The next morning, I wake up to the soft glow of the floating orbs overhead, my brain already buzzing with the same relentless thoughts that plagued me all night. No dreams, no peace, just endless circling questions.

Rolling out of bed, I grab a sheet of paper from the desk in the corner. Writing things out usually helps me sort my thoughts, so I jot down the two options I can't stop weighing.

Option 1: Admit the truth

Pros:

Finally be honest. No more lying or dancing around questions.

Twilight might back off once she understands I'm not doing magic but just clever tricks.

Sweetie Belle might be disappointed, but she's young. She'll get over it. Over me.

Cons:

Lose my job as Town Mage. Ponies would probably riot if they found out their so-called "mage" is just a fraud using physics.

No Archmage title. Goodbye, 1,000 bits a month.

Teaching ponies dangerous things that could hurt many people is bad. Probably.

Sweetie Belle might think I betrayed her. Teaching her fake magic is practically fraud, isn't it? What if Rarity sues me for it?

I'd be just some guy. No, worse—just someliar.I'd go down in Ponyville history as the biggest fraud since the Flim Flam brothers.

Option 2: Keep lying

Pros:

Keep my job, my stipend, and my house.

Keep up my reputation as a mysterious and brilliant mage.

No need to deal with angry mobs calling for my head or asking me to explain concepts they'll never understand.

Cons:

It's exhausting keeping up the act. How long can I keep fooling them?

Twilight's too smart. She'll probably figure it out eventually.

If the truth ever comes out, the fallout will be ten times worse. Fraud? Dishonesty? Betrayal? I'd be lucky if they just kicked me out of town.

What if Celestia finds out? What happens then? Would she banish me? Imprison me? Banish meandimprison me in the place she banishes me to?

I stop writing and rub my temples, the quill trembling slightly in my telekinetic grip. The thing that scares me the most—the thing I can't bring myself to write—is how much I actuallywantthem to believe in me. The respect, the admiration, the attention… I don't want to lose that. If I'm not Kinetic Flux, Town Mage and rising Archmage, then who am I?

A fraud.

The word sits like a lead weight in my stomach as I fold the paper and shove it into a drawer. My gaze drifts around the room before landing on the house itself. The…H.A.R.D.I.S., as I've started calling it in my head.House And Relative Dimensions In Space.It's mine, but… is it really?

The sudden realization hits me like a slap. I'm not even an actual citizen of Equestria. What if there are laws about who can own property? What if I've been living here illegally this whole time?

The panic drives me out of the room and down the seemingly endless hallway toward the front door. The house remains eerily silent, as if it knows I'm trying to leave and is waiting for my return.

I head straight to the Mayor's office, trying to appear casual as I approach her desk. Mayor Mare looks up from her paperwork with a polite smile. "Good morning, Kinetic Flux. How can I help you?"

"Oh, uh, good morning, Mayor," I say, clearing my throat. "I just had a… hypothetical question."

She raises an eyebrow. "Go on."

"Hypothetically," I begin, forcing a smile, "what would happen if, say, somepony wasn't an official citizen of Equestria? Would they still be allowed to own property? Like, I don't know, a house?"

Her smile falters slightly, and I immediately regret asking. "Well," she says, adjusting her glasses, "under Equestrian law, only citizens are permitted to own land or property. If somepony were found to be living on land they didn't have the right to own, the property could be confiscated and… well, the individual might face fines or other consequences, depending on the circumstances."

I swallow hard, trying to keep my expression neutral as Mayor Mare continues.

"Additionally," she says, flipping through a thick binder on her desk, "non-citizens are not allowed to hold official positions within Equestrian governance or administration. That would include titles like Town Mage or Archmage."

The weight in my stomach grows heavier, but she's not done.

"They also cannot legally sign contracts, own businesses, or receive state stipends like the one you're likely eligible for should you become an Archmage. Hypothetically speaking, of course."

"Of course," I say weakly, my throat suddenly dry.

She looks up at me, her expression shifting to something closer to concern. "And if somepony were to enter the country illegally, the situation would be even more complicated. Depending on the circumstances, they could face deportation, imprisonment, or—if they were deemed a threat to Equestria—banishment."

"Banishment?" I echo, my voice cracking slightly.

"Yes," she says with a nod. "It's rare, of course, but it has happened. Entering Equestria without proper documentation, especially if the individual takes up residence or a public position under false pretenses, is considered a serious offense. Again, purely hypothetical."

I nod quickly, eager to escape this increasingly uncomfortable conversation. "Right, purely hypothetical. Well, that's—uh—good to know. Thanks for clarifying, Mayor Mare."

But she's not done.

"Oh, and," she continues, flipping another page in her binder, "should a non-citizen be found working under false pretenses, any wages or benefits earned during that time would be considered void. They would likely have to repay any earnings to the government or the affected parties."

Absolutely not.

The words "repay any earnings" clang in my head like a gong. I barely hear the rest of what she's saying. Lose my house? My job? Mystipend?That's not happening. Not now, not ever.

By the time I'm outside the Mayor's office, I've already made my decision. Admitting the truth is officially off the table. Shut it down. Bury it. Burn the evidence. Whatever it takes, I'm keeping this act going. All my bits are on the line here.

I don't care if I have to keep teaching Sweetie Belle "fake" magic or deal with Twilight's endless questions. I'll double down on the act. Sure, the guilt eats at me a little, but bits are bits. You can't buy loyalty, but you sure can rent it, and if I'm paying rent to myself? Even better.

Besides, I've already sunk too much into this. Losing it all now would be worse than never having it to begin with. No, I'll smooth this over with Twilight. Redirect her attention. Convince her that she's overthinking things, that everything she saw was just basic telekinesis and clever application.

She's smart, sure, but she's also obsessed with magic. That's her weakness—she wants to understand everything. I'll feed her just enough breadcrumbs to keep her chasing the wrong trail.

The walk to find her feels long, my mind racing with half-formed excuses and calculated deflections. I finally spot her near the library, her nose buried in a scroll as she paces back and forth.

Perfect. The curiosity is still eating at her. Time to work somemagic.

"Twilight!" I call out, putting on my most casual, approachable smile. "Just the pony I was looking for."

She looks up, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Kinetic," she says, her tone clipped. "I was going to come find you later."

Of course you were,I think. "Great minds think alike," I say aloud. "I wanted to clear the air about last night. You seemed… frustrated."

"Frustrated?" she repeats, her ears twitching. "You mean when you refused to explain anything about your spells and then yourhousethrew me out?"

I hold up a hoof in mock surrender. "Okay, fair point. But I realized I might've come off as dismissive, and that wasn't my intention."

Her expression softens slightly, though suspicion still lingers in her eyes. "Go on."

I clear my throat, adopting my most patient, mentor-like tone. "First of all, I want to apologize if I made you feel like I was being evasive. That wasn't my goal. It's just that some of the spells I've developed—like the Doppler Illusion—are deeply personal to me. I spent years refining it, and honestly, I'm too…attachedto it to teach anyone who isn't my direct disciple."

Twilight raises an eyebrow, her skepticism practically radiating off her. "You're saying you're too emotionally invested in a spell to share it with others?"

"Exactly," I say, nodding earnestly. "It's like an artist with a masterpiece or a chef with a secret recipe. Some things are just too close to the heart."

She gives me a long, searching look, clearly not buying it entirely but also not dismissing it outright. "Alright," she says slowly, "but what about the Lift Disk Spell? Are you saying that one's also too personal to share?"

I shake my head. "Not at all. That one's actually very straightforward. I'd be happy to show you how it's done if it'll help clear up your doubts."

Her eyes narrow. "You'll teach me the Lift Disk Spell?"

"Sure," I say with a shrug. "But only if you promise to stop harassing me about my other spells afterward. Deal?"

Twilight huffs but nods. "Fine. If you can prove that the Lift Disk Spell is just telekinesis, I'll drop it. But if you're lying…"

"I'm not," I say quickly, holding up a hoof. "And you'll see for yourself."

She gestures for me to proceed, her expression skeptical but intrigued. "Alright. Show me."

I take a deep breath, doing my best to project confidence even as my mind races. This has to work. "Alright, Twilight. Pay close attention."

I focus on a patch of dirt nearby, drawing on as much of my telekinetic power as I can muster. Slowly, I compress the loose earth into a compact, solid disk, holding it together with sheer force. It's not easy—sweat is already starting to bead on my forehead—but I manage to get it stable.

"The trick," I say, my voice straining just a little, "is compressing the dirt enough that it behaves like a single mass. Loose earth is tricky, sure, but if you apply consistent force to hold it together, it's no different than standing on a stone."

Twilight watches intently, her skeptical expression softening into one of curiosity as I carefully step onto the disk. I can feel it wobble slightly under my hooves, but I grit my teeth and maintain the pressure. With a slow, deliberate motion, I glide a few feet across the ground.

"You see?" I say, forcing a grin. "Nothing complicated. Just a simple application of telekinesis."

Her eyes narrow slightly as she scrutinizes my movements. "You're holding it in place with telekinesis alone?"

"Exactly," I say, stepping off the disk and letting it crumble back into loose dirt. The relief of releasing the strain is immediate, though I try not to show it.

Twilight's horn glows as she steps forward. "Let me try."

My stomach drops slightly, but I force myself to nod. "Go ahead. It's all about maintaining consistent force. Just compress the dirt enough to hold its shape."

Her horn brightens, and with a surprising level of finesse, she replicates the process. The dirt compresses into a disk, solid and steady, as she steps onto it. The ease with which she manages it makes my earlier effort look amateurish, but I keep my face neutral.

Twilight hovers a few feet in the air, her movements smooth and controlled as she glides around on the disk. "Huh," she says, her tone thoughtful. "It really is just telekinesis."

"Told you," I say lightly, trying not to let my exhaustion show.

Twilight lands gracefully, her horn dimming as the disk crumbles back into loose dirt. She turns to me, her ears flat and her cheeks a vivid shade of pink. "I… I owe you an apology," she says, her voice unusually quiet.

I raise an eyebrow, caught off guard. "Apology? For what?"

"For everything!" she blurts, her ears twitching awkwardly. "For doubting you, for accusing you of… well, of all the things I accused you of. I should've just tried the spell myself instead of assuming it was something impossible." She winces, clearly uncomfortable with admitting she was wrong.

I crack a small smile, hiding it almost immideately. "Well, I'm not one to hold grudges."

Twilight groans, her embarrassment clearly deepening. "No, seriously, Kinetic. I've been hounding you about this spell, thinking it was some kind of breakthrough or anomaly, and it turns out it's just—" She cuts herself off, rubbing the back of her neck awkwardly. "Just telekinesis."

"It's an easy mistake to make," I say, keeping my tone light. "Not every day you see somepony compressing loose dirt into a floating platform, right?"

"That's no excuse for how I acted," she insists, her voice full of guilt. "I should've known better. And to make it worse, I was so wrapped up in proving myself right that I didn't even stop to think about how it must've felt for you—having somepony constantly question your methods."

"Well…" I hesitate for a moment, trying to decide whether to milk this or let it go. Ultimately, I settle for magnanimity. "It's water under the bridge. You were curious. I get it."

Twilight fidgets, looking up at me with a sheepish expression. "You're being way nicer about this than I deserve. I'm honestly really embarrassed."

"You shouldn't be," I say, offering a reassuring smile. "If anything, I'm flattered you cared enough to dig that deep. Shows how much you love magic."

She lets out a breathy laugh, her ears perking up slightly. "Well, I guess that's true. But I'll try to reign it in next time. And… thank you. For being patient with me."

"No problem," I say, waving a hoof. "It's what I do."

Twilight nods, her blush fading but her gratitude still evident. "I'll let you get back to your studies. And… I promise I won't bother you about this spell again."

I watch as she turns and heads back toward the library, her pace quickened, probably to escape the lingering embarrassment. Once she's out of sight, I exhale a long, relieved breath and slump slightly.

"Close call," I mutter, glancing at the now-scattered dirt.At least she didn't ask me to explain the Doppler Illusion again. Or fly more than a few feet.

With that, I start back toward theH.A.R.D.I.S., ready to collapse into the nearest chair and savor the sweet taste of victory—for now.

As I stroll, enjoying the relative peace after dealing with Twilight, the sound of a crowd and excited chatter catches my ear. I glance down the street and spot a stage set up in the town square, its bright, flashy banners adorned with the name"The Great and Powerful Trixie!"in bold, over-the-top lettering.

Curiosity gets the better of me, and I wander closer. The crowd is already gathering—a mix of ponies I recognize, including Spike, Rarity, Applejack, and Rainbow Dash, all with varying degrees of skepticism on their faces. Front and center, a blue unicorn with a starry purple cape and hat is standing tall, her horn glowing as she conjures a series of sparkles and smoke.

"Behold!" she declares, her voice ringing with dramatic flair. "The Great and Powerful Trixie shall now dazzle you with feats of magic the likes of which have never been seen!"

The crowd murmurs, a mix of polite interest and poorly veiled amusement. I lean against a lamppost, watching as Trixie launches into her act. She pulls off some basic illusions—fireworks, glowing orbs, and a bouquet conjured from thin air. Not bad, really, but I can see the snide glances from the crowd.

"Pfft, big deal," Rainbow mutters loud enough for everypony to hear. "Twilight could do that in her sleep."

"Tch, this here ain't real magic," Applejack says, shaking her head. "It's all just smoke and mirrors."

Even Rarity can't resist chiming in. "A bit… theatrical, don't you think?"

I feel a pang of sympathy for Trixie. Sure, she's laying it on thick, but I can't help but feel a sense of kinship with her. A showmare, a charlatan, just trying to dazzle the crowd and carve out a place for herself. I know that game all too well.

Trixie's ears flick at the muttering, and I see her jaw tighten. But she doesn't miss a beat. With a dramatic flourish, she points a hoof toward the crowd. "It seems some of you doubt the magnificence of Trixie's magic! Perhaps a volunteer from the audience will help Trixie prove her unmatched skill!"

There's an awkward pause as everypony avoids her gaze. Then, with an almost predatory grin, she spots me.

"You there!" she calls, her eyes gleaming. "You look like somepony with a flair for the dramatic! Come, assist The Great and Powerful Trixie!"

The crowd parts, and all eyes fall on me. I hesitate, caught between the urge to slink away and the sudden realization that refusing might draw more attention. Slowly, I step forward, doing my best to keep my expression neutral.

Trixie smirks as I approach the stage. "What is your name, brave volunteer?"

"Kinetic Flux," I say, trying not to sound too reluctant.

"Ah, a fine name for a fine assistant!" she declares, throwing a hoof around my shoulders in an overly familiar gesture. "Now, Kinetic, prepare yourself! Trixie shall demonstrate magic so astounding, so powerful, that your very senses will tremble!"

The crowd chuckles softly, but I can feel their skepticism. I glance at Trixie, who's clearly enjoying the attention, and a strange sense of conflict rises in my chest. She's a charlatan, like me—playing up her tricks to impress the crowd. If I show her up, I could ruin her act. But if I take a dive, I risk looking like an idiot in front of everypony.

"So, Kinetic," Trixie says, turning to me with a smug smile. "Do you think you can outdo the magic of The Great and Powerful Trixie?"

I meet her gaze, my mind racing. Do I prove her wrong and let the crowd tear her down, or do I let her have her moment and risk my own credibility?

The crowd is waiting, their eyes flicking between us with growing anticipation. I feel a bead of sweat roll down my neck as I force a grin. "What exactly did you have in mind, Trixie?"

"Oh, nothing too challenging for The Great and Powerful Trixie," she says with a wink, her horn beginning to glow. "Let's see if you can match this!"

Trixie's horn flares as she conjures an illusion of a roaring dragon, smoke curling from its nostrils as it looms over the stage. The crowd gasps, some with genuine awe, others clearly unimpressed. I glance at the dragon, then at Trixie, who's smirking at me like she's already won.

"All yours, Kinetic Flux," she says, stepping back dramatically. "Show us what you've got."

The weight of the town's eyes feels unbearable. I just managed to satisfy Twilight's endless scrutiny earlier, and now the entire square is watching me like I'm some kind of spectacle. My pulse pounds in my ears as I weigh my options. I could obliterate Trixie's illusion with a simple trick, unravel her act for what it is.

Taking a deep breath, I step forward, my horn glowing faintly. With a bit of telekinesis, I create a clumsy puff of smoke, accompanied by a small, flickering orb of light. The crowd falls silent for a moment, and then somepony coughs awkwardly. Trixie's smirk turns into a full grin as she steps back in, dramatically banishing her dragon with a wave of her hoof.

"Ah, a valiant effort!" she declares, her voice dripping with mock sympathy. "But as you can see, The Great and Powerful Trixie's magic is simply unparalleled!"

The crowd erupts into laughter—not mean-spirited, but enough to make my cheeks burn. I force a weak smile and step back off the stage. As I walk away, I catch Twilight's gaze, and my stomach sinks. She knows.

A few minutes later, I'm standing behind the stage near a tree, trying to cool down and shake off the embarrassment. Of course, Twilight finds me.

"You took a dive," she says bluntly, her expression a mix of irritation and curiosity.

I sigh, rubbing the back of my neck. "You caught that, huh?"

"It was obvious," she says, frowning. "Why didn't you just counter her illusion? You could've easily matched it—or even outdone it."

I glance back at the stage, where Trixie is basking in the crowd's applause. "Because it's her livelihood, Twilight. What's the point of ruining her act? She's just trying to make a living."

Twilight blinks, her frown softening. "I guess… that makes sense. I mean, I wouldn't want somepony destroying my career just to prove a point."

"Exactly," I say, relieved she's seeing my side. "It's not worth tearing someone down just to show off."

But before I can feel too good about myself, Rainbow Dash swoops down, followed closely by Applejack, Rarity, and Spike.

"You totally let her win!" Rainbow accuses, jabbing a hoof at me. "I saw that little puff of smoke you did. Lame!"

"Why'd you hold back?" Applejack asks, narrowing her eyes. "That Trixie's act ain't nothin' but hot air."

Rarity sighs dramatically, flipping her mane. "While I admire your compassion, darling, allowing a fraud like her to go unchecked only encourages her to continue deceiving everypony."

"Hey!" I snap, a little sharper than intended. "She's not hurting anypony. She's just putting on a show. You think it's easy standing up there in front of everypony, trying to impress them?"

Rainbow huffs. "Doesn't matter. If she's gonna claim to be the 'greatest,' she should be able to back it up."

Twilight steps in, holding up a hoof. "I think Kinetic's point is valid. But… maybe it wouldn't hurt to see if she can actually handle a challenge."

"Exactly," Rainbow says, grinning. "And we're just the ponies to give her one."

Applejack adjusts her hat. "If she's gonna boast about bein' the best, let's see how she stacks up."

Rarity nods. "I suppose it's only fair. A little competition might do her some good."

I groan, realizing there's no stopping them. "Fine, but just… don't destroy her, okay? She's still a pony trying to make a living."

"No promises," Rainbow says, already flying back toward the stage. The others follow, leaving me standing there, wishing I'd stayed in bed.

This is going to be a disaster.

The crowd buzzes with anticipation as the mares climb the stage one by one, each eager to prove Trixie's magic nothing more than smoke and mirrors. Trixie, however, looks completely unbothered, her smug grin plastered across her face as she stands confidently at the center of the stage.

First up is Applejack. She steps forward, tipping her hat. "Alright, sugarcube. Let's see if yer fancy magic can handle some good ol'-fashioned rope skills."

Applejack grabs her trusty lasso and begins twirling it expertly, looping and spinning the rope with ease. The crowd cheers as she tosses the lasso into the air, catching it and pulling it taut in a perfect knot.

Trixie yawns dramatically. "Impressive—for a rodeo, perhaps. But allow The Great and Powerful Trixie to demonstrate what real skill looks like!"

Her horn glows, and Applejack's lasso suddenly whips out of her hooves, wrapping itself tightly around her. Before Applejack can protest, Trixie yanks the rope, pulling Applejack onto her back like a hogtied calf.

"Hey!" Applejack protests, struggling against the rope. "That ain't fair!"

"Fairness is for amateurs," Trixie says with a smirk, her voice dripping with mockery. The crowd laughs, and Applejack grumbles as she's helped off the stage.

Next up is Rainbow Dash. She hovers confidently above the stage, her chest puffed out. "Alright, Trixie. Let's see you topthis!"

Rainbow rockets into the air, spinning and looping through the sky in a dazzling display of speed and agility. She dashes through a cloud, bringing water behind her. She finishes with a burst, creating a miniature rainbow that lights up the stage. The crowd cheers wildly.

Trixie, however, remains unimpressed. "A flashy performance, but let's see how well you handlethis!"

Her horn glows, and a swirl of magical wind encircles Rainbow Dash. Before Rainbow can react, she's caught in a vortex, spinning wildly out of control. The pegasus flails as the crowd gasps, her normally graceful mane and tail whipping around like crazy.

"Trixie demands applause!" the showmare declares, and the crowd, unsure whether to laugh or gasp, gives polite claps as Rainbow stumbles off the stage, wobbling dizzily.

Rarity steps forward next, tossing her mane dramatically. "A proper performance should have elegance, style, and above all, beauty. Allow me to show you how it's done."

She levitates a bolt of shimmering fabric and begins weaving it into a stunning dress, the fabric flowing and sparkling as it takes shape. The audience "oohs" and "ahhs" as she creates an intricate, dazzling garment in mere moments.

Trixie watches with a sly grin. "Oh, how quaint. But allow Trixie to add her own… artistic touch!"

With a flick of her horn, a burst of magic shoots toward Rarity. The unicorn shrieks as her mane and tail transform into a tangled, green rats' nest—complete with actual rats poking their heads out. The crowd bursts into laughter, and Rarity bolts off the stage, wailing about her ruined appearance.

"Enough!" Trixie declares, holding up a hoof as the laughter dies down. "You see now that The Great and Powerful Trixie is beyond compare! But let me share a story to truly cement my greatness!"

The stage dims, and Trixie's horn glows brighter as she conjures an illusion of a monstrous bear, its translucent form towering over the crowd. "The Great and Powerful Trixie once defeated an Ursa Major, saving an entire town from its rampage!"

The audience gasps, some in awe, others clearly skeptical. Spike crosses his arms, muttering, "Yeah, right."

But Trixie is undeterred. "Yes, it wasTrixiewho stood against the beast, wielding her unparalleled magic to drive it back to the Everfree Forest! No other unicorn could possibly hope to achieve such a feat!"

As the crowd murmurs, I can't help but shake my head from the sidelines.She's digging herself a deep hole.

The Mane 6, now regrouped but still disheveled, exchange glances. They're clearly not done with Trixie yet, but I can already see the chaos brewing in their eyes. This isn't going to end well—for anyone. But the show is over, so I leave.

The sun hangs low in the sky as I finish my late lunch, the taste of mediocre hay fries lingering as I meander back toward myH.A.R.D.I.S.. There's a strange, nagging feeling in the back of my mind, like I'm forgetting something important, but I brush it off. Maybe it's just the lingering embarrassment from earlier—or the looming dread of Twilight inevitably grilling me again.

As I near the edge of town, the sound of startled cries and thundering footsteps shakes me from my thoughts. My ears perk, and I glance toward the noise, my heart dropping like a stone.

AnUrsa Minor.

The massive, translucent bear stomps through the outskirts of Ponyville, its starry form shimmering ominously in the fading light. But it's not the town it's heading for—it's heading straight for myH.A.R.D.I.S.

I stop dead in my tracks, a chill running down my spine.Oh no. Not the house. Not my house.

TheH.A.R.D.I.S.is the one thing I can't afford to lose. It's my shelter, my sanctuary, my best-kept secret. If that thing lays a single paw on it, I lose all that.

Gritting my teeth, I shove my usual hesitation and fear aside. This is survival.

I pull my chalk bag off my shoulder. I don't even hesitate as I telekinetically hurl a cloud of it into the air, the fine particles spreading in a shimmering mist around theUrsa Minor'smassive head.

The creature snorts, its glowing eyes narrowing as it stops in its tracks. Perfect. I channel everything I have into the Doppler Illusion, vibrating the particles of chalk into a dazzling, shifting mirage. The air around the bear's head shimmers and warps, the illusion taking form.

A forest path materializes—perfectly real to theUrsa Minor'seyes—leading away from my house and deeper into the woods. Stars twinkle above, and phantom trees sway in an invisible breeze.

The bear hesitates for a moment, then starts lumbering toward the illusion, its massive paws crushing the earth beneath it.

Sweat drips down my brow as I maintain the illusion, every ounce of focus honed on keeping it flawless. It's purely visual—no sound, no smell—but I'm gambling that the creature's curiosity and limited intelligence will buy me enough time to lead it away.

But as I guide it further into the woods, my mind flickers to the worst-case scenario. What if it doesn't work? What if it realizes the illusion isn't real and turns back? I glance at the shimmering chalk particles, my jaw tightening. If it comes to it, I'll have to do something I've never done before.

I'll kill it.

The thought sends a shiver down my spine, but I push the unpleasant feeling aside. The Doppler Illusion isn't just for show—the particles already move at absurd speeds. If I accelerate those particles fast enough, I could turn them into projectiles. A deadly, invisible barrage.

I swallow hard, my focus unyielding as theUrsa Minorcontinues lumbering deeper into the forest. Its massive form brushes against the phantom trees, its head occasionally turning to inspect the illusion.

The Ursa Minor snorts, its glowing eyes narrowing as it swipes a massive paw through the shimmering chalk particles on its face. The illusion flickers violently, and a sharp, burning sensation shoots through my horn like a jolt of lightning. I stagger, the feedback from the disrupted illusion searing through my skull.

"Damn it," I mutter, clutching my head as the Doppler Illusion collapses. The bear lets out a low growl, its gaze locking onto me. My legs tremble, but I don't run. There's no point now.

I stare at the bear, my jaw set, my chest hollow. There's no anger in me, no hatred—just an unbearable weight of remorse. I don't want to do this. But it's already done.

The particles still hover faintly in the air, my last chance to make this quick and painless. My horn sparks as I gather the remnants of the illusion, compressing the particles tighter and tighter. I can feel the energy building, the atoms vibrating faster, teetering on the edge of a catastrophic release.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, the words barely audible over the thunderous growl of the Ursa Minor. It takes a step forward, and for a moment, I see its face clearly—not the monster everypony else sees, but a confused, scared creature.

I always knew it would come to this. Chrysalis, Tirek, Sombra—it could have been any one of them. This world is too real for idealism, too raw for the kind of peace I've tried to maintain. I always knew I wasn't cut out to be one of those ponies—the kind who solves problems without bloodshed.

It was always going to happen.

The atoms tremble under my control, ready to launch through the creature's skull. I steel myself, preparing to release the energy.

"STOP!" a voice cries out, sharp and commanding.

I freeze, my horn flickering as Twilight appears in a flash of purple light. She stands between me and the Ursa Minor, her eyes wide with determination.

"Twilight, what are you—" I start, my voice hoarse, but she doesn't even glance at me.

The bear roars, but Twilight doesn't flinch. Her horn glows brightly, and in a moment of pure serenity, a massive bottle of milk appears, floating in the air before the Ursa Minor. The creature's growl falters as it sniffs the bottle, curiosity replacing aggression.

"It's just a baby," Twilight says softly, her voice calm and steady. "It's scared and hungry."

The bear reaches out, grabbing the bottle and drinking deeply. Its massive body relaxes, the tension in its muscles melting away. I let the particles dissipate, the energy fading as my legs finally give out. I slump to the ground, staring at the scene before me.

Twilight gently coaxes the Ursa Minor away, her magic weaving a calming spell as she leads it back toward the Everfree Forest. The bear follows her obediently, its earlier fury forgotten.

When she's gone, and the square is quiet again, I sit there, my chest heaving as the weight of what almost happened settles in. I was seconds away from crossing a line I could never uncross.

I knew it was just a baby. I'd known from the start. But I didn't care. I wasn't some magical powerhouse who could conjure milk or calm a rampaging creature with a wave of my horn. My magic isn't built on harmony or understanding—it's built on force, precision, and physics that ponies like Twilight will never comprehend.

That's who I am. That's who I've always been.

Even as I justify it to myself, though, the nagging doubt creeps in. Could I have done more? Was there another way? I rub my aching horn, my thoughts spiraling. This time, Twilight showed up just in time to stop me. But next time? What if there's no Twilight? What if I'm the only one standing between something dangerous and everything I care about?

I don't want to admit it, but I know the answer. I'll do what I have to. I'll cross the line again. Maybe it won't be an Ursa Minor next time. It could be anything. But I'll always end up here: staring down something I can't outthink or outmaneuver, forcing myself to use the tools only I understand.

My jaw tightens. The danger isn't just out there. It's in me, too. The things I can do with my "magic"—if ponies like Twilight or Celestia knew what I was capable of, they'd never trust me again. And they'd be right not to. My physics-based tricks aren't flashy illusions. They're dangerous, precise weapons, and in the wrong hooves—or the right ones used the wrong way—they're catastrophic.

This is why I can't teach anyone.I've always known that. But now it's staring me in the face. If Sweetie Belle keeps learning from me, she might stumble across something I can't take back. A spell she doesn't understand fully. A trick with consequences she can't predict.

I clench my teeth, the weight in my chest growing heavier. Sweetie's a good kid—she deserves better than me. She deserves a teacher who'll inspire her, not one who'll drag her down this path. Maybe it's time to let her go as my student. For her sake. For everypony's.

I haul myself to my hooves, my legs still trembling. The silence of the square feels suffocating, and I glance toward the Everfree Forest, where Twilight disappeared with the Ursa Minor. She didn't know what I was about to do. She doesn't know how close I came to breaking everything.

But I do. I know it too well. And I know it'll happen again.

I take a shaky breath and start toward myH.A.R.D.I.S., my mind a storm of guilt, doubt, and something darker—something inevitable. All I can do is hope I don't lose myself completely when the next line comes. Because I'll cross it.

I always do.

Author's Note:

Compressed Dirt Slab

Initial Volume and Density:

Volume: V = 1m 0.1m = 0.1m.

Initial density (ρi): 1500kg/m.

Mass: m = ρi V = 1500 0.1 = 150kg.

Compressed Volume:

Final density (ρf): 2000kg/m.

Final volume: Vf = m / ρf = 150 / 2000 = 0.075m.

Final thickness: hf = Vf / A = 0.075 / 1 = 0.075m (7.5cm).

Energy Required for Compression:

Compaction energy: 2MJ/m (typical soil compaction value).

Energy for 0.1m: E = 2 0.1 = 0.2MJ = 200,000J.

Convert to kcal: Ekcal = 200,000 / 4184 47.8kcal.

Summary

Final Dimensions: 1m area, 7.5cm thickness.

Energy Required:~47.8 kcalto fully compress the dirt into a dense slab.

Key Differences

Method: The uncompressed slab is simply lifted and manipulated to maximize the forces holding it together, while the compressed slab involves simply compacting the dirt. The Compressed dirt does not stay settled, and needs to be held together tightly by telekinesis to stay a disk.

Energy Cost: Compressing the slab requires significantly more energy.

Strength: The compressed slab is much stronger and more durable due to reduced porosity.

With precise targeting (e.g., the Ursa Minor's eye or brain), you could use a0.1 g projectiletraveling at30,000 m/sto deliver sufficient damage. This requires45 kJ of energy, which is about the energy of10 grams of TNT. (10.8 kcal)