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Applied Mathemagics

Reader mode
This seems a bit too depressing for me, and weird, and creepy. I'm gonna need to opt out unfortunately, despite loving the idea of fun magic.
 
Is there going to be extra content in here that FIMfiction won't have?
 
Read like the first 12 or so chapters and the MC is so unlikable and the story so randomly inconsistent on small matters (story makes a big deal about how ponies love haggling and yet they never try to haggle with the MC out of cultural inertia alone?) with double standards like that its unpleasant. Not technically bad by all means but not pleasant either.
 
Riddlest said:
may continue, am writing a Justice League fanfic, Dumpstat Healer, rn
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Not gonna lie, I enjoy this fic of yours much more than Dumpstat Healer as the wonder woman fem-dom made me feel very uncomfortable just reading it, but both are still very good. I'll continue to read both whenever u update. Thank you for your work!
 
Its a shame more chapters aren't uploaded here, I just read the Grand Galloping Gala chapter and its really fucking funny.
 
PatUrgotten said:
Its a shame more chapters aren't uploaded here, I just read the Grand Galloping Gala chapter and its really fucking funny.
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I have to manually add spaces where i italicized stuff, fimfiction has different formatting i guess. takes a long time to translate, would rather direct people to fimfiction and keep writing new stuff.
 
Riddlest said:
What the ponies look like (roughly):

Disturbing Sweetie Belle
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Jesus fucking christ, I'd nope the fuck outta there too
 
wow... is there more? this is way better than the reverse would; and I binge it in a single night!!!!! it is currently 3:20 am in my time-zone... worth it!
 
Today We Cause Problems On Purpose New
  • Threadmarks
    • Morning comes too soon. The soft glow of the floating orbs in my room dims as I roll over, staring at the blank white "window" on my wall. It never shows the outside world, just an endless glow that never wavers, never changes. Honestly, it's the most reliable thing in my life.

    I groan, sitting up and stretching until my back cracks. Today's the big day—Sweetie Belle's talent show. I should be excited, but I can already feel the weight of everything hanging over me. Rarity's strange behavior, Twilight's scheming, Celestia's ever-watchful gaze, it's a lot to juggle for one stallion.

    Still, Sweetie Belle would be heartbroken if I bailed, and I'm not a monster. A liar, sure. A con artist? Absolutely. But not a monster. Most days.

    I sigh, forcing myself out of bed. At least I don't have to worry about an empty pantry anymore—Twilight made sure of that. My house is now suspiciously well-stocked, like she's trying to domesticate a wild animal. Which, given how she looks at me sometimes, is probably accurate.

    I throw together a quick breakfast that isn't just hay out of sheer defiance, wash up, and step outside. The town is already buzzing with activity. Ponies are setting up decorations, foals are running around in excited chaos, and in the center of it all stands the talent show stage—a rickety wooden platform that looks like it was hammered together by enthusiastic, but under-skilled, hooves.

    I'm halfway to the stage when I hear a frantic voice.

    "Kinetic! Kinetic! We need help!"

    Sweetie Belle barrels toward me, her tiny legs moving faster than I thought possible. Apple Bloom and Scootaloo are right behind her, all three looking equally panicked.

    "What did you three do?" I ask, because I know that look. That's the we did something really ambitious and now it's a disaster look.

    Sweetie Belle skids to a stop in front of me, her hooves kicking up dust. "It's the runes! The ones you told us about!"

    My brain slams the brakes. "...The what now?"

    Apple Bloom bounces on her hooves, talking a mile a minute. "The rune magic! You said non-unicorns use symbols for spells, so we thought if we used 'em, we could make our red cart float for the talent show!"

    Scootaloo spreads her wings, beaming with pride. "It's gonna be awesome! A floating stunt cart! We spent hours drawing the runes just like you said!"

    I stare at them. My brain scrambles. I told them about runes? Oh. Oh, no. I did do that.

    It was supposed to be a distraction! They had been pestering me about learning magic, and I figured rune theory would bore them into submission. Turns out, I vastly underestimated the Cutie Mark Crusaders' determination to cause problems.

    Sweetie Belle tugs at my leg. "But it's not working! The cart isn't floating, and the runes look... weird."

    I glance toward the stage and spot their little red cart parked off to the side. Sure enough, the wood is covered in chalked-in symbols—an absolute mess of lines, spirals, and glyphs, all blending together in what I can only describe as a crime against symmetry.

    Oh. This is bad.

    "Okay," I say, adjusting my nonexistent wizard hat. "Let's take a look. Show me the book and what you've got."

    I have no idea how to fix this. But I sure as hell have to act like I do.

    Sweetie Belle floats a book up to me, her magic shimmering with that soft, pale green hue. I take it, flipping to the page where they got their rune pattern.

    And, wow, this is awful.

    The diagram in the book is absurdly complicated—dense interwoven shapes, tiny precise angles, and ridiculous spacing requirements. No wonder their chalk version looks like a disaster. If my guesstimates are correct, even if they copied it perfectly, a hoof drawing just isn't precise enough to handle something like this. And precision is probably important when it comes to rune magic.

    I nod sagely, pretending to study it while my brain frantically scrambles for a way out. I know nothing about rune magic. But I do know physics, and I do know how Sweetie Belle thinks.

    I tap the page. "Alright, here's the issue. The runes aren't being drawn clearly enough. This kind of magic needs perfect precision—as clearly as you can see it in your mind, that's how clearly it needs to be on the material." I say, making a lot of assumptions.

    Apple Bloom frowns. "But we copied it exactly!"

    Scootaloo squints at the mess on the cart. "...More or less."

    I shake my head. "Nah, a hoof drawing's not gonna cut it. Too smudgy, too loose. You need something way sharper, way more exact." I pause, exhaling through my nose. "Which means… we're going to have to carve it in."

    Sweetie Belle blinks. "But how? I don't have a knife!"

    I smirk. "Sweetie, you don't need a knife. You've got something way better—telekinesis."

    Her ears perk up. "Wait… but how am I supposed to use that to carve something?"

    I sigh, rubbing the bridge of my muzzle. I really, really don't want to teach her this. But at this point, I have no choice. Well, I do, but I don't want to learn rune magic to teach it to her so...

    "Alright, listen up," I say, crouching to her level. "You remember when I taught you about atoms, right? That everything's made up of teeny-tiny particles?"

    She nods rapidly. "Yeah! And they stick together because of those… uh… forces?"

    "Exactly," I say, snapping a hoof in approval. "Those forces are what hold solid objects together. But what if we temporarily weakened those forces in a very, very specific spot?"

    Her eyes widen. "Then… I could move those atoms apart!"

    "Bingo," I say, pointing at her. "And if you do it in the shape of the rune, you're not drawing it—you're imprinting it directly into the material. No chalk, no smudging. Just pure, flawless perfection."

    She gasps. "That's so cool! I wanna try!"

    The other two, however, don't look so thrilled.

    Scootaloo scowls. "Great. So the unicorn gets to be the only one who's good at non-unicorn magic."

    Apple Bloom crosses her hooves. "Ain't this kinda against the whole 'earth ponies and pegasi can do magic too' thing?"

    I shrug. "Hey, don't blame me. Blame reality. Some stuff's just easier with certain tools. I mean, you wouldn't complain if a pegasus used their wings instead of their hooves to do something fancy, right?"

    Apple Bloom opens her mouth, then shuts it. Scootaloo just grumbles.

    I turn back to Sweetie Belle, tapping the cart for emphasis. "Alright, so here's how this works. The reason solid objects stay together is because of a bunch of forces at the atomic level. The main one keeping everything in place is called intergranular force. That's just a fancy way of saying that atoms in a solid stick together because of their grain structure, like how puzzle pieces fit together."

    Sweetie nods quickly. "Right! Like how the wood is made up of tiny bits that are all holding onto each other!"

    "Exactly. But that's not the only thing keeping it solid. You've also got van der Waals forces, which are weaker interactions between molecules, and electrostatic attraction, which is how negatively charged electrons keep atoms bound to positively charged nuclei. That's what gives a material its shape and structure. You mess with those? You can separate things down to their finest layers."

    Her eyes light up. "So I have to push apart the atoms just a tiny bit to carve it?"

    "More like slip them apart," I correct. "If you just force them, the whole structure might fracture. But if you focus your magic on reducing the intergranular cohesion just in the exact shape of the rune, the material will part as cleanly as if you cut it with a razor."

    She closes her eyes, horn sparking as she concentrates. I step back, mostly so I don't get blamed if this goes wrong.

    At first, nothing happens. Then, slowly, the chaotic chalk mess on the cart starts to vanish, replaced by thin, delicate carvings that sink into the wood like something was peeling it away, layer by layer. Every swirl, every line, every intricate detail from the book takes shape exactly as intended.

    I blink.

    Huh. That actually worked.

    Sweetie Belle gasps, opening her eyes. "I did it!"

    Apple Bloom and Scootaloo peer at the runes, both impressed and vaguely annoyed.

    Scootaloo sighs. "Great. Now Sweetie gets magic, and non-magic."

    Apple Bloom rubs her chin. "Ah mean, at least it's our idea? So it's still kinda our thing?"

    I clap my hooves together. "Fantastic work, girls. Now, let's—"

    "Cutie Mark Crusaders, you're up next!" a voice calls from the stage.

    All three of them freeze.

    Sweetie Belle panics. "Oh no! We don't even know if it works!"

    I sigh. "Well, you're about to find out."

    I make a swift, tactical retreat to my seat, settling in among the other ponies as the Crusaders rush onto the stage with their cart. The audience murmurs in curiosity, clearly unsure what to expect.

    On stage, Apple Bloom steps forward, puffing out her chest with confidence. "Fillies and gentlecolts, get ready to witness the future of travel! The Cutie Mark Crusaders present to you…" She gestures dramatically to the cart. "The first-ever self-propelled, rune-powered, flying stunt cart!"

    Scootaloo spreads her wings. "With our revolutionary new magical system, this cart will take flight, soaring through the air with complete control!"

    Sweetie Belle beams. "And it's all thanks to advanced rune magic!"

    I resist the urge to put my head in my hooves. The audience gasps in amazement, but I can already feel Twilight's skeptical gaze boring into my skull from across the seats.

    Oh yeah, she's definitely adding this to the 'Kinetic Flux is hiding something' file.

    Rarity looks somewhat impressed—though mostly concerned—as she watches Sweetie take center stage. Meanwhile, Rainbow Dash looks way too interested in a possible new extreme sport.

    Apple Bloom gestures for Sweetie Belle to take her place in the cart. "And now, we'll show ya how it works!"

    The three of them clamber inside, and Sweetie Belle's horn lights up. The rune carvings glow with a soft, eerie shimmer, spreading from one symbol to the next.

    The crowd collectively leans forward.

    The cart lifts.

    Ponies gasp.

    The Crusaders cheer.

    Oh, good, it actually works, I think, allowing myself to breathe.

    Then it keeps going.

    And going.

    And going.

    My relief morphs into a sharp, cold realization. Oh, no. Oh, no no no no no.

    The Crusaders' excited expressions begin to shift into something more nervous as the cart rises past the roof of the stage.

    Scootaloo glances down. "Uh… Sweetie?"

    Sweetie Belle's smile tightens. "I-I think it's working a little too well."

    The cart drifts higher.

    Apple Bloom tugs on the sides. "Maybe turn it down?"

    Sweetie Belle's horn flickers. "I don't know how to turn it down!"

    By now, the audience is craning their necks to follow the ascending cart. Pegasi in the crowd start spreading their wings, muttering to each other.

    I sink lower in my seat.

    I really should have asked what those runes actually did.

    Rainbow Dash is the first to react, shooting into the air. "I got 'em!" She speeds toward the cart, reaching out to grab it—

    And then gets yanked upward as the cart keeps going.

    A second pegasus grabs onto Rainbow.

    A third grabs onto them.

    Now there's a full-blown chain of pegasi getting pulled into the sky like some kind of bizarre balloon accident.

    I close my eyes, exhale sharply, and mumble under my breath. "I am not responsible for this. I am not responsible for this. I am not—"

    Twilight is already flipping through her spellbook at an alarming speed.

    Rarity looks one second away from fainting.

    Ponies in the audience are starting to panic.

    I should probably do something.

    …Or I could just keep sitting here and pretend this is all part of the show.

    I glance back up at the cart, which is now well past the treetops.

    Yeah. No. Definitely need to do something.

    I get up with a sigh. "Alright. Let's fix this before they reach orbit."

    I take a deep breath and settle back into my seat, trying to look very casual as I watch the chaos unfold. The Crusaders are way too high now, and the pegasi chain is struggling to pull them back down. If I don't do something, we're about to have Ponyville's first unplanned space program.

    I could try to play it off, wait for Twilight to do some fancy spellwork, but that would take time, and I have no idea how much higher they're going to go. No, I need to end this now—and I need to do it without making it obvious.

    I can't see the rune itself anymore, but I do know exactly where it is.

    I focus, feeling out the cart's shape in my mind. The rune should be carved right into the wood beneath them, somewhere on the bottom panel. I don't need to destroy the whole thing—just enough to break the pattern. A small cut, right through the base.

    I let my magic reach out, thin and controlled. The same technique I taught Sweetie Belle, applied from a distance. Instead of forcing the cut, I nudge the atoms apart, slipping them out of alignment in a precise, almost surgical motion.

    The wood gives way.

    A tiny hole, no bigger than a bit, opens in the bottom of the cart.

    And just like that, the rune's pattern is broken.

    The glow flickers out in an instant.

    The cart stops.

    Gravity remembers it exists.

    A split second later, the pegasi yank it down.

    Rainbow Dash and the others struggle to keep it level as they guide it back to the stage. The Crusaders, still gripping the sides for dear life, look thoroughly shaken but otherwise unharmed.

    The audience erupts into wild applause, cheering at what they clearly think was part of the act.

    I release a breath I didn't realize I was holding and slump back into my seat, making sure to keep my expression neutral.

    The Crusaders step out of the cart, still wobbling but beaming at the applause.

    I just shake my head.

    I really need to start asking more questions before I help them next time.

    Once the excitement dies down and everypony stops talking about the "incredible aerial performance" that nearly sent three fillies into low orbit, I find myself sitting in my seat, bored out of my mind. The talent show continues, but let's be real—after a flying stunt cart, a filly juggling torches just doesn't have the same energy. The show ends and the ponies start to disperse.

    I glance around for anything interesting. Nothing.

    I could go home, but then I'd still have to find something to do. There's no internet here, so its rather boring to stay inside.

    Or…

    A slow grin spreads across my face.

    I could mess with Twilight.

    Yeah. That sounds way more fun.

    With my new objective set, I stand, stretch lazily, and start making my way toward Golden Oak Library. Ponies are still caught up in the aftermath of the talent show, so no one really notices me slipping away. Twilight probably hasn't left yet, but that just makes it better—walking into her space when she's not there, touching her things? That's an instant way to get a reaction.

    I push open the library door without knocking—because why would I knock? It's a library. She'd argue otherwise, but public buildings are public buildings.

    Inside, it's quiet. Peaceful. The shelves are packed with books, everything neat and organized, just how she likes it.

    I hate it.

    Not because I have anything against books—knowledge is power, after all—but because it's too orderly. I can already picture Twilight's little checklists, her meticulously categorized sorting system, the way she probably has a list of books organized by how often they're borrowed. A far cry from the original honor system. I still haven't returned The Fundamentals of Unicorn Magic or Practical Spells for Beginners.

    I grin. Time to introduce an element of 'fun' to the sorting.

    I casually walk over to the nearest shelf, pick a random book, and slide it one slot over.

    Then I take another and put it back upside down.

    Then I find a third, flip to a random page, and dog-ear it.

    I'm barely two minutes into this masterpiece of subtle destruction when I hear the door creak open behind me.

    I don't even turn around before she speaks.

    "Kinetic," Twilight says, voice already full of exasperation. "What are you doing?"

    I plaster on my most innocent expression and turn to face her. "Oh, hey, Twilight. Just catching up on some reading."

    Her eyes narrow immediately. "You never come here to read."

    I gasp, placing a hoof on my chest like she just insulted my very soul. "That hurts, Twilight. I am deeply offended by that accusation."

    She marches past me and immediately spots the upside-down book. Her eye twitches.

    My grin widens.

    "You—" she growls, yanking it off the shelf. "You did this on purpose!"

    "Twilight, please," I say, shaking my head. "You can't just go around accusing ponies without evidence."

    She points to the shelf. "This book is upside down!"

    "Maybe it likes being upside down."

    "And this one is in the wrong spot!"

    It's honestly surprising how she finds each change so quickly.

    "Maybe it was tired of being next to the same books all the time."

    "And this one has a folded page—" She stops mid-sentence, sucking in a sharp breath like I just personally attacked her.

    I lean in slightly. "You okay there, Sparkle?"

    She takes a deep breath, eyes closed, visibly trying to center herself. When she finally speaks, it's slow and measured. "Why are you actually here?"

    I shrug, leaning against a shelf like I own the place. "Just visiting my favorite purple unicorn."

    Twilight stares at me, deadpan. "You are definitely just here to mess with me."

    I grin. "Can't it be both?"

    She groans, rubbing her temples. "You don't live here, Kinetic. You can't just barge in whenever you feel like it."

    I tilt my head. "Oh? So you can just waltz into my house, tell me how to eat, make me buy things, and criticize my perfectly functional lifestyle, but when I show up uninvited, it's a problem?"

    She sputters. "That—That's different!"

    "Not really."

    "It is absolutely different!"

    "How?"

    "Because—because I was helping you!" she snaps, pointing a hoof at me. "You would starve if I didn't intervene!"

    I wave a hoof dismissively. "Details, details."

    She glares at me, eyes twitching, clearly debating if I'm worth the headache. Of course, the answer is always yes.

    Before she can lecture me further, the library door swings open again, and three energetic fillies tumble inside.

    "Twilight!" Sweetie Belle shouts. "We wanna hear how you got your cutie mark!"

    Apple Bloom bounces up beside her. "Yeah! Ya got it from magic, right? Did ya make somethin' explode?"

    Scootaloo's wings buzz. "Was it a huge explosion? Please tell me it was!"

    Twilight immediately shifts gears, her face brightening as she steps into teacher mode. "Oh! Well, actually, it's a pretty interesting story—"

    I see my chance. As she tells her story I take a step back, then another, inching toward the door before anyone notices.

    Sweetie Belle whirls around. "Wait! What about you, Kinetic? How'd you get your cutie mark?"

    I freeze.

    Twilight smirks. "Yes, Kinetic, why don't you tell us how you got your cutie mark?"

    I turn slowly. "Y'know, I'd love to, but I just remembered—uh, I left my stove on. In my—uh—H.A.R.D.I.S. Which I should definitely check on. So, you all have fun—"

    I take another step toward the door.

    Twilight's horn glows.

    I feel my tail get yanked.

    I flail dramatically, dragged back into place. "This is assault, Sparkle."

    She rolls her eyes. "You are not getting out of this. Sit down and tell the girls your cutie mark story."

    I groan but comply, mostly because she still has a magical grip on my tail, and I'd rather keep it attached to my body.

    The Cutie Mark Crusaders sit eagerly in front of me, eyes wide and full of expectation. Twilight watches with her usual mix of amusement and suspicion. Sweetie Belle, though—she is the problem. She knows too much. I'm going to have to be careful.

    I clear my throat. "Alright, fine. It all started when I was just a colt, attending my entrance exam for Celestia's School for Gifted Unicorns."

    Twilight's expression shifts from smug satisfaction to confusion. "That's—"

    "—where I was asked to hatch a dragon egg," I continue smoothly, watching her eyes narrow. "I focused my magic, but nothing happened at first! And then—BOOM! A huge explosion of magic burst out of me, and suddenly I was floating, my eyes glowing, books flying everywhere—"

    Twilight scowls. "That's my cutie mark story."

    I gasp, placing a hoof on my chest. "It is? Oh no! What a crazy coincidence!"

    She levels a glare at me, deadpan. "Tell. The real. Story."

    I sigh, dramatically throwing myself onto the floor like this is the greatest injustice of my life. "Fine, fine, I guess I'll tell you the real story."

    I sit back up, clearing my throat again. "So there I was, deep in the jungles of Equestria, searching for the lost Tome of Eternal Arcana."

    Scootaloo leans forward. "That sounds way cooler."

    Twilight groans. "Oh, come on."

    I ignore her. "I had been traveling for days, my supplies running low. The path was treacherous, filled with traps and puzzles designed to keep unworthy seekers away. But I wasn't just any unicorn—I was determined. And as I reached the final chamber, I saw it—a pedestal holding the tome, surrounded by enchanted flames!"

    Apple Bloom gasps. "Then what happened?"

    I smirk. "I stepped forward, ready to claim my prize—but then the floor crumbled beneath me! I fell into an underground cavern, where I was met with a mystical guardian, a creature of pure magic, protecting the knowledge of ages."

    Twilight rubs her temples. "None of this happened."

    "It challenged me to a duel," I say, ignoring her entirely. "Not with magic, but with wits. It posed a series of riddles, each more difficult than the last. I had to think fast, using my knowledge of ancient magic and powerful spells to outsmart it."

    Sweetie Belle frowns. "But—"

    I panic. Before she can say anything, I casually place a hoof over her mouth. "Sweetie, please, I'm telling a story. Anyway, after answering the final riddle, the guardian granted me access to the tome. The moment I opened it, power surged through me! The secrets of the universe flooded my mind! And at that exact moment—" I dramatically gesture at my flank. "Boom. Cutie mark."

    Scootaloo's wings buzz excitedly. "That is so much better than a boring school exam!"

    Apple Bloom nods. "Ah bet that means yer special talent is ancient magic!"

    "Exactly," I say quickly. "Super rare, super mysterious magic. Definitely not anything else. Nope."

    Sweetie Belle finally pries my hoof off her mouth. "But I thought—"

    "Shhh, I know it was an intense story, and you're overcome with emotion, there's no need to speak. I understand," I say convincingly.

    Twilight squints at me, eyes full of suspicion. "That is the least believable story I've ever heard."

    I gasp. "Twilight! You wound me."

    "You did not get your cutie mark by battling a guardian of pure magic."

    "You don't know that."

    "Yes, I do."

    The Crusaders, however, seem less concerned about truth and more about the sheer cool factor of the story.

    Scootaloo nudges Apple Bloom. "Do you think we can find a guardian of magic and challenge it to a duel?"

    Twilight immediately shakes her head. "Absolutely not."

    Apple Bloom sighs. "Aww."

    I stand up, stretching. "Well, this has been fun, but I think that's enough fairy—er, recalling for one day."

    Twilight huffs. "I will find out the truth eventually, you know."

    I grin, already backing toward the door. "Sure, Twilight. Good luck with that."

    I make a smooth exit before she can grab my tail again. Sweetie Belle is still staring at me like she wants to say something, but thankfully, she's too polite to blurt it out in front of Twilight.

    I'll have to deal with that later.

    For now, though? Mission accomplished.

    I hum to myself as I trot back toward the H.A.R.D.I.S., feeling pretty satisfied with how today turned out. Sure, the Cutie Mark Crusaders nearly achieved low orbit, Twilight almost caught me in a lie, and Sweetie Belle is one awkward conversation away from blowing my cover—but overall? A solid day.

    As I reach my door, I spot the little mailbox in front of my house. I never really check it since most ponies in Ponyville deliver messages in person, but every now and then, something official comes through.

    I pull out the envelope and immediately notice the royal wax seal.

    My ears perk up. This is it.

    I rip it open, and the first thing that falls out is a crisp, gold-trimmed Letter of Credit—1000 bits, straight from the crown. My grin stretches from ear to ear.

    "Finally!" I shout, punching the air.

    I've been waiting for this forever. Ever since Celestia gave me the title of Archmage, there had been a lot of talk about getting proper benefits—an official stipend, access to research materials, and, most importantly, money.

    And here it is. 1000 bits. Enough to actually buy things without Twilight dragging me around like a lost foal.

    I dig into the envelope again and pull out something small and metallic. It glints in the light—a badge, etched with the royal sun emblem and the words Archmage of Equestria.

    I flip it over, and there's my name, engraved in fancy script.

    It's official.

    I actually have ID now.

    No more "Sir, you need proper documentation," or "Are you sure you're an Archmage?" or "We can't verify your identity, we need confirmation from the Princess."

    I hold it up, marveling at it. This little piece of metal is the key to so many future scams—I mean, legitimate professional opportunities.

    I shove both the badge and the Letter of Credit into my saddlebags, resisting the urge to do a victory dance.

    I step inside my H.A.R.D.I.S., close the door, and lean against it, sighing in pure contentment.

    1000 bits. A royal stipend. Official ID.

    Everything is finally coming together.

    I toss myself onto my bed, staring at the ceiling, still grinning like an idiot.

    For once, everything is going right.

    With that thought, I drift off to sleep.

    Morning comes too fast, but for once, I wake up in a good mood.

    Not because I'm well-rested—Celestia forbid—but because today's the Grand Galloping Gala.

    A night of fancy ponies, absurd wealth, and absolutely no expectations that I'll behave.

    I stretch, rolling out of bed, and throw on my trusty, questionably tailored suit. It's not great—Twilight made me buy it during her "Let's make Kinetic a proper pony" intervention—but it does the job. It's dark, slightly wrinkled, and technically fits, which is all I care about.

    I grab my saddlebags, making sure my very real Archmage ID is safely tucked inside, then step outside.

    I'm halfway to the train station when I stop and actually look at the train.

    It's sleek, polished, and—okay, this thing is definitely not coal-powered.

    But it should be. The design is throwing me off—there are no visible exhaust vents, no proper firebox, and the wheels are weirdly proportioned. It's like someone wanted it to look like a steam engine but skipped the actual engineering part.

    I squint at it, running through mental calculations, and conclude that I have no idea how this thing works.

    It bothers me.

    A lot.

    But not enough to actually ask.

    I walk up to the ticket booth and slap down some bits, still reveling in my financial security.

    "One ticket to Canterlot," I say with a smug grin, because for once, I can actually afford things.

    The mare behind the counter gives me a look before sliding the ticket over.

    I step onto the platform just as the rest of the girls arrive. They all have dresses on.

    Rarity, of course, is immaculate, dressed in something probably hoof-stitched with imported silk. Twilight is trying way too hard to keep herself composed. Applejack's carrying a cartload of apple goods, looking like she's about to start a street stall inside the castle. Fluttershy is practically vibrating with excitement, and Pinkie is… well, Pinkie.

    Rainbow Dash flutters above them, already bragging about Wonderbolt connections she absolutely does not have.

    I nod at them, casually stepping onto the train like I do this every day. "Ladies."

    Twilight sighs. "Please try to behave tonight, Kinetic."

    I smirk. "Oh, I absolutely will try."

    She groans, already regretting everything.

    The train whistle blows, and I find a seat near the window, watching as the station drifts away.

    Canterlot, here we come.

    This is going to be fun.

    I settle into my seat, propping my head against the window as the train glides smoothly along the tracks. The scenery outside blurs past—rolling hills, thick forests, the occasional farm. It's nice, peaceful.

    And for once, I do absolutely nothing.

    I don't poke Twilight about her obsessive note-taking. I don't make sarcastic comments about the Gala. I don't even nudge Rarity about whatever ridiculous expectations she has for the night.

    I just sit there. Silent. Minding my own business.

    The reaction is immediate.

    Twilight, seated across from me, flips through a book, but every so often, she glances up, her ears twitching. At first, it's just casual curiosity.

    Then she glances again.

    And again.

    She shifts in her seat, turning the page of her book way too fast to have actually read anything. Her quill—because of course she brought a quill and parchment—hovers in her magic, completely untouched.

    I keep my face neutral, gazing out the window like I'm not enjoying this immensely.

    Finally, after what must be unbearable silence on her end, she clears her throat. "Kinetic."

    I glance at her lazily. "Yeah?"

    Her eyes narrow slightly. "You're being… quiet."

    I nod. "Yep."

    More twitching. "You never just sit quietly."

    "Guess I do now."

    She blinks, her mouth opening slightly before she shuts it again. I can see the gears turning.

    The others aren't paying much attention—Applejack and Rarity are deep in conversation about something, Pinkie's rambling to Fluttershy about cake, and Rainbow is off in her own world—but Twilight? Twilight is spiraling.

    She forces a chuckle, flipping a page in her book with fake casualness. "Well, it's nice. A bit… unexpected, but nice."

    I nod. "Good to hear."

    Her ears twitch again.

    She waits. Five seconds. Ten.

    I don't say anything.

    Now she's really squirming.

    She frowns, setting her book down. "Okay, seriously, what's going on?"

    I raise a brow. "What do you mean?"

    "You're not annoying me," she blurts out.

    Rarity, who had been mid-sentence with Applejack, pauses and glances over with interest.

    Twilight keeps going. "You always have some kind of comment, or you mess with my books, or you—something! But you're just… sitting there!"

    I shrug. "Didn't feel like it."

    She stares. "Didn't… feel like it?"

    "Yeah." I stretch my hooves out, leaning back against the seat. "Figured I'd just sit and enjoy the ride."

    She blinks rapidly, clearly not buying it. "But—but you always mess with me!"

    "Sounds like you should be having a good time then, Twilight."

    Rarity is very obviously trying to hide her amusement behind a polite sip of tea.

    Twilight, however, is not amused.

    "Did I do something?" she suddenly asks.

    I tilt my head. "What?"

    "Did I do something?" She gestures vaguely. "Are you mad at me? Is that why you're not—" She cuts herself off, flustered.

    I stare at her for a second. Then I grin. "Twilight, are you saying you miss my usual antics?"

    She stiffens. "No! Absolutely not!"

    I raise a brow. "Sure sounds like you do."

    "I don't!" she says, a little too quickly.

    Rarity, who has been following this whole thing like it's the most interesting thing she's ever seen, finally interjects. "Darling, you do seem rather… concerned about Kinetic's behavior."

    Twilight sputters. "I—I'm not concerned! I'm just—curious!"

    Rarity suddenly perks up, eyes gleaming with opportunity.

    "Well, Twilight," she says smoothly, setting her teacup down with a delicate clink, "if Kinetic is no longer entertaining you, perhaps he simply needs better company."

    I immediately sense danger.

    Twilight just squints. "What's that supposed to mean?"

    Rarity brushes a hoof through her perfectly curled mane and shifts a little closer to me. Not too close, but enough that I notice. Enough that Twilight notices.

    "Oh, nothing, darling," she says in that overly sweet tone that makes my internal alarms blare. "I simply understand if Kinetic wishes to engage in more… refined company. After all, some of us appreciate the finer things in life. Intelligent conversation. Elegance. Charm."

    I stare at her blankly.

    Twilight snorts. "Charm? Kinetic?"

    I wave a hoof. "Hey, I am very charming."

    Twilight raises a brow. "You stuck a book in the freezer just to see how I'd react."

    "Oh, you caught that one too huh?" I say, mildly impressed.

    Rarity hums. "A playful charm, then. Why, I find it quite endearing."

    I need to leave. Immediately.

    I glance toward the train station, then at Rarity, then back to the train.

    "Wow, would you look at the time!" I announce loudly, taking a step back. "I just remembered—I've always wanted to see how the train works! Super important Archmage stuff, you wouldn't understand. See you later!"

    Before Rarity or Twilight can react, I turn and bolt toward the front of the train.

    I hear Twilight calling after me. "Kinetic, you don't care how the train works!"

    "Sure I do!" I yell over my shoulder, not slowing down.

    I weave through the departing passengers, making a beeline for the locomotive. The engineers and staff are wrapping up their post-trip checks, and I spot the conductor standing near the controls.

    Time for some creative abuse of authority.

    I straighten up, slap on my best 'official unicorn who knows what he's doing' face, and pull my brand-new Archmage badge from my saddlebag.

    The conductor, an older stallion with a thick mustache, raises a brow as I approach. "Can I help you?"

    I flash the badge. "Yes, you can. Kinetic Flux, Royal Archmage of Equestria." I lower my voice, adding just the right amount of mystery. "I'm here for an inspection."

    His eyes widen. "Oh! Well, uh, we weren't told about an inspection…"

    I nod sagely. "That's the point. Surprise inspections ensure quality and efficiency. Now, if you'd be so kind as to show me how this magnificent machine operates…" I gesture toward the controls like I actually know what I'm looking at.

    The conductor hesitates for only a second before stepping aside. "Right this way, sir."

    Perfect.

    I step into the train's engine room, eager to see what actually makes this thing run. I'm expecting something mechanical—maybe a hybrid setup, a magical booster system, something with gears and pistons and actual engineering.

    Instead, I'm greeted by a series of glowing runes carved into metal plates.

    I stare.

    The conductor beams. "A marvel of modern enchantment! The entire system runs on a series of magically inscribed rune circuits, powered by an integrated leyline converter! Efficient, clean, and requires no manual labor!"

    I resist the urge to scream.

    Of course it's just magic.

    I let out a long sigh, rubbing my temples. "So… no steam engine? No pistons? No actual mechanics?"

    The conductor frowns. "What are those? No. It's got a rune that holds it up to lighten it, and a rune that pushes it along. It's all powered by the layline."

    I sigh again, feeling deeply disappointed. "So you're telling me this is basically just a floating platform with wheels?"

    He blinks. "Uh… I suppose you could put it that way, but—"

    I hold up a hoof. "No, don't ruin it further. Just let me mourn."

    He looks thoroughly confused but wisely decides not to press the issue.

    I give the glowing runes one last disappointed glance before turning away. "Alright, inspection complete. You're all… doing fine, I guess."

    The conductor nods eagerly. "Excellent! I'll be sure to report that the Archmage personally approved our systems!"

    I wave a hoof, already walking out. "Yeah, yeah, just don't let any of this get to your head."

    As I step back onto the platform, my good mood from earlier is completely gone.

    Magic is such a lazy solution.

    Canterlot is exactly as I remember it—tall, pristine, and filled with ponies who look like they were born knowing how to sneer. The last time I was here, I took a flying carriage straight to the Archmage Examination. No wandering the streets, no rubbing elbows with the nobility. Just a straight shot to my so-called destiny.

    This time, though? I'm walking through the city like a normal pony, surrounded by Twilight and the rest of the girls as we make our way toward the castle. The streets are bustling, with finely dressed ponies moving toward the Grand Galloping Gala, their outfits ranging from tasteful to whatever Rarity considers tasteful.

    The girls start singing some song, and I tune them out while walking.

    I glance down at my own suit. It's… functional. Slightly wrinkled. Definitely cheaper than most of what I'm seeing. But I have something far more valuable than fancy fabric—my Archmage badge and the royal stipend burning a hole in my saddlebags.

    It's the little things in life.

    We're almost at the castle when I remember something important.

    I have a plus one.

    A free extra ticket. A golden opportunity. How best to use this to my advantage?

    I smirk.

    "Hang on a sec," I say, stopping in my tracks.

    Twilight pauses. "What? Why?"

    I scan the street, my eyes landing on a random unicorn mare standing near a café, looking through her bag. She's dressed nicely but clearly not on her way to the Gala.

    Perfect.

    I walk straight up to her. "Hey, you busy tonight?"

    She blinks, looking up. "Uh… no?"

    "Great. Want to go to the Grand Galloping Gala with me?"

    Her eyes widen. "Are… are you serious?"

    "Dead serious." I hold up my extra ticket. "No strings attached. Just need a date for the evening. You in?"

    Behind me, I hear Twilight make a strangled noise.

    Rarity gasps. "Kinetic! You cannot be serious!"

    The mare looks between me and the ticket, clearly confused but not opposed to the idea. "This isn't a prank, is it?"

    I shake my head. "Nope. Just thought it'd be funny."

    Twilight stomps up beside me. "You cannot just grab a random mare off the street!"

    I glance at her. "Why not?"

    "Because—that's not—"that's not how you're supposed to do it!"

    Rarity looks like she's about to faint. "This is high society! There are expectations! You can't just drag a random stranger into a royal event!"

    The mare shrugs. "I mean… I wouldn't mind going."

    I grin. "See? She's fine with it."

    Twilight sputters. "That's not the point!"

    I turn back to the mare. "What's your name?"

    "Uh… Amethyst Star."

    "Cool. I'm Kinetic Flux. I'm an Archmage, apparently. Now you're my plus one. Ready?"

    She laughs. "I mean, why not?"

    Twilight looks deeply distressed. Rarity looks personally offended.

    I'm having a great time.

    With my new completely legitimate date secured, we continue toward the palace. Amethyst Star walks beside me, looking both amused and a little bewildered. Twilight, meanwhile, keeps glancing at me like she wants to say something but can't quite figure out what.

    Rarity, on the other hoof, is very vocal about her disapproval.

    "This is an absolute travesty!" she huffs as we approach the gates. "A random mare off the street? What must ponies think?!"

    I smirk. "Probably that I'm a stallion of mystery and intrigue."

    Twilight groans. "That's definitely not what they think."

    Amethyst Star giggles. "I dunno, I think it's kind of fun."

    "Exactly," I say, nodding. "You get it."

    Twilight twitches. "Why are you like this?"

    "I ask myself that every day," I say sagely.

    Twilight glares. "Just behave like you promised."

    The guards at the gate barely glance at us before stepping aside, letting us into the castle grounds. Once inside, the golden glow of chandeliers, polished marble, and excessive wealth surrounds us. A lot of ponies are already mingling, chatting in their high-society tones. Classical music drifts through the air, mixing with the faint sound of clinking glasses.

    I take a deep breath. "Smells expensive."

    Applejack rolls her eyes. "Smells like a buncha ponies with too much money."

    I grin. "Same thing."

    As we step further in, Twilight still looks flustered, her eyes darting to me and Amethyst every few seconds.

    "You okay there, Sparkle?" I ask, raising a brow.

    "I—I just don't understand why you'd do this!" she blurts out.

    I blink. "Do what?"

    "Just—this!" She gestures wildly at Amethyst. "You had a plus one, and instead of inviting somepony you know, you just—picked somepony at random! It doesn't make sense!"

    I shrug. "Seemed like the best way to use it."

    Twilight groans. "But why?"

    Rarity nods dramatically. "Yes, why?"

    Amethyst Star, to her credit, is just enjoying the chaos.

    Twilight glares at me, waiting for an answer.

    I smirk. "Maybe I just enjoy keeping you on your hooves, Twilight."

    She opens her mouth, then closes it. Her face scrunches up, her ears flicking like she's trying to process something deeply upsetting.

    "You know what? Fine," she finally huffs, turning away with a dramatic flick of her tail. "Do whatever you want."

    "Oh, I will," I say cheerfully.

    As she stomps off, Rarity gives me a withering look before trotting after her.

    I turn to Amethyst Star. "So, wanna go pretend we belong here?"

    She grins. "Absolutely."

    Tonight's off to a fantastic start.

    I lead Amethyst Star straight to the most important part of any fancy event—the sweets table.

    Towering cakes, perfectly arranged pastries, tiny little delicacies that probably cost more than my rent—this is exactly where I belong.

    I grab a plate, loading it up with the most expensive-looking treats I can find. Amethyst Star does the same, clearly getting into the spirit of things.

    "This stuff's free, right?" I ask, stuffing a miniature éclair into my mouth.

    Amethyst Star snorts. "I think that's the point."

    "Good, good. I'd hate to start my first Gala as an Archmage with theft charges."

    A few nearby nobles glance over at us, already side-eyeing our existence. I grin. Time to have some fun.

    I lean toward Amethyst, lowering my voice just enough to make sure the ponies around us can still hear.

    "You know, it's funny," I say, taking another bite of cake. "Most ponies think the Archmage position is all research and spellcraft."

    Amethyst raises a brow. "It's not?"

    "Oh, no," I say, shaking my head. "It's mostly secret missions."

    A unicorn in a ridiculous feathered hat subtly leans closer. I can feel the curiosity radiating from the ponies around us.

    Amethyst catches on immediately, nodding along. "Really? What kind of missions?"

    I sigh dramatically, like I'm about to reveal classified information. "Well, I shouldn't say, but since we're at a royal event, I suppose a little slip won't hurt…"

    The nobles are fully eavesdropping now.

    I glance around, then lower my voice. "You know how the Griffon Empire's been suspiciously quiet lately?"

    Amethyst nods. "Uh-huh."

    "Yeah," I say, shaking my head. "That's because of me."

    Gasps. A mare actually drops her champagne glass.

    Amethyst barely keeps a straight face. "No way. You?"

    I nod gravely. "Mmm. Let's just say there was an incident at the embassy a few months back. You wouldn't believe the things I had to do to avert disaster."

    The nobles are now whispering to each other.

    "Wait," Amethyst says, playing along perfectly. "You mean that whole thing with the ambassador's mysterious illness—"

    I hold up a hoof. "I can't confirm or deny that I may have been involved in a covert magical operation to prevent an international crisis."

    The feather-hat unicorn gasps again.

    I take another bite of cake, chewing dramatically as if I definitely didn't just drop a fabricated international scandal into high society's lap.

    The nobles around us are riveted.

    Amethyst Star, barely holding in her laughter, leans in. "That's incredible," she whispers loudly. "But surely you weren't alone on such a delicate mission?"

    I sigh, shaking my head. "Of course not. There were others—agents, specialists, operatives—but some things only an Archmage can handle."

    A stallion in a ridiculously oversized cravat practically chokes on his drink.

    "Like what?" Amethyst asks, playing the perfect conspirator.

    I glance around, lowering my voice again. "Let's just say… certain magical artifacts are better left undisturbed." I pause meaningfully. "Unless, of course, you want to wake up with a griffon curse."

    A chorus of scandalized whispers erupts from the nobles around us.

    One of them—a mare with a pearl necklace that probably costs more than my entire existence—tilts her head. "You're saying there's a cursed artifact in the Griffon Empire?"

    I tap my chin, as if considering whether I should divulge more. "Technically, it's not in the Griffon Empire anymore…" I let my words hang, watching her eyes widen in horror.

    Amethyst Star gasps. "Wait. Wait. Are you saying it's here?"

    I exhale through my nose, giving her a grim look. "Let's just say, if you start having… unusual dreams tonight, I suggest seeking a healer immediately."

    The pearl-necklace mare actually turns pale.

    A noble stallion next to her mutters, "I knew something felt off tonight…"

    Amethyst is openly grinning now, but she somehow keeps her tone serious. "This is huge. Why hasn't the princess addressed this publicly?"

    I take another slow bite of cake, chewing thoughtfully. "You don't really think Celestia tells everypony everything, do you?"

    At that moment, I swear half the nobles physically recoil. One mare actually clutches her chest like I've just shattered her worldview.

    Amethyst Star nods sagely. "Of course. It makes so much sense now."

    I sigh again. "It's a burden, really. The things I know. The things I can't say. But hey," I grab another pastry, tossing it into my mouth, "that's the job."

    The feather-hat unicorn is practically vibrating with the urge to run off and immediately spread this nonsense to every pony in the ballroom.

    Mission accomplished.

    I dust off my hooves and turn to Amethyst. "So. More cake?"

    She lets out an actual snort of laughter, nodding. "Oh, absolutely. But I swear, if I have unusual dreams tonight, I'm tracking you down."

    I wink. "Good luck finding me."

    As we turn back to the sweets table, I catch a glimpse of Twilight across the room, deep in conversation with Celestia.

    And she looks directly at me.

    I hold her gaze.

    She narrows her eyes.

    I grin.

    Yeah. This night's going great.

    As I'm busy stacking my plate with yet another round of high-society sugar, I hear the unmistakable voice of Princess Luna echo across the ballroom.

    "Kinetic Flux! Thou scoundrelous rogue!"

    I turn just in time to see a tall, dark alicorn striding toward me, her ethereal mane flowing like a slice of the night sky. Her expression? A perfect mix of excitement and mischief.

    "Luna," I say, grinning. "Been a while."

    She stops just in front of me, looking me up and down with a smirk. "Indeed. Too long! We have been bored in thine absence." She tilts her head. "Hast thou been causing trouble in our fair lands?"

    I hold up my badge. "Officially, no. Unofficially, I maintain my right to silence."

    She snorts. "Thou art a menace, and we adore thee for it."

    Amethyst Star, standing beside me with a half-eaten tart in her hoof, watches the exchange with open curiosity. I nod toward her. "Oh, where are my manners? Luna, this is Amethyst Star, my lover of ten years."

    Amethyst Star chokes on her tart.

    Luna deadpans. "Ah, yes, truly a touching tale of devotion." She narrows her eyes playfully. "And yet, when last we spoke, thou didst claim to despise the equine form, particularly due to the—how didst thou put it—'grotesquely large and offensively veiny eyeballs'?"

    Amethyst Star is now coughing violently.

    I clear my throat. "Ah, well. You know how it is. Love finds a way."

    Luna smirks, stepping closer. "And tell us, dear Amethyst Star, how didst thou ensnare our dear friend, knowing his… deeply held aesthetic grievances?"

    Amethyst, to her credit, recovers quickly. She flashes a dazzling smile. "Oh, it was quite simple, your highness. I just kept my eyes closed for the first five years."

    Luna throws her head back and howls with laughter.

    The nobles within earshot, who had already been quietly scandalized by my presence, now look utterly lost, unsure if they should be horrified or amused.

    Twilight, who I spot from across the room, looks entirely horrified.

    Luna wipes a tear from her eye. "Oh, how we have missed thee, Kinetic! Thou art a breath of fresh air amidst this dreary parade of self-important peacocks."

    I smirk. "I do what I can."

    She leans in conspiratorially. "Tell us, what schemes dost thou have planned for the evening?"

    I grin. "Well, I already started a rumor about a cursed griffon artifact hidden in Canterlot, so we're off to a good start."

    Luna gasps in delight. "Truly? A most noble endeavor!" She places a hoof on her chest dramatically. "We shall ensure the rumor spreads swiftly."

    I nod. "I expected nothing less."

    Amethyst Star leans in. "Didn't you tell Twilight that you were going to behave tonight."

    I give her an innocent look. "I am behaving... poorly."

    Luna nudges me with a wing. "Come! We must mingle further. 'Tis rare we find one as entertaining as thee amidst these insipid festivities!"

    Amethyst Star grins. "Oh, I like her."

    I smirk. "Yeah. She's alright."

    Luna grins back. "We heard that!"

    This night just keeps getting better.

    I follow Luna and Amethyst Star through the ballroom, occasionally picking up another random dessert from a passing waiter. The energy of the Gala is shifting—whispers of the cursed griffon artifact are spreading, nobles are nervously glancing over their shoulders, and more than one pony is now clutching a lucky charm for protection.

    Luna is thrilled.

    We're in the middle of discussing whether I should escalate the rumor by dropping hints about a secret anti-curse task force when I start noticing something strange.

    Namely, the fact that I'm no longer the biggest source of chaos in the room.

    Across the ballroom, Applejack has abandoned any attempt at elegance and is now aggressively selling apple-based goods to passing nobles like she's at the Ponyville market. She's cornered a particularly overwhelmed-looking stallion and is currently waving a caramel apple in his face like it's a high-stakes business deal.

    On the other side of the hall, Rarity's expression has gone from dreamy to horrified as Prince Blueblood—Canterlot's most self-important stallion—turns his nose up at every polite thing she's tried to do for him. He just made her open a door for him. I can feel the impending explosion from here.

    Pinkie Pie, in the center of the dance floor, is… well. Pinkie Pie-ing. The Gala's upper class does not know how to handle her energy, and their stiff, refined dancing is rapidly dissolving into barely contained panic.

    Meanwhile, Fluttershy is—oh. Oh no.

    I spot her near the royal gardens, stalking a group of clearly frightened animals. I swear I see a squirrel visibly shaking as she inches closer.

    And then there's Rainbow Dash, who's been glued to the Wonderbolts all night, trying to impress them. I don't know how that's going, but given the increasingly irritated looks on their faces, I'd say not well.

    Twilight, standing near Celestia, is watching all of this unfold with growing horror.

    I nudge Luna. "So, question."

    She raises a brow. "Ask, and we shall answer."

    "Did Celestia actually think this was going to be a nice, peaceful evening with this crowd, or was this all part of some elaborate prank?"

    Luna follows my gaze, eyes flicking over the sheer amount of problems currently unfolding.

    Then she grins.

    "We suspect," she says, "that our sister knew precisely what would transpire."

    I smile. Of course Celestia saw this coming. She probably invited them knowing full well what kind of disaster they'd unleash. I respect the long game.

    At this point, things are actively falling apart. Applejack is now yelling about "honest country cooking" while trying to force-feed some noble a slice of pie. Pinkie has fully hijacked the dance floor, bouncing around while horrified nobles scatter like roaches. Fluttershy—sweet, gentle Fluttershy—is chasing a peacock through the ballroom with the manic energy of a mare on the edge.

    Then, the cake incident happens.

    I turn just in time to witness it in all its glory—some unfortunate waiter stumbles, sending a towering, beautifully decorated cake flying through the air. Prince Blueblood, seeing the incoming confectionary doom, grabs Rarity and uses her as a shield.

    There's a glorious splat as Rarity takes a full-on, frosting-covered impact to the face.

    A moment of silence follows.

    Then, she screams.

    The entire ballroom erupts.

    Glasses shatter. Ponies panic. Tables flip. Fluttershy finally snaps and starts shrieking at the animals. Somewhere in the chaos, I hear Pinkie cheering.

    I nod, taking a deep breath. "Yep. That's my cue."

    Luna sighs dramatically. "Alas! Duty calls. We must confer with our sister."

    I pat her on the shoulder. "Go do royal things. I'm gonna focus on what's important."

    She raises a brow. "Which is?"

    I gesture toward the dessert table. "Making sure all this free food doesn't go to waste."

    Luna grins. "A noble cause. Go forth, brave Archmage."

    I salute before heading over and absolutely looting the sweets table. I shove pastries, eclairs, and whatever else I can carry into my saddlebags before casually making my way toward the exit. Amethyst Star follows, balancing a small plate of treats on her back.

    As soon as we step outside, the muffled chaos of the ballroom fades into the cool, quiet air of the castle gardens. I let out a long sigh, stretching.

    "That," I say, "was beautiful."

    Amethyst Star laughs. "I don't think I've ever seen nobles look that terrified."

    "You should come to more events with me," I say, sitting on one of the garden benches. "This kind of thing happens a lot."

    She plops down next to me, taking a bite of some fancy pastry. "You really don't take anything seriously, do you?"

    I shrug. "Why would I? Have you met the world? It's ridiculous."

    She smirks. "Fair point."

    We sit there for a bit, just enjoying the night air and watching as very distressed guests start spilling out of the ballroom. After a while, Amethyst Star sighs and stands up.

    "Alright, I think I've had my fun. I should probably head home before I get roped into cleaning up whatever's happening in there."

    I smirk. "Coward."

    She flicks my ear with her tail. "Survivor."

    I watch as she trots off, disappearing into the Canterlot streets. I lean back, munching on an eclair, feeling very satisfied with how this night turned out.

    At least she kept Rarity off my back for the night.

    AN: found a way to copy paste without needing to edit each italicized word.​
     
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    • I sit back on the garden bench, savoring my ill-gotten desserts as the distant sounds of the Gala Aftermath continue inside the castle. It's peaceful out here. Cool night air, the faint hum of Canterlot city life beyond the palace walls, and the lingering satisfaction of knowing I left the ballroom at exactly the right time.

    Eventually, the doors swing open, and the Mane Six stumble out, looking… rough.

    Their dresses are torn, their manes are messy, and they all look exhausted. Applejack has what looks like frosting smeared across her hat, Rarity still has cake in her mane, and Fluttershy's dress is missing half of its fabric.

    Celestia walks with them, smiling in that calmly amused but definitely planned this whole thing way she does.

    Twilight spots me lounging on the bench, looking far too comfortable for someone who was technically at the same event.

    "Where's your date?" she asks, her voice tinged with something I can't quite place.

    I shrug. "Eh. Easy come, easy go."

    She frowns slightly but says nothing, just nods as she takes a seat beside me.

    The rest of the girls collapse onto nearby benches, clearly done with the night.

    Celestia, ever the composed one, gives me a knowing look before excusing herself. She's definitely going back inside to survey the wreckage.

    After a few minutes, we start heading back to the train station. The group walks together, tired and defeated, but Twilight… Twilight sticks a bit closer to me than usual.

    I don't really think much of it at first—ponies naturally group up, right?

    Then I casually move a little to the side, giving myself more space.

    Twilight immediately shifts closer again.

    I glance at her. She doesn't say anything, just keeps walking like this is normal.

    I squint.

    I move again, just a little.

    She instantly moves with me, still pretending like nothing's happening.

    Okay.

    I move one more time.

    This time, she bumps my shoulder—not enough to shove me, but just enough to make a point. I glance over and see her give a withering glare out of the corner of her eyes.

    A very silent, very deliberate point.

    I get the message loud and clear. Don't do it again.

    I, of course, willfully ignore the implications of this.

    She's probably just tired, right? Yeah. Just tired. She had a long night. It's not weird.

    We keep walking.

    Twilight stays right next to me the entire way to the train station.

    And I pretend not to notice.

    The train ride back to Ponyville is quiet. Everyone's exhausted, their high expectations for the night thoroughly crushed. Rarity still looks like she wants to murder Blueblood, Applejack grumbles about "fancy folk who wouldn't know good food if it bit 'em," and Fluttershy is muttering to herself about "stupid animals who don't appreciate kindness."

    Me? I'm feeling great. This night went exactly as I expected, and I even got free food out of it.

    The train pulls out of the station, and everypony settles into their seats. I slide into a nice, comfortable spot by the window, fully prepared to ignore everyone and enjoy the ride back home.

    Then Twilight sits right next to me.

    There are plenty of other open seats, mind you. The train isn't packed. She could sit anywhere.

    But no.

    She sits next to me.

    I glance at her. She's staring out the window, totally silent.

    Alright. Fine. She's tired. Whatever.

    I lean back, relaxing, letting the steady rhythm of the train fill the silence.

    Then I notice something else.

    Twilight is sitting way too close.

    Like, not normal close.

    Like, pressed right up against my side close.

    I glance down. Yep. Her shoulder is touching mine. And she isn't moving away.

    Okay.

    I decide to test something.

    I shift slightly, just enough to make a little space.

    Twilight immediately shifts with me, closing the gap.

    I blink.

    I move again.

    She follows.

    Oh. We're doing this now.

    I sigh internally and decide to just accept my fate. If Twilight Sparkle has decided that I am her preferred leaning post, then so be it.

    I try to start a conversation. "So, did you at least have fun before everything fell apart?"

    No response.

    I glance at her. She's still staring out the window, expression completely neutral, as if I don't exist.

    Huh.

    "Twilight?" I try again.

    Nothing.

    Okay, so she's ignoring me, but still sitting pressed against me?

    What is this? Some kind of passive-aggressive punishment?

    I sigh, shaking my head. "Alright. Cool. Guess we're doing the silent treatment now."

    Still nothing.

    Fine. Whatever. I lean my head against the window, deciding to just enjoy the ride.

    Twilight stays glued to my side the entire trip, ignoring me the whole way.

    When we finally pull into Ponyville, everypony shuffles off the train, still half-asleep.

    I stretch, rolling my shoulders. "Alright, that was fun. Time to—"

    Twilight shoots me a look—a subtle, warning glare, like she knows I'm about to vanish.

    I take that as my cue to immediately vanish.

    "—head home!" I finish quickly, turning and walking off before she can stop me.

    She huffs behind me, but doesn't follow.

    Crisis averted.

    As I step onto the path leading to my H.A.R.D.I.S., I shake my head.

    Twilight is acting weird.

    Probably just tired.

    Definitely nothing to think about.

    I step into the comforting, magic anomaly that is my house, shutting the door behind me with a satisfied sigh. The H.A.R.D.I.S. is quiet, the glowing orbs floating gently in place, casting a soft, steady light over the marble countertops of my kitchen.

    I head straight for the counter, pulling my saddlebags off and setting them down. Then, with the reverence of a scholar handling ancient texts, I carefully extract my ill-gotten desserts and arrange them on a plate.

    A tower of pastries. Eclairs, tarts, and fancy little treats that probably cost more than my entire outfit.

    Perfect.

    I lift the large glass cloche from the counter—one of the few nice things I actually own—place it carefully over my prize, and step back to admire my work.

    Beautiful.

    A trophy. A testament to my cunning.

    Satisfied, I give the plate a final nod of approval and make my way to my room, stretching as I go.

    Flopping onto my bed, I stare at the ceiling for a moment.

    The Gala was exactly what I expected.

    A disaster.

    A fun disaster.

    I close my eyes, smirking to myself.

    Yeah.

    Nothing to think about.

    With that final thought, I drift off to sleep.

    I wake up to the sound of relentless pounding on my door.

    For a second, I debate just ignoring it—whoever it is, whatever they want, it's not my problem. But the knocking doesn't stop. If anything, it gets louder.

    I groan, rolling out of bed. "Alright, alright! Calm down!"

    Dragging myself to the door, I yank it open, blinking blearily at the ponies standing outside. It's Twilight. And she looks stressed. Which, honestly, isn't unusual.

    Behind her, the other Elements stand at varying levels of concerned.

    "Alright," I say, rubbing my eyes. "Who died?"

    Twilight doesn't even waste time explaining—she just points to the sky.

    I look up.

    The clouds are pink.

    And raining chocolate milk.

    I blink.

    Then I close the door.

    The pounding starts again immediately.

    "Kinetic, open the door!"

    "Nope."

    "Kinetic!"

    "Not my problem!"

    "It is your problem!"

    I sigh, opening the door just enough to squint at her. "How exactly is this my problem? You've got your fancy Elements of Harmony, go fix it."

    Twilight glares at me. "We've been called to Canterlot. You are coming with us."

    I stare at her. "No, I am not."

    "Yes, you are."

    I cross my hooves. "Twilight, let me explain this very simply—I am not an Element of Harmony. I do not have a rainbow laser of friendship. You do." I gesture vaguely at the group. "So, go use it."

    Twilight's eye twitches. "Princess Celestia personally asked for you."

    I pause.

    Okay.

    That's a problem.

    Because I know what's happening.

    The others don't—not yet. They just think this is another villain-of-the-week situation. But I know what's about to wake up. And dread that I might know exactly why Celestia wants me there.

    Because of the Seventh Element.

    I suppress a groan, running a hoof through my mane.

    I rejected it. weeks ago.

    When the Elements found their bearers, the Seventh was supposed to have one too. But it never happened. I never told anyone about it, and as far as I could tell, the others worked just fine without it.

    It just sat there, a dead stone. Useless.

    And I left it there.

    I sigh. "Fine. Let me grab my stuff."

    Twilight nods, satisfied, as I shut the door behind me.

    This is going to suck.

    The flight to Canterlot is uneventful, aside from the fact that the sky is still an absolute mess. Pink cotton candy clouds, chocolate milk rain, and, at one point, I swear I see an entire house slowly spinning in midair. The whole thing screams chaos.

    Because, well… it is.

    Twilight and the others are still mostly focused on their mission. I, meanwhile, am just trying to mentally prepare for what's coming.

    I know Discord is waking up. I know the Elements are our only shot at stopping him. What I don't know is why Celestia specifically called me.

    Unless—

    I push that thought way down.

    The carriage lands directly in the castle courtyard, and Celestia is already waiting for us. She looks calm, but there's an unmistakable tension in her posture.

    "Thank you all for coming so quickly," she says as we step out of the carriage. Her eyes land on me. "Kinetic, I appreciate your presence as well."

    I nod, keeping my expression neutral. "Well, you did ask nicely."

    Twilight, still wound way too tight, cuts straight to business. "Princess, what's going on? We saw the sky, but what exactly are we dealing with?"

    Celestia gestures for us to follow. "I will explain everything on the way. Come."

    We walk through the grand halls of the castle as Celestia speaks.

    "Long ago, before my sister's banishment, Equestria was ruled not just by alicorns, but by another—a being of pure chaos. Discord."

    Twilight gasps. "The Spirit of Chaos and Disharmony!"

    I resist the urge to roll my eyes.

    Celestia nods. "He ruled over the land in a state of disorder and madness. My sister and I, together, used the Elements of Harmony to turn him to stone, ending his reign of chaos."

    Rainbow Dash grins. "So we just zap him again with the Elements, right? Easy."

    Celestia's expression darkens. "Yes… but the Elements are kept in a secure vault. I called you all here to retrieve them."

    I frown slightly. If it were that simple, why would she call me?

    Unless—

    That thought bubbles up again. I shove it back down.

    We arrive at the massive doors of the vault. They glow with golden magic, reinforced with layers of security enchantments. Celestia steps forward, her horn lighting up as she inserts it into the lock. The doors groan as the mechanisms turn, and slowly, the vault creaks open.

    Inside the vault, a stone pedestal stands at the center of the chamber, pristine and untouched. Upon it rests a finely crafted golden box, lined with the sigils of the Sun and Moon—Celestia's own magic. The room is utterly silent as Celestia steps forward, her horn glowing as she unlatches the lid and opens it.

    The box is empty.

    A cold weight settles in my gut.

    Twilight gasps, stepping forward. "What? But… but that's impossible! The spells, the wards—"

    Celestia's expression hardens, her jaw tightening. "No. It is not impossible. It is him."

    And just like that, the room darkens.

    The torches lining the walls flicker and dim. The air shifts, thick with something wrong. I feel it crawling up my spine before I see it—the murals along the walls of the chamber begin to move.

    At first, it's subtle. A ripple in the painted sky. The ponies shift ever so slightly. Then, the image of a great, winding beast, painted in ancient colors, stretches and grins.

    A voice, smooth and full of laughter, slithers through the air.

    "Did you miss me, Celestia? I missed you."

    The mural Discord's eyes glint with wicked delight as he lounges against the image of a painted cloud.

    "It's quite lonely being encased in stone, but you wouldn't know that, would you?" The voice hums, thoughtful. "Because I don't turn ponies into stone."

    Celestia steps forward, her wings flaring, her face an unreadable mask. "Discord."

    The painted creature grins wider, slithering from one mural to the next, shifting from wall to wall as though he's never truly still.

    "Ah, and these must be your little champions," he muses, his attention now flicking toward the Elements. "Let's see…"

    He studies them.

    I don't like it. His gaze lingers too long.

    Discord's grin widens, his painted form slithering between the walls as if inspecting a collection of prized objects.

    "Ah, Applejack," he drawls, his voice laced with amusement. "The most honest liar I've ever seen. Always tellin' the truth—except when it really matters. What would dear ol' Granny Smith say if she knew how many times you held your tongue just to keep the family together?"

    Applejack stiffens. Her jaw tightens, but she doesn't speak.

    "And Rainbow Dash," he continues, flowing seamlessly across the wall like an ink spill. "Brave, fast, loyal—oh, so loyal. But tell me, what happens when loyalty is tested? When you have to choose between what you want and what's right? Between one friend and another?" He tsks. "I do wonder."

    Rainbow bristles, her wings flaring slightly, but she doesn't take the bait.

    Then Discord shifts again, his gaze settling on Fluttershy. He softens his tone, feigning sympathy. "And sweet little Fluttershy. So kind, so gentle. But kindness has its limits, doesn't it? How many times have you bit your tongue, swallowed your hurt, let others walk all over you? Will kindness save you, I wonder? Or will it be the thing that breaks you?"

    Fluttershy doesn't move, but I can see her trembling.

    "Ah, Pinkie Pie!" he exclaims suddenly, his voice taking on a cheerful lilt. "The funny one. The party pony. The mare who makes everypony laugh—because if she doesn't…" His voice dips into something mocking now. "How tiring it must be, keeping up the act. Smiles can crack, you know."

    Pinkie's usual grin falters, just for a fraction of a second.

    Discord doesn't pause. He's relentless.

    "And Rarity." His tone turns sickly sweet. "Such generosity! Such grace! But what is generosity when it's built on the need to be admired? You give, and you give, and yet—how often do you truly receive?"

    Rarity's lip twitches, but she maintains her composure.

    Then he shifts his attention to Twilight.

    "And you," he purrs. "Celestia's perfect little student. So bright. So special. But tell me, Twilight, do you really believe in friendship? Or is it just… convenient? A tool. A system. Something to be understood, studied, used." He leans in, his painted form looming over her. "Tell me… if it all fell apart, would you fight to keep them? Or would you accept that you were always meant to be alone?"

    Twilight's ears flatten, and I see her take an instinctive step back.

    Then his gaze turns to me.

    And he hesitates.

    His playful grin falters, just slightly, his eyes narrowing in something too calculated to be amusement.

    "Now, you…"

    The weight of his attention slams down on me, sharp and assessing.

    His eyes flick over me, unreadable.

    Then, his head tilts.

    "You're not supposed to be here."

    I feel my muscles tense, my mind already calculating. If he fully manifests, I can fight. But if he's still bound to the murals—

    Snap.

    The world vanishes.

    No build-up. No time to react.

    One second, I'm standing in the castle vault, Discord's painted eyes on me.

    The next, I'm somewhere else.

    I stumble forward, the ground beneath me rough and uneven. Dirt. Grass. The heavy scent of damp earth.

    The air is thick, humid. The trees around me loom like silent sentinels, their gnarled branches twisting into a tangled canopy above. I don't need to look around to know where I am.

    The Everfree.

    Right where I first arrived.

    My pulse hammers in my ears as I take a slow, steady breath. My body feels wrong, disoriented, like I was yanked out of reality and shoved somewhere else too fast for my senses to catch up. My mind flickers back to those first frantic moments when I had landed here weeks ago, utterly lost and terrified.

    The silence is oppressive.

    Then, he speaks.

    "Oh, dear me, you look concerned."

    Discord's voice slithers through the trees, but I can't see him. It's everywhere and nowhere at once, sinking into the very air.

    I grit my teeth and inhale sharply. Alright. First things first—I need to get out of here. I plant my hooves firmly on the ground and prepare to use the disk lift spell.

    I summon my magic, reaching out with the familiar mental tug—

    There's a snap of white-hot pain.

    I stagger, my breath hitching, and my head feels wrong. Like something's missing. Like a part of me just—isn't there.

    My heart slams against my ribs as I raise a hoof to my forehead.

    My horn is gone.

    I hear Discord chuckle.

    "Oh my," he purrs. "You rely on that little thing so much, don't you? What an inconvenience."

    My breaths are coming too fast now. I have to calm down, to think. Focus.

    I straighten, gritting my teeth. "What do you want?"

    He sighs dramatically. "Oh, I've already gotten what I wanted." His voice hums through the forest, shifting, slinking through the trees. "You, gone."

    I clench my jaw, already moving. I think I remember which way I walked last time. I just have to keep moving.

    Then he speaks again.

    And I freeze.

    "But, you know," he muses, his tone almost conversational, "I have to admit, you are fascinating."

    I start walking again, forcing myself forward. "Go be fascinated somewhere else."

    "But why would I do that? You're the strangest little thing I've come across in centuries."

    The weight of his presence coils around me, unseen but undeniable. My muscles tighten as I keep moving, keep walking, refusing to engage. I just need to get out of here.

    "Oh, don't be so cold, John."

    I stop.

    The forest suddenly feels very small.

    "...What did you just say?" My voice comes out quiet. Too quiet.

    The air grows heavy, pressing against me, thick with something wrong.

    I swallow hard, pushing forward. Don't stop. Don't react.

    But he doesn't stop talking.

    "Oh, don't be like that," Discord sighs, his voice curling around me like a snake. "We are friends, aren't we? No? Well, we could be." A chuckle. "Not like they'd ever accept you if they really knew you."

    I don't stop moving.

    "Because you know, don't you?" His voice dips, rich with amusement. "You told dear Celestia and Luna what you are… but not what that means."

    I falter. Just a fraction. But he catches it.

    He laughs.

    "Ah, there it is," he purrs. "The real fear. The thing you don't like thinking about."

    His voice lowers, slithering into something almost… fond.

    "You talk about ponies like they're so unbearably ugly. You joke, you mock, you push them away. But it's not them, is it?" His voice slithers through my thoughts, saccharine and knowing. "Not their veiny eyes, staring too wide—no, that's just an excuse, isn't it?" His voice slithers through my thoughts, saccharine and knowing. "It's you."

    My stomach knots, cold and tight.

    "You see it, don't you?" Discord purrs. "Those oversized, glistening eyes, so round, so trusting. Looking at you like you're one of them, like you belong. Like you could ever be so soft, so pure." His voice lowers, curling at the edges with something almost gentle, almost cruel. "But you never were, were you? Not even as a child. No wide-eyed innocence, no simple, stupid faith in the world. You were something else—something jagged, something hollow. And yet, when they look at you, they believe in something that never existed."

    A pause. A chuckle, rich with amusement.

    "I wonder," Discord hums, "what's worse? That they see what you never were... or that, for a moment, you almost wish you could be?"

    I force myself forward, my mind running calculations, searching for an exit, anything.

    "Let's see," Discord continues, thoughtful now. "How much do you think they'd forgive? A little deception? A few lies? Or… everything?" He hums. "Would they still stand beside you, knowing what you really are? Knowing what you're capable of?"

    I keep walking. I don't react.

    Because I know he's right.

    And Discord knows that I know.

    He laughs, the sound rolling through the trees. "And oh, you have such wonderful plans for me, don't you?" His voice drops, almost a whisper. "What was it, again? Oh, yes."

    A pause.

    Then—

    "You're going to kill me."

    My breath hitches.

    I stop.

    The forest is silent.

    Discord's voice is an echoing whisper in my ear, amused and terribly pleased with himself.

    "You calculated it," he murmurs, his voice coiling around my spine. "Measured the odds, considered the outcomes. You planned to eliminate me before I could become a threat." He chuckles, almost fondly. "Oh, my dear John, you're not an Archmage."

    I swallow hard.

    "You're a predator."

    The forest around me seems to hold its breath, as though every branch and leaf and twisted root is leaning in to listen. Discord's voice caresses the back of my neck, soaking into the damp air. I force myself to move—one hoof in front of the other—clinging to a thread of composure.

    My mind reels, trying to piece together an escape route, to think of any advantage left to me—but he took my horn. All I have are my hooves and my wits, and they feel painfully inadequate against this.

    "But you know," Discord says softly, voice curling around me like a serpent, "even if you did manage to fire off a few 'spells', even if you had the perfect plan…" He chuckles. "What would it change?"

    I clench my jaw, refusing to answer.

    "Let's be honest here, John." He practically purrs the word, letting it reverberate in my skull. "Ever since you showed up, have you truly changed anything? The ponies had their adventures, solved their problems, made their friends. With or without you, they'd be just where they are now."

    He's lying, I tell myself. He's lying. But a part of me starts digging through my memories, searching for any evidence he's wrong.

    "And let's see," Discord continues, unhurried, almost lazy. "Nightmare Moon? The Elements blasted her without your help. The parasprites? Pinkie's polka took care of that. Even this fiasco with me would have happened exactly the same, except now you're complicating things with your… otherness."

    I swallow, my mouth suddenly dry. I can't seem to muster any words in my defense.

    "Face it," he whispers, voice distant and close all at once. "You're a foreign body in a story that was never yours. You're the out-of-place puzzle piece that doesn't fit. Every 'heroic act' you've done, every 'lesson' you've taught… the timeline marches on, unaffected. You could vanish tomorrow, and nopony would notice. They'd survive—thrive, even—without you."

    I want to shout at him, to demand he stop. I want to say it's not true. But the words lodge in my throat.

    "Look at yourself," he presses on, his tone icy-sweet. "You claim you're some brilliant mage, a cunning con artist, a champion of knowledge. But is there one single crisis you truly prevented? One friend you saved that wouldn't have been saved anyway?"

    There's a roaring in my ears, like a tide rising, threatening to drag me under. My hooves falter; I stagger.

    "They are the Elements of Harmony," Discord croons. "They beat Nightmare Moon, and they will beat me—no matter what you do. So tell me… why are you here?"

    He doesn't expect an answer. He doesn't need one.

    A tremor runs through me. My vision blurs at the edges, and I can't tell if it's the forest spinning or my own mind unraveling.

    "If you never existed," Discord murmurs, "everything would still be okay. They'd find their destiny. They'd form their bonds. They'd be the heroes Equestria needs. You? You're just… background noise."

    I sway on my hooves, a hollow ache radiating through my chest. My heart feels like it's beating too fast, yet I can't muster the will to fight. His words burrow into every insecurity I've ever had.

    "You are an intruder here," he says, quieter now, more intimate. "Deep down, you know it. You can pretend all you like, but you'll never belong."

    A small, desperate part of me whispers that he's manipulating me, that this is how he works. But it's buried under the weight of his accusations—accusations I can't refute.

    "Come now," Discord continues, almost pityingly. "Wouldn't it be easier… if you just left? If you let the real story unfold without your interference? No fuss, no mess—no one else needs to know how much you don't belong."

    I can hear my own ragged breathing, harsh and broken. My legs shake.

    He gives a low, knowing laugh. "Yes… that's it. Don't you see how simple it is? Just… stop."

    And something inside me gives.

    A numbness crawls through my veins, like ice water replacing my blood. My legs slump. My ears droop. I feel heavy.

    I catch a glimpse of my own fur in my peripheral vision. The tan color… fading. Bleeding away into a dull, lifeless grey.

    "Oh, there we go," Discord says, his voice echoing through my skull. "That's more like it."

    All at once, the last flicker of will drains from me, and I collapse onto my haunches, staring blankly ahead. The forest seems colorless, washed out. My mind is… quiet. Heavy. I don't care anymore. He's right. Nothing I've done has made a difference. Nothing I could do would matter.

    I let out a shuddering breath, my vision blurring. I don't even register that my body is changing—until I look down.

    My forelegs—gone. Instead, there are arms. Pale skin, five-fingered hands, trembling. My chest twists with revulsion, but the emotion is distant, muted. In the reflection of a muddied puddle, I see the shape of my old face—human. Eyes shadowed and hollow.

    I drift.

    Not out of the forest.

    Deeper.

    The trees press in, their gnarled limbs like skeletal fingers, clawing at the sky. The world is silent, save for the dull crunch of leaves beneath my feet. I don't think. I don't plan. There is no reason, no motivation, no purpose.

    Just a cold, hollow anger.

    It has no direction, no target, no meaning. It is simply there, simmering beneath my skin, wrapped around my bones like a parasite. I am aware of it, but I do not feel it. Not really.

    I keep walking.

    The darkness thickens. The air becomes damp, heavy, clinging to my skin like an oil slick. The scent of rot festers in the undergrowth, and I know—something is watching me.

    I don't care.

    A noise. A rustling in the distance.

    Then, a shift in the shadows.

    The thing steps forward.

    Its shape is wrong.

    Too many joints, too many limbs. Its body is long, emaciated, draped in sagging flesh, its limbs too spindly, too stretched. Its fingers curl unnaturally, the tips stained a sickly black. Its face—if it has a face—is a featureless expanse of bone-white flesh, save for two cavernous sockets where eyes should be. A mouth—too wide, too gaping—splits open, revealing jagged, uneven teeth.

    The air grows colder. The thing tilts its head, movements twitchy, erratic.

    I meet its empty gaze.

    I should run.

    I do not.

    I stand.

    It moves first.

    Fast.

    A blur of clawed hands, reaching, grasping.

    I don't dodge. I don't plan. I react.

    A scream tears from my throat—not of fear, not of desperation. Just rage.

    Pure, unfiltered hatred.

    I lunge.

    It doesn't expect that.

    My fists collide with its ribs, the sickening crack of impact reverberating through the trees. It staggers—but not far. The thing is fast. Its arm lashes out, a clawed hand raking across my shoulder.

    Pain blossoms.

    I do not care.

    I grab its wrist. Twist. Something snaps.

    It screeches. A high, wailing, unnatural sound.

    It tries to pull away. I do not let it.

    I drive my elbow into its chest. It stumbles. I am already moving. My fist collides with the side of its faceless head, sending it reeling. It does not fall.

    I want it to fall.

    It lashes out again, claws slicing across my side.

    I grab its throat.

    I squeeze.

    Its body thrashes, limbs flailing, talons digging into my skin. I don't let go.

    My grip tightens. I feel cartilage buckle. The thing spasms, its movements growing erratic, desperate.

    I do not stop.

    There is no thought, no hesitation.

    Just pressure.

    Crushing.

    Until the thrashing stops.

    The thing goes limp.

    I drop it.

    The body crumples, twitching once before going still.

    My breath is ragged, heavy. Blood drips from my arms, staining my hands, soaking into my skin. Mine. The creature's. I do not care.

    The forest is silent again.

    My body aches.

    But I don't feel it.

    I look down at my hands. The human hands Discord gave me. They are cracked, bruised, bloodied.

    I stare.

    Then I keep walking.

    Deeper.

    I wander.

    The Everfree stretches, endless, swallowing all light, all warmth. I do not think about direction. I do not think about leaving. I do not think about anything.

    I walk. I fight. I bleed.

    The next creature comes in the dead hush between heartbeats. A thing with too many eyes, gleaming in the dark, its body slithering unnaturally through the undergrowth. It does not hesitate. Neither do I.

    It lunges. I meet it.

    Fangs sink into my forearm. I barely register the pain before I drive my knee into its underbelly. It wails—a horrible, ear-splitting thing—but I do not stop. I wrench its head back, ignoring the wet tearing sensation as its teeth drag through my skin.

    It writhes, snapping, thrashing, desperate.

    I slam it against a tree.

    Once.

    Twice.

    Three times.

    Something crunches. It stops moving.

    I drop the body and move on.

    My vision blurs at the edges, but I do not stop. The forest breathes around me, watching, waiting.

    Something else stirs.

    Long-limbed, hunched, with skin stretched too tight over an emaciated frame. It does not walk. It crawls, jittering, clicking, twitching toward me on twisted joints.

    I let it come.

    Its fingers—long, needle-like—rake across my ribs.

    I grab its wrist.

    It snaps like dry kindling.

    The creature screeches, a wretched, high-pitched cry that sets my skull vibrating. I see the jagged edges of its teeth. It lunges, aiming for my throat.

    I shove my fingers into its mouth.

    I pull.

    There is a wet, awful sound as its jaw separates.

    It doesn't get back up.

    The pain should slow me down. I feel the warmth of my own blood, pooling, dripping, leaking. I ignore it.

    I wander.

    I fight.

    The next one is faster, moving like a broken marionette. Its limbs bend where they shouldn't. It lunges, striking low. Its claws rake my legs. I stagger.

    I do not fall.

    I grab the back of its skull and drive it into the ground.

    The body twitches. I lift its head again.

    I slam it down.

    And again.

    And again.

    Something wet splatters. I feel it on my face, on my hands. I do not stop. I do not think. I do not care.

    The thing stops moving.

    I move on.

    I do not know how long this lasts. Time has no meaning here.

    My body is torn, my breath ragged. My knuckles are raw, split open, bleeding. The pain is distant, unimportant. My body moves because it must.

    The forest watches.

    Waiting.

    I keep walking.

    The forest does not end, but I reach something different.

    Ruins.

    Broken stone, crumbling towers, the skeletal remains of a castle long abandoned. The Castle of the Two Sisters.

    I step through the shattered remains of the entrance, moving without direction. My breath is slow, shallow, my limbs heavy with exhaustion and blood loss, but I move.

    My body aches. My wounds scream. But I do not stop.

    Something draws me deeper.

    I descend broken staircases, moving into the bowels of the ruin. Darkness presses in, thick and unmoving, but I do not care. My feet find the path, following something unseen, something pulling me toward it.

    Then I see it.

    On the ground, next to a platform, forgotten, sits a single stone sphere, cracked, lifeless.

    The Seventh Element.

    The one that never awakened. The one that had no bearer.

    The one I left behind.

    I stare at it, my breath coming slow, my chest hollow and heavy.

    Then, I reach out.

    My fingers graze its surface—rough, cold, dead.

    Nothing happens.

    No light. No energy. No warmth.

    Just stone.

    It should feel meaningless. It shouldn't matter.

    But something inside me twists, ugly and raw.

    I pick it up.

    It is heavy in my hands, heavier than a dead thing has any right to be.

    My grip tightens. My breath shudders. A sick, clawing need coils in my chest, curling around my ribs like a parasite.

    Give it to me.

    I want it.

    I want it to work.

    I want it to do something.

    I clutch the stone tighter, as if I can force it to awaken, as if I can demand it to give me power, purpose, meaning.

    It does not respond.

    Nothing changes.

    Nothing ever changes.

    My fingers dig into the rough edges, the cracks beneath my grip. My body shakes with rage.

    I deserve this.

    I need this.

    But the stone does not care.

    Because Discord was right.

    I am nothing.

    I was never meant to be here.

    And nothing I do will ever change that.

    Still, I do not let go.

    I clutch the useless, lifeless thing, holding it close like a wretched, starving creature hoarding scraps of food.

    A thought slithers into my mind.

    A sick, wretched, perfect thought.

    If I don't matter…

    If I shouldn't be here…

    Then what's the best way to exit stage left?

    I exhale slowly, feeling the weight of the stone in my grasp. Cold. Lifeless. Just like me.

    Discord's words churn in my skull, sinking into the marrow of my bones.

    I am an intrusion.

    An out-of-place thing in a story that doesn't need me.

    Nothing I have done has mattered.

    Nothing I could do will change anything.

    But there is something left.

    If I am a monster—

    Well.

    I know ponies who fight monsters.

    The thought coils tight, insidious, logical.

    I let out a slow, shaking breath. The grip on the Seventh Element tightens until my knuckles ache.

    The answer is so simple.

    It makes sense.

    I have spent so long trying to fit, to belong, but if I can't—if I was never supposed to—then what else is left?

    They will come.

    Of course they will.

    They always do.

    They'll stop me.

    And then, finally, the story can move forward without me in it.

    I take one step back.

    Then another.

    The castle walls loom around me, but I do not feel their weight.

    I have a plan.

    For the first time since Discord spoke, I feel… something.

    A bitter, twisted sense of purpose.

    I turn, the Seventh Element clutched in my hands, and walk out into the night.

    I trudge through the Everfree, the broken stones of the castle disappearing behind me. My body aches, torn and battered, my mind is numb, but I move. Step after step.

    The trees begin to thin. The air grows lighter.

    And then, finally, I reach the edge of Ponyville.

    And it is normal.

    No cotton candy clouds. No chocolate rain. No shifting, chaotic nonsense.

    The houses stand as they always have, lights glowing warmly against the night. Ponies move through the streets, chatting, laughing.

    They won.

    Of course they did.

    The story is back on track.

    I was never needed.

    I tighten my grip on the stone.

    No one notices me at first.

    Why would they?

    I'm not a pony anymore.

    I'm nothing they recognize.

    A shadow, a shape in the dark.

    Then, a filly—one I vaguely remember, a face in the background of a town that was never mine—spots me.

    She freezes. Her eyes go wide.

    I take a step forward.

    She stumbles back, hooves scraping against the cobblestone.

    A stallion turns, following her gaze. Then another. Then more.

    The hum of conversation fades. A ripple of silence spreads through the streets.

    I see their ears pin back, their tails twitch.

    Fear.

    They don't know what I am.

    And I don't correct them.

    I let my shoulders hunch, my posture sag. My fingers twitch at my sides. A ragged breath shudders through me, my chest rising and falling unevenly.

    Then I scream.

    It is not a word, not a sound of reason or restraint. It is a howl, a raw, jagged explosion of rage and agony tearing from my throat. It echoes through the town, rattling windows, sending ponies scrambling.

    They run.

    I lurch forward, shambling, limbs unsteady, like some nightmare dragged from the depths of the Everfree. My breath rasps, deep and uneven, every exhale a growl. My body is torn, my skin slick with blood—some mine, some not—and I do not care.

    A stallion stumbles over his own hooves, trying to get away. I slam my foot down on the cobblestone, the impact ringing loud, sharp, wrong. My fingers flex at my sides, twitching, curling, hungry.

    Let them be afraid.

    Let them see me.

    A cart overturns as a mare shrieks, yanking her foal away. A stallion calls out for somepony—anypony—to get the guard.

    Good.

    Panic rolls through the crowd, a tide of gasps and cries and hooves pounding against the ground. A mare trips, scrambling to right herself, her eyes locked on me with wild, white-rimmed terror.

    I move.

    I lunge—not toward her, not toward anything in particular—just a sudden, violent movement, a snap of motion too quick, too unnatural.

    She screams.

    They all do.

    The streets empty fast, ponies ducking into their homes, slamming doors, locking windows.

    I hear somepony ring a bell. An alarm.

    The guards will come.

    But that's not who I want.

    I want them.

    The ones who fight monsters.

    The ones who fix things.

    The ones who always win.

    I throw back my head and roar again, louder, a bellowing challenge that shakes the air. My throat burns, but I do not care.

    Come and stop me.

    Come and fix this.

    Come and end me.

    I wait.

    I stand in the center of the street, hunched, bloodied, breathing.

    Waiting.

    For the heroes.

    They arrive.

    The heroes.

    I hear them before I see them, galloping hooves, the clatter of metal, the hum of magic ready to fire. Then, they round the corner, and there they are. The Elements of Harmony, standing tall, looking right at me.

    Their eyes widen.

    I see the calculations flickering through their minds, the way their stances shift. They see my shape, my bloodied form, the raw, ragged thing that stands in the street, panting like some rabid beast.

    They see a monster.

    Good.

    "Who—what is that?" Rainbow Dash says, wings flaring as she hovers above the others.

    "I—I dunno," Applejack mutters, adjusting her stance. "But look at 'im. He's covered in blood."

    Fluttershy makes a strangled sound. Rarity takes a cautious step back. Pinkie Pie doesn't bounce, doesn't smile. She just stares.

    And Twilight—Twilight narrows her eyes. "Are you one of Discord's?"

    The accusation rolls over me, meaningless. My breath rattles in my chest.

    They don't know me.

    Of course they don't.

    They were never supposed to.

    Twilight steps forward, caution in her every movement. "Listen," she says, slow, deliberate, like she's speaking to a cornered animal. "We can help you. Just—tell us what happened."

    I don't answer.

    I don't think.

    I lunge.

    Twilight barely has time to teleport back before my fist cracks the ground where she stood.

    Rainbow reacts first. "Okay, nope, I knew it was evil!"

    The others brace, ready to fight.

    Twilight's horn glows. "If you're discord's... Where is Kinetic Flux?" she demands.

    My body locks.

    The name slices through me, jagged and cruel.

    I tighten my grip on the Seventh Element. My chest heaves. My jaw clenches so hard my teeth ache.

    I don't answer.

    I charge.

    A burst of magic slams into me—Twilight's, no doubt—but it barely registers. I barrel forward. The world narrows, sharpening into one singular objective.

    Twilight fixes things.

    Twilight solves problems.

    So why is she letting me exist?

    I catch her.

    The others shout—Rainbow dives at me, Applejack surges forward—but I grab Twilight first. My fingers lock around her throat, my weight slamming her into the cobblestone.

    The wind rushes from her lungs.

    "Twilight!" Fluttershy cries.

    The others move.

    I press down.

    Her hooves scramble against me, magic flickering at her horn, but I'm too close.

    "Useless," I snarl, voice raw and jagged. "Useless!"

    Her eyes widen.

    The others are shouting, moving, reacting—Applejack rams into me, Rainbow kicks—but I don't let go.

    I lean in, voice breaking with something beyond rage.

    "Twilight!" I roar. "Fix this! Make it stop!"

    She struggles, hooves pressing against me. "How do you know my name?!"

    Everything stops.

    The question crashes over me like a wave, shattering through the haze of fury.

    I blink.

    Her eyes—those too-wide, too-veiny, too-pony eyes—are looking at me with something new.

    Not fear. Not anger.

    Recognition trying to form.

    As if, for the first time, she's actually seeing me.

    The moment I falter, they take their chance.

    A body slams into me—Applejack, her strength raw and unrelenting. I stagger, but then Rainbow Dash is on me too, driving a hoof into my side, forcing me down. My Element falls from my grasp, rolling away .

    I roar, thrashing, fighting—but there's magic, thick and crushing, pressing down. Twilight's aura wraps around the dirt around me, locking my limbs, pinning me to the cold cobblestone.

    I struggle. I twist, wrenching against their grip, but I can't move. The weight is suffocating.

    Twilight gasps for air, clutching at her throat as she regains herself, her horn blazing. She takes a step forward, her expression torn between fury and confusion. "What—who are you?"

    I snarl, baring my teeth. "Let me go."

    "Not happening," Rainbow spits. "You just tried to kill Twilight!"

    "You attacked us first!" Applejack growls, tightening the ropes she's already wrapped around my arms. "Ah don't know what you are, but you better start talkin'."

    Twilight steps closer, her eyes burning into me. "You know me." She isn't asking. She's stating. "You knew my name."

    I don't answer.

    Because if I speak it will be the truth.

    And the truth is a weight I don't know if I can bear.

    She leans in. "Who are you?"

    I breathe heavily, my chest heaving against the ropes, against the magic, against the crushing weight of everything.

    I should lie.

    Tell them I'm some leftover of Discord, some stray monster from the Everfree.

    But the words I want don't come.

    "My name is John."

    The words leave me like a dying breath.

    Silence.

    The pressure in the air shifts. The magic stills.

    Twilight stares. "John?" she repeats, like she doesn't understand the shape of it.

    Applejack and Rainbow exchange glances.

    Rarity speaks next, hesitant. "That's… not a pony's name."

    "No," I murmur. "It's not."

    Twilight's eyes search my face, her mind racing, connecting dots that shouldn't be there. "You know us. You knew my name. Who—what are you?"

    I don't answer.

    Not because I don't have one.

    Because I don't want to give it.

    Because if I say it—if I admit it—then it's real.

    I stare at the ground, my breath heavy, ragged. The ropes bite into my skin, the magic pressing against my ribs, my arms, my throat.

    They are waiting.

    They want something from me. Something I don't have.

    Something I don't want to have.

    Twilight shifts closer. "John." My name sounds wrong in her mouth. Too careful. Too delicate. She looks at me like she's trying to see through me, like she's peeling back my skin to find the truth underneath.

    I feel my lip curl.

    "What do you want from me?" I growl.

    Her ears flick back. "Answers!" she snaps, frustration breaking through. "You showed up in Ponyville looking like some kind of monster! You knew my name, you knew all of us, but I've never seen you before in my life!" Her horn pulses, flickering with restrained power. "Who. Are. You?"

    I laugh.

    It's not a nice laugh. It's not anything.

    "I told you," I rasp. "John."

    "That's not what I meant!"

    I grit my teeth, eyes locking onto hers. "I know what you meant."

    The others are tense. Rainbow hovers just above, her muscles wound tight, ready to move. Applejack has the rope in her hooves, knotted and firm. Fluttershy is frozen, wide-eyed, wings half-spread.

    Twilight's jaw tightens. "Where is Kinetic Flux?"

    Something inside me snaps.

    "Gone!" I snarl, lunging forward against my restraints. The ropes pull, the magic burns, but I don't care. "He's gone! He was never real to begin with!"

    The words echo in the street, bouncing off stone and glass and wood.

    Silence.

    I see it sink in.

    I see it register.

    Twilight's breath catches. "What… what are you saying?"

    I hate this.

    I hate how they're looking at me. Like they're confused, like they almost understand, like they might reach out and pull at the threads.

    I let out a slow, shuddering breath, my head tilting forward, the weight of everything pressing down. The ropes, the magic, the expectation.

    "You want the truth?" I murmur, voice low and ragged. "After all this time, Twilight, after all the pushing, the prodding, the suspicion—you finally want the truth?"

    She doesn't move.

    None of them do.

    They're waiting. Listening.

    I lift my head, my lips curling into something that isn't a smile, isn't a snarl—just teeth.

    "Kinetic Flux was never real," I say again, slower this time, letting the words sink in. "He was who I needed to be for you. For all of you." My voice cracks, but I don't stop. "He was the mage you expected, the charlatan who played the part, the puzzle piece forced into a place he was never meant to fit."

    Twilight's jaw tightens. "That—That doesn't—"

    I laugh, sharp and humorless. "Doesn't make sense?" I finish for her. "Yeah, well, welcome to my life, Sparkle. I spent weeks—months—pretending, performing, just to keep up with your expectations. And for what?" I yank against the restraints, the fibers burning into my skin. "For what, Twilight?"

    She flinches.

    I lean forward, voice dropping to something sharp, something poisonous.

    "You wanted the truth," I whisper, my breath ragged, my vision dark at the edges. "So tell me… does it taste as good as you thought it would?"

    Her pupils shrink, her mouth opening slightly—then closing, words dying before they can form.

    The others shift uncomfortably. I can feel them trying to process, trying to understand.

    I give them nothing.

    I just breathe. Heavy. Hollow.

    The silence stretches.

    Then, Twilight whispers, "Why?"

    I let out a slow, bitter breath, my fingers curling into the dirt beneath me, nails biting into the cold stone. My whole body shakes—not from fear, not from exhaustion, but from the sheer weight of it all. The truth, finally dragging itself into the light, heavy and cruel.

    "Look at me," I rasp, voice raw, broken. "Really look at me, Twilight."

    She does. They all do.

    I see the horror creeping in at the edges of their expressions, the quiet, uneasy realization that the thing tied before them—the thing—isn't just a monster from the Everfree, isn't some remnant of Discord's chaos.

    It's something worse.

    Something they knew.

    Something that lied.

    I laugh, sharp and ragged. Not because it's funny. Because it's pathetic.

    "Do you get it now?" My voice cracks, but I don't stop. "Unlovable. Ugly. Shameful." My fingers curl tighter, my nails digging deep into my palms. "How could I exist in your orbit? How could I stand next to you, next to any of you, and pretend I belonged?"

    Twilight doesn't look away. Her face is a storm of emotions—confusion, hurt, understanding. I hate it.

    I hate that she looks like she understands.

    Because she doesn't.

    None of them do.

    I grit my teeth, my body trembling against the restraints, against the pressure in my chest, against the suffocating reality of my own words. "I was never meant to be here. I was never meant to be part of your story, your magic, your perfect little world!" My breath shudders. "I was just a mistake that never got erased!"

    Twilight flinches.

    But I don't stop.

    "You think I wanted this?" My voice is raw now, fraying at the edges. "You think I wanted to be the freak? The thing that doesn't fit?" My breath is short, my vision narrowing. "I faked it. Every single day, I faked it, because it was better than this—better than being a ghost in someone else's life, better than being some… some—thing to be pitied!"

    Twilight's eyes widen. "John—"

    I snarl, yanking hard at the ropes, my breath ragged. "Don't say my name like you care!"

    She recoils.

    The others tense.

    I burn.

    I am rage. I am frustration. I am a deep, seething hatred at everything, at myself, at the universe for letting me exist like this.

    And then she does the one thing I hate more than anything.

    She hugs me.

    The world tilts.

    I freeze.

    Her hooves wrap around me, firm, solid, wrong.

    I can't breathe.

    I hate this.

    I hate that she's touching me, that she's holding me like I'm something worth holding.

    My body jerks on instinct, trying to wrench away, but the restraints hold me still. I thrash, desperate to escape, but she doesn't let go.

    She just holds on tighter.

    "Stop," I rasp, my breath shaking. "Stop pitying me."

    "I'm not," Twilight says, and her voice isn't soft—it's stubborn, like she's refusing to let me break apart.

    I shake my head, my whole body trembling. "You don't get to do this, Twilight. You don't get to act like I'm something that matters."

    She presses her forehead against my shoulder. "You do."

    I want to scream.

    I want to tear free.

    I grit my teeth, every fiber of my being screaming against this.

    Against her.

    Against the warmth pressing into me, the steady weight of her holding on like she can keep me from slipping through the cracks.

    I hate it.

    I hate that it's working.

    "Let me go," I growl, my voice ragged, but the fight is already bleeding out of me, slow and reluctant.

    "No," Twilight says, unwavering.

    My breath stutters. "You don't even know me."

    "I do," she insists, gripping me tighter. "I know you hate mornings and you're awful at organizing. I know you pretend to be irritated when ponies bring you food, but you eat it anyway. I know you complain about magic, but you love showing off with it. I know you—Kinetic—have been frustrating, infuriating, and completely ridiculous since the moment I met you, but you are not nothing!"

    My fingers twitch, curling into weak fists against my will.

    I shake my head, but the motion feels sluggish, my breath shallow. "I—I was never supposed to be here."

    Twilight doesn't hesitate. "But you are here. And I don't care if you weren't 'meant to be'—that doesn't mean you don't belong."

    I squeeze my eyes shut, my breath coming in shallow gasps.

    "You don't need me," I mutter, voice thin, fraying at the edges. "You did it all without me. The Elements. Luna. Discord." My fingers twitch against the ropes, my body sagging as the last of my anger bleeds into something else, something hollow. "Nothing I did ever mattered."

    Twilight doesn't let go. She doesn't step back, doesn't loosen her hold. She just presses closer, like she can force me to hear her heartbeat, to feel her words.

    "But we want you."

    My breath hitches.

    I go still.

    Twilight's grip tightens. "You think it's about needing you? That if the story could go on without you, it should?" She shakes her head, and I can feel her frustration, her stubbornness seeping into every word. "That's not how this works, Kinetic."

    I flinch at the name.

    She uses it anyway.

    "Kinetic, you think we would have been fine without you? Maybe we would have. Maybe everything would've played out the same. Maybe." She pulls back just enough to meet my eyes, her expression fierce. "But I don't want to know what that world looks like."

    Something cracks in my chest.

    I can't breathe.

    She searches my face, her expression raw. "You matter because you matter to us," she says, firm and unyielding. "Because you're our Kinetic Flux. Our impossible, infuriating, obnoxious Archmage." Her mouth quirks, small, barely there. "And whether you like it or not, you do belong here."

    I stare at her.

    My fingers, still clenched into fists, loosen.

    I feel something. It's distant, weak, like the warmth of a sun long forgotten. It curls around my ribs, settles into the hollow spaces Discord left behind.

    Something in me… shifts.

    The gray in my hands flickers.

    Twilight watches, eyes flicking over me, taking in the way the dull, washed-out color of my skin starts to warm. It's slow—cautious—like the universe itself isn't sure if it should happen.

    I watch, numb, as the color bleeds back into my fingers, up my arms, sinking into my skin like ink spilled into water.

    My hands aren't hands anymore.

    I flex my hoof. My hoof.

    I stare at the tan fur creeping back up my legs, the messy blonde strands of mane falling into my face.

    The ropes around me slacken, Twilight's magic dimming as she watches me with something hesitant, something waiting.

    I sit there, still reeling, still trying to process everything that just happened—everything I just said.

    And then the realization hits me like a brick to the face.

    Oh.

    Oh no.

    I said all that out loud.

    In front of everyone.

    My ears flatten, my face burning with the full, horrifying weight of what just transpired. The raw confessions, the melodramatic existential crisis, the way I screamed my own name like some tragic protagonist in a bad novel—

    Dear Celestia, I'm never going to live this down.

    Twilight is still looking at me with those big, earnest, overly sympathetic eyes, like she's seeing something fragile in me that I really don't want her to see. They all stare.

    They just look… sad.

    Like they pity me.

    Like I'm broken.

    I need to salvage this.

    I need to get that look off their faces immediately.

    I clear my throat, sitting up straighter, brushing imaginary dust off my very much still bloodstained coat. I flash a very forced, very awkward grin.

    "Well. That was dramatic."

    Twilight flinches. Just slightly. Not enough for most ponies to notice. But I do.

    "...What?" she asks, her voice softer than before.

    I wave a hoof lazily. "You know, the whole self-loathing monologue, the color-draining despair arc, the big hug-based redemption moment—classic stuff." I sigh, stretching my limbs like this is all a big joke. "Honestly, I give it a solid eight out of ten. Could've used more subtlety, but I am known for my flair for the theatrical."

    Rainbow lets out a laugh, but it's hollow. Like she's forcing it. "Dude."

    Twilight scowls. Not angry—hurt. "Are you serious right now?"

    "Absolutely not." I brush my mane back, regaining exactly zero of my dignity. "I am an Archmage, Twilight, I do not have feelings, I have calculated responses to environmental stimuli."

    She exhales sharply, shaking her head. "That's not funny."

    "Sure it is." I smirk. "In a darkly ironic sort of way. Which is my entire brand, so, really, you should have seen this coming."

    "Why are you like this?" she mutters.

    "Because it makes things easier," I reply without thinking.

    The silence that follows is heavy.

    Applejack looks down, like she's trying to choose her words carefully. "Sugarcube..."

    "Nope," I say, cutting her off before she can do the voice. That slow, gentle, 'I'm worried about you' voice. I hate that voice.

    Fluttershy is looking at me with so much sadness that I physically recoil. "It's okay to feel sad," she says softly, like she's speaking to a wounded animal.

    "Pass," I say immediately. "Hard pass. I prefer to keep things bottled up, where they belong, like a perfectly normal, well-adjusted pony."

    Pinkie sniffles. "That's not normal at all!"

    "Debatable!" I shoot back.

    Rarity frowns, her expression unusually serious. "Darling, you don't have to—"

    "Oh, look at that, we're out of time!" I stand up abruptly, stretching my legs. "This has been lovely, truly, but I really must be going."

    I bolt    .

    Not a polite exit, not a casual departure—I turn and run.

    "Hey—!" Twilight starts, but I'm already gone, hooves pounding against the cobblestone as I book it down the street.

    I don't do feelings.

    I don't do talking about things.

    I especially don't do group interventions on my well-being.

    Nope. Absolutely not.

    The wind rushes past me, the cool night air biting against my still-dried-blood-covered coat. The town is mostly empty now, ponies having long since retreated indoors after my earlier performance, and thank Celestia for that—if any of them were still outside, they'd see their esteemed Archmage fleeing the Elements of Harmony like a spooked cat.

    I turn a corner, my house finally coming into view, and I slam into my door, fumbling with the key before throwing it open.

    The moment I'm inside, I shove it shut behind me, locking it and pressing my back against the wood. My chest rises and falls rapidly, my heart pounding against my ribs.

    Silence.

    I listen.

    No hoofsteps. No shouting.

    No Twilight bursting through the door demanding I talk about my feelings.

    I let out a long, shuddering breath.

    Safe.

    For now.

    I peel myself off the door, rubbing my face with a shaky hoof. My entire body feels wrung out, like I've just gone ten rounds in an arena I wasn't prepared for.

    Because, well… I wasn't.

    I groan, dragging myself to the kitchen, where my stolen desserts still sit under the glass cloche. I lift it with my magic, grab a tart, and shove it into my mouth.

    Sweets solve everything.

    Probably.

    I don't actually taste it. My mind is still racing, replaying everything, every single humiliating second of what just happened.

    I was weak. I let myself break. I said things—horrible, personal, painfully honest things.

    And Twilight…

    She wouldn't let me take it back.

    I squeeze my eyes shut, the weight of her words pressing in again.

    "But we want you."

    I shake my head sharply. No. No, I can't let that stick. That way leads to more feelings, more talking, more acknowledging things.

    I shove another pastry in my mouth.

    Everything is fine.

    Everything is back to normal.

    I just need to lay low, let this whole thing blow over, and—

    Knock knock knock.

    I freeze.

    The sound echoes through the house, muffled but insistent.

    My stomach drops.

    I don't need to open the door to know who it is.

    I groan, slamming my head against the counter.

    Of course.

    Of course she followed me.
     
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    • Knock knock knock.

    I don't move.

    I don't breathe.

    If I stay perfectly still, maybe she'll think I'm not here. Maybe she'll go away.

    I squeeze my eyes shut, willing the universe to give me this one mercy.

    Another knock. "Kinetic." Twilight's voice is muffled through the door, but I can hear the stubborn edge in it. "I know you ran home. Open up."

    I remain silent.

    She sighs. "Okay, maybe you're not here. Maybe you ran off into the Everfree again, or maybe you're sulking in some alley. But just in case—"

    She knocks again, firmer this time. "I'm not leaving."

    I stare at the door like it personally betrayed me.

    I don't move.

    I will not move.

    Seconds stretch into minutes. Maybe if I wait her out, she'll get bored.

    Twilight never gets bored.

    "You do realize I can teleport inside, right?"

    I jerk upright. "You wouldn't dare."

    Damn it.

    The words are out before I can stop them.

    I hear her smirk. "Oh, so you are in there."

    I groan, dragging my hooves down my face. "Twilight, for the love of Celestia, go away."

    "No."

    I bang my head against the counter again. "Why are you like this?"

    "Why are you like this?" she fires back, way too quick. "You ran off instead of talking like a normal pony."

    "I don't do feelings, Twilight. You of all ponies should know this by now."

    "Too bad." She knocks again. "I refuse to let you rot in there all night just because you embarrassed yourself."

    "I am not embarrassed," I lie.

    "Oh, you're completely embarrassed," she counters. "You said deep, personal things, had a massive identity crisis, let me hug you—"

    "Don't bring up the hug."

    "—and now you're hiding in your house like a foal."

    "I am not hiding!" I absolutely am. "I am choosing to avoid unnecessary interaction."

    "So hiding," she says flatly.

    I scowl at the door. "What do you want, Twilight?"

    "I want you to come outside and actually talk to me."

    "Not happening."

    "Then I'll just stay here."

    I groan. "Twilight."

    "Kinetic."

    I rub my temples, letting out a slow breath. "You really have nothing better to do?"

    "Not really."

    I drag a hoof down my face.

    She's serious.

    She's really going to stand outside my house all night just to make a point.

    I sigh dramatically, leaning back against the counter. "Twilight, you standing outside my house all night isn't going to change anything."

    "Maybe not," she says, far too casual. "But it sure is inconvenient for you, isn't it?"

    I grit my teeth. "Are you enjoying this?"

    "Immensely."

    "Of course you are."

    She knocks again. "Hey, serious question."

    "Doubtful."

    "Your injuries—" she pauses, as if choosing her words carefully. "—when you were, uh, like that. Are they gone?"

    I blink.

    That actually makes me hesitate.

    Because… I don't know.

    I remember the fights, the claw marks, the bruises—back when I wasn't this. Back when I was human, twisted by Discord's corruption, wandering the Everfree with nothing but anger and pain.

    When I changed back… I didn't check.

    I glance down at myself, at my hooves, my coat, the familiar shape of me. It feels like it's all gone, but…

    What if it's not?

    "…I think so?" I say, hesitantly. "I haven't really looked."

    Twilight hums. "You should probably check."

    I frown. "I'll do it later."

    "Or," she says, "you could open the door and let me check, just to be sure."

    I scowl at the door. "Nice try, Sparkle."

    "Oh, come on," she whines. "You wouldn't want to suddenly collapse from internal injuries, would you?"

    "I'm fine."

    "Kinetic, I saw what you looked like. You were practically dripping blood, and I don't know how that transformation works—maybe it didn't heal everything."

    I hesitate.

    Twilight is annoyingly thorough about things like this. And if there is some remnant of damage left behind…

    "…Just for a second," I mutter, unlocking the door with my magic. "Then you leave me alone."

    "Of course," she says sweetly.

    The moment I crack the door open, I realize my mistake.

    Because I see them.

    All of them.

    Applejack. Rainbow. Pinkie. Rarity. Fluttershy.

    Standing just outside the door.

    Waiting.

    My eyes widen. "You—"

    They pounce.

    "Oh, son of a—!"

    I hit the floor in a tangle of hooves and magic, Twilight's holding the door open, Applejack's rope already wrapping tight.

    "GOTCHA!" Rainbow crows triumphantly.

    "I trusted you!" I snarl, thrashing, but Applejack's already yanking the rope tight.

    Twilight smirks, stepping over me. "I told you to open the door. You just didn't ask if I was alone."

    I scream internally.

    I walked right into that one.

    Pinkie grins, looming over me. "Now that we have you, mister, you're gonna talk."

    "I refuse to participate in this interrogation!" I shout, struggling.

    "Oh, hush," Rarity says, adjusting her mane. "We just want to help."

    "Help me by letting me go!"

    Fluttershy, ever the quiet one, tilts her head. "…No."

    I groan, flopping dramatically against the floor, my hooves still tied. "I demand a lawyer."

    Twilight rolls her eyes. "You're not on trial, Kinetic."

    "Feels like I am," I grumble.

    Applejack sighs, tightening the rope slightly just to make a point. "We just wanna talk, sugarcube. You ain't exactly been honest with us."

    I raise a brow. "Oh, the irony."

    Rainbow crosses her hooves. "So? What even are you?"

    I shift slightly, my ears flicking back. "You already saw what I was."

    "Yeah, but what is it?" Rainbow presses. "You had—" she makes a vague motion with her hooves, "—those weird paws, that weird face, and no fur except for that scraggly mane. You looked naked!"

    I grimace. "Great, thanks for that mental image."

    "Rainbow," Twilight sighs. "Let's focus."

    She turns back to me, serious now. "You said your name was John. That Kinetic Flux was just… what? A disguise?"

    I glance away, ears twitching. "Something like that."

    Pinkie tilts her head. "So, you weren't born a pony?"

    I exhale through my nose. "No."

    Fluttershy frowns, her wings twitching. "But you've been a pony all this time?"

    I nod. "Since I got here."

    Rarity hums, studying me carefully. "And just where is 'here'?"

    I don't answer immediately. Instead, I glance down at my hooves, flexing them slightly as if expecting them to change again.

    I don't want to answer.

    I don't want to talk about it.

    Because talking means acknowledging, and acknowledging means dealing with it.

    And I refuse to deal with it.

    So I do what I do best. I redirect.

    "Look, is this really important?" I say, shifting slightly against the ropes. "What I was doesn't change what I am now."

    Twilight narrows her eyes. "What you are now is a pony who had a breakdown, ran into the Everfree, turned into a mystery creature, tried to pick a fight with us, and then immediately ran away when things got emotional."

    I scowl. "Oh wow, what a neat little summary."

    Applejack nudges the rope. "She ain't wrong."

    I roll my eyes. "Look, I repeat, "why does it matter? What's done is done. We stopped Discord, everything's fine, and I'm back to normal."

    Twilight steps forward, eyes sharp. "But are you?"

    I freeze.

    Just for a second.

    Twilight sees it.

    Her expression softens, just barely. "Kinetic," she says, quieter now, "are you really okay?"

    I plaster on a grin. "Obviously."

    "Yer lyin'," Applejack mutters.

    "No, I'm not."

    "Yes, ya are."

    "No, I—"

    Twilight sighs, rubbing her temples. "Kinetic, we're not just going to drop this. We care about you."

    I scoff, looking away. "Truly, a tragedy."

    "Enough with the jokes!" she snaps, suddenly frustrated. "You almost died! You turned into something else entirely! And now you're acting like it didn't even happen!"

    I don't answer.

    Because what am I supposed to say?

    That she's right?

    That every moment of it is burned into my skull? That I can still feel the weight of Discord's words crawling under my skin? That I hate how easily my mind twisted itself against me?

    No.

    Absolutely not.

    So instead, I sigh loudly, tilting my head back. "Alright, fine, let's make this easy: what do you actually want from me?"

    Twilight crosses her hooves. "I want to understand what happened to you."

    "We all do," Rarity adds.

    I shrug. "Got corrupted by Discord. Happens to the best of us."

    Twilight's eye twitches. "Kinetic."

    I huff. "Look, you saw the gray. The color-drain, the mood-ruining despair—classic chaos magic stuff. He got inside my head, flipped all the switches, and bam, instant identity crisis. Happens all the time, I assume."

    Twilight narrows her eyes. "How did he do it?"

    I blink. "Do what?"

    "Get inside your head," she presses. "Discord's corruption doesn't just happen. He has to break you down first. He has to get you to doubt yourself."

    I scoff. "Oh, so you're an expert on chaos magic now?"

    Twilight doesn't flinch. "I know what it looks like."

    The air feels heavier for a moment, like the conversation just took a step too far into dangerous territory. I feel my own muscles tense, my pulse quicken.

    She's right, of course.

    Discord doesn't just take you.

    He gets in.

    He talks.

    And I let him talk.

    I shake my head, forcing a smirk. "Oh, come on, Twilight, does it really matter? The important part is that you rainbow-blasted the problem away, and here I am, back to my usual, handsome self."

    She doesn't buy it.

    None of them do.

    Twilight exhales sharply. "Kinetic—"

    I grin sharply. "You really wanna play this game?"

    Her eyes narrow slightly.

    I push forward.

    "Fine. Let's make it fair." I glance at all of them, taking my time. "How about you tell me what he did to you first?"

    The shift in the room is immediate.

    Rainbow stiffens. Applejack's jaw tightens. Pinkie's ears flick back, barely perceptible. Fluttershy looks down, and Rarity's expression wavers.

    I watch it all, and I grin wider.

    "Bingo."

    Twilight flinches, just slightly, before she scowls. "That's not the same."

    I laugh, shaking my head. "Oh, but it is the same, Sparkle. You think you can press me for details, but the second I turn it back on you, suddenly it's different? That's not how this works."

    Twilight doesn't back down. "How did you know?" she demands. "How did you know he did that to us too?"

    I scoff, rolling my eyes. "Please. You all look shaken up—even Rainbow, who's usually too proud to let things show." I tilt my head mockingly. "And if I got hit with the classic mind games, it's not exactly a stretch to assume he did the same to you." I raise a brow. "What? You thought you were special? That he tailored his whole routine just for you?"

    Twilight scowls. "You're deflecting."

    I smirk. "And you're avoiding the question."

    Applejack huffs. "We ain't the ones actin' like this conversation don't matter."

    I shrug against my restraints. "Yeah, well, I prefer not to dwell on existential crises and personal breakdowns, unlike some ponies." I give Twilight a pointed look.

    Her ears twitch. "We need to understand what happened, Kinetic."

    "Why?" I ask, exasperated. "So you can analyze it? Write a friendship report on it?" I scoff. "News flash, Sparkle—it happened. It sucked. I got over it. End of story."

    She doesn't back down. "That's not how this works. If we don't talk about what happened, how do we know you're actually okay?"

    I snort. "Wow, it's almost like you don't know, and that should be ok."

    She glares. "Kinetic."

    I glare right back. "Twilight."

    We stare each other down.

    The others are dead silent, watching like this is a tennis match of sheer stubbornness.

    I sigh loudly, leaning my head back against the floor. "Look, let's just agree to disagree on how much self-reflection is actually necessary, and I'll go back to my very normal, well-adjusted life."

    "You live in a house that doesn't follow Euclidean geometry and forget to buy soap."

    "Details."

    Twilight groans, rubbing her temples. "Kinetic, please."

    I raise a brow. "Why do you care so much?"

    That makes her pause.

    Just for a second.

    I smirk. "See? You don't even know, do you?"

    Her jaw tightens. "That's not the point."

    I shrug. "Feels like the point."

    Applejack lets out a tired sigh. "So what, you're just gonna dodge us 'til we get tired and let ya go?"

    "Yes," I say flatly.

    Rainbow groans. "Ugh, he's so annoying."

    "Finally, somepony understands my appeal." I grin, but it doesn't quite reach my eyes.

    Twilight watches me carefully, expression unreadable.

    She's thinking.

    I don't like it when she thinks.

    She exhales, slow and measured. "Fine," she finally says, stepping back.

    I blink. "...What?"

    She nods to Applejack, and suddenly the rope around me loosens.

    I tense.

    This feels like a trick.

    Twilight just looks at me, something unreadable behind her eyes. "Go, then."

    I hesitate.

    Because that's not what I expected.

    My hooves twitch, instinct screaming at me to run, but…

    Why does this feel worse?

    Why does it feel like she just let something go?

    I don't like this.

    I don't like this at all.

    The others hesitate. Applejack's brow furrows, her grip still firm on the rope. "Twilight, what're ya doin'? We got 'im right here."

    Rainbow flares her wings. "Yeah! If we let him go, he's just gonna keep dodging everything!"

    Pinkie's ears droop. "Are we really just leaving?"

    Twilight doesn't answer. She just looks at me for a moment longer, her expression unreadable, then turns on her hoof and starts walking away.

    The others hesitate, but after a beat, they follow.

    I scoff, watching them go. "Oh, so that's it? Just giving up?"

    No answer.

    "What happened to all that determination, Sparkle?" I taunt, but my voice feels off, like I'm not quite sure why I'm still talking. "You don't wanna analyze me anymore? No detailed report on my psychological state?"

    Still, nothing.

    I let out a sharp laugh, shifting where I sit. "Wow. Didn't think you were the type to quit."

    Twilight keeps walking.

    I can hear their hooves against the dirt, the way they slow, like maybe they want to turn back, but Twilight stays steady. And they follow her.

    The knot in my chest tightens.

    This isn't how this was supposed to go.

    I was supposed to be the one walking away, the one shutting the door, the one deciding when the conversation ended.

    Not her.

    Not them.

    I push myself up, my hooves still unsteady. "You're just gonna leave? Just like that?"

    Nothing.

    Twilight doesn't even glance back.

    I feel something ugly rise in my throat, something sharp and too real. I shove it down, forcing a grin that no one's even looking at. "Fine. Great talk, everypony. Real productive!"

    Still, no response.

    They round the corner.

    They're gone.

    I exhale sharply, shoving the door open with more force than necessary and slamming it behind me.

    The house is silent.

    Too silent.

    I pace, ears flicking, tail lashing. My thoughts are a jumbled mess of irritation and something I don't want to name.

    I won.

    Didn't I?

    I didn't have to talk. I didn't have to explain. I didn't have to do anything.

    So why does this feel like a loss?

    I shake my head, stomping over to my bed and flopping down. The silence is wrong. I don't like it.

    But I'm tired.

    I shut my eyes.

    It still bugs me.

    It bugs me until I sleep.

    I wake up groggy, the remnants of uneasy sleep clinging to me like cobwebs. My body still aches, not from injuries—I checked—but from something deeper. Something that sits under my ribs like a stone.

    I shove it down. Again.

    Breakfast is a simple affair. Something quick, something thoughtless. I don't feel like eating, but my body moves through the motions anyway, shoving food into my mouth as if sheer routine will force the unease out of me.

    It doesn't.

    The silence in my house is unbearable.

    I need to move.

    So, I do.

    I wander.

    Hooves against dirt, against cobblestone. Through the market, past chatter and laughter and the sounds of a town moving on.

    Like nothing happened.

    Like I wasn't a monster in these very streets just yesterday.

    Ponies glance my way, some more cautious than usual, others blissfully ignorant. I see Lyra and Bon Bon, Roseluck arranging flowers, Davenport advertising his sofas and quills. Everything is normal.

    And I hate it.

    I keep walking.

    Not thinking.

    Not planning.

    Just walking.

    Then I stop.

    I blink.

    Oh.

    I'm standing in front of Golden Oaks Library.

    I scowl.

    Why?

    Why am I here?

    I know why, but I don't want to acknowledge it.

    I could turn around.

    I should turn around.

    I don't.

    I just stand there, tail flicking, ears twitching, staring at the door like it's somehow going to change anything.

    But the problem isn't the door.

    It's the fact that I can't stop thinking about yesterday.

    About Twilight turning her back on me.

    About the way she walked away without a word.

    About the silence.

    I grit my teeth, exhaling sharply.

    This is stupid.

    This is so stupid.

    I don't care.

    I shouldn't care.

    And yet, my legs won't move.

    The knot in my chest tightens.

    I scowl at the door for a long moment, debating with myself.

    Then, against all logic, I push it open and step inside.

    The library is as it always is—quiet, filled with the faint scent of parchment and ink. The shelves are meticulously organized, books tucked neatly into their places, scrolls stacked with an almost obsessive precision.

    And at the center of it all, sitting at her usual desk, quill in hoof, eyes scanning a thick tome, is Twilight Sparkle.

    She doesn't look up.

    I pause.

    This is fine.

    I can work with this.

    I clear my throat dramatically, striding in like I own the place. "Ah, my favorite overly studious unicorn! Fancy seeing you here in your own home!"

    No reaction.

    My grin falters for half a second before I push on. "No greeting? No eye twitch? No exasperated sigh?" I click my tongue. "Twilight, are you sick? Should I check for a fever? Call a doctor? Maybe an exorcist?"

    Nothing.

    I frown slightly, tilting my head. "Twilight?"

    She turns a page, completely unbothered, as if I'm not even there.

    The knot in my chest tightens.

    Oh.

    I… don't like this.

    I don't like this at all.

    I saunter closer, keeping my tone light. "Come on, Sparkle, ignoring me? That's just petty." I lean on the desk. "I mean, I know I have a deeply punchable face, but usually, you at least grace me with a sigh before telling me to shut up."

    Still nothing.

    Not a flicker of acknowledgment.

    My ears twitch. I force a smirk. "Ooooh, I get it. You're trying to play my game. Giving me the silent treatment, huh? Classic move. Almost impressive." I straighten. "Buuut I hate to break it to you, Sparkle, you're really bad at this. See, I thrive in silence. I live in it. I bathe in it." I pause, then shudder. "Okay, bad phrasing, but you get the point."

    No response.

    My chest tightens further.

    I frown, ears flicking. "Twilight."

    Nothing.

    I take a step back, something uncomfortable curling in my stomach.

    This isn't how this works.

    I push. She pushes back. I taunt. She snaps. I frustrate her. She fumes. That's the game.

    But this?

    This is worse.

    This is nothing.

    I shift on my hooves. "Alright, fine. You win this round." I turn sharply. "I'll just go."

    Nothing.

    I walk to the door, but… I hesitate.

    Just for a second.

    She doesn't stop me.

    And that stings far more than I expected.

    step out of the library, the door clicking shut behind me. The air feels heavier now, pressing against my coat like a weight I can't shake.

    This is fine.

    Twilight's being stubborn. That's all.

    I can handle this.

    I roll my shoulders, force my usual smirk back into place, and start walking toward the market. The sounds of Ponyville life carry on as usual—ponies chatting, carts rolling, the occasional foal laughing in the distance.

    Normal.

    I need normal.

    And who better to provide some good, honest, down-to-earth annoyance than Applejack?

    I spot her stand easily enough, stacked with apples in neat little pyramids, a bright sign boasting fresh produce. Applejack stands behind it, doing what she does best—selling apples and looking like she just stepped out of a country song.

    Perfect.

    I saunter up, smirk in place. "Ah, the hardest-working mare in Ponyville. A true vision of agricultural excellence. A real—" I tap the wooden stall with a hoof. "—pillar of the community."

    Nothing.

    She doesn't even look at me.

    I blink.

    Oh.

    Oh no.

    Not her too.

    I clear my throat, leaning against the stand. "You know, it's real rude to ignore customers. What if I wanted to buy an apple?"

    She adjusts the display, completely unfazed.

    The knot in my chest tightens.

    Okay. Fine.

    "Applejack."

    She grabs a few apples and bags them for another customer.

    I narrow my eyes. "Oh, so that's how it is?" I scoff. "What, did you all have a meeting about this? 'Operation: Be As Infuriating As Kinetic'?"

    No response.

    I bristle. "Alright, fine. I don't even like apples, you know. Too sweet. Makes my teeth hurt."

    Still nothing.

    I hate this.

    Applejack always has something to say. She's blunt, straightforward, and annoyingly honest. But right now?

    She's acting like I don't exist.

    I scowl, shoving off the stand and turning sharply. "You know what? Forget it."

    She doesn't stop me.

    She doesn't even glance my way.

    I storm off, my tail flicking in frustration.

    This is getting real annoying.

    I stomp through the marketplace, irritation burning under my skin like a slow, simmering fire.

    Fine. Fine. Twilight wants to play silent treatment? Whatever. Applejack's doing it too? Annoying, but manageable.

    But somepony has to crack eventually.

    And then, I see her.

    Sweetie Belle.

    She's walking near a fabric stand, looking at something with wide, interested eyes.

    My chest loosens, just a little.

    Sweetie Belle. My student.

    If there's one pony in this entire town who won't ignore me, it's her.

    I approach, putting on my usual smirk. "Hey, kid. What's up?"

    She turns, ears perking up—her face lights up the second she sees me, her eyes bright and eager, like she's about to rush over.

    But then—

    Rarity clears her throat.

    Sweetie Belle freezes.

    I see it happen, in real time.

    That split-second shift in her eyes, the way her hooves stop mid-step. The conflict, the hesitation. The way she wants to answer me, but she—

    She doesn't.

    She looks away.

    Like I'm not there.

    Like she was told I wasn't there.

    My stomach twists.

    "Sweetie?" I say, my voice coming out far quieter than I meant.

    She stiffens.

    I look to Rarity, and she's watching me carefully—expression unreadable, chin lifted, like she's daring me to push.

    I clench my jaw.

    I look back to Sweetie Belle.

    She's avoiding my gaze.

    She won't look at me.

    And it hurts.

    It really hurts.

    Because Sweetie has always been excited to see me. She's always run up to me, always wanted to learn, always looked at me like I was some brilliant, amazing mage who could teach her all the secrets of the world.

    And now?

    Now she won't even meet my eyes.

    I swallow, my throat tight.

    I force a smirk, but it feels like glass in my mouth. "Alright, kid. Be that way."

    No answer.

    I nod stiffly, turning away, my steps heavier than before.

    Fine.

    They really want to do this?

    They really want to shut me out?

    Then fine.

    I can take a hint.

    I walk without thinking, my hooves carrying me through Ponyville like a ghost drifting through its old haunts.

    I don't know where I'm going.

    Not home.

    Not back to Golden Oaks.

    I just move.

    And somehow, I end up at Sugarcube Corner.

    The bright pinks and yellows of the bakery stand out against the town, a beacon of warmth, of life. The scent of sugar and fresh pastries drifts through the air, teasing at something familiar, something comforting.

    Pinkie Pie.

    Pinkie has to break first.

    She's Pinkie Pie. She's never quiet. She's never still. She can't ignore anypony to save her life.

    I push open the door. The little bell above jingles cheerfully.

    Ponies chat at tables, sipping milkshakes, biting into muffins. Mr. and Mrs. Cake bustle behind the counter, moving with practiced ease.

    And then I see her.

    Pinkie stands behind the counter, wiping it down with practiced movements.

    I grin, forcing energy into my voice. "Pinkie Pie! There you are! What, did you miss me? I know, I know, I'm very missable. It's been agonizing for you, hasn't it?"

    She freezes.

    I see it in her face—she wants to answer.

    Her ears twitch, her hooves fidget, her tail flicks erratically, like she's physically holding back from bouncing over.

    Her mouth even starts to form words.

    But then…

    She catches herself.

    And stops.

    Her expression twists into something tight, something wrong.

    And she doesn't respond.

    I stare.

    I step forward, my hooves heavy. "Oh, come on, not you too."

    She squeezes her eyes shut, turning her back to me, her shoulders tense.

    "Pinkie," I snap, more desperate than I want to admit. "You literally can't ignore ponies, that's, like, your whole thing! Come on, laugh, say something weird, throw a cupcake at me—"

    Nothing.

    Not a word.

    Not a giggle.

    Not even a look.

    The bakery suddenly feels too bright. Too warm, too fake. Like a stage, like a backdrop, like a carefully painted world that doesn't need me in it.

    My stomach twists.

    I step back, my legs suddenly weak.

    I don't know what I expected.

    I should've known.

    But standing here, talking to nothing, trying to perform without an audience, trying to pull off a trick no one is watching—

    I feel it.

    That emptiness.

    That nothing.

    Just like before.

    Just like when Discord twisted me into something hollow.

    I thought I got away. I thought I clawed my way back.

    But maybe…

    Maybe he was right.

    Maybe I was just noise.

    Maybe I never mattered.

    I don't know how long I stand there, staring at nothing, feeling the weight of silence press in on all sides.

    Pinkie doesn't turn back.

    She doesn't speak.

    She just grips the counter like it's the only thing keeping her still.

    And I feel something inside me crack.

    I exhale slowly, my posture sagging, my ears flattening against my head.

    Fine.

    They win.

    I turn, walking out of Sugarcube Corner with heavy, dragging steps. I don't even try to put on a show anymore. No smirk. No quip. No final jab at their ridiculous little stunt.

    Because this isn't a game.

    Not to them.

    And if it was a game to me, I just lost.

    I just walk.

    Back home.

    The streets feel emptier than before. The marketplace is winding down, the warm hues of late afternoon stretching over Ponyville in golden slants. I barely register any of it.

    I just keep moving.

    But the second my house comes into view, I stop.

    Because Twilight is there.

    Waiting.

    She stands just outside my door, looking as patient and stubborn as ever, her hooves planted firm on the ground, her expression unreadable.

    I hesitate.

    I could turn around.

    I could walk away.

    Pretend I don't see her. Pretend this isn't happening. Pretend I don't care.

    But I do.

    And the thought of walking into that house—alone—sitting in that quiet, silent space with nothing but my own thoughts?

    No.

    No, I can't.

    So I do the only thing I can do.

    I step forward.

    Twilight watches me carefully, not moving, not saying anything until I'm right in front of her.

    Then, she tilts her head slightly. "Are you ready to talk yet?"

    Her voice is calm, firm, but not soft.

    She's not giving me an easy way out.

    I glance at the door, then back at her.

    I don't answer immediately.

    Then, with a tired sigh, I lower my head.

    "...Fine."

    I don't want to be alone.

    So I choose this instead.

    I push open the door to my house, stepping aside as Twilight follows me in. The familiar glow of the floating orbs lights up the space. It's quiet. Too quiet.

    I move toward the center of the room, my hooves heavy against the floor. Twilight closes the door behind her, standing firm, her expression unreadable.

    I already regret this.

    She watches me carefully before speaking. "Tell me what he did to you."

    I exhale sharply, dragging a hoof down my face. "You really want to hear this?"

    She doesn't flinch. "Yes."

    I huff, turning away from her, staring at nothing in particular. "He didn't do anything."

    Twilight frowns. "Kinetic—"

    I cut her off, my voice flat. "I mean it. He didn't need to. He just talked."

    I hear Twilight shift slightly, her tail flicking. "Talked?"

    I nod slowly. "Said things. True things. Things I'd already thought about. He just… put them in order." My voice feels detached, like it belongs to someone else. "He didn't break me. He just let me break myself."

    I let out a humorless chuckle, shaking my head.

    Twilight is quiet for a moment. Then, carefully, she steps closer. "What did he say?"

    I turn, looking her dead in the eye. "That I don't belong here."

    She opens her mouth, but I cut her off. "That I never mattered. That every problem, every disaster, every major event? Would've played out exactly the same without me."

    Twilight's ears twitch, her eyes narrowing slightly.

    "That nothing I've done has changed a thing." My voice tightens, bitterness bleeding through. "That I could disappear tomorrow, and everything would go on like normal."

    Twilight takes a slow breath, and I can see the thoughts racing behind her eyes.

    Twilight doesn't hesitate. "He was wrong."

    I scoff. "Oh yeah? Prove it."

    She lifts her chin, eyes burning with something fierce. "You helped stop Nightmare Moon."

    I shake my head. "You would've figured it out anyway. You would've found the Elements, blasted her, and—bam—Luna's back. You didn't need me."

    "But maybe we did!" Twilight insists, stepping forward. "Maybe we wouldn't have found them in time! Maybe Nightmare Moon would've won without the extra time you bought us!"

    I laugh, sharp and hollow. "That's a maybe, Twilight. Not proof."

    She doesn't back down. "The parasprites—"

    "Pinkie solved that."

    "You got rid of them!" she snaps. "You exterminated most of them before Pinkie even had a chance! Without you, Ponyville could've been completely overrun! That wasn't part of some grand plan, Kinetic—that was you!"

    I grit my teeth. "Yeah? And what about Discord? You had the Elements the whole time! You didn't need me for that!"

    Twilight's expression darkens. "You think it all would've played out the same, but you don't know that. You can't know that!"

    I hold back the bitter laugh clawing at my throat. Because I do know. I do know how it was supposed to go. The story had a script, and I wasn't in it. I was never meant to be in it.

    But I can't tell her that.

    So instead, I look away, voice tight. "I just think it would've happened anyway."

    Twilight shakes her head, frustrated. "You're not some piece of background scenery, Kinetic. You didn't just watch things happen—you were there. You did things. You helped us."

    I don't respond.

    Twilight exhales sharply, eyes searching my face for something—anything. I don't know what she expects to find.

    I don't move. I don't react.

    She watches me for a long moment before her expression softens, frustration giving way to something quieter. "Forget all of that for a second."

    I blink, wary. "What?"

    She takes another step forward, steady and sure. "Forget the big things. Forget Nightmare Moon, forget Discord, forget everything that made you think you don't matter." She tilts her head. "What about us?"

    I go still.

    I don't like where this is going.

    Twilight stares at me, unflinching. "We want you here."

    I swallow, my throat suddenly dry. The same thing that stopped me before.

    She doesn't stop. "Maybe the world doesn't need you to keep turning, but we want you here anyway."

    Something inside me twists.

    I can't stop the words before they leave my mouth. "Yeah… but I still feel useless."

    The second they're out, I want to take them back.

    Twilight's expression doesn't change. If anything, she looks like she expected that answer.

    "Why?" she asks simply.

    I clench my jaw. I don't answer.

    Because if I do… then what?

    What changes?

    What happens if I let this conversation keep going?

    Twilight waits, but I keep my mouth shut, my ears flicking back.

    Then, slowly, she exhales. "You really believe that, don't you?"

    I shrug, forcing an empty smirk. "Belief's a strong word."

    She doesn't rise to the bait. "You think that if you disappeared, nothing would change."

    I roll my eyes. "We've been over this, Sparkle."

    She steps even closer. "And if we disappeared?"

    I freeze.

    My chest tightens.

    Twilight watches me carefully. "If we were gone. If I was gone. Would it be the same?"

    The answer is obvious.

    No.

    Of course not.

    But I can't say it.

    She steps back, nodding slightly, as if she's already seen the answer written all over my face.

    "That's how we feel about you."

    I feel sick.

    I take a slow, steady breath, but it doesn't help. The weight in my chest doesn't lift. Twilight is still looking at me, expecting something—some answer, some reaction—but I don't know what she wants me to say.

    I shift my weight. "That's different."

    She frowns. "How?"

    I scoff, waving a hoof. "Because you're you. You're Twilight Sparkle. You've got the Elements, the whole 'friendship is magic' thing, the fate of Equestria probably resting on your shoulders at all times. Of course it'd be different if you weren't here."

    Her frown deepens. "And what about you?"

    I hesitate.

    "You've been with us this whole time," she says, firm. "You live in Ponyville. You're part of this group."

    I let out a weak laugh. "Yeah, sure. The seventh wheel, hanging around the edges of the friendship super squad."

    Twilight shakes her head, looking frustrated. "That's not true."

    I sigh, rubbing a hoof down my face. "It is, though."

    Twilight steps forward, stubborn as ever. "You were with us from the beginning."

    "Was I?" I snap, sharper than I meant to. "Because that's not how I remember it."

    She flinches, but she doesn't back down. "What do you mean?"

    I let out a slow breath, trying to rein myself in, but something ugly and bitter is bubbling up inside me. I don't know why I say it—I've buried it for so long—but once the words start, I can't stop them.

    "First day," I mutter. "First day I met you. We're going through the Everfree, following the trail to the Castle of the Two Sisters, and then the cliff gives out."

    Twilight nods slowly, watching me carefully, like she's walking on unstable ground. "I remember."

    I let out a dry, humorless chuckle. "Yeah? I do too." My voice tightens, my chest constricting. "I remember how the cliff broke away, how everypony else got saved."

    I don't look at her when I say it. I can't.

    "Applejack caught you," I continue, voice distant. "Rainbow and Fluttershy caught Pinkie. Fluttershy caught Rarity." I swallow thickly. "And I—I was just falling."

    Twilight's breath catches, but she doesn't say anything.

    "I wasn't fast enough," I murmur. "Didn't have wings. Didn't have magic I could actually use. I had seconds—seconds to think, to act. No safety net, no heroic rescue. Just me, alone, falling, with nothing but air." I inhale sharply, the memory clawing at my mind, fresh despite the weeks that have passed. "I had to cast a spell I'd never even tried before just to survive."

    I glance at her, watching as realization dawns on her face. "The air cushion spell," she whispers.

    I nod. "Didn't even know if it'd work." I scoff, shaking my head. "But it had to. Because there was no other choice."

    Twilight looks like she wants to argue, wants to say something to change the narrative I've wrapped myself in, but she doesn't.

    She can't.

    Because it's true.

    I wasn't saved. I saved myself.

    I keep going before she can find the words to stop me. "And after that, my leg was shot. Couldn't run. Could barely walk. So when we ran into the manticore, I couldn't scatter like the rest of you."

    Twilight looks stricken.

    "Rainbow flew off. Applejack jumped back. Pinkie bounced away. Fluttershy hesitated—but even she left." I let out a hollow chuckle. "And me? I had to stand there. Had to face it. Because running wasn't an option."

    "Kinetic, we—" Twilight starts, but I cut her off.

    "I had to trick it," I say, voice colder than I mean it to be. "Had to make myself bigger, had to be something it wouldn't want to mess with. Used the Doppler Illusion spell in a way I never had before—mimicked the manticore right back at it." I close my eyes, letting the memory wash over me. "And it worked. It scared it, just long enough for the rest of you to do your thing."

    Twilight stares, horror creeping into her expression. "We left you."

    I let out a shaky breath. "You didn't do it on purpose."

    "But we still did," she whispers.

    I glance away. "Yeah."

    The room falls into silence, heavy and suffocating.

    Twilight looks like she's just been hit in the gut, her ears pinned back, her tail flicking anxiously. "I—I thought you were fine," she mutters, almost to herself. "You acted fine."

    "Of course I did," I say, forcing a laugh that doesn't feel right. "Had to be fine. What else was I supposed to do? Cry about it?"

    She flinches again.

    For a long moment, neither of us speaks.

    Then, softly, Twilight says, "Is that why you always keep your distance?"

    I look at her, really look at her, and I see it—the regret, the guilt, the realization that maybe I've never truly been part of the group the way she thought I was.

    I swallow, my throat tight.

    I exhale sharply, looking away. "Six is a nice, even number," I mutter. "Neat. Symmetrical. Balanced."

    Twilight's ears twitch. "What?"

    I gesture vaguely. "Six friends. Six Elements. You each have each other. It just… works."

    She frowns. "Kinetic—"

    "I was never part of that," I continue, cutting her off before she can say whatever comforting thing she's trying to find. "You six? You belong together. I was just there." I wave a hoof dismissively, forcing a lopsided grin. "An extra piece in a puzzle that was already finished."

    Twilight looks like she wants to argue, but she doesn't—not right away. She watches me, her expression unreadable. Then, carefully, she says, "You're wrong."

    I snort. "Figures you'd say that."

    Her eyes narrow slightly. "Because it's true."

    I shake my head. "It doesn't matter, Twilight. It's not a bad thing. You don't need a seventh wheel clunking up the harmony."

    Twilight takes a slow, measured breath. "You're not some extra piece."

    I force a laugh. "Sure feels like it."

    She steps closer, her gaze sharp. "Then why did we come after you?"

    I freeze.

    She doesn't stop. "If you were just 'extra,' if you didn't matter, why did we try to help? Why did I sit outside your house and yell at you? Why did it hurt when you pushed us away?"

    My mouth opens, but nothing comes out.

    Twilight takes another step forward. "Why does it hurt now?"

    I look away, my throat dry.

    She exhales, quieter this time. "You think we don't care, but we do. We always have."

    I let out a hollow chuckle, still not looking at her. "You have a funny way of showing it."

    Twilight flinches, but she doesn't back down. "We made mistakes," she admits. "We should have seen it sooner. I should have seen it sooner." She swallows, voice firm. "But that doesn't mean you didn't belong with us."

    I clench my jaw, my shoulders tight.

    She watches me for a moment, waiting, but I don't say anything.

    So she sighs, shaking her head. "Six is a nice, even number," she says quietly. "But seven's always felt lucky to me."

    I scoff, the sound weak. "Lucky. Right."

    Twilight doesn't react to my dismissal. She just studies me, like she's trying to piece something together. Then, carefully, she asks, "What were you? Before."

    The words land heavier than I expect.

    I freeze.

    She watches me, expectant. "When Discord corrupted you, you changed. That form—you weren't a pony." She hesitates. "What… was that?"

    I let out a slow breath. I could lie. I should lie.

    "A human."

    Twilight blinks. "A… what?"

    "A human," I repeat, trying not to let the word weigh too much in my mouth.

    Her brows furrow, her mind already dissecting the information. "That doesn't sound like anything from Equestria."

    "It's not."

    She blinks again, her tail flicking as the pieces start to form in her head. "...You're saying you're not from Equestria."

    I nod. "Not originally, no."

    Her breath catches, but she doesn't interrupt.

    I rub my temple, trying to find the right words. "The Princesses already know."

    And that gets a reaction.

    Twilight's ears flatten, and her eyes narrow slightly. "You told the Princesses," she says, a sharp edge to her voice, "but not me?"

    I shift uncomfortably. "It wasn't exactly something I could keep from them forever."

    She steps forward, her tail flicking. "And yet, you did keep it from me."

    I frown. "It's not like it came up naturally in conversation, Twilight."

    Her nostrils flare, but she reins it in. "When?"

    I blink. "What?"

    "When did you tell them?" she clarifies, her tone more controlled now, but no less irritated. "How long have they known?"

    I hesitate, but there's no point in dodging it. "...After the Archmage Examination."

    Twilight exhales sharply through her nose. "So, what? You just… decided I didn't need to know?"

    I shrug. "They sort of figured it out. Once they caught on that I was lying."

    Her eyes sharpen immediately. "Lying about what?"

    Damn it.

    I freeze, just for a second.

    It's enough.

    Twilight steps closer. "Lying about what, Kinetic?"

    I swallow, shifting slightly. "It's not—"

    "Not what?" She doesn't back down, her frustration mounting. "Not important? Not relevant? Because it sounds relevant!"

    I glance away, ears flattening. "Just… things."

    "Like?" she presses.

    I grit my teeth. "Like things, Twilight."

    She narrows her eyes. "Kinetic."

    I sigh, rubbing my face. "Look, it's nothing that changes anything, okay? It's just—"

    "—another thing you didn't tell us," she finishes, voice tight.

    I huff. "Oh, come on, Twilight, don't act like—"

    "Like what?" She glares at me. "Like I thought we were friends?"

    The words hit harder than I expect.

    I don't say anything.

    Twilight shakes her head, her frustration boiling over. "Do you even trust me?"

    I open my mouth. Pause.

    I don't know how to answer that.

    Her ears flick back, hurt bleeding into her expression. "...Do you?"

    I sigh heavily, dragging a hoof down my face. Every fiber of my being screams at me not to say it, not to let it out. But Twilight is relentless. She's already cracked open too much, and now she's digging for the rest.

    I can't win this.

    So, against my better judgment, I say it.

    "I don't know magic."

    Twilight blinks. "...What?"

    I shift uncomfortably, my tail flicking. "I don't know magic. Not really."

    Her brow furrows. "That doesn't make sense. You cast spells all the time—advanced spells! I've seen you!"

    I exhale sharply. "Yeah, well. Turns out, you don't actually need to know magic to fake it."

    Her eyes widen, her mind already racing. "But—your illusions. Your heating and cooling spells—"

    I shake my head. "Not magic."

    She stares at me like I just told her the sky was green.

    "But—" she sputters, "—but the Doppler Illusion—"

    I sigh, shifting my weight. "It's not an illusion, Twilight."

    She shakes her head. "But I saw—"

    "It's just oscillating particles," I cut in. "I manipulate small particles—dust, chalk, whatever's in the air—and make them oscillate at different speeds. That's what changes the apparent wavelength of light. I'm not warping reality, Twilight—I'm redirecting it."

    She reels back, like she's trying to process the words but can't make them fit. "How?"

    I hesitate. Then, reluctantly, I answer. "Telekinesis."

    Twilight's jaw tightens. "What?"

    "All of it," I mutter, my voice low, like I can hide the words even as I say them. "The air cushion? That was just me condensing air molecules together with telekinesis until they were dense enough to catch me." I shrug, the motion empty. "My heating and cooling spells? Just vibrating or slowing down atoms. Even my so-called illusions—they're just physics."

    Twilight inhales sharply. "Physics."

    I nod.

    There's a beat of silence.

    Then, suddenly, Twilight's eyes light up with something dangerous.

    "I knew that meant something!" she exclaims, stomping her hoof. "I knew it!"

    I blink. "...What?"

    She glares at me, frustrated but vindicated. "You said that word before! In your house! a week ago! I knew it meant something important, but you just brushed it off!" Her ears flick back. "I knew your magic was strange, but I couldn't figure out why!"

    I let out a tired groan, rubbing my temples. "Yeah, well. I was trying to avoid telling you."

    Twilight, in true Twilight fashion, is already spiraling into full-on academic discovery mode. Her ears are perked, her eyes bright with excitement, and I can feel the gears in her head turning at dangerous speeds.

    "Do you realize what this means?" she practically shouts, her ears twitching in excitement. "Magic that doesn't require a mental chant or a visualized pattern! No spell matrices, no Ancient Equestrian—just direct manipulation of the world through sheer will!"

    I groan loudly. "And this is why I didn't want to tell you."

    She's not even listening.

    "If you're not visualizing spell structures," she continues, already pacing, "then that means you're interacting with magic at a purely instinctual level! No formulas, no standardized frameworks—just raw manipulation!" She whirls back to me. "This is incredible!"

    "It's really not," I mutter.

    "But it is!" She stomps a hoof, nearly vibrating with excitement. "If you're not casting spells, but still achieving spell-like effects, that means magic can be applied in a completely different way than we ever thought possible!" She gasps suddenly. "This could revolutionize spellcraft! If we can understand how you do it, we might be able to create entirely new fields of study! New disciplines! Maybe even—"

    "Twilight," I cut in, "my magic isn't the same as yours."

    She stops, blinking. "...What do you mean?"

    I exhale sharply. "Real spells—actual magic—break physics. They let you do things that shouldn't be possible. Teleportation? It ignores Causality, the uncertainty principle, and I'm pretty sure the second law of thermodynamics. Transformation spells? They alter mass and composition in ways that should violate every natural law."

    Twilight frowns slightly, but she doesn't interrupt.

    I gesture vaguely. "But my 'magic'? It doesn't break physics. It is physics. I'm not changing the rules—I'm playing within them."

    She stares at me, processing. Then, slowly, she says, "Then… it's not the same as casting spells."

    "Exactly," I say, nodding. "It's not magic at all. It's just an advanced application of force."

    Twilight's frown deepens. "But you're still using telekinesis."

    I shrug. "Yeah, but I'm not using it like a spellcaster would. I'm not shaping reality—I'm just manipulating what's already there. Your magic creates effects. Mine just... nudges things really, really hard."

    She stares at me for a moment longer, and I think—for one blessed second—that she's finally going to let it go.

    Then she shakes her head, eyes glinting with determination. "No."

    I groan. "Twilight—"

    "No, listen!" She steps forward, eyes burning with that 'I just discovered something groundbreaking and I am not letting it go' energy. "If you're manipulating the world through telekinesis alone, then that means you've developed an entire system of spellwork—without actually using spellwork. Kinetic—that's a whole new school of magic!"

    I blink.

    That—that is a stretch.

    "Twilight," I say, already exhausted, "this isn't some new school of magic. It's just science applied to telekinesis."

    "But that's the point!" she argues, eyes wild. "If nopony else uses magic this way, then it's something entirely new! Do you understand what this means?" She starts pacing again, her mind already sprinting ahead. "It means there's a way to use magic outside of spell matrices! It means there are alternatives to complex, time-intensive spells! It means—"

    "—that I'm going to have to deal with you geeking out about this for the rest of my life, doesn't it?" I groan, dragging a hoof down my face.

    Twilight completely ignores me. "It means we've only been using magic in one way because that's how we've always used it! But you—" she jabs a hoof at me, her eyes blazing with academic fervor, "—you've proved there's another way! A way that doesn't require runes or predefined energy structures! If we study this, if we can understand it, we could rewrite everything we know about spellcraft!"

    I back up slightly. "Okay, no, let's not start rewriting fundamental laws just because I got creative with telekinesis."

    "But that's exactly why we should!" she insists, stepping closer, looking half-tempted to shake me. "Magic has always been this vast, untouchable force that we manipulate through structure and theory, but you're showing me that it's—it's just the world! That the rules of magic might just be the rules of nature expressed differently!"

    I huff. "I told you that's not how it works."

    Twilight lets out a sharp exhale. "Kinetic, you're missing the point!"

    "Am I, though?" I smirk. "Because to me, the point is that you're now going to be even more annoying about this."

    She groans loudly. "Of course you would turn a magical revolution into me being annoying."

    "Because you are!" I shoot back, exasperated. "Do you have any idea how insufferable you're going to be now? I could've kept my mouth shut and lived a normal life, but nooo, you just had to keep digging."

    Twilight levels a deadpan look at me. "You? A normal life? Please."

    I sputter. "I could have!"

    She rolls her eyes. "Right. Because 'Archmage Charlatan Extraordinaire' screams normal."

    I scowl, crossing my hooves. "I was doing just fine before you got involved."

    "Uh-huh. And by 'fine,' you mean 'lying to everypony constantly and bottling up all your problems until you exploded?'" She raises a brow. "So fine."

    I glare at her. "Extremely fine."

    Twilight sighs, shaking her head. "Look, I get why you didn't want to tell me, but don't you see how important this is?" She softens slightly, the fire in her eyes dimming just a little. "You're not just some fraud tricking everypony into thinking you're a mage. You are one—you're just working with a different rulebook."

    I shift uncomfortably. "Yeah, well. Still doesn't feel like it."

    She gives me a look. "Too bad."

    I groan dramatically. "Great. Just what I always wanted—an overenthusiastic scholar dissecting my every move."

    Twilight grins. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

    "It is a bad thing!"

    "You'll get used to it."

    "Doubt."

    She rolls her eyes but doesn't push further. Instead, she steps back, watching me carefully. "You know… you could teach this."

    I blink. "Excuse me?"

    Twilight tilts her head. "You already have a student—Sweetie Belle. And from what I've seen, she adores learning from you."

    I shift uncomfortably. "Yeah, because she doesn't know I've been lying to her."

    "Have you?" Twilight challenges. "Or have you just been teaching her your kind of magic?"

    I open my mouth. Close it. Scowl.

    She smirks. "Exactly."

    I shake my head. "Look, let's not get ahead of ourselves. You are not dragging me into some grand lecture series on 'Applied Mathemagics' I am not about to become some kind of—ugh—professor."

    Twilight hums. "We'll see."

    "No, Twilight."

    "We'll see," she repeats, smirking.

    I let out the loudest, most theatrical groan I can manage, because I already know I've lost.

    Twilight stretches her legs and gives me a final, victorious smirk, clearly pleased with herself. I glare at her, already regretting every single word I've said tonight.

    "Well," she says, turning towards the door, "I think I've gotten everything I needed out of you for now."

    "Great," I mutter. "Feel free to never come back."

    She snorts. "Not a chance."

    Then she pauses, glancing back at me. Her smug expression shifts into something more thoughtful. "I'll let the others know."

    I frown. "Know what?"

    She tilts her head. "About what happened. About how you felt. How you still feel."

    My stomach drops. "Twilight, no."

    "They deserve to know."

    "Absolutely not." I step forward, ears flattening. "That's not something you just tell ponies."

    She raises a brow. "Why not?"

    I scowl, my tail flicking sharply. "Because it's not done. You don't—" I struggle for the words, my voice tightening. "You don't just go around spilling things like that. You deal with it. You move on."

    Twilight frowns. "That's not moving on, Kinetic. That's just ignoring it."

    I shake my head. "They didn't mean to leave me behind, Twilight! They didn't even know! It's not like they set out to screw me over! It just—" I exhale sharply, frustrated. "It just happened. It's not some grand betrayal. It's not something that needs to be dragged back up."

    Twilight's gaze softens. "But it still hurt you."

    I bristle. "Yeah? So what?" I gesture vaguely. "That's life! Things happen, you deal with it, you keep going!"

    She studies me for a long moment. "That's what you were raised to believe, isn't it?"

    I scoff. "Of course it is."

    Her eyes narrow slightly. "And how's that been working out for you?"

    I stiffen.

    She nods like she already knew the answer. "I thought so."

    I glare at her. "This isn't fair."

    She shrugs. "Neither was you thinking we didn't care about you for weeks."

    I grind my teeth. "Twilight."

    She sighs, shaking her head. "They deserve to know, Kinetic. They'll want to know. And they'll want to make it up to you."

    I groan, dragging a hoof down my face. "That's exactly what I don't want."

    Twilight gives me a small, knowing smile. "Yeah, well. Too bad."

    I groan again, dramatically flopping onto my couch. "You're the worst."

    "Just returning the favor," she says breezily, opening the door.

    "Twilight, don't."

    She winks. "See you tomorrow!"

    And with that, she trots off, leaving me alone with my horrible life choices.

    I let my head fall back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling.

    This is going to be a disaster.
     
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    • I was so happy to see this continue.
    Physics as a branch of magic sounds amazing. Like Kinetic teaches a few pupils who then spread it kind of a thing.
     
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    • I wake up feeling like I barely slept at all.

    For a long moment, I just lie there, staring at the ceiling, my thoughts sluggish and unfocused. The weight of last night's conversation still lingers, pressing against my chest like something heavy and unavoidable.

    Twilight said she'd tell them.

    That thought alone makes my stomach twist.

    I groan, rolling onto my side, reluctant to start the day. I don't want to start the day. I don't want to deal with whatever awkward mess Twilight has undoubtedly created.

    But lying here isn't going to change anything.

    With a long sigh, I force myself up. My hooves hit the cold floor, and I shiver slightly, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. I move through the motions, slow and mechanical, heading toward the kitchen.

    Pancakes. I can at least make pancakes.

    I grab the flour, the milk, the eggs. I don't really think about what I'm doing—I just let my hooves go through the familiar steps. Batter. Hay. Stove. Sizzle. Flip.

    It's slow.

    Calm.

    Quiet.

    By the time I finish, I stare at the plate like I'm not really sure how it got there.

    My house is too quiet.

    I glance at the windows. They glow, as always—bright, soft white, the illusion of daylight stretching across them. I never really thought about it much before, but today it feels… fake.

    Just like everything else.

    I take my time eating, chewing slowly, staring at nothing.

    Nobody knocks on my door.

    Nobody calls my name.

    For a moment, I wonder if Twilight actually didn't tell them. If she changed her mind. If she decided I wasn't worth the effort after all.

    I don't know if that thought makes me relieved or disappointed.

    Either way, it doesn't matter.

    Eventually, I get up. Rinse the plate. Dry it.

    Then, because I have to do something, I leave.

    I step outside into the crisp morning air, blinking against the light. Ponyville is waking up around me—ponies chatting, stands setting up, life moving forward as if nothing had ever happened.

    I exhale slowly, my breath curling in the cool air.

    Alright.

    Let's get this over with.

    I make my way to Town Hall, hooves dragging slightly, not because I'm tired, but because I already know what's waiting for me.

    Paperwork.

    Lots of it.

    I haven't checked in for over a week, and bureaucracy is like a fungus—it thrives in neglect.

    When I push open the door to my office, I'm not disappointed. Stacks of parchment are piled high on my desk, an unholy monument to unfinished responsibilities.

    I let out a low whistle. "Wow. That is... impressively bad."

    With a tired sigh, I step inside, only to pause as my eyes land on the far wall.

    The brickwork there is just slightly off, forming an unmistakable imprint of a pony-shaped hole.

    I chuckle to myself.

    Right. That.

    A bit over a week ago, I had the brilliant idea to phase through the wall instead of using the perfectly functional door. I ended up destabilizing the intergranular bonds in the brick, walking through like it was sand, and then hastily re-solidifying it behind me. The result? A perfect outline of my body mid-step, immortalized in stone.

    I still haven't fixed it.

    Chuckling under my breath, I shake my head and turn to the real problem.

    I approach the desk, scanning the piles of parchment, looking for something simple. My job as Town Mage is about as loosely defined as it gets. Some days, I'm handling magical pest infestations. Occasionally, I'm asked to fix things—things being a broad category that ranges from structural integrity issues to local superstitions.

    Let's see…

    I start flipping through the papers.

    REQUEST: BARN TEMPERATURE CONTROL ISSUE
    From: Sweet Apple Acres
    Issue: The Apple family's storage barn's been coolin' down all wonky overnight, makin' us mighty worried 'bout our stored produce.
    Proposed Solution: Reckon we oughta check fer any magical funny business messin' with the temperature.

    I hum, considering. That one's an easy fix. Probably just poor insulation combined with radiative cooling. But with how Aplejack is probably going to act, I'll save that for last.

    REQUEST: WELL WATER TASTES 'HAUNTED'
    From: Lucky Star
    Issue: The old well's water haunted and is filled with the curses of the past.
    Proposed Solution: Town Mage to investigate supernatural activity.

    I rub my temple. Tastes haunted? What does that even mean? It's probably just mineral content affecting the taste. Maybe iron, maybe sulfur.

    REQUEST: SUSPICIOUS ROCK FORMATION
    From: Mayor Mare
    Issue: A group of ponies believes a cluster of rocks outside town is a dormant golem.
    Proposed Solution: Town Mage to assess and dispel if necessary.

    I sigh, setting the rest of the papers down. Alright, let's start with the well. Simple problem, simple solution.

    Strapping on my saddlebags, I make my way out of the office and toward the old well near the southern edge of Ponyville. It's a decently old structure—stone-built, a little weathered, with a wooden frame holding up the bucket pulley system. A small crowd of ponies lingers nearby, eyeing the well with suspicion.

    One of them, an older mare, spots me approaching and gasps. "Oh, thank the stars! Archmage Flux, you've come!"

    I fight the urge to sigh. "Yep. That's me. Your esteemed Town Mage." I glance at the well. "So. Haunted water, huh?"

    The gathered ponies nod fervently. Another stallion pipes up, "It tastes wrong. Like something's in it." His ears flick back. "I felt strange after drinking it the other day. Like something watched me."

    I resist the urge to roll my eyes. "Right. Obviously the well is haunted." I step closer, inspecting the stonework. "But, you see, a standard dispelling won't work if the spirits have latched onto the source of the water."

    They all nod, eating up my nonsense.

    Stepping to the well, I glance inside. The water at the bottom is murky. Not horrible, but not clear either. I lean forward, inhaling slightly.

    Sulfur.

    Figures.

    I pull the bucket up and examine the water inside. A faint, off smell. Not too strong, but definitely noticeable. Could be mineral contamination—iron, sulfur, even bacteria. I need a way to filter this.

    Alright. What can I actually use?

    I run through what's available in Ponyville. Limestone, charcoal, and sand. Perfect. That's all I need for a simple filtration system.

    I turn to the gathered ponies, putting on my best serious mage expression. "This well is tainted," I declare, voice grave.

    Gasps. Murmurs. I swear I hear somepony whisper I knew it under their breath.

    "Dark energies have seeped into the water," I continue, waving a hoof in an arcane-looking gesture. "These spirits—restless, ancient—must be purified before they do further harm."

    The murmurs turn to frightened nods. "What do we do?" the older mare asks.

    I make a show of considering. "I will craft an arcane purifying medium to cleanse the spirits and restore harmony to this water."

    In reality, I'm about to MacGyver a medieval filtration system.

    I head to the apothecary and purchase limestone, charcoal, and sand. The limestone will help neutralize acidity, the charcoal will absorb impurities, and the sand will act as a mechanical filter.

    Returning to the well, I have some of the ponies gather some wooden barrels and a few clean cloths.

    I layer the barrels as follows:

    1. Top layer: Cloth, to catch large debris.
    2. Second layer: Crushed charcoal, to absorb organic impurities and remove foul odors.
    3. Third layer: Sand, to filter out smaller particles.
    4. Bottom layer: Crushed limestone, to balance pH levels and remove some heavy metals.
    This isn't perfect, but for medieval Equestria, it's a solid short-term solution.

    I wave my hooves over the well, muttering complete gibberish under my breath. "Ostias vehmra, solvit impuritatis!"

    I sprinkle some powdered limestone into the well—"a sacred reagent to drive out malevolent forces."

    More nods. Some ponies actually bow.

    Finally, I set up the filtration barrels and instruct them to pour the well water through them before use. "The spirits will be purified as the water passes through the blessed layers."

    They completely buy it.

    I explain to them that this solution will help, but it's not perfect or permanent. They need to first Pour water back and forth between buckets or through a cascading wooden trough to allow the spirits to pass between worlds. Alternatively, they can dig a secondary settling pond near the well, allowing water to stand before filtering. Over time, the well could accumulate more contaminants, and without proper maintenance, the filter layers will clog or become less effective. Ideally, they'd need to replace the charcoal and clean out sediment buildup every few weeks. I could also introduce boiling as a "further purification ritual," but one step at a time.

    For now, though, the town believes I've banished the haunted taste.

    One of the stallions dips a cup into the filtered water, sipping cautiously. His eyes widen. "It tastes… normal!"

    The ponies cheer.

    I force a smile, adjusting my saddlebags. "All in a day's work."

    As they praise my incredible magic, and hoof over 50 bits. I step back, sighing inwardly. One problem down. Now, let's go deal with that supposed golem.

    I make my way to the so-called suspicious rock formation, still mentally rolling my eyes at the sheer ridiculousness of the request.

    Honestly. Ponies and their superstitions.

    The path winds just outside Ponyville, leading to an old clearing near the Whitetail Woods. It's quiet—too quiet, even for the middle of the day. No ponies waiting for me, no concerned citizens pointing at the dormant golem in question.

    Just me. And some rocks.

    Big, jagged slabs of stone are stacked in a haphazard pile, some of them partially buried, others sticking out at odd angles. I circle the formation, unimpressed.

    "Yep. Rocks," I mutter to myself. "Truly, the work of dark forces. Clearly, this is an ancient evil—the Forbidden Pebbles of Eternal Doom—and I, Kinetic Flux, Archmage Extraordinaire, am the only one who can stop them." I wave a hoof dramatically. "Begone, foul masonry!"

    Nothing happens.

    Because, obviously, it's a pile of rocks.

    I sigh, shaking my head. "Ponies, man. A few weirdly shaped boulders, and suddenly it's a national emergency. What's next? A haunted fence post? An ominous tree stump?" I scoff, tapping one of the stones with my hoof. "They probably saw some weird shadows and—"

    A deep, guttural rumble rolls through the air.

    I freeze.

    The ground shifts beneath me, a faint vibration crawling up my legs.

    Another rumble—louder this time. The sound of stone grinding against stone.

    Slowly, the pile of rocks begins to move.

    I take a step back, heart hammering, as massive slabs shift and slide into place, dust and dirt spilling from their surfaces.

    A shape emerges—taller, broader, heavier. Limbs of ancient stone unfold from the earth, jagged and uneven, shifting with the deep groan of ages.

    Two immense, hollow sockets—empty, yet somehow aware—lock onto me.

    It stands.

    Towering.

    Colossal.

    A golem.

    I stare.

    It stares back.

    The wind howls between us.

    "…Oh."

    I blink up at the towering mass of living stone, its hollow sockets locked onto me with an intensity that does not feel friendly.

    "Okay," I say, clearing my throat. "I'll admit when I'm wrong."

    The golem responds by swinging a boulder-sized fist directly at my face.

    "Okay, okay, that's fair!" I shout, leaping back as the ground shatters where I was standing a second ago. Dust and debris explode outward, the sheer force of the impact sending a tremor through my legs.

    Welp. Talking is out.

    Time for tactics.

    I channel my telekinesis into the earth beneath me, cutting four circular disks from the ground—one for each hoof. They break free with a snap, and before the golem can take another swing, I lift off, balancing on the makeshift platforms with practiced ease.

    The ground shrinks beneath me as I hover upward, narrowly dodging another wild strike. The wind rushes past my ears as I weave through the air, adjusting the disks beneath my hooves with pinpoint precision.

    Now for the real test.

    I shift my focus, honing in on one of the larger boulders making up the golem's upper body. It's big, probably load-bearing. If I can weaken the right spots, I might be able to destabilize it.

    Reaching out with my magic, I probe the stone's structure, feeling for the tiny weaknesses between the grains—the intergranular bonds holding it together.

    Then, with a calculated push, I begin tearing them apart.

    A deep crack splits through the air as the massive rock fractures cleanly in half.

    But it doesn't fall.

    Both halves remain suspended, still locked into place as part of the golem's form, still floating as if nothing had happened.

    I stare.

    It stares back.

    "Alright," I mutter under my breath. "That's… mildly concerning."

    I hover just above the golem's range, scanning its shifting mass of stone, looking for something—anything—that might give me an edge.

    Below me, the construct shifts, tracking my movements with eerie precision. Then, without hesitation, it hurls a massive chunk of itself straight at me.

    I barely have time to swerve.

    "Fuck!"

    The boulder whistles past my head, close enough that I feel the displaced air drag at my mane before it smashes into the hillside behind me, exploding into shards.

    Before I can even process that, the golem's remaining arm plunges into the dirt. The ground rumbles. I watch as it pulls itself back upright, its missing limb regenerating from the earth itself, reshaping into a fresh stone fist.

    I let out a slow breath. "Yeah. Okay. That's a problem."

    It's fast, too fast for something so big. Every time it loses a piece, it just rebuilds itself with whatever material is nearby. And worse, it's learning—adjusting its tactics every time I move.

    But something's off.

    It never turns its left leg away from me. Not once.

    I narrow my eyes, circling wide, testing my theory. No matter how I move, it keeps that leg facing me. Almost like it's shielding something.

    I shift, angling myself to get a better look at its back.

    And then I see them.

    Runes.

    Deeply carved. Complex. Intricate.

    I don't know what they say, but I don't have to. I already know what I'm looking at.

    A control array.

    I grin.

    "Found you."

    With a burst of telekinesis, I force the intergranular bonds apart, carving a perfect hole into the marked section of the golem's leg.

    The effect is instant.

    The glow in its hollow sockets flickers. The runes, still glowing faintly, suddenly dim. And then, like a puppet with cut strings—

    It collapses.

    The massive form breaks apart, not violently, not dramatically—just… falls. Like an old stone wall crumbling under its own weight.

    One moment, it was a towering monster.

    The next, it's just a pile of rocks.

    I float down cautiously, landing lightly on one of my hovering disks before stepping off onto solid ground. The air is still—not the oppressive silence of an active threat, but the peaceful quiet of a problem solved.

    I approach the pile, shifting through the debris until I find what I'm looking for.

    The rune-marked stone. The core of the control system.

    I lift it with my telekinesis, turning it over, studying the carvings.

    Even without knowing the exact spellwork, I can tell this was deliberate—somepony put real effort into this. It wasn't just a collection of floating rocks that happened to animate. This was designed.

    Which means it can be recreated.

    I roll the stone over in my magic, running a hoof over the worn carvings. There's an undeniable itch at the back of my mind, an idea forming even as I slide the rune-marked stone into my saddlebags.

    I should make my own.

    The thought isn't even serious at first. Just an idle musing, something cool to try. But the longer I let it sit, the more it takes root. I don't know how long this thing was out here, or who made it, but the concept works. That's the part that matters.

    A construct that can repair itself? One that adapts?

    That's useful.

    My hooves crunch over shattered bits of rock as I leave the wreckage behind, my mind already running through potential applications. It doesn't have to be a huge, lumbering beast. I could build something smaller, more focused. Something that moves fluidly, that works with a purpose instead of mindless aggression.

    Yeah. That could be useful.

    By the time I reach the H.A.R.D.I.S, I'm still half-distracted by the idea. The moment I step inside, I place the rune stone on my workbench and stare at it, running through everything I know about magical automation.

    Which, admittedly, isn't much.

    Most magic in Equestria requires a constant input. Even enchanted objects—while semi-autonomous—work off pre-set instructions. Something built like this? Something that thinks? That responds dynamically?

    That's something else entirely.

    I shake my head. Later.

    I have other problems to deal with.

    My gaze drifts to the job requests I'd taken earlier, and my stomach sinks slightly when I see Applejack's barn repair request staring right back at me.

    Right.

    Twilight definitely told her.

    Which means I'm going to have to deal with her.

    I groan, rubbing a hoof down my face. It's not like I can just ignore it—I've been slacking on my town duties enough already. And knowing Applejack, she's not the type to dance around issues.

    If I show up at Sweet Apple Acres, I'm getting cornered.

    I sigh heavily, shifting my saddlebags over my back. "Might as well get it over with."

    I step outside, bracing myself.

    Sweet Apple Acres comes into view, the rolling orchards stretching out under the afternoon sun, and I already regret coming here.

    The moment I step onto the farm, I see Applejack near the barn, hauling a few barrels of apples onto a cart. She hasn't noticed me yet, which gives me exactly three seconds of peace before she does.

    And when she does, she perks up immediately.

    "Well, howdy there, friend!" Applejack calls out, waving way too enthusiastically as she trots over. "Didn't expect ya so soon, but it sure is good to see ya, friend!"

    I stop dead in my tracks.

    Oh. Oh, no.

    I knew she was gonna say something about what Twilight told her, but this? This over-the-top, aggressively friendly, almost saccharine behavior?

    This is worse.

    So much worse.

    I stare at her. She keeps grinning.

    "Uh-huh," I say slowly. "Right. The barn?"

    Applejack beams. "O' course, friend! Why don't I just walk ya right over there, nice and friendly-like?"

    I blink at her. "You're doing a thing."

    Her smile doesn't budge. "What thing, friend?"

    I squint. "The excessive 'friend'-ing."

    She waves a hoof dismissively. "Pfft, what? I ain't doin' nothin' special, friend. Just happy to see ya! Mighty nice havin' you here, doin' your town mage friend duties, helpin' out your good, close friends!"

    I hate this.

    She's overcompensating. Hard. I don't even need to guess why. She feels guilty. Because she and the others left me behind in the Everfree, and now that she knows that, she's trying to fix it.

    With friendship.

    I feel my eye twitch.

    "Applejack," I say, deadpan. "Just show me the barn."

    She hesitates for half a second before chuckling, rubbing the back of her neck. "Heh, yeah, alright. This way, fri—uh… Kinetic."

    Finally.

    I follow her toward the barn, pretending I don't hear her muttering to herself about "bein' too obvious."

    I step into the barn, the scent of apples and fresh hay filling the air. It's dim inside, the late afternoon light filtering through the wooden slats, casting long shadows across the ground. Applejack stands beside me, still grinning like she's trying to win an award for most aggressively friendly pony of the year.

    I do my best to ignore it.

    Instead, I focus on the problem.

    I take a slow look around, scanning the wooden structure, the beams, the loft above. The temperature problem could be a few things—bad insulation, improper ventilation, maybe even moisture buildup affecting the airflow.

    I walk over to the vents near the roof, narrowing my eyes.

    That's when I notice it.

    Hay. Stuffed directly into the vents.

    I stare at it.

    I look down at the floor. More hay, bunched up near the walls, packed into crevices where air should be circulating.

    I exhale sharply through my nose.

    "Applejack."

    She straightens up immediately. "Y-yeah, friend?"

    I don't turn around. "You stuffed the vents with hay."

    A beat of silence.

    Then—

    "Well, now, I wouldn't say I stuffed 'em, per se," she says, voice suddenly way too casual. "Maybe just… temporarily adjusted the ventilation."

    I turn my head just enough to look at her. She is not making eye contact.

    I squint. "Why."

    She kicks at the floorboards. "Uh."

    I raise a brow. "Applejack."

    She sighs loudly, removing her hat and holding it against her chest. "Alright, fine," she mutters. "I might have… encouraged the barn to get too warm so ya'd come on out here."

    I blink. "You sabotaged your own barn to get me to show up?"

    She clears her throat, shifting under my stare. "Ah wouldn't say sabotage—"

    "You tampered with the ventilation," I deadpan. "On purpose."

    She rubs the back of her neck, chuckling awkwardly. "Well, ya weren't exactly comin' round on your own, now were ya?"

    I groan, dragging a hoof down my face. "Applejack."

    "Now, hold on, it ain't like Ah broke the whole dang thing!" she protests. "Ah just… helped it along a little."

    I turn fully to face her, exasperation clear on my face. "And you thought that was the best way to get me to talk?"

    She shrugs, grinning sheepishly. "Well… ya are here, ain't ya?"

    I stare at her.

    She stares back.

    She is completely unrepentant.

    I groan again, louder this time. "I'm charging you for this."

    She laughs. "C'mon now, friend, no need to get all fussy."

    I pull another wad of hay out of the vent and toss it onto the pile behind me, resisting the urge to chuck it at Applejack's smug face.

    "Sabotaging your own farm just to get me here," I mutter. "Y'know, normal ponies just send a letter."

    She snickers. "Ain't never claimed to be normal."

    I huff. "Clearly."

    For a moment, there's only the sound of shifting hay as I continue pulling the mess apart. I'm already thinking about how to fix the airflow properly—maybe some insulation along the outer walls, something to keep the temperature steady overnight.

    Then Applejack clears her throat.

    "So," she says, a little too casual. "What'd ya tell Twilight?"

    I freeze.

    My hooves pause mid-motion, gripping a bundle of hay just a little too tight.

    I inhale slowly. Exhale.

    Then, carefully, I resume working. "Nothing important."

    Applejack isn't buying it. "Twilight don't exactly make a fuss over 'nothin' important.'"

    I grit my teeth. "That's not true and you know it."

    She doesn't respond right away, but I can feel her eyes on me, watching. Thinking.

    Then, softly, "Y'know we just wanna help, right?"

    I snort. "Yeah, sure. Real helpful. Like the whole pretending I didn't exist thing. That was a fantastic move."

    She flinches. I hear it, even if I don't see it.

    "...That weren't fair," she mutters.

    I turn to her, expression flat. "Wasn't it?"

    Her ears flick back. "We didn't do it t' hurt ya."

    "Yeah?" I let out a bitter chuckle, stepping down from a ladder. "Then what was it supposed to do, exactly? Because it sure felt like you were proving Discord right."

    Applejack's jaw tightens. "That ain't what we were doin'. We—" She hesitates. "We were tryin' t' get you t' see how much it hurt, pushin' us away like that."

    I blink. Stare at her. Then I laugh. Hard.

    Applejack frowns. "What's so funny?"

    I wipe at my eye, still grinning, but there's nothing warm about it. "So your plan to show me that I wasn't alone was to... leave me alone? Genius."

    She shifts her weight, uncomfortable. "When ya say it like that—"

    I scoff, stepping past her. "No, seriously. That's brilliant. Grade-A logic. Maybe next time somepony's drowning, you can throw 'em an anchor."

    Applejack exhales sharply, closing her eyes for a second like she's trying to keep her cool. "We messed up, alright?"

    I don't answer.

    Because of course they messed up. And I know, I know they didn't mean it that way, that they weren't trying to prove Discord right.

    But for a day, they did.

    For a day, I didn't exist.

    And no matter how much I tell myself it doesn't matter, that they were just trying to make a point—

    It does.

    Applejack sighs. "...Look. Ah know we went about it wrong. But Ah meant what Ah said. We wanna make it right."

    I don't respond right away. Just breathe.

    Finally, I shake my head. "Just show me the rest of the barn, AJ."

    She watches me for a second longer. Then, slowly, she nods.

    "...Alright, sugarcube."

    And for now, we move on.

    Fixing the ventilation doesn't take long once I actually focus. I clear out the vents, adjust the airflow, and make a few minor tweaks to help regulate the temperature better. Simple. Practical. Something I can actually fix.

    Unlike… everything else.

    Applejack stays nearby the whole time, quieter than usual. She doesn't try to push me anymore—not directly—but I can feel it in the way she lingers, in the way she glances at me like she wants to say something but keeps deciding against it.

    She feels bad. I know that.

    And maybe she should.

    But I don't hold it against her. Not really.

    I get it.

    They didn't mean to leave me behind. It wasn't some malicious choice. It wasn't even a choice at all—it was instinct. And that's just it, isn't it? It's their nature. They're heroes. Main characters. They move together, pull each other up, and when push comes to shove, they save each other.

    And I?

    I just exist around them.

    A reoccurring guest star in their grand adventure.

    I don't say that to Applejack, though. Because saying it wouldn't change anything. It would just make her feel worse, and I don't have the energy to deal with that.

    Instead, when the job is done and the barn's temperature is stable, I pack up my saddlebags, adjust the strap, and step outside.

    Applejack follows. "Kinetic—"

    I hold up a hoof. "Don't."

    She closes her mouth, frowning.

    I sigh, rolling my shoulders. "Barn's fixed. Shouldn't give you trouble anymore."

    She hesitates, like she wants to argue, like she wants to say something real, but instead, she just nods. "Alright. Thanks."

    I nod back, turn, and start walking.

    The late afternoon sun hangs low, painting the fields in shades of gold and amber. The smell of apples drifts through the air, crisp and sweet. It's peaceful. A good place.

    Just not my place.

    When I step through the door of my home the familiar weight of the place settles around me. The cool, white glow from the false windows, the smooth stone floor beneath my hooves, the impossibly vast space stretching beyond what the exterior should allow.

    It's comfortable. It's mine.

    And yet, as I set my saddlebags down and let out a slow breath, a thought I've been pushing down for days forces its way back up.

    I could move.

    It wouldn't be hard. I have bits saved up. My job isn't exactly specialized—any town in Equestria would benefit from an Archmage, even a fake one. And let's be honest, it's not like I'd struggle to impress a new mayor with a bit of carefully applied "magic."

    The thought twists in my gut.

    I don't hate Ponyville. I don't hate my job. If anything, it's easy—simple problems, simple solutions, so long as I frame them the right way. Superstitious medieval ponies are nothing if not eager to accept a magic explanation over anything grounded in real-world science.

    And it's not like I dislike the girls.

    They're good ponies.

    They mean well.

    I just wish they'd treat me like they did before I spilled my guts.

    Before Twilight made me say all of that.

    Before Applejack looked at me like she owed me something.

    Before Pinkie nearly vibrated out of her own skin trying to pretend I wasn't there.

    Before Sweetie Belle—Sweetie Belle—had to be told not to talk to me.

    They used to treat me like me. Like Kinetic Flux, the smug, ridiculous town mage who definitely knew what he was doing, thank you very much.

    Now?

    Now I feel like I'm walking around in a different skin.

    A different role.

    Like I've become a problem to solve.

    I hate that.

    I don't need to be fixed. I just want things to go back to how they were.

    But I know they won't.

    Not completely.

    Not ever.

    I rub my face, groaning. "Ugh. Stupid. This is stupid."

    Moving isn't the answer. I like my home. I like my job. Leaving won't fix this—it'll just start it all over somewhere else.

    I sigh and flop down onto the couch, staring up at the blank ceiling.

    I'll figure this out. I have to.

    Maybe I just need time.

    Maybe they do.

    I close my eyes.

    Either way…

    I don't think I'll be getting much sleep tonight.

    I wake up to the sound of distant chatter and movement outside. Ponyville's already waking up, ponies out and about, setting up decorations and stalls. I drag myself out of bed, stretching with a tired groan. As I rub the sleep from my eyes, I glance toward my window.

    It's glowing white, like it always does. My H.A.R.D.I.S. may be a house, but its windows don't actually lead outside. Just a quirk of its magic. I have to step out the front door to see what's going on.

    And when I do…

    Ponies. Everywhere.

    I blink blearily at the scene before me. Banners, tables, food stands, games—costumed ponies darting between them, setting up for something.

    I rub my chin. "What the…?"

    I see foals running past, wearing fake bat wings and fangs, some dressed as ghosts or skeletons. Ponies are hanging up fake spider webs and placing enchanted candles in carved pumpkins.

    I squint.

    Right. Nightmare Night.

    And, once again, I'm the last one to know about it.

    I sigh, rubbing my face. I should've expected this. I really should've. I swear, this town just assumes I'll figure things out eventually, like I've absorbed Ponyville's entire event calendar by sheer osmosis.

    But fine. Whatever. It's a holiday. I can roll with that.

    First things first—I need a costume.

    Something simple. Something cheap. Something easy.

    I glance toward the Everfree Forest, my mind already working.

    A short walk later, I find myself near the tree line, scanning the ground for decent-sized stones. I lift a few with my magic, testing their weight, before settling on some that aren't too heavy.

    I start arranging them around myself with careful levitation. Nothing fancy—just layering the stones in a way that gives me a roughly golem-like silhouette. I place a few over my back, letting them rest gently against my shoulders with precise telekinesis. A few more form rough "gauntlets" over my hooves, making them look heavier than they actually are.

    To anypony else, it'll just seem like I'm just stones moving by magic. Which, technically, they are.

    I glance at my reflection in a nearby puddle.

    A lumpy, jagged rock pony stares back.

    Perfect.

    It's not elegant, but it gets the job done. It's cheap, easy, and best of all—nopony will recognize me in this.

    With a satisfied nod, I turn and start heading toward town, already looking forward to blending into the crowd for once.

    I wander through the town square, blending into the crowd in a way I haven't been able to for a while.

    And it's glorious.

    No pitying glances. No forced smiles. No awkward 'we're trying to make it up to you' nonsense. Just ponies enjoying the festival, laughing, chatting, buying and selling.

    And me?

    Just another face in the crowd.

    Okay, technically, I'm more of an animated pile of rocks in the crowd, but still.

    I get to exist without ponies treating me a certain way. Without Twilight's careful watching, without Applejack's forced friendliness.

    I can breathe.

    I stop at a food stall, trading a few bits for a caramel apple, my voice deliberately rough and gruff to sell the disguise. The vendor doesn't hesitate, doesn't do a double-take—just nods, takes my bits, and moves on to the next customer.

    No weird looks.

    No pity.

    Just… normal interaction.

    It's so much better than earlier.

    I meander through the square, stopping at different stalls, bartering for trinkets, sampling festival treats. It's nice. A little lonely, sure, but I'll take lonely over being some sort of social project any day.

    For the first time in what feels like forever, I feel comfortable.

    Then, I hear an excited voice

    chirping behind me. "Whoa! Look at that golem costume!"

    I turn slightly, seeing a small unicorn colt dressed as a pirate, complete with an bandana hat and an eye patch that keeps slipping down his face. He's surrounded by two other foals—one in a werewolf outfit, the other as a very ambitious-looking dragon with tiny cardboard wings.

    The pirate colt beams up at me. "That's so cool! How'd you do it? Are the rocks real?"

    I let out a low, gravelly chuckle, making sure to keep my tone gruff and grinding. "Oh, these aren't just a costume, little guy," I say, shifting the stones slightly for dramatic effect. "This is a curse."

    The foals' eyes widen, but then the dragon one narrows. The foals' eyes widen, but then the dragon one narrows his. "Nuh-uh. You're just using magic."

    I tilt my head, letting the stones grind together with a deep rumbling sound. "That's what I said to the last pony who was cursed."

    The pirate colt gasps, immediately stepping back. "W-what do you mean?"

    I lean down, lowering my voice. "Long ago, I made a deal—one I didn't fully understand. I thought I was getting immortal life… but then, when I woke up, I was this." I let the stones shift again, hollowing out my eye sockets for added effect. "I tried to remove the rocks, but they wouldn't budge. They've become me."

    The werewolf filly frowns. "That doesn't make sense."

    I let out a long, slow sigh. "That's what I thought too. I struggled and spit and cursed, but nothing worked, nothing could free me. Until I realized the only way to be free…" I pause, drawing it out, letting them lean in.

    "…is to pass it on."

    Dead silence.

    Then, all at once, the foals let out a chorus of terrified shrieks and bolt, scampering off into the crowd. The pirate colt loses his hat in his panic, but doesn't even slow down to retrieve it.

    I chuckle, levitating the hat up and setting it on a nearby barrel. "Happy Nightmare Night," I say to no one in particular, popping the last of my caramel apple into my mouth.

    As I turn to wander further into the festivities, something feels… off.

    The atmosphere has changed.

    Ponies are no longer chatting, laughing, or darting between stalls. Instead, they're huddled together, frozen in place, their gazes locked on something in the town square.

    A deep, booming voice shakes the air.

    "WE DEMAND ANSWERS, TWILIGHT SPARKLE! WHY DOST THOU CONTINUE TO EVADE THE QUESTION?"

    I wince. Oh. That's why.

    The Royal Canterlot Voice is rattling windows, sending decorations tumbling, and reducing at least two carnival game stands to splinters. And standing right at the center of it all, wings flared, towering over the terrified crowd, is none other than Princess Luna herself.

    Twilight Sparkle stands next to her, ears flat against her skull, her tail twitching with barely-contained stress. Even from here, I can see the way her eye twitches—like she's just barely holding back a very public meltdown.

    I really should just turn around and walk the other way.

    But, of course, Luna's eyes sweep the crowd, and the moment she spots me, they narrow.

    "AH! THERE THOU ART, ARCHMAGE KINETIC FLUX!" she bellows, making sure everypony hears it.

    I sigh, rubbing a hoof—I mean, a rock—against my face. Well. So much for a quiet night.

    Ponies glance at me in confusion, murmuring amongst themselves. I can already hear the questions forming.

    Who? Kinetic Flux? Where?

    I cough and step forward, trying to move as naturally as possible in my floating rock disguise. "Oh hey, Luna," I say casually, rolling my shoulders. "Didn't see you there. You know, over all the shouting."

    She stomps a hoof, rattling the ground. "IT IS NIGHTMARE NIGHT! WE MUST HONOR TRADITION BY SPEAKING AS THE ROYALS OF OLD!"

    I squint up at her. "Luna. You live in a castle with Celestia. Do you talk to her like this?"

    She blinks. "OF COURSE NOT."

    "Do you talk to your guards like this?"

    "NAY."

    "What about your assistants?"

    She snorts. "OBVIOUSLY NOT."

    "So you choose to scream at just me and Twilight?" I ask, arching a brow—or at least shifting a rock where my brow would be.

    Luna opens her mouth—then pauses.

    She shifts on her hooves. "IT IS DIFFERENT."

    "Uh-huh." I smirk. "Right. Totally different."

    Luna's wings twitch. "WE SIMPLY WISHED TO—" she catches herself, clears her throat, and—shockingly—drops her voice to normal volume. "We simply wished to make our presence known. Properly."

    Twilight lets out a strangled noise. "You knocked over an entire candy stand."

    "Twas poorly built," Luna sniffs.

    "You collapsed half of the festival tents."

    "The stakes were weak."

    "You scared away half the foals!" Twilight's eye twitches again.

    Luna waves a hoof. "They shall recover."

    Twilight groans, rubbing her temples. "Why am I even arguing—You know what? Fine. I give up. Kinetic, please talk some sense into her."

    I blink, taking a step back. "Oh no. Absolutely not. I'm just here for the candy and the trauma-inducing pranks. This is your friendship lesson, Sparkle."

    Twilight groans again, muttering something exceptionally rude under her breath.

    Luna smirks. "Twilight Sparkle doth not appreciate our festive spirit."

    I snort. "Yeah, she's always been a little boring when it comes to—"

    Twilight's head snaps toward me so fast I swear I hear a crack.

    I raise my hooves—er, floating rocks. "Okay, okay! I take it back. I take it back."

    Twilight glares for a moment longer before exhaling sharply. "I swear you and Luna share the same brand of maddening." She glances between us, eyes narrowing.

    Luna and I exchange a look.

    Then simultaneously smile.

    "Nonsense," I say.

    "Preposterous," Luna agrees.

    Twilight looks about two seconds away from setting something on fire.

    I grin. Maybe tonight won't be so bad.

    Luna's smirk fades slightly as she glances around at the scattering foals, some still peeking nervously from behind stalls and lampposts. Her ears dip, her posture shifting ever so slightly. "We… may have overdone it," she admits, voice much softer now. "T'would seem the little ones truly fear us."

    I blink. Huh. Didn't expect her to actually say it.

    I let out a small sigh and shrug. "Yeah, they probably do. But, y'know, it's kind of a game, Luna. The whole Nightmare Night thing? The kids want to be scared. Just not… y'know, actually terrified." I gesture to the pirate colt from earlier, who's still warily peeking from behind a food stand. "They run, they scream, but five minutes later they're right back to stuffing their faces with candy and playing carnival games."

    Luna frowns, following my gaze. "We know this holiday is meant for jests and merriment, yet…" She exhales, wings shifting as she gazes out at the festival. "It doth sting more than we expected."

    I fold my forelegs—er, rocks. "Yeah, well. You did kinda try to take over the world two weeks ago. Not exactly ancient history."

    She glares at me.

    I smirk. "I mean, hey, I'm just saying, you might wanna give it more than a fortnight before expecting ponies to start throwing you parties."

    She scoffs. "We do not expect such things! We merely…" She trails off, hesitating.

    I tilt my head. "What?"

    Luna looks away for a moment, then, voice barely above a whisper, mutters, "We wish to take this night back."

    I blink.

    "…Huh."

    She looks at me again, eyes filled with something I can't quite place. "Nightmare Night—'tis built upon the legend of us. The boogeymare in the shadows. The great, dark villain to be feared." Her expression darkens. "We… we are not her anymore. And we do not wish to be remembered only as a monster."

    I stare at her for a moment.

    Then, sighing, I rub the back of my head. "Alright, look." I gesture around us. "Ponies love their traditions. You can't just show up after a thousand years and expect them to change overnight."

    Luna huffs. "We are aware."

    "But," I continue, "that doesn't mean you can't change things. It just means you have to work for it." I gesture to Twilight, who's been silent, watching the exchange with a wary sort of curiosity. "Case in point: Sparky over there. She's good at making ponies listen."

    Twilight blinks. "Uh, excuse me?"

    I wave her off. "Point is, if you wanna convince everypony you're more than just some scary story, you're gonna have to show them. She can help. You can't just make a big royal entrance and expect them to suddenly throw roses at your hooves."

    Luna gives me a flat look. "That was not our expectation."

    I raise a brow.

    She exhales sharply. "Fine. Mayhaps it was a little our expectation."

    I smirk. "Admitting you have a problem is the first step in recovery."

    She eyes me suspiciously. "And dost thou believe this… attempt of ours shall fail?"

    "Oh, absolutely." I grin. "But I still wanna see you try."

    Her glare is fiery.

    Twilight groans. "This is the worst team-up in history."

    "Yeah, probably," I admit, cracking my floating rock neck. "But hey. It's Nightmare Night. Let's make it interesting."

    Luna's attempt to reclaim her night is, to put it bluntly, an absolute disaster.

    Every time she takes a step toward a group of foals, they scream and scatter like frightened birds. Every time she tries to greet a pony, they shriek and bolt for cover. Even Pinkie Pie, of all ponies, lets out an exaggerated gasp, flails her hooves, and vanishes in a blur of cotton candy-colored terror the moment Luna so much as glances in her direction.

    Luna watches all of this unfold with increasing frustration.

    I, meanwhile, am doing everything in my power not to laugh myself into a coma.

    I mean, come on. She's got the most aggressively disappointed look I've ever seen. Like she's a parent watching their kid run face-first into the same door for the fifth time in a row.

    Luna huffs, her wings flaring as she rounds on me. "THOU FINDETH THIS AMUSING, DO YE?"

    I hold up a floating stone hoof, wheezing. "Luna, I am begging you. Please, please don't stop. This is the best entertainment I've had in months."

    She glares. "WE ARE SUFFERING, KINETIC."

    "I know!" I wipe at an imaginary tear. "It's great!"

    Twilight groans next to me. "You could be a little more supportive, you know."

    I glance at her. "Hey, I'm very supportive."

    Twilight raises a brow.

    "I'm supporting her attempts," I clarify, grinning. "I'm just also supporting my right to find this absolutely hysterical."

    Luna mutters something that sounds suspiciously like an ancient curse under her breath.

    Twilight sighs, rubbing the bridge of her nose. I notice, once again, the way she keeps sneaking quick glances at me—like she's checking to make sure I'm still in one piece.

    Still treating me like I might shatter at any second.

    I exhale, tilting my head toward her. "You do know you don't have to handle me like I'm some fragile artifact, right?"

    Twilight stiffens. "I—That's not—" She stops, face twitching through at least three emotions before settling on a very uncomfortable frown. "…I don't know what you're talking about."

    I give her the flattest look imaginable. "Uh-huh. Right. Totally."

    She shifts, avoiding my eyes. "I just—we just—" She hesitates, then finally says, "You did kind of have a breakdown, Kinetic."

    I roll my eyes. "Yeah, I noticed."

    Twilight frowns deeper. "It was bad."

    I shrug. "And?"

    "And we—I—" She exhales sharply. "I don't know how to treat you anymore."

    That actually catches me off guard.

    I blink, the humor draining from my face just a little. "Twilight—"

    "EVERYCREATURE CEASE THY WHISPERING!"

    Luna's sudden bellow nearly makes me jump out of my disguise.

    We both turn to see her looming over Pinkie, who has backed herself against a wall, eyes wide and jittery.

    Luna leans down, smiling in what I assume is meant to be a friendly manner but mostly just looks like a cryptid discovering the concept of joy for the first time. "GREETINGS, PINKAMENA DIANE PIE! WE WISH TO PARTAKE IN THY FESTIVE MERRIMENT!"

    Pinkie's pupils shrink to pinpricks. Then she lets out a high-pitched EEEEEEEEE— and rockets off into the night, trailing a dust cloud behind her.

    Luna's eye twitches.

    I cough into my hoof. "You may need a different approach."

    She whips around to me. "WE SHALL ACCEPT NO DEFEAT!"

    Luna squares her shoulders, takes a deep breath, and approaches the next group of foals with gritted enthusiasm.

    "GREETINGS, SMALL ONES! WE WISH TO ENJOY THIS NIGHT OF FRIGHTS ALONGSIDE THEE!"

    Before she can gauge their reaction, a shriek pierces the air. A tiny colt in a pirate outfit—complete with a bandana—topples headfirst into the bobbing-for-apples bucket, his little legs flailing helplessly above the water. Without thinking, Luna lunges forward and snatches him up by the scruff of his neck, hoisting him safely onto the ground.

    There's a moment of stunned silence.

    Then Pinkie Pie gasps dramatically. "She was gonna gobble him up!"

    Luna's wings flare in alarm. "TIS A LIE! THY BACKSIDES REMAIN WHOLE AND UNGOBBLED!"

    But the foals don't wait for an explanation—they shriek and scatter like a flock of terrified pigeons.

    Luna visibly deflates.

    I watch as she stares at the empty spot where the foals had been just moments before. Her ears droop. Her wings sag. The light in her eyes dims just a little. The sadness has obviously hit deeper his time.

    And for the first time tonight, I don't find it funny.

    Secondhand embarrassment starts creeping up my spine. I shift on my floating stones, suddenly feeling awkward.

    This isn't just frustrating for her anymore—it's actually starting to hurt.

    She wanted to be a part of their fun. She wanted to be more than just a shadow lurking in the background of their legends.

    And now?

    Now she's just standing there, watching ponies run from her, like she's still some villain. Like Nightmare Moon never left.

    I rub the back of my head. "Luna…"

    She exhales sharply, standing tall again, but I can see the stiffness in her posture. The way she's forcing herself to act like it doesn't bother her. "PERHAPS OUR PRESENCE IS NOT REQUIRED."

    I wince.

    Okay. Yeah. This has gone far enough.

    I'm not the sentimental type, but even I know when a joke has stopped being funny.

    I open my mouth to say something—anything to break the tension—when a certain pink menace reappears.

    "AH-HA!" Pinkie Pie skids to a stop in front of us, pointing an accusatory hoof at Luna. "YOU'RE GONNA GOBBLE US UP!"

    Luna flinches.

    Pinkie, oblivious, continues. "I KNEW IT! NIGHTMARE MOON'S STILL IN THERE! YOU'RE JUST WAITING FOR THE RIGHT MOMENT TO—"

    "ENOUGH."

    Luna's voice isn't booming this time. It's not shaking the trees or rattling the windows.

    But it cuts through the air.

    Even Pinkie stops cold, blinking up at her.

    Luna inhales deeply, then lets it out in a slow, controlled breath. When she speaks again, her voice is quieter. Not weak. Just… tired.

    "We are not Nightmare Moon," she says, gaze heavy. "We do not wish to bring thee harm."

    Pinkie frowns, clearly thrown off by the shift in tone. "But—"

    "We only wish to partake in this night. We only wish to… belong."

    For a moment, no one speaks.

    Luna shifts slightly, her eyes flicking downward. "Perhaps that is impossible."

    And suddenly, I am deeply uncomfortable.

    Because I know that look. I've worn that look.

    That's the look of someone who wants to be a part of something but has convinced themselves they never truly can.

    And I hate it.

    Twilight, to her credit, steps forward, looking torn between regret and determination. "Luna, wait—"

    And then, from the side, a small, trembling voice pipes up.

    "Wait."

    Everyone turns.

    The little pirate colt from earlier is peeking out from behind a barrel, hesitating.

    He looks at Luna. Then back at Pinkie. Then back at Luna again. "S-she hasn't eaten anypony yet…"

    Luna blinks.

    Pinkie tilts her head. "Huh."

    The colt steps forward, hesitantly. "M-maybe she really just wants to play?"

    Pinkie's eyes narrow, gears visibly turning in her head. "…But what if she gobbles you up the second you let your guard down?"

    The colt looks at Luna again.

    "…I dunno," he says. "She just looks kinda lonely."

    Luna's eyes widen slightly.

    I let out a slow breath.

    The shift is small at first. A few foals peeking out from hiding places. A few murmurs. And then, finally, after a long moment, Pinkie gasps dramatically.

    "Well, why didn't you say so?"

    Luna blinks. "Say…?"

    "If you just wanted to have fun, you gotta do it the Pinkie Pie way!"

    Pinkie zips forward, grabbing Luna's hoof. "C'mon! We'll show you how to have the best Nightmare Night ever!"

    And just like that, it changes.

    Luna is dragged into the festivities. The foals are hesitant at first, but soon, they're showing her the games, laughing at her enthusiasm, and explaining the silly traditions that once painted her as a monster.

    I lean back on my floating rocks, watching the chaos unfold.

    Well. I didn't have to step in. That's a relief.

    Not that I wouldn't have, but, y'know. Feelings. Gross.

    Luna's already having a blast, her initial awkwardness melting away as the foals pull her from game to game. There's still hesitation, a bit of lingering wariness from some ponies, but she's in. She's part of it. And she's smiling.

    Which is good. I'd rather not see her mope again. That was… uncomfortable.

    I turn to Twilight, but she's already watching me with that unreadable expression.

    I narrow my eyes. "What."

    She hums thoughtfully. "It's funny."

    I arch a brow. "I'm not laughing."

    She gives me a too-sweet smile. "If only somepony else let ponies in like that."

    I physically recoil.

    "Oh, no. Nope. We're not doing this." I shake my head and wave a hoof—er, rock—at her. "Don't even try to flip this back on me, Sparkle. This is about Luna."

    Twilight shrugs, her smugness barely contained. "Mmm, sure."

    I grit my teeth. "I am not a friendship project, Twilight."

    "Never said you were." She flicks her tail, voice obnoxiously casual. "Just observing."

    I scowl. "Observe somewhere else."

    Twilight just chuckles as I grumble to myself.

    Unbelievable.

    Of course she'd turn this into some kind of friendship lesson. She can't help herself. It's like a compulsion at this point. Probably gets a magical migraine if she goes too long without shoehorning some kind of moral into a conversation.

    I shake my head, sighing. Whatever. Not my problem.

    I adjust the floating rocks around me and prepare to slip back into the crowd, but Twilight is still staring at me.

    I groan. "What now, Sparkle?"

    She gives me that same knowing look. "You should spend more time with us."

    I blink. "Huh?"

    "You know," she gestures vaguely. "The girls. You don't hang out much. You should."

    I scoff, waving her off. "I work, Twilight. Unlike certain ponies who get to just study friendship for a living, I actually have responsibilities."

    She raises a brow. "Your responsibilities include running your mouth and occasionally pretending to cast spells when ponies need you to fix something."

    I put a hoof to my chest, scandalized. "First of all, how dare you."

    She smirks.

    I huff. "Second, I'm busy with other things, too."

    "Like what?"

    "Like… research," I say, nodding to myself. "You think it's easy mimicking actual magic with telekinesis and physics? It takes work."

    Twilight rolls her eyes. "Kinetic, I research actual magic, and I still find time to go outside."

    I scoff. "Yeah, well, good for you, Sparkle. Not all of us have the privilege of being a government-funded friendship gremlin."

    Her smirk grows. "So what you're saying is you're just not as good as me at time management."

    I scowl. "I have important work to do."

    She tilts her head. "Like what?"

    I scramble for another excuse. "Like… keeping up appearances! You know how fragile my reputation is? If ponies start seeing me lounging around with you guys all the time, they'll start questioning my authority."

    She deadpans. "Oh, yes. Because nothing screams mysterious, powerful mage like wandering around Ponyville in a rock costume and scaring foals with fake curses."

    I point at her. "Exactly."

    She points back. "That's not supporting your case."

    I grit my teeth. "Okay, fine, then what if—" I snap my hoof. "Reading! I read a lot. You know. Gotta stay informed."

    Twilight's smirk twitches wider. "Oh? What was the last thing you read?"

    I immediately regret my words.

    I scramble for something, anything, but all that comes to mind is last week's Ponyville Express, and maybe a sign above some store doors.

    "…It was technical," I say vaguely.

    She raises an eyebrow.

    I double down. "Advanced theory. Very niche."

    She's not buying it.

    I can feel the skepticism radiating off her like heat from a forge.

    Twilight tilts her head, looking far too smug for my liking. "So you do spend time reading?"

    I cross my floating rock legs. "Obviously."

    She hums. "Then you do take time for yourself. You do have time for things other than work."

    I pause, and then narrow my eyes. "…That doesn't count."

    Twilight blinks, then smirks. "Why not?"

    I scowl. "Because... shut up."

    She actually laughs. Full-on, head-tilted, shoulders-shaking laughs.

    I roll my eyes. "Glad I could amuse you, Sparkle."

    She grins. "I'm just amazed at how bad you are at arguing against your own well-being."

    I groan, rubbing my face with a floating rock. "Twilight, why are you like this?"

    "Like what?" she asks, all fake innocence, tilting her head like she hasn't made it her mission to be the most infuriating pony alive.

    I gesture vaguely. "Like some kind of... personal growth tax collector. Just going around, making sure everypony is 'emotionally well-adjusted' and 'has a social life' or whatever."

    She raises a brow. "Wow. That's a lot of words just to say, 'I don't want to admit I need friends.'"

    I groan louder, dramatically flopping back onto my floating rock formation. "I have friends, Twilight. I just—" I wave my hooves. "—I just don't need to do the whole... group activities, 'let's all hang out and share our feelings' thing."

    Twilight taps her chin. "So what you're saying is you prefer one-on-one interactions?"

    "Yes! Exactly." I nod firmly. "One-on-one interactions are fine. Preferable, even. Much less overwhelming."

    She smiles sweetly. "Perfect. You can spend the day at Fluttershy's, then."

    I freeze.

    "Wait—"

    "Fluttershy is one pony. You did just say one-on-one interactions are preferable."

    I narrow my eyes. "You set me up."

    Twilight flicks her tail, smirking. "Maybe."

    I scowl. "Fluttershy doesn't even like me."

    Twilight's expression shifts, her smirk softening just a little. "That's not true."

    I roll my eyes. "Oh, come on, Sparkle. We both know she's still freaked out by me after the parasprite thing."

    Twilight frowns slightly but doesn't deny it.

    Good. Because I'm right.

    Sure, Fluttershy said she understood why I did it. Logically, she knew we couldn't just let the little abominations eat the town into the dirt. But watching me pop them into bloody smears? That had shaken her.

    She had flinched at me.

    Tried to hide it, but I saw it.

    And that's not the kind of thing that just goes away.

    I huff, crossing my forelegs. "So, again, why exactly would I go over there?"

    Twilight exhales, rolling her eyes. "Because that's exactly why you should spend time together."

    I blink. "What?"

    She gives me that infuriatingly patient look—like she's explaining basic math to a particularly dense foal. "You think Fluttershy doesn't like you. But have you actually talked to her about it? Like, at all?"

    I hesitate. "That's not—"

    Twilight smirks. "You haven't."

    I scowl. "That's not the point."

    "It kind of is, though," she presses. "If you just assume she doesn't want anything to do with you, and she assumes you don't want anything to do with her, then of course nothing's going to change."

    I scowl harder, feeling very done with this conversation. "Maybe nothing needs to change, Twilight. We don't talk, she doesn't talk to me, we exist in separate circles, and everything is fine."

    Twilight just hums in that obnoxious way that means she's already decided I'm wrong. "Uh-huh. And if you actually talked, you might realize that neither of you actually hate each other."

    I scoff. "Didn't say she hates me."

    "You implied it."

    I grit my teeth. "Twilight—"

    "And even if she was nervous around you at first, that was a while ago. She's not afraid of you now."

    I snort. "Oh yeah? She's done a fantastic job proving that by never speaking to me since then."

    Twilight exhales through her nose, clearly trying to be patient. "Look, you two just… never had a reason to talk. And that's exactly why this is a good idea."

    I narrow my eyes. "You're still not making a good case for why I should do this."

    Twilight's smirk twitches wider. "Well, Rainbow Dash is going to be there too."

    I blink.

    Then immediately scowl.

    "Hold on. That's two ponies."

    Twilight shrugs, far too pleased with herself. "Guess you'll just have to endure."

    I point a hoof at her. "You lied to me."

    "I did no such thing."

    "You said one-on-one interactions."

    "I said they were preferable," she corrects, looking unbearably smug. "I never said you wouldn't be dealing with multiple ponies."

    I stare at her, utterly betrayed. "I hope your entire book collection spontaneously combusts."

    Twilight just gives me the most obnoxiously sweet smile imaginable. "Not happening. I have protective wards around my shelves."

    I groan, throwing my hooves up. "Of course you do. You're insufferable."

    She nods in mock gravity. "So I've been told."

    Why is it so hard to say no to her?

    "Fine," I growl, already feeling my defenses crumble under her relentless positivity. "Fine. I'll… go to Fluttershy's. And meet with Rainbow Dash too. Great. Fantastic."

    Twilight's grin widens. "I knew you'd see reason."

    I roll my eyes so hard I'm surprised they don't pop out. "It's not reason; it's me giving up just so you'll stop bugging me."

    She doesn't even try to deny it, just lifts her chin in victory. "Well, if it gets you there, I can live with that."

    "Whatever," I mutter, turning away. "I'm done here, Sparkle. Goodnight."

    "Goodnight, Kinetic," she calls after me, her tone still far too smug. "See you tomorrow!"

    I don't bother responding. I just march off into the night, the distant sounds of Nightmare Night festivities fading behind me as I head back to the H.A.R.D.I.S.

    Once inside, I can't help but pause in the entryway. The place is as silent and strangely vast as ever. There's a chill in the air—maybe just from the lingering autumn cold. Or maybe from something else entirely.

    I sigh, rubbing the back of my neck with a hoof. "Great. Another social obligation tomorrow."

    I force a snort. "Hope they at least have decent snacks."

    Grumbling to myself, I head to my room. The bed's as soft as ever, and it's mine.

    I flop onto the covers with a weary groan, shutting my eyes. My thoughts churn—frustration at Twilight, a flicker of old anxiety about Fluttershy, and a little dread about Rainbow's inevitable teasing.

    But it's Nightmare Night, and I'm bone tired. Within minutes, I feel the tension in my muscles fade, my grumbling turning to a half-asleep mumble. I drift off to the muffled sounds of distant ponies still celebrating outside, the faint echoes of laughter and music seeping through the H.A.R.D.I.S.'s walls.

    Tomorrow can sort itself out. For now, I'm done.
     
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    • I wake up feeling... fine.

    Not good. Not bad. Just fine.

    Which is honestly better than usual.

    I stretch, cracking a few joints before rolling out of bed. My usual routine follows—coffee, ignoring the impossibly vast hallways of the H.A.R.D.I.S., its occasional strange noises and shifting, and staring blankly at a wall for a few minutes while my brain catches up.

    Then I remember what I agreed to.

    I groan, rubbing my temples. Right. Fluttershy's. Tea. Sitting awkwardly while she and Rainbow talk.

    Not ideal, but it's not the worst thing in the world.

    I've done worse.

    I pull on my cloak—because obviously, I need to keep up appearances even if I'm just going to sit in somepony's cottage for an hour—and saddlebags and head out.

    Fluttershy's cottage is exactly what I expect it to be: small, cozy, and teeming with little critters that I pointedly ignore.

    The door opens within seconds of my knock, revealing Fluttershy, who blinks up at me with a soft smile.

    "Oh! You actually came."

    I frown. "You sound surprised."

    She shifts slightly. "Oh, um. Not surprised. Just… glad."

    Huh.

    I clear my throat. "Yeah, well. Twilight's insufferable, and I figured it's easier to just get this over with."

    Fluttershy's smile twitches. "Well, um… come in."

    I step inside, mentally preparing myself for the awkwardness.

    To my disappointment, Rainbow Dash is nowhere in sight.

    Fluttershy notices me looking and quietly says, "She's coming. She had weather duty this morning."

    I just grunt in acknowledgment and move to sit on the couch.

    Fluttershy flits into the kitchen, preparing the tea, moving softly and deliberately like she's trying not to startle me.

    Which is... odd, I guess she's always been jumpy though.

    I let the silence settle between us, figuring she'll talk if she wants to.

    And, surprisingly, she does.

    "So… how is your apprentice doing?" she asks as she sets a cup of tea in front of me.

    I blink, caught slightly off guard. "Sweetie Belle?"

    Fluttershy nods.

    I shift, shrugging. It's just Fluttershy, what could it hurt? "She's fine, I guess. Still excited about learning. Still eager to show me every tiny bit of progress she makes."

    There's a pause, and then she asks, "Are you happy about that?"

    I snort. "Of course. She's a good kid. Bright. Eager. Too eager, sometimes."

    Fluttershy tilts her head slightly, listening patiently.

    I lean back a little, crossing my forelegs. "She reminds me why I bother with all this. Teaching her is fun. She actually wants to learn from me."

    I glance down at my tea, my jaw tightening slightly. "Or… she did."

    Fluttershy says nothing, waiting.

    I huff. "It's just… when Discord messed with my head, when everypony was trying to get me to break, to admit something was wrong… she ignored me too."

    I pick up the teacup, swirling it absently. "I get why Twilight and the others did it. They're obsessed with making every problem a group project. But Sweetie? She's my apprentice. She always wanted to learn from me, always looked up to me." I exhale sharply. "And she just… acted like I wasn't there."

    Like I was nothing.

    My voice comes out tighter than I expect.

    I hate that.

    I rub my face, trying to shove the emotion down before it goes anywhere.

    Then, suddenly, there's a soft clink next to my hoof.

    I look down.

    A cookie.

    I frown. "What."

    Fluttershy, still looking as gentle as ever, just nudges it slightly closer. "You looked upset."

    I stare at her. Then at the cookie. Then back at her.

    "…So?"

    She blinks innocently. "It helps."

    I glance back at the cookie.

    It does look good.

    And… well. I am a little stressed.

    Without really thinking about it, I grab it with my magic and take a bite.

    It's good.

    I take another bite, letting the rich, buttery flavor settle on my tongue. I guess it helps. A little. Not that I'm about to say that out loud.

    Fluttershy just watches, sipping her tea, looking completely at ease.

    I clear my throat. "So… yeah. Sweetie Belle."

    Fluttershy hums, prompting me to continue.

    I frown. "I mean, I get it. Everypony else was doing it. Ignoring me, I mean. But she was always excited to see me. Always begging for lessons. And then, suddenly? Nothing." I exhale sharply. "Like I was just some random unicorn she barely knew."

    Fluttershy's expression softens. "That must have really hurt."

    I scoff. "I mean, yeah. A little. Whatever."

    There's a pause.

    Then—clink.

    I glance down.

    Another cookie.

    I narrow my eyes.

    Fluttershy sips her tea, utterly unfazed.

    I stare at the cookie for a long moment before I huff and pick it up.

    I take a bite.

    It's still good.

    Fluttershy nods approvingly.

    I squint at her. "You're acting weird."

    She just smiles.

    At some point, I find myself helping Fluttershy with her animals.

    I don't remember agreeing to this.

    One second, we were talking. The next, I had a brush in my telekinetic grip, gently combing through the fur of some round little creature that Fluttershy insisted needed grooming.

    I have no idea what it is. Some kind of oversized hamster, maybe.

    I glance over at Fluttershy, who is tending to a group of rabbits. "How did this happen?"

    She blinks at me. "Oh, well… you were already here. And you seemed like you didn't mind."

    I frown. "…I do mind."

    She tilts her head. "Oh. Do you want another cookie?"

    She holds the offending sweet out.

    I squint.

    Fluttershy just smiles, completely serene.

    "Yes... thank you." I say, popping it into my mouth.

    I sigh and go back to brushing.

    Later, she asks me to help her bring in a bag of feed from the shed.

    I grumble but oblige, levitating it effortlessly.

    She thanks me, looking entirely too pleased.

    Before I can respond, she sets a small bowl of fresh fruit in front of me.

    I narrow my eyes.

    She just sips her tea.

    I pick up a slice of apple and eat it.

    It's good.

    Fluttershy nods approvingly.

    I get the strangest feeling that something is happening here, but I can't quite put my hoof on it.

    By the time Rainbow finally shows up, I'm sitting at the table, eating another cookie, feeling oddly relaxed.

    Rainbow blinks at the scene in front of her, then smirks. "Wow. She got you, huh?"

    I frown. "Got me how?"

    Rainbow just snickers, flopping onto the couch. "Nevermind."

    Fluttershy smiles and places another plate of snacks on the table.

    I stare at her.

    She sips her tea.

    I shake my head. Whatever. Not my problem.

    I grab another cookie.

    It's still good.

    I shift in my seat, clearing my throat. "Well, this has been… something, but I should probably get going."

    Fluttershy, who has been busy setting out another plate of fruit, glances up. "Oh?"

    I nod, standing. "Yeah. Big, important archmage things to do." I gesture vaguely. "You know. Mystical matters beyond mortal comprehension."

    Rainbow snorts from her spot on the couch. "Uh-huh. Sure."

    I shoot her a look. "What, you doubt my responsibilities?"

    She just grins. "I doubt you have anywhere better to be."

    I scowl. "I have plenty of places to be."

    "Like?"

    I open my mouth—then close it.

    Damn it.

    Fluttershy, silent this entire time, nudges a small plate forward. "You could stay a little longer," she says softly. "I just made these."

    I look down.

    Mini sandwiches.

    Neatly cut. Perfectly arranged.

    I stare at them.

    She made these? Like, just now?

    I glance back up at her, suspicious. "That's… suspiciously convenient timing."

    She blinks. "Is it?"

    "Yes."

    She tilts her head, giving me the softest, most innocent look imaginable. "But you haven't even tried them yet."

    I narrow my eyes.

    Then, before I can stop myself, I levitate one up and take a bite.

    …It's good.

    I hate how good it is.

    Fluttershy smiles just a little wider.

    I chew, glaring at her.

    She sips her tea.

    Rainbow watches this exchange with pure delight, kicking her hooves up like she's watching a show.

    I exhale sharply, sitting back down. "Fine. A little longer."

    Fluttershy just nods approvingly.

    Somewhere in the next half-hour, I realize something else is happening.

    Fluttershy is… closer.

    I don't know when it started, but she's slowly whittling away at my personal space.

    It's little things at first. A hoof brushing against mine when she reaches for the teapot. Sitting just a little closer than before.

    At first, I ignore it.

    She's just a soft-spoken pony—naturally quiet, unassuming. Probably just used to sitting near other creatures without thinking about it. No big deal.

    Then it escalates.

    I'm finishing off one of those stupidly good daisy and cucumber sandwiches when I feel it—her hoof, lightly brushing against my mane.

    I freeze.

    No.

    I glance at her out of the corner of my eye. She's still talking like nothing happened. Like she didn't just touch me.

    I slowly pull back, ears flattening.

    She doesn't push. She just hums softly, withdrawing her hoof as if I was never meant to notice. Like it wasn't even a big deal.

    I narrow my eyes.

    I know what that was.

    That was soft pony tactics.

    I tense, watching her carefully.

    Fluttershy, unfazed, continues chatting in that calm, soothing voice of hers, letting the moment pass like it never happened.

    "…and then Angel was just so fussy about his salad today. I even tried cutting the carrots into little flower shapes like he likes, but no, that wasn't good enough. He wanted them in hearts." She lets out a tiny sigh, smiling fondly. "I don't know where he even got that idea. I've never done hearts before."

    I relax—just barely—before catching myself.

    No. No, I am not going to be tricked into staying longer.

    I shoot up suddenly, nearly knocking over my tea. "Alright! This has been great—real fun, real productive—but I really gotta go."

    Fluttershy's ears flicker, and she tilts her head slightly. "Oh."

    I see the disappointment flicker across her face. The quiet understanding. Like she just spooked a wild animal, and now it's bolting.

    Which is exactly what I am doing.

    She doesn't argue. Doesn't protest.

    Instead—clink.

    Another plate.

    A golden-brown blueberry muffin, still warm, the scent of vanilla and cinnamon curling into the air.

    I hesitate.

    I narrow my eyes at the muffin, then at Fluttershy. "You planned this."

    She just tilts her head, all wide-eyed innocence. "Oh? I was just thinking you might like something sweet before you go."

    I scowl. "That's suspiciously convenient."

    She shrugs. "Well, you did like the sandwiches."

    I glare at the muffin. It smells really good.

    And the worst part? She's not even pushing. She's not begging me to stay, not guilt-tripping me, not arguing. She's just offering.

    It's like she always makes just enough food to make you feel bad for leaving hungry.

    It reminds me of my grandmother.

    The subtle way she always managed to keep me sitting at the table just a little longer. The soft, knowing smiles. The understanding that I was going to leave eventually, but oh, don't you want another bite before you go?

    And somehow, that makes it worse.

    I grit my teeth, forcibly looking away. "Nope. Not falling for it."

    Fluttershy just nods, completely serene. "That's okay."

    I glance back. She's just sitting there, calm, unbothered.

    Her eyes flick to the muffin once more, then back to me. "You can take it with you, if you want," she says softly. "If you're in a hurry."

    I raise a brow. "Oh, so now you want me to leave?"

    Fluttershy shrugs with that same mild smile. "You seemed very determined to go, and I wouldn't want you to miss out on it." She nudges the muffin a little closer. "I was thinking of baking more on Tuesday, too. Maybe some extra blueberry ones."

    I feel my scowl deepen. "You're doing this on purpose."

    She tilts her head, all innocence. "I like to have fresh treats ready, that's all."

    I stare at her for a long beat, and she just keeps that calm, unruffled expression. Finally, I sigh, snatching the muffin with my telekinesis and hovering it by my side. "Fine. I'll take it. But only because you made it already."

    Her smile widens—just a tiny bit. "That's alright."

    I grumble, turning toward the door. I make it two steps before halting and glancing over my shoulder. "…You said Tuesday?"

    Fluttershy nods. "Yes. I'll be baking."

    I hate how casually she says that, like it's just a simple statement and not a trap baited with delicious pastries. "Well, uh… good for you."

    She waits.

    I wait.

    Neither of us says anything.

    Rainbow, from her place on the couch, looks like she's about to explode with laughter again.

    I shake my head, huffing. "I… might swing by. Maybe."

    Fluttershy just nods, expression serene. "Alright. Have a good day, Kinetic."

    I open my mouth, close it, and finally stomp out the door, blueberry muffin in tow.

    The second I'm outside, I feel the crisp air hit my face, and let out a low groan. "Why," I mutter to no one in particular, "is everypony in this town a scheming puppet master?"

    The muffin smells amazing.

    I bite into it as I walk, cursing quietly at how good it tastes.

    Tuesday.

    I can't believe I'm actually considering it.

    I pop the last of the muffin into my mouth, scowling at my own weakness. Then I glance back once, just in time to see the door quietly shut behind me.

    "Dang it," I grumble under my breath.

    I make a beeline for Twilight's library, my scowl deepening with every step.

    This is her fault.

    She did something.

    Because there's no way Fluttershy came up with that plan on her own.

    I stomp up to the library door, throw it open, and march inside.

    Twilight is at her desk, buried in a book, but the moment she sees me, she smiles. "Oh, back already?"

    I slam the half-eaten muffin down onto the table in front of her.

    She blinks. "Uh."

    I point a hoof at it. "Explain that."

    Twilight tilts her head. "That's… a muffin?"

    "A weaponized muffin," I correct. "An ambush muffin. A trap designed to keep me in Fluttershy's house longer."

    Twilight's lips twitch like she's trying very hard not to laugh. "And did it work?"

    I scowl. "I took it with me, Twilight."

    She snorts. "And then you ate it."

    I glare. "That's not the point."

    She smirks. "I think that's exactly the point."

    I groan, dragging my hooves down my face. "What did you tell her?"

    Twilight hums, tilting her head as if considering whether she should actually tell me. "Well… I might have mentioned you would respond better if she treated you like one of her more skittish animals."

    I stare at her.

    "…Are you kidding me?"

    She shrugs, looking entirely too pleased with herself. "It makes sense, doesn't it?"

    I scoff. "Oh, sure. Because I definitely behave like a cornered raccoon."

    Twilight smirks. "More like a very grumpy stray cat."

    I throw my hooves up. "Unbelievable."

    Twilight is clearly enjoying this far too much, but then I say, "She tried to pet me."

    And immediately, her smirk vanishes.

    She straightens slightly. "Wait. What?"

    I nod, eyes narrowing. "Yeah. Just casually reached over and touched my mane like that was a normal thing to do."

    Twilight frowns, her tail flicking. "That… wasn't part of the plan."

    I blink. "Hold on. What plan?"

    She clears her throat and quickly turns away, flipping a page in her book like she's suddenly very interested in whatever dry, academic nonsense is on it. "Nothing, nothing. Just… I may have underestimated how quickly she'd get comfortable."

    I squint at her. "Sparkle."

    She keeps reading.

    I lean in slightly. "Twiiiliiight."

    She exhales sharply, setting her book down with a sigh. "Look, I thought she'd just ease you into things! Get you used to socializing in a way that wasn't overwhelming. I didn't think she'd—" she waves a hoof vaguely "—try to domesticate you."

    I groan, rubbing my face. "Great. So you admit this whole thing was your fault."

    Twilight crosses her forelegs. "Technically, I just gave her advice. I didn't tell her to start—" she hesitates, searching for the right words. "—stroking you."

    I make a strangled noise. "Never say it like that again."

    Twilight smirks again, but there's something slightly off about it this time. Like her usual smugness is covering for something else. She looks away, ears flicking. "Still. I didn't think she'd, uh… escalate like that."

    I scoff. "Yeah, well, neither did I." I pause, rubbing my temple. "I don't even know what she wants from me."

    Twilight shrugs. "Maybe she just… likes having you around?"

    I blink. "Why?"

    Twilight gives me a flat look. "Kinetic, just because you think you're a pain doesn't mean everypony does."

    I roll my eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Friendship lesson noted." I make a vague gesture. "Now fix whatever weird animal-training program you enrolled me in."

    Twilight chuckles. "I don't think it's that easy."

    I frown. "What do you mean?"

    She hums, flipping through her book again. "Well, if you stop going over, she'll probably just be sad."

    I shift uncomfortably. "That's not my problem."

    Twilight side-eyes me.

    I scowl. "It's not."

    She smirks again. "Then why do you look so guilty?"

    "I don't."

    "You do."

    I huff and look away. "This is ridiculous."

    Twilight, of course, doesn't let up. "I don't see what the problem is. You go, you get free food, and apparently, you're likable enough that Fluttershy enjoys your company."

    I groan. "I am not discussing this with you."

    She grins. "Too late."

    I open my mouth to fire back, but she casually says, "With Hearts and Hooves Day coming up, you might want to get used to ponies being more affectionate."

    My brain stalls.

    I blink. Slowly. Then look at her. "What."

    Twilight is still reading, still pretending to be completely casual, but her ears twitch slightly.

    I know that look.

    That's the look of somepony who wants something.

    Oh no.

    Nope.

    Not happening.

    I immediately start backing toward the door. "Well, this has been an enlightening disaster, but I just remembered I have actual work to do."

    Twilight finally looks up, eyes sharp with amusement. "Oh? And what's on the grand agenda of our mighty archmage today?"

    I scramble for an excuse. "Uh. Research."

    She smirks. "On what?"

    I grit my teeth. "Physics."

    Twilight hums. "Mm-hm. Any particular branch of physics?"

    I scowl. "Applied."

    She leans forward slightly. "And what's the focus?"

    I scramble for something that sounds complicated enough to make her drop it. "Uh… non-equilibrium thermodynamics."

    Twilight blinks. "…Huh."

    I cross my hooves, lifting my chin. "Yeah. Pretty important stuff."

    Her ears flick, and then she slowly smirks. "That's fascinating."

    I narrow my eyes. "It is."

    She hums, standing up and stepping closer. "So how does it work?"

    I freeze.

    Crap.

    I clear my throat. "Oh, you know. A lot of, uh, energy transfer… and, uh, entropy considerations."

    Twilight raises an eyebrow. "Go on."

    I shift uncomfortably. "Well, uh, non-equilibrium thermodynamics is all about… things… not being in equilibrium. Obviously."

    She snorts. "That's the name of it, yes."

    I scowl. "Look, it's complex, okay? You wouldn't get it."

    She smirks. "Try me."

    I hate her.

    I hate that she's good at this.

    I groan, rubbing my temples. "Twilight, I swear—"

    "Oh, I'm listening," she says sweetly.

    I glare at her. "Fine. It's about how systems that aren't in thermal equilibrium still have observable patterns of energy dispersion, and you can model it to predict things like heat flow, reaction rates, and—" I stop abruptly when I see the way her expression shifts.

    She looks… too interested.

    Not just 'this is an interesting academic topic' interested, but something else entirely.

    I narrow my eyes. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

    Twilight quickly schools her expression into something more neutral. "Like what?"

    I gesture vaguely. "Like that. Like you're thinking about something."

    She shrugs, a little too casual. "Oh, no reason."

    I squint. "No, see, I know that face, Sparkle. That's the face of somepony about to say something really weird."

    She taps a hoof against her chin, feigning innocence. "I just… think it's interesting, that's all."

    I cross my hooves. "You're a professional researcher, Twilight. You think everything is interesting."

    She hums, stepping a little closer. "True. But I especially think it's interesting when you explain things."

    I blink.

    Wait.

    No.

    Nope.

    I straighten slightly. "What is that supposed to mean?"

    She smiles—too sweetly. "You're very—" she pauses, as if choosing her words carefully, "—articulate."

    I narrow my eyes. "Uh-huh."

    She keeps looking at me like that. Like she's really enjoying this.

    I don't know if it's the way her ears flick when I talk, the way she tilts her head just slightly, or the fact that she's suddenly way too focused on my mouth when I speak—

    I immediately stop talking.

    She raises an eyebrow. "Why'd you stop?"

    I glare at her. "Because I just realized what's happening here, and I don't like it."

    Twilight grins. "What's happening?"

    I scowl. "Oh, you know exactly what's happening."

    She just tilts her head, all fake innocence. "But I was just listening to you talk about physics."

    I back up one step. "Nope. No. Absolutely not. I'm not getting pulled into whatever this is."

    Twilight lets out a soft hum. "I don't know what you mean."

    I glare at her. Hard. "Yes, you do."

    Twilight just smiles, slow and knowing. She's enjoying this way too much.

    I shift uncomfortably, suddenly hyper-aware of how she keeps dragging me back into the conversation.

    Every time I try to leave, she says just enough to pull me in again. And I keep falling for it.

    The realization hits me—this isn't just Fluttershy anymore.

    The ponies have gotten too used to handling me.

    I narrow my eyes. "Sparkle."

    She blinks, all false innocence. "Yes?"

    I straighten. "I'm leaving."

    She tilts her head, ears flicking playfully. "Are you?"

    I scowl. "Yes."

    She leans forward, just slightly, gaze far too entertained. "You sure?"

    I cut myself off immediately, pivoting toward the door.

    Nope. No. Nope.

    I am not getting played by two of them in the same day.

    I march out, slamming the door behind me.

    Twilight's laughter follows me all the way down the road.

    I storm off in a huff, muttering to myself, my cloak billowing dramatically behind me. At least the wind respects my authority.

    Damn ponies. Damn their tricks. Damn their stupid smug faces.

    I've adapted to their giant, overly expressive eyes by now. Mostly. I can look at them without that uncanny valley feeling, without getting weirded out by the sheer amount of emotion they pour into a single glance. But that's only because I know they do it naturally. It's not for me.

    It's when they look at me like that—like I'm one of them, like they expect something from me—that it makes my skin crawl.

    I hate that look.

    It lingers in my head longer than I want it to.

    I shake my head sharply, wrenching my thoughts back into something less irritating.

    I don't even find them attractive.

    That part's never changed. I can recognize when a pony is considered conventionally cute—because everything here is cute—but it doesn't do anything for me.

    They're not human women.

    That's what makes the whole Twilight thing even worse.

    I don't like her. Not like that.

    I just like messing with her.

    And she likes messing with me.

    It's… fun.

    I stop in my tracks, scowling.

    No. Nope.

    I shove that thought aside and bury it. I am not about to get existential over a smug unicorn.

    I need something to do.

    Something productive.

    I'm officially out of ponies to talk to who haven't pissed me off today, so I head to the market and buy a notebook. If I can't spend my day tormenting Twilight or dodging Fluttershy's schemes, I might as well get some real work done.

    Back at the H.A.R.D.I.S., I flip open the notebook and start copying down the runes from the golem I fought.

    I don't know anything about runes yet. But that's what this is for—documentation, figuring it out later.

    At least, that's what I tell myself.

    About twenty pages in, I stop, staring at the mess of symbols.

    I sigh.

    I'm not figuring this out on my own.

    Which means I'm going to have to do a walk of shame back to the library for a book on runes.

    I groan, dragging my hooves down my face.

    I drag myself back to the library, mentally preparing for the inevitable smugness I'm about to endure.

    Twilight does not disappoint.

    The second I walk in, she looks up from her book and grins. "Back so soon?"

    I scowl. "Don't start."

    She leans her chin on her hoof, looking unbearably amused. "Oh, but it's so interesting. I thought you had important physics research to do."

    I grumble under my breath and start scanning the shelves, looking for anything on runecraft. I don't ask her for help. I refuse. I'll find it myself.

    I spend about fifteen minuets looking.

    Then, having had her fun, Twilight's magic plucks a book from a shelf and floats it in front of me.

    Runes and Their Applications: A Mage's Guide.

    I blink. "What."

    She smirks. "This is what you're looking for, right?"

    I narrow my eyes. "…How did you know?"

    She shrugs, far too pleased with herself. "I've seen Sweetie Belle working on some runes around town. And I know you don't know runecraft. So I figured you'd need it eventually."

    I scowl. "Okay. First of all, stop being right all the time."

    She chuckles. "Can't help it."

    I reach for the book, but Twilight keeps it just out of reach, her smirk widening.

    I pause. Oh no.

    I narrow my eyes. "What's the catch?"

    Twilight hums innocently. "Catch? Whatever do you mean?"

    I glare. "You're holding my book hostage."

    She taps her chin in mock thought. "Well, I could just let you have it…"

    I cross my hooves. "Yes, you could."

    "…But," she continues, ignoring me, "I think you owe me a favor."

    I scoff. "It's a library, Twilight. You can't just—"

    "It's my library," she corrects, looking far too smug. "And let's not forget all the books you never returned."

    I blink. "What?"

    She grins. "Oh, don't play dumb. The library used to run on an honor system before I took over. And you, Archmage Kinetic Flux, checked out three books and never returned them."

    I frown, avoiding her eyes. "That doesn't sound like me."

    Twilight levitates a stack of old papers and pulls out a yellowed, dog-eared checkout slip. She flips it around dramatically and jabs a hoof at the name written on it.

    Kinetic Flux.

    My eye twitches.

    She reads aloud, her voice practically dripping with amusement. "Teaching Magic to Foals: A Practical Guide. Practical Spells for Beginners. The Art of Magical Focus."

    I cross my forelegs, scowling. "Okay, but in my defense—"

    "It's been two weeks," Twilight interrupts, looking unbearably smug.

    I roll my eyes. "That's not that long."

    "The checkout was only good for a week."

    I open my mouth to argue, then immediately close it. Damn it.

    Twilight smirks, clearly enjoying this way too much. "So, consider this a late fee." She waves the rune book in front of my face. "You help me with a few errands tomorrow, and this is yours."

    I frown. "What kind of errands?"

    "Oh, nothing too complicated," she says airily. "Just some things around town. Carrying things, picking up supplies, helping with some organization."

    I narrow my eyes. "That sounds suspiciously vague."

    Twilight blinks at me, all fake innocence. "Oh? But you owe me a favor, remember?"

    I grit my teeth. She's up to something. I know she is. But… damn it, I do need that book.

    I could just refuse and try to find another copy elsewhere, but that would take even longer, and I need to start decoding the golem runes now.

    I really hate how well she's playing this.

    I sigh sharply, dragging a hoof down my face. "Fine. Fine. But just for the record? You're the worst."

    Twilight beams. "Noted." She finally levitates the book into my grasp, and I yank it from the air, stuffing it into my saddlebags before she changes her mind.

    Twilight leans her chin on her hoof again, smiling way too smugly. "So, see you tomorrow morning?"

    I groan. "Unfortunately."

    She hums. "Try to get some rest. We have a big day ahead of us."

    I do not like the way she says that.

    I grumble under my breath and stomp toward the door. I got my runecraft book, but now I have to spend an entire day running Twilight's errands.

    I mutter curses all the way back to the H.A.R.D.I.S., already dreading tomorrow.

    I set the rune book down next to my notes, cracking my neck before diving into the mess of angular symbols I copied from the golem.

    Alright. Let's see what we're dealing with.

    The book is... well, it's a book. Not exactly a good book. It's vague, full of flowery language about the ancient mysteries of runecraft rather than actually explaining how the damn things work or what they directly translate to.

    So I have to infer. A lot.

    I take a deep breath and start translating, scribbling down each rune into something I actually understand.

    INITIAL CONDITIONS
    creature_detected = false
    distance_to_creature = unknown
    creature_airborne = false
    total_mass = starting_mass
    hold_data = [body_parts]
    body_parts = [head, arms, legs, torso]
    target_position = [0,0]
    golem_position = [0,0]
    left_leg_facing = true
    motion_state = idle
    terrain_map = scan_terrain

    DETECTION RUNE
    if detect_creature()
    → creature_detected = true
    → target_position = get_creature_position()
    → distance_to_creature = get_distance(golem_position, target_position)
    → creature_airborne = check_airborne(target_position)
    else
    → creature_detected = false
    → motion_state = idle

    TRACKING RUNE
    if creature_detected
    → track_target(target_position)
    → orient_left_leg(target_position)
    → motion_state = tracking

    ATTACK RUNE
    if creature_detected and distance_to_creature < attack_range
    → if creature_airborne
    → throw_arms(target_position)
    → else
    → melee_attack(target_position)
    → motion_state = attacking

    REGENERATION RUNE
    if missing_parts(body_parts)
    → nearest_earth = find_earth_source()
    → move_to_source(nearest_earth)
    → absorb_earth()
    → restore_parts(body_parts)
    → update_mass(total_mass)
    → motion_state = repairing

    STRUCTURAL INTEGRITY RUNE
    if unstable_structure()
    → hold_structure()

    God that took forever.

    I sit back, staring at the translated runes, running through the implications.

    It had a logic flow. Decision-making. Condition checks. It wasn't thinking, but it was following rules.

    I run a hoof down my face.

    Ponies don't even know what mass is, yet some ancient rune-carver figured out how to make an autonomous, self-repairing, combat-capable golem.

    What the hell?

    I sigh, rubbing my temples. And now I need another book.

    Because this? This is just a rough translation.

    I need something that actually explains why these runes work the way they do.

    I groan, already dreading it.

    Another walk of shame back to Twilight's library.

    I find myself once again making the reluctant trek back to Twilight's library. I don't even bother muttering to myself this time. At this point, the universe has made it abundantly clear that resistance is futile.

    Twilight is still at her desk, sipping tea and reading a book, looking far too smug for someone who should not technically know I was coming.

    She doesn't look up. "Three visits in one day?"

    I exhale through my nose. "Don't start."

    She hums in that way that means she's starting but graciously lets me pretend she's not.

    I scan the shelves, looking for something—anything—that explains why the runes work the way they do. The book just told me what they did, not how they did it.

    I search for a good ten minutes before Twilight finally decides to put me out of my misery.

    "You're not going to find what you're looking for."

    I glance over. "And why's that?"

    She shuts her book and rests her chin on her hoof. "Because it doesn't exist."

    I blink. "Excuse me?"

    Twilight shrugs. "Runecraft doesn't work the way you think it does. There's no underlying theory behind it. No scientific principle or grand unified system. It's just… trial and error."

    I stare at her. "…What."

    She smiles sympathetically. "Yeah. That's how ponies have always done it. Somepony figures out a symbol that does something, then they refine it, see what makes it work better, and pass it down. There's no why, just what works and what doesn't."

    I blink slowly. "…That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

    Twilight laughs. "Yeah, I figured you'd say that."

    I rub my temple. "Magic." Of course. Of course it just works without explanation.

    Twilight tilts her head. "You do realize how ironic this is, right?"

    I scowl. "What?"

    She grins. "You, the famous archmage, relying on logic and physics for all your so-called magic tricks, are now stuck studying a system that defies logic completely."

    I drag my hooves down my face. "I hate this town."

    Twilight beams. "No, you don't."

    I scowl harder, turning back to the shelves. "Fine. If I can't get an explanation, then I at least need a better book than that garbage you gave me."

    Twilight hums, getting up from her seat and trotting over to the shelves. After a moment, she levitates a thick tome down and plops it in front of me.

    "Runes and Refinements: The Art of Experimentation."

    I stare at the title. I do not like the implications.

    Twilight grins. "You wanted to know how runes really work? Here you go. This one actually has tests for you to try."

    I pick up the book warily. "And how much trial and error are we talking about here?"

    Twilight smirks. "Hope you don't mind exploding a few things."

    I groan loudly. "Great."

    She giggles and turns back to her desk. "Have fun!"

    I grab the book and stomp back home, already regretting my life choices.

    After hours of translating runes, my brain is done.

    Trial and error. No theory. Just vibes. It's like trying to debug a program when half the code is written in poetry.

    I shove my notes and book into some drawers and stumble toward bed, too exhausted to even be annoyed anymore.

    I will figure out how to make these runes without accidentally summoning something that will eat my face.

    But for now? Sleep.

    The next morning, I wake up to pounding on my door.

    I groan, rolling over. "Go away."

    The knocking gets louder.

    I fling a pillow at the door. "I said go away!"

    A very smug voice calls out. "Oh, Kinetiiiic~"

    I freeze.

    Oh no.

    I sit up sharply, already regretting everything.

    Twilight.

    Twilight is here.

    And that means something terrible is about to happen.

    I groan as I drag myself out of bed, running a hoof through my mane before shuffling toward the door. I fling it open, scowling. "What?"

    Twilight stands there, grinning way too wide, looking far too pleased with herself.

    I squint at her. "What are you so happy about?"

    She blinks innocently. "What? Can't a mare just enjoy the morning?"

    I fold my forelegs. "No."

    She snickers, then gestures grandly. "C'mon. Errands."

    I groan. "You actually came to collect me?"

    Twilight shrugs. "Of course! You made a deal."

    I grumble under my breath but step outside, shutting the door behind me. I start walking with her, still trying to shake off the grogginess.

    Then I glance at her properly.

    And immediately stop walking.

    I stare.

    Twilight has makeup on.

    I narrow my eyes. "Okay. What is this?"

    She blinks at me, all fake innocence. "What do you mean?"

    I gesture vaguely. "The… the face."

    She tilts her head. "It's my face?"

    I scowl. "No, it's different."

    Twilight smirks, batting her lashes dramatically. "Oh? You noticed?"

    I hate that I did.

    She never wears makeup. Never does anything that isn't purely practical. The fact that she's wearing it now means… something.

    I point at her suspiciously. "You're up to something."

    She gasps theatrically. "Kinetic, please. I would never."

    I cross my hooves. "Lies."

    She just grins. "C'mon. We've got a busy day ahead."

    I sigh and start walking again, still trying to figure out what exactly feels so off.

    Twilight is being… weird.

    Not bad weird. Just… different.

    Like she's expecting something.

    I shake my head. Whatever. Just get through the errands and go back to translating runes.

    Twilight leads the way, practically bouncing with barely-contained enthusiasm. I eye her warily. This is suspicious. This is very suspicious.

    We step into the market, and Twilight starts her so-called "errands."

    The first stop? A café.

    I immediately raise an eyebrow. "This doesn't look like an errand."

    Twilight hums, levitating a menu. "I need to eat, don't I?"

    I scowl. "You dragged me out of bed for your breakfast?"

    She just smirks. "You're here, so you might as well eat, too. I'll pay."

    I could protest. I should protest. But my stomach picks this exact moment to betray me with a low growl.

    Twilight grins wider. "See? Your body agrees."

    I roll my eyes. "Fine. But I'm getting the most expensive thing on the menu out of spite."

    She chuckles, levitating over two menus. "Go right ahead."

    I scan the options, frowning. "You're lucky I can't read half this flowery café nonsense. What's the difference between a Moondancer Latte and a Celestial Swirl Cappuccino?"

    Twilight smirks. "About three bits and some extra foam."

    I grunt. "Figures." I shove the menu away. "Just get me something caffeinated."

    She orders for us—some fancy tea for herself and whatever high-powered coffee she picked for me.

    The drinks arrive, and Twilight happily stirs her tea, eyes gleaming with amusement. I chug my coffee like it's an elixir of youth.

    "This is a pretty slow errand," I note.

    Twilight shrugs, smiling behind her cup. "No rush."

    I scowl. "That's exactly what somepony wasting my time would say."

    She just hums, taking a sip.

    After we finish, we finally move on to an actual errand.

    Or so I think.

    Turns out, Twilight needs to visit a flower stall.

    I squint. "What, is this for a potion or something?"

    She hums. "Nope. Just flowers."

    "…Right. And you're getting flowers why?"

    She grins. "Decoration, food, haven't decided yet."

    I stare. "You've never decorated anything in your life."

    She chuckles. "Maybe I'm trying something new."

    I roll my eyes as she browses through bouquets. I glance at a random arrangement and snort. "Wow. Overpriced plant carcasses. Truly the height of civilization."

    The florist gasps in horror. Twilight just laughs.

    She picks out a bouquet—roses, which I pointedly ignore—and hands over the bits.

    "You sure are putting a lot of effort into ambience today," I mutter as we leave.

    Twilight smiles smugly. "Oh, don't worry, you'll see the effort soon."

    I do not like the way she says that.

    Next stop? A bookstore.

    Finally. Something actually productive.

    Except, of course, it's not.

    Twilight doesn't even glance at the reference section. Instead, she drags me straight to the fiction aisle.

    I scowl. "Twilight. I don't have time to read storybooks."

    She hums. "You do today."

    I hate her.

    She starts flipping through books, clearly enjoying herself. I lean against a nearby shelf, grumbling. "This is the worst errand list I've ever seen."

    Twilight chuckles. "Maybe you just don't know how to enjoy yourself."

    I scoff. "Excuse me? I enjoy plenty of things."

    She smirks. "Name one."

    I open my mouth—but can't immediately think of anything.

    Twilight watches me struggle, grinning. "Exactly."

    I groan, dragging my hooves down my face. "Are we done yet?"

    She hums. "A few more stops."

    I hate this.

    The next hour is a blur of nonsense.

    A scenic walk through the park. A visit to a sweets shop where Twilight insists I try a hoof-made chocolate truffle.

    A stop at a little boutique where she doesn't buy anything, and just browses.

    As we step out of the boutique, I finally notice something odd.

    It's not just Twilight dragging me around like a wayward shopping bag—everypony is out.

    And not just out—paired up.

    Ponies walking side by side, sharing sweets, giving each other flowers, leaning against each other like they aren't even embarrassed about it.

    I slow my pace, squinting at a couple holding hooves at a café. Another pair across the street are sharing a milkshake like absolute nerds.

    I gesture vaguely at the display. "Okay, what's with all the mushy stuff? Did I miss a memo? Is there a 'be unbearably romantic' festival going on?"

    Twilight stifles a laugh. "Kinetic. It's Hearts and Hooves Day."

    I blink.

    Then scowl.

    "Oh."

    Twilight tilts her head. "You do know what that is, right?"

    I scoff. "Of course, I do. I just… didn't realize it was today."

    Twilight smirks. "And you somehow didn't notice? Even after all the flower stands, the sweets, the décor, the couples everywhere?"

    I cross my hooves. "Look, I just assumed ponies were always this disgustingly affectionate."

    Twilight snorts. "We do have boundaries, you know."

    I glance around again. A stallion is blushing as his marefriend nuzzles his cheek. Across the street, a pair of pegasi are sitting together on a cloud, tails intertwined.

    I make a face. "Gross."

    Twilight chuckles. "Aw, does our resident grump have no appreciation for romance?"

    I scowl. "I appreciate it just fine when it's happening somewhere private."

    Twilight grins, sidling up beside me. "Okay, then. What's your type?"

    I blink. "My what?"

    She shrugs, far too casual. "What kind of mare would actually win over our fearless archmage?"

    I almost tell her I don't do romance, but she's looking at me expectantly, and if I say that, she'll just dig deeper out of pure spite.

    So I think about it for a second.

    I don't care about looks—not in the way ponies do. They're not human. No flowing manes or big, sparkling eyes are going to make me like them more.

    I roll my eyes, mulling it over. "I guess… I have to like them."

    Twilight raises an eyebrow. "That's a really low bar, Kinetic."

    I smirk. "You'd think so, wouldn't you?"

    She giggles but stays quiet, waiting for me to elaborate.

    I exhale through my nose, glancing around at all the obnoxiously affectionate couples. "It's not just about being 'nice' or 'kind' or whatever ponies put on their little love checklists. There are plenty of ponies like that, but if I can't stand talking to them, what's the point?"

    Twilight hums, tilting her head slightly. "So you're saying you don't want them to be nice to you?"

    I scoff. "I don't need somepony to agree with me just because it's polite. Where's the fun in that?" I glance at her. "If I say something ridiculous, I want somepony who'll call me out on it. Maybe throw it back at me, make it interesting."

    Twilight's smirk twitches wider. "So you like feisty mares?"

    I roll my eyes. "I like ponies who can keep up." I flick my tail. "Somepony who isn't just nice, but… I dunno, sharp. Quick. Sweet in a way that still stings a little. Like honey with a kick."

    Twilight stares at me, ears flicking.

    I frown. "…What?"

    She clears her throat, looking off to the side. "Nothing. Just… for somepony who acts like they hate feelings, that was kind of poetic."

    I scowl. "Yeah, well. Don't get used to it."

    She giggles, and I swear her eyes are glowing with amusement.

    I shake my head, dismissing whatever weird energy is hanging in the air. "Alright, Sparkle. Your turn. What's your type?"

    Twilight hums, pretending to think about it, but there's something in the way she smirks that immediately puts me on edge.

    "Well…" she starts slowly, as if she hasn't already thought about this. "I guess I like somepony smart."

    I snort. "Obviously."

    She grins. "And a little snarky."

    I blink. "Huh."

    "A bit of a bad boy," she continues, eyes flicking toward me in a way I don't quite register.

    I scoff. "Bad boy? Really? You?"

    She smirks. "What? I like somepony who's challenging—somepony who doesn't just go along with what I say, but pushes back. Keeps me on my hooves."

    I squint. "That sounds like it could get annoying real fast."

    She shrugs, still smiling. "I like arguing like that."

    I roll my eyes. "Nerd."

    Twilight laughs. "Somepony who's a little insane, but in a productive way."

    I blink. "That's a concerning requirement."

    She waves a hoof. "Not, like, dangerous insane. Just… y'know, somepony who's too smart for their own good. Who gets caught up in their own ridiculous antics and doesn't always realize how crazy they sound until somepony points it out."

    I frown. "Your dream stallion sounds like a real piece of work."

    Twilight giggles, tilting her head. "Oh, he would be. A real headache."

    I smirk. "Yeah, sounds great. Some stubborn, insufferable stallion who never lets you have the last word and probably gets himself into trouble every five minutes. Just what every mare dreams of."

    She sighs dramatically. "I know, right?"

    I snort. "Real keeper, that one."

    Twilight grins. "He'd be interesting, at least."

    I scoff. "That's one way to put it."

    She hums, still smiling. "I didn't see the appeal at first, either."

    I arch a brow. "Oh?"

    She nods. "Yeah. At first, I'd probably just find him infuriating—which, to be fair, he is—but then… it gets addictive."

    I blink. "Addictive?"

    Twilight shrugs, looking entirely too entertained. "Something about the back and forth, the challenge. Figuring out what makes him tick—how to get under his skin. It's fun."

    I squint at her. "That doesn't seem healthy."

    Twilight grins, eyes glinting. "Maybe not. But the best things never are."

    Twilight's voice takes on a mischievous undercurrent. "I like the idea of outmaneuvering him," she says, eyes dancing. "Outthinking him. Trying to see if I can one-up him when he least expects it."

    I blink, suddenly unsure if we're still talking about some hypothetical stallion. "That sounds... borderline competitive."

    She laughs. "It is competitive. But it's fun."

    I shake my head. "Yeah, maybe for you. Feels like you'd be constantly at each other's throats."

    She hums, not denying it. "Keeps things interesting. If we're always on our hooves, always trying to outwit each other, at least we're engaged, right?"

    I grunt. "All that bantering—how's it supposed to lead to an actual relationship?"

    Twilight's confident smirk wavers. She hesitates, then sighs. "I... haven't quite figured that part out."

    I raise an eyebrow. "You have a plan for everything, Sparkle. You're telling me you don't have a master strategy to land your hypothetical, borderline-insane stallion?"

    She rolls her eyes, cheeks faintly pink. "Maybe I was hoping things would... work themselves out once we're both invested."

    I scoff. "Bold of you to assume he'd ever 'invest' in all that."

    Twilight grins, looking far too sure of herself. "Oh, I'm persuasive. He'd come around eventually."

    I open my mouth to retort, but before I can, she leads me around the last corner and—finally—we're standing outside the library.

    I exhale in relief. "Thank the stars. Does this mean I can go now?"

    Twilight chuckles. "Yes, I suppose you've fulfilled your end of the bargain."

    She reaches into her saddlebag and pulls out the bouquet of roses she bought earlier. Without ceremony, she offers them to me.

    I stare at them. "What... what am I supposed to do with these?"

    Twilight shrugs, a tiny smile on her lips. "They're yours. I bought them, but... consider them a parting gift."

    I frown. "But... you bought them. For... food or something. Why would you just give them away?"

    Twilight waves a hoof dismissively, her smile still in place but her ears flicking slightly. "Oh, I'll live. I'm sure you'll find some use for them."

    I stare at the roses like they contain some kind of hidden puzzle. "I mean… I guess I can just, uh… put them in a vase or something?"

    Twilight nods. "That's the spirit."

    She's still smiling, still composed, but—there it is. The tiniest twitch of her eye. Barely noticeable.

    I don't pay it any mind.

    Instead, I roll my eyes and turn on my hoof. "Right. Well. Good talk. I'm gonna go before you decide I owe you more favors."

    Twilight chuckles softly, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes this time. "See you soon, Kinetic."

    I walk away, roses floating awkwardly in my magic.

    The moment I round the corner, I let out a deep sigh and shake my head. "Ponies are weird."

    I glance at the roses. What the hell am I actually supposed to do with these?

    I could throw them away, but that feels… rude. Twilight didn't have to give them to me.

    I groan. I'll figure it out later.

    The H.A.R.D.I.S. is exactly how I left it—vast, empty, and uncaring about my personal dilemmas.

    I step inside, tossing the bouquet onto a nearby table before flopping into a chair.

    What a weird day.

    At least it's over.

    At least I can finally get back to important things—like runes, and golems, and not dealing with whatever Twilight was on about today.

    I close my eyes, exhaling deeply.

    Tomorrow, I will make progress.

    And whatever that was?

    I'm not thinking about it.
     
  • New
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    • Golem New
  • Threadmarks
    • I wake up early, determined to make actual progress on the golem runes. No distractions. No Twilight trickery. Just work.

    Technically, I don't need this thing to fight. I need it to do manual labor. Heavy lifting, digging, and carrying things so I don't have to. Simple.

    The runes are still a mess of trial and error, but I can adjust them as needed—weakening and reshaping the intergranular bonds of the material with my magic. It's tedious, but with the right touch, I can carve, refill, and refine the runes with minimal effort.

    All I need now is the raw material.

    I head just outside the Everfree, picking out a large boulder embedded in the dirt. Solid, weighty, but not so unwieldy that I can't shape it. I focus, applying pressure with my magic, compressing the stone, pushing the material inward, removing imperfections.

    Once it's condensed enough to carve cleanly, I start forming the shape.

    I keep it simple—basic proportions, sturdy design, flexible movement. Ball joints at the limbs to maximize range of motion.

    At least, that's the plan.

    But somewhere along the way, I get distracted, and the process takes a turn.

    I step back, wiping sweat from my brow, and—

    …Oh.

    Oh no.

    What… what have I done?

    Standing before me, fresh from the stone, is…

    A woman.

    Not a pony. Not some boxy, utilitarian golem.

    A tall, curved, elegant human woman—made of smoothed, condensed dirt and stone.

    My eye twitches.

    How the hell did this happen?

    She has ball-jointed limbs, perfectly segmented for fluid motion. A slim waist, perfectly proportioned to emphasize her curves. A pouty, slightly unimpressed face that somehow conveys emotion despite being rock.

    The hair—a sleek, straight bob that curves inward at the ends, forming a soft widow's peak. It falls just above her shoulders, framing her face with frustrating precision.

    And the outfit.

    Oh, stars above, why does she have a leotard?

    It's part of the stone, carved into her form, giving the illusion of clothing without actually being separate from her body.

    I stare.

    She stares back.

    I groan loudly, dragging my hooves down my face.

    I did not mean to do this.

    How the hell did I go from "generic labor construct" to "mystical goth goddess?"

    I scowl at the stone-woman, pointing an accusatory hoof at her. "You were supposed to be a worker, not a fashion statement."

    She does not respond.

    Because she is a pile of animated stone.

    I exhale sharply. It doesn't matter. The shape isn't important. She just needs to function.

    I grumble, moving closer and inspecting my work. The joints are well-placed. The structure is solid.

    Even if she looks like some forbidden earth goddess, at least she should be useful.

    Still.

    I really need to make sure no one ever sees this.

    I decide to place the runes on her back—out of sight, where they won't interfere with the aesthetics of the structure. Not that I care about aesthetics. This is purely for efficiency.

    I carve the runes carefully, using my magic to weaken and reshape the stone as I work. The other golem's rune structure serves as a useful framework, though I add some runes from Runes and Their Applications: A Mage's Guide and adjust it to simplify the commands. I translated the whole thing to my notebook before carving.

    INITIAL CONDITIONS
    creator_detected = false
    following_creator = false
    stopped = false
    holding_target = false
    target_detected = false
    destination_set = false

    creator_position = [0,0]
    golem_position = [0,0]
    target_position = [0,0]
    destination_position = [0,0]

    DETECTION RUNE
    if detect(creator)
    → creator_detected = true
    → creator_position = get_position(creator)

    if detect(target)
    → target_detected = true
    → target_position = get_position(target)

    FOLLOW COMMAND RUNE
    if command_heard("follow")
    → following_creator = true
    → stopped = false

    if following_creator and not stopped
    → move_to(creator_position)

    STOP COMMAND RUNE
    if command_heard("stop")
    → following_creator = false
    → stopped = true

    PICK-UP RUNE
    if command_heard("pick up") and target_detected and not holding_target
    → move_to(target_position)
    → hold(target)
    → holding_target = true

    HOLD & FOLLOW / TRANSPORT RUNE
    if holding_target and following_creator
    → move_to(creator_position)

    if command_heard("bring to") and target_detected
    → destination_position = get_destination()
    → destination_set = true

    if holding_target and destination_set
    → move_to(destination_position)

    SET DOWN RUNE
    if holding_target and command_heard("set down")
    → release(target)
    → holding_target = false
    → destination_set = false

    I step back, shaking out my shoulders. The runes should work—basic follow and carry commands. Theoretically, all she has to do is respond to my commands and act accordingly.

    I nod to myself, satisfied, and step around to inspect the golem properly.

    …And immediately regret it.

    Even knowing full well what I accidentally sculpted, it's still distracting.

    Her face is carved with deliberate sharpness—a soft but precise jawline, and a faintly downturned mouth that gives her an eternally unimpressed expression. The angles of her eyes are narrow, almost brooding, and her brows rest in a natural arch that adds to the effect.

    And then there's the hair.

    Even though it's stone, it has the illusion of softness—a sleek, straight bob, the ends curving inward just enough to frame her face. The widow's peak above her brow subtly emphasizes the smooth lines of her forehead, while the bangs, parted just off-center, make the overall effect impossibly polished.

    It's ridiculous.

    I did not mean to make her this sexy.

    I rub my temples. It's fine. It doesn't matter. She's just a machine. Just a golem. Just a—

    She moves.

    At first, it's subtle—a shift, a weight adjustment as the runes activate. Then, without warning, she rises off the ground.

    Not in a controlled, walking movement.

    No.

    She drifts.

    I blink.

    She floats sideways. Then forward. Then up.

    I scowl.

    "…You were supposed to walk."

    She continues to hover, legs completely motionless.

    I sigh, rubbing my temples. Great. Apparently, in my rush to refine the movement logic, I left out an actual walking function. Instead of using her limbs, she's just following the movement path in the simplest way possible—which happens to be floating in whatever direction she's supposed to go.

    I didn't even add a fly rune.

    I stare as she gently drifts in a slow arc around me, as if caught in some ethereal goth ballerina performance.

    I drag a hoof down my face. "This is so much worse."

    Now not only do I have a tall, suspiciously beautiful stone woman as my golem, but she glides like some haunting spirit instead of walking like a normal construct.

    I groan loudly. I need to fix this before anyone sees her.

    I groan, staring at my floating dirt woman like she personally offended me.

    "Okay. Why are you floating?"

    She doesn't answer—because, obviously, she can't. She just continues to hover slightly above the ground, following the movement logic without any awareness of how ridiculous she looks.

    I rub my temples. "The other golem walked. Why did you decide that floating was the optimal path?"

    I replay what I remember of the golem I fought outside the Everfree. It had moved like a real creature—limbs engaging, weight shifting. It hadn't been elegant, but it had followed proper kinematics.

    So why was this one completely bypassing the walking function?

    I frown, thinking it through.

    Runes are all trial and error, Twilight had said. No underlying system, just what works.

    Which meant…

    I glance at my notebook.

    I programmed a result, but I didn't consider the process.

    The other golem was built to walk. Whoever carved its runes expected it to move like a living thing. It had that intent baked into its design.

    Me? I just wanted this one to move, and magic—being the frustratingly literal force it is—took the shortest path to make that happen.

    I sigh. "Figures."

    Fine. Fine.

    I grab my notebook, flipping to the movement logic, and start adding the missing functionality from something that seemed like gravity in the book.

    MOVEMENT CORRECTION RUNE
    if following_creator or moving_to_target or moving_to_destination
    → engage_leg_joints()
    → balance_weight_distribution()
    → step_toward(target_position or creator_position or destination_position)

    if off_ground and not intentional_float
    → apply_gravity()

    I finish the adjustments, then carefully carve the new runes into the golem's back.

    Once the last line is etched, I step back and nod. "Alright. Try again."

    She twitches, then drops unceremoniously to the ground, landing with a heavy thud.

    I exhale in relief. "Good."

    Then she moves.

    Her legs shift, the ball joints clicking into place, and she takes a step forward. It's smooth, precise, almost unsettlingly natural.

    I watch as she follows the logic this time, each step deliberate, posture uncannily human despite being nothing more than compressed dirt.

    "…Much better."

    And yet, somehow, still too much.

    She walks toward me, her stone-carved features set in that same natural pout, her sleek bob resting perfectly in place.

    I step back, feeling deeply uncomfortable. "Yeah, you're way too refined for a stone puppet."

    She stops when I say, "Stop."

    I exhale slowly.

    At least that works.

    I glance at my notes. The process was simple—follow, pick up, bring, set down. Nothing complicated. And yet, because of intent, the design had been… enhanced.

    I shake my head.

    If Twilight ever finds out I accidentally made a beautiful dirt woman instead of a generic labor golem, I will never hear the end of it.

    I watch as my newly walking golem picks up rocks and moves them as instructed. At first, everything works smoothly—she follows commands, moves efficiently, and actually looks like a functional construct.

    Then I have her try to pick up a boulder that is very clearly too big.

    There's a sharp crack, and her right arm snaps clean off at the elbow, the severed limb crumbling into dust upon impact with the ground.

    I stare.

    Then sigh.

    "Hmmm."

    I flip open my notebook, already working out a solution. If the other golem I fought could regenerate, there was no reason mine couldn't.

    I start carving in the regeneration logic, adding the missing INITIAL CONDITIONS so the construct actually knows what state it should be in.

    INITIAL CONDITIONS
    creator_detected = false
    following_creator = false
    stopped = false
    holding_target = false
    target_detected = false
    destination_set = false

    creator_position = [0,0]
    golem_position = [0,0]
    target_position = [0,0]
    destination_position = [0,0]

    body_parts = struct('head', true, 'arms', true, 'legs', true, 'torso', true)
    total_mass = initial_mass

    REGENERATION RUNE
    if any_missing(body_parts)
    → nearest_earth = find_earth_source()
    → move_to_source(nearest_earth)
    → absorb_earth()
    → restore_missing_parts(body_parts)
    → update_mass(total_mass)
    → motion_state = "repairing"

    I step back. "Alright, let's see if this works."

    Nothing happens.

    I frown.

    She does not move. Does not repair. Just stands there like some aesthetically pleasing pile of broken dirt.

    It takes me a second to realize the problem.

    "Oh, for—"

    Because I hadn't set initial_mass before her arm broke, the current mass is what the golem recognizes as "normal."

    Which means her missing arm is part of her default state.

    I groan.

    I hate magic.

    Fine. Fine. I'll do it manually.

    I cross out the runes to 'deactivate' them. Then I pull nearby dirt toward the stump, reshaping it carefully, condensing the material into a proper arm. After a few minutes of adjusting, the limb is back to its original state. I uncross the runes.

    I step back. "There. Now, let's see if the rune actually works."

    Unfortunately, the only way to test it… is to break her arm again.

    I really don't want to, but I need to know if the rune activates on its own.

    I sigh. "Alright, big girl. Try again."

    She moves forward, reaching for the same oversized boulder.

    Another sharp crack.

    The arm snaps again.

    This time, however, there's a reaction.

    The runes glow faintly. The golem twitches, scanning for an earth source, then slowly moves toward a patch of dirt.

    I watch carefully as she kneels, pressing her broken stump to the ground. The surrounding earth shifts, particles pulling toward her, reforming the arm in real time.

    A few seconds later, she stands again—fully restored.

    I let out a slow breath.

    "…Alright. That's actually kind of cool."

    Even if the process feels a little cursed.

    At least now I don't have to manually fix her every time she overestimates herself.

    I flip open the rune book, scanning for anything that might be useful. As expected, the descriptions are wildly inconsistent—half of them sound like someone just guessed what they did based on vibes alone.

    Some stand out immediately:

    "The rune of the fleet-footed will grant swiftness in times of need. A traveler must trust the wind beneath them."

    Translation: Probably enhances speed or agility? Maybe makes things lighter? No actual explanation of mechanics. Useless.

    "To see beyond what is seen, one must carve the eye of knowing. But beware—some things should remain hidden."

    Translation: Vision enhancement? Maybe some kind of detection ability? Also, what's with the ominous warning?

    "A mind unchained walks paths unknown. To grant will where none exists is to step beyond mere craft and into creation."

    I pause.

    That one sounds… a little too interesting.

    I scan for an example.

    Nothing.

    I squint at the passage, rereading it.

    A mind unchained? Granting will?

    I frown. That sounds like a sentience rune.

    Or something dangerously close to one.

    I don't know what it actually does, and I'm not about to carve some vague, untested concept into my very functional dirt golem just to see what happens.

    I underline the passage in my notes, marking it for later.

    For now, I focus on the practical.

    A few runes seem like they could be useful:

    • Weight distribution rune ("The bearer of this mark will not falter, no matter the burden upon them.") → Possibly improves balance? Could help her carry heavier loads.
    • Enhanced dexterity rune ("The artisan's touch is made steady, the blade finds its mark, and the hands move as if guided by unseen grace.") → Probably improves fine motor control? Might make her less awkward with handling objects.
    • Stability rune ("That which stands firm shall not be moved by wind nor quake.") → Seems like it would help with footing. Could make her sturdier when carrying things.
    After marking down the ones that seem relevant, I close the book with a sigh.

    Looking up at my golem—tall, silent, and still too pretty for a pile of dirt—I decide that calling her "the golem" forever is going to get annoying.

    I glance at the book, then at her.

    "Alright, Rachel. Let's go home."

    She doesn't react, obviously, but when I say, "Follow," she moves into step behind me, walking with smooth, deliberate motions.

    At least one thing went right today.

    I make my way back to the H.A.R.D.I.S. as discreetly as possible, Rachel trailing silently behind me.

    I don't need anypony seeing this. Especially not Twilight.

    The last thing I need is her smug face analyzing why my labor golem just happens to be a statuesque human woman.

    I'm almost in the clear. The door is just ahead. I can already imagine the sweet, sweet relief of locking myself inside and pretending none of this ever happened—

    "Whoa! What's that?!"

    I freeze.

    Oh no.

    I turn slowly, already feeling my dignity crumbling.

    Sweetie Belle is standing a few feet away, wide-eyed and brimming with dangerous levels of curiosity.

    I glance at Rachel, then back at Sweetie, forcing myself to act cool.

    "Oh, uh. This?" I gesture vaguely at the entirely too human golem standing behind me. "This is just a… project."

    Sweetie Belle's eyes light up. "You made a golem?!"

    I clear my throat. "Well. Sort of."

    She gasps dramatically. "You built one?! From scratch?!"

    I quickly shake my head. "No, no, I found a golem in the Everfree and… appropriated its runes for my own design."

    Sweetie squints at me, then at Rachel. "That's so cool! But… why does it look like that?"

    I stiffen.

    Here it comes.

    Sweetie tilts her head, clearly trying to make sense of Rachel's shape. "She's kinda tall… and she has a really small waist… and those—" she gestures vaguely at Rachel's chest "—are kinda huge. Wouldn't that just make her all wobbly?"

    I open my mouth. Then close it.

    Then open it again.

    I can feel my brain overheating.

    Ponies don't have the same beauty standards as humans. They don't register human proportions as attractive.

    Which means, to Sweetie Belle, Rachel's design isn't sexy—it's just weird.

    I scramble for an explanation. Think, Kinetic.

    I clear my throat. "That's actually a… feature."

    Sweetie blinks. "Huh?"

    I nod quickly, latching onto the lie. "Yeah, see, the, uh… proportions serve a functional purpose." I gesture vaguely at Rachel's torso. "The, uh, chest area acts as a ballast for movement. It stabilizes her center of mass, allowing for smoother motion."

    Sweetie Belle's face scrunches up as she processes that. "…Really?"

    I nod, completely serious. "Absolutely. Very important. Engineering, you know."

    She stares at Rachel, then at me.

    Then shrugs. "Huh. I guess that makes sense!"

    I internally sigh in relief.

    Sweetie then grins. "Oh! Can she do anything yet?"

    I glance at Rachel. "She follows commands. Picks things up. Puts them down."

    Sweetie hums, eyeing Rachel like she's mentally dissecting my work. "She's really smooth when she moves. Was that hard to do?"

    I scoff, regaining some of my composure. "Please. You're talking to me, Sweetie. Of course it was difficult, but I figured it out."

    She giggles. "I bet Twilight's gonna be so impressed!"

    I stiffen immediately. "Twilight doesn't need to know."

    Sweetie Belle blinks. "Huh?"

    I clear my throat. "I mean, uh. Not yet. It's still a prototype."

    Sweetie nods like this is perfectly reasonable. "Oh, okay! Well, can I see her in action sometime?"

    I hesitate.

    Then sigh. "Yeah, yeah. Just—not today. I really have to go. Bye."

    Sweetie frowns a bit as I rush off. "Okay!" still staring as I leave.

    I exhale, turning to Rachel as I trot. "Alright, let's go before somepony else sees you."

    She, of course, says nothing. Just silently follows me inside.

    As soon as the door shuts behind us, I lean against it and groan.

    That was too close.

    I glance at Rachel, frowning.

    …Maybe I should do something about her proportions.

    Then again, that sounds like a lot of work.

    I sigh.

    Whatever.

    I frown as Rachel suddenly stops moving.

    One moment, she's standing there, perfectly functional. The next, she's just… off. No reaction. No motion. Completely inert.

    I sigh, rubbing my temple. "Oh, great. Now what?"

    I move closer, inspecting the runes. Nothing seems broken. No cracks in the stone. No obvious malfunctions.

    Then it clicks.

    She ran out of magic.

    I provided the initial energy for activation, but I hadn't built any kind of sustained power source. Unlike unicorns, constructs don't have an inherent pool of magic—they rely on something to keep them running.

    But the golem I fought near the Everfree? It had been running for who knows how long.

    So how was it still active?

    I glance at the large slab of stone I'd salvaged from its remains, currently sitting in my workshop.

    There's something in there. Something keeping the magic flowing.

    I narrow my eyes. "Alright. Let's see what you're hiding."

    I shear off the runes, turning it into more of a sheet of stone. I carefully begin cutting into the rest of the stone, using my telekinesis to weaken the intergranular bonds. Bit by bit, I break the rock apart, watching closely for anything unusual.

    It takes time. I work methodically, slicing through layers of compressed earth.

    Then—

    A glint of red.

    I pause, shifting my grip, cutting away more material. Slowly, a shape emerges from the stone.

    A ruby.

    Deep crimson. Diamond-shaped. Embedded directly in the heart of the golem's remains.

    I carefully pull it free with my magic—

    And immediately feel a pull.

    I tense as the gem draws in my magic, leeching energy from my telekinesis. Not enough to drain me completely, but enough to notice.

    I frown. "So this is the power source."

    It's a conduit—something that stores magic and gradually releases it back into the runes, keeping the construct running indefinitely.

    I roll the ruby in my telekinetic grip, watching the way it absorbs and holds my energy. It's a bit like a rechargeable battery—it doesn't generate magic. It just holds it, acting as a stabilizer.

    Which means…

    I glance at Rachel's unmoving form.

    I can fix this.

    I scan her head, considering the best placement. If this thing is acting like a core, then it needs to be positioned somewhere central, where it can distribute magic evenly, but also move to keep from harm's way.

    I nod to myself.

    Right in the forehead.

    I carefully carve out a small, diamond-shaped slot, ensuring the fit is perfect.

    Then, with careful precision, I place the ruby inside.

    For a moment, nothing happens.

    Then—

    The runes flicker. Glow.

    Rachel's body twitches, and slowly, she reactivates.

    I step back, watching as she straightens, her limbs shifting into place. The glow of the runes stabilizes, her magic now sustained by the ruby rather than my own energy.

    I exhale, crossing my forelegs. "Well. That worked."

    Rachel stands silently, back to full functionality.

    I smirk, nodding at the now-stabilized construct.

    "Welcome back, rock lady."

    I lead Rachel up the spiraling halls of the H.A.R.D.I.S., stepping carefully as her heavy stone footsteps follow behind me. She's running fine now, the ruby acting as a stable power source, but I don't want her just standing around in my workshop all the time.

    I glance over my shoulder. "Alright, you're getting a room."

    Obviously, she doesn't respond. She just follows, her smooth stone features set in that eternal pout.

    Eventually, I push open the door to one of the spare bedrooms on the second floor. It's barely furnished—just a bed, a small writing desk, and an old bookshelf covered in dust.

    I guide her to the bed, using my magic to gently move her into position.

    She does not cooperate.

    The second I position her onto the mattress—her back against the pillows, limbs relaxed—she just stands right back up.

    I scowl. "Oh, come on."

    I push her down again.

    She stands back up.

    I groan, dragging my hooves down my face.

    Right. Fine. If she's just going to keep doing that, I need to add a proper off switch.

    I pull out my notebook and quickly jot down a simple function:

    ON/OFF RUNE
    if command_heard("off")
    → disable_movement()
    → disable_response()

    if command_heard("on")
    → enable_movement()
    → enable_response()

    I carve the runes into her back, where I've already placed the others, making sure they integrate properly into the existing framework.

    Once finished, I step back and test it.

    "Off."

    Rachel immediately stops moving, going completely still.

    I wave a hoof in front of her face. Nothing.

    I poke her arm. No response.

    I sigh in relief.

    Finally.

    I levitate her onto the bed again, and this time, she stays there.

    I smirk. "Much better."

    Now she's exactly where I left her, completely inert, waiting for reactivation.

    I shake my head, dusting off my hooves.

    "Sheesh. You're more work than you should be."

    I glance at her one last time before stepping out of the room, shutting the door behind me.

    Now I can finally get some sleep.

    I wake up to the sound of knocking.

    Too early for this.

    I groan, rolling over in bed. Maybe if I ignore it, they'll go away.

    More knocking. Louder this time.

    I sigh. Fine.

    I climb out of bed, rubbing my eyes as I make my way toward the door. My first thought? It's Twilight.

    But when I open it, I'm met with a much smaller, much angrier unicorn.

    Sweetie Belle stands at my doorstep, hooves planted firmly, eyes narrowed in righteous frustration.

    I blink. "Oh. It's you."

    She scowls. "Yeah, it's me."

    I squint. "Why do you look like you're about to chew me out?"

    "Because I am!" she huffs. "You brushed me off yesterday! We haven't had any lessons in days!"

    I sigh. "Sweetie, it's been—"

    "Days!" she cuts in.

    I pause. "Oh."

    Okay, maybe I did lose track of time.

    She frowns. "I told Rarity, and she said if you weren't gonna teach me, I should just go bug you until you do."

    I scowl. "That does sound like something she'd say."

    Sweetie Belle huffs. "So? Are you gonna actually teach me today?"

    I really don't feel like doing anything right now. I still have runes to refine, Rachel to improve, and coffee to drink.

    I glance at Sweetie, then at the interior of my house.

    I sigh. "Fine. You can come in and look at my golem."

    Her eyes light up. "Really?!"

    I shrug. "Yeah, yeah. Just don't touch anything weird."

    She trots inside excitedly, only for her enthusiasm to pause the second she really looks around.

    She turns in a slow circle, eyes wide.

    "…Whoa."

    I smirk. Ah. There it is.

    She finally realizes.

    "It's bigger on the inside," she breathes, staring at the seemingly endless hallways stretching beyond the entrance.

    I chuckle. "Yup."

    She whirls around to face me. "How?!"

    I shrug. "No clue. It's old magic. Got left behind by the last town mage."

    She looks back at the interior, amazed. "Why didn't you tell me?"

    I snort. "Because you've never been inside before."

    She blinks. "You couldn't have just told me while you were teaching?"

    I raise an eyebrow. "Nope."

    She looks offended, like I've personally robbed her of an experience she should have had.

    I roll my eyes. "Anyway, you wanted to see the golem, right?"

    She nods quickly.

    I turn to the upper floor and call out:

    "Follow."

    There's a pause.

    Then—

    CRACK—

    SLAM!

    The doors to Rachel's room are ripped off their hinges.

    Sweetie Belle screams.

    I flinch. "Oh, COME ON—"

    Rachel bursts out of the room, stepping over the broken doors as she moves to obey the command.

    Sweetie Belle scrambles backward, eyes huge. "What the heck?!"

    I groan, rubbing my temple. "You weren't supposed to break the doors, Rachel."

    Rachel, of course, does not answer. She just moves to my side, waiting for further instruction.

    Sweetie Belle slowly peeks out from behind the couch, staring up at Rachel's perfectly sculpted features.

    "…She's so cool."

    I sigh, surveying the damage. "She's destructive."

    Sweetie Belle grins. "Yeah, but in the best way."

    I groan. I really don't have the energy for this today.

    I guide Sweetie Belle to my workshop, where my notes and rune sketches are scattered across the desk. She follows eagerly, still buzzing from Rachel's dramatic entrance.

    "Alright," I say, flipping open my notebook, "you wanted a lesson, so pay attention."

    Sweetie's eyes light up, and she quickly nods, her hooves on the desk as she leans in.

    I gesture to the pages filled with translated runes. "These are the symbols I used to get Rachel moving. Runes function on conceptual magic—each one represents an idea more than a specific function." I tap a few of them. "Like this one—it's not just 'move forward.' It's more like… 'advance toward a designated point in space.'"

    Sweetie Belle hums, eyes scanning the messy, scrawled translations. "That's so cool. So instead of telling it exactly what to do, you give it a concept, and it figures out the rest?"

    I smirk. "Exactly."

    She beams. "That's way more interesting than the basic stuff I learned! I only know simple ones—like the 'Fly' and 'Direction' runes."

    I nod. Those are common beginner runes—basic enchantments for levitation and movement assistance. Functional, but nothing fancy.

    I continue, pretending I know everything about the subject (even though I literally just started learning it myself). "So, the power source is embedded in her forehead—that ruby acts as a magic conduit. The runes around her back control movement, response, and repair. Basically, she's fully autonomous, as long as she has magic to draw from."

    Sweetie listens with rapt attention, nodding along like I'm revealing the secrets of the universe.

    "What are those little mini hooves?" she asks, tilting her head.

    "They're hands, the little branched things are called fingers."

    But then her gaze drifts back to Rachel, and her expression scrunches up.

    "…Okay, but why does she have a leotard?"

    I freeze.

    Oh. Right. That.

    I glance at Rachel, at the distinctly sculpted lines of her stone form—the sleek bob, the aesthetic curves, the sharp, brooding facial structure.

    There's no point in hiding it now. The other ponies already know I wasn't born here.

    I shrug. "Because I was human. That's just what I like."

    Sweetie Belle blinks.

    Then stares.

    Then slowly, slowly, tilts her head.

    "…What the hay is a human?"

    I sigh, already regretting this. "This," I gesture vaguely to Rachel, "is a female one."

    Sweetie Belle's jaw drops.

    She points a hoof at Rachel, then at me, then back at Rachel. "You used to look like that?!"

    "Well, not exactly like that," I mutter. "But, yeah. Same general structure."

    Sweetie throws her hooves in the air. "Every time I talk to you, I get new crazy lore!"

    I smirk. "You're welcome."

    She doesn't even acknowledge it, too busy pacing in frantic little circles. "So you're saying you weren't a pony. You used to be a whole other thing. And nopony told me?!"

    I shrug. "I just assumed you knew."

    She gapes at me. "Why would I know that?! That's not normal information!"

    I roll my eyes. "It's not a secret, Sweetie."

    She's still stuck in existential crisis mode, so I figure I'll let her process it for a second.

    Then—

    Out of nowhere—

    She stops, turns to me, and narrows her eyes.

    "…Is that why you don't see Twilight's attempts at romance?"

    I blink. "What?"

    She tilts her head. "Because you're not really a pony? Is that why you don't get it?"

    I frown. "Twilight doesn't like me."

    Sweetie Belle snorts. "Oh, come on."

    I scowl. "What do you mean come on?"

    She gives me an unimpressed look. "She likes you likes you."

    I shake my head. "No, she doesn't."

    Sweetie smirks. "Then why did you go on a date yesterday?"

    I blink. "I what?"

    Sweetie Belle giggles. "You went on a date! Twilight told Rarity all about it at dinner last night! She couldn't stop talking about it!"

    I just stare at her.

    "No," I say, slow and careful, as if explaining to a particularly dumb rock. "I ran errands with her."

    Sweetie shrugs. "That's what you thought you were doing."

    I feel the blood drain from my face.

    "Oh, dear god."

    Sweetie Belle grins, way too pleased with my suffering. "Yup! Twilight's already making more plans, too. Even though she's kinda frustrated."

    I groan, dragging my hooves down my face. "Great."

    Sweetie shrugs. "She's stubborn. She's not giving up just because you're slow."

    I glare at her. "I'm not slow, I just didn't know it was happening."

    She giggles. "Uh-huh. Sure."

    I sigh, shaking my head. "Whatever. Twilight's Twilight. She overthinks everything. It doesn't mean anything."

    Sweetie hums. "Maybe. But Rarity said she still likes you, too."

    I stiffen. "Excuse me?"

    Sweetie nods. "Yeah. She said she's just being generous and letting Twilight have first dibs."

    I stare at her. "First dibs?"

    She shrugs again, completely unbothered. "Yup! But she also said if Twilight messes it up, she's just gonna take you for herself."

    I reel.

    My brain short-circuits.

    "What?"

    Sweetie tilts her head. "Yeah, she said, 'It would be simply uncouth to steal him outright, but if Twilight fumbles, well…'" Sweetie waves a hoof vaguely. "Then she just kinda smiled all sneaky-like."

    I stare at her.

    My brain is not equipped to deal with this.

    "Rarity was first, though," I say, slowly, as if that somehow helps make sense of this mess. "Why let Twilight go first?"

    Sweetie just shrugs. "Because they're friends?"

    I blink.

    I blink again.

    Then it hits me.

    It doesn't matter.

    Because I don't like either of them like that.

    I exhale hard, shaking my head. "You know what? Doesn't even matter."

    Sweetie Belle giggles. "Wow, you really don't get it."

    I scowl. "No, I get it. I just don't care."

    She snickers. "Keep telling yourself that."

    I groan. This filly is going to end me.

    Sweetie Belle, now way too emboldened by my suffering, leans in.

    "So… back to the human thing. if you were human before, do you, like, miss it?"

    I scowl. "Sweetie—"

    "I mean, you've been a pony for a while, right?" she presses, her eyes gleaming with the enthusiasm of somepony who has zero self-preservation instincts. "So, like… does it feel weird? Do you still think like a human, or are you starting to think like a pony? Like, do you ever look at pony food and think, 'Wow, I'd love to eat that now'?"

    I stare at her.

    She stares back.

    I exhale sharply. "Sweetie Belle. Get out of my house."

    She gasps dramatically, hoof to her chest. "What?! But I have so many questions!"

    I start physically pushing her toward the door. "Yeah, well, I have so many regrets about letting you in."

    She digs her hooves into the floor, still grinning. "Wait! What about hands? Do you miss hands?"

    I deadpan at the ceiling. "Sweetie—"

    "Oh! And—do you think you'll ever go back to being a human? Like, what if there's a way? Would you do it?"

    I shove her through the doorway. "Goodbye, Sweetie Belle."

    She laughs as I slam the door in her face.

    Through the wood, I hear her sing-song, "I'm gonna tell Rarity everything!"

    I groan, pressing my forehead against the door.

    That filly is too nosy for her own good.

    And now I have to worry about what kind of insane gossip is going to spread from this.

    I sigh.
     
  • New
  • Threadmarks
    • TFTC. Is there a backlog somewhere that I do not know of ? I go look at fimfiction.

    Checked. Yep. I go follow and read it in fimfiction.

    This is so good. making the golem and the sentience rune :3

    Is there going to be some Equestria girls here ?
     
    I have... A theory.

    I think Flux is the element of bravery. He has spent the majority of his time in this world cowering and afraid, but bravery isn't measured by the absence of fear. It's measured in ones ability to push forward in spite of it. And he has certainly been doing that a lot and often, even if he doesn't want to.
     
    A Throne of Lies New
  • Threadmarks
    • I stand there for a moment, forehead still against the door, taking a slow, deep breath.

    I can already hear the conversation happening over at the Boutique.

    Rarity, gasping dramatically. Twilight, getting way too excited. Maybe even Applejack, nodding along like this is just some natural course of events.

    I groan. "Unbelievable."

    I turn back toward my workshop, my eyes landing on Rachel, who, mercifully, had remained silent during all of that.

    At least she doesn't talk.

    I sigh, rubbing my temple. "What do you think, Rachel? If I added enough 'if-then' conditions to you, do you think they'd believe I was dating you?"

    Of course, she doesn't answer.

    She just stands there, stone-faced and annoyingly attractive in a way that only makes this whole situation more embarrassing.

    I grumble to myself, already imagining the absolute disaster that would unfold if Twilight or Rarity found out I built an artificial girlfriend just to avoid this nonsense.

    Then again… if they did believe it, maybe they'd stop trying.

    I shake my head. No. That's insane. Even for me.

    Still.

    I glance at Rachel again.

    "…You're lucky you're useful," I mutter, before making my way back to my notes.

    I need to get my mind off this. Back to work. Back to not dealing with whatever insane romance drama is now circling around me like a pack of hungry vultures.

    I pick up my quill, flip open my rune book, and start sketching.

    If I just focus, maybe—

    KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

    I freeze.

    The door.

    I close my eyes, mentally preparing myself for whoever is about to make my life worse.

    I exhale sharply, walking over and pulling it open.

    "Oh, good!" Twilight beams at me, entirely too happy.

    I stare.

    "Nope." I start to close the door.

    Her magic stops it. "Kinetic."

    I scowl. "You have to give me a break, Sparkle."

    She smirks. "Never."

    Twilight stands there, smug, like she already knows she's won.

    "The girls and I are going on a picnic," she announces. "And you're coming."

    I scowl. "No, I'm not."

    She just smiles wider. "Yes, you are."

    I groan, rubbing my temple. "Twilight. We just spent all day together the day before yesterday."

    She hums. "And?"

    I gesture vaguely. "And that's enough socialization for one week."

    Twilight raises an eyebrow. "If you had it your way, you'd be a hermit."

    I cross my hooves. "I don't see the problem."

    She smirks. "The problem is that we like you, and we're not letting you become a hermit."

    I scowl harder. "I have things to do."

    Twilight tilts her head. "Oh? Like what?"

    I freeze.

    I can't tell her about Rachel. Not yet. She did give me the books on runes, but if she finds out I used them to make a six-foot-tall rock waifu, I'll never hear the end of it.

    I scramble for an excuse. "Uh. Research."

    Twilight raises an eyebrow. "Uh-huh. What kind of research?"

    I grit my teeth. "Runes."

    She beams. "Perfect! A break will be nice, then."

    I groan loudly, dragging my hooves down my face. "Twilight—"

    "C'mon," she says, turning and already walking off, expecting me to follow. "It'll be fun. Fresh air. Good food. Great company."

    I don't move. I don't respond. I just stand there, my brain spinning in eight different directions.

    Because now—now—I know.

    That last outing was a date.

    For her.

    And I was oblivious.

    And now I have to sit in a field with her, pretending I don't know that, while also pretending everything is normal.

    Nope.

    This is too much.

    I take a slow step backward toward my house.

    Twilight's horn glows.

    I immediately stop.

    I narrow my eyes. "Sparkle."

    She smiles sweetly. "Yes?"

    "You wouldn't."

    Her grin widens. "Try me."

    I sigh deeply, already knowing I've lost.

    "Fine," I mutter. "But if this turns into another disaster, I will walk into the Everfree and let nature take me."

    Twilight giggles. "Duly noted."

    I don't trust her at all.

    I sit in the grass, scanning the spread Twilight has put together.

    It's… excessive.

    Plates upon plates of different foods, carefully arranged on a checkered picnic blanket. Sandwiches, salads, fruits, pastries—way more than necessary for a simple picnic.

    I shoot Twilight a look. "This is a lot."

    She hums, looking entirely too pleased with herself. "I just wanted to make sure there were plenty of options."

    I narrow my eyes. Suspicious.

    Still, free food is free food. I start looking for something decent.

    I spot a plate of grilled, seasoned fish.

    I blink.

    Huh. That's rare. Ponies can eat fish, but it's mostly a pegasi thing. Most earth ponies and unicorns stick to a vegetarian diet.

    I shrug and grab a piece, along with some coleslaw and something that looks like Mexican street corn.

    I barely register Twilight making a soft hmm noise as I do.

    I pause, looking up. "…What?"

    She blinks, too innocent. "Nothing."

    I squint, but move on, grabbing a small side of roasted potatoes.

    Another hmm.

    I glance up again.

    Twilight's expression is perfectly neutral.

    I frown. Weird.

    I grab a strawberry and kiwi sandwich.

    Hmm.

    Now I know she's doing it on purpose.

    I set the sandwich down slowly and narrow my eyes at her.

    She just smiles. "Something wrong?"

    I gesture vaguely at her. "You keep making noises."

    She tilts her head. "Do I?"

    "Yes."

    She shrugs. "Oh. Don't mind me."

    I don't believe her, but I'm too hungry to care.

    I take a bite of the fish first.

    It's good.

    Twilight and the others, meanwhile, are subtly watching me eat it.

    I slow my chewing. "…What?"

    Applejack raises an eyebrow. "Didn't take ya for a fish-eater."

    I frown. "What's that supposed to mean?"

    She shrugs. "It's just not somethin' ya see every day from unicorns."

    I pause.

    Right.

    They don't know.

    I clear my throat. "I just… grew up with it."

    Twilight hums again, her eyes sharp with observation.

    I scowl. "Stop that."

    She sips her tea, smug as hell.

    I get the distinct feeling she's collecting data on me.

    I do not like that feeling.

    I shake my head and get back to eating, doing my best to ignore whatever Weird Twilight Thing™ is happening.

    For now, at least, it's just a normal picnic.

    Hopefully.

    I focus on my food, trying to tune out the very obvious way Twilight is mentally cataloging my every choice like some kind of overenthusiastic scientist.

    I grab a slice of Tart de Bry.

    "Hmm."

    I glare at her.

    She blinks, feigning innocence, and takes a dainty sip of her tea.

    I exhale sharply through my nose but let it slide, instead tuning into the conversation around me.

    Rarity is chatting animatedly with Fluttershy, something about a truly horrendous fabric she encountered the other day.

    "It was simply dreadful," Rarity huffs. "A crime against textiles. I wouldn't use it to mop my floors."

    Fluttershy nods, her expression sympathetic. "That sounds awful."

    Rainbow Dash stretches her wings. "I still don't get how fabric can be that bad."

    Rarity gasps. "Rainbow!"

    "What? It's cloth. Just don't buy it."

    "That's not the point," Rarity insists, dramatically pressing a hoof to her forehead. "What if some poor, unsuspecting soul actually wears it?"

    Rainbow rolls her eyes. "Then that's their problem."

    Applejack chuckles. "Sounds like a lotta fuss over nothin'."

    Rarity looks scandalized. "A lot of fuss?! Applejack, fashion is a statement! It's how we present ourselves to the world! It's an art!"

    Applejack shrugs. "If ya say so."

    Rarity sighs dramatically, turning to Twilight. "At least you understand, don't you, darling?"

    Twilight hums. "I mean, I appreciate aesthetics, but I think I draw the line at textile crimes."

    Rarity sighs again, shaking her head. "Simply uncultured."

    Rainbow snickers. "Y'know, if that's your biggest problem this week, I think you're doin' alright."

    Rarity flips her mane. "That is not the point."

    I snort, popping another piece of kiwi into my mouth. "It's kinda the point."

    Twilight hmm's again.

    I shoot her another look.

    She just smiles, entirely too pleased with herself.

    I swear to Celestia, I'm going to flip this entire picnic blanket.

    The picnic is going smoothly when a very winded Spike suddenly comes charging across the field.

    "Twilight! I… have… lemme just—" He takes a deep breath before letting out a loud belch, producing a scroll in a burst of green flame.

    Twilight catches it in her magic, unfurling it as we all watch.

    She clears her throat and begins reading.

    "Dear Twilight, I am sure you are as excited as I am about the upcoming wedding in Canterlot."
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    She pauses, blinking. "Wedding?"

    The others perk up, ears twitching.

    "I will be presiding over the ceremony but would very much like you and your friends to help with the preparations for this wonderful occasion."
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    She skims ahead, eyes scanning the letter.

    "Fluttershy, I would like you and your songbird choir to provide the music."
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    Fluttershy gasps, holding her hooves to her chest. "Oh my goodness! What an honor!"

    "Pinkie Pie, I can think of no one more qualified than you to host the reception."
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    Pinkie explodes into movement. "Hip, hip, hooray!" She does a cartwheel for no reason.

    "Applejack, you will be in charge of the catering for the reception."
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    Applejack tips her hat back, grinning. "Well, color me pleased as punch!"

    "Rainbow Dash–"
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    Rainbow lets out a loud yawn.

    Twilight continues.

    "...I would very much appreciate it if you could perform a sonic rainboom as the bride and groom complete their 'I do's.'"
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    Rainbow's eyes snap open, wings flaring out. "YES!"

    "Rarity, you will be responsible for designing the dresses for the bride and her bridesmaids."
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    Rarity gasps so hard she nearly chokes. "The Princess wants me to—" she starts, before breaking into incomprehensible noises. "A wedding dress? For a Canterlot wedding? I, ah, ooh, oooh!"

    And then she drops like a sack of bricks.

    Twilight rolls her eyes and keeps reading.

    "And as for you, Twilight, you will be playing the most important role of all: Making sure that everything goes as planned. See you all very soon. Yours, Princess Celestia."
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    She pauses, frowning. "But… I don't understand. Who's getting married?"

    Spike scratches his head. "Oh, wait! Uh, I was probably supposed to give you this one first." He pulls out another scroll and hands it to her.

    Twilight snatches it and quickly scans the words.

    "Princess Celestia cordially invites you to the wedding of Princess Mi Amore Cadenza and…"
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    She stops.

    Her pupils shrink.

    Her face twitches.

    "MY BROTHER?!"

    I burst out laughing.

    The whole table turns to stare at me as I cackle, slamming a hoof against the picnic blanket.

    "Oh, that's GREAT!" I wheeze. "Twilight, your own brother didn't even tell you?! That's hilarious!"

    Twilight scowls, her face going red for multiple reasons. "IT IS NOT FUNNY!"

    I wipe a tear from my eye. "Oh, no, it definitely is."

    The others, meanwhile, have moved past the initial shock and are now actually congratulating her.

    "Your brother's getting married? Congratulations, Twilight!" Applejack beams.

    "Yeah, that's great news!" Rainbow grins.

    Twilight, however, is not having it.

    "Yeah. Great news." She glares at the invitation like it personally insulted her. "News that I just got from a wedding invitation. Not from my brother, but from a piece of paper! Thanks a lot, Shining Armor!"

    She starts pacing, her tail flicking in irritation.

    "I mean, really! He couldn't tell me personally?!" She deepens her voice in a terrible impression of what I can only assume is her brother. "Hey, Twilight, just thought you should know I'm making a really big decision that changes everything!"

    She snorts. "Oh, never mind! You'll hear about it when you get the invitation!"

    Rarity, who has recovered from her fainting spell, coughs delicately. "Well… who exactly is this Princess Mi Amore Cadenza?"

    Twilight freezes.

    She blinks.

    She re-scans the invitation.

    "Who in the hoof is that?!" she demands.

    I chuckle to myself, leaning back. "Wow. Your own brother and his fiancée didn't think to tell you. This just gets better and better."

    Twilight glares at me like she's about to incinerate me with sheer rage.

    Before she can explode, though, she scans the page one more time.

    And then—

    Her eyes narrow.

    "Oh, and look at this," she says pointedly, holding the letter up again. "Princess Celestia also included a special P.S."

    She clears her throat and glares directly at me as she reads.

    "P.S. Archmage Kinetic Flux is also to accompany you all to Canterlot to assist with the wedding preparations."
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    I freeze.

    My ears flick back.

    I groan, dragging a hoof down my face. "You have got to be kidding me."

    Rainbow snickers. "Oooooh, Archmage Kinetic, looks like you're important after all."

    Pinkie bounces in place. "Ooooh! Do you think you get to wear a fancy robe? Or maybe they'll give you one of those cool wizard hats!"

    I scowl. "I am not wearing a hat."

    Applejack smirks. "Ya sure? Seems like a mighty fine occasion to dress up all proper-like."

    Rarity gasps dramatically, clutching her chest. "Oh! If that's the case, we must get you a suit! Something elegant! Something refined! Something—"

    I hold up a hoof. "I own a suit."

    Rarity blinks, looking scandalized. "Oh, darling, you can't possibly mean—"

    "The cheap one. Yes."

    She gasps, genuinely horrified. "You cannot possibly mean to attend a Canterlot Royal Wedding in something cheap!"

    I smirk. "Watch me."

    She dramatically falls onto the picnic blanket like I just mortally wounded her.

    Twilight watches the exchange with an amused glint in her eye before rolling up the letter. "Well, you'd better start packing, Kinetic."

    I grunt, still not thrilled about it. But, fine. If I have to go, then at the very least, I'm not showing up empty-hooved.

    I stand up and shake off some grass. "Fine. I'll grab my things."

    "See ya at the station!" Rainbow calls.

    I ignore her and start heading home.

    I step into the H.A.R.D.I.S., letting the door shut behind me with a heavy thud. The silence of the place wraps around me, a stark contrast to the chaos I just left at the picnic.

    I sigh, rolling my shoulders. "Alright, let's get this over with."

    First things first—my suit. I dig through my drawer, finding the pile of the only three items of clothing I own and yank out the suit. It's simple, black, nothing fancy. The kind of suit that says, I tried, but not that hard. Perfect.

    I toss it onto my bed and turn toward my saddlebags, going over the essentials—bits, a notebook, and the usual travel supplies.

    Then my eyes drift toward her room.

    Rachel is exactly where I left her, lying on the bed in complete stillness. Her stone form is perfectly motionless, carved with precision, every joint in place. She looks eerily lifelike—human, in a way that nothing else in Equestria is.

    I chew the inside of my cheek.

    This wedding isn't just going to be a wedding. I know what's coming. Changelings. An invasion. A fight.

    A fight where I'll need all the help I can get.

    I groan, rubbing the back of my neck. "This is a terrible idea."

    I sigh, stepping forward. "Alright, Rachel. Time to move."

    I clear my throat. "On."

    Rachel's body reanimates. Slowly, she rises from the bed, her movements smooth, joints clicking into place. She stands at attention, waiting for further instruction.

    I gesture toward the door. "Follow."

    She moves fluidly, eerily graceful for something made of stone. Her bare feet hit the floor with a dull thud as she follows me out.

    This is fine. This is fine.

    I sling my saddlebags over my back, grab my suit, and step outside. Rachel follows in silence, like a well-trained construct should.

    No one will question this.

    No one will say anything.

    No one will—

    The moment I step onto the train platform, every conversation dies.

    Six pairs of eyes immediately zero in on Rachel.

    Twilight is the first to react.

    "What is that?!" she shrieks.

    I scowl. "Gee, Sparkle, I don't know. Looks like a golem to me."

    "That is not a normal golem!" She gestures wildly at Rachel. "That's—why does she look like that?!"

    Applejack adjusts her hat, eyes narrowing. "And what's with the, uh... proportions?"

    I blink. "What?"

    Rainbow snickers. "C'mon, dude. The big flank? The big, uh... everything?"

    I freeze.

    Pinkie suddenly zips around Rachel, eyes wide. "Ooooh, even her hooves are super detailed! But wait, they're not hooves! They're—what are these?"

    I grit my teeth. "Feet."

    Fluttershy tilts her head. "Feet?"

    I wave my hoof vaguely. "Like hooves, but... different."

    Rarity, who has been silently observing this whole time, suddenly gasps, her eyes sparkling with intrigue. "Ohhh, my stars! Darling, is this what humans look like?!"

    I groan. "We are not having this conversation."

    Rarity does not listen. "The proportions! The elegance! The curves! And her attire—why, it almost resembles a leotard!"

    Twilight's eye twitches. "Wait. You made her, right?"

    I cross my hooves. "Obviously."

    Twilight levels a look at me. "Then why did you make her like that?"

    I cough. "Functional design."

    Rainbow barks out a laugh. "Functional?!"

    "Yes," I say firmly, grasping at anything that sounds remotely logical. "The, uh, shape is necessary for... stability."

    Twilight deadpans. "Stability."

    "Yes."

    Applejack raises an eyebrow. "An' what about, uh... the chest area?"

    I swallow. "Ballast."

    Rainbow doubles over laughing. "Oh, this is gold."

    Rarity is still examining Rachel with open fascination. "And her face, darling—why, she's positively striking!"

    I shrug, forcing a casual tone. "Well, if she can only have one expression, it might as well be a good one."

    Rarity coos in appreciation, while Twilight lets out a frustrated huff. Her ears splay back for a moment before she masks it with a tight smile. I catch the way she eyes Rachel's face—smooth, sculpted, undeniably human—and sense her unease.

    She mutters under her breath, "Looks more than good. Looks like you spent way too much time on every detail."

    I bristle. "It's just a golem."

    Twilight glares at me. "Sure it is."

    Before I can retort, the stallion at the ticket window clears his throat. "sir?" He points a hoof at Rachel. "You need a second ticket for… that."

    I snap my gaze to him. "She's not a pony. She doesn't even need a seat."

    He levels a glare. "If it's comin' aboard, it needs a ticket."

    A heavy sigh escapes me. "Fine, fine." I slap down the bits, feeling an odd pang of guilt flit through my chest. This is all so unnecessary. But… also weirdly my fault.

    With two tickets in tow, I step onto the train. Rachel follows silently, drawing stares from every direction. The rest of the girls find their seats—some taking a row together, others spreading out. I sit on one of the cushioned benches.

    I try to maneuver Rachel beside me, muttering, "Off," so she goes inert. With a faint click of her joints, she halts, expression still locked in that cool stare. I start to levitate her gently, aiming to set her on the bench next to me— But Twilight slides into the spot before I can try. I pause, blinking at her sudden intrusion. She's pointedly not looking at me, but her jaw is tense, ears pinned back.

    I hover Rachel in the aisle for a split second, then sigh and gently set her on the floor lean her against the wall. Her expression stays that same neutral pout, eyes half-lidded.

    Twilight exhales a sharp little breath "You can't just—" but she clamps her mouth shut, staring out the window with a dark frown.

    I shift uncomfortably, trying not to read into it. Instead, I clear my throat. "So… looking forward to seeing your brother?"

    She snorts. "Looking forward to giving him a piece of my mind, maybe."

    Her tail flicks in agitation. She turns a little, glancing in my general direction, but not quite meeting my gaze. "I still can't believe he didn't tell me. And who is Princess Mi Amore Cadenza, anyway?"

    I shrug. "Maybe he's busy. Guard captain stuff."

    She scowls at that. "He should've written me personally. Or come in pony." For a moment, she looks like she might rant further, but then her eyes flick toward Rachel—staring, unblinking, from across the aisle—and Twilight's voice fades. She presses her lips into a thin line and returns to glaring out the window.

    I tap my hoof on the seat, unsure how to break the awkward silence. Eventually, I just give up and stare out my own side of the train. The rhythmic clack of the wheels is the only real conversation for a while.

    It's a long trip to Canterlot. And with Twilight stewing over her brother's wedding—and apparently harboring some other frustration she can't quite voice—I have a feeling it's going to feel even longer.

    I lean back against the seat, letting my head rest against the cool window. The rhythmic clatter of the train wheels does its best to lull me into a stupor, but unfortunately, the ongoing conversation between Twilight and Applejack makes that impossible.

    "Why the long face, sugarcube?" Applejack asks, tilting her hat back as she eyes Twilight with concern.

    Twilight sighs, her ears drooping. "I'm just thinking about Shining Armor. Ever since I moved to Ponyville, we've been seeing each other less and less. And now that he's starting a new family with this Princess Mi Amore Ca-whatshername, we'll probably never see each other."

    I roll my eyes. Oh no, her grown adult brother has a life outside of her. What a tragedy.

    I do my best to tune them out, watching the scenery blur past the window. Maybe if I stare at the hills long enough, I'll forget that I'm currently being dragged into a wedding I want nothing to do with.

    But Twilight, as always, finds ways to make my life harder.

    She keeps glancing at me between sentences—just quick little side-eyes.

    I ignore it at first. Maybe she's just fidgety. Maybe she's still mad that Rachel exists.

    She continues, "It's like, no matter how much I want to stay close to somepony, they just… get distracted with other things. And then suddenly, we barely see each other at all."

    Another pointed glance in my direction.

    I exhale through my nose. Here we go.

    Applejack, blissfully unaware of the subtext, pats Twilight's back. "Aw, shoot, Twi. Just 'cause he's gettin' married don't mean he'll just up and forget ya. You're his sister. Family don't just disappear like that."

    Twilight sighs. "I guess you're right. But still… he didn't even tell me about the wedding himself. It's like he thought I wouldn't care."

    Another glance.

    I look straight ahead, pretending I don't see it.

    Applejack hums. "Well, maybe he just figured ya'd be excited no matter how ya found out?"

    Twilight huffs. "That's not the point. I should have been one of the first ponies he told. Instead, I'm getting invitations and second-hoof information."

    Another glance.

    My eye twitches.

    I press my hoof against my forehead. Twilight, I swear—

    She exhales, shaking her head. "It's frustrating, you know? Feeling like somepony's just drifting away from you."

    Another glance.

    I snap.

    "Oh, for the love of—Twilight!" I throw my hooves up. "Do you need something? Because you keep looking at me like I'm a problem."

    She bristles, her cheeks puffing slightly. "I don't—" She hesitates. "I mean, maybe!"

    I groan. "What now?"

    Twilight fidgets, looking like she regrets saying anything. "I just… you have been more distant lately."

    I blink. "Distant? I've always been distant."

    Applejack snickers. "He's got ya there."

    Twilight scowls. "Not this distant. You've been more… closed off." Her gaze flicks to Rachel again. "And distracted."

    I scowl right back. "I'm allowed to have hobbies, Twilight."

    She makes a strangled noise. "That's not—ugh!"

    Applejack wisely decides to stay out of it, leaning back and tipping her hat over her face.

    Twilight mutters under her breath, then turns back toward the window, her tail flicking in irritation.

    I lean back, rubbing my temple. This is going to be a long train ride.

    By the time we get in viewing distance of Canterlot, I'm ready to fling myself off the train just to get away from this nonsense.

    As we approach the city, though, something immediately stands out—there's a forcefield surrounding the entire capital.

    I frown, watching as the shimmering dome stretches high over the towers and spires, pulsing with magic.

    "What in the hay?" Applejack mutters, tilting her hat back.

    Twilight perks up. "A forcefield? That's—wait. That's Shining Armor's magic!" She presses her face against the window. "Why would he put up a defensive barrier?"

    I watch as the train barrels forward, heading straight for the shield.

    The closer we get, the more I feel it—the unmistakable hum of condensed magical energy, thrumming like an overcharged battery.

    Then, we pass through.

    The instant the barrier washes over us, I feel a sharp sting along my horn and spine. I wince slightly, my limbs briefly tingling, but the sensation fades as quickly as it came.

    I glance around. Nopony else seems to react.

    Huh. Weird.

    Before I can dwell on it, the train lurches to a stop at the station.

    The moment the doors open, Twilight immediately jumps off the train, laser-focused on finding her brother.

    The rest of us step out more casually, taking in the sight of a more militarized Canterlot. The usual bustling streets are a little more tense—guards are stationed on every major road, and patrols march in organized formations.

    We don't get long to gawk, though, as a stallion in royal armor trots up to us.

    "Miss Rarity?" he asks, looking over the group.

    Rarity straightens. "Yes, darling?"

    "You'll be escorted to the palace seamstress wing immediately. The Princess has arranged workspaces for you."

    Rarity beams. "Oh! Wonderful! Right this way, then?"

    The stallion nods, leading her off.

    A few more guards approach, handing out orders.

    "Applejack, you're to report to the kitchens for preparation duty."

    "Pinkie Pie, the event staff are awaiting you at the reception hall."

    "Fluttershy, your choir has already been gathered at the east garden."

    "Rainbow Dash, the princess has requested a flight briefing before the ceremony."

    Each of them nods and starts heading off in their designated directions, leaving just me.

    A final pair of guards stop in front of me.

    I raise an eyebrow. "Well? Where's my grand assignment?"

    The taller of the two—built like a brick wall—gives me a once-over. "You're assigned to security detail."

    I blink. "…Huh."

    That's… actually reasonable.

    I exhale, rolling my shoulders. "Alright. Guess that makes sense. What's the plan?"

    The guard jerks his head toward the castle. "You'll be briefed inside. Come with us."

    I glance back at Rachel, who still walks with a perfect stride behind me.

    The guard looks at her, then at me. "Your… companion will need clearance."

    I sigh. "Yeah, yeah, she's with me. I'll handle it."

    The second guard steps forward, nodding. "Then let's move."

    And just like that, I'm marched off toward my new security post.

    This whole thing is going to be a disaster. I can already feel it.

    The moment they lead me into the dimly lit tower room, I know something's off.

    One guard stays posted outside while the other steps in with me. The door clicks shut behind us, leaving only the flickering torchlight to cast long shadows against the walls.

    I don't let my posture change, but my magic subtly tightens around the small, compressed piece of chalk I've been holding.

    Then I see it.

    A faint flicker.

    The briefest glow of green in the so-called guard's eyes.

    I don't hesitate.

    In a single fluid motion, I launch the chalk at insane speeds.

    There's a sickening crack.

    The changeling—because obviously, it's a changeling—barely has time to react before the projectile strikes dead center in its forehead. The sheer force sends its head whipping back, a jagged hole blasting straight through its skull. The illusion immediately vanishes, revealing a black bug pony.

    The thing collapses instantly, twitching once before going completely still.

    I blink.

    "…Wow. They didn't waste any time on trying to get me."

    I exhale slowly, already adjusting my strategy.

    One changeling down. But the second one outside? It doesn't know yet.

    If the rest of the swarm realizes I'm onto them, all of them are going to be on me in seconds.

    I have to make sure that doesn't happen.

    Quickly, I get to work.

    First, the body.

    I focus my magic, weaving it into the fallen changeling's corpse. There's moisture locked in its cells, residual from its biological processes. I systematically begin extracting it, using controlled telekinetic manipulation to force the water molecules to separate from the organic material.

    Without moisture, decomposition halts—bacteria can't break it down, and the flesh becomes brittle, more like dry parchment than a proper corpse.

    With that step done, I move to phase two.

    Breaking it apart.

    Not smashing—separating.

    I take hold of the molecular bonds within the changeling's chitin, muscle, and bone, then systematically weaken the interatomic forces binding them together. Van der Waals forces, hydrogen bonds, ionic links—all of them, broken down piece by piece with meticulous precision.

    It's not fast. Not like combustion or outright destruction. It's controlled disassembly.

    The body starts flaking apart—not like ash, but like an ultra-fine powder. It's not burning, not breaking, just separating into its base components.

    Within seconds, all that remains is a cloud of near-microscopic dust.

    I funnel it together into a single, nearly invisible stream, directing it out the only window in the tower's room with a faint pulse of air. The changeling is now nothing more than scattered molecules floating away on the wind.

    I exhale, rolling my shoulders.

    One problem down.

    Now, the other changeling.

    I turn back toward the door, my mind already working three steps ahead.

    The changeling outside doesn't know what happened. If it did, it would've barged in already. That means I have a brief window to sell my next move.

    Changelings identify each other using a brief flash of green in their eyes—it's a subtle tell, but one I can replicate.

    I pull some chalk dust out of my bag. Layering just in front of my eyes I will be able to shift the perceived color from my usual gold to green, just a flash, just enough to fool a fool.

    I take a breath, letting my posture remain neutral.

    Then I open the door.

    The guard outside—who is absolutely another changeling—turns toward me immediately, its stance subtly tensed.

    For a fraction of a second, I see its muscles coil, ready to strike.

    I don't react.

    I just let my gaze lock onto it.

    And then—just long enough for it to register—I let my eyes flicker green before quickly scattering the dust, returning my eyes to their natural color.

    The changeling freezes.

    I stare at it.

    It stares at me.

    The tension in the air is thick enough to cut with a knife.

    I keep my expression carefully controlled. Changelings aren't stupid. They rely on deception just as much as I do. If I give away even the slightest tell that I'm faking this, I'll be fighting for my life before I can blink.

    The changeling tilts its head slightly, scrutinizing me.

    I resist the urge to adjust my stance. Instead, I do exactly what one of them would do—nothing. Just watching. Calculating.

    After a long moment, the changeling gives a subtle nod.

    I return it with the barest dip of my head.

    It steps aside, allowing me to exit.

    I do, making sure my pace is calm but purposeful—like I have somewhere to be, but not in a hurry. Like I belong here.

    With one final glance over my shoulder, I step away from the tower.

    Alright, I think to myself, now I just have to keep this up without getting found out.

    Easy, right?

    I make my way back to the castle, keeping my movements calculated, careful. I'm not exactly bad at blending in, but this is a whole new level of deception. I can't act normal. I have to act like a changeling thinks normal looks like.

    I step into the kitchen, where Applejack is setting out trays of food. The warm scent of cinnamon and fried dough fills the air. Twilight is there too, already in deep thought, eyes narrowed. She's onto something—or at least, she thinks she is.

    Spike, meanwhile, is playing with tiny figurines of the bride and groom that go on top of the wedding cake.

    "I do. Do you?" he mimics in high-pitched voices, making the toys 'kiss' before nervously chuckling at himself.

    I take my place in the corner of the room, my face carefully neutral.

    Applejack beams, wiping flour off her hooves. "Cake, check. Ice sculpture, check. Best darn bite-size apple fritter you ever tasted—"

    Twilight takes a slow bite, chewing with precision, like she's cataloging each individual flavor. She swallows, then nods. "Mmm. Check."

    Spike, ever the little dork, continues his impromptu ceremony. His toy ponies press together, complete with exaggerated kissing noises. He laughs nervously, glancing up for approval.

    Applejack just grins, setting another tray down with a satisfying clunk. "Hiya, Princess!"

    Princess Cadance—or rather, the thing masquerading as her—steps into the kitchen with that eerily perfect smile. "Please, call me Princess Mi Amore Cadenza."

    Applejack, bless her heart, doesn't even hesitate. "Hiya, Princess Mi Amore Cadenza! You come to check out what's on the menu for your big day?"

    "I have!" She picks up a fritter, takes a bite, and for the briefest moment, her nose scrunches with distaste. Then she smiles again, almost too wide. "Delicious! I love-love-love them." Her laugh is high-pitched, forced.

    I watch her carefully, keeping my expression neutral, my posture just slightly off—like I'm thinking about how I should stand, how I should act. I keep my movements slow, deliberate, mimicking the way the other ponies move but with just a hint of something... not quite right.

    Applejack doesn't notice. "Aw, shucks. Why don't you take a few to go? I know how you brides can be. So busy, you forget to get a little somethin' in your belly."

    Cadance hesitates for half a second too long before smiling. "That's... thoughtful of you." She levitates the bag and then, just as quickly, tosses it in the trash on her way out.

    That is the exact moment Twilight locks up.

    She stares, eyes wide, pupils shrinking, like she just witnessed a war crime.

    I stay silent.

    Applejack doesn't even blink. "Did... you see what she—" Twilight begins, voice pitched with alarm.

    Applejack shrugs. "What? She's just watchin' her figure, that's all."

    Twilight turns to me, eyes pleading, looking for confirmation, for support, for any sign that she's not alone in this.

    I tilt my head, just slightly, like I'm considering. Then I shake it, just once. "Seems normal to me."

    Twilight's jaw drops, just a little.

    Because that's the thing. I'm not agreeing with Applejack. I'm not dismissing Twilight's suspicions. I'm just... not engaging.

    A changeling trying to blend in wouldn't question their queen. A changeling wouldn't see anything wrong.

    I let the silence linger just long enough to feel unnatural.

    Twilight's expression twitches, but she swallows whatever she was about to say.

    Applejack, oblivious, carries on with her work.

    Spike, still playing with his toys, makes another set of obnoxious kissing noises.

    And me?

    I keep my face blank, my stance too measured, my words just a fraction too careful.

    Like a stranger, mimicking familiarity.

    The castle halls feel a little too grand, a little too empty. Maybe it's just my nerves, the constant awareness that I'm playing a part in a game I barely know the rules to. I keep my movements smooth, calculated, just a fraction too careful. Every step, every glance—just enough to not raise suspicion, but not enough to feel natural.

    I follow Twilight as she storms into the dressing room where Rarity is putting the finishing touches on Cadance's wedding gown. Twilight is practically vibrating with frustration, her hooves clacking hard against the floor.

    "Oh, you should have seen how she acted back there," she huffs, pacing near Rarity's workstation. "I don't know when she changed, but she changed!" She deepens her voice, mockingly mimicking, "Please, call me Princess Mi Amore Cadenza."

    I stay by the door, neutral. Watching. Calculating.

    "Did I hear someone say my name?"

    Twilight freezes mid-step.

    Princess Cadance strides into the room, the very picture of poise. She smiles, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes. The air shifts.

    Rarity, ever the professional (and social climber), is already mid-bow. "Your Highness! Let me just start by saying what an honor it is to play a role in such a momentous occasion." She lets out a nervous little laugh, tail flicking in barely concealed excitement.

    Cadance doesn't react much. Her expression remains cool, detached. "Uh-huh. Is my dress ready?"

    Rarity stammers, straightening up. "Yes, of course! Um, I've been working on it ever since I was given the assignment, and I think you'll be pleased with the results!" She gives a nervous little giggle and pulls back the curtain, revealing the dress she's poured her heart into.

    Cadance steps forward, eyes scanning over the fabric, the shimmer of the material, the lacework.

    Her nose wrinkles.

    "I was hoping for something with more beading," she says, voice perfectly level. "And a longer train."

    Rarity barely blinks before snapping into action. "Oh, yes, of course."

    Cadance's eyes flick to the bridesmaid's dresses again. "And those should be a different color."

    From the side, Twinkleshine pipes up, "I think they're lovely!"

    Minuette nods enthusiastically. "Me too!"

    Lyra Heartstrings beams. "I love them."

    Cadance doesn't even acknowledge them, narrowing her eyes. "Make them a different color."

    She walks out without waiting for a reply.

    Twilight sucks in a sharp breath, her face twisting with barely restrained irritation. "Gee, maybe her name should be 'Princess Demandy-Pants'."

    I school my expression into something neutral, noncommittal. Twilight is looking for someone to validate her anger, to stand by her, to confirm that something isn't right.

    I offer her nothing.

    I let my silence stretch long enough for her to notice.

    Her jaw tightens, but she doesn't say anything.

    I glance at Rarity, who looks torn between placating Twilight and not wanting to criticize literal royalty.

    Twilight exhales sharply, her ears twitching in agitation. I know she's fighting the urge to rant at me, to demand I say something.

    Instead, I just give the smallest of shrugs.

    Like a drone trying to mimic natural behavior.

    Like I don't really care.

    Twilight bristles, her tail flicking in agitation, but she doesn't push me on it.

    Instead, she storms out, leaving Rarity sighing over the dress adjustments.

    The moment Twilight stomps off, steam practically shooting from her ears, I exhale through my nose and pivot on my hooves. I don't follow her. I don't want to be in the splash zone when she inevitably explodes at someone. Instead, I take the nearest hallway out of the dressing room, eager for a moment of solitude.

    I don't get one.

    A presence steps from the shadows, and I barely suppress the instinct to flinch. Midnight blue, sharp eyes, and a knowing smirk—Princess Luna.

    "Kinetic Flux," she drawls, head tilting ever so slightly, like she's enjoying herself already. "I see thou art up to thine usual charlatan ways."

    I blink. "Charlatan?" My voice is neutral, unimpressed. "I have never charlataned once in my life. I am a professional magic user with highly sophisticated methods—"

    "Thou art a liar and a fraud and I adore it," Luna interrupts, grin widening. "Thine deception is masterful. We should all aspire to such lengths."

    I pause. Process. "…Are you complimenting me or insulting me? I genuinely can't tell."

    She laughs, eyes glittering. "Both."

    I sigh. "Great."

    Before I can sidestep her and continue pretending to be a normal, totally-not-a-changeling drone, she shifts forward, dropping her voice just slightly.

    "Walk with me."

    That tone. The weight in those words. It's not a request.

    I fall in beside her.

    Luna leads me through the winding halls of the castle, deeper into the structure where the marble walls start feeling heavier, the air cooler. Servants thin out. Guards appear at odd intervals, standing stiff and silent.

    She doesn't speak until we're in a private alcove, away from prying ears.

    Then, she turns to me, her expression losing its playfulness. "There is an unknown threat to Canterlot."

    I blink. Keep my expression blank. "You don't say."

    Luna's eyes narrow, amused but still sharp. "Do not play coy with us. We know thou art perceptive beyond measure."

    I hum thoughtfully. "Flattery will get you everywhere."

    She gives me a look.

    I sigh. "Alright, fine. What kind of unknown threat are we talking about? The fun kind? The terrifying kind? Or the 'why am I awake for this' kind?"

    Luna's jaw tightens slightly. "We are uncertain. There is an unease in the air. We sense something... invasive. Foul. It is concealed well, but it is here."

    I glance around the alcove, noting the high, sloping ceilings and the way the shadows pool in the corners. A good place for a private conversation—but I don't take security for granted.

    I raise an eyebrow. "Is this room secure?"

    Luna's horn flares, casting a silent wave of dark blue magic over the walls, the floor, the very air itself. The spell settles like a curtain, dampening all outside sound, distorting the edges of the room ever so slightly.

    "It is now," she declares confidently.

    I don't react immediately. Instead, I watch her, expression unreadable. Then, I let out a slow breath through my nose.

    "Yeah, it's changelings."

    For the first time, Luna hesitates. "Thou speakest as if with certainty."

    "Because I am," I say flatly.

    The moment the words leave my mouth, Luna's entire expression changes.

    It's subtle. One second, she's standing there, the Moon Princess in all her sharp regality—and the next, there's something wrong about her. The way she holds herself is suddenly too perfect. Too deliberate.

    Too still.

    A fraction of a second later, her horn ignites in a sickly green blaze.

    I don't wait for the attack.

    I can't afford to.

    Because a laser, a real beam of directed energy, moves at the speed of light. Even if I saw it fire, there wouldn't be enough time to react before I was fried. The only way to defend against it is to act before the attack is fully formed, even If I'm not positive that a laser is what's being cast.

    So I do.

    I vibrate the air molecules in an instant, forcing them into a chaotic frenzy. Gas particles slam together, electrons ripped from their atoms by sheer kinetic energy, ionizing the air between us. In less than a millisecond, a thin sheet of plasma forms—superheated, charged, and hungry. A shockwave erupts as the rapid heating forces the air to expand at supersonic speeds, creating a deafening CRACK—a miniature thunderclap right in the enclosed space.

    The moment her spell fires, the beam strikes the plasma barrier.

    The green magic disperses, absorbed and scattered across the energized plasma field. Not a single spark reaches me.

    The changeling disguised as Luna barely has time to react.

    Because I already have my counterattack prepped.

    A condensed chalk powder projectile, packed so densely it might as well be a bullet, is launched at extreme velocity—courtesy of my telekinesis.

    It tears through the changeling's skull before it even registers that it's lost.

    The impact is decisive, clean. The thing drops like a puppet with its strings cut, its disguise unraveling in sickly green fire as its twisted form crumples to the cold stone floor.

    I exhale sharply, dragging a hoof down my face.

    "Jesus Christ."

    That was too convincing. It had the speech patterns, the mannerisms, even the smug little smirk down to an art form. I genuinely thought I was talking to Luna. The real Luna.

    I didn't know they could change the color of their magic.

    I glance down at the rapidly cooling corpse, my ears still ringing slightly from the aftershock of my plasma barrier. "Yeah. Nope. Not doing that again."

    Because clearly, I can't trust myself to tell the difference. And I do not like that.

    From now on? I'll just wait until the wedding—where I know Luna and Celestia have to be real. Probably.

    With a sigh, I turn my attention back to the body. Can't just leave it here. Can't afford to have someone find it and ask questions.

    So I do what I did before.

    With a focused burst of telekinesis, I extract every last molecule of moisture from the changeling's body. I grip the bonds of the dried remains and begin unraveling them—atom by atom, separating the composite materials until nothing but a fine, inert dust remains.

    It's eerily quiet work.

    With a final sweep of magic, I scatter the dust, dispersing it through the room and the cracks in the stone. By the time I step back, there's nothing left.

    Just me, standing in a dimly lit alcove with the ghost of a headache pressing against my skull.

    I take another breath. Roll my shoulders. Collect myself.

    Alright. Back to the plan.

    I pull my posture back into its neutral, slightly-off balance, the same way a changeling mimicking normal would. And with one last glance at the empty space where Luna had stood, I step back into the halls of Canterlot, slipping back into my role.

    The halls of Canterlot Castle are quiet, bathed in the dim glow of moonlight filtering through the grand stained-glass windows. I move at a steady, measured pace, slipping seamlessly back into my role—just another face, just another pony passing through. The events of the last ten minutes are locked behind my eyes, tucked neatly into the back of my mind where no one can see them.

    When I reach the main hall, a guard in golden armor steps forward, stopping me with a polite but firm nod.

    "The princesses have retired for the evening," he informs me. "Your companions as well. You should get some rest, sir."

    I don't recognize this one.

    Then again, I don't recognize most of them.

    I flick my ears, tilting my head just slightly, as if considering. "Right. Wouldn't want to be sleep-deprived for the big day."

    The guard nods once, professional and impassive. "Allow me to escort you to your chambers."

    I keep my expression neutral. Not suspicious, not wary—just tired enough that it makes sense I wouldn't argue. "Lead the way."

    He turns, and I follow.

    I watch him carefully as we walk.

    Not obviously. Not in a way that would tip him off. But I take note of every little thing—the way he carries himself, the cadence of his steps, the stiffness of his posture.

    Doesn't slouch. Doesn't fidget. Doesn't even breathe wrong.

    But neither did the Luna from earlier.

    The trek through the castle is uneventful, but I don't let my guard down. If he's a changeling, he won't make a move now. If they suspect I know, they wouldn't be stupid enough to try something this soon.

    Or maybe they would.

    Because the only changelings who do know are dead.

    And that means I don't know if they know I know.

    The door to my guest chamber looms ahead, carved with swirling gold patterns, absurdly ornate. The guard stops just short of it, giving me a crisp nod.

    "Your room, sir."

    "Appreciated," I say mildly, stepping forward. I push the door open with my magic, letting it swing inward.

    Nothing jumps out at me. No sudden movement. No shadowy figure waiting just inside.

    I turn back to the guard, offering him an easy nod. "Have a good night."

    He returns the gesture without hesitation. "You as well."

    And then he walks away.

    I step inside, but I don't close the door. Not yet.

    Instead, I wait.

    Five seconds.

    Ten.

    The guard doesn't turn back. Doesn't hesitate. Doesn't do anything other than disappear around the next hallway.

    I scan the room quickly. Large, elegant, high ceilings, far too much decoration for my taste. A massive window opens to a view of Canterlot's skyline, the night stretching out beyond the glass. Heavy curtains frame it, drawn halfway closed.

    I step deeper inside. The door clicks shut behind me.

    And I do not sleep.

    I cannot sleep.

    Because no matter how many plans I make, no matter how many countermeasures I prepare, the second I close my eyes, I lose control. The second I let go, I leave myself vulnerable.

    The changelings are patient. They are smart. They won't try something when I'm aware.

    But the moment I'm unconscious?

    They could come for me.

    And I wouldn't even know.

    So I don't sleep.

    Instead, I pull a chair into the corner of the room, facing both the door and the window. I settle into it, still as stone, ears attuned to every creak in the walls, every whisper of wind beyond the glass.

    The night is long.

    But I will be awake to see the dawn.

    The night drags on, stretching into the kind of quiet that feels wrong. Not peaceful—never peaceful. Just still. A silence that presses against the walls, pressing against me.

    I don't move. I barely blink.

    Eventually, the darkness softens, giving way to the dull, gray light of pre-dawn. The city outside stirs slowly, the castle coming to life with the shifting of guards, the distant murmur of servants preparing for the day.

    I let out a slow breath.

    Morning.

    A knock at the door shatters the silence.

    My ears twitch, and I take just a second before responding, making sure my voice is steady. Neutral. Normal.

    "Yeah?"

    The door creaks open, and a castle servant—a unicorn mare in crisp attire—steps in, levitating a tray in front of her. Steam drifts from the covered dishes, the scent of fresh-baked bread and something spiced trailing after her.

    "Breakfast has been prepared for you, sir," she says with a practiced tone, setting the tray down on a table near the window.

    I give her a slow nod. "Appreciate it."

    She inclines her head slightly before turning and walking out, the door clicking shut behind her.

    I don't touch the food.

    Even if it wasn't lethally poisoned—and I do not trust that it isn't—it's not worth the risk. I'd rather deal with hunger than play a game of 'guess if the eggs are laced with mind-control magic.'

    I let the meal sit untouched.

    Instead, I push myself up from the chair, rolling my shoulders as I adjust my stance. No real rest, but I've gone on worse. The dull ache behind my eyes is manageable.

    The rehearsal is soon.

    Time to blend in.

    The castle is alive with movement as I step into the main hall. Servants move with practiced efficiency, guards remain stationed at key points, and everypony seems too preoccupied with their own duties to pay me much mind.

    Good.

    I make my way to the rehearsal chamber—a grand, open hall near the main throne room, lined with tall windows and polished marble floors. The air hums with the murmurs of conversation, the occasional sharp instruction, and the rustle of fabric as Rarity makes last-minute adjustments to some of the decor.

    The wedding party is already gathering.

    The others are scattered, chatting idly. Apparently they've become bridesmaids somehow. Applejack is inspecting the food setup, Pinkie Pie is eyeing the decorations, Rarity is fretting over the dresses.

    And her.

    Princess Mi Amore Cadenza.

    She stands near Shining Armor, the picture of a perfect bride. Smiling. Poised.

    I move to my spot near the back. Just another guest. Just another pony in the background.

    Blending in.

    Waiting.

    Watching.

    Celestia guides them through the motions. "Perfect, girls. No need to rush. Then, of course, Cadance will enter." The Bridal Chorus hums softly through the hall.

    I keep my face neutral, watching but not really present.

    Shining Armor stands tall at the altar, his expression a little dazed, but functional. "I'll say a few words, and then we'll begin with the vows. Shining Armor, you'll get the ring from your best mare."

    Spike, the ever-dramatic little gremlin, lifts the mini shining armor and cadence he's stolen from the cake and mimics in a high-pitched voice, "Do you? I do!" again forcing them to kiss.

    My gaze stays fixed ahead, but my mind is far, far away.

    I could kill Chrysalis.

    Right here. Right now.

    Not even a challenge, honestly. She doesn't know what I can do. She'd never see it coming.

    It would be as simple as launching a projectile before she even realized I had one. Instantaneous. Decisive.

    And yet, I don't.

    I don't, because… well.

    I like shapeshifters.

    In every possible way.

    A whole race of creatures capable of taking whatever form they desire? That's just fascinating. It'd be a shame to wipe them out before I had a chance to really study what they're capable of. And sure, I could justify it with things like not wanting to shatter the timeline or making sure Shining and Cadance have their grand emotional moment, but at the core of it?

    I just think they're neat.

    I keep my expression unreadable as the rehearsal moves forward.

    Shining shifts slightly. "Hey… has anypony seen Twilight?"

    Right on cue.

    The doors slam open.

    "I'm here!" Twilight's voice is sharp, breathless, heavy with conviction. "I'm not gonna stand next to her! And neither should you!"

    I watch, silent, as she storms forward, her frustration radiating off her in waves. There's a distinct, painful kind of helplessness in her posture—like she already knows they won't believe her, but she has to try anyway.

    Shining frowns, confused. "I'm sorry, I… I don't know why she's acting like this."

    Cadance—the thing wearing Cadance's face—keeps her expression smooth. Her voice is light, concerned, dripping with insincerity. "Maybe we should just ignore her."

    I don't react.

    Twilight does.

    "You have to listen to me!"

    Fluttershy, bless her heart, takes a cautious step forward. "Oh, goodness! Are you okay?"

    Twilight waves her off. "I'm fine."

    Applejack, ever the skeptic, squints. "Ya sure about that?"

    Twilight takes a steadying breath, and I can see the moment she doubles down. "I've got something to say! She's evil!"

    The tension in the room spikes instantly.

    The others murmur, concerned. The royal guards glance between themselves.

    I keep my face passive, neither confirming nor denying anything.

    Twilight's voice rises in urgency. "She's been horrible to my friends, she's obviously done something to her bridesmaids, and if that wasn't enough, I saw her put a spell on my brother that made his eyes go all—" She waves her hooves around her head, her eyes bouncing around in her head. "🎵bells jangling🎵!"

    Cadance gasps, eyes welling up immediately. "Why are you doing this to me?!" Her voice trembles, a masterclass in deception. She runs out of the room, twilight teleporting every now and then to catch up.

    Twilight presses forward. "Because you're evil! Evil! And if I don't stop you, you're gonna ruin my brother's life!"

    There it is.

    The breaking point.

    Shining stiffens, his jaw tightening. "You want to know why my eyes went all 🎵bells jangling🎵?" His voice is hard, defensive, like he's been pushed just a little too far. "Because ever since I started having to perform my protection spell, I've been getting terrible migraines. Cadance hasn't been casting spells on me. She's been using her magic to heal me!"

    Twilight flinches, her bravado cracking.

    Shining's words come faster now, like he's desperate to justify, to fix things. "And she decided to replace her bridesmaids because she found out the only reason they wanted to be in the wedding was so that they could meet Canterlot royalty! And if she hasn't been on her best behavior with your friends, it's because with me being so busy, she's had to make all the decisions about the wedding!"

    Twilight's voice is small now. "I was just trying to—"

    Shining doesn't let her finish.

    "She's been completely stressed out because it's really important to her that our big day be perfect, something that obviously wasn't important to you!" He takes a sharp breath, as if realizing the words as they leave him. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go and comfort my bride. And you can forget about being my best mare." He hesitates, his anger settling into something colder. "In fact, if I were you, I wouldn't show up to the wedding at all."

    The silence that follows is suffocating.

    Applejack clears her throat. "C'mon, y'all. Let's go check on the princess."

    Twilight stares after them, her expression crumbling. "I was—"

    Celestia's voice cuts through the air, calm and final. "You have a lot to think about."

    The doors slam shut.

    I glance at Twilight.

    She stands there, shaking slightly, staring at the place where they all just left her. The weight of it all presses down on her at once. The sting of rejection. The suffocating loneliness of being right but having no one believe you.

    I could step forward.

    I could say something.

    I could tell her that she was right. That she wasn't alone. That I know exactly what's going on and that I'm going to fix it.

    But I don't.

    Because I need her to get captured.

    Because I need her to find the real Cadance.

    Because if I go down there first, then Chrysalis loses immediately—and that means Shining Armor and Cadance don't get their moment. They don't have their grand reunion. And without that, without them, there's no emotional surge to blast all the changelings to the Badlands, weeding them all out of Canterlot.

    No guaranteed victory.

    And the best outcome—the one where all the changelings get launched out of Canterlot in one fell swoop—only happens if I do nothing.

    So I leave.

    I wait in my room.

    A few hours pass. Canterlot carries on as if nothing is wrong.

    Because, for now, nothing is.

    Twilight's in the caverns. She's where she needs to be. The real Cadance will be freed soon. And the grand spectacle of the wedding—the real wedding—has to happen exactly as I remember it.

    Worst-case scenario? I start killing changelings one by one, culling them with precise, quiet efficiency until there's none left. It's doable. Messy, but doable.

    But the best outcome?

    I let things play out.

    So when the time finally comes, I head toward the ceremony.

    Before leaving, I give a quiet command. "Rachel. Follow."

    The construct obeys instantly, falling into step behind me. The heavy stone of her body makes a dull thud with each step, her joints moving fluidly despite their rigid structure. She turns heads as we walk, but at this point, I don't care. Let them gawk. Rachel is the only thing here I can trust completely.

    The ceremony is set up exactly as expected—extravagant, bright, a picture-perfect royal wedding.

    Celestia stands at the front, poised and regal as ever. "Mares and gentlecolts, we are gathered here today to witness the union of—"

    She doesn't get to finish.

    Twilight's voice cuts through the air like a blade. "Stop!"

    Gasps ripple through the hall. Murmurs, nervous shifting.

    I don't react.

    I keep my face neutral, even as Chrysalis puts on the performance of a lifetime, faux-sobbing into her hooves. "Why does she have to be so possessive of her brother? Why does she have to ruin my special day?"

    I already know what happens next.

    The real Cadance steps forward, fierce and unbroken. "Because it's not your special day! It's mine!"

    Gasps.

    The fake Cadance—no, Chrysalis—turns sharply, her voice twisting with irritation. "What? But how did you escape my bridesmaids?"

    From somewhere behind them, voices can be heard gushing. "I want it!"

    Chrysalis huffs. "Hmph. Clever. But you're still too late."

    I keep still, standing at the back as the scene unfolds.

    I could end this.

    Right now.

    I could remove the problem, take Chrysalis out before things escalate. Celestia wouldn't even have to fight. There'd be no battle, no laser clash, no risk of collateral damage.

    But that's not the best outcome.

    Because if Cadance and Shining don't have their moment—if they don't win—then the changelings stay. They remain, scattered, hidden, embedded within Canterlot. The city will never be truly purged.

    I shift slightly, watching as Chrysalis monologues, weaving the grand picture of her conquest. "My fellow changelings will be able to devour so much love, we will gain more power than we have ever dreamed of!"

    Cadance stands her ground. "They'll never get the chance! Shining Armor's protection spell will keep them from ever even reaching us!"

    Chrysalis smirks. "Oh, I doubt that. Isn't that right, dear?"

    Shining Armor, still caught in her spell, barely manages a weak "Mm-hmm."

    Twilight and Cadance both gasp.

    Chrysalis gives a mock-pitying look. "He may not be my husband, but he is under my total control now. And I'm sorry to say, unable to perform his duties as Captain of the Royal Guard."

    Cadance's breath hitches. "Not my Shining Armor!"

    Chrysalis lets the moment hang before leaning forward, voice rich with victory. "Soon, my changeling army will break through. First, we take Canterlot. And then, all of Equestria!"

    Celestia finally steps forward, her voice cutting through the tension. "No. You won't."

    And here it is.

    The moment.

    Celestia's horn ignites, golden and radiant. Chrysalis meets her with a beam of her own, twisting, writhing green magic clashing violently against divine sunlight.

    The force shakes the walls.

    And I almost move.

    I could intervene.

    I could end this before Celestia loses.

    But if I do, then what happens next? The changelings would still be here. They'd retreat, regroup, scatter like insects into the cracks of Canterlot's foundation.

    No.

    This has to happen.

    Celestia has to lose.

    Cadance and Shining have to win.

    The world needs to see them rise.

    So I watch, still as stone, as the battle unfolds.

    Celestia falls.

    The golden blast of her magic shatters like glass against Chrysalis' sickly green beam, and the room trembles with the force of her defeat. The impact sends her crown clattering across the floor, the weight of it meaningless without the power to back it.

    "Princess Celestia!" Twilight's cry is raw with panic, the tremor of disbelief thick in her voice.

    Chrysalis straightens, head held high, smug, victorious. "Ah! Shining Armor's love for you is even stronger than I thought! Consuming it has made me even more powerful than Celestia!"

    I exhale quietly through my nose.

    Celestia shifts, trying to rise, but she's already struggling, her breath ragged. "The Elements of Harmony. You must get to them and use their power to defeat the queen."

    Twilight nods, determination overtaking her panic. "Come on, girls!"

    And just like that, the Mane Six rush off, their hooves clattering against the marble floor.

    Chrysalis doesn't even try to stop them.

    Because she knows.

    She knows they won't make it.

    And now, the only ponies left in the grand hall are those who cannot fight back.

    Celestia. Cadance. Shining Armor, still under her spell. The nobles, Rachel, the guests—all wrapped in thick, pulsating layers of changeling goo, struggling against bonds that won't break.

    And me.

    I haven't moved.

    I haven't spoken.

    And that's about to become a problem.

    The changelings, dozens of them, begin encasing the remaining captives in their resinous slime. It comes quickly, their horns flashing with eerie green light as the viscous material slathers itself over struggling ponies.

    I realize, in this moment, that I made a mistake.

    I was fine with this until it involved me.

    As one of the drones turns toward me, its horn igniting, I fire off the illusion— quickly pulling out the chalk dust, condensing the near-invisible fog just around my irises. Shifting just enough to flash my eyes green. A changeling signal.

    I am one of you.

    The drone hesitates for half a second.

    And then its magic charges up again.

    It sees through it.

    Damn.

    I don't let it attack.

    Before its spell can fully form, I grip the particles of chalk dust in the air from the illusion and condense it into a projectile.

    Then I fire.

    It pierces straight through the changeling's skull, the impact almost too clean, leaving a perfectly round hole before the creature collapses in a limp heap.

    Silence.

    The other drones do not move.

    Chrysalis lifts her chin slightly, watching me now with something new in her eyes.

    Interest.

    Curiosity.

    Suspicion.

    The grand hall is deathly silent.

    The only sound is the soft, echoing thud of the changeling drone hitting the marble floor. The green glow fades from its lifeless horn, and the air grows heavier.

    I haven't moved.

    I don't move.

    Chrysalis stares at me now, calculating. She doesn't order the others to attack. She doesn't react with anger or fear. She studies me, eyes sharp, lips curling ever so slightly.

    Amused.

    Interested.

    I exhale through my nose, slow and measured. My voice is quiet, deliberate, yet it carries through the chamber.

    "You don't want to fight me, Chrysalis."

    The queen hums, tapping a hole-ridden hoof against her chin. "Oh? And why is that, little pony?" She spits the word out like venom.

    I smirk, tilting my head just slightly. "You and I… we're not so different, are we?"

    Celestia, still pinned against the floor, breathes sharply. Cadance flinches, her wide, desperate eyes flicking between me and Chrysalis.

    The queen lets out a low chuckle, circling me like a predator appraising prey. "Please. Enlighten me."

    I don't take my eyes off her. "You're a parasite, Chrysalis. You live because others suffer. You take what you need, whether they like it or not. That's just how it is." I pause, letting the weight of my words settle. "And yet, is that so different from any other creature?"

    I glance at Celestia, watching her reaction. Her jaw tightens, but she doesn't speak.

    Cadance looks horrified.

    I continue. "Ponies like to think they're different. That they only take what's freely given. That they consume without cost." I shake my head. "But at the end of the day, they eat. They burn. They cut down forests and carve mountains, all to sustain themselves."

    I take a step forward—just one, controlled. The changelings stiffen slightly, but none of them move to stop me.

    "Tell me, Queen of the Changelings… does the wolf ask permission before it tears into the rabbit? Does the lion feel remorse for the antelope?" I tilt my head. "Do you expect me to?"

    Chrysalis's smirk deepens. She licks her fangs, savoring the words. "And yet, unlike me, you still wear the skin of prey."

    "I wasn't always a pony." My voice is steady, calm.

    That gives her pause.

    Celestia's head snaps toward me. Cadance blinks, stunned.

    Chrysalis studies me more intently now, intrigued. "Lies," she scoffs, but there's hesitation in her tone.

    I shake my head slowly. "You can sense love, can't you? You taste it in the air. The emotions of every being in this room." I spread my hooves slightly, grounding myself. "So tell me, Chrysalis—what do I taste like?"

    The air shifts. The tension coils tighter.

    For the first time, Chrysalis isn't amused.

    She isn't smug.

    She stares at me, her slitted pupils dilating ever so slightly. Her nostrils flare as she breathes in, as she tastes me.

    And something in her expression changes.

    The amusement vanishes. The arrogance drains away.

    For a fraction of a second, I see it.

    A flicker of something raw, something primal.

    Revulsion.

    Doubt.

    Fear.

    "You…" She swallows, her throat bobbing slightly. Her voice drops, quiet and unsteady. "…You're wrong."

    Not incorrect.

    Not mistaken.

    Wrong.

    An anomaly. A distortion. A thing that should not be.

    Her horn ignites in a violent, crackling burst, and before another word can be spoken, she fires.

    A beam of pure, sickly green death lances toward me, faster than a thought.

    But I don't move.

    Because I don't need to.

    The air is already ionized with another concussive boom. The plasma field is already formed. The moment her attack collides with the barrier, it stops. The raw energy is consumed, diffused into the charged particles, scattering harmlessly into the atmosphere.

    Chrysalis flinches back.

    She is staring at me now—not with confidence, not with contempt, but with something far more satisfying.

    Doubt.

    I exhale slowly, letting the moment stretch, letting her feel the weight of her mistake. My voice is quieter now, but it cuts through the silence like a razor.

    "That was unwise."

    Celestia stares, her expression unreadable, golden regality masking whatever thoughts race behind her violet eyes.

    Cadance?

    Her breathing is shallow, her pupils shrunk to tiny pinpricks. She looks at me like she's seeing me for the first time—like I'm something she doesn't understand.

    Something she doesn't want to understand.

    I roll my shoulders slightly, my stance loose, casual. Unbothered.

    I never break eye contact with Chrysalis.

    "I wonder…" I tilt my head. "Have you ever truly known fear, Chrysalis?"

    Her lips twitch. "Do not—"

    I step forward.

    The drones surrounding me shift, reacting instinctively, but she doesn't give the order to attack.

    She won't.

    Not yet.

    I let my voice drop lower, almost thoughtful. "You're used to being the predator, aren't you? The wolf among sheep. The one with all the power."

    A pause.

    Then I smile—just enough to be unsettling.

    "You don't feel like the wolf right now, do you?"

    Her jaw tightens.

    I let my gaze flicker to the drones at her sides, their wings twitching, their posture uncertain. They don't understand why she hesitates.

    Why she hasn't ordered them to kill me already.

    So I tell them.

    "You're afraid."

    I let the words sink in. Let them fester.

    Let her feel it.

    I breathe in, slow and deep, my eyes never leaving hers.

    "I can taste it."

    Chrysalis stiffens.

    The words ripple through the hall, slithering into the silence, twisting around the fear that is thick in the air.

    She doesn't like that.

    Her wings twitch. Her hooves shift slightly, weight redistributing like a cornered animal deciding whether to fight or flee.

    Her voice wavers, just barely. "W-We have you surrounded."

    I let the moment stretch. Let the tension coil tighter.

    Then, I exhale softly and shake my head.

    "No."

    A beat.

    Then my voice drops, quiet and absolute.

    "All I am surrounded by… is fear."

    I lift my eyes to hers. Lock my gaze. Let the words settle.

    "And dead changelings."

    The drones shudder. They don't move. They don't speak.

    They don't know if I'm bluffing.

    Neither does she.

    Because even I don't know what I'm doing anymore.

    I have no moves.

    No real options.

    I can end her. Easily.

    But barring that?

    I've got nothing.

    I just have to keep talking.

    Keep stalling.

    She's watching me too closely to notice Cadance's bonds loosening.

    She doesn't see the silent pull of my telekinesis, unraveling the changeling resin layer by layer, so subtly that even Cadance herself doesn't know it's happening.

    I don't look at her.

    I don't acknowledge her.

    I just keep talking.

    "I could take this city, you know."

    Chrysalis blinks. "What?"

    I let my smirk widen.

    "I will take this city."

    She recoils slightly, her fangs parting, confused.

    I shrug, casual. "You've already done all the work for me. You've cut off the city's defenses, weakened its strongest fighters, eliminated resistance before it could even begin. You've made it so easy."

    I let my voice drop, let my words weave into her mind. "And all that's left now… is for someone stronger to take it from you."

    Her wings flare, panic creeping into her expression. "Lies."

    I take another step forward, slow and controlled.

    "Why not?" My voice is light, almost teasing. "Wouldn't it be poetic? That after all your planning, all your scheming, you didn't conquer Canterlot… you delivered it?"

    Her breath quickens. I can hear it now. I can see it.

    She's unraveling.

    I can feel Celestia's gaze boring into me. Feel Cadance inching away, freed and unnoticed, making her way toward Shining Armor in slow, quiet movements.

    Everything is working.

    I have her.

    I just need to keep going.

    I let my smile sharpen.

    "And you, Chrysalis… you will be my queen."

    A sharp inhale.

    Celestia's eyes narrow.

    Cadance stops moving.

    Chrysalis' breath hitches, her wings flicking with uncertainty.

    I tilt my head slightly, eyes glinting. "Not as a partner. Not as an ally. As a prize."

    Chrysalis' horn sparks. "You're mad."

    "Am I?"

    I chuckle softly. Let the sound echo.

    "Everything is already in place. You just don't realize it yet."

    And for a moment—just one, beautiful moment—Chrysalis believes me.

    I can see it in her eyes.

    She doesn't know what I am.

    She doesn't know what I'm capable of.

    She thinks I'm a monster. A rival. A threat.

    And she doesn't know what move to make.

    Which means I've won.

    I don't move.

    I don't blink.

    And then—

    "Enough!"

    The word shatters the silence.

    But it isn't Chrysalis who speaks.

    It's Cadance.

    And for the first time, I relax.

    I don't react immediately. I don't even process it at first. Because in my mind, she's talking to Chrysalis, telling her to stop, telling her that it's over.

    But when I glance over, she isn't looking at Chrysalis.

    She's looking at me.

    Clinging to Shining Armor, her wings trembling, her eyes wide with something raw and unfiltered.

    Fear.

    Not of her.

    Of me.

    "You're a monster."

    The words hit harder than any spell.

    I don't understand.

    My thoughts grind to a halt, stuck in place, my mind rejecting the implication.

    She doesn't mean that. She can't mean that.

    I was helping. I was stalling. I was keeping Chrysalis off balance, making sure Cadance could free Shining, ensuring the best outcome.

    And yet—

    I realize something I should have thought about earlier.

    I've never met these ponies.

    Not really.

    Not outside of this fight.

    They don't know me.

    They've never seen the way I act around Celestia. They've never watched me banter with Luna. They weren't there when I helped the element bearers, time and time again.

    They only saw this.

    A cold, calculating force. A creature standing toe-to-toe with a tyrant, speaking in the language of monsters, weaving a battle of dominance with nothing but words.

    Cadance doesn't see an ally.

    She sees another threat.

    A bigger threat.

    I turn to Celestia, some part of me desperate for recognition, for a lifeline, for something.

    And for the first time in my life, Celestia looks shocked.

    I see her inhale sharply, see the moment the pieces click into place in her mind, see the flash of understanding behind her eyes.

    She opens her mouth—

    "No, wait—"

    But she's too late.

    Shining Armor's eyes glow with raw magic, his horn sparking as Cadance feeds her power into his.

    The force erupts.

    A tsunami of pure, blinding energy, crashing outward, unstoppable.

    I barely have time to think before it hits me.

    The last thing I feel is the force tearing through me, the overwhelming weight of it, the sheer power behind it.

    The last thing I hear is my own heartbeat, thundering in my ears.

    And the last thing I see—

    Is Celestia, reaching out.

    A second too late.

    And then—

    Darkness.
     
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