutes and then declare victory. It’s a subtle thing. We’re in uncharted territory; it’s going to take some time to figure out.”

Trixie sighed. “I suppose I will be staying at the Low Nest Farm for a while.”

Ivan nodded. “I think that’s a good idea. You should become intimately familiar with this stone circle, and I’d suggest exploring the surrounding area as well. Get a feel for the land, you know? The circle exists in harmony with its environment, and you can’t understand it without context.”

Trixie muttered, “Maybe you should have gotten an earth pony. They’re supposed to be more attuned to the land. Unicorns draw our magic from the moon and stars, not from soil and rocks.”

Ivan rubbed his forehead. “You might have a point there. But then again, it’s not that simple. We know that a lot of these stones have astronomical alignments. According to Thom, the people who built these circles were adept mathematicians and astronomers. The circles could be used like a calendar to mark the seasons, and to predict eclipses on a 19-year cycle. That’s what Katrina meant when she said that magic flowed between the earth and sky.”

“Who is Tom?” Trixie wondered.

“Alexander Thom: a Scottish engineer who got started trying to figure out how the ancients moved huge stones around. He became one of the first to perform a thorough, systematic study of megalithic monuments and stone circles, and surveyed something like five hundred of them.”

“Five hundred! I had no idea there were so many. We’re not going to rebuild them all, are we?”

“Haha! I certainly hope not. Most of them were much smaller than Castlerigg. The average circle has a dozen stones. So, I think we can safely ignore those. Katrina is convinced — and I pray she’s right — that we only need to rebuild a few of the biggest ones. Stonehenge is critical, of course. And probably Avebury. We get those working, then we should see some results.” He glanced toward Smithers, who had by this time wandered some distance away. Then Ivan leaned closer to Trixie and added, in a softer voice, “Actually, we’ll never get permission to lay a finger on Stonehenge unless we get some kind of results here at Castlerigg first.”

While Trixie pondered that, Ivan reached over and rested his hand lightly upon her mane, and said, “Anyhow, I suggest thinking of this as a paid vacation! The Lake District used to be quite a tourist trap, before the economy fell apart — and before the Emergence. I think they still have market days down in Keswick. You can see the sights, relax and enjoy yourself, and I’ll call you back up here after we’ve moved some things around. Does that sound all right?”

Trixie nodded. “I suppose it does. When will you start moving things around?”

“The surveying and planning is done. I expect to bring in a crew with some JCBs before the end of the day, and break ground tomorrow.”

Trixie spent much of her day trying to follow Ivan’s advice, wandering around the small town of Keswick. At first she thought it would be a lonely exercise, but the humans she met were uniformly friendly and curious about her, and she was repeatedly questioned about Equestria, about magic, and about conversion — although she didn’t know too much about the latter subject.

Trixie encountered no ponies, in striking contrast to New York where newfoals had become a common sight. Since North America was being actively consumed by the Barrier, all the crash efforts at mass conversion were taking place there. A bit of discussion revealed that Conversion Bureaus were operating in the major cities of the UK, but the process hadn’t taken off yet. Aside from medical cases, there was little sense of urgency, and it seemed most of the population was inclined to wait and see.

Despite the well-maintained appearance of the town, Trixie noticed how many shops along the storefront were empty. The only newspaper in town was a thin local publication. She reflected that she should keep up with the news better, and she really needed to learn to use the television in her room.

In the evening Trixie met Ivan back at the farmhouse, and she asked how things were coming along at the circle.

“Not bad, not bad!” he responded. “My crew arrived and we got the machinery unloaded. We’re going to start working on the henge — the earthworks, that is — tomorrow morning. We’ll get to moving stones later. Oh, this is exciting! There’s nothing like that sense of anticipation when all the planning is done, and you’re about to start moving dirt!”

Trixie narrowed her eyes. “Yes, exciting.”

Ivan smirked at her lack of enthusiasm. “All right then, how was your day?”

“My day was pleasant enough. I even found this amazing candy in town.” Her horn glowed as she levitated a half-empty bag of colorful sweets. She grinned as a blue one floated out of the bag. “Look! They’re shaped like tiny, transparent bears.” Sitting on her haunches, she pinched the bear between her front hooves and glared at it. “So, we meet again — but this time the advantage is mine!” Then she bit down on it’s head. She growled as she pulled, stretching the rubbery confection. After a few moments the bear came apart, and she chewed briefly and swallowed. “Ha-ha! Vanquished by the Great and Powerful Trixie!”

Ivan chuckled, pleased to see her acting silly and having fun for a change. He watched as she popped the rest of the bear into her mouth and chewed on it. His smile faded, though, and he scratched his forehead. Then he ventured, “Um, Trixie… I’m not sure if you are aware what those are made from?”

Trixie blinked? She swallowed and glanced at the bag, dubiously. “I hadn’t thought about it. Some sort of marshmallow, I suppose?” She twirled the bag around in her magical aura and squinted at the label on the back. “corn syrup… sugar… hmm… What is ‘beef gelatin’?”

Ivan sucked in his breath with a hiss, and scratched the back of his head. “Oooh, that. Maybe it’s better you don’t know.”

She glanced up at him. “Really, now. Trixie is not a child.”

He fidgeted a little and muttered, “No, I suppose you’re not.” Then he leaned down and whispered a few words in her ear.

Trixie’s eyes went wide. The glow of her horn flickered and died, dropping the bag on the floor, and she brought her hooves to her mouth and heaved. She staggered on three feet, still holding one hoof at her mouth as she struggled to keep down her gorge.

“Trixie? Are you alright?”

She moved her hoof in a gesture to forestall him, while she closed her eyes for a moment and swallowed, then said, “No… No, just… please no! Tell me that was some kind of horrible joke?”

Ivan bit his lip and shook his head. “Fraid not.”

“Bleaaauh! Why would anypony…?” She sat down again, rubbed her eyes with her foreleg, and then said, “Ivan? I want to go home.”

“What?”

“I don’t think I can take any more of this. I don’t care about the money. I’m sick of… everything. I’m sick of not having any other ponies around, and clouds and the sun and moon moving by themselves, and not knowing how anything works, and illusionary pit traps, and not even being able to buy a bag of candy — for Celestia’s sake — without it turning into… into… a horror story.”

Ivan crouched beside her and stroked her mane. “I’m so sorry. If you really feel that way, I’ll call Lord Peter in the morning and have a car sent to pick you up.”

“I… I’d like that, thank you! I don’t feel like I’m of any use here anyway.”

“It’s all right. I got a text message from Abdel today. He’s sending over another adept to try and scry the circle. Maybe she’ll have better luck.”

Trixie’s ears perked up. “Oh, he found another unicorn?”

“He only sent me a very terse message. Does the name Moondancer ring any bells?”

Trixie’s eyes lit up. “I knew a Moondancer in school. I wonder if it’s her? I’d enjoy seeing her again. When is she arriving?”

“Tomorrow before noon.”

“Well… Perhaps I was too hasty in wanting to leave. An assistant — or simply another pony around — might make everything easier for me to tolerate. Yes. I shall get a good night’s sleep, and consult with Moondancer tomorrow.”

“There you go, that’s the spirit. And, um… I’m sorry about the gummi bears too. A lot of humans are disgusted too, when they find out what they’re made of. I’ll try to give you better warnings about things like that.”

“Hmm, yes. If you want to make it up to me, do you suppose you could show me how to operate the television in my room tonight?”

“I’d be very pleased to do that for you, Miss Trixie. We should see about getting you a mobile as well, if you decide to stay.”

After much coaching from Ivan, Trixie started getting the hang of the television. With her magic she levitated both the remote control and a pencil, using the pencil’s eraser end to push the buttons. She flipped through the channels.

flip

The young man's hair was unkempt, his clothes of good quality, though loose-fitting, and his eyes burned with enthusiasm. "Dudes, I spent my whole life searching for the best currents, and the most righteous clouds. Goin' high!"

The scene changed to a pegasus with similar mane-style and expression. The pegasus flared his wings. "Dudes! Now I can hang glide on my way to work! And work is making weather! How cool is that?"

flip

“…speculation that a severe doom-and-gloom statement was upcoming from authorities of the European Central Bank…”

flip

Tiny biscuits of sugar-frosted breakfast cereal danced around the kitchen table, singing and flailing their little limbs while a human looked on and grinned idiotically. Trixie shuddered. That was not an appropriate use of the Come-To-Life spell!

flip

The brown stallion was in a park, with humans and ponies conspicuously walking and playing in the background. Another stallion approached to greet him. “Hey, Flint! How you getting used to the new bod?”

“It’s a lot better than I expected. I’m as healthy as a horse now, haha! But dang, it’s rough having to do everything with my mouth and hooves, you know?”

“I hear ya, buddy. Did you give the Hoof Helper a try? Check this!” He sat down and nosed at the elaborate bracer on his right foreleg. Immediately a mechanism unfolded and flipped forward, adding a set of fingerlike protrusions on either side of the hoof.”

Trixie snorted dismissively.

flip

“…characteristic of the negative phase of the North Atlantic Oscillation. Meteorologists are blaming the phenomenon on a disruption to both the jet stream and ocean currents caused by the advancing Barrier. Computer models have been unable to forecast the interactions…”

flip

“…controversial refugee camps in Colorado, which have turned into recruiting grounds for the HLF terrorist group. Speaking at the United Nations, Equestria’s special envoy called for the closing of those camps.”

The scene switched to a lavender-colored unicorn who Trixie easily recognized, though they’d only met once, briefly. She spoke into a microphone: “Our Conversion Bureaus have enough capacity to convert all the displaced humans and place them safely and comfortably on the Equestrian side of the Barrier, in the Exponential Lands. These refugee camps are only delaying the inevitable and causing needless strife.”

The camera switched back to the human at the anchor desk. “The comments spurred immediate protests from the United States and several other nations. Shortly afterward Equestria’s ambassador to the UN, Lyra Heartstrings, issued a statement clarifying that Princess Celestia does not and will not advocate or condone the forced conversion of anyone.”

Trixie nickered. “Oh, Twilight Sparkle… Have you come down with a case of hoof-in-mouth disease?”

flip

A cheery song played: “Put a little bit of love inside! Put a little bit of love inside!” A drably dressed man walked on a crowded street, surrounded by drably dressed people carrying black umbrellas. He pulled out a rainbow-colored umbrella and unfurled it, and it trailed a spray of multi-colored hearts behind.

flip

Some sort of cars zipped around a track, buzzing like hornets. An announcer yammered while the camera viewpoint shifted to follow the cars. The view changed to a camera on board one of the cars. Trixie watched for a few moments, feeling both thrilled and disoriented.

flip

Trixie began to feel lightheaded. The bombardment of alien sights and sounds was wearing her down.

flip

A colorful scene resolved showing two… people, for lack of a better word, sitting on a park bench. One appeared to be a sort of humanoid raccoon, and the other was a much larger bluejay. The raccoon said, “Dude, what was that all about?”

The bird said, “I dunno. I don’t want to fight them, I just want them to leave.”

“Well, we can’t show up with more compost. No. I think there’s only one thing left we can do to get them to stop cleaning those boats.”

“What?”

The raccoon pointed in the air, for emphasis. “Pizza party!”

“Dude! You’re a genius.”

Trixie set down the remote and got comfortable to watch the show.

The next morning Trixie joined Ivan for breakfast. To her relief, Ivan didn’t tease her any more about food. The impending arrival of Moondancer made Trixie restless, so she decided to follow Ivan to the work site.

As they walked, she asked him, “Are there many humans who look like animals? Like Katrina, I mean?”

“What? No. There are very few. That kind of genetic modification isn’t allowed in most parts of the world. Why do you ask?”

“Last night on the television I saw some stories about animal people. There was one with a raccoon and a bluejay, and there was one with rabbits and ducks and a pig and gophers. They seemed to mix freely with humans.”

“That’s peculiar. Do you remember what those shows were called?”

Trixie tried to remember. “Umm… I think one was called Looney Tunes.”

Ivan blinked, started to say something, then stopped and broke down laughing. “Bwa haha! I knew it! You can’t tell cartoons from reality!”

Trixie scowled, ears drooping. “I could tell! I mean, I knew it looked funny. But everything on the television is so bizarre. I looked at different channels, but almost none of it made any sense. I was beginning to think nothing it shows is real.”

Ivan still chuckled, but he nodded and agreed. “Oh, now that’s closer to the truth. I shudder to think of anyone watching the telly and trying to learn about our society. We sometimes joke about it causing brain rot. Although, I don’t think it’ll really hurt you, as long as you don’t take any of it seriously.”

“I’ll remember that.”

After they reached the stone circle, Trixie had a chance to examine the earth-moving equipment that had been brought up. The field around the circle, which had been empty the previous morning, now was a forest of trailer houses, dump trucks, JCBs and maintainers. No work was being done yet, but a few workmen were already standing about, drinking coffee as they chatted. A few of the locals had come up from Keswick too, curious onlookers.

Trixie trotted up to a JCB and then walked around it, viewing it from all angles. She sniffed, catching the scent of oil and grease. A couple of workmen, keeping their distance, watched her with equal curiosity. Ivan came closer and said, “I’ll bet you don’t have anything like that in Equestria.”

She rolled her eyes. “We aren’t a bunch of cave-ponies; we have steam powered construction equipment back home. Honestly, I’m surprised at how normal these machines look. I expected some sort of technological miracle.”

They went back to the stone circle itself, where Smithers was sitting on a short stone, looking morose. Ivan greeted him, “Morning! I’m surprised to find you up here so early.”

Smithers shook his head. “I came up before dawn. I wanted to see the last sunrise over this place before it’s desecrated.”

Ivan looked down at his hands, with contrite countenance. “You don’t have to watch, you know.”

“Oh, but I do. It’s my responsibility, my duty. I brought my camera, too. I’m going to document every insult.” He stood up and draped the camera strap around his neck. He flipped a switch on the back of the camera, then nodded to both Ivan and Trixie. “Do you mind posing? We’re making history today — though for good or ill, only time will tell.”

Trixie groused, “If I’d known we were doing this, I would have worn my cape and hat.” Nonetheless she posed with her front hooves upon the stubby stone, propping herself up and making herself look bigger while Ivan knelt beside her, and Smithers snapped the photo.

Since it was now light enough, Smithers went to walk about and take more photos of the machinery and workers. A motor fired up, its noise breaking the morning stillness. Ivan told Trixie, “I’m afraid we don’t have any groundbreaking ceremony planned, but you’re welcome to stay and watch.”

She shook her head. “Thank you, but no. I’m afraid I would only be in the way. And besides, I’m eager to meet Moondancer. I should be at the farm when she arrives.”

“Very well, I’ll see you back there later today.” He waved a farewell, and went to talk with his crew.

Trixie made her way back to the farm house alone, then went to her room to meditate for a while. Stressed with feelings of homesickness, she’d had some difficulty maintaining her reserves of magical energy. It never seemed to come to her as easily as it had back in Equestria.

After an extended session of meditation Trixie felt better. She donned her cape, then went to the utility kitchen to prepare some tea, which she then took to the communal lounge. She settled down to sip her tea and quietly read while waiting for Moondancer’s arrival.

She had just finished the tea when she heard the front door. Trixie smiled, stretched her legs and went to the foyer. Mildred was holding the front door open while a younger woman brought in a pair of suitcases. Her eyes lit up when she spied Trixie. The woman set down her bags and smiled as she said, “Merry Meet! You must be Trixie Lulamoon. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Of course you have! Trixie is, after all, the most magical unicorn in all Equestria — and her fame now spreads far beyond.” She paused, and leaned to the side to glance past the woman’s legs, out the door. “Err… Is Moondancer with you?”

She blinked, then smiled broadly. “I’m Moondancer.” She knelt and put her hands together in a gesture of namaste and said, “May the blessing of the light be with you always, Trixie!”

Author's Note

Contrary to popular misconception, gummi bears are not made from "hooves". I doubt Trixie would find the truth much more appetizing, though.

Fell Pony

The next day Moondancer decided Trixie needed some cheering up and convinced her to come along into Keswick town for some retail therapy. As they ambled through the sunny spring morning, brown sparrows played alongside the streets, and some of Trixie’s gloom seemed to lift. Some storefronts were closed and dark, offering mute testament to the economic depression that had settled over large portions of Earth, but there were still some shops offering antiques, books, paintings and pottery, jewelry, specialty foods, clothing and simple wooden toys and puzzles. Very little of what Trixie saw matched her preconceptions of the mass-produced, high-technology wonders of Earth. She commented on this.

“Oh, it’s a tourist trap!” Moondancer answered. “People come here for the mountains and lakes, and to shop for handmade knick-knacks. It’s nostalgia for a simpler time.”

Trixie snorted softly. “Nostalgia for the dirt and backwardness of the countryside? In Equestria everypony wants to move to the big city.”

Just off the Market Square they came to a shopping arcade with a sign helpfully identifying it as “Packhorse Court”. Moondancer glanced from the sign to Trixie and nudged her, grinning, but Trixie merely eyed the sign suspiciously, then lowered her head and grumbled.

Moondancer prodded. “What?”

“It’s eerie. Your world is so different from mine, so alien. Yet I keep running into things that seem mundane, that remind me of home. This town has much in common with Hoofington.”

“Your hometown?”

Trixie hesitated a moment. Hoofington was hardly a glamorous name in Equestria, but that didn’t matter here. “That’s right,” she admitted, and she followed Moondancer into the Packhorse Court.

They wandered about, window shopping for a while until they came to rest at a cafe called the Honey Pot. Taking advantage of the fine weather, they found a table on the terrace and ordered an early lunch.

As they were waiting, they were startled by a shrill voice. “Eeeee! A pony!” Trixie’s ears folded back and she cringed as she spotted a blond-haired, rosy-cheeked little girl approaching rapidly. Human children were notorious for accosting ponies, hugging perfect strangers without warning and planting their grabby little hands all over manes and tails and even faces, and fussing and pestering with endless questions. Trixie had tried to avoid them — successfully, for the most part — ever since coming to Earth. Now, however, a grinning brat was locked onto her like a homing missile.

Trixie shifted from her seat, prepared to run.

Another voice, this one tinged with panic: “Lily, no!” The little girl paused, uncertain, long enough for her mother to dart forward and grab her and pull her back. In a softer tone she admonished, “Don’t get near it!”

Trixie froze, then slipped back into her seat while the mother hustled her disappointed child away. Trixie swallowed, then bit her lip as she looked down at the tabletop. The expression she’d seen on the human mother’s face had been one of fear, and it felt like an icicle through Trixie’s heart. Suddenly, irrationally, she found herself longing for a little girl to hug her and stroke her mane and tail.

As if in answer to her wish, she felt a hand touch the back of her neck lightly, but it was Moondancer. “Are you all right?” she asked.

“Yes…” Trixie muttered in a voice as tiny and miserable as any Moondancer had ever heard.

They had their lunch in silence, then returned to the Low Nest Farm.

That evening when the whole team, as it were, had gathered for supper and to compare notes, Trixie cleared her throat and clomped a hoof on the floor for attention. She stood up, placing her front hooves on the edge of the table. “The Great and Powerful Trixie would like to say a few words.”

With bemused expressions, Moondancer, Smithers and Ivan focused on her, and Ivan gestured for her to continue. “By all means, Miss Unicorn.”

She lifted her head a fraction higher and spoke loudly, with the booming lilt of her stage act, as if this were another performance. “Trixie has had doubts about this enterprise, and for a time had considered returning to Equestria. Then the PER attack happened.”

Moondancer blurted, “That wasn’t your fault!”

Trixie pointed a hoof at Moondancer. “Indeed it was not! However, that doesn’t mean Trixie can’t do something about it. Those PER ponies showed their true colors. Now it is time for Trixie to show hers.” She brought the hoof back to her chest, as if making a pledge. “I shall remain and assist with this noble effort for as long as I am wanted. If I can’t help with the stone circle, then I shall find some other way to contribute. Katrina said she had difficulty recruiting talented unicorns from Equestria. Well, she shall have at least this one!” She lowered her hoof to the table with an emphatic thump and watched to see their response.

Ivan was the first to begin clapping, and Moondancer and even Smithers joined in. “Well said!” Ivan added. “And I, for one, am glad to have you with us.”

Trixie looked to the others, seeking any hint of disapproval or mockery, and found none. They were supportive, even proud. It felt good.

The next issue that came up was whether work should continue through the weekend. Lord Peter had phoned and expressed his willingness to pay overtime and keep the workers engaged seven days a week, but Ivan balked. They might get the work finished a bit quicker, but there was much more work ahead, no telling how much, and he preferred to set a sustainable pace and keep the workmen happy. It was Moondancer who had settled the matter. Keeping the sabbath was important, she said, and would allow her to gather her coven and hold the needed ceremonies in peace. Trixie likewise would have more opportunities to scry the circle at her leisure and see if there was any flicker of magic that she could detect.

During the week Ivan assigned homework for Moondancer and Trixie. He explained it thusly: “Castlerigg was one of the first stone circles built, one of the oldest that survives. Thus, it should function on its own. However… Katrina is convinced, and I tend to agree, that we need to also re-connect our monuments with the old system of ley lines.”

“Ley lines?” Trixie queried.

“The old straight tracks. Like way markers, they used to run long distances across the countryside. The markers took many forms. In the megalithic era, a single menhir — a standing stone — would have been the most common. You could follow the path from menhir to menhir. Then you would see intersections marked with barrows or trilithons, or even small henges. It was like… Well, I guess you might compare it with our modern power grid, but instead of electricity it beamed magic from places like Castlerigg to wherever it was needed.”

Trixie nodded. “Then you just need to erect new stones wherever they’ve fallen.”

Ivan sighed. “It’s not that simple. After thousands of years, much of the network is lost or obscured. A lot of the markers have been buried, broken or altered. Some have simply fallen over and sunk into the earth as centuries passed. Farmers clearing their fields have broken up some of them. Others were destroyed to make way for Christianity. Those early Christians thought anything from the pagan past was a work of The Devil. Sometimes after destroying a monument they would replace it with a Christian cross, or even with a church, especially if the site was on a hilltop. There’s not much left, and it takes detective work to even figure out where the ley lines used to run.”

“But it gets worse,” he continued. “We don’t even know the rules. I mean, the underlying logic. We don’t know how big the stones have to be, or how far apart, or how far the lines can run between henges. Do you need a trilithon every fifty miles, or a hundred? Do we need to build more small stone circles between the major ones? I don’t know. All we can do is try to figure out what the old tracks looked like, and try to mimic them, and hope we accidentally build something that works.”

Moondancer said, “OK, but where do Trixie and I come in? What can we do about it?”

“I was getting to that!” Ivan pulled out a large binder and dropped it on the table. He opened it to reveal detailed maps — they appeared to be geological survey maps with many additions and annotations.

“We don’t have the time or resources to conduct vast archaeological surveys of the countryside, but we do have archives full of studies that can be correlated and analyzed. Katrina already has a small group of scholars working on this, piecing together everything they can about the prehistoric ley network and trying to do statistical analysis on it. They’re doing the heavy lifting, but the two of you can review their work and check it against your own knowledge of magic.”

The witch and the unicorn looked askance at the map. Moondancer spoke for both, saying, “I’m not sure why you think I’d know anything about this.”

“I know. I know, just… Look at them. Try to find a pattern. Scry them, look in your crystal ball, whatever it is that you do. It might be a good idea to visit some of the ley markers and related sites in the region, look them over, see if any of them feel magical. See how they run across the landscape and influence their surroundings, that you can’t get from just looking at a map. And if you do all that and can’t come up with anything helpful, that’s OK.”

Reluctantly, Moondancer pulled the binder closer, and said, “Trixie… It looks like we have some busy days ahead.” Trixie nodded, frowning slightly.

The next several days were indeed busy ones. Trixie and Moondancer studied the maps, visited local landmarks, and tried to teach one another magic in their spare time. They also found time to shop the traditional Market Day in Keswick, and Moondancer made arrangements for members of her coven to come and hold a ceremony to re-consecrate the henge.

On wednesday the wind picked up, gusting and whistling, and dire warnings of an unseasonable arctic blast issued from the Met Office.

In the pre-dawn hours of thursday the temperature plummeted ten degrees in less than an hour and continued falling throughout the day. Ivan organized a shopping trip to acquire warm clothes none of them had expected to need in the springtime. Clothing for ponies had yet to appear in the area, but Trixie came away with a new scarf to supplement her hat and cape.

By friday morning freezing rain had begun to coat the roads with patches of ice. Work was called off at the stone circle, and Moondancer sent the message to all her followers to stay home. Mildred had stocked up on hot chocolate, and the day’s activities turned toward staying warm and watching the telly.

In alarmist tones, talking heads described a faltering of the Gulf Stream that normally warmed the British Isles, and strange behavior of the jet stream high in the atmosphere. Satellite images showed a spinning cloud mass descending from the Arctic Circle. Trixie had known humans were unable to control weather, but she was grudgingly impressed by their power to observe, explain and predict it. Even their supercomputers, though, couldn’t model the chaotic interactions between the advancing Barrier and the Earth’s natural climate systems.

Some attempts had been made to bring weather control to Earth. Celestia had dispatched teams of weather pegasi, along with as many hastily-trained newfoals as could be mustered, but the planet was vast, and its weather — outside of the already-converted Exponential Lands — was unruly and difficult to work with. At best the pegasi could wrest control locally, on a small scale. They couldn’t stop the mega-storm that was now descending on Britain and Europe, and nobody could predict with any certainty when it would lift.

Mildred scurried about, getting the winter blankets out of storage and making sure the furnace would work. That night bitter cold seemed to seep into the house through every crack and seam, despite all attempts to keep it at bay. By saturday morning snow was building up on the ground, and it continued falling from a dark sky. Confined to the house, everyone grew more restless and weary as the day dragged on.

Trixie rubbed her eyes with the side of her pastern, tired and frustrated. For an hour she’d been trying to teach something of unicorn magic to Moondancer, but it seemed impossible. Lacking a horn, the human could do no more than listen to Trixie’s descriptions and watch her demonstrate spells. This had been entertaining for a while, but there seemed to be little common ground between what Trixie did and anything Moondancer knew of magic.

Moondancer was also growing weary, and she suggested, “Why don’t I teach you some more Wiccan magic for a while?”

Trixie scowled. “What Wiccan magic? I haven’t seen you do anything.”

“I demonstrated the negative banishing ritual almost as soon as we met.”

“I didn’t feel any magical discharge when you did that. There was no aura, no sound, and no visible result. If I did that in school, I’d get an F on my report card.”

“Human magic doesn’t work that way.”

“Gaah!” Trixie exclaimed. “That’s what you always say! Every time you do something magical and nothing happens, your excuse is that human magic doesn’t work that way. Why not just say it doesn’t work, period?”

Moondancer was speechless for a moment, but only a moment. “That… That’s not fair! You’re judging something you don’t understand.”

“Then show me!”

Moondancer took a deep breath. Then she brightened up and said, “Oh, I know! We can do some candle magic next.”

Trixie quirked an eyebrow. “Candle magic?”

“Yes! That’s easy. We light different numbers and colors of candles with symbolic meanings, to summon various types of good fortune.”

“Ah. And how long, exactly, would it take for this vaguely defined good fortune to manifest?”

Moondancer shrugged. “It varies. You can’t exactly schedule something like that. It’s in the hands of the spirits.”

Trixie snorted. “Spirits, really? You can’t even prove that your magic does anything. You’ll go through your little ritual and then, days later, the next time we have a bit of good luck, you can claim the spell had something to do with it. That’s not magic, that’s a fraud!”

“Fraud?” Moondancer’s voice cracked. “Where do you get off, calling me a fraud? You… you… entertainer! Stage magician!”

“Oh, did Trixie hit a nerve?”

“OUT!” Moondancer pointed at her door. “Out of my room!”

“FINE!” Trixie retorted as she turned to leave. “Trixie has wasted enough of her precious time on your delusions.” She trotted out, nose in the air, and Moondancer slammed the door behind her.

Trixie lowered her head and grumbled to herself as she moved down the hallway toward her own room. Loud voices gave her pause as she approached the lounge, men’s voices raised in anger. “FINE!” she heard one shout, followed by the slamming of a door. After a few moments of silence she moved forward with caution and peeked into the lounge.

There was Ivan, sitting on the sofa, slumped with his head in his hands. He ran his fingers through his ruffled hair, a peculiar and un-pony-like gesture to Trixie’s eyes. His normally mirthful countenance was gone, making him look old.

Trixie moved closer, nudged his knee with her muzzle and asked, “Hey, are you all right?”

“I’ll manage. It’s just Smithers being an ass. He thinks his job here is to say no, and that the more he says no, the better he’s doing it. I’m having to fight tooth and nail with him for every little change of plans. You might think with the fate of humanity at stake, that he’d cut us a little slack.”

Trixie frowned, glancing downward contemplatively. “But he doesn’t believe it’ll work.”

“He called me a crackpot! Delusional, he said. He thinks we’re wasting time moving rocks and dirt to no purpose, fiddling while Rome burns. What he thinks would be more productive, I really don’t know.”

Trixie sat on her haunches, and awkwardly rubbed one arm across the other. “Could he be right?”

“What do you mean? You think I’m a crackpot too?”

“I didn’t say that! But… Moondancer has been trying to teach me about witchcraft, and I’ve yet to see her produce a single spell with any visible result. She keeps spouting nonsense about gods and spirits and symbols and rituals, but there’s never a spark of actual magic. I haven’t seen or felt any magic that I didn’t produce myself since we arrived here. Not from her, not from you, and not from the stone circle. You said magic on Earth was hidden, but my patience is running short for some of it — any of it — to become visible. If it’s more than just a fantasy, that is.”

He eyed her warily. “If that’s what you think, why are you here? You pledged yourself to this effort! Are you going to abandon us already?”

“Trixie always keeps her word — even if she later comes to regret it. I said I would help humanity somehow. Maybe I should be helping get humans converted, or help get the Exponential Lands ready for the masses of newfoals to move in. Maybe moving rocks around is not the best use of Trixie’s precious talent!”

Ivan squinted. “Helping humans get converted? You mean like…?” He left the sentence hanging.

Trixie’s mouth hung open as she realized what he was implying, momentarily speechless. When she found her voice, it was shrill. “You can’t possibly think that! How dare you imply…”

“We don’t want to become ponies. Everyone in Golden Dawn is dedicated to preventing that from happening. If you encourage conversion, or endorse it, or facilitate it — after telling everyone you were on our side — then how do you expect us to take that?”

Trixie was trembling as she stared at the floor, her ears folded back, and she snorted and scuffed the floor with a hoof, and Ivan wondered for a moment if he’d gone too far. In a snap, though, she turned away from him and went straight to her room.

Ivan slumped once again and rubbed the bridge of his nose. After only a few moments hoofsteps and a sizzle of magic caused him to look up, only to see Trixie marching past, wearing her hat and cape, and wrapping the scarf around her neck with magic. He said, “Don’t tell me you’re going out in the blizzard! Are you daft?”

“Trixie needs to cool off,” was all she said, and she continued on toward the front door without even glancing his way.

Blizzard was an overstatement, although snow was still falling from the gloomy sky. Trixie tromped out into it. At first she didn’t pay attention to where she was going, but after a few minutes realized she’d wandered onto Castle Lane, following the familiar path to the stone circle. It was natural, instinctive, for a pony to follow a familiar path without giving it any thought. It was best not to get lost in the snow, anyhow.

Trixie’s feet were cold, and the wind was bitter. She stopped a moment to cast warming spells on her clothes and hooves. It wouldn’t last forever, but for a time the magic would keep her from getting frostbite or hypothermia. For a few moments she stood and listened, her sensitive ears picking up nothing but wind and the soft hiss of snow falling. She resumed her sullen march down Castle Lane.

Glancing right and left, she pondered the sudden return of winter in May. Green grass and flowers were buried under snow, to say nothing of young crops in the fields. The experts said this was caused by the Barrier — yet another misery brought to this miserable world, another painful import of chaos from Equestria. The gloomy sky, the cold, and her mood were all in accord.

At least she was out of the house. At least she was away from those humans, for a little while.

Not knowing where else to go, she entered the field where the stone circle and henge were under construction. Work sheds, JCBs and mounds of dirt were all covered in blankets of white, abandoned and silent. The machines had been working to rebuild the earthworks — the henge — that surrounded the stones. They had dug a deep ditch around the stones and piled up a bank around the ditch. It wasn’t complete yet, but it was taking shape. Trixie walked through an entryway that had been left clear, intentionally she assumed, and made her way to the stones.

She sat, planting her rump and tail in the snow, and she looked around the ancient stones, gray and indifferent. They’d been snowed upon countless times. The passage of seasons, years, centuries, meant nothing to them. They had no advice to offer Trixie.

Or did they? She closed her eyes and listened to snow flurries sizzling across the ground, between the stones. Then she cast a spell — the subtle, swirling tinkle of unicorn magic, so often unnoticed, sounded loud against the background of fimbulvinter. The spell was meant to scan, to detect, to sense any other source of magic around her.

Trixie maintained the spell, seconds ticking by, straining to find anything. Then she released it, along with the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, and her head slumped low. There was nothing, nothing but the same emptiness, the same lifelessness, that she’d sensed everywhere in this doomed world. She sighed and listened to the snow falling, and felt the chill slowly gnawing its way through her enchantments, reaching for her bones.

A noise in the distance made her ear twitch. She opened her eyes, perked up her ears and swiveled them to locate the disturbance. A crunch of footsteps and a slight snort or snuffle told her somebody was approaching. Had somebody come looking for her so soon? That hardly seemed likely. She peered past the cold stones, through the drifting snowflakes, into the gray. A shape was barely visible shuffling toward her.

It didn’t seem like a human shape. It was squat, its head bobbing slightly as it walked. Trixie squinted, her eyes teasing out more details as it neared. For a moment she thought it was a pony like herself. It was much bigger, though, its proportions distorted, and as gray as the stones around her. Its fetlocks, mane and tail were shaggy, streaked, and crusted with rime frost and snow. Seeing her, it stopped, then tossed its head and snorted, blowing out a white cloud of frost.

Trixie’s mind whirled, memories of long-ago stories and myths flooding back to her, which she’d always dismissed as nothing more than bedtime stories, and in an instant she realized what this feral-looking, awful thing must be. A bolt of fear shot through her, a chill striking through her heart that far exceeded mere snow and wind. Eyes wide, ears drooped, she scooted back a couple of steps and whispered one word: “wendigo…”

Then she turned and bolted. She dashed through the snow, raced down Castle Lane. She never looked back. Tears streamed from her wind-stung eyes, and icy air clawed at her throat, but she ran as though a manticore was at her heels. Somewhere she lost her hat, though she hardly noticed. She skidded around the corners, hooves flinging snow, until she reached the house at the Low Nest Farm.

She fumbled at the door for a moment, trying to use both hooves and magic on it at the same time. Then she was in, falling onto the carpet and kicking with a hind leg to slam the door shut.

Ivan was first to respond to the noise and rushed over to kneel by her side. “Trixie? What happened, what’s wrong?” Shivering and coughing, she tried to speak but found it impossible to form coherent words. Instead she grabbed him with her hooves and pulled close, tucking her muzzle against his chest. “You’re freezing!” he exclaimed. Puzzled, he hugged her, then yelled over his shoulder. “Mildred! Something’s happened to Trixie. Bring us a blanket!”

He then picked her up in his burly arms and carried her to the lounge, and laid her upon the sofa. Mildred arrived momentarily, took the damp cape and scarf, and wrapped a blanket around the little unicorn, then she returned to the kitchen to fetch some hot tea. Smithers and Moondancer also trailed in to see what the ruckus was about.

After sipping some tea, Trixie caught her breath and managed to say, “Listen… Listen, everyone! We’re all in great danger. I saw a wendigo at the stone circle.”

It was Smithers who said, “A what now?”

“A wendigo! You’ve got to believe me. I saw it.”

Smithers looked to Ivan, who shrugged and looked to Moondancer, who shrugged and looked to Trixie. “What’s a wendigo?” she asked.

Trixie blinked, momentarily nonplussed by their ignorance. In Equestria it was hard to imagine anypony not knowing the myth by heart. “It’s a monster! They feed on anger and hatred, and they make snow and ice. They make it winter all the time. That’s why it’s like winter now. That’s why we’re buried in snow, don’t you see? The wendigos are here. They’re freezing your world.”

Smithers and Moondancer looked at one another, and Mildred just looked worried and confused. Ivan, however, began to gather up his coat and bobble hat. Trixie noticed. “Ivan? Where are you going? You can’t go out there with those things!”

Unperturbed, he answered, “Well, I’ve never seen a wendigo before. And it was at the henge, so that’s my responsibility. I’m going to take a look.”

“I’ll go too,” Smithers said, and he went to get his winter clothes. Without a word, Moondancer fetched hers as well.

“Wait! What? You… You’re not all going to leave me alone here, are you?”

Ivan said, “You’ll be safe here. Mildred will stay with you — won’t you?” Mildred nodded.

Trixie gulped, and then pushed aside the blanket and slipped off the couch to stand on all fours. “I’ll go too.”

Ivan’s brow furrowed with concern. “Are you sure? You don’t have to do that.”

“You don’t believe what I saw. Well, I’ll show you! You have no idea what you’re getting into, and you might need some magic.” She paused for a moment, perhaps realizing that she didn’t know what she was getting into either. Then she added, “Besides, The Great and Powerful Trixie needs to find her hat.”

The four of them went out, piled into Ivan’s SUV, turned the heater to maximum, and rolled into the snowy gloom, which was only becoming darker as the hour grew late. Upon glimpsing her hat Trixie called a halt and levitated it back to the car. Then they proceeded up the road, retracing Trixie’s terrified dash until they eased into the work site.

Ivan stopped the car, though he left the lights on. He opened the door and stepped out, and the other humans followed. Swallowing her fear, Trixie followed last. The snowfall had almost stopped, with only a scattering of tiny, dusty flakes swirling down in the breeze. They moved away from the car, spreading out slowly, looking around. Ivan examined the ground, trying to see if tracks in the snow could tell anything about what happened.

“Ivan!” Moondancer hissed, and waved him over to where she stood. He tromped over and peered where she was pointing.

Peeking around one of the leaning stones was an equine shape, partially crusted with rime. Looking at Ivan, it snorted and gave its head a little shake. “Will you look at that…” he muttered. He dropped to his knee in the snow and reached out a hand, and he uttered a tsk-tsk sound to entice the creature. “Come on, boy… I won’t hurt you,” he said softly.

The animal whickered and trudged through the snow over to him and started sniffing about his hand.

Trixie was gobsmacked, staring in wide-eyed wonder while her mouth hung open. Finally she managed to squeak out one word: “What!?”

“It’s a fell pony,” Ivan answered, as if that explained anything. “He must have got lost in the snow, as confused by this weather as everyone else. Come on over and say hello.” He reached to the pony’s shaggy mane and brushed away some of the accumulated frost.

Trixie moved toward him cautiously. “Fell? Pony?”

“A pony of the fells — a hill pony, in other words. Fell ponies are the native breed hereabouts in the hill country, been here for centuries. I’ve heard the queen even rides one.”

The wild-looking equine suddenly turned his head, stretched out his neck, reaching with his nose to snuffle at Trixie, but she squeaked and scooted back from him. “What — what was it trying to do?”

“That’s how they say hello to another horse, by putting their noses together and sniffing at one another’s breath. He’s just trying to be friendly.”

“How crude!” Trixie declared. She watched as Ivan petted the fell pony, then her expression softened and she moved closer to it again. This time she winced but held her ground as the pony once again sniffed at her nose, and she even managed a hesitant little sniff in return.

Ivan chuckled heartily. Then he pondered out loud. “Poor guy… He’s cold, and hungry too, I’d bet. We should bring him back to the farm and put him in the barn, and get him a blanket and some fodder. When the weather lifts, then we can ask around and find out where he belongs.”

“Do you think you can get him to follow?” Moondancer asked.

“Ehh… It would be easier if I had a rope.”

There was a magenta glow as Trixie levitated her hat and turned it over, and a length of slender rope came snaking upward from it. “Will this work?”

Later on in the evening, when everyone was back at the farm house and the fell pony was squared away, Trixie went to Mildred and said, “Please make up enough hot chocolate for everyone. I’m going to gather them all together in the lounge for something important.”

When the puzzled humans were all together, and all had their mugs in hand, Trixie stood upright on her hind legs and declared, loudly, “The Great and Powerful Trixie has a story to share with you all tonight. It is a story from Equestria, and perhaps the most important one of all. We have all had arguments today, but that must end. Please take this to heart!”

Trixie removed her hat and set it aside, and her horn glowed with magic, and she conjured up a scene outlined in translucent, ghostly colors. Tiny ponies appeared on the coffee table: earth ponies dressed in ragged clothes at one end, finely dressed unicorn ponies perched upon a rock on the other end, and pegasus ponies wearing what looked like togas hovered above.

Trixie began her story, employing the lilting tones she always used to address a crowd: “Once upon a time, long before the peaceful rule of Celestia, before ponies discovered our beautiful land of Equestria, ponies did not know harmony. It was a strange and dark time, a time when ponies were torn apart — by hatred!”

“During this frightful age, each of the three tribes — the pegasi, the unicorns, and the earth ponies — cared not for what befell the other tribes, but only for their own welfare. In those troubled times, as now, the pegasi were the stewards of the weather.” Trixie’s little animated pegasi began to shake a little animated cloud, making droplets fall from it. “But they demanded something in return: food that could only be grown by the earth ponies.” A pair of little animated ponies appeared pulling a cart, and they passed a bundle of vegetables to the pegasi — grudgingly, it seemed.

“The unicorns demanded the same in return for magically bringing forth day and night.” The earth ponies gave another bundle of food to the unicorns while the light upon the table shifted dramatically. “And so mistrust between the tribes festered until, one fateful day, it came to a boil.”

Dark clouds formed above the cartoonish ponies, and phantom snow began to drift down onto the tabletop. “And what prompted the ponies to clash? Twas a mysterious blizzard that overtook the land and toppled the tribes’ precarious peace…”

Trixie’s audience watched, spellbound.

Give the People What They Want

After a couple more bitterly cold days, the weather eased up, the snow began to melt, and the damage all across the countryside was tallied. To describe the event a word from mythology had been adopted by the news outlets, and then by the public: Fimbulwinter. In Norse mythology it was supposed to be the immediate prelude to the events of Ragnarok. Given widespread belief that the world of mankind was coming to an end, it seemed darkly appropriate.

The Met Office warned in dire terms that even though the immediate storm had passed, Earth’s climate was becoming more and more disrupted and unstable. The ever-expanding Barrier interacted with the atmosphere in ways that were impossible to predict. The public should brace for more surprises — or else, become converted to ponies as soon as possible and emigrate to the Exponential Lands where weather could be controlled magically. Humans lucky enough to become pegasi would rarely have any difficulty landing a job in weather control.

When the ground dried out at the work site, earthmoving resumed. Upon the next weekend Moondancer’s coven gathered at Castlerigg, and Trixie was invited to join them. Before the ceremony Moondancer explained, “Magic can be divided into two categories. Thaumaturgy is the working of wonders, and theurgy is the divine work. Thaumaturgical magic usually has a specific goal: gaining a fortune, losing weight, making crops grow, or banishing disease. Those are the sort of workings I’ve been showing you, and I got the impression most unicorn magic is like that too. Theurgy has a more spiritual and devotional focus. We perform it to bring us closer to the goddess, or to transform ourselves into a more holy or godlike state. You understand?”

Trixie frowned. “I… I don’t know. In our lore, in Equestria, contacting supernatural beings usually ends in them trying to take over the world and bring on eternal night, or eternal winter, or some other kind of eternal nastiness.”

“No benevolent gods or goddesses?”

“Not really. I suppose the closest thing we have to that is Celestia. And she’s… beautiful, and powerful, and loved by all, but, well… She’s still a pony. I don’t think she’s what you’d call a goddess.”

“That’s something a lot of humans have debated, actually. About Celestia, I mean. In our ancient history we had stories of, um… let’s say, demi-gods. Like Hercules, yeah?” Trixie only blinked, uncomprehending. Moondancer continued, “Ok, well… We had rulers who claimed divinity, from the Pharaohs to Alexander the Great. And the dividing line between mortals and the divine was more blurry than in modern times. So maybe Celestia fits into that sort of mold? But even then it seemed like they were always the lesser gods. If they walked the Earth, there always had to be others above them who didn’t. Something in the human psyche always looks to a higher power.”

Trixie considered the alienness of the human psyche for a moment before asking, “Are you sure you want to have a pony at your ceremony?”

Moondancer blinked, and then knelt and placed her hand on Trixie’s mane, over her withers, and told her: “Trixie, you’ll be the guest of honor! In our lore the unicorn is most magical and spiritual of all creatures. Having you there with us in the stone circle will make it very special for us.”

“I, uh… I won’t know what to do. Should I rehearse?”

Moondancer smiled. “You won’t have to do anything. We’ll have a place of honor prepared for you, where you can sit and watch. It’ll be fun, trust me!”

When Trixie went to the ceremony, she saw that all the construction equipment had been moved across the field, away from the henge and the stone circle. Trixie had imagined a gathering of mysterious, grim figures concealed in black cloaks. Instead she found most of the women wore loose and flowing garments, brightly colored, while the men tended towards striped tunics or sweaters, the overall look seeming old-fashioned even to Trixie’s eyes — like costumes from a pony play depicting the early classical era, perhaps. Many of the men had full beards, much more prevalent than she’d noticed among the general population, and many of them carried walking sticks, while many women (and a few men as well) had large, beaded handbags slung over their shoulders. Beaded jewelry seemed commonplace among both genders, too.

Ivan, escorting her, seemed right at home with the group. He admitted to Trixie that he wasn’t a close adherent to their religion, but he had basic knowledge of it, and a lot of past experience with these people through his work.

There was much conversation, smiles and laughter. This was no solemn event — or not yet, anyhow. A fire had been built in the center of the stone circle, and people gradually filtered in through the avenue leading through the side of the henge. Before they entered, some of them stopped at a folding table, where they left their phones or other electronic gadgets for safekeeping, these not being welcome inside the circle.

There were no other ponies present, and Trixie immediately became the center of attention. It seemed that all of the milling humans felt compelled to stop and introduce themselves, fawn over her and praise her for gracing their meeting with her presence, and for her contribution to their cause. Trixie wasn’t sure what exactly she had contributed thus far, but she concealed her doubts and anxiety the way she always did: by retreating into her stage persona. “Never let them see you sweat,” was what she’d been taught early on in show business. With her head held high, the haughty, lilting tones of her voice rang out, reassuring and thanking all who accosted her. The Great and Powerful Trixie, Most Magical Unicorn in All Equestria, was nothing if not confident — at least on the outside.

Even the Great and Powerful Trixie felt a little embarrassed to be greeted as “Holy One of Purity and Grace”, though.

As the wiccans filtered into the henge, the sun gradually slipped below the horizon, and the sky darkened to shades of twilight. The small bonfire seemed to come alive, turning the circle into an oasis of light and life.

The crowd settled down somewhat as they collected inside the henge, and Trixie joined them. One of the witches guided her to a cushion where she could rest her hindquarters. Near the fire were two figures in dark cloaks, more like what Trixie had expected to see from the beginning. One of them, she realized in a moment, was Moondancer, and the other was a bearded man she didn’t recognize.

Ivan knelt by Trixie and pointed at some new structures around the stone circle. “Look there… They’ve set up shrines in each of the elemental directions. To the east, air.” Trixie looked and saw a cluster of long sticks standing erect and decorated with feathers. “To the south, fire.” There smoke wafted up from a bundle of incense. “To the west, water.” A large bowl colored with swirls of green and blue sat on a small platform. “To the north, earth.” There was a small, rude structure of stone decorated with ferns and flowers.

Trixie nodded and whispered to him, “Earth, Air, Fire and Water. In our lore they stood for each of the pony tribes — assuming that Sea Ponies ever existed, that is.”

She glanced toward Moondancer and her companion, who were standing next to an altar bearing astrological symbols of Mars and Venus. Ivan commented, “The priest and priestess represent God and Goddess — which, I must say, are rather vaguely defined entities, as far as I’ve ever been able to tell. Various covens seem to identify with different deities. I’m wondering who they’ll invoke tonight.”

The priestess — that is to say, Moondancer — raised her hands in a gesture calling for quiet and attention. Then she announced, “Merry Meet, all ye faithful! We are gathered tonight for a sabbath unlike any other. We have the honor and privilege of taking part in the rebirth of this most ancient of sacred places.” She spread her arms, indicating the nearly-complete earthworks around them. “We are here to invoke God and Goddess and seek their blessing, to reconsecrate this place.” Then she indicated Trixie. “And our guest of honor is without peer: the Great and Powerful Trixie, most magical unicorn in all Equestria.”

Trixie took a bow as the wiccans spontaneously applauded her mere presence.

After a moment the priestess signaled silence once more and commanded, “Now all kneel and be anointed!” She began to make her way around the circle, using her fingertips to place a small dab of oil upon each forehead. The priest followed with a smoldering bundle of sage, ritually smudging each with the smoke while muttering an incantation. When Moondancer came to Trixie, she paused to carefully lift her wizard hat and set it aside, then she reached with her hand… Trixie braced herself, anxious for an instant that Moondancer was going to touch her horn. That wouldn’t have harmed her, but it was most definitely a faux pas among ponies. Her hand moved lower, though, and she placed a dab of the scented oil just forward of the base of Trixie’s horn.

Someone began rhythmically beating on a drum. While everyone else remained kneeling, the priest and priestess ritually swept the bounds of the circle, and perfumed it with incense. Next Moondancer pulled out a dagger from the folds of her robe, with a wicked-looking, wavy blade. Alarm bells went off in Trixie’s head, and every campfire story she’d ever heard about evil cultists and bloody sacrifices came surging to the front of her mind. Her haunches involuntarily tensed, and she almost launched into flight when something touched her shoulder. It was only Ivan, though, seeking to reassure her.

Moondancer held the dagger out for all to see. “With this athame blade I cut a boundary between our sacred circle and the mundane world.” She moved around the circle and mimed the action of slicing through the air, her motions becoming a dance in time with the drum beat.

She put away the dagger and said, “All rise!” The drums stilled. The priest joined her, and they offered brief invocations to the spirits at each of the four elemental shrines.

The couple went to stand and face one another between the main altar and the bonfire. Moondancer then intoned: “Horned God! Lover! Protector of the Earth! Cernunnos, you are needed now more than ever. I bid you manifest in your priest!”

The priest said, “Divine queen! Goddess of sovereignty, maker of kings! Rider of the shining white horse! Rhiannon, you are needed now more than ever. I bid you manifest in your priestess!”

They closed their eyes, bowed their heads for a moment, then stepped closer to one another and kissed. For several moments they held this kiss, while the crowd watched in reverent silence, then slowly priest and priestess drew apart.

Someone in the audience began to chant softly: “Awen! Awen! Awen!” Others picked up the chant.

The priest turned and stepped over to the main altar, his body a silhouette in front of the bonfire, raised his hands to silence the chanting, and then intoned: “Hear now the words of Cernunnos! A day of reckoning is close at hand. This old Earth is stirring. Spirits are rising amongst its mountains, its oceans, it’s forests, and in the ruins of civilizations gone and past. They demand that our world must not, shall not, be subsumed by another. Many will stumble and fall in this time of testing. War and Strife stalk the land, touching it where they will, and battles shall be fought in the skies, and the Great Deceiver shall play her hand.”

Then the priest stepped aside, and the priestess moved to the altar, and she intoned: “Hear now the words of Rhiannon! Wiccans… Britons… The blood of warriors flows in your veins. It calls you to rise to the challenge of our time. You must not let the hot blood lead you astray, though. The ponies are not your enemies, and the victory we seek cannot be won through force of arms. Your mission is one of creation and salvation. Even while the ignorant mock your efforts, you must rebuild the old straight paths and rediscover their full power; only then can our world be truly safe.”

There was silence for a few moments as that sunk in. Then she spread her hands and said, loudly: “Now let us raise magic!”

The drums resumed their beating. The priest and priestess then went around the circle directing various persons to raise magical energy. The group continued in this way, chanting, drumming, praying and dancing around the fire. Ivan assured Trixie that she was welcome to join in any activity that struck her fancy, but she demurred and sat upon her cushion and watched, trying to appear aloof.

After this had gone on for a while, the priestess came to Trixie and asked, “Do you feel the Cone of Power forming?”

“The what now?”

“All of this magical energy we are raising: it’s forming a Cone of Power. Do you feel it?”

“I, uh… Trixie is not certain.”

A shadow of disappointment crossed Moondancer’s face, but in a moment it passed — or she managed to conceal it. She reached out a finger toward the little unicorn’s horn, but stopped short of touching it when Trixie winced slightly. “But you already have a cone of power of your own, don’t you?” She quirked a smile, and turned away to continue her work with the other wiccans.

Ivan had also gone to join some other activity, and Trixie found herself left oddly alone and detached in the circle of most eccentric and puzzling humans, in the light of the fire. Even though they had been nothing but friendly and welcoming, she understood none of what they were doing, and she’d rarely felt so out-of-place in her life. She glanced up at the stars. They were supposed to hold the secrets of magic — at least as it was written in unicorn lore. She wondered if they could see her. What did they think of this spectacle?

Then her imagination carried her away, and she envisioned the view from far above — the flickering, ruddy light of the bonfire, the shadows of the dancers and the ancient stones, and the softly moonlit darkness of the landscape beyond. Trixie was a mere dot in the vast, awesome panorama of space and time — a performer on a stage beyond comprehension. A shiver went through her. After a few moments she shook off the waking dream and came back to reality. Unsettled, she blinked as she reoriented with her surroundings. She mused inwardly, “Are these humans getting under my skin? Or could there be something else…”

She closed her eyes for a moment and extended her senses, and her horn glowed very softly as she cast a simple spell to detect any other magic around her. Just like every time, it came up with nothing. As far as magic was concerned, Earth was a desert, a wasteland. Even the living humans around her felt more magically dead than lumps of clay. She sighed.

After the Cone of Power had been raised and dispersed, the priest and priestess came together once again to invoke the sacred marriage between god and goddess. The priest brought forth a chalice of ale, into which the priestess plunged the blade of her athame — the sacred knife. Then they blessed the ale and shared it with all present, offering each a token, ritual sip from the chalice. They wrapped up the ceremony by thanking and dismissing the elemental spirits and bidding farewell to the god and goddess, and ritually resealing the circle with the athame.

Then the ceremony was declared over, but nobody left. Instead people immediately began bringing into the circle beach towels, food and ale, and soon feasting and merrymaking were well underway all around the fire.

Trixie reclaimed her wizard hat, and she was rejoined by Ivan. Moondancer came over too, still wearing her ritual robes, and she sat down with them. Smiling she asked, “Well, Trixie, what did you think? Have you ever seen anything like this?”

“No, never!” she replied truthfully.

“And the magic power… Surely you felt something! Can you tell if the henge is active now?” Her eyes gleamed with eagerness.

Trixie gulped and looked around. In addition to her friends, a small crowd of humans were gathered around, watching her, listening, wanting an answer. Their faces were excited, hopeful. She knew what answer they wanted. She licked her dry lips and uttered, “Trixie did feel something tonight. She is sure that there is magic here.”

She was startled by the rousing cheer that went up around her, and she found herself suddenly picked up and hugged by Moondancer. She barely had a chance to respond before she was put back down, and Moondancer was announcing loudly to all the rest who hadn’t been close enough to hear at first: “Everyone listen! Our unicorn, The Great and Powerful Trixie, has pronounced our ceremony a success. This stone circle is now alive with magic!”

Then the festivities truly kicked into high gear, cider and ale flowed freely, music and dancing became general, and Trixie found herself being treated as if she’d just announced world peace and a rollback of the Barrier at the same time. The party continued late into the night.

Festooned with flowers and beaded necklaces, and somewhat lit up with ale, Trixie staggered into her room at Low Nest Farm after midnight. In a daze she sloughed off her cape, her hat, and the adornments that happy wiccans had garlanded her with, climbed awkwardly onto the high (by pony standards) bed, and barely managed to worm her way under the covers before passing out.

Through disjointed, disturbing dreams, a chiming sound intruded, pulling Trixie out of sleep. Part of her tried to cling to the dream, to remember it. Someone… someone very important had been very disappointed in her… The details slipped away as her phone kept chiming from its place on the tabletop. With a groan she raised her aching head, blinked her bleary eyes, and observed that sunlight was coming through the window.

With an effort she pushed back her sheets and rolled upright on the bed. She had left her phone on a table before going to the ceremony the previous evening. Even as she identified the source of the noise, it went silent. Trixie closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead with her pastern. She did not feel good, not at all.

After a couple of minutes she took a deep breath, focused on the phone and stylus, and tried to levitate them over to her. She winced. That felt even less good, but she persevered, and the phone wobbled its way across to her. The screen was dark, aside from the tiny sparkles of her magic. She tapped it with the stylus and got it turned on, then stared at the colorful icons and tried to remember how to operate the new and unfamiliar device. Humans used them as naturally as living and breathing, but the instructions she’d been given always seemed vague and difficult to remember. While she was pondering, the screen went dark again. She’d learned, to her frustration, that it went to sleep whenever she didn’t poke at it for a while. She sighed, and she woke it again and began poking at the screen with the stylus.

After a few more frustrating minutes of going in circles, she finally determined that Lord Peter had left her a message, and she got it to play. A tiny, tinny reproduction of his voice emitted from the gadget: “My dear Trixie, I just wanted to congratulate you! I got the news this morning. Everyone is buzzing about the successful ceremony last night. You can hardly know how much it means to me, and to everyone, to receive your confirmation that Castlerigg is coming back to life. I’ve already passed the news on to Katrina, and we’ll be hearing back from her soon. You’ve given us a new birth of hope. Good show, Trixie! Good show!”

Trixie stared at the phone for a minute, then dropped it onto the bedspread. She flopped onto her side, limply. Her eyes were open but staring at nothing. After a minute she muttered, “Sweet Celestia… What have I done?”

Author's Note

Thanks to Professor Google for research on Wiccan and Neopagan ritual. Apologies to any actual Wiccans out there if I mangled it too horribly.

Media Circus

Coffee existed in Equestria. Trade with the zebra and antelope nations had brought it over from Lopanga, but it had never gained widespread popularity among ponies. They generally preferred tea — and Princess Celestia herself remained a notorious tea drinker.

Trixie, however, had discovered the “mocha latte” since arriving on Earth. Back in New York she’d gotten these from a shop with the humorous (to a pony) name of Starbucks. They were costly drinks, but money hadn’t been a problem for her, and the coffee really perked her up.

There was coffee at the Low Nest Farm, but it was not a mocha latte. Rather, it was produced from a machine with little plastic pods, and it tasted to Trixie like gargling with dirt. She had, therefore, trotted over to Keswick and returned to the Honey Pot Cafe. The coffee here was made by a friendly woman, rather than by machines — which meant that it was even more expensive than before, but Trixie now had more money than she knew what to do with, thanks to Lord Peter’s largesse.

Trixie paid for her coffee using her phone — a skill she’d recently acquired with Moondancer’s assistance. The most widely accepted form of payment here, she’d learned, was the mysterious and intangible “bit coin” that only seemed to exist in computers and phones.

Unfortunately, the coffee proved too sweet and rather weak. She wondered if she should complain, or if this was simply how they made coffee in England? Had the barista assumed that a cute little pony would prefer a soft baby drink instead of something with bite?

As she sat in the Packhorse Court and sipped the disappointing brew, Trixie brooded. She knew she should tell everyone she had made a mistake. She’d been caught up in the heat of the moment, dazzled by the ceremony, and had only imagined a flicker of magic upwelling in the circle. Everyone would be disappointed, but they would accept it. She nodded to herself and resolved to do this — later in the day, when she saw Moondancer.

Wrapped up in her worries, she was startled when her phone buzzed. In a motion that was becoming second nature to her, she magically slipped the phone and stylus out from a sly pocket inside her hat, and she answered with the traditional “Ahoy, ahoy!” as Ivan had taught her. (Although, oddly, she’d never heard anyone else answer in this way.)

It was, in fact, his voice that responded. “Trixie, where are you?” His tone instantly alerted her.

“Trixie is in town, having coffee,” she replied. “What’s wrong?”

“Some of the media have begun sniffing around, and I’m not sure how much of a nuisance they’re going to be. Could you come back to the farmhouse when you get a chance?”

“Could I finish my coffee first?”

“Sure, sure! There’s no need to panic. I just thought we could hold a little meeting and make sure that everyone’s on the same page, and that we know what to do if they show up at the door.”

“Very well! Trixie shall make her way back to the farmhouse shortly.”

Trixie finished her coffee without hurry, then left the shop and wended through Keswick. Not even two miles, it was not a long distance by pony standards, although nearly double the walk from the farmhouse to the stone circle. She’d noticed that humans often used their cars for even the shortest journeys. Trixie did not intend to become that lazy if she could avoid it. She increased her gait to a comfortable, ground-covering trot.

The pavement was not the most comfortable to her hooves, and she pondered briefly whether she should get the new composite material horseshoes she’d seen advertised. Or maybe a set of boots just for these little excursions?

She glanced at one of the stately homes alongside the road — and the sign advertising vacancy. Keswick was littered with guest houses begging for occupants. She tried to imagine the tourists that had once thronged to this area. It might even have been fertile territory for a stage magician, in its heyday.

Perhaps someday the tourists would come back and Trixie could perform here, she mused. It was pleasant to imagine.

“HEY!” came a voice from above. Trixie skidded to a halt and blinked in surprise as a pegasus swooped down to an unsteady landing in front of her. He panted lightly, catching his breath for a moment as Trixie sized him up: of average build (for a pegasus anyhow), blue eyes, khaki tan coat, somewhat darker tawny mane and tail (neatly trimmed), flying goggles of form-fitted composite (obviously human made) and compact nylon saddlebags .

After a few moments Trixie ventured, “Beg pardon?”

He gulped and responded, “Oh, sorry! I haven’t seen many other ponies around here, so when I spotted you I thought I’d say hello. If that’s OK, I mean?” He smiled.

Somewhere underneath Trixie’s hat, her ears twitched. The accent was English, and a quick glance confirmed that this stallion had no sigil on his hip. He was a newfoal. She’d never had much one-on-one interaction with newfoals. She answered warily, “Trixie supposes that is okay.”

“Trixie, is it?”

She sat back and raised a fore-hoof to her chest to indicate herself. “The Great and Powerful Trixie, most magical unicorn in all of Equestria! And who might you be?”

“Whoah… Uh, you can call me Mojo.”

Skeptically she peered at him. “Mojo? That is a peculiar name for a pegasus. A mojo is a magical charm.”

“It is? I mean… My real name is Morris Jones. At the Conversion Bureau they encouraged us to pick a pony name. Mojo is just a nickname. So, what about you? Trixie isn’t a pony name, is it?”

“Why do humans keep asking that? It is a name for a pony that performs magic tricks.” She resumed walking down the lane, and Mojo fell in beside her. She mentioned, “Trixie has seen very few newfoals since arriving in England. What prompted you to get converted so soon, if I may ask?”

“It was medical. Cancer, you know.”

Trixie frowned. “I thought humans had a cure for that now?”

“Well, yes, in most cases. But it’s expensive. The medical insurance has stopped paying for that. They say if we’ll all have to be converted anyhow, and almost any illness gets sorted out by the Potion, then there’s no need to spend the money on curing someone as a human.”

Trixie frowned. “I suppose that’s… logical.”

Mojo shrugged. “I was upset about that at first. But now I try to look at it positively. I got a head start on everyone else. I’m as healthy as a horse now! And flying… Flying is good.” They walked along in silence for a few moments, and then he asked, “So, what’s the most magical unicorn in all Equestria doing here in Cumbria?”

“Consulting work. Some humans required the advice of an expert in arcane matters, so of course they turned to Trixie.”

“I heard about the ceremony at Castlerigg!”

Trixie glanced at him with one eye, without turning her head. “You did?”

“Sure… Friend of a friend. Word gets around. They said it was pretty amazing.”

Trixie nodded. “It was most certainly a night to remember! The Wiccans invited Trixie to join their rituals, and we raised a magical Cone of Power from the stone circle.”

“What’s a cone of power?”

She was quiet for a moment as she collected her thoughts. It occurred to her that she didn’t actually know what the Cone of Power was even supposed to be or do. Nobody at the ceremony had bothered to explain it in so many words. But she couldn’t say that. She ventured, “It is a construct of mystical energies, enabling spells to be cast. The priestess drew a comparison between the Cone of Power and Trixie’s horn, in fact.”

“So… These Wiccans were able to actually cast spells?”

“That was the basic idea,” she answered noncommittally.

“Uhh… I flew over the stone circle just a little while ago, and there were bulldozers and a lot of bare dirt all around it.”

“Yes, they are rebuilding the henge to its former glory.”

“The Wiccans are doing that?”

“No. It was Katrina’s idea.”

The pegasus stumbled slightly, as if he’d tripped over some slight irregularity of the pavement. He quickly caught up and asked, “Did you say Katrina? As in, Kemetic Church? Egypt? The Golden Dawn?”

“You’ve heard of them? Well, as she explained it to me, Katrina’s theory is that the Equestrian Emergence and the advancing Barrier are symptoms of a magical imbalance between our two worlds. By re-awakening Earth’s own magic, we hope to restore balance and alleviate the situation.”

“I see. And as an expert on magic, what’s your opinion?”

“It’s, uh… not implausible. The idea seems worth investigating, which is why Trixie is here.”

“So how is that connected with the Wiccans? Does their Cone of Power mean it’s starting to work?”

“It is too soon to say. Castlerigg is not even repaired yet, and there is much more work ahead. Even if we have success here, many more such monuments may need to be reconstructed to achieve our goal.”

“Like, say… Stonehenge?” he prompted.

“Exactly. We have had some discussion about that one. But all of that would be dependent on what happens here. So, that remains somewhere in the future.”

He nodded. “It’s OK, I understand. I think I’ve got all I needed anyhow. End recording!” His goggles beeped.

Trixie stopped in her tracks and blinked at him. “Say what now?”

“Oh by the way, I work for the Sun. Thanks for the interview!” Then he flapped his wings and took off, leaving Trixie with her jaw hanging open. After a moment she uttered a strangled curse and galloped for the farmhouse.

Trixie caught her breath for a couple of minutes upon reaching the farmhouse, then went to the lounge where she found the others already gathered.

Ivan was first to greet her. “Come on in! Sit! You didn’t run all the way here, did you? I told you there wasn’t any need to panic.”

Trixie sat on the floor and said, “Ivan. Listen. Trixie spoke with a reporter.”

Smithers looked up from his book, and Moondancer put down her phone. Ivan leaned forward, brow furrowed. “Eh what? When was this?”

“It was just now, on the way over here! A newfoal pegasus swooped down and introduced himself, and he struck up conversation. He wanted to know what we were doing with the stone circle, so Trixie told him.”

Ivan blinked. “You… Why did you do that? I just warned you over the phone about reporters snooping.”

“No! No, you did not warn Trixie about reporters. You said something called ‘the media’ was sniffing around. Trixie does not know what the media is. She thought it might be something related to a hydra.”

Moondancer added, “Yeah, give her a break. I don’t think they have ambush journalism in Equestria.”

Ivan squeezed his beard in his hand, as he sometimes did when flustered or when thinking hard. Then he asked, “What did you tell him?”

“Uh… Not much. I only told him what Katrina explained to me about trying to turn back the Barrier.”

Ivan and Smithers both groaned. Smithers shook his head and said, “If you named Katrina, then they can piece together everything and everybody in between, from Lord Peter to Ivan and the National Trust and even to me. And then they’ll want to know what kind of strings were pulled to even get this project approved. Mark my words, it’ll be a huge scandal.”

Trixie sighed. “I’m sorry.”

Moondancer smirked. “Well, I feel better now. I thought Ivan was going to rake me over the coals because some of my followers tweeted about the ceremony. That doesn’t seem so bad now.”

Ivan shook his head. “That might be what tipped off this pegasus reporter. And I don’t know what to expect. Maybe it’ll just be a minor story. Unless the tabloids jump on it. They’re like sharks. Did the reporter say who he works for?”

Trixie thought for a moment. “I think he said the Sun.”

“Oh heaven help us!” Ivan buried his face in his hands.

Soon…

Trixie pulled the curtain aside just enough to peer out the front window of the farmhouse. Satellite trucks with the logos of various news agencies clogged the yard, while reporters and cameramen milled about. For a few moments there was relative calm, until one of them caught sight of her and yelled. Cameras swiveled toward the window, and reporters rushed forward with microphones in hand.

Trixie ducked back and let the curtain fall into place. Shouted questions were muffled by the insulated glass. She shuddered. “This is worse than a hydra,” she muttered to herself.

Back in her room, she toyed with her phone, magically poking at it with the stylus. It had been completely confusing at first, but it was gradually becoming somewhat less so. It also had a voice interface. She spoke to it and ordered: “Umi, call the Honeypot Cafe!”

The little synthetic voice from the phone responded, “I found one Honeypot Cafe nearby.”

“Yes, yes… Call the number!”

The screen changed to show it was dialing. After a few moments a woman’s voice came through. “Honeypot Cafe!”

“The Great and Powerful Trixie requires a mocha latte, if you please!”

“Trixie? Oh, the little pony who came in before! I can fix you a mocha. It’ll be about five minutes.”

“Please make it stronger than last time! Also, Trixie requires delivery to the Low Nest Farm.”

“Uhh… You want us to deliver a coffee?”

“Trixie is unable to leave the Low Nest Farm at this time. Can you do this?”

“Yes we can. There’s a fee for that. Is it alright if we fly it out to you?”

Trixie perked her ears. She didn’t know human businesses had already begun to employ pegasus couriers. “Yes, that would be lovely!”

“I’ll get it right out to you, then!” In a moment a request for payment popped up on the screen.

Pleased, Trixie used her stylus to approve the payment, then hung up the phone. She dawdled a few minutes in her room, then made her way to the back of the farmhouse and the fenced yard where there was some degree of privacy from the media mob. There she found Ivan and Smithers sitting on lounge chairs, having an animated conversation about… she wasn’t sure what, actually. Something about archery, she guessed, particularly since there was a quiver of arrows laying on the ground nearby, and a bow clutched in Ivan’s hands. By Equestrian standards the bow was a curious and exotic weapon, used sometimes by minotaurs but utterly unsuited to ponies.

She sat down to listen in.

Ivan explained, “A longbow made for hunting, like this one, only has a draw weight around fifty or sixty pounds. But war bows were made with a draw as heavy as a hundred eighty pounds. It took years of practice to use one effectively, and it was so stressful to the body that you can recognize the skeleton of a trained archer. The left arm became bigger, the bone thicker, and they have bone spurs on the left wrist and shoulder and on the fingers of the right hand.”

Smithers wondered, “Why were the bows made so heavy? It was because of armor?”

“That’s right. Arrows had to travel a couple hundred yards through the air and then have enough force remaining to punch through armor.” A buzzing noise caught his attention, interrupting his discourse. Eyes turned skyward, he spotted an insect-like machine approaching. “Look at that! It’s a bloody news drone.”

Trixie and Smithers both looked, and Smithers said, “Another one? You might think they’d get the message by now.”

“I’ve got this!” Ivan said, as he reached for an arrow. He stood up, nocked the arrow and pointed it, moving his entire upper body as he tracked the motion of the drone. In a fluid motion he drew and released, launching the arrow on an arched trajectory that perfectly intercepted the flying machine. There was a clash and clatter as the arrow lodged in the drone, and it tumbled from the sky to bounce on the grassy yard.

“Good shot!” Smithers exclaimed.

Ivan grinned. “We should start putting up drones on pikes. It would serve as a grim warning.”

Smithers walked over to the drone, still whirring and clicking. “Here now, what’s this?” he wondered as he picked it up. The arrow had pierced straight through a white container, from which a hot, brown liquid was now dribbling out.

“Noooooooo!!” Trixie wailed. “My coffee!”

Some while later, after apologies and reparations had been made to the Honeypot Cafe, and Trixie had finally gotten some decent coffee in her magical grasp, she sat in the privacy of her room and watched the talking heads on TV.

“The Senior Enchanter from the London Conversion Bureau, Silver Comet, is with us in the studio. Silver, what do you make of this statement by Trixie that the Wiccans raised a Cone of Power and cast spells using it?”

The slate-blue, silver-maned unicorn looked uncomfortable, sitting on his haunches upon a human chair behind the news desk. He stammered, “I, umm… Well, it’s certainly a remarkable claim. I’m unfamiliar with the Cone of Power; that’s not a term we use in Equestrian magic, to the best of my knowledge.”

“But is it plausible, from your viewpoint, that these Wiccans could have cast spells?”

“It’s, um… Hard to say for sure. All we have is a rather vague statement from Trixie. She didn’t specify what kinds of spells were cast, or what the result was. It’s not even completely clear that she didn’t provide some kind of magical assistance — intentional or otherwise — to the, uh, witches.”

The news anchor prompted, “Maybe you could give our viewers some context. Have there been any other instances of human spell-casting, to your knowledge?”

“Eh, not really. Shortly after the Emergence, when we established relations with your world, unicorn scholars came through and did some investigations into human traditions of magic, and claims of psychic powers as well. They were never able to locate any humans with a detectable magical aura, nor find any firm evidence that any humans were able to perform even the smallest magical working. The consensus opinion they reached at the time was that magic in the human world was nothing more than mythology.”

The human nodded. “I see. But we do also have mythology about unicorns, pegasus, dragons, and many other things from your world.”

“That is true, and it’s an enduring mystery. The best guess of our scholars is that our worlds must have existed in close parallel for thousands of years, and there was some sort of psychic connection, or leakage if you will, between them. I mean, consider our language! There are also many things that exist in Equestria that are best explained by some kind of mysterious influence from your world as well. Doorknobs. Stringed instruments. Golf.”

The news anchor chuckled, then offered another question. “What about The Great and Powerful Trixie, Most Magical Unicorn in All Equestria? What do you know of her?”

Silver blinked. “Frankly, I had never heard of her before today. I think I would have if she were prominent in the ranks of any of the larger magical orders, or if she had been published in the enchanter’s journals, which is my specialty. The titles she claimed for herself are, uh, somewhat eccentric, I must say. However, there are some magical traditions among unicorns that are more obscure or secretive in nature. So, I would defer on that question, and suggest sending enquiries back to Equestria for more information about her credentials.”

*click*

“Trixie never wanted to be published in your stupid journals, you pointy-headed boffin!” she snarled at the black and silent TV screen.

She flopped onto the bed and muttered softly to herself. Her thoughts churned, expressing an inner monologue, “What am I going to tell them now? It would have been hard enough to tell my friends I made a mistake, but how can I tell the whole world? Both worlds! How can I tell everypony who ever laughed at me? I can’t do it… If I keep quiet and just don’t encourage them anymore, they’ll all forget eventually.”

That night Lord Peter Feathing-Walthamstone phoned. Katrina, he informed them all, had decided to respond to the media frenzy by going public. She would personally fly out to Castlerigg to hold a press conference at the site of the stone circle itself.

The next afternoon, as the shadows of the standing stones lengthened, Trixie found herself standing in the circle alongside Moondancer and Ivan and Smithers and between them — with countless cameras and microphones pointed toward her — stood Katrina.

Katrina looked much as she had when Trixie met her before, though she had a new outfit: a thin turtleneck sweater of olive green, matching green pantsuit and platform boots, an artfully disheveled tangle of necklaces with wooden beads and antique coins, and a slim wristwatch. Once again her garb was stylish yet relatively mundane, belying her feline face and giving no clue to the exotic titles used at her introduction. Trixie noted, also, that Katrina had on a sleek, and presumably custom-made, pair of electronic smart glasses. Trixie might not have recognized their significance if not for her recent encounter with Mojo.

Trixie admired her stage presence. If Katrina felt any qualms about addressing the world, and potentially many millions of people, she hid them well. She smiled easily, kept her ears upright, and her seemingly relaxed and unruffled demeanor was quite unlike the brash stage persona Trixie had developed for her performances. However, Trixie caught a glimpse of Katrina’s tail tip flicking anxiously back and forth. Perhaps she was not so calm on the inside.

When everyone was in position, Katrina began her comments to the world: “Good evening! Most of you know me as the leader of The Kemetic Orthodox Church, a growing movement to revive the traditions of ancient Egypt. However, the topic of today is one that extends far beyond our religion and is of concern to all the people of this world. I am referring, of course, to the emergence of Equis and the ever-expanding Barrier.”

“When the Emergence occurred, I was faced with a conundrum. Magic is central to our Kemetic traditions. Yet, Equis’s existence drew a sharp contrast to the withered state of magical practice in our world. I was forced to question many assumptions and ponder the eventual fate of myself and my followers.”

“As I studied this problem, I discovered that the Emergence and the advancing Barrier are the result of a magical imbalance. There was Equis, a world bursting at the seams with magic, and here was Earth, where the age of magic was buried and forgotten. It was only a matter of time before the one overflowed into the other and overwhelmed it.”

“This insight, however, also suggested a solution. If we could uncover the native magic of Earth and reawaken it, then perhaps the balance could be restored — if it’s not too late. Perhaps, then, the Barrier could be stopped or even pushed back.”

“The beginning of this project was more than a year ago. During this time I, along with my trusted followers of the Kemetic Order of the Golden Dawn, have done our research, laid our plans, recruited those of apt skills, and gained permission to test our theory here at Castlerigg.”

She gestured to her left side. “The Wiccans, represented here by the priestess, Moondancer, are not part of our Kemetic order. They have their own traditions, so unlike ours in many ways, and yet they have become friends and allies in this great undertaking. It was their ceremony that brought the spark of life back to these old stones.” Then she gestured to her right side. “And it was this unicorn, the Great and Powerful Trixie, who confirmed their success through her own analysis.” Trixie gave a bow when she was indicated and projected outward confidence — despite her stomach doing flip-flops. She might be used to appearing before crowds, but this was outside of her comfort zone.

Katrina continued, “However, this is only the beginning of our quest, and time is not on our side. When everything was uncertain, we shunned publicity. That time is past. The work ahead will require many hands, far more than the small cadre that we have assembled here. I call upon people all across the land to join us and reawaken the age of magic! Those who volunteer will not be asked to believe in our religion, nor declare loyalty to me. Put your faith in a future for mankind on this Earth, and that will be enough!”

Her eyes scanned the reporters, and she said, “I can entertain a few questions.” Hands went up, and Katrina indicated one of them.

“Is it even legal to alter a prehistoric site in Britain?”

Katrina’s feline eyes flicked, reading some notes from her smart glasses, and then she answered: “The National Trust is responsible for the preservation of all such monuments in Britain. Their mandate, rigorously adhered until now, has been protection and preservation without tampering. I am certain that giving us permission to proceed was not an easy decision, nor one taken lightly. With the future of mankind now at stake, I would argue that this is the moment these relics from another time have been waiting so patiently for. Though we knew it not, this is the true reason we have kept them through the ages. The question of whether — and when — to begin restoration of other such monuments around Britain and around the world will now, I’m sure, be debated openly. However, we must all be mindful that the Barrier is advancing day by day. If this is to be done at all, it must be done soon, and quickly, not after years of debate.”

She looked to the crowd and indicated another reporter. The question came: “Are you going to do something like this in Egypt too? The pyramids, maybe?”

She nodded. “Egypt was, of course, the original home of our faith. I am pleased to note that more and more followers have joined us there in recent times. However, the government of Egypt has, thus far, been unresponsive to our entreaties. I hope that what we accomplish here may sway them. If this plan is to work, it must spread far beyond Britain, beyond Egypt, and beyond all other national boundaries. It must become a global movement.”

The next question came. “Can you tell us exactly what led you to this theory that you can stop the Barrier, and what evidence do you have to support that?”

Katrina frowned slightly. “The explanation would be too involved to delve into here-and-now, and a full report on the subject is not yet finished. That information will be forthcoming.”

Another reporter asked, “What exactly happened at the Wiccan ceremony here? We’ve never been given a clear account of it.”

Katrina demurred. “I was not present for that. However, both Trixie and Moondancer were there. Would either of you care to answer?”

The two glanced at one another uncertainly, then Moondancer stepped forward and said, “I was the Priestess who led the ceremony. As we have always done, we performed our rituals and raised a Cone of Power from the circle. Then we invoked the higher spirits to commune with us and lend us guidance.”

The reporter pressed her, saying, “But Christianity and Judaism and Islam don’t have any tradition like that, do they? Katrina said we don’t have to believe in her religion, but ultimately you’re suggesting we all go pagan in some way, aren’t you?”

“Uhh…” Moondancer looked helplessly to Katrina, who then stepped forward to answer.

She explained, “The Judao-Christian faiths have a conflicted relationship with the concept of magic and some have tried to equate it with devil worship. However, I would remind everyone that Moses was trained in the magical traditions of Egypt, and when he came to the Pharaoh he performed feats of magic to establish his credentials. You might call them miracles, but from my perspective it’s a distinction without a difference. Today’s denominations may need to re-examine their views of this subject, but to suggest that they all need to convert is unwarranted.”

Another reporter: “A question for Trixie, if I may?” She nodded to him, and he continued, “Can you tell us, from your viewpoint, how the Wiccan ceremony compared with unicorn magic?”

“It was very different!” she declared. “Trixie has been privileged to begin studying a new field of magic utterly unknown to the scholars of Equestria, and it will be fascinating to see what develops from it.”

Another reporter pushed forward. “Trixie, on the subject of scholars, some sources in Equestria have described you as an entertainer or stage magician. What are your credentials?”

She took a step forward and raised her voice, sounding more like the performer she was. “The Great and Powerful Trixie is not like those stuffy academics hiding their ivory towers. While they debate abstractions with one another, Trixie has been out in the wide world, applying her knowledge and amazing skills to the betterment of ponykind! When the ponies of Hooftington were threatened by the dreaded Ursa Major, Trixie was there to vanquish the monster. When Foal Mountain was plagued with parasprites, Trixie was there to remove the pests! When the river overflowed its banks in Rainbow Falls, Trixie was there to redirect the flood! Exhibiting spellcraft on stage is merely a satisfying way for Trixie to hone her craft and support her travels.”

The next morning, Trixie pulled the curtain aside just enough to peer out the front window of the farmhouse. “They’re still here?” she muttered.

“Look closer,” Moondancer suggested. “That isn’t the press.”

Trixie looked closer. Instead of satellite vans she saw ordinary cars parked up and down the side of the lane, and the front yard was crowded with humans of all sorts, male and female, young and old, of varied shapes and sizes and wearing all manner of garb. They seemed to have nothing in common.

Moondancer ruffled Trixie’s mane lightly with her hand and said, “Those are our volunteers. The first, anyhow. I think this is only the beginning. Let’s go out and meet them, shall we?”

Author's Note

The story is rejuvenated with a new name, new intro, new chapter! Huzzah!

FYI: MoJo = Mobile Journalist

The Bishop of Barf

With the influx of volunteers, the need to understand the system of ley lines became more pressing. Until now it had been a hypothetical exercise, since they didn’t have the manpower to work on — or even survey — any sites beyond Castlerigg.

Ivan, Smithers, Trixie and Moondancer put their heads together for a strategy session. Ivan had his notebook computer open on the dining room table in the farmhouse, displaying a map of England. He turned it so they could all see the screen, and he pointed out the difficulty. “If we assume that we’re only going to restore the largest neolithic sites at first, and if we further assume that we need to link them together with ley lines, then we have to carefully survey paths in a straight line between them.” With a stylus in hand, he pointed at the map. “Stonehenge is here. Avebury is here. And Castlerigg is here.”

“But that’s almost all the way across England!” Moondancer objected.

Ivan stroked his beard. “Unfortunately, yes. In retrospect I wish we’d started with the Rollright Stones. Then it would have been a relatively shorter jump to Avebury, and then to Stonehenge, all very neat.”

Smithers interjected, “I think you’re getting quite far ahead of yourself, if you’re planning to do anything with Avebury or Stonehenge. So far all you’ve got is the unbridled enthusiasm of a few eccentrics and the opinion of one unicorn. There’s no evidence.”

Trixie’s stylus, sparkling with the magenta scintillations of her magic, floated over the map. She pointed at a circular mark not too far away, still within Cumbria. “What’s this?”

Ivan reached over and zoomed the map on it. “Mayburgh Henge. There are two other henges within a stone’s throw from it, called King Arthur’s Round Table and Little Round Table. It must have been quite a complex in its time.”

“Why don’t we restore that?” Trixie wondered.

Ivan shook his head. “I’ve been there. Look…” He switched to satellite view. “It’s in the middle of a village with roads on all sides. There’s a road cutting right into King Arthur’s Round Table, and there’s almost nothing left of Little Round Table.”

Trixie asked him to zoom out again, and she stared intently at the map, then she moved her stylus to another mark. “What about this one?”

Ivan zoomed in on that, and grunted. “Huh. Swinside Stone Circle. It’s roughly similar in size to Castlerigg, if I recall right. Possibly bigger.”

“I’ve been there,” Moondancer contributed. “It’s relatively well preserved.”

Trixie suggested, “Why not use that as our next test subject? If we could rebuild both of these henges and link them together with a working ley line, that might be all the proof we need.”

Ivan scratched his chin and nodded slowly. “It’s a bit of diversion, but you’re right. We can’t just strike off across the countryside for hundreds of miles without a better idea of what we’re doing. We could put our volunteers to work scouting every possible ley point marker between here and Swinside, though. That’s manageable. I have no idea whether there was ever a prehistoric ley line between them or if we’ll have to improvise one entirely from scratch.”

Smithers glared at the map. “This isn’t going to be rubber-stamped by the National Trust. They’ll expect an archaeological review and a detailed plan for any changes to Swinside before they even contemplate allowing it — just like you did for Castlerigg.”

“Oh come off it!” Ivan exploded, throwing his hands up. “We’ll have to rebuild dozens, maybe hundreds, of monuments to make this work. We can’t go through that kind of red tape for each of them. The Barrier will roll right over all of us before we could ever complete all that.”

Smithers held his ground. “I’m still not confident that there’s anything of value to this project at all. Meanwhile, what we don’t need is a bunch of well-meaning amateurs running riot over these sites with blundering ignorance, destroying our history.”

Ivan didn’t answer immediately, but instead pursed his lips and looked down at the map. It was Moondancer who spoke up, gently, and said, “Maybe we should have a little more faith in those blundering, ignorant amateurs. These monuments were built by the people with their own hands. They belong to the people, not to your learned experts. They’re part of the land. You can’t lock them up in a museum.”

Smithers gave an exasperated sigh. “If only we could! If you destroy it, you can’t get it back.” He glanced meaningfully at Ivan. “You know what state Avebury is in, right? It’s much, much worse than Mayburgh. How are you going to deal with that?”

Ivan looked up. “No, she’s right. Think about this for a moment! The henges were built, used, altered and rebuilt for centuries. Then the Romans came and cut graffiti on them.” He lifted his hands and mimed carving with a hammer and chisel. “Naughtius Maximus was here!”

He continued, “Then the Christians came and destroyed a lot of them, toppling the stones and putting up crosses where menhirs once stood, churches in place of henges. Farmers dug pits and built bonfires to shatter the stones, to clear their fields. Then the industrial revolution came, and we cut railroads and highways through them. All of those upheavals left a mark, became part of the history that you’re so determined to protect. And now we’re having another great upheaval.”

Ivan reclaimed his notebook from the table. “Smithers… You’ve got a notion that history is all in the past. Now we’re going to make some. And at least we’ll be building instead of tearing down.”

Smithers scowled and looked ready to retort, but Trixie interrupted their dispute, saying, “We’ll need more maps. Real ones, on paper that I can write on. I can’t work with computers like this.”

“I agree,” Moondancer chimed in. “Get us a line to those scholars that Lord Peter supposedly has on the payroll! They can print up their maps and send them to us by courier. And get us a big table where we can spread them out! And we’ll need computers too, so we can look at the satellite views.”

Ivan nodded. “Consider it done.”

After a few phone calls Ivan arranged to rent a studio apartment in one of the outbuildings of the Low Nest Farm. It was Smithers, despite his misgivings, who suggested buying a large map plotter so Lord Peter’s researchers could transmit maps to the farm, where they could be printed on demand. Trixie hadn’t known that was possible. To her it was just another example of human techno-wizardry.

While the new workspace was being prepared, Trixie and Moondancer decided to spend a day exploring the countryside around Keswick. Moondancer had suggested, “I’ve already got our lunch. We can go for a drive around and make a picnic of it.”

Trixie made a face. “Must we?”

Moondancer’s smile faded. “You don’t want to go with me?”

“Trixie does not understand the human infatuation with cars.”

“But this is a perfect day for riding with the top down!”

Trixie snurled her nose. “How can you see anything when whizzing past?”

“Well, we don’t have to drive fast, do we? We don’t have anywhere to be, or any schedule to get there.”

“So, just… ride around? Aimlessly?”

Moondancer nodded. “Come on, it’ll be fun! Try something new!”

Trixie rolled her eyes and gave in. “Very well. Trixie shall humor you today.”

Shortly thereafter, with a resigned sigh, Trixie climbed into the very small white roadster while Moondancer stowed their lunch in the back, then slipped into the driver’s seat. Trixie watched as she fastened her seat belt. “Do I need one of those?” she asked.

Moondancer shook her head. “It wouldn’t fit you properly. It might do more harm than good. You’ll just have to trust the air bags — and my driving.” She thumbed the R button, placed her hands on the wheel, and the car began to roll back out of its parking space, gravel lightly crunching under the tires.

“Why doesn’t your car drive itself?” Trixie wondered. Most of the cars she’d seen did, with the notable exception of Lord Peter’s chauffeured limousine.

“Piffle! The whole point of a sports car is that it’s fun to drive.” She thumbed the D button and pulled out onto the motorway leading to Keswick.

Trixie tried leaning back in the seat, a pose that was only slightly awkward for a pony. To her surprise, she could see out the windows. She had to practically stand up on her hind legs to see out of most other human vehicles. She turned her head to watch Moondancer, mildly curious about how the car was controlled. The steering wheel was obvious, but it took a few moments to realize there were foot pedals too.

Moondancer chattered happily, “A lot of Wiccans feel the same as you about cars, Trixie. I’ve heard it all: They’re wasteful, bad for the planet, bad for our bodies, bad for our society. It may be so. But everyone has some sort of vice, so I guess this little runabout is mine. I could have picked a worse one, right?”

They rolled silently down the lane at a modest pace, and Trixie felt the sun on her face, and the warm breeze rustling through her mane, and she heard the calls of birds, and she grudgingly admitted to herself that this was not unpleasant.

They slowed to a stop at an intersection, made a left turn, and then Moondancer said, casually, “Hang on!”

“Whut?” was all Trixie managed, then the car’s electric motor gave forth a queer whine, and Trixie was flung back against her seat. For a few seconds her startled shriek mingled with Moondancer’s giddy laughter, then the surge of acceleration eased off.

“It’s zippy, isn’t it?” Moondancer prompted, then giggled more.

“Trixie wants out now!” the little unicorn gasped, trying to brace her hooves against any solid surface she could reach. “You said we wouldn’t go fast.”

“That wasn’t fast. Not really, you baby!” Her tone was contrite, though. “OK, I’m slowing down, we’ll go nice and slow.” The motor whined again, more softly, as the car decelerated, then it silently coasted into the village.

Trixie’s taut muscles relaxed, but she still groused, “That was not funny!”

Moondancer smirked. “I thought it was — but I’m sorry. I won’t do that again.” She paused for a few seconds, then added, “I mean, not unless you want to and are ready for it.”

“Fat chance of that,” Trixie grumbled.

They cruised through Keswick, across the valley, then turned north through Braithwaite and onto the Thornthwaite road. They’d only just coasted through the hamlet of Thornthwaite itself when something caught Trixie’s eye. She stood up in her seat and pointed with a hoof. “What’s that?”

Moondancer slowed the car and looked. Trixie was pointing towards a white object halfway up the side of a small mountain, or fell. She wondered, “Is that a standing stone?”

“It’s an odd place for one. I don’t remember seeing it on any of our maps,” Trixie said. “And why is it bright white?”

Moondancer speculated, “Maybe some of our eager followers hiked up there and painted it. Somebody here could probably tell us.” She pulled over into the driveway of an establishment that turned out to be the Swan Hotel. They parked the car and ventured inside, where they found an older, bearded gentleman.

“May I help you?” he started to enquire, then blinked and exclaimed, “Here now, you’re the ones that were on the news. And what an adorable little unicorn!”

Being adorable and little, as humans saw her, was something Trixie still hadn’t entirely come to terms with. She indicated herself with a hoof. “The Great and Powerful Trixie, if you please!”

“Oh, of course, Ma’am! No disrespect meant.”

Moondancer introduced herself as well, and then she asked the man about the white monument they’d seen. He was more than happy to share what he knew. “What you’ve espied out there, Ma’am, is the Bishop of Barf.”

He ignored Moondancer’s befuddled expression and some choking sounds from Trixie, and he went on: “Y’see, the Bishop of Derry was traveling when he stopped right here in the Swan Hotel, yay long ago. A bishop he might have been, but he was a devil for the drink, and after he’d got right sloshed he made a bet with one of our locals that he could ride his pack pony straight up the side of Barf Fell, all the way to the summit. Well of course he didn’t make it. He got to right about where that big rock juts up, and he took a nasty tumble. Killed the both of them, horse and rider alike.”

He went on, “They were buried not far from here, at the base of the mountain. Ever since then, for more than two hundred years, we’ve kept the memory of his drunken ride by whitewashing that rock, and named it the Bishop of Barf in his honor. And there’s a smaller stone painted white too, marking the grave site.”

Moondancer and Trixie both giggled at the story. Then, after their mirth had run its course, Moondancer asked, “But it’s a natural outcrop of rock, isn’t it?”

The man nodded. “Aye, it’s a part of the mountain.”

Moondancer shook her head. “We thought maybe some of our volunteers had found a menhir and painted it.”

The man scratched his beard and asked, “Is is true, you’re going to raise all those old stones and save us?”

She answered honestly, “We’re going to try our best and see what comes of it, Goddess be willing.”

Trixie interrupted, “It’s not a bad idea, though.”

Moondancer looked down at her. “What is?”

“Painting the stones,” Trixie elaborated. “White paint would make them more visible and make them look fresh and new.”

Moondancer mulled that over for a few moments, then nodded. “They’d look like they were born anew. It would give more of the volunteers something to do, as well. That’s a great idea, Trixie. Let’s give the order as soon as we get back to the farm, shall we?”

They chatted briefly with the fellow, but soon enough departed and continued their scenic drive with the fells rising on their left and Bassenthwaite Lake to their right. Cattle and sheep grazed in pastures bounded by quaint drystone walls. Trixie rubbernecked, and finally commented, “This country is beautiful!”

“It is! How does it compare with Equestria, I wonder?”

Trixie had to think about that for a few moments. “I’ve been all over Equestria. Some parts could rival this. Rainbow Falls, maybe.”

They drove around the periphery of the lake, crossed the River Derwent and rolled past any number of tourist traps: many now closed, though some of the more modest still kept their doors open. They returned down the opposing lake side past Skiddaw until they located an enticing picnic area not far from the water, with a small stream nearby flowing into the lake. Finding they had the small park all to themselves, they took their pick of the provided tables and unpacked their lunch.

Trixie sniffed. “What kind of sandwiches are these?”

“Tofu salad with cranberries and pecans on whole wheat bread!” Moondancer answered happily. She pointed, “And we have fruit salad. A flask of tea. And…” She lifted a container out of the basket. “Carrot cake!”

“Ooh, lovely!” Trixie settled down with a plate and began to levitate the goodies onto it. She took a nibble from her sandwich, and nodded approvingly as she chewed. After a few moments a frown formed, though.

Moondancer noticed. “You don’t like it?”

“Huh?” Trixie swallowed. “No, it’s not that. I was just thinking about something. I saw on the news that a lot of humans are living on something called Soylent now.” She looked to her companion with an unspoken request to share her thoughts.

She averted her gaze from Trixie and said, “A lot of people don’t have a job and don’t have any money. But nobody starves. They can always get Soylent. It’s… not so bad, really.”

Trixie gazed contemplatively at her nibbled-on sandwich. “It’s because of the Convergence too, isn’t it?”

Moondancer shook her head. “No, no it’s not. Machines were taking all the jobs before we ever had any contact with your world. Our world has always been messed up, Trixie. Our problems didn’t all start when we met ponies. Now go on, enjoy your food!”

They had barely made a dent in their sandwiches when a voice called out from above. “Hoy!” They looked up to see a tan pegasus flaring his wings as he glided down to a landing.

Trixie hopped to her feet and narrowed her eyes to glare at Mojo. “YOU!” she accused.

He took a startled step back, his wings still open. “What? No, don’t be like that!”

Trixie scowled. “Don’t be like that? How dare you!? How dare you even show your face to me!”

“You’ve got me all wrong!” he insisted. “I did you a favor. Haven’t you ever heard there’s no such thing as bad publicity? And it worked out pretty well for you, dinnit? No harm, no foul, right? Look at all the support you’ve got now!”

“You tricked me!”

“Only a little, only a little. I mean, I was a perfect stranger. You don’t tell your big secrets to a perfect stranger that you just met, am I right?”

Moondancer had watched this exchange. Now she jabbed a finger at Mojo, “Why are you even here now? And how did you find us?”

“You kind of stand out, no offense. I just thought maybe we could do a follow-up interview.”

Trixie interjected, “Follow…!? Are you crazy? Why should I give you anything?”

He sat on the ground, on his haunches and gestured with his arms, thumping his chest with a hoof. “I can help you tell your story to the world. Just give me a chance! I get my scoop, and you get an audience of millions. It’s win-win!”

“No! Go away!”

Mojo crossed his arms. “I’m not going anywhere until you give me something.”

Trixie gritted her teeth and muttered, “There’s a poor choice of words.” Magenta sparkles flared to life around Trixie’s horn, along with the subtle, almost musical sounds of a magical discharge.

In an instant Mojo’s entire body was engulfed in sparkles, and he was lifted off the ground. “Hey! Hey, what?!” he blurted as he flailed his wings and legs ineffectually. “Let me go!”

Trixie marched him over to the stream while he squirmed and pleaded. Then she yelled at him, “Invoke not the wrath of a wizard, or spend your day as a slimy lizard!” A powerful burst of magic obscured his outline for a moment, then dissipated and dropped him into the stream.

Moondancer stared, wide-eyed, her hands covering her mouth for a moment until she managed to gasp, “What did you do to him?”

Trixie’s voice boomed out, as though reverting to her on-stage habits, “Fret not! Trixie’s spell shall wear off shortly — with no harm done, merely a lesson learned.” She gazed at where Mojo was flopping and sputtering in the muddy stream and more softly added, “Uhh… We should get out of here before that happens.”

By the time they’d hastily gathered up their lunch and sped off, the tension had broken, and they both giggled as if they were making a successful getaway from a bank robbery. After swinging through Keswick yet again, they found another picnic spot in the shadow of Blencathra and resumed their interrupted lunch.

The meadows around the picnic area were home to some fell ponies, which Trixie watched as she ate. A couple of the ponies, black and gray, approached, but not too close. They stopped and peered warily at Trixie, with their ears perked up.

“What do they want?” Trixie stage-whispered to Moondancer.

She replied softly, “I think they’re curious about you. Or maybe they smell the carrot cake.”

“Do fell ponies eat cake?” Trixie wondered.

“We can find out.” She cut a modest piece of cake and then nibbled on it, conspicuously, where the ponies could see. Then she held out the saucer to them. The black one was the bolder of the pair and stepped forward to sniff the saucer, then his tongue swept out and scooped the cake into his mouth. Moondancer giggled. “I think that’s a yes.”

The gray pony crowded up to the table, not wanting to be left out. Trixie grinned and reached for the cake, then lit her horn to cut a piece, but the flare of magic startled the fell ponies. They both jumped back, away from the table. Trixie was taken aback for a moment, while the fell ponies snorted and shook their heads.

“No magic!” Moondancer suggested.

Trixie nodded. “No magic.” She shut off her spell and picked up a plastic knife in her mouth to secure a piece of cake. Holding her hoof with the frog facing upright — a position utterly impossible for any native equine of earth — she balanced the cake upon it and held it forth to the fell ponies.

The ponies came forward again, and the black one tried to nose his way in front, but Trixie blocked him with her free hoof. “You’ve had yours. Give your friend a taste!” The gray pony quickly lapped up the cake from Trixie’s hoof, making her giggle.

In a moment both of the ponies were nosing at Trixie, looking for more. It was too much for comfort, and she reflexively used her magic again to startle and nudge them until they backed off. “You’ve had your treats,” she chided.

Moondancer giggled and glanced at Trixie, casually comparing her putatively equine form to that of the fell ponies. She observed, “They’re so different from you; it’s strange that we use the same word for both species. It’s like… It’s like if we used the same word for humans and orangutans.”

For her own part, Trixie kept her eyes and ears locked onto the animals. After pondering for a few moments, she replied, “They aren’t what I thought. I imagined something like… cave ponies. Shaggy, dirty, ugly brutes.” She lowered her head to rest her muzzle upon her forelegs, and she watched a pair of fillies (or colts — she couldn’t tell) race about the meadow. She giggled softly. “Well, they are shaggy. But they’re beautiful in their way. They seem so free! They don’t have any of our worries. Their world isn’t ending. They don’t need a job, or have to eat Soylent. They don’t have reporters hassling them.”

Trixie watched the fell ponies cavorting in the meadow, and Moondancer watched Trixie. Then she reached over and nudged the little unicorn and suggested, “Why don’t you go join them and run free for a little while?”

Trixie turned to look at her. “What? I’m a civilized pony. The Great and Powerful Trixie does not prance in the field like a brainless foal.”

Moondancer smiled and shrugged. “Suit yourself!” Then she slipped her sandals off and ran, giggling, across the velvet green.

Trixie stared after her, gobsmacked for a moment. Then she called out, “Wait for me!”, and she chased after her friend.

The sun was sinking toward the valley when they eventually pulled into the Low Nest Farm, tired but contented. “Oh!” Moondancer exclaimed when she spotted the car parked in front, sporting a Battenberg pattern of yellow and blue. “The police. I wonder why they’re here?” As she parked her car, she could see that Ivan and Mildred were standing in front of the farmhouse, along with a police officer and a pegasus pony, namely Mojo. All of them turned to watch in silence as Moondancer and Trixie got out of the car and came up to the house. None of them were smiling.

Mojo, still stained with mud and moss from the stream, pointed a hoof at Trixie and accused, “There she is! That’s the unicorn who attacked me.”

The officer set his stony eyes on her, clicked the button on a recorder with his thumb, and his mustache twitched as he said, “The Great and Powerful Trixie, I gather.” He glanced at her companion. “And you must be, ah… Moondancer, is it?”

“Yes. Officially, even,” she asserted, just in case he was unsure about that.

The officer looked downward again at the little unicorn and said, “Miss Trixie, you’ve been accused of assaulting Mr. Jones. That’s a serious allegation.”

“Trixie did no such thing!” she retorted while looking daggers at Mojo.

“That’s right,” Moondancer chimed in. “This pegasus was following and harassing us, and Trixie only fended him off.”

The officer said, “Harassing you, eh? But you never placed any call, did you? Whereas Mr. Jones here did.”

Moondancer explained, “We didn’t take a phone with us today. And after Trixie made him leave us alone, there was no harm done.”

“No harm done?” Mojo pointed at Trixie again. “Bloody hell was there no harm done! She turned me into a newt.”

At that statement, all eyes turned to Mojo. The officer pursed his lips thoughtfully. It was Ivan, silent until now, who leaned over for a closer look and said, “A newt?”

Mojo’s eyes were wide, but his pupils shrank to pinpricks, and he took an involuntary step back, his wings partially opening of their own accord, and he stammered, “I… I mean… I, uh, I got better.”

Trixie gave a low whistle while twirling her hoof in a little circle around her ear. “Wow.”

The police officer sighed and switched off his recorder. “All right, that’s enough. I’m sorry to have bothered you folks. But you know, we have to investigate calls.”

“What!?” Mojo turned on him. “You’re not going to arrest her?”

“And write her up for turning you into a newt? That would be more than my job’s worth. Now come along, you!” He grabbed Mojo’s ear and towed him back to the patrol car.

What can you not doubt?

"Well, sometimes the magic works. . . Sometimes, it doesn't." — Chief Dan George

After their grand day out, Trixie and Moondancer buckled down to do their homework. Their new office was hastily outfitted, and they (mainly Moondancer) were given basic training to operate the large-format map printer. Trixie was fascinated when the print head zipped back-and-forth across the page and maps began rolling out.

Although charting a direct route between their two henges was top priority, Ivan insisted that they carefully consider the broader context, potentially for hundreds of miles around. He was sure the ley lines had once formed a sophisticated network. That meant there could be intersections or crossings with other lines that were no longer active, but that they might want to reconstruct in the future. The distance between Castlerigg and Swinside being relatively short, they might not even run into this problem, but it had to be checked.

Furthermore, Lord Peter’s scholars were still looking for the broader patterns that might indicate how the network components functioned. What was the significance of a trilithon or a dolmen, as compared with a solitary menhir or a long barrow? Nobody was sure. The widespread assumption was that henges were the wellsprings of magical energy, and they ley lines carried it outward across the land, and that connecting henges together allowed them to reinforce one another and increase their power.

However, at least one of the scholars was very convinced they had it all backward, that long barrows were the origin. Neolithic people had worshipped their ancestors, he insisted, with magic power coming from the tombs of the ancestors, then delivered by ley lines to the henges where worshippers would receive and use it in their ceremonies.

As they all debated this one day over supper, Ivan had mused, “What if it’s both? What if earth magic comes up from the barrows, and celestial magic comes down to the henges? Just like two terminals of a battery. Then you build a ley line between them, and it’s like closing an electrical circuit. That’s how you get the power flowing, maybe?”

Moondancer objected, saying, “My coven raised a Cone of Power from Castlerigg, and Trixie confirmed it! That proves henges are the origin of the magic, not only an end point.”

Trixie fidgeted, wondering if her little white fib had sent the whole project careering down the wrong track. That was assuming this entire project had any basis at all, which she still hadn’t seen any real evidence of. She bit her tongue and concealed her doubts. “Worst comes to worst, I’ve made a lot of bits from this venture, and all the humans end up having to become ponies anyhow,” she silently considered. Yet, somehow the thought didn’t bring much comfort.

Out loud she said, “But it wasn’t a lot of magic. Not compared with what we have back in Equestria. Maybe we should look into the idea.”

Ivan scratched his chin. “Maybe… Maybe connecting a long barrow and a henge is something we should try as a side project. Most of the surviving barrows are down south, around Stonehenge and Avebury. There’s even some new ones built, that people can put their urns in. It turned into a bit of a fad, really.”

“Do you have the resources to do that?” Moondancer wondered.

Ivan smiled and answered, “Luv, we’ve got more resources now than we know what to do with. Volunteers, donations, equipment, you name it.” Then his smile faded somewhat. “But Lord Peter might have me running all over the country trying to stay on top of it all. I won’t be here at Castlerigg most of the time. The construction team here have already got the plans. I’ll just check in once in a while to make sure they’re on track.”

Trixie looked to Smithers, who’d been silent and glum for a while. “Smithers, will you be staying?”

He shook his head. “I’ve been recalled. The National Trust has thrown in the towel on Castlerigg, and I’m wanted elsewhere. I’m leaving in the morning.”

Trixie awwed. “I’ll miss you.”

Smithers shrugged and forced a wan smile. “It’s been an assignment to remember. And for whatever it’s worth, I wish you all the best of luck. I still can’t believe anything will come of all this, but I won’t complain if I’m proven wrong.”

In the next few days, the Low Nest Farm became a bustling place. Tourists and pilgrims once again came to Keswick. They came to see the restoration work being done to the Castlerigg henge. They were full of questions, and the question most of them asked was: “How can I help?”

Ivan recruited an earnest older couple named Blake to organize the volunteers who came to Castlerigg, as well as fend off media inquiries, so that Trixie and Moondancer wouldn’t be constantly interrupted. They assigned some of the volunteers to go inspect and photograph various points of interest between Castlerigg and Swinside. Any object of local lore along the path, any symbol on a map, or any visible disturbance of the land in the satellite images might possibly be the trace of a neolithic structure.

Moondancer had a growing stack of reference material: books of ancient lore, books of ritual magic, and treatises on neolithic monuments and ley lines. She tried to find correlations between the patterns on the maps and astrology, numerology, symbology.

Trixie also placed orders through Lord Peter for books of magic from Equestria, and was surprised with how quickly they arrived, sometimes within only a few days. She wondered briefly what lengths he’d gone through to procure them.

For a unicorn pony, basic telekinesis and lights were innate abilities, expressed as naturally as flight and weather manipulation were to a pegasus, or physical strength to an earth pony. A unicorn’s special talent, once discovered, enabled new abilities related to that talent. All these could be employed without formal study, and many unicorns never ventured beyond them.

Spell books and study of magical theory fell into a different category. This was advanced magic, true spell-casting, and it often used poetry and rhyme, and occasionally symbols or songs, to evoke the imagination, emotions and inner vision of the caster.

Trixie had tried to study advanced magic in school, and she had learned the basics, but found it a slog. Her stage act leaned heavily on her innate, intuitive abilities. Now she had to dig into the textbooks again, and it was no fun. Moreover, it was hard to find anything that could be relevant, even tangentially, to the problem at hoof.

After a few days of spinning their wheels, Moondancer decided to visit the High Priestess of her order, to hold a confab with her and some other high-ranking Wiccans, to try and brainstorm some ideas.

Thus, Trixie was left alone at the farm. Oh, Mildred was still there, and the Blakes were there, and the volunteers and tourists milling about, but the team that Trixie had known since arriving at the farm had dispersed almost as quickly as it had come together. Even though Ivan and Moondancer were only a phone call away, Trixie was left feeling deflated and a little blue (in more than her usual, literal sense).

Left alone with the maps and books and all the dry archaeological studies, Trixie wallowed in failure. She sagged with her front hooves on the tabletop and her head resting upon them. The maps seemed to be mocking her with their symbols and lines, to all appearances drawn at random. The few ideas she’d had for attempting to correlate them with any form of unicorn magic had come to nothing.

There was nothing left for her to do here, so why was she staying? What was keeping her from resigning her position, taking the gold she’d earned, and returning to Equestria? She could go back to Hoofington; she could return home — in defeat. Her mouth puckered at the sour thought. She’d never been a quitter. And what would her human friends say?

She sighed and doodled idly on an otherwise blank sheet of paper. A pencil floated in her magenta aura as she magically scribbled. She’d always been a doodler in school, when she should have been paying attention to her classes.

Ivan. Moondancer. Smithers. Lord Peter. Katrina. They were counting on a miracle that Trixie — or anyone else — might not be able to deliver, that might not be possible at all. More and more Trixie had begun to suspect this entire endeavor was nothing more than wishful thinking. Where was the evidence that this entire scheme could work? The critics she’d seen on the telly nagged at her. What if they were right? What if this misplaced dream of turning back the Barrier only led humans to avoid conversion?

In her mind’s eye she envisioned hordes of humans overrunning the Conversion Bureaus as the Barrier approached — too late, far too late to convert them all in their millions, before it rolled over them and snuffed out their lives.

She looked at the paper. She’d drawn a typical Trixie doodle. When the other fillies in school had doodled, they usually drew ponies… or animals… or flowers… or hearts and rainbows… Trixie never did that. She only drew abstract doodles, filling empty space with ever-growing webs of interconnected dots, triangles, circles and boxes. It was a meaningless activity that required no thought, no imagination, and, most of all, no artistic talent. Zen doodles.

She stared at the doodle for a few moments, then her eyes drifted over toward the map on the table, the oh-so-neatly computer-printed map. Her gaze settled on a spot marked “dolmen”. She floated her pencil over to it and carefully drew a triangle around the spot. She scanned the map until she found a spot marked “henge”, and she drew a circle with a thick dot in the center. Then she drew a straight line across the land, connecting the two shapes.

She stared for a few moments at the map she’d defaced. She smiled. It was like drawing a mustache on a painting. A worthless and frustrating painting. It deserved to be mocked.

She added a thick, round dot on a hilltop, then began to make a line connecting it with the triangle — but it didn’t seem right. It was too far. She bit her lip and carefully penciled in a square box between them. Yes, that was better.

After making a mess of the map, Trixie gave up and went back to her room to watch TV. Even though it was often so confusing that she could only tolerate small doses, it was also fascinating. Before Convergence, black-and-white silent movies had been state-of-the-art, a recent invention in Equestria. Humans had left that technology behind over a hundred years ago. Given the limitations of electronics on Equis and in the Exponential Lands, it was questionable whether ponies there could ever advance in any similar way.

And so, all of these technological wonders would be gone in a few years, when all the world was converted to Exponential Lands. They would become the stuff of legends and myths. Unless…

Trixie shook her head and switched to the news channel. As she’d come to expect, it was all bad. There were more freakish weather events. More riots. More terrorism. More pundits trying to make sense of it all.

Trixie thought back to Nightmare Moon, Discord, the changeling invasion. Ponies had known terror when the sun didn’t rise, when chaos was unleashed upon the land, and when the changelings swarmed into Canterlot. And yet… They’d never known what was really going on. The changelings had been defeated in a day. Nightmare Moon’s endless night and Discord’s reign of chaos had each lasted less than a week. Equestria had never known anything like this slow-motion train wreck on TV in every home for week after week, month after month, while everyone watched in helpless horror as every detail unfolded.

An image of giant trilithons flashed on the screen, and Trixie perked up her ears to listen.

“Tens of thousands of pilgrims and protestors have flocked to Salisbury Plain, gathering here at Stonehenge to demand that this British cultural icon be rebuilt and restored to its ancient glory.” Drone video filled the screen, showing colorful throngs milling about, some carrying placard signs. The view then changed to reveal vehicles and tents sprawling outside the monuments. Narration continued, “Normally access to Stonehenge is restricted, except upon summer solstice. However, the authorities appear to have given up any attempt to control these crowds. Similar scenes have unfolded on smaller scales at neolithic monuments across the British Isles. In some places activists, unwilling to wait for action from the authorities, have already begun clearing brush and debris from around neglected monuments as Neolithic Fever sweeps the country.”

The view returned to a reporter on the ground alongside the familiar face of Ivan. The reporter spoke, “The idea put forth by Wiccan groups and the Kemetic Church, that restoring these monuments can reawaken Earth’s natural magic and hold back the Barrier, has fired the imaginations of many. Here today is Ivan McGregor, a self-described ‘geomancer’ who is supervising restoration work on the stone circle at Castlerigg. Ivan, what are your views on Stonehenge?”

Ivan responded, “For decades now our mandate for all these monuments has been to keep hands off, except for very carefully considered archeological digs. What people need to realize about Stonehenge, though, is that it’s already been tampered with, and it’s already been reconstructed once.” He waved his hand in the general direction of the giant stones. “What you see here was done in the 1950s. You can dig around the bases of those stones and find the modern concrete poured when they stood them up. So in a way it’s all a sham. It was done for a tourist attraction.”

The reporter prodded, “So what you want to do is a more authentic reconstruction?”

“Aye! So much archaeological work has been done since that time, and we’ve learned so much more about this site. We can undo all the damage from the 1950s and rebuild a much more accurate reproduction of Stonehenge in its heyday. Stonehenge was in active use for over a thousand years, and we now know it went through several phases of construction. Not to mention, the whole area around here is a wonderland of henges and barrows and other neolithic structures.”

The reporter pressed him, transparently reading a prompt from his smart glasses as he asked, “We’ve heard more expressions of skepticism from Equestria, from the unicorn experts on magic as it’s practiced there, doubting whether these efforts can have any effect on the Barrier, or whether humans are capable of working any magic at all. Katrina promised that evidence was forthcoming, but we still haven’t seen it.”

Ivan chuckled. “Skepticism doesn’t bother me. It’s something we’ve been used to since long before the Convergence ever happened. The Wiccans, the pagans, the new-agers, the astrologers and psychics and all the rest have always known there’s something more to this world than facts, figures and logic. There’s another world of lore, legends and magic that modern man has turned away from. In spite of all that skepticism, a few have kept the faith.”

The view returned to the studio, where the news anchor added, “Meanwhile, we’ve been informed that Princess Celestia has taken personal interest in this phenomenon and has dispatched a Special Envoy to investigate the claims.”

The news then went to a report on earthquake relief efforts in Guatemala, and Trixie switched it off. Ivan seemed perfectly happy to disparage facts, figures and logic when he didn’t have any to offer. Trixie just wasn’t so sure. She earned a living from making her audiences see more magic and wonders than she really had. It worked as long as the audience wanted to believe. With their fate bearing down on them, humans wanted desperately to believe.

As she mulled over these thoughts, her phone chimed. She slipped it out of her little purse and magically poked at it with the stylus. “Ahoy, ahoy!” she spoke into it.

A familiar and cheery voice answered, “Ahoy indeed! I say, that’s a peculiar greeting, Miss Trixie. Is that how ponies answer their phones in Equestria?”

She began to suspect she’d been misled by a certain prankster. “uhhh… Yes! Yes, it is. What can Trixie do for you, Lord Peter?”

Lord Peter explained, “I just wanted to inform you that a delegation of unicorns from Equestria are on the way to investigate our project, and they’ve expressed a particular interest in your experience at Castlerigg. I’m sure they will want to meet with you, as well as examine the site. You should expect them before noon Thursday.”

Day after tomorrow? Trixie frowned and asked, “How many are coming?”

“It’s the Special Envoy, Her Excellency Twilight Sparkle, along with a pair of assistants, as I understand.”

Trixie scowled. “Did you say Twilight Sparkle?” she inquired with deadpan tone.

“You know her? Ha, of course you do! She the Bearer of the Element of Magic, and you the Most Magical Unicorn in All Equestria: I’m sure you two moved in the same circles back home, eh wot?”

“Yes of course.” She forced out a strained laugh. “Haha! We’re colleagues! Rest assured, I’ll give Her Excellency Twilight Sparkle all the cooperation she’s due.”

Her Excellency

Trixie paced back and forth near the Low Nest Farm’s landing pad — merely a mowed area with an X marked in chalk plus a transponder — waiting for Twilight Sparkle’s aircar to arrive. Reporters lurked nearby with their cameras and microphones ready, but they refrained from hassling Trixie. It was almost unnerving how they kept their distance from her, not to mention how polite they had become. She supposed that word of Mojo’s encounter with her had gotten around.

Trixie had phoned both Ivan and Moondancer and asked if they could return in time to meet Twilight. They had both begged off. Moondancer had already committed to leading another Wiccan ceremony before making her way back to the farm, and Ivan was still busy with the activists and officials tussling over Stonehenge and Avebury. Neither of them would be here now to lend Trixie moral support.

Trixie’s sensitive ears picked up the sound of the aircar moments before the reporters noticed it. As they pointed their cameras skyward, Trixie sat upright and straightened her hat and cape.

The sound increased as the aircar transitioned from winged flight to VTOL hover. Even though it was powered by nearly-silent electric motors, the many small lift-fans produced a loud whooshing sound and raised a small windstorm as the craft settled on the pad. Trixie held her hat with an arm to keep it from blowing away, but the windstorm quickly died after the vehicle’s landing skids touched ground.

The plexiglas canopy raised, and, to Trixie’s surprise, four ponies hopped out. The petite, lavender unicorn, Twilight Sparkle, was easily recognized — not only had Trixie met her before, if only briefly, but she had appeared often enough in the news. The other two unicorns and one earth pony were unfamiliar.

As they approached, she greeted them in her best haughty tone: “The Great and Powerful Trixie welcomes you to the Low Nest Farm.” She swept her hat from her head and held it to her chest as she bowed low. “Trixie is honored to meet Her Excellency Twilight Sparkle once again.”

Twilight flinched slightly, holding one hoof off the ground, and chided, “It’s good to see you’re doing well, Trixie, but you really don’t have to use that title with me. It’s just some kind of silly tradition from the diplomatic corps.”

Trixie responded, “Your Excellency is far too modest! And what of your companions, if Trixie might inquire?”

“Oh, yes!” She pointed with a hoof to indicate the steel blue unicorn stallion. “Spell Nexus is headmaster of Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns, and he’s also Equestria’s foremost expert on ritual magic.” The stallion bowed as he was introduced. Trixie’s gaze flicked to the sigil on his hip, a circumscribed pentagram.

Twilight then pointed to the custard yellow-coated, bespectacled, unicorn mare. “Crystal Clear is one of our top enchanters. The Conversion Potion couldn’t have been developed without her work.” The mare bowed, and Trixie caught a glimpse of her mark as well: three brilliant-cut gemstones.

Then Twilight indicated the dark gray earth pony stallion. “And, here to guide and assist us, is a diplomatic attache from the Foreign Office, Prudent Slate.” He likewise bowed.

Trixie observed that he wore a tailored vest and coat, but his unblemished hip was openly visible. She blinked. “A newfoal?” she blurted.

Unperturbed, he stood and answered with an unmistakably native Londoner’s accent, “The Foreign Office encourages early conversion for all our officers, as a show of confidence in the program and to set an example for the masses who must, inevitably, follow. My family went into conversion together, in fact.”

“I see.” Trixie was about to ask another question, but then she balked and glanced askance at the reporters and their many cameras. She suggested, “Let’s get indoors, shall we?” She gestured for the others to follow, and she led them to the building that housed her workspace. Once they’d come inside she said, “Trixie is afraid she doesn’t have much to offer in the way of refreshments, but you are welcome to the bottled water, the soylent bars, or…” she glanced at a machine in the corner and cringed slightly “…the pod coffee.”

“I’m fine, thanks!” Twilight Sparkle answered, perhaps a little too quickly, and Trixie wondered whether it was the pod coffee or the soylent she was more averse to. Soylent had a bad reputation among ponies, although the reformulated versions no longer prompted severe gastro-intestinal distress.

What she said was, “Trixie regrets that her companions could not be here. They are occupied elsewhere.”

“That’s OK, Trixie. I’m sure we’ll catch up with them sometime during this trip, but most of all I wanted to talk with you.”

“Really?”

“Before we get to business, I wanted to say something about what happened last time we met, in Ponyville.”

Trixie narrowed her eyes defensively. “Oh, indeed? That was not Trixie’s fault!”

Twilight blinked. “What? No, of course it wasn’t. I mean, it wasn’t you that brought the ursa to town. I just wanted to tell you I’m sorry.”

It took a couple of seconds for that to compute for Trixie. “You… You’re sorry?”

“Yes!” Twilight insisted with the intensity of something she’d been wanting to say for a long time, “The way you stood up to the ursa was very brave, and all you got for it was your home destroyed. And then… I could see how embarrassed you were when I subdued it, but I never wanted to humiliate you. I wish you’d stayed so my friends and I could have helped replace your caravan.”

Trixie’s jaw hung open, but words didn’t come. This wasn’t the conversation she’d expected to have. Twilight’s eyes were pleading as she waited for a response. Trixie closed her mouth, then cast her eyes downward for a few seconds, then said softly, “Trixie also has some regrets about that day. But that is water under the bridge. Nopony was hurt, and the caravan is long since replaced. Let us both be troubled by it no more.”

“Oh thank heavens!” Twilight lurched forward to fling her arms around Trixie’s neck. Trixie reflexively tried to pull away, but Twilight seemed oblivious. “I wondered for a long time if you were going to be OK. I’m glad my fears were unfounded.” Trixie managed to pry Twilight loose, prompting an embarrassed giggle from the smaller mare. “oops, sorry…”

“It’s all right. Trixie has much experience fending off enthusiastic fans,” she said, prompting another giggle from Twilight. Using her magic, Trixie removed her cape and straightened it, and placed it on a hook, followed by her hat.

Twilight glanced at her traveling companions, cleared her throat, and ventured, “Perhaps we should get on with the reasons for our visit.”

“Yes! Trixie presumes that Your Excellency wants to inquire about our work here.”

A flicker of annoyance crossed Twilight’s face at the use of her title, but she pressed onward. “Yes, but even more I want to hear about what happened at the ceremony I heard about.” Her horn glowed, then a notebook puffed into existence, and she flipped through it. “The priestess claimed on TV that she raised something called a cone of power, and that you were able to sense it. Did I understand that right?”

Trixie nodded slowly. “That is essentially correct.”

Twilight waited a few seconds, then realized Trixie wasn’t going to elaborate without some prompting. “Well, uh… What exactly did you sense?”

“Magic.”

Twilight Sparkle’s expression wilted. She took a deep breath, then pushed onward. “What I mean is, was it it a primary or a secondary propagation? Was it vertically or horizontally polarized? Did you detect any body waves, or any love waves?”

Trixie glanced at the other two unicorns who had their notebooks and pencils out, ready to record her every utterance. She groused, “Trixie is not a thaumograph! I detected magic of an unfamiliar type. What do you want from me, Your Excellency?”

“But…” Twilight pondered a moment, then said, “But it had to be one of the five classical categories of magic, right?” She stamped a forehoof on the floor, lightly, as she recited: “Sorcery, alchemy, summoning, divination, or innate expression. If it was a new category, that would break the entire standard model of thaumaturgy!”

Spell Nexus interrupted, “However, the ceremony could have incorporated multiple categories, creating a hybrid propagation that would seem unfamiliar to most unicorns.” He glanced meaningfully at Trixie. “Especially to one not trained in analytic spellcasting. But perhaps you could describe the ceremony to us.”

Trixie inwardly sighed with relief. That was something she could do. As she told them of the events she’d witnessed, all three ponies took notes. Spell Nexus interrogated her for details of the shrines the Wiccans had built and the sequence of activities, while Crystal Clear was more curious about the athame blade and other properties the priest and priestess had used. Trixie answered their questions as best she could.

“We need to see for ourselves,” Twilight Sparkle declared. “We need to attend a ceremony and bring in some instruments to measure exactly what energies manifest.”

“No!” Trixie blurted. They all looked to her, and she explained, “The ceremony is a private thing for Wiccans. I had to build trust with Moondancer for days — no, weeks! — before she’d agree to have me.”

Twilight interrupted, “Wait… Her name really is Moondancer? That sounds like a unicorn’s name. I went to school with a Moondancer back in Canterlot.”

Trixie sighed. “Yes, her name really is Moondancer. Yes, it’s unusual among humans. Trixie also gets many comments about her supposedly human-sounding name. But the point is, you can’t simply barge into their ceremonies. And your instruments are right out. The Wiccans don’t even allow their own phones and electronics into the circle.”

Twilight Sparkle’s ears drooped. “That’s very disappointing. But maybe… Maybe we can meet her during this trip and raise the subject. I don’t want to offend her religion, but these are extraordinary circumstances. Maybe I could convince her.”

Trixie shook her head. “She’s incommunicado, at a private retreat with the highest ranking Wiccans of her order. I don’t even know where it is, and she won’t be back for several days.”

Twilight stamped a hoof, looked at the floor and chewed her lip for a moment. “All right. I can’t say I’m happy about that, but we’ll do the best we can. Can we at least visit the stone circle today and try to scry it?”

Trixie narrowed her eyes and admitted, if a bit grudgingly, “Trixie sees no harm in that. Would you like to review what we’ve been working on here first, Your Excellency?”

Twilight nodded assent.

Trixie directed their attention to the maps. Just as she had been not too long ago, they were unfamiliar with the concepts of ley lines and neolithic structures such as henges, long barrows, dolmens, menhirs and trilithons. Trixie found herself in the odd position of lecturing some of Equestria’s brightest on a subject of which she legitimately knew much more than them. Some questions, however, were not so easily answered. What was the purpose of these different structures? How did they interact with one another? Often the only answer she could give was: Nobody knows. That’s what we’re trying to figure out.

Trixie showed them the computer system and how to switch between maps and satellite views. While the two scholars played with that — succumbing to the allure of human technology for a few minutes — Trixie noticed that Twilight Sparkle was examining the bookshelf, picking through the books on magic that Trixie had ordered from Equestria. Trixie cleared her throat.

Twilight looked up, then pushed a book back into place on the shelf. “I expected you to have more, um, advanced research material. These are basic textbooks.”

“Moondancer and I have been reading one another’s books. Hers are there.” She pointed.

Twilight started reading the titles. “The Horn of Evenwood? The Witching Way of the Hollow Hill?” She pulled a book off the shelf and read, “Wicca Moon Magic: A Wiccan’s Guide and Grimoire for Working Magic with Lunar Energies.”

Trixie helpfully added, “There’s a whole series of those. There’s one for herbal magic, one for crystal magic, one for candle magic.”

Twilight put it back and continued reading titles. “Letters from the Devil’s Forest. Liber Nox: A Traditional Witch’s Gramarye. The Resurrection of the Meadow.” She pulled the latter and flipped it open, skimmed the introduction, then read out loud: “A Record of Thirteen Occult Formulas & Charms of Art with Purport & A Sealing Conjuration & their many useful Sorcerous Permutations, Writ and Gathered on Walpurgis Night 2010, For those Inquisitive Adepts who walk The despised path of True Sorcery, the long-dimmed radiance of the Ancient Gold of the Wise.” She snapped it shut and exclaimed, “Are these books for real? They sound like something out of Grogar’s or Tirek’s personal library!”

“We bought them off Amazon. But Moondancer takes them very seriously.”

Twilight opened another while muttering, “We were told Earth doesn’t have any magic, humans can’t work magic. Where did they get all these spell books? Wait, are they even really spell books?” She looked up at Trixie. “Have you been able to cast anything from them?”

Trixie shrugged as if the question was of no importance. “I haven’t been initiated with the Word of Power yet. Also, I haven’t figured out how to make the hand motions with my hooves.”

Twilight’s jaw hung open, and her mane had started becoming disheveled with stray cowlicks popping up. “But… Moondancer can cast spells from these books?”

“Sure, I’ve seen her cast spells.”

Twilight dropped the book and put her hooves on Trixie’s shoulders. “What spells? What was she able to do?” she demanded.

“Calm your wits, girl! Wiccan magic isn’t like ours. There were no fireworks, it’s nothing like that. It’s subtle.”

Twilight frowned. “You’re telling me that Moondancer, a human, cast magic spells in your presence. If that’s true, that’s huge! Enormous! I need to know what kind of magical discharges and results you witnessed.”

Trixie scowled back. “If that’s true? What do you mean, if that’s true? Are you casting asparagus on Trixie?”

Twilight opened her mouth to speak, paused for an instant, then said in a softer tone, “Aspersions. And no, I’m not. I’m sorry if it sounded that way. I guess I just need to study this more.” Ears drooping, she returned her attention to one of the spell books.

Not long after that, Twilight Sparkle wanted to proceed to the stone circle. She glanced around at the other ponies and observed, “We should all fit into the aircar OK, since it was made for humans.”

Trixie responded, “That will not be necessary. The stone circle is less than a mile.” She donned her hat and cape and led them outside — and into the waiting crowd of reporters who immediately raised a tumult.

“Give us some space!” Prudent Slate ordered. Several police officers had earlier been stationed to provide security for the diplomatic visit, and now they made their presence felt as they herded the reporters back a short distance. Some reporters continued to shout questions, though.

“Twilight Sparkle! Have you found any proof of Wiccan magic yet?”

“Do you think we can turn back the Barrier?”

“Will Princess Celestia call for a moratorium on Conversions?”

“Did ancient unicorns come to Earth and build Stonehenge?”

“Trixie is afraid this won’t be a peaceful walk,” she commented in Twilight’s ear. “And with their microphones they can pick up everything we say.”

“Don’t worry, I have a spell for that!” Twilight’s horn glowed for a moment with the casting, then a transparent blue bubble surrounded the group and quickly faded. “There! Now we’re in a Circle of Confusion. The circle will follow us, and reporters won’t be able to understand anything they hear from inside it. It’ll sound like gibberish.”

“Not bad,” Trixie admitted. She led them to the roadway, and the media mob followed closely. As they walked, some of the reporters continued to call out questions. Trixie groused, “Don’t they know they aren’t going to get any answers from us now?”

Twilight sighed. “I haven’t found any way to really shut them up.”

Trixie gritted her teeth and said, “Don’t worry, I have a spell for that!” She removed her hat and spun to face the reporters. She lowered her head and pawed at the ground with a hoof, and her horn glowed brightly with an increasing whine of power, and she yelled, “Get back and give us some peace, you louts!”

Then followed a mad scramble as the reporters cleared out.

Trixie’s magic faded, and she replaced her hat upon her head, covering her horn once again. Twilight gawped and wondered, “What did you cast on them? I couldn’t even detect… Was it some kind of repulsiveness spell?”

“A variant of Awful Apparition, perhaps?” suggested Spell Nexus.

Trixie raised her muzzle higher and told them, “The magician never reveals her secrets. Now come along! We should be able to proceed unmolested.”

She led them the short distance to Castle Lane and on toward the stone circle. Twilight Sparkle walked side-by-side with Trixie, while the others trailed behind. Twilight seemed distracted, perhaps still trying to figure out what magic Trixie had cast. As they passed a farmhouse, Trixie broke the silence. “That’s where a Roman marching camp used to be.” She indicated the area, vaguely, with her muzzle.

“Roman?” Twilight wondered.

Trixie smiled and repeated the lore about the Romans and the origins of Castlerigg, just as she’d learned it from Ivan. Twilight listened with genuine interest, the other ponies with somewhat less enthusiasm.

As they neared the stone circle, they came to the place where a paved drive entered the field, where the white stripes were painted on the road. To Trixie’s disappointment, they were obscured by dirt that vehicles had tracked across. She’d been hoping to see Twilight Sparkle’s reaction to the illusion, but the other ponies walked across the threshold without noticing anything amiss.

The stone circle was a mess. Heavy machinery and bare, muddy earthworks were everywhere, smell of dirt and diesel hanging in the air. Trixie knew that the work was nearing completion, but until the turf was green again and the machines gone, it was a construction site. Trixie approached the supervisor and asked him to suspend work for a while. The crew was working on setting a marker stone outside the henge, the interior being finished by this time. They quieted their machines and took a break, looking on curiously while the ponies entered the henge.

Trixie led them between the stones of the entryway, or avenue as Ivan called it, through a gap in the earthworks. Once they had entered the circle itself, Trixie paused a moment to contemplate how this place had changed since the ceremony. The five thousand year old earthworks that had been eroded to invisibility when she first came to this place were now rebuilt. A deep V-shaped ditch was surrounded by a tall embankment, broken only by the avenue. The bank created an artificial horizon around the circle, partially blocking the view of the mountains and giving it a more intimate feeling than the exposed place it had been before.

Likewise, it felt more purposeful. The stones were still ancient and irregular in shape, but now they were upright, evenly spaced, precisely positioned. The circle was perfectly round, centered in the earthworks, and it all seemed less like a mysterious ruin and more like a device to carry out a task.

Trixie’s reverie was broken by her guests. It was Spell Nexus who asked, “Miss Trixie, could you show us where the components of the ceremony were placed?”

“Of course.” She moved around the circle pointing out where the shrines had been placed, where the drums had been, the bonfire, and so forth.

As they followed, all three of her unicorn guests cast spells, projecting their auras briefly onto the stones, onto the ground, into the air. Trixie could only detect the magical discharges and get an impression that the spells were subtle and complex. The three scholars muttered softly to one another as they worked their way around the circle, taking notes and making sketches. Trixie’s sensitive ears overheard babble about transverse thaumic fields, holographic localization, and something that sounded like, “the corresponding pattern of maxima and minima in the mana scattering intensity as a function of P.”

She rolled her ears back and moved further from the eggheads, then sat on the ground and observed them from a safe distance. The earth pony newfoal walked over and sat beside her. After some moments he broke the silence, perhaps compelled by social habit to make small talk. “They seem to know what they’re doing.”

“Yes,” Trixie replied.

He fidgeted a little, then prompted her again. “Do you think they’ll figure it out?”

Trixie glanced at the three unicorn scholars who were engrossed by their activities. Then her eyes flicked upward, past the silhouettes of the ancient stones, to ragged, scudding clouds. Somewhere in the distance a hawk screeched. She glanced toward the horizon, where a half moon hung almost lost in the haze, until a passing cloud obscured it completely. “No, they won’t,” she concluded.

He merely nodded, as though nothing more needed saying.

After a few more moments of silence, Trixie said, “I was going to ask you before. I assume Prudent Slate isn’t your human name.”

“Goodness no! At the Conversion Bureau they like for everyone to pick a pony name, and it seems to make visitors from Equestria more comfortable. I’m still Kenneth Winsley on all the paperwork, though.”

Trixie nodded. “So, Kenneth… How do you find being a pony, if I may ask?”

“I’m adapting well. The whole family is.”

Trixie looked askance at his terse answer, and pressed him. “No, really?”

Kenneth pursed his lips, glanced downward. “It’s hard to get along without hands. And being so short. And not being recognized by so many people who knew me before.” He sighed. “My son was five. Conversion was confusing for him. In some ways he’s adapting better, but sometimes he cries about not being able to do something the way he could before, or about being different from other children.”

“And if our project succeeds, then what? Will you become human again?”

Kenneth blinked and his ears perked up, as if he hadn’t really thought it through until that moment. “Is that possible?” he wondered aloud. “I had the impression that there’s no going back.”

Trixie shrugged lightly. “I don’t see why not. With magic all things are possible, and whatever is done can be undone.”

“I see. That could get… hmm… interesting.”

When Twilight Sparkle and her comrades concluded their examination, she approached Trixie and announced, with exasperated tone, “I can’t figure it out! There’s no residue, no trace to indicate that anything magical happened here.”

Trixie narrowed her eyes. “What are you implying, Your Excellency?” Twilight flinched from the unexpected venom lacing Trixie’s response.

“But the site has been very disturbed, of course,” interjected Spell Nexus, and Crystal Clear nodded agreement.

Twilight sighed. “Yes, of course. I just hoped there would be something remaining that we could detect and analyze directly. Even if the local fields were muddled, there should be something.”

“Well. If we are done here, Trixie suggests that we return to the farmhouse forthwith.” As no objection was raised, she led them out of the circle and signaled to the crew that they could resume work.

As they trudged back toward the farmhouse, the mood was glum, and Twilight Sparkle in particular seemed self-absorbed, mumbling to herself.

Trixie glanced at the unsettled sky again, and thought back to some of the music that Moondancer often listened to. Then, to fill the silence, she began to sing a tune, slow, wistful and lonely:

Shadow of cloud falls, and with it a chill
High o’er the heather, hawk hover the hill
Just begun is my journey, and Trixie’s my name
I am the juggler of fortune and fame

She hummed a bit, then chanted a refrain:

Let me not hear facts figures and logic
Fain would I hear lore legends and magic
Let me not hear facts figures and logic
Fain would I hear lore legends and magic

The song continued:

Feathers of raven, slithers of coal
Armor of silver in the mackerel shoal
Sun’s in the west, tis ruby blood red
Travelers a-weary, so weary, do make their bed

Let me not hear facts figures and logic
Fain would I hear lore legends and magic
Let me not hear facts figures and logic
Fain would I hear lore legends and magic

Her song ended, Trixie continued walking with a contented smile.

“That was lovely, Trixie!” spoke up Crystal Clear.

Kenneth added, “Well done, I liked that.”

Twilight Sparkle only looked puzzled and trotted up beside Trixie. “But what does it mean?” she pestered.

“Must everything have a clear meaning?”

“Well… Yes! I mean, that’s usually why a pony breaks out in song, to express or clarify something they feel or have learned.”

“Even if the song is about mysteries?”

Twilight pressed on. “But you made it sound like facts and logic are opposites of lore and magic. That’s not right. You can’t just turn away from facts.”

“That’s… That’s not what it means. Can’t you just leave it be?” Trixie scowled as she walked on, her mood ruined. Twilight hardly seemed any happier but took the hint and remained silent.

As they neared the end of Castle Lane and could see the reporters loitering ahead, Trixie stopped. “Your Excellency? Do we still have that circle of confusion?”

“Let me check!” Twilight’s horn glowed for a moment, and she nodded. “It’s still with us.”

Trixie glanced at the other ponies, who had also stopped to listen, then to Twilight she said, “Trixie has a confession to make. There’s a reason why you detected no magical residue back at the stone circle.”

“Why?” Twilight wondered.

Trixie took a deep breath. “Trixie erased it.”

Startled gasps. “What!?” Twilight exclaimed.

“Trixie knows why you are here, ganging up on her with your experts. You wanted to return to Equestria in triumph with news that you, Her Excellency Twilight Sparkle, Bearer of the Element of Magic, have discovered an entirely new category of magic here on Earth. Once again you’d be feted as a genius and savior — based on the work that Trixie has done! That’s not going to happen. You won’t steal Trixie’s limelight so easily. A spell to clear away any traces of the ceremony made sure of that.”

“Oh no! Trixie, how could you? I’d never have done that. I came here to confirm your report, not steal it!”

“Trixie was not born yesterday. I’ve been all over Equestria, and I know how these things are done. I know how your kind operate. Tomorrow you’d have been in the papers. Next you’d be published in the journals. And somewhere buried in the footnotes would be a tiny mention of the obscure unicorn who led you to your great discovery.”

Twilight’s voice cracked as she pleaded, “Trixie, you’re not making sense. It’s not like that at all.”

“Spare me! Trixie needs to return to her work of saving the world. Your aircar is waiting, Your Excellency. You’ll just have to continue your investigation elsewhere.” Then she turned and trotted off toward the farmhouse.

Voodeedoo

Trixie peered out the window of the studio to watch Twilight Sparkle’s air car lift off. She was already feeling sick to her stomach and mentally chewing herself out. “Why, why did I have to say that? Why couldn’t I have just let them go and draw their own conclusions?” But it was done, and there was no taking it back.

Outside, the gaggle of news reporters began to bring in their drones and collect their other gear and disperse. Certain she’d get no more work done, Trixie returned to her quarters and flopped on the bed. She wondered, “What is wrong with me? Do I just make awful decisions when I’m under pressure?”

There was no good answer for that, so she groped with her magic for the remote and switched on the television. She avoided the news, switching instead to the cartoon channel for some mindless, silly entertainment, or so she hoped. However, even the cartoon shows and commercials were including more and more ponies — trying to “normalize” conversion, doing their part to mentally prepare the population for the inevitable.

Trixie sighed and shut off the screen. She lay there in languid melancholy, she didn’t know for how long, but eventually even sulking got old. She wandered back to the office and found a set of earbuds, plugged them into her phone and her ears, and dialed up some of the music Moondancer had shared with her. With her magic she reached to the bookshelf and pulled out Letters from the Devil’s Forest, opened the volume and began to read.

Trixie’s sleep was uneasy and fitful, punctuated by disturbing, incoherent dreams. In the morning, though, she was cheered considerably after she received a message that Moondancer would return in the afternoon, and that Ivan would also be visiting Castlerigg again for a couple of days to make sure all the finishing touches on the site were up to his standard.

Later, as lunchtime neared, she received a phone call. As she went through the motions of answering, she was startled for a moment to see it was from Katrina. She had no time to contemplate, though. “Ahoy… uhh, I mean hello!” she spoke to the phone.

Katrina’s voice responded, “Trixie, I hope you are well and I am not interrupting anything important. Your meeting with Twilight Sparkle yesterday made the news, and I was wondering if I could hear a report from you on the subject?”

Trixie’s ears drooped, and she gave silent thanks that this call was voice-only. She took a breath to collect herself and then replied, “Trixie allowed Her Excellency Twilight Sparkle and her associates a brief look into our office here, where our research material and maps are kept. Then she guided them to the stone circle itself, where they performed some basic scrying.”

There was a tone of skepticism in Katrina’s next words, “Is that all that happened? Rumors have come back to me that you and Twilight Sparkle experienced some… friction.”

Trixie bit her lip, then said, “Shouldn’t I submit my report to Lord Peter? I mean, he is actually my employer.”

“I’m sure he would be pleased to receive anything you wish to send him,” Katrina replied. “However, this is a matter of the highest interest, and I felt compelled to ask you directly rather than hear about it second-hand.”

Trixie gulped. “Well, uh… I’ll admit that I didn’t see entirely eye-to-eye with Twilight on everything. But I don’t really want to repeat our conversation. It’s better left behind, unless… What has she said about it?”

“She has also declined to elaborate upon her disagreements with you. However, the news has been showing video of your interactions, and the unhappiness with which you parted was readily apparent.”

“Well, there you have it.”

Katrina said, “It is disappointing. However, if both of you believe the conversation should be kept confidential, then I suppose I must accede”O to that.”

Trixie quietly sighed relief. “Thank you! I’m sorry I couldn’t satisfy your, uh… curiosity.” She wondered if Earth also had a saying about curiosity and cats?

“Since I have you on the line, might I inquire about your studies of the ley lines?”

“I haven’t made any breakthroughs, I’m afraid. Moondancer will be back soon, though, and I’m sure we’ll both do better when we can bounce ideas off one another. I’ve been reading some of her spell books here.”

“Wiccan spell books? And what is your opinion of them, if I might ask?”

“Madness!” was what she thought to herself, but what she said out loud was, “They contain a lot of lore that’s hard for me to interpret, but I find them interesting anyhow.”

“Wiccan magic is only one tradition among many, and very different from that of our Kemetic faith. If you fail to find what you seek among Moondancer’s books, I am sure Lord Peter can provide others with fresh viewpoints and ideas.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Trixie agreed.

“On that note, I shall let you return to your work. Ankh udjat seneb, Trixie!”

“What does that mean?”

“It means: live long, be safe and well.”

“Ah. Likewise to you, Katrina!” Then the connection was closed.

Out of morbid curiosity Trixie turned to the TV news and the various talking heads — human and pony alike — speculating about her dispute with Twilight Sparkle. To her relief, none who were actually party to the conversation seemed to have let it slip.

Still feeling in a funk over the whole incident, Trixie returned to the office, but she merely ended up making more zen doodles on the maps.

Late in the afternoon Ivan and Moondancer arrived, separately. Having always been a loner in her travels around Equestria, Trixie was surprised at how relieved she felt upon seeing them again, and how they lifted her mood. They went to Keswick for supper together and each shared their experiences of the last several days. Trixie gave a carefully edited version of her encounter with Twilight, Moondancer spoke animatedly about the confab with her Wiccan peers, and Ivan summarized the discussions that were becoming heated with regard to possible action on Stonehenge and Avebury. He explained, “It’s amazing how quickly attitudes have shifted. Our project seems to have quite captured the public imagination.” He also told them, with a wink and a grin, that he had a surprise for them, but he wanted to wait until morning when everyone was rested before springing it.

Trixie slept better that night. The next day, after breakfast, they gathered in the office. Ivan cleared off a space on the table, opened up his portable computer, and called up a map of the area between Castlerigg and Swinside. Then he took a paper map out of his briefcase and unfolded it on the table next to the computer. “A few days ago I received this, and I found the markings intriguing. So, I dispatched some volunteers to survey the spots that had been marked on it, here and here and here.” He pointed.

Trixie’s eyes went wide as she recognized the map she’d doodled on. “Where did you get that map?” she blurted.

Ivan glanced to her. “It’s yours isn’t it? Did you not intend for your assistants to pass it on to me?”

“I… I didn’t know they were going to. It was just a little experiment.” She thought it had gone into the trash bin, in fact.

“Well, it’s a good thing they did!” He pointed again. “Here, where you marked this triangle, we found what appears to be remnants of a dolmen that nobody had ever recognized before. And over here we found the foundation of an old stone building. Our volunteers asked around, and the local lore indicates it was an old church. You remember, the early Christians sometimes tore down neolithic structures and built their churches over the spot.”

Trixie blinked. “That’s, uh… interesting…”

Moondancer countered, “That’s more than interesting, that’s amazing.”

Ivan looked to the little blue unicorn and smiled broadly as he told her, “Congratulations, Trixie! You’ve looked at an incomplete ley line on a map and calculated where the missing pieces belong. This could be the breakthrough we’ve been waiting for.”

Trixie’s mouth hung open, as she found herself at a loss for words, but Moondancer had no such difficulty and hugged the little pony’s neck. “That’s fantastic, Trixie!” she gushed.

Ivan grinned as he reached over for some other maps nearby and picked them up. “I see you’ve been working on more of these,” he observed. “So, what’s the trick? How did you come up with these locations? And what do all these other lines and markings mean?”

Trixie’s pupils shrank to pinpricks, and she stammered, “I can’t… I can’t explain that to you.”

Smiles faded, and the two humans glanced at one another. “Why not?” Moondancer asked, gently.

“It’s… voodeedoo!”

There was silence for just a moment. Then Moondancer asked, “You mean voodoo?”

Trixie shrugged. “Uh, maybe? During my travels I once spent some time with a zebra witch doctor. She taught me some of their secret magic. I’d forgotten about it for a long time, but then I realized it might be possible to apply those ideas to our problem.”

“She taught you voodoo?”

“Voodeedoo,” Trixie corrected.

“And you can’t explain it to us?”

“I can’t! She cast a geas on me, so I’m never able to reveal the secrets to anyone.”

Ivan mused, “Geas? Isn’t that something from Irish folklore? That’s not voodoo.”

“Voodeedoo.”

Moondancer placed a comforting hand on Trixie’s mane and wondered, “Can’t we find some way to break the geas?”

Trixie shook her head. “Nnnno… No, I don’t think so, it’s a very powerful spell. Very dangerous to try and break. And besides… I’m still not sure I really have this figured out anyhow. I need more time to work on it.”

Ivan looked over the maps in his hand, then waved them and said, “Mind if I take these? Even if you can’t tell us exactly how you made them, maybe we can analyze them and work it out. I can send out teams to dig around more the spots you’ve marked, too.”

“Sure, go ahead,” Trixie agreed.

Confessions

In the weeks that followed, Trixie continued to draw her “voodeedoo” maps, and Ivan sent out teams of investigators — most of them amateur volunteers — to investigate every spot she marked. Many of them turned up evidence that they thought might possibly indicate that a neolithic structure had once been present. Shortly after, new menhirs and dolmens were being raised across the land.

The Wiccans had been flooded with new converts and followers, while their books topped the best-seller lists. Ivan, however, had emerged as the de facto leader of what had come to be known as the New Stone Raisers.

Some even tried to move stones using authentic neolithic methods, or dig earthworks using antler and bone tools as the ancients had done, but Ivan discouraged them as much as he could. As he explained in a news interview, “I’ve studied those methods and practiced them, and I love them, but now is not the time for it. Those monuments were originally built over a span of centuries. We don’t have centuries. The clock is ticking now, so let’s bring in the bulldozers and cranes and JCBs and get this done.”

Trixie was also interviewed on television, several times, but she stayed on-message like the show pony she was, always speaking positively about the project but never offering any new specifics.

The questions became much harder, and Trixie’s answers more defensive, after Twilight Sparkle issued her report. Despite touring and scrying several neolithic sites, speaking with high-ranking Wiccans and exhaustively reviewing their literature, she and her colleagues had found no conclusive evidence that any actual magic was produced on Earth or practiced by any humans.

Until then the project had its proponents and its skeptics, but there had been a widespread feeling of open-mindedness, that this might at least be something worth looking into. After Equestria’s foremost experts on magic went on record that they didn’t see any possible way it could work, then opinions hardened, and everything changed. Shortly following Twilight’s report, Equestria issued a formal policy statement: The efforts of the New Stone Raisers were misguided and harmful. They would only distract attention and draw resources away from the pressing effort to Convert mankind, and might possibly mislead many humans into delaying their Conversions until it was too late.

After it had been, effectively, declared a crackpot effort, investigations of the New Stone Raisers project by the United Nations and other governments quickly dried up. Only in Britain, where the populace were already engaged in supporting it, did the government issue mild criticism while effectively allowing the New Stone Raisers to proceed unhindered.

The first Wiccan gathering at the refreshed, fully restored stone circle at Castlerigg was a gala affair with a much larger crowd than had been there before. Believers and non-believers alike filled the circle, stood atop the henge earthworks and milled around outside, since it was simply impossible for everyone to crowd in. Trixie was there, but around a dozen other ponies, most of them unicorns, were also in the circle.

When asked if she sensed the magic of the ceremony, Trixie once again bent to overwhelming social pressure and said yes, she did. To her surprise, other unicorns chimed in agreement. Did they sense something she did not, or were they just giving in to the mood of the gathering as she had done? There was no way to know, no way to ask them without revealing her own perfidy.

Katrina’s visits to England became infrequent during this time. By what Trixie gathered from the news, she was involved in some sort of upheaval occurring in another nation called Egypt — the same place that Desert Rose had been on her way to, Trixie belatedly recalled. However, human politics seemed like chaos. Equestria’s system of government was utterly simple and perfectly stable, and it provided no perspective for understanding the multitude of squabbling and maneuvering factions on Earth.

The video images she’d seen of fighting in the streets of Cairo were disturbing: masked men throwing fire bombs, riot police with shields and tear gas, cars overturned. Then there were the bombings. She worried about Katrina’s safety, but there was unrest in much of the human world now. Even in England there had been some rioting in the cities. Ponies would never behave that way, Trixie thought. But on second thought, was that fair? Who could say what they might do if they were facing the end of their world, or at least its complete transformation into something unfamiliar?

The ponies of Equestria had, in fact, faced dire threats in recent memory: Nightmare Moon’s endless night, Discord’s reign of chaos, the Changeling invasion. All of those had been resolved in less than a week, though. Equestria hadn’t faced the kind of relentless, grinding doom that the humans of Earth had to deal with now, month after month, year after year, watching their world being nibbled away.

Trixie shrugged off her musings and returned to her maps. Despite being a total fraud, she found herself more and more engaged in their creation. Designing a network of lines and symbols across the British landscape was a task that plucked some inner chord of creativity within her, and she was drawn back to the work again and again. The network of ley lines may not have any real power, yet somehow she felt compelled to perfect its layout and make it cohesive and elegant. Several times she’d made revisions to existing maps, causing frustration among the New Stone Raisers, but they always acquiesced and altered their monuments accordingly.

Unsurprisingly, no one — human or pony — had succeeded in analyzing the method or logic of her voodeedoo creations. Because there wasn’t any method or logic. This secret both haunted and thrilled Trixie, and the power to send humans scrambling with the stroke of her pen was sometimes intoxicating. Other times, guilt gnawed at her.

Despite the economy being in tatters, money was never a problem, and Bit Coins flowed freely. Not only did Lord Peter continue his support, but donations poured in to the New Stone Raisers from countless sources, large and small. Trixie even heard from Florence that a number of the most wealthy humans had contributed anonymously, unwilling to have their names associated with the crackpot scheme, yet secretly believing it might work. The movement also spread beyond the British Isles into mainland Europe, despite the governments there being much less friendly toward it.

These were not the only events that transpired during the long summer. More unpredictable spasms of weather broke out around the world, beyond anything human science could forecast or pegasus ponies could control.

Across the ocean, the isles of the Caribbean were falling one by one, converted to Exponential Lands where only ponies or other species native to Equis could survive. Cuba was gone. Florida was gone. The Yucatan was being nibbled away. Alabama, Georgia and South Carolina were gone. As the summer waned, New Orleans was subsumed, and the scramble began to evacuate or Convert everyone from Houston, the fourth largest city in the USA.

Mexico and Central America would take the hit next, as the Barrier also began crawling up the heavily populated east coast of the USA. Many Americans had fled westward, if only to buy themselves some extra time among the ranks of the human race.

The idea that people could be Converted and simply move back into their old homes and continue their old lives, albeit in a somewhat different shape, had proved hopelessly naive. Human cities were designed around technology that no longer worked and which magic couldn’t directly replace. Inside the Exponential Lands, endless work was required to adapt buildings, infrastructure and institutions to the new reality. One of the first priorities was a new telegraph and telephone system. This was beyond state-of-the-art by Equestrian standards, but to newfoals it might as well have been smoke signals. Newfoals, still coming to grips with their new bodies, new limitations and new abilities, were aided by pony advisers from Equestria, but there were never enough to go around. The sheer scale of the problem was staggering. The best that could be said was that none of them starved, although many newfoals who became earth ponies were unhappy to be drafted into farm work.

Trixie watched all this from afar with the feeling of a lump of stone lodged in her belly. Other ponies were doing what they could to help humanity survive this unwanted, wrenching transformation. She, on the other hoof, was doing… what? Giving them false hope? Perhaps even leading them to destruction?

Oddly, the Barrier somewhat slowed its advance across the Atlantic, causing some puzzlement and debate amongst the savants who studied it. The New Stone Raisers latched onto the news and crowed that it was the first evidence that their efforts were beginning to pay off.

Trixie tuned into the news, where the usual talking heads and pundits were quick to deflate those claims. As one explained, “It’s a common misconception that the Barrier is a perfect circle, or even sphere, growing outward from its point of origin at an even pace in all directions. That has never been the case. For as long as we’ve been studying it there have been fluctuations and irregularities in its rate of spread. Now we’ve seen that progress in the open Atlantic has slowed, but the reasons are unclear. It may be something about the mass of water and ocean depths that retard it, or it may be related to the lack of human population in that large area. Then again, it may be nothing more than random chance. We’ve seen absolutely nothing to suggest, though, that it has any relation to all this neolithic style monument raising going on in Britain — especially given the distance. After all, it’s still four thousand miles away from Britain.”

To the New Stone Raisers, and to the Golden Dawn, there was no such doubt. Lord Peter personally called Trixie to congratulate her, and a call from Katrina soon followed. It was during this conversation that Trixie raised a question that had been growing in her mind: “What now for me? I mean, is my job here not done? Even Trixie the Traveler eventually feels a call to return home.”

Katrina replied, “You’ve mapped out virtually an entire ley network for Britain, but what about Europe? What about the rest of the world? Unless we can break that curse and allow you to teach others how to do what you do, we still need you here.”

“I…” Trixie hesitated. “I could at least visit home for a bit, and then return, couldn’t I?”

“Perhaps,” Katrina answered. “I regret that the situation in Egypt has occupied more and more of my time, and I have not been able to engage as I wished with events in England. In light of this recent news, I am arranging a gathering at Lord Peter’s home. I would be pleased if you can attend, and then we can discuss your situation together.”

And so, a few days later Trixie found herself again a guest at the estate of her employer, Lord Peter Feathering-Walthamstone. As before, the place was bustling with guests, some of whom she recognized and more whom she did not. The mood was decidedly upbeat, and many humans accosted Trixie to offer her thanks and congratulations. None of them expressed the slightest doubt toward her work.

When she met Katrina, she was struck once again by something she’d noticed before. Katrina always seemed perfectly composed and self-confident. It wasn’t the strident self-confidence of Trixie’s stage persona. The feline lady always seemed at peace and utterly unflappable, bringing calm to those around her. In a way she brought to mind Princess Celestia, or at least what Trixie had heard about Celestia. Katrina greeted Trixie warmly, but in a matter of seconds she sensed the little pony’s unease. “What is troubling you?” she wondered.

Trixie glanced downward and rubbed one foreleg against the other. She glanced around and then asked, “Could we speak somewhere privately?”

The rather intimidating griffin, Black Talon, who seemed to have been promoted to Katrina’s personal bodyguard since they’d last met, started to interpose, but Katrina raised a hand to forestall him. “Of course.” She stood and gestured for Trixie to follow. Katrina led her to Lord Peter’s drawing room and closed the doors while the griffin stationed himself outside. Then she found a seat and gestured for Trixie to continue. “Please, share with me your concerns!”

Trixie said, “I want to return to Equestria, and not just for a vacation. I feel like I’ve done enough here.”

“This is more than merely a bit of homesickness, I think? But we still need you here.”

“No! I’ve done… I’ve mapped out a network of ley lines for pretty much all of the British Isles. It’s finished.”

“But there’s still Europe, there’s still the rest of the world. If we could break your curse and you could explain your methods to others, then it would be different.”

“There is no curse!” Trixie blurted, then sat back, wide-eyed, and covered her mouth with her front hooves.

Katrina pinned her with a steady gaze, ears turned forward, but said nothing.

Trixie stumbled on. “I mean… There’s no curse because there’s no secret to reveal. I never knew what I was doing with those maps. They’re only random doodles. I think I’ve caused enough harm here, and I don’t want to do any more.” She dropped, lowering her head to the floor and covering it with her arms. “Please don’t throw me in the dungeon!”

Katrina looked more puzzled than angry. “But your maps work, don’t they? Our volunteers have found ancient monuments at the sites you marked.”

“No!” Trixie objected. “I’ve seen how these volunteers work. They want to believe so badly, to them any mound of dirt becomes a neolithic monument, every random stone is a broken menhir. I’m a stage magician! If there’s one thing I understand, it’s people wanting to believe in magic. They can see anything if they want to badly enough, but it’s not real.”

Katrina listened grimly, then prodded, “But you did sense magic during the ceremonies.”

“No! I… I wanted to, and everyone around wanted it so much, that I just… I just said what they all wanted to hear. I never felt any magical discharge at all. I’m so sorry!” As her confessions poured out, her tone became more distraught.

“And now the barrier is slowing,” Katrina added.

“They said on TV that it’s only coincidence. Just like all those monuments my maps supposedly led to.”

Trixie lapsed into miserable silence. Katrina was also silent for a few moments, but then she said, softly, “Trixie… In my experience there’s no such thing as coincidence.”

Trixie blinked through teary eyes. “What?”

Katrina leaned forward and placed a comforting hand on her mane. “You speak as one who has lost faith in herself. I still have faith in you, Trixie. All of this has happened for a reason. There is a reason why your actions and thoughts have been at odds, and it’s not because there’s anything wrong with you. You have been guided.”

Trixie shook her head dumbly, which prompted Katrina to continue. “When you were in the stone circle, you say you felt no magic. Yet, you were there and you witnessed the ceremony. What did you experience? What was it like?”

Trixie thought for a moment, then answered, “It was strange, and confusing, and… beautiful. I looked up at the stars, and they seemed to be looking down on us, and there was such energy in the crowd…” Her words trailed off.

“So you did sense something, though not what you expected. Perhaps your unconscious mind knew what to look for. And when you drew your maps, what did you see on the page?”

“See?”

“You must have seen patterns there, in your mind’s eye, or else you could not have drawn them.”

“Mind’s eye? But that’s only a metaphor.”

“Metaphors have far greater importance than most people know.” She leaned back and raised her hand, palm upward. “I have been thinking of you for a while, Trixie. If you truly wish to return to Equestria, I won’t stand in your way. However… I believe you have accomplished far more than you realize, and what you have told me today only cements my decision. I would like for you to come with me to Egypt.”

“Egypt? Why? I thought you wanted me to stay here.”

“You don’t need to be here to draw maps, Trixie. You can continue to create them in your spare time, and we can send them to our friends in Europe. Egypt also has ancient monuments. Your mere presence would lend cachet as I advocate their restoration as well. Beyond that, though, I would like for you to formally join the Golden Dawn and to learn the ways of Kemetic lore and magic. I would make you my personal student, if you are willing.”

Befuddled, Trixie said, “I don’t get it? I mean, I already know how to do unicorn magic, and I’m not sure human magic is even a real thing. I’ve never even seen Moondancer do anything with hers.”

“I need a pony skilled with unicorn magic, Trixie, and you are skilled. You could become my court magician on that basis alone. However, I believe you have even more potential. I can teach you things far beyond the muddled myths of the Wiccans. The magic they practice is that of nature and chaos. Kemetic magic is that of civilization and order.”

In Trixie’s mind whirled images she’d seen on TV, and she asked, “Will I be safe in Egypt?”

“Not entirely. There is no life without risk. However, I promise you will be as well guarded as myself.”

“Can… Could I think it over?”

“Of course. I find it’s always helpful to sleep on a big decision. Please let me know when you have made up your mind.”

Author's Note

And I've decided that is the conclusion of what I'm going to call "Book One" of The View Over Atlantis. When the story continues with Book Two (it may be a while), expect significant changes in setting and tone.

The View Over Atlantis

Author's Note

This was going to be the beginning of Book 2, but I realized it's really more of a transition, a bridge between the two major parts. Also, now you get to find out where the name of the story comes from.

The View Over Atlantis

Two days later Moondancer caught up with Trixie as she was packing for the journey, and surprised her with a gift-wrapped box. “It’s a going away present,” she explained, as she knelt and offered the box. “You’ll have something to remember me.”

Magenta scintillation engulfed the box, and Trixie’s magic delicately floated it out of Moondancer’s hands. She reached up with a hoof to tap on the side of the box, then she grasped it between her hooves and gave it a shake.

Moondancer sat on the floor, legs crossed, so she could converse at Trixie’s level. Grinning, she urged, “Go on, open it!”

Trixie glanced at her friend, then stared at the box and concentrated, her horn glowing more brightly. The colorful ribbons undid themselves, and the paper peeled back, then the lid floated off the box, and Trixie peered inside. A dark object about two inches of diameter floated out from the box, sparkling in her magical field. “It’s…” She squinted. “A ball?”

“It’s an orbuculum,” Moondancer clarified. “Or as more commonly known, a crystal ball.”

“It’s so small, and so dark. I’ve used a crystal ball in my act before, but it was much bigger, and it was clear.”

Moondancer chuckled softly. “I know what kind you mean: those big glass balls you see in movies, or that gypsy fortunetellers sometimes use. It impresses the marks. But this isn’t for show, this is the real thing, like those used by the Celtic Druids of old. And more practical too! You can carry it in a pocket.”

Trixie quipped, “You humans make everything so convenient!” However, she couldn’t take her eyes off it. Bands of light swept across its surface as it slowly rotated in her magical field. “It has… a shimmer almost like a huge black pearl, but not even really the same as that. I’ve never seen anything with a chatoyance like this.”

Moondancer nodded. “Traditionally these were carved from natural crystals of sea green beryl, but this one has a modern twist. It’s made from a fused mass of optical fibers. I picked it because I knew you’d never seen one like it back in Equestria. I wish I could teach you how to scry with it, but it doesn’t look like I’ll get the chance now.”

Trixie put the orb back into its box and set it down, then moved forward to hug Moondancer. “Maybe we’ll meet again someday, and we’ll have time for that. I’ll keep it safe and treasure it always!”

Not too long afterward Trixie found herself once again on board the supersonic Aerion jet, this time in the company of Katrina herself, along with Black Talon and a couple of Katrina’s human subordinates who kept to themselves in the aft part of the cabin. Thus, Trixie and Katrina had a chance to make small talk and get to know one another a bit.

Trixie told a few stories from her travels around Equestria, while Katrina listened and asked the occasional question. For her own part, Katrina explained a few things about her background. She said, “When I was small, the Kemetic Church was little more than a tiny, obscure cult. My mother always insisted that we were destined to return to power in Egypt, and I would become the new Pharaoh. At first I accepted this without question, the way a child accepts the Easter Bunny or Santa Claus. Later I began to realize just how far-fetched her expectations were.”

“And now?” Trixie prompted.

Katrina shrugged. “Our religion is still small, but growing quickly. And the world is in upheaval. From chaos can sprout great change. Egypt has suffered so much… They’ve staggered from one failed government to another to another, and they survived the Daesh War, and now the people are tired of it all. They want someone to bring order out of the chaos. Maybe—just maybe—I can convince enough of them to give me a chance to try. However, there are many other factions angling for power. It’s still a long shot for me.” She leaned forward and confided, “I think most Egyptians, the ones who have even heard of me, consider me a bit of a joke.”

Trixie mulled that over, but Katrina soon deflected the conversation to lighter topics.

After they had been flying over the Mediterranean for some time, one of Katrina’s attendants came and whispered something to her. She nodded and then peered out the window for a moment. Then she turned and said, “Trixie, I know you have wondered about the central hub that the ancient network of magic was built around.”

Trixie looked up. “I remember you mentioned it when we first met. You said it was destroyed in a cataclysm. I wondered if we were going to rebuild it too. But… I don’t know what it is, or where it is.”

Katrina closed her eyes, and Trixie wondered for a moment if she’d said something wrong. But then Katrina opened her eyes and looked to Trixie with a hint of sadness. “That hub, the Heart of Magic, belonged to the Sea People, and I must tell you their story. In ancient times the Sea People lived upon the Mediterranean, and they had settlements on many islands. Their empire was the gift of the sea, just as Egypt is the gift of the Nile. They were masterful fishermen and traders who sailed in every direction, and their merchants brought back wealth and knowledge. They were the only other civilization of those times that rivaled mighty Kemet. In some ways they may have even surpassed us.”

“Their grand capital city was built upon the island of Atlantis. There they created palaces, temples, a great library, and most of all, the Heart of Magic. The most powerful of ley lines converged upon it and connected it to all the world’s great monuments in a network of supernatural power. It became the driving force behind the prosperity of their nation.”

The plane was slowing and descending, Trixie could feel it. Katrina turned to peek out the window for a moment. Trixie asked, “We’re not to Egypt yet, are we?”

“No. I asked the pilot to descend here so that I could show you something. Come over to the window.”

Trixie moved to the window. The blue sea was below, and a few islands. She felt her weight shift as the plane banked into a wide turn and continued to descend. She steadied herself with her hooves and asked, “What am I seeing?”

“Be patient…” A minute passed, and a tight cluster of three islands swung into view, and the plane began to circle them. Katrina nodded and said, “Describe to me what you see!”

“Can you not see it yourself?” Trixie wondered.

“Humor me. Tell me what it looks like to you.”

Trixie was reminded of Ivan’s trick when she’d first set foot at Castlerigg with him, when he’d asked her to count the stones. She narrowed her eyes with suspicion, but it seemed the only way to get to the answer was to play along. She looked at the islands. “I see a scattering of towns, and an airport. There’s a couple of huge white ships in the lagoon, like floating palaces. It’s beautiful.”

“What about the islands, Trixie? What does their shape tell you?”

She blinked. “uhh… The big one is almost like a horseshoe. And then there’s a gap, and the next island continues around to almost make a letter C. And then there’s another island right in the center, and then there’s a couple of tinier ones. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to be seeing?”

“The big island is named Thera. However, in ancient times these were all one land mass. This is where the Sea People built their capital city. This was Atlantis, where the Heart of Magic was constructed.”

“One land mass?” Trixie echoed. She stared out the window again, puzzled for a few moments, but then her eyes widened as she pieced together the explanation. Against her will, she gasped and raised a hoof to her mouth, stunned momentarily by the enormity of what was before her. “It’s… a crater. That C-shaped lagoon is a giant crater in the sea.” She was silent for a few moments, then managed to ask, “What happened here?”

“Many of the natural upwellings of magical power from the earth are found at volcanoes: Shasta, Fuji, Kilimanjaro, Hawaii. All these are regarded as mystical places. To build a great monument atop such a volcano guarantees immense power. When the volcano exploded, it blew Atlantis apart. Then the empty caldera collapsed into the sea. The Heart of Magic is most likely down there somewhere: blasted, burned, buried under volcanic ash, and sank beneath the waves, along with whatever else remains of the great city. It didn’t end there, either. The shock waves from the blast caused tsunami waves to ripple out in all directions, like a rock thrown into a pond. The waves surged ashore on islands and coastlines, drowning the people and washing away entire settlements. It marked the end of the Sea People’s empire. Some of them survived, of course, but they became nomads, sailing around the Mediterranean in search of a new home, unwelcome wherever they landed, until they faded into the mists of time.”

Trixie wondered, “It… It wasn’t just coincidence, that the volcano blew up?” It was barely even a question.

“What exactly they did that might have triggered it, one can only guess. Plato wrote that the gods punished the Sea People for their hubris, but that is both exceedingly vague and a typically Greek allegory, so I would hardly trust his opinion.” Then Katrina’s voice shifted from a lecturing tone to one of curiosity. “Is there anything like this in the history of your world, Trixie?”

Trixie was quiet for a moment, thinking, then slowly shook her head. “There was, uh… The reign of Discord. He scrambled the geography of Equestria, and there are still scars on the land, like the Badlands and Ghastly Gorge. But even then, it was horrible, but most ponies survived. They weren’t wiped out like this. Maybe the Penna Birds…” Her voice trailed off.

“What are those?” Katrina prompted.

“Some of our oldest legends tell that the Penna Birds were the first civilization in our world, before ponies even. They were very advanced, but then something happened to them. No record remains, and nopony even knows what they really looked like. Most of our scholars think they were only a myth.” She looked out the window again, her eyes scanning the islands below her. They looked peaceful now, but her imagination filled in the horror that must have unfolded here.

Katrina thumbed the intercom and signaled the pilot to proceed, and the plane turned away from the islands and began climbing again. Pensively, Trixie settled back into her seat.

Katrina gave Trixie a few minutes to think, then she said, “I showed you this for a reason. I wanted to explain why we can’t simply rebuild the Heart of Magic as it once was, where it once was. Even if we knew how to construct it, and even if the site where it once stood wasn’t a watery crater, we would be fools to repeat the mistake of the Sea People. It’s more than that, though. I also want you to know that we are manipulating powerful forces we do not fully understand. It’s dangerous. It is also necessary, but we must be mindful, lest we set in motion events even worse than the advancing Barrier. You understand?”

Trixie nodded somberly. “Yes. I do now.”

Prologue (Intro to Conversion Bureau)

On the night of 12 April 2045, spring thunderstorms rolled across the Everglades of southern Florida. This was far from an unusual occurrence.

The perfectly smooth silver dome found the next morning was another matter. It was somewhat less than 500 meters in diameter, located deep in the Big Cypress National Preserve, within view of U.S. Route 41. It was first reported by passersby. Local law enforcement and reporters soon investigated.

Before the day was over, national news media swarmed the site, and the National Guard had been called in to keep order and keep the public away from the mysterious dome. The initial investigation by first responders had discovered (almost accidentally) that, although the surface looked like a polished ball bearing, they could step through without hindrance. They found themselves standing not inside but rather outside of another, identical dome — somewhere else. The surroundings appeared similar, but not identical, and deserted of any other people. Stepping into the dome again returned them to the original dome in the Everglades. Only a handful of people went through, and only briefly before returning. Further experimenting was halted until scientists could investigate.

The terse reports from the few people who’d seen the other side described a normal-looking, earth-like landscape. Bizarrely, electronic devices — including phones and cameras — failed to function there. Planes flew all over the Everglades looking for another dome, but none was found. Meanwhile, a steady, cool breeze blew outward from the dome, causing patchy fog to condense around it.

At sunrise the next morning it was discovered that the silver dome was surrounded by a slightly larger dome of what looked like clear glass. Once again, though it appeared solid, objects passed through easily, but without being transported anywhere. The clear dome was slowly growing in size, creating an ever-increasing gap between itself and the inner, silver dome, and electronics also failed in this interim region. The investigators who had gone through the dome the previous day had, by this time, fallen ill and were taken away for quarantine and observation. Fearing some sort of radiation or pathogen, authorities moved everyone even further back. The military began preparing a small team of volunteers with full NBC (nuclear-biological-chemical) suits to venture into the silver dome and attempt to scout the other side more thoroughly.

Before the scouts were ready to depart, the first pegasus popped out of the silver inner dome. It was small, a miniature horse with an implausibly sea-green coat and white mane and tail, flying easily on impossibly small wings. It looked around, wide-eyed, surprise written on its oddly expressive face, and then it darted back into the dome.

Soon it returned with several other pegasi. First contact was aided greatly when it was discovered that the ponies spoke a language nearly identical to English (or, conversely, that the local humans spoke a language nearly identical to Equestrian). It soon became apparent that the silver dome was nothing less than a portal between two parallel worlds: one of humans and one of small, colorful equinoids — or ponies, as they called themselves.

A frenzy of public interest erupted in the following days, on both sides of the portal. Humans around the world were glued to their TV sets, learning about pegasi, unicorns and “earth ponies” (as the ones without horns or wings were somewhat confusingly called), and a world awash in magic. Ponies devoured newspaper reports about humans and a vast new world powered by incredible science and technology.

The cause of the portal’s eruption remained a mystery that befuddled human scientists and pony scholars of magic alike. Could it happen again? Would it last? Nobody knew. Meanwhile, the glass-like dome continued advancing.

The euphoria of those days was soon tempered. Humans who ventured into Equestria became ill within hours and were forced to return to the human world. By comparison, ponies seemed to suffer little ill effect from visiting America; at worst, their magic-based abilities were somewhat weaker or recovered more slowly when expended during their visits. Humans who merely ventured near the portal — within the boundaries of the crystal dome — suffered ill effects not unlike radiation poisoning, although no radiation could be detected. The crystal dome continued growing even more quickly than it had at first, pushing the safe area for humans further and further away, placing an increasing area of the Everglades effectively off-limits to them.

Intense study by scholars from both worlds reached few firm conclusions, but did produce some disturbing observations. The portal and the advancing crystal dome were, crudely speaking, magical in nature, though they didn’t seem to be the result of any type of spell that unicorns understood. The worlds exchanged atmosphere: breezes blew through the portal, from one world or the other, depending on the difference of local barometric pressure. The portions of Earth inside the clear dome experienced a subtle transformation; weather became more tractable to pegasus control, plants and animals more easily nurtured by earth ponies, and spells became easier for unicorns to cast. Wild animals caught in its boundaries seemed to gradually gain intelligence. In short, the land became more like that of Equis, the pony world. Only humans and their closest relatives, great apes, were made ill from exposure to the magical field of this region.

Some reckless human adventurers took their chances and attempted to enter the dome, convinced that its poisonous effect was either a hoax or that they, personally, were somehow immune to it. Some of these ventures ended in death. After some time, the ruling Princesses of Equestria, Celestia and Luna, joined with their most talented unicorn spell-casters to add an enchantment to the crystal dome. They turned it into a Barrier that humans could not penetrate. For their own safety, humans would be unable to enter the converted zone that would come to be known as the Exponential Lands — or, to some, Greater Equestria. In time this enchantment would be further expanded to make the dome impermeable to items considered harmful to Equestria: poisonous chemicals, explosives and weapons of all kinds. All of these things, like humans, would be bulldozed and pushed away by the ever-expanding Barrier, as it came to be known.

The rate of the Barrier’s expansion could be estimated only roughly. Its expansion rate had already been observed to change unpredictably. It was slow, but it never stopped growing, and various predictions were made for how long it would take to convert the world and crush humanity out of existence — assuming no solution could be found. Attempts to slow the Barrier’s advance were uniformly unsuccessful. Attempts to immunize human beings against the effects of Equis’s so-called “thaumic field” fared no better. As the Barrier approached Naples, Florida, the matter took on greater urgency, and the general feeling of anxiety began turning to panic. Most inhabitants were evacuated from the city successfully, but the refugee crisis in America had begun.

A different, more desperate, solution was formulated. Pony scholars of magic, together with human scientists and AI artilects, devised a concoction that blended advanced nanotechnology with advanced enchantment to transform a human in a matter of minutes. With the Potion humans could be converted to ponies of random type, with statistically equal numbers becoming unicorns, pegasi or earth ponies. Newfoals, as they would be known, left behind their old forms but retained their minds and personalities and gained the ability to use magic and to live within the Exponential Lands, or even upon Equis itself. As an added bonus, the transformation cured medical conditions, regenerated limbs, and even reversed the ravages of age. In the 2040s many of these things could be done using technology instead of magic, but only with far greater time and cost.

With no other option demonstrated to work, plans were laid for mass conversion of the human race into magical ponies. Conversion Bureaus were opened in major cities. At first they were visited by the destitute, aged and infirm. Their quick and easy transformation into healthy, bright-eyed ponies made Conversion seem a less fearful prospect, at least for some.

Not everyone would accept this fate so easily. Factions began to form, and conflict followed.

The HLF — Human Liberation Front — believed the Emergence, the Barrier and Conversion were all planned and caused directly by Celestia, The Solar Tyrant, with the goal of subjugating Earth under her rule. Although hostile toward ponies in general, and viewing the converted newfoals with scorn, Conversion Bureaus were the primary focus of their wrath, and more than a few of these were burned or bombed.

Among ponies (and a few sympathizers) the PER — Ponyfication for Equestria’s Rebirth — represented an equally strident opposing view. Humans were violent and corrupt, meat eaters, polluters, ruiners of their own world. Conversion would save the Earth from mankind, save mankind from itself, and establish a Greater Equestria far larger, wealthier and more powerful than ever imagined before. Although Princess Celestia had decreed Conversion must never be forced, the PER were convinced she secretly wished all humans converted, willingly or otherwise, and they were happy to carry out this effort in her name even as she publicly denounced them.

Some artilects — artificial intelligences, new in the world, but already growing in capabilities and power — began uploading themselves to the rapidly-expanding lunar colony. It would take a long time for the Barrier to reach the moon, if it ever did. And then, if the converted world proved hostile to them, there was always the rest of the solar system, and beyond. Earth was their cradle, not their home.

The Chinese, although allowing Conversion Bureaus to be opened in their country, also began building large numbers of breeder reactors: a seemingly outdated technology when the rest of the world had already begun switching to nuclear fusion plants. Rumors began to circulate of a massive program to produce thousands of nuclear weapons, and the world trembled with rumors of war. Then it emerged — though not openly acknowledged — that the bombs were intended as drive bombs to power a fleet of huge, Orion-type spaceships and transport a large colony to Mars. Although only a tiny fraction of their population could go, they intended that some portion of humanity could thus survive as humans, not as ponies.

And the rest of the world, by and large, looked on with apprehension, and waited to see what would happen.

Friendship and Witchcraft

Trixie stared back at the woman, evaluating her. She was plump, very pale-complected, but freckled, red-haired. She wore a black frock with ornate moon-and-star decorations, and a large crystal hung as a pendant from her neck. She was also most definitely not a unicorn or, indeed, any sort of equine.

Trixie opened her mouth and managed to stammer, “I… uh… The Great and Powerful Trixie is pleased to make your acquaintance.” Her mind was still whirling, though, as an awful thought pieced itself together. Moondancer was a classical unicorn name. Her clothing, her crystal pendant, even the greeting she had spoken, all seemed like things one might expect from a unicorn pony — indeed, not just any random unicorn, but a professional spellcaster such as Trixie herself. The impression was of one who delved deeply into magic and wanted everypony else to know it.

Trixie had never heard of a reverse conversion, of a pony being transformed into a human. The thought hadn’t even seriously occurred to her until this moment. What would be the purpose?

Moondancer must have noticed some befuddled expression on Trixie’s features. She asked, “Are you all right?”

Trixie couldn’t quite bring herself to say out loud what she suspected. “Yes, Trixie is fine! She had been led to expect another unicorn, that’s all. Moondancer sounds like a unicorn name.”

The woman laughed and said, “I hadn’t thought of that. I’m sorry to disappoint you. Well, Trixie sounds to me like a human name.”

Trixie blinked, even more uncertain now. “It does?”

“It’s a nickname for Beatrix, isn’t it? It means traveller or wanderer.”

“Err… It does? I mean, no… My name is just Trixie. It’s not a nickname; it’s merely a name for a pony who does tricks.”

“I see. Well, at least you’re not a one-trick pony!” She giggled, but Trixie’s blank stare showed that she didn’t get the joke. “Ahem, well… Abdel told me about you, and I’ve been looking forward to meeting you. I hope we can learn a lot from one another.”

Trixie’s tail switched indecisively, then she blurted, “Trixie was told you are an adept. How is that possible? You don’t have a horn; how can you cast spells?”

“Trixie, I’m Wiccan. My magic is witchcraft.”

Trixie took a step back, ears flattened, and squeaked, “You’re a witch?”

“Don’t you have witches in Equestria? But you know what the word means.”

“We have stories about witches, just old fairy tales. Witches are supposed to ride on flying broomsticks, and make potions in bubbling cauldrons, and cast hexes and put the evil eye on ponies. Fillies dress up as witches on Nightmare Night. But none of that is real.”

Moondancer nodded. “We have silly stories like that here too. But if you want to find out what it’s really all about, I’ll be happy to explain.” She smiled and added, “I’d like to learn about unicorn magic too, even if I can’t cast the spells myself.”

“Trixie, ah… supposes there is no harm in that. She will most likely be returning to Equestria soon, though.”

Moondancer’s smile faded. “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Is anything wrong?”

“It’s… No, not wrong as such. Why don’t you go ahead and get settled in, and then Trixie will explain?”

After Moondancer had put her bags in her room and freshened up, the two of them met in the lounge to continue their conversation. Trixie gave a somewhat biased account of her initial examination of the stone circle. She concluded, “Trixie could detect no trace of magic at all. Either the magic of your world doesn’t interact with unicorn magic, or the stone circle is in such ruin that it can no longer function at all.”

Moondancer countered, “The henges predate even the ancient Wicca by thousands of years, but we hold them as sacred places of power. I promise you, there is magic in that circle.”

“Be that as it may, the Great and Powerful Trixie is always in demand and has other calls on her time and expertise. Remaining here does not seem fruitful.”

“Ah well. I’m sorry that I won’t get to spend more time with you. Meanwhile, where is Ivan? I thought he would meet me here too.”

“He is at the stone circle, supervising the machinery.”

“Machinery?” Moondancer’s eyes went wide. “They haven’t started work on the site yet, have they?”

“Trixie should imagine they have. All the machines and their operators were ready to begin this morning when Trixie departed.”

“What, didn’t they have any kind of ceremony to consecrate it?”

“umm… Ivan said they didn’t have any groundbreaking ceremony planned.”

“That doesn’t make sense. He should know better.” Moondancer stood up. “I’ve got to get up there and see what they’re doing!” She started toward the door, then stopped and asked, “Trixie, do you know the way? Can you show me?”

“If you will allow Trixie a moment to retrieve her hat and cape, she will assist you.”

They could hear the sound of machinery in the distance as soon as they were out the door. “Hop in my car!” Moondancer said. After a bit of magical fumbling with the door handle, Trixie got in the passenger side of the little electric convertible, and they sped down Castle Lane.

All around the stone circle, the green field was marred with brown excavation, with a couple of JCBs scraping at the earth and pushing it about. Ivan was easy to spot, and as soon as Moondancer was out of the car she made a beeline to him, and Trixie followed.

As soon as he noticed them, his eyes went wide and he jumped back in a comically exaggerated gesture of surprise, hands raised. “Ye gods! Can this be Moondancer? I was expecting someone… shorter…”

“I’m Moondancer!” she acknowledged, “and we’ve met, though it’s been some years ago.”

“Uhh… Have we now?”

She spoke loudly over the noise of a JCB running nearby. “It was more than ten years ago at Glastonbury, at the Swan Circle. Not that you’d remember. I wasn’t a High Priestess with my own coven back then, was I?”

Ivan pursed his lips and scratched at his beard. “I suppose congratulations are in order. And Abdel sent you to do what now?”

“For starters, to hold a convocation and bless this project at its inception — but it seems I’m a little late for that. Trixie said you didn’t even hold a groundbreaking ceremony!” She glared accusingly.

“Well, no… It would have been nice, but we’re pressed for time here. We’ve already had too many delays.”

“Nice? It would have been nice? Did you plan this at all? We don’t even have a full moon. And Mars is in ascension! It’s in Sagittarius for heaven’s sake! Do you know what that means?”

“Ahhh… Honestly, haven’t a clue.”

She sighed and covered her face with her hand for a moment, then shook her head and said, “This doesn’t bode well. To bring this circle back to its potential, it’s not just about moving soil and rocks around; it has to connect with the spirits!”

Ivan raised his hands, defensively. “See here, luv… Spirits aren’t my bailiwick. I know dolmens and barrows, menhirs and trilithons, henges and cairns. They’re tangible, solid things that I can touch and measure.” He glanced up. “Hold on a moment!” He waved to one of the JCB operators and went to talk with him, gesturing at the ditch that was being excavated. Then he trotted back to Trixie and Moondancer and said, “Maybe we’d better talk this over back at the farmhouse. Or I say, we can all go to town this evening for supper and hear everyone’s perspective, don’t you think?”

Moondancer glanced at Trixie, who’d been watching and listening to the whole exchange, and then she shrugged and answered Ivan with an indifferent tone, “All right, then. I suppose we’ll see you later.”

After they had returned to the farmhouse, Trixie joined Moondancer in her room. Moondancer sighed, closed her eyes for a moment, and then made an odd gesture with her hand, as if tossing some small object away from her, while she muttered, “an it harm none”. Then she appeared to relax as if a weight had gone from her.

Trixie watched this and asked, “What did you just do?”

“Oh… I picked up some negative energy from Ivan, so I just cast it away. Don’t unicorns have anything like a negative banishing ritual?”

“Uhh… Of course! Of course we do. Trixie merely didn’t recognize it because your method is so, uh… different.”

“Ah well. A full negative energy banishing ritual needs to be performed at night when the moon is waning, and it requires some preparation. The working I just now performed is the least and most expedient of all banishings. It’s something from magic kindergarten, really. I’d be happy to walk you through it, though, if you wish.”

“That might be informative. If you please?”

“Just a moment!” Moondancer took her travel bag and pulled out a book with a silver pentagram embossed into the black cover. “This is the Book of Shadows. It records the traditions, ceremonies and workings of my order, and more.” She opened it, flipped through a few pages. From what Trixie glimpsed, it was all hand-written, not printed.

After a few moments Moondancer seemed to find what she was looking for. Sitting comfortably on the edge of her bed, she read: “This is the ancient ritual employed by the Adepts and Sages of the Inner Order. It was decreed in the Elder Ages that this Ritual be maintained in strict secrecy until the prophesied Weird Times of the Twenty-First Century, lest the Power be abused for naught. Now is the time.”

“This ritual is useful for releasing and banishing prickly annoyance, petty hostility, and ego-induced distractions of all sorts. It is often effective in regaining centering and the Inner Silence to which one aspires… err, let me skip ahead a bit…” She fell silent for a moment as her eyes skimmed the page.

“Ah, here we go! To work this Working: Make the Banishing Sign of the Python (a tuathal motion of the extended left hand, with a snappy flip of the wrist) in the precise direction of an appropriate quarter.” She demonstrated the gesture, then glanced at Trixie who was looking at her own raised hoof with a frown. “Hmm, that could be a problem. Ah well, I’m sure you can adapt the gesture to something that works for a unicorn.”

She looked back to her book and read, “As you so do, intone, ‘An it harm none…’ Project your negative energy down your arm and off from your fingertips into the chosen quarter while intoning the Word of Power from within the core of your being. Do all three actions simultaneously.”

Trixie cocked an ear toward her. “Word of power?”

“Yes! Knowledge of the Sacred Word of Power is entrusted to the few. Many may marvel at your adeptitude once you have achieved proficiency. However… The Sacred Word of Power is inconceivable and unpronounceable until your initiation.” She scratched the side of her nose and added, “Or you might figure it out and initiate yourself. Who can tell? Who could know?”

Trixie chuckled uncertainly, not quite sure if that was a joke. “Aheh… OK, what about the other part? Something about an appropriate quarter?”

Moondancer nodded and read from her book again: “The quarter into which you choose to project the energy makes an elemental difference. You can throw the irritant into the South (Fire/destruction); you can sink it in the West (Water/chaos; see EEOP Manual); you can ground it into the North (Earth/burial/sleep); or (VERY special!) you can address it to the East (Air/Spirit) [let go and let Goddess]. Choose your quarter with care. A consecrated Egyptian ritual lodestone or an ordinary Scouting compass is helpful at first.”

Trixie concealed her skepticism poorly. “How fascinating. It does seem rather complicated merely to calm an irritated mind.”

“It’s easy when you get the hang of it. Inner peace is so hard to maintain in this crazy world, anything that can help is welcome.”

The unicorn hmmed. “Trixie wonders if you could show her some example of human magic with a result that she can observe. A simple light or levitation, perhaps?”

“Ohh… Wiccan magic doesn’t work that way. Our fundamental workings are more like scrying and divination, astral projection, remedies, or calling upon various forms of good fortune.”

Trixie blinked. “That’s it, then?”

“What do you mean, that’s it? Those are the basics. Once you’ve forged a strong connection with the mystical world, anything becomes possible.”

“So… Riding on broomsticks?”

Moondancer laughed! “If only!”

That evening Ivan gathered up Trixie and Moondancer, as well as Smithers, and they all went into Keswick town, to the Market Square where there was a pizza kitchen — still clinging to life, despite the collapse of the tourism industry. Moondancer was also a vegetarian, as it turned out, and they all settled on onions, bell peppers and mushrooms. (“And don’t skimp on the toppings!”, Ivan had demanded while placing their order.)

With introductions and food taken care of, it didn’t take long for Moondancer and Ivan to return to their topic of earlier in the day. Ivan said, “In retrospect I do wish we’d brought you in sooner, but it wasn’t up to me. You’ve got to understand all the higher-ups in The Golden Dawn are Kemetic, not Wiccan. I’m afraid they’re always going to look askance at you, luv.”

Moondancer narrowed her eyes. “Oh, what were they planning to do? Cut-and-paste their traditions from Egypt to England?”

“Something like that. I never was quite sure how they thought it would work, but I was too wrapped up in the technical problems to worry much about that. It’s been hectic.”

Smithers interrupted, “Excuse me, but I’m adrift here. I was under the impression that all you had to do was reconstruct the monuments, and then it would — somehow, miraculously — cause the Barrier to turn back.”

Ivan raised his hands in a helpless shrug. “In the best case, one might hope so. Maybe we don’t need to cast any spells or appeal to any deities. Maybe we can just build the mechanism and get the luminiferous ether — as Katrina calls it — flowing again, and that’ll do the trick. But nobody knows for sure.” He glanced at Trixie. “We’ve learned that magic in Equestria is sometimes governed, or powered, by emotions. Maybe we’ll have to get people emotionally, or spiritually, engaged with these structures before they become effective.”

The pony spoke up, “Trixie is not certain what you mean by spiritually engaged. She has heard of situations where powerful emotions influenced the casting of spells, though.”

Ivan nodded. “As I said before, it’s not my bailiwick. I’ve been leaving that to Lord Peter and Katrina. But if you and Moondancer put your heads together, I’d love to hear whatever you can figure out about the subject.” He glanced up, and grinned. “And here comes our food. I’m ready for it!”

They divided up the pizza. To Ivan’s delight, the cheese was barely visible under the layers of veggies that had been piled on. Nibbles were quickly chased with sips of ice water. “Hot hot!” Trixie exclaimed.

While waiting for their slices to cool a bit, Moondancer said, “Trixie, I couldn’t help noticing that amazing crystal you clasped your cape with. What do you have it programmed for, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Trixie blinked. “Programmed? uhh…” Her eyes wandered to Moondancer’s pendant. “Trixie wouldn’t want to boast. Why don’t you tell me about your crystal first?”

Moondancer smiled and fingered her crystal charm delicately. “Oh, this? I’ve programmed it to enhance my spiritual growth.”

Trixie gasped. “What a coincidence! Trixie has programmed her gem to do exactly the same thing. Great minds must think alike.”

Moondancer beamed, and clapped her hands together. “It’s like we’re soul-mates!”

That night Ivan came to knock on Trixie’s door. When she answered, she found his face grim. “Have you turned on your telly?” he asked. She shook her head dumbly. “I think you’d better come see this,” he said.

She found everyone else in the house gathered in the lounge, eyes focused on the screen hanging on the wall there. Trixie found a seat and listened.

“Early reports indicate at least four ponies were involved in the attack. Police are still searching for a fifth, described as a gray unicorn stallion, who may have taken part. Parts of the refugee camp are still under lockdown, and an unknown number of victims are trapped, unable to receive the medical attention that they desperately need.”

“Eyewitnesses who escaped the carnage described scenes of horror, as the weaponized potion had unpredictable effects on those exposed. Some were partially transformed, while others were said to have melted.”

“The Equestrian embassy issued a statement condemning the attack in the strongest possible terms, and offering assistance in both the investigation and treatment of the survivors.”

They all watched: images of flashing lights, ambulances and stretchers, heavily armed law men, and reporters interviewing dazed and confused witnesses, and repeating the same inadequate and unreliable information, over and over.

Smithers scratched his chin. “The PER… They’ve kidnapped humans and forcibly converted them before. But never anything like this. This is madness.”

Ivan crossed his arms and brooded, his normally jovial countenance now stony, and he said nothing.

Mildred was quiet too, but clasped her hand over her mouth and shook her head as if not wanting to believe. Her fearful gaze was drawn to Trixie for a moment before she retreated, leaving the room to tend her chores elsewhere in the house.

Moondancer made some sort of arcane gesture and muttered a Wiccan incantation. Then she sat beside Trixie and petted her mane. “Are you all right, dear?” she asked softly.

Trixie started slightly at the unexpected touch, but then shook her head and said, “I feel sick.”

“Let’s switch this off!” Ivan said as he picked up the remote. The screen went blank, the sound quiet.

“I was watching that!” Smithers objected.

Ivan shook his head. “You won’t learn anything more from it today. They don’t have a clue what they’re going on about. Give it some time. Tomorrow they’ll have the story sorted.”

Smithers grunted softly. “I suppose you’re right.” He spared a sympathetic glance toward Trixie, then returned to his own room.

A brooding silence sustained for a few minutes while Trixie rested her head upon the couch cushions and Moondancer lightly stroked her mane. At length, Trixie raised her head and muttered, “I thought we were better.” The two humans looked to her questioningly, but waited patiently for her to find words.

When they came, she spoke more clearly. “I mean ponies. I thought… I thought we didn’t do things like this. I thought no pony did, no pony would.” But even as she spoke those words, they rang false. Trixie may not have been a star pupil in history class, but even she could remember the broad outlines of the Wizard Wars. Names of infamy like King Sombra and General Yarak and Malaclypse Magus came back to her. They had lived long ago, in a more brutish age. But then there was Nightmare Moon, too, in the not-so-distant past. Trixie sighed. “I was naive.”

Author's Note

Just a small installment to prove this story isn't completely dead yet.