I wake up to the warm light of dawn filtering through the curtains of the master bedroom. For a moment, I lie still, letting the comfort of the bed lull me into staying put. But the quiet buzz of thoughts about the Archmage Test, the experiments, and everything else pulls me up. Four days until I have to go to Canterlot.
With a reluctant groan, I roll out of bed, stretch, and head toward the kitchen. After a quick breakfast of stale bread and water—I still haven't restocked properly—I grab my chalk pouch and bit bag and head out the door. The air is crisp, and the early morning light casts long shadows across the cobbled streets of Ponyville.
As I walk toward Town Hall, something catches my eye—a small wooden box perched on a post just outside my house. A mailbox. I hadn't noticed it before, and now I feel vaguely embarrassed. How long has it been sitting there?
Curious, I step over and flip open the lid. Inside is a small stack of letters, neatly arranged. Most of them look like the usual boring correspondence: a flyer for some kind of farmers' market, and a couple of envelopes addressed to "The Town Mage." I sort through them quickly, pausing when I reach an ornate envelope sealed with a golden emblem.
My stomach twists as I break the seal and pull out the letter inside. The paper is thick, the kind of stationary that radiates importance. Along with the letter are two golden tickets that catch the morning light, glinting in a way that makes my heart sink before I even read the message.
Dear Kinetic Flux,
It is my pleasure to inform you that you have been invited to this year's Grand Galloping Gala as a guest of honor. The Gala is an opportunity to celebrate unity and achievement, and your contributions to Ponyville and Equestria make you a deserving participant.
Enclosed are two tickets for the event. Your presence is not only welcomed but expected, as I believe you will find the evening both enriching and memorable. Please do not hesitate to bring a companion of your choosing.
I look forward to seeing you there.
Warm regards,
Princess Celestia
My eyes linger on the wordexpected. Of course. This isn't really an invitation—it's a royal decree dressed up as politeness. As if I don't already have enough on my plate with the Archmage Test.
I let out a long sigh, glaring at the tickets as if they're personally responsible for my predicament. "Enriching and memorable, huh? Sure."
Stuffing the tickets and letter into my bit bag, I close the mailbox with a snap and continue toward Town Hall. The quiet streets of Ponyville offer a brief reprieve from the weight of the letter, but the thought of dressing up and mingling with Canterlot's elite gnaws at the back of my mind.
"Great," I mutter under my breath. "Just great. More politics and pomp. Just what I needed."
The day has barely started, and I'm already dreading it.
As I make my way toward my office, the morning air is filled with the soft hum of Ponyville life. Ponies chatter, carts creak, and the occasional bird chirps overhead. It's almost peaceful—until I hear a voice that stops me in my tracks.
"Darling, I simply can't stop thinking about him," Rarity says, her voice carrying with its usual dramatic flair. I glance to the side and spot the Mane 6 seated outside at a café, enjoying an early lunch. I'm close enough to hear them, but they haven't noticed me yet.
"Who?" Rainbow Dash asks, her tone already teasing.
"Kinetic Flux, of course," Rarity replies, sighing wistfully. "He's just so… mysterious. That rugged demeanor, the way he vanishes so quickly. It's like he's running from something."
My stomach twists. Oh no. This can't be happening.
"Rarity, really?" Twilight asks, her voice skeptical. "He's interesting, sure, but he doesn't exactly strike me as the… romantic type."
"Oh, nonsense, Twilight," Rarity chimes. "That only makes him more intriguing! He's clearly a stallion of great depth, not to mention his magical aptitude. You yourself said his theories made you question your own aptness, didn't you?"
Twilight hesitates, her expression shifting slightly. "Well… yes, his approach is unique, but that doesn't mean—"
"He is pretty cool," Rainbow Dash interrupts, shrugging. "I mean, he took on Nightmare Moon, didn't he?"
"And made that sun thingy for the festival!" Pinkie Pie adds, bouncing slightly in her seat. But then her tone shifts, losing some of its usual cheer. "But… he doesn't seem very happy, does he? He fake-laughs a lot, like he's trying too hard."
I feel a flicker of irritation. How does she notice stuff like that so easily? Is she keeping tabs on me? How much does she really know?
"Oh, poor dear," Rarity says, her voice softening. "Living all alone in that dreadful little shack. It breaks my heart. Honestly, I'd love to scoop him up and take him home. Show him what true care and comfort look like."
The thought sends a shiver down my spine.Absolutely not.
The thought of Rarity—or any of them—thinking they could "fix" me by meddling in my life makes my skin crawl. And how does she even know where I live? I barely know where I live. My mailbox was a discovery for me just this morning.
"You think he'd go for that?" Rainbow Dash asks, grinning. "I mean, the guy's slippery. Every time we try to talk to him, he's gone before we can ask anything."
"I think he's just busy," Twilight says, though she doesn't sound convinced.
"I dunno," Applejack chimes in. "Somethin' about him seems… skittish. Like he's carryin' more than he lets on."
Fluttershy stays silent, her eyes downcast, but the others nod in agreement. I feel my stomach churn, a mix of irritation and unease bubbling up. It's bad enough that Rarity seems infatuated, but now the whole group is analyzing me like I'm some kind of puzzle to solve.
And then Rarity says the words that make my blood run cold. "Speaking of him, I simply must take Sweetie Belle to her magic practice with him this afternoon. She's been chattering non-stop about it since the last session."
That's my cue. Without waiting to hear more, I turn and dash toward my office. If Rarity is planning to show up with Sweetie Belle, I need to get there first. The last thing I want is another awkward encounter—or worse, to give her more reasons to swoon over me.
I reach my office, grateful for the solitude and the chance to regroup. The morning sunlight filters through the window, casting soft shadows on the walls. I have some time before Rarity and Sweetie Belle arrive, so I sit at my desk, the faint hum of the town outside serving as background noise.
The Archmage examination looms in my mind like an immovable obstacle. Now that I've figured out how to bypass physical barriers, I have to face the opposite challenge: bridging gaps or heights. If the test involves getting to a point that's visible but completely inaccessible—say, at the top of a sheer cliff or across a chasm—I need a solution.
My first thought is simple: Why not just lift myself with telekinesis?
I stand and focus, channeling my magic to envelop my body. The glow surrounds me, and I feel the familiar hum of energy. I push upward, expecting the satisfying sensation of lifting off the ground.
Instead, my magic fizzles out abruptly, like a candle snuffed by an unseen wind. I stumble slightly, the effort leaving a faint ache in my horn. Confused, I try again, but the result is the same. The magic wraps around me, starts to lift—and then collapses, as though the energy is being pulled away.
"Great," I mutter, slumping back into my chair. No self-levitation. Figures.
I lean back, running a hoof through my mane. The self-levitation idea had been a long shot, but its failure leaves me without a clear path forward. It seems magic has some kind of inherent interference when applied directly to living beings—like trying to use a magnet on another magnet with the same polarity. The more I think about it, the more it frustrates me.
I don't have time to dwell on it. A sharp knock at the door pulls me from my thoughts, followed immediately by the sound of the door creaking open.
"Mr. Flux!" Sweetie Belle's cheerful voice rings out as she trots into the room, her horn glowing faintly. Rarity follows behind her, her expression as radiant as ever.
"Hello, darling," Rarity chimes, her voice dripping with enthusiasm. "I hope we're not intruding."
I stand quickly, smoothing my mane and forcing a smile. "Not at all. Perfect timing, actually."
Sweetie Belle beams at me and says, "Look what I figured out!" Her horn flares briefly grabbing some chalk from a bag she tied to her neck, and a small illusion materializes in front of her—a tiny, shimmering version of me. It's surprisingly accurate, with my tan coat, blonde mane, and even a faint glow around the illusion's horn.
Rarity claps her hooves together, her eyes sparkling with pride. "Isn't it marvelous? My little Sweetie is an absolute prodigy!"
I stare at the illusion, my mind racing. I'd only just started teaching her the basics of the Doppler illusion—vibrating chalk with levitation to manipulate light—and she's already managed this? It's rough around the edges, sure, but the fact that she grasped the concept and applied it on her own is impressive. I force a grin. "Wow, Sweetie. That's… really something."
"I practiced a lot while you were gone," she says, her voice brimming with pride. "I wanted to show you I could do it!"
Rarity sighs dramatically, leaning slightly toward me. "You're such an incredible teacher, Kinetic. Truly. I don't know how you manage to teach her so quickly. Most tutors couldn't get Sweetie to sit still, let alone master illusions."
I cough, stepping back subtly. "Well, she's a quick learner. Credit goes to her, really."
Rarity's smile widens, and she opens her mouth to speak, but I cut her off with a hurried, "Why don't we get started on today's lesson? Sweetie, let's see what else you've got."
Rarity looks momentarily disappointed but allows herself to be ushered toward the door. "I'll be back to pick her up later. Don't work her too hard, now."
As soon as the door closes, I turn back to Sweetie, still a bit thrown by her progress. I'd planned to have her continue working on the Doppler illusion, but now I need a new plan. Something more challenging, but still within her reach.
"Alright," I say, pacing slightly as I think. "Today, we're going to take a different approach. Instead of me showing you the solution, we're going to work through the process of creating a spell from scratch."
Her eyes widen. "From scratch? Like… make my own spell?"
"Somewhat," I say, nodding. "Magic, especially the kind I use, isn't just about memorizing chants or copying patterns. It's about understanding the problem and figuring out how to solve it. So let's start with this: if you needed to cross a gap too wide to jump, but magic is your only tool, what would you do?"
Sweetie Belle tilts her head, her expression thoughtful. "A gap? Like a really big one?"
"Exactly," I reply. "Imagine there's no bridge, no way around, and you can't fly. How would you use magic to get across?"
She furrows her brow, tapping her chin with a hoof. "Hmm… I could use my horn to lift myself?"
I shake my head. "Good idea, but it doesn't work. Trust me, I've tried. Magic has trouble affecting living things like that. Think about the gap itself. How could you change it or work around it?"
Sweetie's face scrunches as she thinks. "Maybe… make something to stand on? Like a floating platform?"
"Not bad," I say, nodding. "What would you use for the platform?"
She hesitates, glancing around the room. "Um… rocks? Or maybe the ground?"
"Good thinking," I say with a nod. "Let's go outside and try it. Sometimes, hands-on—or, uh, hooves-on—is the best way to figure these things out."
Sweetie Belle's face lights up with excitement, and she trots eagerly behind me as we make our way out of the office and around the back of Town Hall. The area is clear and flat, with a few sparse patches of grass and dirt. There are no loose rocks or anything particularly useful lying around, but that's part of the challenge.
Sweetie glances around, her enthusiasm dimming slightly as she notices the lack of materials. "Um… there's nothing here to use."
"Exactly," I say, gesturing toward the ground. "You've got to work with what you've got. Can you figure out a way to make something solid enough to stand on?"
She frowns in concentration, her horn lighting up as she directs her magic at the dirt. A patch of ground begins to shimmer faintly, vibrating as she tries to shape it. Slowly, it rises, forming a crude platform about the size of a dinner plate.
"There!" she says, stepping toward it. "That should work, right?"
"Try standing on it," I suggest, folding my hooves and watching closely.
Sweetie places a hoof on the platform, but it sinks immediately, scattering into loose dirt. She frowns, scrunching her nose. "It's like sand! Why didn't it hold?"
"Good question," I reply, prompting her to think. "What do you think went wrong?"
She stares at the platform—or what's left of it—her brow furrowed. "Maybe… I didn't make it strong enough?"
"Could be," I say. "What's making it collapse? Is it the magic, or something else?"
Sweetie hesitates, glancing back at me. "The dirt isn't sticking together… like it's too loose."
"Exactly," I say, nodding. "Materials like dirt or sand don't naturally hold their shape unless they're compacted or bound together somehow. That's because their particles are held together primarily by weak intermolecular forces, like van der Waals forces, and sometimes by electrostatic interactions if there's moisture involved. These forces alone aren't strong enough to support a large structure unless the material is compacted to reduce gaps or combined with something adhesive to create bonds between particles."
Sweetie tilts her head. "So... how would I fix that?"
"Well," I say, "if you're using telekinesis, you could theoretically manipulate those forces directly. On a microscopic level, you'd have to exert enough precise pressure to push the particles together, compressing them until friction and contact forces provide structural integrity. Alternatively, you could create artificial bonds by 'gluing' the particles together with magical energy that mimics the effect of cement or another binder. Imagine using your magic to form tiny molecular connections between the grains, like ionic or covalent bonds."
Her ears perk up slightly, eyes wide. "Covalent bonds? That sounds advanced."
"It is," I say with a chuckle. "But think about it: covalent bonds happen when atoms share electrons to create a stable connection. If your telekinesis can manipulate particles at the atomic level, you could simulate that by forcing atoms to share electrons where they wouldn't normally. It's the same principle that makes solid materials like rocks hold together."
Sweetie frowns thoughtfully. "So… to make a dirt platform, I'd either squish it super tight or weave magic between the particles to hold them together?"
"Exactly," I say, grinning. "And if you want something even stronger, you could try forming crystalline structures, like quartz or diamond. That would take even more precision, though. For now, just focus on compressing and binding it enough to hold its shape."
Sweetie tilts her head, her horn glowing faintly as she tries again. This time, the platform is smaller, and she focuses on compressing the dirt as tightly as she can. She steps on it carefully, and while it doesn't collapse entirely, it still shifts under her weight.
"It's better," she says, her voice tinged with disappointment, "but it's still not good enough."
"That's because a big platform like this takes a lot of energy," I explain. "You're doing great, but magic doesn't just make problems disappear. It works best when you understand the materials and physics behind what you're doing."
Sweetie Belle sighs, sitting back on her haunches. "So how do I make it better?"
I watch her closely, seeing the gears turning in her head, but I decide to give her a nudge in the right direction. "Here's a question for you, Sweetie. Do you really need a platform that big?"
She blinks, tilting her head. "What do you mean? I need something to stand on, right?"
"Sure, but think about this: the bigger the platform, the more energy it takes to make it solid and hold it up," I explain. "What if, instead of making one big platform, you made four smaller ones? Just big enough for your hooves."
Her eyes widen. "Four? But that's, like, four times the work!"
"Not exactly," I say with a small smile. "Remember the Doppler illusion? You already learned how to split your focus to make multiple vibrating patterns at once. This is just another kind of multitasking. Not more energy, just more focus."
Sweetie Belle looks thoughtful, her ears twitching as she considers the idea. "So… I could make little disks for each hoof instead of one big platform?"
"Exactly," I say, nodding. "It's like walking across stepping stones instead of trying to stand on one big raft. Each disk is only a fraction of the size, thus a fraction of the energy. Plus, you'll get practice balancing and coordinating at the same time."
She bites her lip, clearly still a bit unsure, but I can see the determination in her eyes. "Okay," she says finally. "I'll try it."
I step back, giving her plenty of space as she focuses her magic. Her horn glows brightly, and the dirt beneath her hooves starts to shimmer and shift. Slowly, four small disks of compacted dirt begin to form, each one about the size of a dinner plate. They hover just above the ground, held aloft by her magic.
Sweetie takes a cautious step onto one of the disks, her hoof settling on the compacted surface. It holds. She smiles hesitantly, then steps onto the next disk, her magic adjusting to keep the others steady. By the time she's standing on all four disks, her face lights up with pride.
"I did it!" she exclaims, her voice brimming with excitement.
"You sure did," I say, smiling despite myself. "How does it feel?"
"It's a little wobbly," she admits, shifting her weight to keep her balance. "But it's working! I'm not sinking!"
"That's because you're managing the disks well," I say. "It's not easy to keep all four stable, but you're doing great. Now, try walking."
Sweetie hesitates, but after a moment, she carefully shifts one disk forward, stepping on to the air before moving the next. The movement is slow and deliberate, but it works. She makes it about ten steps before the glow of her horn starts to flicker, and the disks collapse into the dirt.
"Phew," she says, plopping onto the ground and wiping her brow. "That was harder than I thought."
"It's not easy," I agree, "but you did an amazing job. You figured out the problem, came up with a solution, and made it work. That's what magic is all about."
Her smile is radiant, and for a moment, I feel a twinge of pride. Teaching Sweetie Belle might not be what I planned, but seeing her progress like this makes it worth it.
I watch Sweetie Belle's glowing smile, an idea forming in the back of my mind. Her little experiment worked, and while it was far from perfect, it gave me something new to try. I step forward, brushing off the dirt from my hooves as I ignite my horn.
"Not bad," I say casually, as if her accomplishment didn't just inspire me. "Let me show you how it's done."
Sweetie tilts her head, curiosity sparkling in her eyes. "You're gonna try it?"
"Of course," I reply, channeling magic into the dirt below my hooves. "I've… uh… done something like this before."
Her eyes widen slightly, and I suppress a smirk. Keeping up the 'wise sage' act never gets old.
I focus on the dirt, compressing it into small, sturdy disks beneath each hoof. It's a bit tricky to balance, but as I lift my front hooves, the dirt disks stick like makeshift shoes, moving with me. I take a cautious step forward, then another, feeling the strange sensation of walking on air.
The balance is delicate, but it's surprisingly easy to maintain once I get the hang of it. The magic draw is minimal—far less taxing than displacing an entire section of wall or trying to lift a larger platform. I lift my hind hooves, stepping upward into the air. The disks hold firmly, and I manage to walk a few steps into the sky before an idea strikes me.
What if I didn't have to step?
I shift my weight forward slightly, angling my hooves downward. The disks slide under me, almost as if I'm skating. The motion is fluid, effortless, and for a brief moment, I'm gliding through the air with only the faint hum of magic as a reminder of how ridiculous this is.
"Well," I say, letting my hooves touch the ground again, "it works. Not bad for an old trick."
Sweetie Belle stares at me, her jaw practically on the floor. "That was amazing! You didn't even step—you just… glided!"
I wave a hoof dismissively, hiding the fact that I'm mentally filing away this "trick" for later use. "It's all about efficiency. Less energy, more results."
She beams, her tail swishing excitedly. "What's it called?"
I hesitate, realizing I hadn't thought that far ahead. "Uh…"
Sweetie Belle bounces slightly, practically vibrating with excitement. "Can I name it?"
I nod, suppressing a grin. "Sure, go ahead."
Her eyes light up as she ponders for a moment, then declares proudly, "The Lift Disk spell! It's like you're lifting yourself with disks of magic!"
"Lift Disk," I repeat, as if testing the name. "Not bad. It fits."
Sweetie beams, clearly thrilled that I let her name the spell. I step down from my hovering position and dust off my hooves, hiding the faint ache in my horn from the experimentation.
"Alright," I say, gesturing for her to follow. "Let's head back inside. You've earned a break."
As we walk back toward my office, Sweetie chatters excitedly about how she's going to practice the Lift Disk spell, her enthusiasm contagious despite my lingering exhaustion. I can't help but smile, even as I mentally catalog the possibilities this "spell" might open up for me in the future.
As we approach the office door, I glance down at Sweetie Belle, her expression beaming with excitement. I can already see her mind racing with ideas for how she's going to use theLift Diskspell. Her enthusiasm is contagious, but it also makes me nervous. She's young, eager, and probably not thinking about the dangers.
"Alright, Sweetie," I say, my tone firm but gentle. "Before you go practicing this all over town, there are a few things you need to remember."
She stops mid-bounce, her ears perking up. "What is it?"
"First," I say, gesturing toward the ground, "don't go too high. Keep yourself close to the ground, no more than a pony's height. If something goes wrong—if you lose focus or the disks give out—you don't want to fall from too far up."
Her excitement dims slightly, and she nods, looking thoughtful. "Okay… no higher than this," she says, holding a hoof just above her head.
"Good," I say, pushing the door open and stepping inside. Sweetie follows me, and I set my chalk pouch and bit bag on the desk before turning to face her again.
"Second," I continue, "don't go too fast. There's this thing called air friction. When you're moving through the air, the faster you go, the more the air pushes back against you. If you try to go too fast, it'll be harder to control the disks, and you could lose your balance."
Sweetie tilts her head. "Air friction? Like… when the wind blows in your face?"
"Exactly," I say, glad she's catching on. "The faster you move, the stronger that force becomes."
Her brow furrows. "But Rainbow Dash goes super fast all the time, and she's fine."
I sigh, rubbing the back of my neck. "Yeah, about that… Pegasi are weird. They've got their own kind of magic that lets them do things like that. It's not just about wings—it's something deeper. Like, they can control weather, walk on clouds, and apparently ignore most of the rules of aerodynamics."
Sweetie's eyes widen. "So… it's their magic?"
"Yeah," I say, acting like it's a fact I've known forever. "But we're not pegasi, so we don't get to play by those rules. You've got to be extra careful when you're using the Lift Disk spell."
She nods, looking more serious now. "Okay. No going too fast."
"Good," I say, feeling a little relieved. "And one more thing—momentum."
"Momentum?" she echoes, tilting her head again.
"Yeah. It's the thing that makes objects keep moving once they start. If you're gliding along and you suddenly try to stop, all that momentum has to go somewhere. It could throw you off balance or make you crash into something."
Sweetie winces, clearly imagining the potential mishaps. "Oh. That sounds… bad."
"It is," I say. "So when you're practicing, make sure to slow down gradually. Don't try to stop all at once."
She nods earnestly. "Got it. No sudden stops."
"Good," I say with a small smile. "You're getting the hang of this."
Sweetie grins, her tail swishing. "Thanks, Mr. Flux! I'm gonna be so careful."
"You'd better be," I say, though my tone is light. "Because if I find out you've been zipping around town like Rainbow Dash, I'll—" I pause, thinking, "—make you write out all the equations for air friction and momentum by hoof."
She giggles. "Okay, okay! I promise!"
After a brief break to let Sweetie Belle's enthusiasm simmer down and give myself a moment to breathe, we head back outside to practice theLift Diskspell. The morning sun has shifted slightly, casting long shadows across the grassy area behind Town Hall. Sweetie's practically bouncing as we set up, her horn already glowing faintly in anticipation.
"Alright," I say, standing a few paces away from her. "Let's try it again. This time, focus on keeping the disks steady and balanced under each hoof. Don't rush it—just one hoof at a time until you've got all four working."
"Got it!" she chirps, her tail swishing excitedly.
Sweetie lights her horn, and four small disks form beneath her hooves, glowing faintly as they shimmer in the air. She steps onto them gingerly, her tongue sticking out slightly in concentration. The disks wobble at first, but she steadies herself, managing to lift off the ground by about half a hoof's height.
"Yes!" she exclaims, beaming as she hovers in place. "I did it!"
"Great job," I say, nodding approvingly. "Now, try moving forward—slowly. Remember what we talked about: air friction and momentum. Keep it smooth."
She nods, focusing intently as she shifts her weight. The disks glide forward, and Sweetie moves along with them, a huge grin on her face. "This is so fun!"
"Careful," I remind her, keeping a close watch. "It's not a race. Just keep practicing control."
She glides a little farther, making small adjustments to the disks to stay balanced. After a few successful passes, she stops and hops off, the disks dissipating as she lands. "This is so cool!" she says, bouncing in place. "I can't wait to show the Crusaders!"
I raise an eyebrow. "The Crusaders?"
Sweetie freezes mid-bounce, her cheeks turning pink. "Oh, um… yeah. You know, Apple Bloom and Scootaloo. My friends."
"I know who they are," I say, crossing my hooves. "What are you planning?"
She glances away, her ears flattening slightly. "Well… we were talking about how we could try something new to get our cutie marks, and I thought… maybe I could makeLift Disksfor all three of us, and we could try flying together?"
I blink, trying to process the sheer chaos that would result from that plan. "You want to put all three of you in the air at once?"
Sweetie nods sheepishly. "It'd be fun! And maybe we'd get our cutie marks in… I don't know, flying magic or something?"
I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose with a hoof. "Sweetie, I admire your enthusiasm, but do you realize how dangerous that sounds? You're barely able to control the disks for yourself, let alone for two other ponies. What happens if one of them panics? Or if the disks fail?"
Her ears droop further, and she looks down at the ground. "I just… thought it'd be cool to do something together."
I soften my tone, crouching slightly to meet her eye level. "I get it. You want to share something amazing with your friends. But magic like this takes practice. A lot of practice. If you want to get your cutie marks, you should work on something all of you can do safely."
She hesitates, then nods slowly. "Okay. I won't do it. Not yet, at least."
"Good," I say, standing back up. "Because the last thing I need is to explain to your sister why all three of you crashed into a tree."
Sweetie giggles at the thought, her mood lightening. "Yeah, she'd be so mad."
"Mad doesn't even begin to cover it," I mutter, shaking my head. "Now, let's get back to practicing. You're doing great so far, but I want to make sure you've really got this before we call it a day."
Sweetie grins, her confidence returning. "Alright! Let's do it!"
The afternoon sun is high in the sky by the time Sweetie Belle really starts getting the hang of theLift Diskspell. She zips around in short, careful bursts, her hooves perched on the glowing disks as they glide smoothly above the ground. Her control isn't perfect—occasionally, a disk wobbles or fades out, but she quickly adjusts and recovers. Watching her progress is oddly satisfying, even if I have to keep my nerves in check every time she wobbles a little too much.
"Alright," I say after her latest successful loop around the practice area. "Let's call it a day. You've made a lot of progress, but you don't want to overdo it."
"Aww," Sweetie pouts, hopping off her disks and letting them fade away. "I was just getting good at it!"
"You're doing great," I say with a smile, genuinely impressed. "But magic like this can tire you out faster than you think. Take it slow, and you'll get even better."
Sweetie grins, clearly proud of herself. "Thanks, Mr. Flux! This was the best lesson ever!"
Before I can respond, a familiar voice calls out from behind us. "Sweetie Belle! What in Equestria were you doing?"
Rarity strides toward us, her eyes wide as she takes in the scene. "Were you… flying?"
"Uh-huh!" Sweetie chirps, running up to her sister. "It's called theLift Diskspell! Mr. Flux taught me!"
Rarity's jaw drops, and she looks between Sweetie and me with an expression of disbelief. "Lift Disk? I've never heard of such a spell!"
"Well," I say, scratching the back of my head and forcing a nonchalant tone, "it's a bit of a… rare spell. Sweetie here 'reinvented' it during our lessons. Very impressive, really."
Sweetie nods enthusiastically. "He already knew it, but I made it work all on my own!"
Rarity's astonishment quickly shifts into excitement. "Darling, this is incredible! You're teaching her things I didn't even know existed!" She turns to me, her eyes sparkling. "You're truly remarkable, Mr. Flux."
"It's nothing," I say quickly, waving a hoof. "Sweetie's a natural. She deserves the credit."
"Oh, nonsense," Rarity says, stepping closer, her tone dripping with admiration. "You've clearly unlocked her potential in a way no other tutor has. Your methods are so… unique."
Her tone takes on a familiar, overly sweet lilt, and I immediately feel the warning bells in my head go off. "You know," she says, her voice dropping slightly, "I could certainly use a private tutor myself. Magic isn't my forte, but perhaps with the right instructor…"
I cut her off with a quick laugh, hoping to steer the conversation away from wherever she's headed. "I think you're doing just fine without magic, Rarity. Besides, I've got my hooves full preparing for the Archmage Examination."
"Oh, but surely a pony of your talents could spare a little time," she persists, taking another step closer. "It doesn't have to be strictly magical instruction. I'm sure we could…collaborateon something."
The emphasis on the word "collaborate" makes my skin crawl. I glance at Sweetie Belle, who's too busy inspecting the ground for chalk dust to notice the subtext, and force a polite but firm smile. "I appreciate the offer, but I've really got to focus on the exam. Celestia's expectations are… demanding."
Rarity pouts slightly but seems to take the hint. "Very well, Mr. Flux. But do keep me in mind, won't you? Talents like yours shouldn't go to waste."
"I'll… think about it," I say, knowing full well that I won't.
Sweetie Belle tugs at Rarity's foreleg. "Can we go now, Rarity? I want to tell Apple Bloom and Scootaloo about the spell!"
"Yes, of course, darling," Rarity says with a sigh, her eyes lingering on me for just a moment longer. "Do be careful, though. Magic can be so unpredictable."
As soon as Rarity and Sweetie Belle are out of sight, I let out a long breath and head in to town, after eating and loitering a bit, I head back to my not-so-ordinary shed. Stepping inside, the familiar vastness greets me—high ceilings, endless hallways, and that faint hum of magic in the air. I make my way to the master bedroom, the soft glow of the floating orbs lighting my path.
I'm done for the day. I don't care about Celestia's examination, Sweetie Belle's spells, or Rarity's relentless flirtation. All I want is to collapse into bed, close my eyes, and pretend I'm anywhere else. Preferably somewhere without talking pastel horses.
I twist the spigot in the corner, the metallic creak followed by a stream of water splashing into a nearby basin. Splashing some onto my face, I shake off the day's lingering tension and crawl onto the bed. The mattress is absurdly soft, a strange luxury in a place so steeped in weirdness. For a moment, it's just me and the quiet, and I feel myself drifting off.
Then, a sharp knock echoes through the house.
I groan and bury my face in the pillow, hoping whoever it is will just go away. But the knock comes again, louder this time. Whoever it is, they're not giving up.
Dragging myself out of bed, I shuffle toward the door. "Who in Equestria knocks on a shed at this hour?" I mutter.
When I open the door, there's Twilight Sparkle, her eyes bright with curiosity and something bordering on manic energy. "Kinetic!" she says, brushing past me before I can say anything. "We need to talk."
I rub a hoof over my face, already regretting answering the door. "Couldn't this wait until tomorrow? I was just about to—"
"No, it can't," she cuts in, spinning to face me with that determined gleam in her eye that always spells trouble. "That Lift Disk spell Sweetie Belle was using… It doesn't match any known magical framework. I've been researching all evening, and I can't find anything remotely similar."
"It's just a basic application of telekinesis," I say, keeping my voice as casual as possible. "Nothing groundbreaking."
"Basic? Basic?!" she sputters, her nostrils flaring slightly. "Are you serious? That spell requires an immense level of control, precision, and an understanding of material cohesion! That'snotbasic telekinesis!"
I sigh, leaning against the doorframe. "It's not as complicated as you think, Twilight. Sweetie figured it out after one lesson. She's got the talent—you're overthinking this."
Twilight narrows her eyes, her gaze darting around the room. "And this house! How are you living in a dimensional anomaly? This place violates every known law of thaumic and spatial theory!"
"It was like this when I got it," I say with a shrug. "Probably some ancient enchantment. I don't mess with it."
"You'relivingin it!" Twilight shouts, gesturing wildly at the endless corridors. "How can you not be curious about how it works? Aren't you the least bit concerned about the potential dangers of unstable pocket dimentions?"
"Not really," I say. "It hasn't exploded yet."
Twilight glares at me, her mane starting to frizz at the edges. "You're unbelievable! You're sitting on groundbreaking magical discoveries, and you're just… brushing them off like they're nothing!"
"Because they're not my discoveries," I say firmly. "The house was here before me, and the Lift Disk is just a clever trick with telekinesis. That's all. No deep magic, no ancient secrets. Just physics."
Twilight freezes. "Physics?" she echoes, her head tilting slightly. "What's physics?"
Oops.
"Oh, uh… I meant telekinesis," I say quickly. "Just telekinesis. Basic stuff."
Her expression sharpens. "No, you didn't. You said 'physics.' That means something, doesn't it? Something you're not telling me."
I wave a hoof dismissively, trying to look nonchalant. "It's just a word. Forget I said it."
Twilight doesn't move, her eyes narrowing like a hawk zeroing in on its prey. "No, I don't think I will. You're deflecting. Again. This isn't just telekinesis—telekinesis can't compress loose earth into a stable platform strong enough to hold a pony."
"Sure it can," I say with a shrug. "If you're good enough."
Her jaw tightens. "No, it can't. I've studied telekinesis extensively. It's about moving objects, chunks of earth, not manipulating their internal structure. When you gather loose earth you just slide through. The kind of precision and force required to compress earth like that would—" She stops mid-sentence, her eyes widening as realization dawns. "You're doing something to the particles themselves, aren't you? Like with the illusion. You're manipulating… something smaller. Something… fundamental."
I keep my face as neutral as possible, but inside, my brain is screaming.Stop talking, stop talking, stop talking!
Twilight starts pacing, her hooves tapping rhythmically against the floor as her mind works furiously. "If it's not just telekinesis, then it's something else entirely. Maybe… maybe you're using some kind of harmonic resonance to stabilize the particles? Or could it be a spell that manipulates the cohesion of matter itself?"
"Sure," I say vaguely, "if that makes sense to you."
She stops pacing and fixes me with a piercing stare. "You're not denying it."
"I'm not confirming it, either," I say with a smirk, leaning casually against the doorframe.
Twilight groans, her ears twitching in frustration. "You're impossible! Do you realize what this could mean? If you've discovered a way to manipulate matter at a fundamental level, it could revolutionize magic as we know it! And you're just brushing it off like it's nothing!"
"Because it is nothing," I say firmly, waving a hoof. "It's just a trick. No deep magic, no ancient knowledge. Just… intuition."
Twilight narrows her eyes. "Intuition doesn't let you bypass the foundational laws of magic! What you're doing isn't just advanced—it's unheard of. And then there's Sweetie Belle."
I raise an eyebrow, trying to appear uninterested. "What about her?"
Twilight's voice takes on an exasperated edge. "How is Sweetie Belle—a filly who struggles with basic spells—able to use something as intricate as the Doppler Illusion in seconds? I watched her cast it, and that spell requires layered mental structuring to reduce the mental load of the intent while allowing real-time corrections to the visualization to bypass the chant! You said that's how it works! Do you have any idea how advanced that is?"
I sigh, scratching the back of my head. "She's got a knack for it."
"A knack?" Twilight sputters. "She could barely levitate objects without her magic sputtering out, and now you're telling me she can create an illusion that perfectly simulates motion and perspective shifts? With no chant? No framework? Just a knack?"
"Pretty much," I say, shrugging. "Maybe she's a prodigy."
Twilight glares at me, her frustration palpable. "Stop playing dumb, Kinetic! You're the one who taught her! You explained how the spell works—layered mental structures, real-time adjustments, amplifying inherent energy in the particles. That's not something you just stumble into. It's a level of control even I would struggle with, and you're acting like it's nothing!"
"Well, maybe I'm just a really good teacher," I say, flashing a grin that I know will irritate her.
Her eye twitches, and she takes a deep breath, clearly trying to stay calm. "If you're such a good teacher, then explain it to me. Step by step. How does the Doppler Illusion work?"
I hesitate for half a second too long, and Twilight's expression sharpens. "That's what I thought," she says, her tone biting. "You can't explain it because it's not magic. At least, not the kind of magic anypony knows."
"It's magic," I say quickly, trying to steer the conversation back to safer ground. "Just… unconventional."
Her brows narrow, and she stomps a hoof. "Unconventional?! You're bending the rules of magic—or breaking them entirely—and you're not even taking it seriously! Do you have any idea how much research this could inspire? How much this could change?"
I sigh, leaning against the doorframe again. "Twilight, it's not that deep. It's just a different way of thinking about magic. That's all."
"A different way of thinking?" she echoes, her voice rising. "What does that even mean? What kind of thinking?"
I glance at the floor, at the walls, anywhere but her piercing gaze. "Creative thinking."
She groans, throwing her hooves in the air. "You're infuriating! First the Lift Disk, now the Doppler Illusion, and you won't explain anything! It's like pulling teeth trying to get a straight answer out of you!"
"Maybe you're just overthinking it," I say lightly, though my insides are twisting into knots. "Sometimes simple things seem complicated when you analyze them too much."
Twilight takes a sharp step forward, her face twitching with agitation. "Overthinking? You're claiming Sweetie Belle—Sweetie Belle—managed to pull off an advanced spell that takes years of study, and it's just because I'm overthinking it? Do you even hear yourself?"
"Loud and clear," I say, suppressing a sigh. "Look, Twilight, I get that this is important to you, but you're really making a mountain out of a molehill. It's late, and I think we could both use some sleep."
Her ears flatten, her eyes narrowing. "You're trying to get rid of me."
"No, I'm trying to get some peace and quiet," I counter, rubbing my temples. "You're a great mage, Twilight. Really. But this? You're obsessing over nothing."
"Nothing?" she snaps. "The fundamental principles of magic—of reality—aren't 'nothing!' You're hiding something, and I—"
"Twilight," I interrupt, my voice firm but tired, "I think it's time for you to go before you cause more of a disturbance."
Before she can respond, there's a low rumble, and to my surprise, the floor beneath her hooves begins to shift. Like a conveyor belt, the polished wood moves Twilight toward the door, her hooves skidding as she scrambles to keep her balance.
"What—what's happening?!" she shouts, wobbling to stay upright.
"I… uh…" I stammer, just as bewildered. "The house does that sometimes."
"The house?" she yells, her voice high-pitched with both indignation and confusion. "You live in a house that throws ponies out?"
"It's more like a gentle nudge," I say, watching helplessly as the floor slides her toward the open door.
"This isn't a nudge!" Twilight shouts, as she tries to resist the inexorable movement. "It's kicking me out!"
I hold up a hoof. "It's nothing personal. The house just… has its own way of saying goodnight."
As if to punctuate my words, the conveyor belt speeds up slightly, depositing Twilight just outside the doorway. She stumbles but manages to catch herself, turning to glare at me as the door creaks ominously shut behind her.
"Unbelievable!" she shouts, her muffled voice barely audible through the thick door. "You and your ridiculous house! I'm not done with this, Kinetic Flux! I will figure out what you're hiding!"
I lean against the door and let out a long, weary sigh as her hoofsteps finally recede into the distance. "Sure you will," I mutter under my breath.
The house hums softly around me, as if pleased with itself, and I glance down at the now-still floor. "Thanks for the assist," I say dryly.
The house doesn't reply. The hum fades into the usual faint ambiance of the space, leaving the silence to settle back in like nothing happened.
I blink down at the now-ordinary floor, my thoughts racing. "Are you…?" I trail off, half-expecting some sign of acknowledgment, but the house remains still. Dormant.
I take a cautious step back and glance around the expansive room. Everything looks the same—same glowing orbs lighting the space, same shelves of dusty tomes lining the walls, same faint scent of parchment and ozone hanging in the air. But now there's an undercurrent of tension in my chest. This house had always been weird, sure. Bigger on the inside, defying every law of physics I knew, butalive?That was new.
"Okay," I mutter, pacing a little. "Maybe it's some kind of… enchantment? An autonomous system? Or maybe…" My voice trails off as my mind veers into uncharted territory.
I shake my head quickly. No. Overthinking it won't help. This house has been nothing but convenient since I moved in—spacious, with running water, and apparently able to eject unwanted guests. If it's alive, then at least it's on my side. For now.
But the thought sticks with me as I wander back toward the spigot to splash some water on my face again. The metallic creak of the tap feels louder in the stillness, the cold water biting against my fur. Staring at my reflection in the basin, I take a deep breath.
"Right," I tell myself firmly. "It's fine. The house is fine. I'm fine. Everything's fine."
The silence feels heavier now, like the house is listening, even if it's not responding. I glance around again, half-hoping for another hum or some sign that it's awake, but nothing comes.
With a sigh, I turn and head back toward the master bedroom. My hooves echo faintly against the wooden floor, the sound reminding me of just how vast this place really is. As I crawl back onto the absurdly soft mattress, I can't help but glance at the door, expecting another interruption. But the door remains closed, the quiet uninterrupted.
Lying there, staring up at the high, arched ceiling, I let the questions swirl in my mind.How does the house know when to act? Is it aware of everything inside? Is it even really alive, or just some ancient magic running on autopilot?
I turn over with a groan, burying my face in the pillow. "Don't overthink it," I mutter to myself. "It's just a house. A weird, possibly alive house that knows when to toss ponies out. Totally normal."
The words don't convince me, but eventually, the tension starts to fade, and exhaustion takes over. As I drift off, one final thought floats through my mind:
If the house can do that, what else is it capable of?
Author's Note:
Summary
Big Ground Platform:
Lift Energy: ~0.35 kcal To lift a 1m ground platform 0.1m thick, weighing 150kg, 1470 J (0.35 kcal) is needed.
Move Energy: ~0.18 kcal/m To move the platform horizontally 1m, overcoming friction (735 J or ~0.18 kcal) is required.
Total Energy: ~0.53 kcal/m Combining lift and movement gives a total of 2205 J (0.53 kcal).
Four Hoof Disks:
Lift Energy: ~0.004 kcal Each disk (area 0.00785m, thickness 0.1m) weighs ~1.18kg, requiring 11.56J (~0.004 kcal) to lift. For four disks, total lift energy is 46.24J (~0.004 kcal per disk).
Move Energy: ~0.013 kcal/m Moving each disk 1m horizontally requires 5.78J (~0.013 kcal for all four disks).
Total Energy: ~0.017 kcal/m Combining lift and movement for all four disks gives 69.36J (~0.017 kcal).
Proofs
1. Big Ground Platform
Mass of Platform:
Volume: V = 1 m 0.1 m = 0.1 m
Mass: m = ρ V = 1500 kg/m 0.1 m = 150 kg
Lift Energy:
E = m g h = 150 kg 9.8 m/s 1 m = 1470 J
Move Energy:
Friction force: F_friction = μ m g = 0.5 150 kg 9.8 m/s = 735 N
Work to move: W_move = F_friction d = 735 1 = 735 J
Total Energy:
E_total = 1470 735 = 2205 J
Convert to kcal: E_total, kcal = 2205 / 4184 0.53 kcal
2. Four Hoof Disks
Mass of Each Disk:
Disk area: A = πr = π(0.05 m) 0.00785 m
Disk volume: V = A h = 0.00785 m 0.1 m 0.000785 m
Disk mass: m = ρ V = 1500 kg/m 0.000785 m 1.18 kg
Lift Energy for 4 Disks:
E_lift per disk = m g h = 1.18 kg 9.8 m/s 1 m 11.56 J
Total: E_lift total = 4 11.56 46.24 J
Move Energy for 4 Disks:
Friction force per disk: F_friction = μ m g = 0.5 1.18 9.8 5.78 N
Work per disk: W_move per disk = F_friction d = 5.78 1 5.78 J
Total: W_move total = 4 5.78 23.12 J
Total Energy:
E_total = 46.24 23.12 69.36 J
Convert to kcal: E_total, kcal = 69.36 / 4184 0.017 kcal
Because I didn't know:
Inscientific usage, a "calorie" (with a lowercasec) is the amount of energy needed to raise 1 gram of water by 1C. Onekilocalorie(kcal) equals1,000of these small calories.
However, when we talk aboutfood energy(the "Calories" on food labels, often capitalized asCalories), we're actually referring tokilocalories (kcal). In other words:
1 "food Calorie" (kcal)=1,000 small calories.
1 "food Calorie" (kcal)4,184 joules (J).