Gilda's wing may have been partially healed by Trixie’s channeling spell, but it was still hurting after her unexpected fall into the chamber beneath the sanctuary. When the floor gave way under her feet, she had instinctively flapped her wings to stay aloft, but the unexpected surge of pain had caused her to drop like a load of bricks. Fortunately for her, the fall had only been about ten feet, and she had landed safely enough that she hadn’t sustained any new injuries.
At least the room in which she now found herself was well lit. Her first instinct was to call out to Trixie and Braeburn, but she quickly decided to save her voice. Whoever had opened the trap doors meant to separate them, and she assumed that would extend to a way to prevent any communication between them, whether mundane or magical. And anyway, she was happy to have a respite from Trixie's domineering personality and Braeburn's constant moral indecision. She might have finally admitted to herself that she missed Rainbow Dash more than she resented her finding new friends, but her attitude toward ponies in general had softened only slightly. She was, after all, still a griffon at heart.
Like any griffon, she hated being caged, and was on the lookout for a way out of her current predicament as soon as she was standing again. The chamber in which she found herself was essentially a long hallway—so long that she couldn't even be sure of what lay at the opposite end. But there was a sign, bearing the simple message The Real Test Starts Here. Gilda grumbled a few obscenities about wizards and their unduly high opinions of their own cleverness, but she was still relieved. If there was a test, that must mean that passing it would get her out of the chamber.
"Alright, whoever you are," she announced, "let's do this! The sooner I ace your lame test, the sooner I can get back to stealing your magical rock!"
Gilda had barely issued her challenge when the floor began to rumble and shift underneath her, subtly at first, but with an increasing violence that soon had her trying to dig her talons into the crystal floor for support. No sooner had she managed to steady herself than a sound like a colossal thunderclap split the air. A rare cry escaped from Gilda’s beak as the ceiling and the walls began to tear apart around her, the pieces shooting straight up, disappearing into the shining white sky above. The temple obliterated, Gilda found herself outside again, perched on the new mountain peak left in the wake of its destruction.
Despite the panic the ruinous spectacle had caused in her, Gilda’s first thoughts were for Trixie and Braeburn. They couldn't have fallen far from her when the trap doors opened, but the place where they should have landed was now nothing but open air. Despair was starting to set in when, over the wild roar of the wind, Gilda heard a familiar voice.
“Gilda! Down here!”
The griffon peered into the chasm that had formed beneath her perch, but what she saw there did nothing to ease her fears. Trixie had managed to catch herself, but was dangling precariously from a crystalline outcropping, her horn glowing with magical energy. A few yards beneath her, Braeburn hung in the air, his freefall stopped, at least momentarily, by Trixie’s levitation spell.
“Hang on, Trix!” Gilda shouted back. Trying not to think of the pain she was about to endure, the griffon leaped from the peak and tried to glide as gently as she could down to where Trixie was clinging to the ledge. Even that proved to be intensely painful given the state of her wing, but she attempted to block out the agony by replaying in her mind the words Rainbow Dash had chided her with so long ago at Junior Speedsters camp: When somepony’s in trouble and you can help them, you do!
At the moment, whether she could help was a big 'if'. Braeburn's first aid job, already taxed by the last leg of her journey up the mountain, was quickly unraveling under the strain of flying. When the bandages finally did give way, she had no idea whether she would be able to support her own weight, let alone Trixie's and Braeburn's. As she alighted near Trixie, though, she did her best to put on a brave face.
"What are you doing?" Trixie cried before Gilda had a chance to speak. "Don't waste time on me! Get Braeburn before I drop him!"
"How much longer can you hold him?" Gilda asked. "I can carry you, and you carry him."
"I d-don't know!" Trixie growled. "Just hurry!"
Gilda surveyed the situation one last time, and made her decision. The wildfire burning through her broken wing told her two trips were out of the question. She could save one of her companions for sure, but if she chose Braeburn, it would mean leaving Trixie behind. Really, then, there was only one choice.
"Don't let go of him, Lulamoon!" Gilda said, lifting Trixie with her forelegs and, before she could think about the consequences, beating her wings for takeoff. As the horrific pain coursed through her, she screamed in the hope of a release, and for a moment she was convinced all three of them were going to plummet into the ever deepening chasm below. With that thought, though, her cry of agony formed into a single word, one that had defined her entire life—one that, in that desperate moment, took on a significance she had never known it could have.
"No!"
At that moment, every inch of her refused to give in to despair, to be beaten by injuries and humiliation and all the barriers she had built between herself and the rest of the world. She flapped her wings harder, letting the pain engulf her until it was no longer an adversary but her entire world. The peak was coming closer, and with it safety, rest, relief. She glanced down and saw that Trixie's horn was still glowing with the magic of the levitation spell, and in that light she found the last of the strength she needed. With one final, titanic effort, she rose above the peak, dropped Trixie, and landed beside her just in time to see Braeburn desperately grab the ledge as Trixie exhausted the last of her magical energy. His hooves wildly tried to find purchase on the slippery surface, and Gilda dove to catch them. For a moment, talons gripped hooves, but Braeburn’s wild thrashing quickly undid the rescue attempt. He and Gilda screamed simultaneously as he slipped from her grasp and plunged back into the abyss.
With a quick look back at Trixie, who had collapsed presumably from some combination of exertion and mortal terror, Gilda threw herself after Braeburn once more. As difficult as the first rescue attempt had been, the second was going to be far worse. Not only had the adrenaline rush that had allowed Gilda to overcome her pain already started to wear off, Braeburn had a head start on her. She couldn't just dive after him and catch up. She was going to have accelerate, and that meant using her wings in a way she knew they couldn't take. Saving Braeburn might mean never again being able to fly like she could before the injury. However, even if she had wanted to turn back, it would have been too late.
As the beating of her wings began to seem like a form of torture that was being perpetrated against her rather than one she was actively causing, Gilda realized delirium was setting in. The wind forced her tears to streak up her cheeks, toward the back of her head, and she focused on the falling pony ahead of her in an attempt to forget her pain. She was gaining on him. It was something. It was everything. Seconds passed in slow motion until, at last, Braeburn was within arm’s reach for her. Gilda held her talons out in front of her, and soon she had as solid a grip on him as she felt capable of.
“We’re going up!” Gilda cried, partially to warn Braeburn of the impending shift in momentum, partially to remind herself that her journey was only half over. With the last of her strength, she pulled up in the gentlest curve she could manage, suddenly feeling Braeburn’s weight far more acutely than she had when they were still falling. With a choked cry, she pushed against gravity with everything she had left. The peak once again came closer, but not nearly fast enough. With a final burst of energy, which she felt certain was the last one her devastated wing would ever provide, she cleared the peak, dropped Braeburn at Trixie’s side, then crumpled to the ground.
As Gilda curled up there, her body wracked with sobs of pain and relief, a realization crept into her half-crazed mind. She was sure now that she knew what her father had always meant when he talked about being a true griffon. It had never been about dominating those weaker than yourself, but showing them what true strength is, giving them an ideal to which they could aspire. It was a feat she had never managed before that moment.
Behind Gilda’s closed eyes, she saw not darkness, but a pure white light that engulfed everything, welcoming her like the rising sun.
***
“No, no, no!”
Braeburn frantically dashed from one end of the long, crystalline hallway in which he had been imprisoned to the other, desperate to find a way out. Everything had happened so fast, he had no idea whether Trixie and Gilda had fallen into other traps, or if the two of them were still in the temple, using up the three wishes—his wish, Appleloosa’s wish.
He had nearly exhausted himself before he saw the sign, and cringed at its message. As if he hadn't been tested already! What else was his trek from one end of Equestria to the other, the company of a pompous and probably evil unicorn and a petulant griffon, being tortured by a cult of Nightmare Moon worshipers, pursued by Princess Celestia’s royal guard, climbing to the top of the Crystal Mountains only to be lured into a trap by a fake magical artifact?
“No!” Braeburn cried again. “No more tests! I already earned this wish!”
As if in response, the wall at the opposite end of the chamber became transparent, or perhaps disappeared entirely—from where he stood, it could have been either. Braeburn was galloping toward it before he realized what was happening in the room that was now visible to him. There was another altar, similar to the one in the temple above, but far more ornate. On it sat a gemstone that radiated a wild swirl of multi-colored light, so beautiful and hypnotic that Braeburn found himself unable to focus on it long enough to discern exactly what sort of stone it was. He forced himself to pull his attention away from the artifact before it swallowed his mind entirely, just in time to see a familiar unicorn and griffon approaching the dais.
Braeburn’s anxiety got the best of him. He attempted to rush through the passage into the next room, only to find that the apparent opening was, indeed, blocked by a transparent barrier. As the collision threw him to the floor, he saw his companions turn to one another and begin to talk. Trixie’s back was to him, but he could see the usual cross expression on Gilda’s face. Trixie responded by gesturing toward the stone, as if inviting Gilda to take it. Gilda eyed her suspiciously for a moment, but then began to move toward the altar again while Trixie stayed put.
No sooner had Gilda passed in front of Trixie than the unicorn’s horn began to glow. Realizing what was about to happen, Braeburn rushed to the invisible wall again, pounding on it with his forehooves and screaming a warning to the griffon.
“Gilda! Turn around! She’s gonna—”
Too late, Braeburn realized that while he could see through the wall, Gilda could not. A split second before her talons grasped the Wishing Stone, Trixie fired a bolt of magic, dropping the griffon in a heap before the altar. His face pressed against the invisible wall, Braeburn frantically tried to discern whether Gilda was still breathing. After several agonizing seconds, he had to admit to himself that she was not. As Trixie stepped closer to the altar and levitated the Wishing Stone over to herself, Braeburn slumped to the floor.
“Gilda…” he mumbled, his eyes burning with the beginnings of tears.
“Oh, stop it. You hated her as much as Trixie did.”
Braeburn looked up, weakly, and realized that it was only Gilda who had not been able to see or hear him through the wall. Trixie was standing over him, glaring at him with the disdainful expression with which he had become so familiar.
“You killed…” But Braeburn couldn't finish the sentence.
“Of course I did,” Trixie said, coming closer to Braeburn, the gem still floating securely at her side. “Do you know what goes into creating an artifact like the Wishing Stone? You don’t just zap some rock with a little bit of magic. You have to study for decades. You have to live with the item you’re going to enchant for years, know its every contour, be absolutely certain that it is completely without imperfections. The incantation takes days, and if it’s successful, the casting is so taxing that it drains years—literally years—from the mage's life!
“Do you know what Gilda was going to do with her wish? She was going to make Rainbow Dash be her friend again. That’s it! She could have wished to be the greatest flier who ever lived, to unite all griffons under her rule, for unlimited wealth and fame—any of those probably would have led to that idiot pegasus wanting to be her friend again. But she couldn't see the bigger picture. She was going to waste a wish on something as simple as friendship.” Trixie let the word fall from her lips like a particularly distasteful bite of food.
“But you...even if your motives are sickeningly pure, at least you're thinking big. You weren't just going to wish for a big pile of apples to keep your little frontier town going for another year. You were going to spit in Celestia’s face and manipulate nature itself!”
“What’s your point?” Braeburn finally asked. He was still too afraid to look up, lest he catch sight of Gilda’s lifeless body in the next room.
“The Great and Powerful Trixie is paying you a compliment, Braeburn. You have more potential than you think, and Trixie is offering you a chance to realize it. Don’t try to tell me you've never wanted to be more than a simple farmer.”
So many thoughts were crashing around in Braeburn’s mind at that moment that it took a few seconds for the implications of Trixie’s words to really reach him. By the time they did, she was already talking again.
“You can have your wish, Braeburn, even if you only want to use it to fix your harvest. But why stop there?”
Braeburn knew he had to stall long enough to collect himself and decide what to do. He didn't think Trixie had used any of the wishes yet. If she had, she would most likely be an alicorn already. But she was holding the stone in the grasp of her magic, and Braeburn doubted he would be able to get it away from her before she could use it to transform herself. He could try to simply buck her in the horn and disrupt her magic, but he would have only one shot, and if he failed, he would end up like Gilda. If he thought it would stop Trixie from using the wishes, he believed he would be able to give his life. But that was unlikely. She would recover, and then his sacrifice would be meaningless.
There was another option, though. One that was floating right there in the room with him. One that Trixie was even offering him.
He could take the wish.
As soon as the thought formed in his mind, his consciousness exploded with images of what might be. He could change the world for the better, shape it to fit the values that had driven him to help found and nurture Appleloosa. Under his benevolent rule, Appleloosa would become a kingdom to rival Canterlot. Villains like Trixie crushed under his hooves, he would rise to rule all of Equestria. Even the princesses of the sun and moon would kneel before his gracious, merciful kingship. The world conquered, he could move on to—
Gasping like a pony just saved from drowning, Braeburn leaped to his feet and backed away from Trixie, who continued to watch him with a wicked smile.
“You thought about it, didn't you?” she said. “You saw what you could have. Isn't it incredible? You can join me, Braeburn.”
Braeburn finally found the strength to look her in the eye. Behind her, past the wild colors spiraling out of the Wishing Stone, he could see Gilda, but he knew he couldn't let that horror deter him. He had to accept it as a symbol of why the choice he was about to make was necessary.
“I did think about it,” he said. “And...I have to save Appleloosa. That’s all.”
Trixie’s smile drooped and she turned away from Braeburn. “Disappointing,” she said. “But not surprising. You’re so convinced of your own goodness.”
“No,” Braeburn said, “I’m not. For all I know, fixin’ Appleloosa’s harvest could be the biggest mistake I've ever made. Maybe it’ll end with the princesses banishin’ me for the rest of my life. Maybe it’ll make the other settlers think that magic can always come in and solve all our problems. I don’t know. But I believe it’s the right thing to do, so it’s what I’m gonna do.”
“Yawn,” Trixie said. “Save the speeches, just make your wish and get out of Trixie’s sight.”
She flung the Wishing Stone toward him as if its nearly limitless power were already beneath her, but as he held up his hooves to catch it, the colors of its light fused into a blinding white that overwhelmed his senses until he couldn't be sure that even he still existed.
***
Whatever test she was to face, Trixie wished it would just start already. Her pacing had long since progressed from nervous to irritated, but she continued walking up and down the length of the chamber, looking for any hint as to what she had to do to get out. She was so deep in thought that, by the time she realized she could no longer hear the clatter of her hooves on the crystal floor, the ground beneath her had entirely changed to grass.
Trixie looked behind her, only to realize that the chamber was gone, replaced by a typical, sleepy little Equestrian village. Looking ahead again, she saw that the hallway that had lay ahead of her just seconds before had also disappeared. It only took a moment for her to recognize her surroundings.
"Ponyville," she sighed. “Of course it would be Ponyville.”
No sooner had she spoken than the chaos started. A string of ponies rushed toward her, yelling and knocking into each other in their haste to get back to the safety of their homes. For a moment, she felt the impulse to follow them, but memories of the temple and the chamber in which she had been trapped quickly came back to her.
"Trixie knows none of this is real!" she shouted at nopony in particular. "This is an illusion! I'm still locked up in the Crystal Mountains!"
Trixie's defiant demeanor changed abruptly when the crowd passed her by, and she realized what had frightened them all so badly. Out of the darkness came a creature she knew far better than she cared to admit: the hulking, translucent blue form of an Ursa Minor.
As if the great celestial bear weren't bad enough on its own, there was a single pony who had stayed behind to hold it off as the others escaped, a lavender-coated unicorn who Trixie immediately recognized, even from behind. At the sight of Twilight Sparkle, Trixie's anger surged forward again.
"This is my test?" she cried. "Reliving the most humiliating night of my life? I have news for you, whoever you are—I'm going to crush this stupid test, because I've been reliving this night over and over ever since it happened!"
The Ursa Minor continued to advance, Twilight Sparkle cautiously backing away from it. Her horn was glowing, but as far as Trixie could tell, she wasn't actually casting any spells. Despite her awareness of the illusory nature of what she was witnessing, Trixie rushed to Twilight's side.
"We'll, what are you waiting for?" She demanded. "Aren't you going to stop this thing?"
"Trixie!" Twilight said, turning to her with a look filled with fear and concern, "I-I know we don't see eye to eye, but you have to help me!"
"Help you?" the unicorn sneered. "What could Trixie possibly do to aid the mighty Twilight Sparkle?"
“I know I've done this before,” Twilight said, ignoring Trixie's sarcasm. Her shoulders slumped, her voice full of disappointment and shame, she added “I just can’t remember how.”
“Then this illusory Ponyville is completely bucked,” Trixie said. “Because we both know that I can’t take down an Ursa Minor.”
“But you saw me do it!” Twilight pleaded. “You just have to tell me what I did, and I know I’ll be able to do it again!”
“Tell you…” Trixie said blankly. “Oh, well...of course. That should be easy. After all, it’s not as if Trixie hasn't spent plenty of time thinking about this...unfortunate incident.”
“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Twilight said with a smile, “but I’m glad to hear that! Now let’s take care of this Ursa Minor before it ransacks Ponyville!”
“Got it,” Trixie said, giving Twilight a nervous smile. “Ok, let’s see, first you...um…milk! You gave it milk!”
“Milk?” Twilight said. “Oh, right! The water tower!”
Energy began to gather around Twilight’s horn, and soon sparks were shooting out as she focused the considerable magic it would take to dismantle the water tower. With the Ursa still lumbering toward them, Twilight quickly pulled the tower apart, dumped the water out of the tank, and floated it toward the Apple family’s barn. Trixie once again marveled at Twilight’s magical ability. Nothing she was doing was particularly intricate on its own, but the fact that she could perform three different tasks at once, and on a relatively large scale was, Trixie had to admit, worthy of admiration.
The makeshift milk bottle came floating out the opposite end of the barn, and Twilight stopped it just in front of the Ursa Minor. Trixie watched in anticipation, though her concern was mostly for whether she had given Twilight the right instructions. Her spirits lifted a bit as the Ursa stopped in its tracks and began to reach for the tank—then, in a cloud of fresh milk and splintered wood, swatted it, along with Trixie's hopes, to the ground.
“That wasn’t it!” Twilight cried, panic creeping into her voice.
“Calm down!” Trixie scolded her. “You’re Twilight Sparkle. If anypony can fix this, it’s you.”
“Right,” Twilight said, trying to shake off the failure. “We can still salvage this, if you can remember what I actually did first.”
“Well,” Trixie said, trying to hold back the inner voice that was attempting to shout her down with a commentary on her own uselessness, “it didn't swat the milk away the first time this happened, so you must have subdued it somehow—probably a binding spell."
“A binding spell," Twilight repeated uncertainly.
“Sure,” Trixie replied. “It must have been.”
Despite her obvious skepticism, Twilight began casting the new spell Trixie had suggested. The Ursa was advancing on them more quickly now, but the illusory Twilight appeared to have enough control over her emotions to complete her spell. At last, soft, translucent ribbons of magical energy began to spread out from her horn, wrapping around the Ursa, gently at first, but soon tightening to the point that the creature realized the unicorns were attempting to capture it. With an angry roar, it struggled against the bonds, rearing up on its hind legs and, with a terrifying burst of strength, shredding the manifestations of Twilight's magic.
"That didn't work, either, Trixie!" Twilight cried. "Please focus! We have to get this right!"
Trixie had heard enough. She rounded on this specter of her adversary, her face twisted in rage and humiliation. "Oh, stop patronizing me, you nag! Here, let me pass this stupid test right now: I admit it, I don't remember what you did to stop the Ursa that night in Ponyville! I was way too busy fearing for my life to pay attention to your impromptu magic demonstration! You completely humiliated me, and I've felt like a worthless foal ever since! All my arrogance is just a way to convince even more pathetic losers like Gilda to follow me, and even then it doesn't work particularly well!"
The illusion had frozen in place around Trixie as she unleashed her diatribe, and only when she had finished did she realize what had happened.
"We'll, that's what you wanted, right? For me to admit that I'm weak and talentless?” Trixie had been yelling up at the sky, as if whoever was testing her would be watching from somewhere above her. She looked back at the ground and lowered her voice as she finished. “Now can I please just get out of this stupid fake Ponyville?"
There was another moment of silence, then a flash of white light that obliterated the illusion. Trixie closed her eyes, letting the magic take her where it would.
***
When Trixie dared to open her eyes again, she was no longer in the chamber where she had been held before. She found herself in a new room now, cut from the same dark stone as the one in which she had fallen through the trap door, but round, and even more dimly lit. A quick look around revealed that there was no apparent path back to the room with the trap doors. She also saw, with a small pang of disappointment, that Gilda and Braeburn were there in the room with her.
"Gilda!" Braeburn cried, apparently having just appeared in the room himself. "You're alive!"
"Of course I'm alive," she said. "How could I have saved your flank back there if I wasn't?"
"Saved my—but you and Trixie were—"
"It was all an illusion, you imbeciles," Trixie interrupted. "Whatever happened to us back there, none of it was real. It was just this wizard's way of testing us to see if we deserved the Wishing Stone."
"And...you passed?" Gilda asked.
"Of course Trixie passed!" the unicorn snapped.
"Y'all," Braeburn said. Trixie shot him an irritated look, but saw that he was pointing toward the center of the room. Following his gesture, she saw a round dais, with a crescent shaped cut-away in the center of which sat a Radiant cut sapphire, slightly smaller than a pony's head, shimmering with the unspeakably powerful magic it contained. It was almost as if the circular room had been crafted just to emphasize the rectangular shape of the gem it had been built to contain.
"The Wishing Stone," Gilda said, breathlessly.
"Or another trap," Braeburn grumbled.
"No," Trixie said, the anger draining from her voice. "It's real. I can feel its power without even casting a detection spell."
"Then let's take it and get this over with," Braeburn said, stepping forward.
"Right," Trixie said. "Gilda, why don’t you do the honors?"
"Trixie," Gilda said, looking confused, "that's not—"
"Not a good idea?" Braeburn interrupted. "I agree! I oughta be the one to take it."
Anger sparked again in Trixie's eyes as she positioned herself between Braeburn and the Wishing Stone. "Trixie doesn't care what you think," she said, tersely but evenly. "I trust Gilda more than I trust you, and I'm the leader here."
"Says who?" Braeburn countered. "I never agreed to that, and I bet Gilda never did, either, did you?"
"Look, let's all just calm down here,” Gilda said. “If Trixie wants me to get the Wishing Stone, I'll get it, then we can all make our wishes and never see each other again."
Braeburn was not ready to concede, though. "Ain't no way I'm dumb enough to let one of you two get to that stone before me!" he said, his voice rising as he turned his attention to Gilda. "We all know I'm the only one here who can be trusted with it!"
"No," Gilda quickly retorted, "we don't all know that! Hay, I've spent more time with Trixie than I have with you, and even if she wants to do some messed up stuff with her wish, I don't think she's gonna try to cheat me out of mine!"
Trixie marveled at the fire in Braebun's eyes as he advanced on Gilda. Her plan was going just as she had hoped. Despite the double cross she had planned with Gilda, she had never intended to give either of her companions one of the stone's three wishes. She knew that changing her plans without telling Gilda first would confuse the griffon and set Braeburn off, sparking an argument that would escalate quickly and distract both of her companions while she took the jewel for herself. However, she had to stay just involved enough not to raise their suspicions, while also stoking the flames of the conflict.
"She's right, Braeburn," Trixie said. "You know the worst about me already. I'm going to use my wish to get magical power Twilight Sparkle can't even dream of. But I'm not going to stop you two from getting what you want. You can have your harvest back, and Gilda—" Trixie eyed the griffon and scrunched up her face like a nicer pony might have when talking to a newborn foal "—can have her wittle fwiend Wainbow Dash back!"
Gilda's face contorted in rage and her talons curled dangerously into a fist. "Why you stupid—"
"Yeah, how could anypony not trust Trixie?" Braeburn sarcastically cut her off.
"You stay out of this, you pampered little golden colt!" the griffon roared.
"Pampered?" Braeburn shouted. "Do you have any idea what I went through to get Appleloosa off the ground, what I went through to get here? Oh, no, of course you don't, because you have your head so far up your own—"
"I'd think really hard before finishing that sentence," Gilda growled, advancing so far into Braeburn's personal space that her beak touched his muzzle.
"Oh yeah? I ain't afraid of you, Gilda. So far I've only seen you take on ponies who couldn't fight their way out of a loose hay bale. I'd like to see what you can do against a—"
Braeburn's sentence was cut short as Gilda's fist flashed out, colliding with his jaw and sending him sprawling on the floor.
"You have no idea how much I've been wanting to do that," Gilda said, catching Trixie off guard with a sly grin. "Now, you asked me to get the stone?"
"O-of course," Trixie stammered. "Be my guest."
This was not how Trixie had expected the argument to play out. She had to give Gilda credit, though. She had expected the griffon to talk a big game, but not be willing to actually attack Braeburn if it should come to that. She had underestimated Gilda's drive to get the Wishing Stone, but fortunately for her, she had one final chance to correct that mistake. As Gilda turned her back on Trixie to grab the artifact, the unicorn's horn began to glow. Gilda lifted the Wishing Stone, whose light pulsed more intensely in response to her touch, off of its stand, and turned back to Trixie.
"And now, if you don't mind," Gilda said, "I'll go ahead and wish my best friend back."
"Go ahead," Trixie said, "you just have to say the words."
With that, she fired off the spell she had prepared. It was the same spell she had used to silence Gilda back in Mother Darkstar's sanctuary on the night they had rescued Braeburn, but this time it was designed to secure Gilda's wings as well as her beak. The magic's glowing band wrapped around the griffon's body, leaving her simultaneously trying to escape and shout what was either her wish, or a string of curses. Trixie advanced on her, and Gilda's eyes widened.
"Magic is a fickle thing," Trixie said. "Spells with a verbal component—like wishing spells—only work if you can clearly state your intentions." She laid a hoof on the stone and smiled at Gilda. "Sorry things didn't work out between you and Rainbow Dash. But thanks for serving as my jewelry stand all the same."
Gilda's mumbling became increasingly frantic as Trixie closed her eyes and let the power of the Wishing Stone wash over her. With a deep breath, she visualized herself as she would soon be, with the wings and extended horn of an alicorn princess. "The Great and Powerful Trixie wishes for—"
But for the second time, the attempted wish was cut short. Trixie found her reverie interrupted as something crashed into her, sending the unicorn, the immobile griffon and the Wishing Stone flying in different directions.
***
No sooner had Braeburn realized that the channeling spell was complete than he saw Trixie starting to buckle before the now open doors of the sanctuary. Instinctively, he lunged forward, catching the unicorn in tandem with Gilda.
"She actually did it," Braeburn said, looking down at the mare with a hint of genuine admiration. "I honestly didn't think she had it in her."
Gilda didn't respond. She was too busy scanning Trixie's face for any sign of consciousness. When a snap of her talons right in the unicorn's ear didn't cause her to flinch, the griffon quickly looked at Braeburn, who was jerked out of his magical hangover by the genuine—and uncharacteristic—concern on her face.
"I don't have much time, so just listen," she said, barely above a whisper. "Trixie's going to double cross you, and I'm going to stop her. I know her plan, so when we get to the stone, just roll with whatever I do."
"Why should I—"
"Just trust me," Gilda snapped. Then, in a much softer tone, she added "Please. We can't let her get that wish."
"What do I do?"
"When I hit you, play dead. You'll know when to get up."
Braeburn started to protest, but a cautious look down at Trixie revealed that she was already starting to come to. He looked back at Gilda, who was now gently massaging Trixie's neck in an attempt to rouse her. For a moment, he wondered whether the offer she had just made was real, or if he was still just feeling the after-effects of the channeling. Either way, he decided he had to take his chances, and go along with whatever plan Gilda had cooked up.
***
Braeburn dared not look back to see whether his attack on Trixie had broken the spell she had cast on Gilda. All he knew was that it had knocked the Wishing Stone free from Gilda's talons, and he was the only one still on his hooves to claim it. Galloping toward the gem, he grabbed it and skidded to a stop. Trixie was getting to her hooves, and he knew that he had only a second to act. When Gilda's punch had scarcely hurt him, let alone knocked him unconscious, he had realized that she had been serious when she confided in him about her plan before they entered the sanctuary. That meant she had put all of her trust in him. He couldn't betray that, even though what he had decided to do filled him with dread.
"I wish Trixie was trapped in here!"
No sooner had the last word left his lips than the floor around Trixie's hooves began to shake and morph into a different form. Stone pillars a foot thick shot up in a circle around the unicorn, reaching all the way to the ceiling. From within the prison he had just wished for, Braeburn could hear Trixie screaming, cursing him and Gilda with a specificity and vulgarity he had never heard before. Her cries were so bitter, so anguished and hateful that they almost distracted him from the fact that he had just used his wish on something other than fixing Appleloosa's harvest.
From her spot on the floor, Gilda continued to struggle against the magical bonds. As the sound of Trixie's curses was replaced by the sound of her futilely trying to blast her way out of her stone cage, the restraints disappeared. Gilda scrambled to an upright position and rushed to Braeburn’s side.
"You did it, Braeburn!" She shouted. "I knew I could trust you!"
"Thanks," the Earth pony said, looking forlornly at the still-glowing gem in his hooves. "I reckon you woulda earned Rainbow Dash's friendship back if she had seen what you did today. So," he held out the gem to Gilda, "go ahead. Make your wish."
"Can we go outside first?" Gilda said, gesturing at the circle of pillars from which Trixie's magic blasts were now alternating with her screams and curses. "It's getting a little hard to think in here."
"Sure," Braeburn said, "if we can figure a way out."
As if responding to his statement, a pair of doors similar to those through which they had first entered the temple began to slowly swing open on the opposite side of the room. With just a nod between them, Gilda and Braeburn crossed over to them, both casting a cautious glance at Trixie’s prison as they passed it by. The cold wind and dusting of snow that blew in through the doors served as a stark reminder that they were still in the highest reaches of the Crystal mountains and far from safety, but at least for Braeburn, even the harsh mountain climate was a welcome change from the magical trickery of the Wishing Stone’s sanctuary.
“Thanks,” Gilda said, as soon as the doors had closed behind them. “For what you just did, I mean. You didn't have any reason to trust me, but you still did.”
“I had to take the chance,” Braeburn said. “I’m just glad one of us had a plan to stop Trixie from...well, I’d rather not think anymore about what she planned to do. But anyhow, you still have a wish coming.” Once again, Braeburn offered the stone to Gilda, and this time she accepted it.
“How’s this gonna work, anyway?” Gilda asked. “I mean, Trixie might be a little unhinged, but...we can’t just leave her trapped here.”
“No, we can’t,” Braeburn agreed. “So after you use your wish, I’m gonna use the last one to free her.”
“But that leaves Appleloosa without—”
“Don’t worry about that,” Braeburn said. “Ain’t your problem.”
“Maybe not,” Gilda said. “But either way, I guess it’s a good thing I’m the one holding the Wishing Stone right now.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Braeburn asked.
“It means...I wish for Appleloosa’s harvest to be restored.”
Once again, magical light began to pulse within the gemstone, and Braeburn had no doubt as the power rushed through him that Gilda’s wish had been granted, even if its effects were being manifested hundreds of miles away.
“What are you doin’?” Braeburn asked. “You came all this way to get Rainbow Dash’s friendship back, and—”
“Yeah, well you came all this way to fix Appleloosa’s harvest. One of us had to not be a total dweeb about this. And anyway, now if Princess Celestia gets her bridle in a twist about someone messing with the laws of nature, it’ll be me and not you.”
“Gilda, you didn’t have to…”
“It’s like you said back there, Braeburn,” Gilda said, handing the Wishing Stone back to him with a smile. “If Rainbow Dash knew what I’d done here, she'd probably take me back as a friend. So why waste a wish on it, when I can just go back to Ponyville and show her that I've changed?”
Braeburn tried to hide the tears of joy that were forming at the corners of his eyes, but soon the hot rivulets running down his cheeks told him he had failed.
“So,” he sniffed, “what do we do with Trixie?”
“Well,” Gilda said, “we can’t leave her locked up in there. But we’re not gonna have a particularly easy trip back down the mountain with a crazy unicorn chasing after us.”
“So we wish her somewhere else?”
“Somewhere far away from here,” Gilda agreed.
“I think I have an idea,” Braeburn said.
“Let’s do it, then,” Gilda said. “The sooner we get out of these stupid mountains, the happier I’ll be.”
Braeburn closed his eyes, and for the second time that day, called upon the Wishing Stone’s power. Once again, he felt its incredible power coursing through him, and this time thought he even caught some hint of how its magic altered the foundation of reality. Its power exhausted, the gem began to vibrate, and Braeburn opened his eyes just in time to see the priceless sapphire turn to dust in his hooves.
“Well, there go my dreams of retirement,” Gilda said.
“Easy come, easy go, I guess,” Braeburn said as he watched the dust begin to scatter in the wind. “Now let’s get out of here. We still got a long trip ahead of us.”