False Face

Chapters

Chapter 2: Waking Up
Chapter 3: Hooray Crusaders
Chapter 4: The New Client
Chapter 6: Cutie Map Mishap
Chapter 7: Silent Night
Chapter 8: Club Sisters
Chapter 9: Identity Crisis
Chapter 10: Grim News and Hard Resolve
Chapter 11: Ideal Reinforcement
Chapter 12: Rejection
Chapter 13: My Sister Rarity
Chapter 15: Enter Twilight
Chapter 16: Cutie Map Reveals
Chapter 17: The Plot Thickens
Chapter 18: The Face of the Enemy
Chapter 19: Ghosts
Chapter 20: Enemy of My Enemy
Chapter 21: Emotions in a Bottle
Chapter 22: Psychological Experiment
Chapter 23: Makeover
Chapter 24: Acceptance
Chapter 25: Tainted Joy
Chapter 26: The Room
Chapter 27: Girls Night Out, Part 1
Chapter 28: Girls Night Out, Part 2
Chapter 29: Girl's Night Out, Part 3
Chapter 30: Girl's Night Out, Part 4
Chapter 31: Amending Fences
Chapter 32: Cold Reflection
Chapter 33: Today I Learned That ...
Chapter 34: As Time Passes
Chapter 35: Subterfuge
Chapter 37: Bringing it All Together
Chapter 38: Who I Am
Chapter 39: Same but Different
Epilogue: A New Face
Chapter 1: Whistle in the Fog
Chapter 5: Change of Plans
Chapter 14: About Changelings ...
Chapter 36: Interview with a Changeling

Chapter 2: Waking Up

My eyes remain closed as I hear that shrill scream. If I'm about to be attacked, I don't want to see it coming. I continue to shrivel and shrink tight as I hear that awful screech.

“Sweetie Belle!” I hear my mother calling but it sounds a bit muffled as if the voice is behind a door. A moment later I hear a pounding on a door.

Surprised, I finally open my eyes. I grow doubly surprised to learn my environment changed yet again.

This is my room! How did I get here all of a sudden?

“Sweetie Belle, I'm coming in,” my mother, Cookie Crumbles, warns. After she says that, the dull pink hided and two shades purple mane and tail mare does, indeed, enter my room. From there, she immediately comes to my bed and squeezes me on both of my shoulders between her forehooves. “Honey, talk to me. What's wrong? Is it that dream again?”

Dream? So I was dreaming?

Oh, and I had that dream before?

If this is true, this may explain why my environment changed again. What I suffered before must have been a dream and now I've awakened back in my room in Ponyville.

I should feel relieved, but for a very brief moment, I panic again because, if the experience I went through was a dream, then the errand I've done for my sister hasn't been completed yet.

Until it occurs to me that that specific errand was yet another element of the dream. That's good! It means I haven't let my sister down yet.

Well, at least not in this specific context.

Besides, my older sister is fairly wealthy now. She's a successful fashionista across Equestria. If she needed some errand like a bolt of cloth to be delivered to one of her boutiques, there are plenty of other ponies she could have hired.

That might have been my mindset during the dream as well. Despite the fact that Rarity could have hired anypony, I volunteered because I still like to please my sister even after all these years.

My older sister . . . who is celebrated to be the Element of Generosity. Well . . . I like to show her that I can be that generous too every once in a while. I don't need any reward for such endeavors either. I love her!

Besides, helping other ponies is what I do for a living! I am a Cutie Mark Crusader.

To that end, I suppose I should comfort my overly anxious mom.

“I'm fine, Mother. I'm fine,” I assure her as I start to sit up. “It was just a bad dream.”

“The same dream?” my mother asks me with lingering concern.

Because of her question, I think back.

My mind is still waking up, but it feels like it groggily responds with: Well, since you asked, here's the information I'm able to pull up on such short notice.

It turns out I did suffer from such a dream before. Many elements are different each time. The location keeps changing and the circumstances leading up to the nightmare keeps changing, but several things that are fairly consistent is the feeling of being slowly followed yet I'm unable to escape, the arrival of either fog in daylight or darkness at night, a whistle from a pony or creature I can't see, and six times out of ten it ends with a visit from some demonic raven. The song of the whistle is consistent too. Try as I might, I can't recall when I've heard something similar while awake. If it weren't for the haunting elements surrounding the song, I would have found it quite catchy.

I really enjoy music, after all, and the song didn't seem inherently bad.

Although I want to comfort my mother, I don't want to lie to her to do it.

“Yes, Mother. Sort of,” I answer her. “This time I was galloping an errand for my older sister by delivering a bolt of cloth to her boutique in Canterlot. When I got out, it was fog this time. I couldn't find anypony except one who whistled out in that endless stretch of fog.

“Oh Mom! It was scary! I was so scared!”

As I predicted, my comment immediately provokes my mother to hug me tightly. I squeeze my eyes shut as I lean into that hug. Regardless of the circumstances that caused this action, I love this part! I love being hugged and touched affectionately. It really makes my day. I know that, no matter what, I can always count on that from my parents whenever I need it.

“I'm so sorry, Sweetie. I really wish I could do something to defend you in your dreams,” my mother bemoans. “Anything that attacks either one of my daughters will always invoke my wrath. You know you can count on me, don't you?”

“Of course, Mom,” I say in a slightly muffled way since I'm speaking into the fur of her left shoulder because I'm still being hugged tightly. “I always know that about you and Dad. That's why I love you both so much.”

“Maybe there is a spell or hypnosis we could try,” my mother muses with a concerned but also calculating tone. “I don't want my darling baby girl attacked anymore! It makes me sick that I can't defend you in this regard.”

“I know you would if you could,” I announce. “Knowing that already makes me feel better.”

“My feelings right now may feel familiar to you someday when you get foals of your own,” my mother continues to muse but she sounds a lot calmer this time.

“Eh . . . we'll see about that someday,” I reply.

“Well,” my mother pulls back so she can finally look at me this morning. “Don't you have a date with your very special somepony tonight?” my mother asks me with clearly rising excitement in her voice.

I feel myself burn with embarrassment but also pleasure. I have to acknowledge to myself that it is a very pleasant situation. Not only because I really, really like him, but also because I enjoy the mere idea of being in a romantic relationship. I read romance and fairy tale novels while growing up all the time. Having a romantic relationship feels like a rite of passage to me. A necessary step for me to cross over the threshold from fillyhood to adulthood.

“I, uh . . . think it’s rather nice,” I admit to my mother shyly.

“Oh. Of course,” my mother accepts. “I'm sure your Cutie Mark Crusader activities greatly fill your mind, too.”

“Well, that and school,” I tell her in a more relaxed tone.

“Speaking of which,” my mother says as she looks at the lilac-colored curtain of my room, “the morning sunshine will soon be upon us. You best get ready for school.” She looks back at me. “To that end, I've been preparing some breakfast for you.”

“Oh Mom, you're the best!” I cry excitedly as I lean forward to hug her again. Honestly, she does this for me every morning. I shouldn't feel this excited since it's so routine, but that is exactly what I love about her so much. I have a reason to look forward to waking up every morning.

“I love you Mom,” I tell her with tender affection.

“I love you too, Sweetheart,” my mother replies in the same tender way.

“Sweeeeeeeety Beeeeeeeeeeelle!” one of my best friends, Scootaloo, calls to me outside. “Come out, come out, wherever you aaaaaaaaaaaaaare.”

“Well,” my dad, Hondo Flakes, says casually as he floats his newspaper down on the dinner table with his magic. “Sounds to me like your ride has arrived.”

“Oh, I know!” my mother says happily with a dismissive wave of a hoof. “She's such a darling to provide my precious daughter a ride to school every morning. To that end,” she looks at then floats not one, but three lunchboxes over to me. When it is delivered, she looks at me and says exactly what I expect her to say. “Sweetie Belle, be a doll and deliver these other lunchboxes to your precious little friends, why don'cha? It's the least we can do for all the favors they show us.”

“I do favors for them too, Mom,” I remind her. “But sure! I have no qualms delivering them something extra special. After all, they appreciate it too.

“Although,” I blush a bit. “Apple Bloom has complained a few times. After all, she can't seem to leave her home without being stuffed to the brim. She gets a traditional family breakfast every morning. As for lunch, she has at least one apple every day. Often she shares that with us, too.”

“Oh, I know!” my mother says happily with another dismissive wave of a hoof. “That's why you won't find apple slices among the lunchboxes. I'm sure your daw-ling friend has that aspect covered. I just thought I'd provide a little something extra special,” she declares with a wink. “Like caramel dip. That should go well with her apple slices, don'cha know?”

For a moment I just stare at my mother as I grow a happy smile. After that, I hop out of my seat, canter around the table, then peck my mother on the cheek followed by the appreciative comment, “Thanks, Mom. I love you.”

“You're welcome,” my mother replies pleasantly. “Have a good day at school, Hon.”

“I will. Bye! I love you!” I remind her again.

While floating up his newspaper again, my father leans over to his right as I start to circle the table again. As he expected, I gladly peck him a kiss on the cheek too before heading out the door.

I yawn tiredly while I ride within the red wagon that is pulled by one of my best friends Scootaloo. She pulls it from the lead while riding on a scooter herself. She uses her tiny wings for propulsion.

My other best friend, Apple Bloom, is also riding in the wagon with me. In her case, she is relaxing casually on her back while seeming to admire the sky above her.

As we continue our ride to school, I mull over the fact that I went through multiple phases during my life regarding this service Scootaloo is providing. First I experienced giddy gratitude because this kind of service is very rare in Equestria, especially among foals. Carts and wagons are pulled all the time in other cities. It seems especially common in Manehatten. I've seen that city multiple times while joining my elder sister as we made our way to her Manehatten boutique. Some wagons actually fly if pulled by pegasi. Scootaloo is such a race. She can't fly, but she can achieve very fast forward momentum.

The second phase I experienced about this service is a small shade of guilt. I could have trot my way to school with no problem. Apple Bloom lives even further and she used to do it all the time until Scoots starting insisting we go together. We do everything together, it seems, and all three of us rarely mind that fact.

But the part of me that felt guilt over this situation is the realization that the two of us, Apple Bloom and I that is, are being somewhat of a burden to Scootaloo. After all, she is the one pulling us to school all the time. I don't mind it every once in a while, but the fact we've been doing it every single day for quite a while had started to make me feel guilty.

On top of that, I've occasionally noticed jealous looks from the other foals we pass along our way to school. In most cases, they usually pretend to be happy for us. They'd wave at us as we pass and say, “Good morning.” I'm sure what they say isn't entirely a lie, but I can see that jealous gleam in their eyes, too. They wish they were one of us. That might even apply to the colts, but I'm sure they'd deny it if we asked.

During this phase, it bothered me so much that I once brought it up with my friends. I can't remember if it was Apple Bloom, Scootaloo, both, or possibly some other pony. In any case, I was told that Scootaloo happily provided this service because she loved to be useful. She likes going fast and she loves riding her scooter. Doing so with her very best friends makes the experience all the more enjoyable for her.

After I was told this, my attitude relaxed a lot further about this issue. The pleasant feelings I used to get for this returned except it gained a little extra depth to it. Warmth fills my heart to realize that riding with my two best friends like this is giving Scootaloo so much inner fulfillment. It makes so much sense that she wouldn't offer this service, or even insist upon it, if it genuinely didn't make her feel happy.

And that is the part I love about this experience. The sheer idea of knowing Scootaloo is so happy to provide this service. I love her so much! If there is anything I can do to provide her further happiness, so shall I do.

I'm sure Apple Bloom would've said the same thing, but she generally doesn't overthink as I do. Arguably, her specialty is to overfeel instead. Neither I nor Scootaloo sank unto a depressive rut more often or more deeply than my best friend Apple Bloom. I hate it when she gets into a funk like that, but that's what best friends are for. To help lift us up whenever we feel down.

I've had my moments too. Sometimes I can be quite the brat. Other times I can be . . .

. . . well . . .

It varies, honestly. I can get into a funk for all sorts of reasons. Sometimes it even seems to happen to me for no reason at all!

Life can be complicated for a girl sometimes, but then again, that's what best friends are for. We provide nurturing support about as often as we need it. It feels great to know we have that extra emotional safety net.

And boy, did we earn it!

I look around me as I casually yawn again. What I see, hear, and smell causes me to grow a dim pleasant smile.

I sure love this town! The smell of hay in the morning or the dirt streets that is clomped by all kinds of crisscrossing ponies. Most of them are doing something fairly routine like heading to work, but the wonderful thing about pony life is that the job often entails something to do with their cutie mark. That, in turn, means that whatever they are doing, they are doing in pursuit of their very special life's purpose. In most cases, they are doing what they'd willingly do for free. Being paid for it is simply a bonus, albeit a very necessary bonus to help pay the bills. This explains why they often head to “work” with a smile on their face and/or a jaunty tune on their lips. When the citizens of Ponyville say, “Good Morning to you,” they very often genuinely mean it.

This is especially true with Pinkie Pie, the Element of Laughter. She usually doesn't trot down the streets of Ponyville. Instead, she literally hops in pure joy. More than any other citizen of this town, it is especially common to get a pleasant greeting from her upon passing her, and she almost always does it by name unless it is a true stranger to this town. If it is, then that person just might get a very special extra greeting.

For Pinkie, spreading joy and smiles is her mission in life, so doing the one thing that is common in this town is extra intense.

It is a very pleasant thought to me and makes me feel gushy inside. Being a pony here in Equestria is often very pleasant, but it keeps getting better after each individual pony discovers their cutie mark. Honestly, that is just the start of their personal journey. For each step they take to further fulfill it, the stronger the joy and magic rises from the depths of our hearts. It just keeps getting better!

That's why my friends and I feel so much fulfillment in helping others find their purpose in life. We feel that way because we know where that direction leads. We give each of our very special clients a “push” in the right direction. Once those initial steps are taken, it often results in a cascade effect. After that, we can just step back and admire our hoofywork.

“Thanks, Cutie Mark Crusaders!” is the joyous call we often get as we pass one of our previous clients. For very logical reasons, most of our former clients are from Ponyville.

But I have given some thought to our future. Since we're just foals still, we don't often travel abroad, especially not alone, but I never forgot that, one day, we actually will grow up someday. Along with that are also expanded opportunities. Perhaps very important ones. For example, maybe we'd finally expand our business beyond the boundaries of Ponyville. After all, Ponyville can't be the only place to experience cutie mark problems. I even heard that just one street in Manehatten can have more than three times the population of all of Ponyville.

The thought of that expanded opportunity and necessity both excites and frightens me. There stands a good chance we could get swarmed by needy clients if our net expands that far. It would trickle at first, just like in Ponyville, as we get established. But, after just a few moons, it is likely to become clear to me that we absolutely need to expand our work force or we'll not keep up with the rising demand.

In the long gallop, I'm hoping that we're creating a legacy that will last throughout the ages. In fact, the more I think about it, the more I realize that a service like this should have existed a long time ago. After all, we are not the first ponies to get frustrated with the journey of self-discovery. Plenty of others have suffered this fate and need help.

I even heard really grim rumors of what other ponies have done due to their frustration of failing to get their mark. In very rare cases, some of their actions are extreme in that regard. Sometimes extreme to a permanent degree.

That thought makes me shudder, but it also reminds me why the service we provide is so important. Very often a pony would discover their cutie mark anyway given enough time. We just give them a little push. Another possibility is they might lose their way after discovering their mark and we are discovering that can be even more common. Once a pony has their mark, that is a permanent achievement. But, after that, they have all the time in the world to lose their way. More time passed means the odds accumulate.

That, in turn, means our services will always be in demand. In fact, it will be in more demand than our ability to provide. All three of us could die of old age and the demand would continue. That's why I'm determined to hire apprentices after we grow up. Our legacy must continue!

I grin as I realize I'm overthinking again. I do that sometimes.

Neigh. Often, I suppose.

Author's Note

*Note: This chapter has awarded the story with the Slice-of-life genre tag.

For now and the next few chapters, it is meant to be a "day in the life" story for Sweetie Belle in order to get to know the character better, those around her, and the situation she usually deals with before ratcheting the tension back up again. In this regard, the story may feel like a roller coaster of ups and downs. I'll build on the setting, the era, and the characters before introducing the main conflict.

Chapter 3: Hooray Crusaders

Of all the things I do as part of my regular, daily routines, school comes the closest to actually being a “chore”. Even then, I do enjoy it to some extent. I love Miss Cheerilee and I care for many of the foals in her class. It feels so good to be a part of something and, additionally, I know it's important. Everything we learn here prepares us for adulthood later, so I gladly accept it.

However, deep down, this isn't where my heart is being pulled. Over and over again, I keep thinking about my notes in my saddlebag about upcoming CMC cases. Sometimes I even regret discovering my cutie mark because of how distracting I find it during school. I might be concentrating on a math problem or attempting to read a history assignment when, all of a sudden, a new idea pops into my head about an experiment the CMC can perform for a client and I know I have to write it down before I forget.

In fact, I do that enough that Miss Cheerilee noticed. The first time I almost got a scolding, but many of the rest of her class stuck up for me. Even Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon, the very ponies who used to antagonize me and the rest of the CMC all the time.

In the end, Miss Cheerilee sighed and said, “Well, if it's really that important, just jot down a few notes and make it quick. I understand your work is really important, but so are your school assignments. After all, the more you learn here, the more you know which can help you to solve other ponies’ problems.” Then she asks me hopefully, “Do you understand?”

“Of course, Miss Cheerilee,” I had replied. “I'll do my best to make those notes real quick. Two . . . maybe three sentences tops.”

Miss Cheerilee rolled her eyes at me then trot away as she said, “Alright, class. Let's get back on track.

“Now, as I was saying . . .”

I had wondered, back then, why Miss Cheerilee rolled her eyes at me before trotting away, but I think I got my answer now. It's because she knew I did not have the discipline necessary to keep my promise that strictly. Three sentences tops? I'd be lucky if it were less than three sentences minimum!

Typically I can keep it that brief for a single idea, but the problem is multiple ideas spring upon me across the course of the day. Sometimes I even jot down notes that I already wrote before because I forgot that I did it before. I just end up repeating myself.

I really can't help it. Helping ponies is my passion project and it keeps trying to steal my concentration from my schoolwork.

Miss Cheerilee did have a good point, though. Learning more could help us in solving issues for a broader client base. If we only had one client then our work can get very specific, but the problem is solving cutie mark problems for everypony requires us to be as versatile as possible.

And that leads my thoughts back to some of my old concerns. I know we need to expand our business someday if we're ever to have some hope of expanding beyond Ponyville, but the problem with that is hiring the right personnel.

The more I think about it, the rarer the talents of the CMC seem to be. A griffon like Gabby really is an oddball. The odds of finding another creature that versatile could be slim to none. In the end, we might need subcategories of a staff who specialize in helping other ponies with more specific categories. Like some who specialize in farming, others with technology, others with arts and crafts, and so on. This is especially likely if those we hire are ponies. We, as a race, tend to specialize in very specific things. That's not to say that we can't diversify ourselves to some extent. We do, but it's generally not too common.

The problem with that is the needs of the clients can be all over the place. We, of the CMC, happen to have a knack for this, but what about everypony else? What are the odds of encountering other ponies who happen to have the exact same talents?

Certainly I heard of more than one pony who specializes in farming. Apple farming comes to mind in particular. I've also encountered multiple ponies that specialize in flying, or magic, or throwing parties, or fashion.

And yet our race has gone nearly our entire existence without something like the Cutie Mark Crusaders before. Despite the demand always being there, the supply just never measured up before. If our race has survived that long without it, are we really needed? What's more, how will we encounter another with our talents if we're really that rare?

This is just another puzzle I need to solve.

“Sweetie Belle,” Miss Cheerilee calls.

“Huh?” I shake my head to clear it so I can focus on her. “Yes, Miss Cheerilee?”

“Care to join us?” the teacher asks me in a playfully scolding tone. “You can read the next sentence on the board.” She looks at it herself. “Try to find where all the predicates are.”

“Yes, Miss Cheerilee,” I agree.

I hear a low amount of laughter from the rest of the class at my expense, but I know they are not really doing it to be strictly mean. Just like Miss Cheerilee, they also know why I occasionally get distracted and they also agree that it is important.

As I crawl out of my seat and trot to the front of my class, my face burns with a bit of embarrassment as the low amount of laughter continues to linger behind me. Despite how long this has been going on, I'm only just starting to get used to it. Doing it this often is starting to cause me to more quickly and accurately adapt.

For instance, in this case, I read across the sentences in front of me and I think I spot three predicates. As a result, I use my magic to levitate the chalk on the chalkboard and underline the predicates that I have located thus far.

Thank goodness I am so smart! Sometimes I need that extra leeway to compensate for the challenges in my life.

“Man! I'm so glad we got out of there!” Scootaloo cheers as she happily canters out of the red school building along with the rest of the foals. “Now we can pursue what we really like!”

“But . . . I thought you loved school and Miss Cheerilee,” I mope as I exit the school building along with my friends.

“Oh don't get me wrong,” Scootaloo quickly counters. “I do love school and our teacher, but not as much as Crusading.” She passes me a mischievous grin. “Admit it. You feel the same way.”

“Ah'm sure we all do,” Apple Bloom agrees as she stops between Scootaloo and I, leaning on my right side. “And Ah, for one, am look'n forward to getting on with Crusadering.” She looks at me. “Sweetie Belle, since yer thah most organized of us, mayhap ya give us a reminder of our day’s mission for today.”

“As I recall, it was quite a lot,” I mention as I float a scroll out of my saddlebag and unravel it before me. “That's partly why I've been mulling over ideas for it all day.

“Hmm. Let's see.” I study the scroll, then I sigh in a tone that is half exhaustion and half elation. “We do have a lot today. According to these notes, Pickle Barrel alone has nineteen items left on his Crusaders chart. Gold Rush has fifteen but she's deciding to wait for our next Cutie Mark Crusaders day camp.” I lower the floating scroll a bit so I can look between my two best friends. “You know, since that is less than a moon away.”

“Yeah, Ah've been given that some thought,” Apple Bloom notes as she scratches her head. “Ah know the day camp is excit'n and efficient 'n all, but we are runnin' a little low on supplies for it.” She shrugs. “Ma family can provide a lot of apples certainly, but even with all that, we'd eventually exhaust our potential list of activities.”

“What kinds of supplies are we low on?” Scootaloo asks curiously.

Apple Bloom shrugs again as she looks at Scootaloo while answering, “The usual stuff. Paper, pens, pencils, paint, cooking supplies, party supplies. The list goes on.”

At first Scootaloo has a contemplative look to her face as if formulating a plan on how to get those supplies but, as Apple Bloom continued the list, her looks shifts to flustered as she obviously looks overwhelmed.

“Wow! We never had this much trouble when it was just the three of us,” Scootaloo muses.

“Yeah, but we're working with a much larger client base now,” I remind my friends. “That is going to use considerably more supplies.”

“And Ah don't have much left in ma piggie bank,” Apple Bloom complains with a mopey expression as she absently kicks a stone away.

“It was inevitable that we'd eventually gallop into this problem eventually,” I mention as I magic the scroll back into a roll in front of me. “We're going to need a bigger budget, girls. We're working with a true and legitimate business.”

“Yeah, but foals can hardly pay big bills,” Scootaloo reminds.

“Maybe not money per se,” Apple Bloom says as she looks upward and taps her bottom chin with her right hoof, “but they can provide a service.” She grins cunningly. “And that juz gave me an idea.” She looks between her friends. “We could make fundraising a Crusader camp activity!”

“Yeah!” Scootaloo cheers in strong agreement. “That way we can raise funds and promote cutie mark activities at the same time! That's genius!”

Apple Bloom bows as she says, “Why thank ye.”

“Money isn't the only form of payment other businesses can provide,” I put in. “Instead of paying us bits directly, maybe they can donate paint cans or cooking supplies instead. Likely at a discount as well. We help them sell their supplies and, in exchange, they donate to us the supplies we need. It's a win win!”

“Yeah!” the three of us cheer simultaneously.

I point between the two of them using my still floating scroll as I say, “That's not the only option we have at our disposal. About a fortnight ago, Diamond Tiara approached me while I was at my sister's shop and-”

“Excuse me,” Scootaloo interrupts with an upraised hoof. “A what now?”

For a moment I blink in confusion as I analyze what I said in an attempt to figure out perplexed my friend. In the end, I guess, “Are you asking what a 'fortnight' is?”

Scootaloo nods as she confirms, “Yeah.”

I lower my eyelids halfway towards her as I answer, “It means 'two weeks'.”

Scootaloo shrugs as she complains, “Then why didn't you just say that?” She sighs as she rolls her eyes, then mutters under her breath, “I swear, you really are a dictionary sometimes.”

“Anyhoo,” I say with a half roll of my eyes, “Diamond Tiara approached me about two weeks ago and offered a business proposal.”

“About what?” Apple Bloom asks me curiously.

I lightly shrug as I say, “In a nutshell, Miss Tiara predicted we'd be having this problem a long time ago. She agrees that we are providing an invaluable service but she also realized the demand would eventually outweigh our ability to supply it, especially on a financial front. Accordingly, she was offering some financial backing but she has several conditions.”

“What sort of 'conditions'?” Scootaloo asks cautiously while narrowing one eye slowly with obvious suspicion.

“Basically, she wants to be our club’s treasurer,” I answer. “Also she wants to run our club activities like a business in a more official capacity. That means charging money.”

“Foals can't pay that much. I just said that a minute ago,” Scootaloo reminds.

“And as Ah just said, there are a few ways around that,” Apple Bloom also reminds.

“It is likely Miss Tiara is aware of that,” I put in, “but service is certainly a legitimate form of currency.”

“Why is she interested in our club’s financial activities all of the sudden?” Scootaloo asks with continued suspicion.

“According to her, it is a way to repay us for helping her. She also sees our services as something that no pony else is providing. On top of that, she claims she's trying to prove something to herself and her parents. She wants to show that she does, indeed, have the skills to promote, maintain and expand a business like ours. If she does this, she gains invaluable experience which she can use to one day take over her own families business, and you have to admit . . . it is a lot to manage.

“On top of all this, she seems confident she can gain Silver Spoon's support in this too. After all, her oldest and best friend tends to follow her in whatever endeavor Diamond pursues.”

“Which is an initiative that could be valuable for Silver Spoon as well,” Scootaloo realizes. “Not to mention that far be it for me to argue against the value of joining in on a project with best friends. I mean . . . we do it all the time.”

“That was a clunky sentence,” I lightly complain.

“Yeah.” Scootaloo shrugs. “But you know what I mean.”

Apple Bloom sighs a little before saying, “Ah'm a little uncomfortable with this prospect. Ah always preferred to picture us as a community charity service. The moment big money starts getting thrown into the mix, it ma'ight also invite some corrupting things.”

“But if we had more money, or at least more supplies, we could help even more ponies,” Scootaloo puts in. “Is that worth it?”

“I think we're mature enough to know the difference between helping other ponies and pure greed,” I reassure. “I think our cause remains pure as long as we maintain our Crusader's spirit.

“And let's face it, girls; as our operation expands, we're going to gallop into more and more logistical problems. Learning how to solve them now will help us as we grow into full adult mares. This strategy also provides us with important contacts. We might even expand our circle of friendship.”

I look between the two fillies in front of me as I go on to say, “The three of us will always be the core founders of the C-M-C, but are either of you really averse to expanding our personnel and social circle?”

“'The More, the Merrier' isn't juz an empty slogan among ma family,” Apple Bloom mentions. “Often others can feel so close to us, we call them honorary family members too.

“Ah remember what ma big sister said when the Flim/Flam brothers first threatened to take over our farm. When we needed help and Mayor Mare asked us if we'd welcome extra help from our closest friends, ma big sister said, and I quote, 'I think I'd love to have the rest of my family helping out.' That was exactly what she say'id. Ah remember it word for word.”

I see Scootaloo grimace in anger at the reminder of what the Flim/Flam brothers almost did to our best friend's family that day. I honestly can't blame her for her feelings because I also share the sentiment.

“Well, anyway,” Scootaloo begins as if trying to clear her head of the last topic, “what Diamond is proposing sounds interesting, but can we tackle this later? We still got a few clients to take care of today.”

“Including a new client,” I add as I unravel the scroll and look upon it again. “A donkey named Slow Poke wants an interview with us today and help him establish . . . well . . . he wasn't specific about that yet but I'm sure we'll find out when we meet him later on today.”

“A new client,” Apple Bloom muses with a half-grin. “A new journey and challenge awaits us. Ah can't wait to get started.”

“Yeah!” the three of us cheer together again. This time we also slap our hooves together high above us which, to us, is either a pact to accept a new challenge or congratulations for completing the last one.

Then, because we feel energized by our new and renewed enthusiasm, the three of us break out into a new unrehearsed song together.

“We are the Cutie Mark Crusaders

breaking into a new scene.

We got the moves.

We got the mojo.

We're never running out of steam.

Together we fight, and together we win.

We will last throughout this jour-ney

And we'll do it with a proud grin.”

Apple Bloom and I hop into Scootaloo's wagon. Scootaloo, in turn, hops on her scooter, seems to rev up her wings for a moment, then we blast off on a course towards our clubhouse as we continue to sing in unison.

“As we gallop to glor-ry

there's no cause we will fail

We cruise on in a new adven-ture

on a friendship that will always saaaaaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiil.”

As we pass Miss Cheerilee, she ad-libs a few verses in our spontaneous song as ponies often do.

“I remember like it was yes-terday when their flanks were still bare.

By guiding them in their jour-ney, the glory we did all share.

I still gaze at them proudly as they grow to be mares.

Encourage us, they do, as they follow our prayers.”

As we pass her, Diamond Tiara sings the next few verses of our song.

“Empty I was until they showed me a better way.

Together we win, and together we stay.

The liiiiiiiiiiiiiiight of friendship keeps shining ever bright in me.

Wherever they go next, I am eager to see.”

Diamond's adjacent friend, Silver Spoon, breaks the mojo of the song just a bit by simply saying and not singing, “Yeah. Totally.”

Nearby them, Pipsqueak suddenly sings next.

“The Cutie Mark Crusaders brought out the confidence in me.

I'm not the same pony because of what I learned from those three.

From the roads, to the playground, I continue to stand tall.

Because of what I learned from them, I will neh-ver feel small.”

Now everypony in the area sang together in unison.

“The Cutie Mark Crusaders,

Hurrah . . . Hurrah!

They'll never stop inspiring,

Hooray . . . Hooray.

They venture on, and venture away.

They'd always give us the time of day.

To Cutie Mark Crusaderrrrrrrrrrrrrrrs,

our pride is here to stay.”

Now I sing:

“It's been such a long journey since we started so long ago.”

Scootaloo sings:

“And ever since that time, there's one thing we always know.”

Apple Bloom sing:

“And that is our friendship will always grow, grow, grrrrrrrrroooooooow.”

As we continue our way down the road, other ponies pick up the song, including lyics sung before them, unbeknownst to them.

“The Cutie Mark Crusaders,

Hurrah . . . Hurrah!

They'll never stop inspiring,

Hooray . . . Hooray.

They venture on, and venture away.

They'd always give us the time of day.

To Cutie Mark Crusaderrrrrrrrrrrrrrrs,

our pride is here to stay.”

The orange hide earth pony stallion with purple mane, Tender Taps, sings:

“When I couldn't face a stage, the Crusaders spurned me try.

It took so much courage, but in the spotlight, I'm no longer shy.”

The gray pegasus stallion Chip Cutter sings:

“They see inner potential, like I do with stone.

By learning from their lessons, I feel as if I've grown.”

The dull yellow earth pony filly with two shades of pink mane and tail, Kettle Corn, sings:

“I learned something new,

They taught me to sing Haiku.

So I like them too.”

Out of a bush, a huge and bulky white pegasus stallion, Bulk Biceps, springs onto the road and shouts out, “THE CUTIE MARK CRUSADERS ARE TOTALLY YEEEEEEEAAAAH!!! THEY ARE TOTALLY AWESOME!”

For breaking the groove and springing out unexpectedly, everypony momentarily stops, including Scootaloo. Everypony stares at Bulk Biceps which makes him cringe with embarrassment.

“Uh, I mean . . . THE CUTIE MARK CRUSADERS! HURRAH!!” he attempts to spur with painful shyness.

Everypony looks at each other, shrugs, then sings on.

“The Cutie Mark Crusaders,

Hurrah . . . Hurrah!

They'll never stop inspiring,

Hooray . . . Hooray.

They venture on, and venture away.

They'd always give us the time of day.

To Cutie Mark Crusaderrrrrrrrrrrrrrrs,

our pride is heeeeeeereee

toooooooooooooo . . . . . staaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay.

. . . .

HOORAY!”

Author's Note

In case you are curious, that is a mostly original song I made up. The tempo, style, and theme seem in line to me with a typical episode for the show.

While I am not making it too clear when the story happens yet, this chapter does help to reveal that the CMC are maturing and, as a result, need to consider more issues if they are going to stay in business and hopefully also expand someday. This chapter also puts an emphasis on Sweetie's school life and what it means to her.

Chapter 4: The New Client

“Hoo'wee!” Apple Bloom exasperates as she rushes into the Cutie Mark clubhouse. “That sure was a doozy of an afternoon. We got four activities done in one afternoon, girls!” she cheers.

“Yeah. Too bad Pickle Barrel added six more to his Crusader chart during this afternoon,” Scootaloo laments as she came in and joined Apple Bloom in the clubhouse.

“It's all part of the process, girls,” I say as I join my Cutie Mark sisters. When I do, I magic the door shut behind me then float my saddlebag over and hang it on a saddlebag hanger. “Sometimes one can't think of all of their interests all at once. It takes doing other activities to inspire somepony to think of something else. Remember how it used to be for us?”

“Hoo'wee! Ah sure do,” Apple Bloom assures as she moves behind a podium then turns to face the rest of us. From there, she drapes her forelegs over the podium which has the CMC logo in front of it. “An' Ah also remember what it was like to venture forward while that uncertainty always hung over our heads. Our clients are discovering their destiny much faster thanks to our support. We had to figure it out from scratch.”

“Speaking of which,” Scootaloo looks from Apple Bloom to me, “I'm getting pretty tired but I still got some energy left in me. What's next for us to do?”

“Well, let's see.” I look at my saddlebag and float my notes to me from it. I read it first before announcing, “Um . . . we've got one more client to deal with for today and, don't worry, this one will be easy. All we have to do is interview this new client.” I lower my notebook and gaze at my club sisters over it. “So no more galloping around. We got a break from that for the rest of the evening.”

“Whew! That's a relief,” Scootaloo says gratefully. “And, say . . . wasn't it a donkey? You did say that earlier, right?”

“Uh . . . yeah. His name is Slow Poke,” I remind.

“Well,” Scootaloo says with a shrug as she transfers her look from me to Apple Bloom, “I guess a cutie mark specifically is out. I have to say, we don't get too many non-pony clients.”

“Gabby was our first,” Apple Bloom reminds. “That was quite a challenge because she really was after a cutie mark.”

“Yeah, but we learned a lot from that adventure,” Scootaloo says as she slowly looks down. “Just because we can't give them a real cutie mark, doesn't mean we can't help them with their life's purpose.” She whips her head at me as she suddenly asks, “How old is Slow Poke anyway?”

“You're about to find out,” I answer her. “He's due to arrive at any moment now.

“Um, by the way,” I add, “after this interview, I need to take off for a bit. Actually, the rest of the evening. I'm, ah . . . ‘interviewing’ some other pony at the McMilkshake store.”

Apple Bloom grew a mischievous grin as she says, “Interview, huh? Is that what other foals are calling it these days? Last Ah checked, an 'interview' with a colt-friend at a place like that is called a 'date'.”

My shy blush must have betrayed my feelings even though I attempt to hide behind my notepad.

“Oh my gosh, it's true!” Scootaloo realizes. Now she gains the same mischievous grin. “Some pony has a very special somepony!”

Then Apple Bloom and Scootaloo tease me simultaneously by saying in unison, “Sweetie Belle has a crush! Sweetie Belle has a crush!”

“Oh, wait a second!” Scootaloo appears to realize something. “It's Button Mash, isn't it? I've seen the way you two look at each other in school, especially during recess. You've been over to his house a few times too, I think.”

“Well . . . yeah,” I admit shyly. “He's cute and I'm really curious how far this relationship could go.”

“Ya really like him that much, Sweetie Belle?” Apple Bloom asks with a curious tilt of her head.

“Well, that and the mere idea of being in a relationship,” I answer as I float my notebook back into my saddlebag. “To me, it's one step closer to maturity.”

“Now Sweetie Belle,” Apple Bloom says in the kind of lecture tone that often annoys her when her own big sister does it to her, “ya do know that a real relationship ain't lah'k the stories from your fairy-tail books, don't'cha? Ah seen the way ma big brother and Sugar Belle dated each other. Ah swear, probably more than half the stuff that they did has gone way over ma head, but one thing Ah do know is it ain't lah'k the stories.”

“Oh, I know,” I assure, “but it's a start. Those fairytales are very inspiring to me. I like the romance of it all.”

“Ah juz want to make sure ya know what ya're in for,” Apple Bloom cautions. “Colts live in very different worlds. They are likely to surprise ya, an' Ah don't want to see ya get hurt because yo expectations are either too high or too different.”

Scootaloo shrugs then jokes, “Hey, if worse comes to worst, we can always make you a love potion.”

“Ew! No!” Apple Bloom fiercely rejects.

“No thank you,” I also reject, “although, I must admit, I have been curious to know what that is like over the years.”

“Really?!” Scootaloo asks me in sharp surprise.

“Big Mac and Miss Cheerilee seemed really happy during the effects of the potion,” I put in. “I admit their attitude during it was icky and schmaltzy, but from an emotional context, I've always wondered what it must have felt like. Even if a feeling is artificial, do you think being stuck in happiness is really such a bad thing?”

“Is it real happiness?” Apple Bloom wonders as she looks cornerwise up. “Both Miss Cheerilee and ma big brother seem upset at us whenever they get the reminder of the experience. Does that mean they were actually unhappy during the experience and they just couldn't express it?”

“The fact you have to ask means part of you is curious too,” I point out, “because neither of us knows for sure.”

“We could ask them,” Scootaloo proposes with a shrug. “What it's like, I mean. That would be much safer rather than making another love potion.”

“Regardless of that,” Apple Bloom says with a tone of insistence as she pounds the podium with a hoof once, “Ah don't plan on ev'ah making another love poison! That kind of power is just too dangerous.”

“I wasn't planning on drinking such a thing either,” I tell my friends. “For now, I plan on falling in love the old fashioned way and see if I can-”

I am interrupted by a knock on the door.

“That should be 'im,” Apple Bloom figures. “The new client.”

I glance at a clock at the corner of our clubhouse which is shaped like an apple. The frame is made of real applewood, too. After I note the time, I agree, “Yep. That should be him.”

“Well,” Scootaloo waves at me. “Open it. You're the closest anyway, and besides, you got your horn.”

“Sure. No problem,” I gladly accept as I turned to look at the front entrance then use my magic to open the door.

Sure enough, a middle-aged gray donkey with sagging cheeks lingers beyond the front entrance.

“Permission to come in?” our new client, Slow Poke, requests politely but also with a slow inflection.

“Sure! Come on in,” we gladly invite simultaneously.

“Thank you,” Slow Poke accepts and trudges on in. As he does so, we note the slow pace he uses along his way in, but none of us are rude enough to point that out yet.

“Welcome, Slow Poke, to the headquarters of the Cutie Mark Crusaders!” Apple Bloom announces cheerfully. “C-M-C for short.”

“Thank you for seeing me,” Slow Poke announces slowly.

“So Slow Poke . . . how old are you?” Scootaloo asks curiously.

Unexpectedly, Slow Poke shrugs before answering, “I don't know, but late into the second decade.”

“Hmm.” Scootaloo has a thoughtful look on her face for a moment before asking, “What kind of work did you do before coming to us, Mister Slow Poke?”

“I worked as a plum farmer in Mustangia,” Slow Poke answers.

“Oh really?!” Apple Bloom asks with bright interest. “What a coincidence! Ma family an' Ah work as apple farmers here in Ponyville.”

“You do?” Slow Poke asks while narrowing one eye at Apple Bloom. “But . . . I thought this was your job?”

“Ah can do both,” Apple Bloom answers. “Ah 'elp out on the farm every once in a while. Ah'm also a student here in Ponyville.”

“Wow! You do a lot!” Slow Poke slowly says as he also blinks slowly.

“So how much do you enjoy being a plum farmer?” Scootaloo checks.

Slow Poke shrugs as he says, “It pays the bills.

“Actually, to be honest, it's a pretty good life because it is safe and stable. It is hard work, but it's very routine, and I like routines. I like the feeling of accomplishing something and I like the feeling like I'm far from danger. The work I do can be truly permanent. I can do this for the rest of my life. It's cozy. It's secure. There's hardly anything to complain about.”

The three of us glance at each other in confusion then look back at Slow Poke in unison. Between us, I'm the first to ask, “So . . . why did you come to us, the C-M-C's? Usually those who come to us feel lost in some way, like they don't know what they are supposed to do for a living.”

Slow Poke looks down with a long, slow sigh, then says, “I'm not entirely sure myself, but there's been an anxious feeling that has built within me over the years. A feeling that keeps me wondering if I should be doing more with my life. The life I've had so far is safe and comfortable. I don't have to question if I can keep on doing it, because I most certainly can.

“But . . . is it enough? Is my potential deeper? Does it even need to be?”

He lifts his gaze back up and looks across the three of us as he says, “Years ago, when I first heard rumors of an organization like you three have, a deep part of me thought, 'You know, that sounds like a good idea! I should go see these Cutie Mark Crusaders so they can help me determine if there's something more I should do with my life.' But I didn't do it. I looked across my life, determined there was no critical reason to change anything, so I shrugged it off at the time.

“But I noticed, as the years went by, I kept asking myself these questions almost daily.Is this enough, or should I be doing more? Am I worth more?

“It's painful to me to consider the fact I might have latent, untapped potential. It's even worse to wonder if I even have untapped potential at all. If the answer is no, why do I keep asking myself these questions? Do I wish that I do? Is it a sign that I'm secretly unhappy with my life?

“You three are the Cutie Mark Crusaders. Your exploits in helping others find their true purpose in life are legendary. I came to you three because I'm tired of wondering. I'm tired of suffering from an unending question. It's time I finally got some straight answers.”

The three of us look at each other with a knowing grin. Clients come to us all the time and they often tell us a similar story. In response, there is a rhetoric we have to repeat to each one over and over again, but despite that, our excitement lingers because we remember the thrill of the journey towards self-discovery the first time.

After looking back and forth among each other, Scootaloo gives a questioning tilt of her head as if to silently ask, “Is it my turn to explain?”

Apple Bloom and I smile at her then give her an accepting nod. Scootaloo nods back once to show that she acknowledges our mutual decision before addressing our newest client.

“Mister Slow Poke, while it is true that we do have a knack for helping others find their true destiny, you need to understand that there is a process to this.” She applies a hoof to her chest as she expresses, “We merely help to guide others on their journey, but no pony . . . not even us, can determine what your destiny is for you. Instead, we can help you discover it for yourself.”

“Okay, so . . . how do we do that?” Slow Poke wonders.

“Well, first of all, before we can help you, we need to get to know each other, hence these interviews,” Scootaloo explains. “Sometimes the answer is simple and we can help you in a few minutes. Other times it is a long and involved process. If it gets to that, we typically proceed forward with a good old fashion Crusader's chart.”

Slow Poke winces in confusion as he asks, “What's that? Some kind of treasure map?”

“In a way,” I explain which causes him to turn his head and focus on me. “The 'map' is a map of your life, Mister Slow Poke, and the buried treasure is the answer to your question.”

“But, basically,” Apple Bloom puts in which draws his attention towards the yellow hide earth pony, “it is a chart listing all the activities ya'd like to try. As ya proceed through the list, we steadily cross out each activity that ya've tried an’ didn’t find satisfying fer some reason.”

“So it's a trial and error process,” Slow Poke figures.

“Exactly!” the three of us cheer simultaneously.

“How do you three keep doing that?” Slow Poke wonders, perplexed. “That's the second time you did that since I got here. Do you three have some kind of hive-mind going?”

“Ah . . . no. We're just very, very good friends that think alike in many regards,” Scootaloo answers. “Sometimes we're really in sync with each other and that's awesome!”

“Huh.” Slow Pokes droopy ears seem to droop further. “Must be nice to have such close friends.”

“It certainly is!” Apple Bloom cheers at first, but then asks more somberly, “Ah take it that you don't have anyone too special in your life?”

“Not as close as you three, no,” Slow Poke confirms. “At least, I don't think so.”

“Anyone you're interested in?” I ask with interest.

“A few perhaps,” he answers with a nonchalant shrug.

“Well, regardless if you find your destiny or not, Mister Slow Poke, it's still great to share your life with close friends,” Scootaloo assures. “Take it from us. We are very happy and proud of our relationship together.”

“Yeah. That sounds nice,” Slow Poke admits with happiness for us mixed with envy. Deciding to change the subject, he asks us, “So . . . do you three think you can help me?”

“You said you lived in Mustangia?” Apple Bloom double checks.

“Yes Ma'am,” Slow Poke confirms politely.

“That's quite the distance, Mister,” Apple Bloom says with a thoughtful expression, then focuses on their new client again as she asks him, “How long can ya stay in Ponyville?”

“Eh,” he shrugs. “I have no fixed plans yet.”

“Do ya have a place to stay during yer stay in Ponyville?” Apple Bloom continues to probe.

“The inn, I think,” Slow Poke figures. “Not sure if you have one, but if you do, I got a few bits to my name.”

“Which will help ya until ya run out of bits,” Apple Bloom figures. “Ah tell ya what. Why don't ya stay at our place? We can use another experienced farmer on the field.”

“Oh!” Slow Poke looks very surprised followed by bashful. “Well I, ah . . . don't wish to impose.”

“Think nothing of it!” Apple Bloom says cheerfully. “Ah tell ya what. Ya come stay at our place. We'll even provide the most delicious meals ya ever tasted, and ya can even keep yer bits. But, in exchange, ya help out on the apple farm. We teach ya our techniques. Maybe ya can show us a few of yers. Ya repay the room and board with labor. Then, because ye're still around, ya'll remain accessible to the three of us so we can help ya with answering yer question. How does that sound to ya?”

“Eh . . . I guess that could work if it's not too much trouble for the rest of your family,” Slow Poke figures cautiously.

“We, of the Apple family, sure do love making new fray'ends,” she assures brightly. “And, with yer previous farming experience, Ah'm sure we can help each other out.”

“I suppose that could work,” Slow Poke says with a shrug. “But I still feel like I'm imposing a little. Should I repay your kindness by helping you three with your work?”

The three of us blink in surprise at that proposal, for we don't get it very often. In fact, this might be the first time that offer came up directly.

We glance at each other in a moment of silent debate. We notice that, while the offer is unexpected, it might ultimately serve us with our primary mission with this client.

“If ya want to,” Apple Bloom offers to Slow Poke. “We can even add it to yer chart. Helping others with their destiny might even be yer destiny. We won't know till ya try it.”

“And it can be a lot of fun!” Scootaloo cheers then adds with a shrug, “At least, it is for us.”

“If you do develop a taste for this kind of work,” I bring up, “that provides us with a lot of important opportunities regarding our mutual future. After all, we have plans for our future that we're secretly afraid that we can't meet the demand. For instance, right now, our primary base is in Ponyville and, for the most part, we only help out clients in the local area.”

“But we were thinking of expanding our business someday,” Scootaloo resumes my point. “If and when we do, we definitely could use some help.”

“But only if ya are really up for it,” Apple Bloom quickly and firmly assures. “We don't wanna push anything on ya or nutt'in. We'll accept this only if ya are certain this is yer true calling.”

“You know, it seems to me you could do both,” I propose which draws Slow Poke's attention back to me. “Earlier you said that you like farm work because it is routine, safe, and comfortable, yet part of you wonders if you can do more. Well, why not both?” I ask with a shrug. “There's no rule that says that if you explore a new path you have to abandon the old one. Sometimes both can be pursued at the same time.”

“You really think I should?” Slow Poke checks.

“It's just a suggestion,” I quickly put in. “Take it as such. I only say this because you sound happy with your previous lifestyle for the most part. I think that is also why you hesitated for so long to come to us for help. You must have thought that exploring a new path means abandoning the old one by necessity. Well, I'm telling you now that is not necessarily true. You might be able to do both depending on what it is.”

“Yeah!” Apple Bloom agrees. “Just like me! Ah help out on the farm on occasion but Ah'm also a student and, on top of that, Ah do this work with ma fray'ends. It's tricky but there's room in one's life to juggle between various things.”

“That way you won't feel like you have to give up anything that's important to you,” Scootaloo adds. “If that is the source of your hesitation then we're telling you now that you don't have to take that big of a risk if you don't want to. You can expand on your potential and keep close to what was previously valuable to you at the same time!”

Slow Poke slowly looks at each of us one by one, ending on me. After that, he slowly grows a smile.

“You know, I must say, you three really do have a knack for this,” he says proudly. “I was nervous coming to you three at first and part of me even felt humiliated in approaching young fillies in particular. However, even after this short of an interview, I already feel better and more self-assured about my future. With your help, I'm sure we can find what's missing in my life.”

“Don't'cha worry about our age,” Apple Bloom assures Slow Poke. “We helped plenty of clients before. Just look at our wall of satisfied customers.” She gestures behind her at the wall of pictures. “Every one of them would gladly vouch for us and the work we've done for them. Ask them if ya don't believe us. We may be fillies, but we have hearts as strong as horses.”

A mischievous smile returns to Scootaloo's lips as she looks at me and proposes, “Sometimes it's not a something that is missing in our lives, but rather a someone.”

“You really think so?” Slow Poke asks her curiously.

“It can be,” Apple Bloom answers more seriously. “Fray'ends can be a very fulfilling aspect to one's life.” Now she flashes me a mischievous smile. “Especially if they also 'appen to be romantic partners.”

“Oh! You got a date?” Slow Poke checks with me, finally starting to catch on.

“That's it! I'm outta here!” I suddenly proclaim as I rise to my forehooves in frustration. “You all have teased me about this long enough.”

But when I notice Slow Poke's more innocent expression towards me, I decide to add to him, “My Crusader sisters do have a point. Sometimes when one is feeling like something is missing in our lives, it can be a person rather than a specific thing. Exploring romantic, or even just friendship interests, might be enough to feel fulfilled.” I regard Apple Bloom seriously. “Put that on the chart for Mister Slow Poke.”

“Ya got it,” Apple Bloom agrees. Shortly later she pulls out a sheet of paper and applies it on top of the podium using her mouth. After that, she pulls out some crayons, again with her mouth, then proceeds to draw on the paper.

“Don't you worry, Mister Slow Poke,” I assure him. “The Cutie Mark Crusaders are on the case, and there is nothing we can't hoofle together. We'll help you out. Count on it!”

“Yeah!” Scootaloo and I say together. After that, Apple Bloom spits out her crayon and echoes, “Yeah!” by herself.

Author's Note

Another moment of the "day of the life" for Sweetie, but this time focusing on a more specific aspect of her day. This is her following her passion and her work with her friends. In this case, the introduction of a new client shows how they treat their cases from the very start. It's meant to give a specific example of their work, but since I posted an entire chapter focusing on this new OC character, I have plans to re-introduce him back into the story at least once for the purpose of advancing the main plot. Stay tuned for that.

Chapter 6: Cutie Map Mishap

There! That should do it. Not only did I find one book on home remedies, I found two. There could have been a third if it wasn't checked out already.

Once I register the check-out of both books, I float them into my saddlebag. When I do so, I realize it is a good thing I brought my saddlebag after all. Earlier I debated the point of bringing it to a dinner date, but I found I just couldn't part with it. That even seems to be more true as I get older. I'm tempted to call it a “growing up” thing, but the fact is many ponies wander about their daily routines without saddlebags. I'm not sure why. They really come in hoofy.

With my prize secure, I make my way out of Starlight's castle. As I proceed, I daydream about how proud and happy Button Mash and his mom will be that I helped out. I sure hope they will be grateful and they probably will be. Go me!

Along my way out, I notice Starlight Glimmer poke her head out the door of what used to be considered the main friendship counsel room of this castle. Despite my hurry, I decide to be polite by acknowledging her.

“Hey Starlight!” I say to her with a happy wave.

“Huh?” Starlight blinks at me in surprise. “Oh Sweetie Belle. This is a surprise considering how late it is tonight.”

“Yeeeeah,” I say slowly. “My parents probably are getting worried. The reason I'm up this late is a bit of a long story. No need to get into it,” I say with a dismissive wave of a hoof. During this time, I pause in the hallway long enough to converse with Starlight in order to make sure I don't pass her before I finish my point.

“Hmm.” Starlight narrows one eye at me as she gives me a thoughtful look. Whatever that thought is leads her to a bright conclusion. “Well, since you're here, do you mind lending me a hoof with a magic experiment?”

“Um . . . sure, but . . .” I linger on those words as I give a worried look towards the exit of the castle. After all, I'm doing an errand already. In this case, a pony’s health is at stake.

“It should only take a few minutes,” Starlight prompts on encouragingly, likely in response to my visible reluctance, though she shouldn't know why yet.

“I guess so,” I concede. “I love helping out ponies.” I almost take a step towards her but I pause when a thought occurs to me. With my right hoof still frozen in the mid-process of taking a step, I cautiously ask her, “Is the experiment safe? And will it require much magic on my part? Because, I have to warn you, I'm still a beginner as a sorceress. I'm nowhere near your level and probably never will be.”

Starlight shakes her head in denial as she proclaims, “No. This magic experiment won't require magical training on your part. In fact, it wouldn't require you to be a unicorn at all. As for dangerous, do you really think I would invite you into this experiment if I thought it was, in any way, dangerous for a young foal?” Before I can say anything, she continues with a dismissive wave of a hoof through the door as she says, “No, silly. No. In fact, if my project is successful, it may actually aid in the security of Equestria.”

“Well that sounds worthwhile!” I cheer. “What do I have to do?”

“Well, first of all, come in,” Starlight bids as she backs off but also gives a “come hither” gesture with a hoof. I proceed to do so. In doing so, I enter the room I expect to see, the friendship counsel room. All the chairs are still there and so is the Cutie Map.

Ah, the Cutie Map. That takes me back.

As I gaze across the room while following Starlight, I marvel at the seats themselves which each show a cutie mark symbol of each of the Elements of Harmony . . . plus an extra seat for Spike. That one is a smaller seat though since he was a baby dragon when this room was first formed. There's something about that seat that feels like an amused afterthought. It's the only chair that is blank. Looking upon that seat, I have to wonder what his cutie mark would have been if he was capable of attaining one. As I think about that one, it occurs to me that maybe it would have some symbolic reference to his loyalty to Twilight, for it is very hard to deny that his life somehow revolves around her.

“What are you doing up so late anyway?” Starlight asks when she arrives at the Cutie Map then spins about to face me.

I blush shyly as I admit, “Well, if you must know, I was going to have a dinner date with somepony that I am hoping will be my very special somepony.”

“Aw! That's cute!” Starlight coos with a giddy but also proud smile to me.

My ears fall a bit as I go on to say, “However, he didn't show up tonight.”

Her ears mimic my reaction as she says in disappointment, “Aw. That's too bad. Do you know what happened?”

“Yes. He's sick,” I explain.

Starlight widens her eyes at me slightly as she says in alarm, “That makes it even worse!” Then she goes on to say more calmly, “But at least this means he hadn't stood you up on purpose.”

I nod in agreement before I say, “It's also why I'm here. At his mother's request, I came here to check out some books on home remedies. She couldn't come because she needs to watch her son, and besides . . . she didn't want to risk spreading the cold to anypony else.”

“A wise precaution,” Starlight agrees. After that, her proud smile returns to her lips. “Ah, Sweetie Belle. You're so helpful.”

“I know,” I say matter-of-factly. “That's my thing.

“Sooooo,” my eyes wander the room, “what can I help you with tonight?”

“Well, actually, my experiment involves this thing,” Starlight explains as she looks at and even affectionately pats the Cutie Map. While her face still remains directed at the table, her eyes shift to look at me as she asks me, “As I'm sure you are aware, this map, and indeed this whole castle, was grown from the magic of harmony from the empowered Tree of Harmony.”

I nod as I say, “Yeah. I remember. It was exciting to look out my window and see this new castle out there. My excitement and sheer wonder were so intense that I couldn't breathe for a few moments.

“Then, shortly later, Scootaloo and Apple Bloom frantically knocked on my door. When I answered, they cried out excitedly,” I now mimic Scootaloo's voice as I repeat, “'Sweetie Belle, you got to come see this! Check this out!', to which I replied, 'Yeah, I know. I saw it out my window.”

Starlight nods at me knowingly as she says, “Good. Then I don't have to explain to you that this map and castle is an extension of the magic from the Tree of Harmony.

“Now, on to my next point. You are aware of what happened to the Tree of Harmony eventually, are you?”

“Yeah,” I answer with a disappointing expression. “King Sombra destroyed it, although I heard it partially grew back into a crystal tree house, not unlike this castle, but much smaller and way more pink.”

Starlight nods again as she says, “Right.” Her look returns to the table. “However, despite some recovery from the Tree of Harmony, this Cutie Map has never functioned again.”

“Yeah. That's disappointing,” I lament as I look at the table. “I remember one time when the map actually summoned both my friends and I to go to Mount Aris to help solve a friendship problem. Not only was that my first assignment from this magical map, but that was also the first time I got to see the beautiful mountain of Mount Aris.” I cast a pleasant sigh as I give a dreamy expression. “The peaks of Mount Aris have a place that has natural musical acoustics to it called Harmony Heights. I swear, if I didn't live in Ponyville with my friends or was needed here so frequently, I'd probably live up there. I can still easily see myself retiring up there, or at least visiting it again when I grow up.” I shake my head to clear the vision and blink at Starlight as I ask her, “Anyway, what's your point? Have you figured out a way to jump-start the Cutie Map again?”

“I've been trying for a long time now,” Starlight explains to me, “but I've recently been trying a new approach. This suggestion actually came from Sunburst. We refined it together.” Starlight pauses as she rubs the magic table affectionately. “What we've been trying to do is take a more limited approach to this project. At the same time, it may also expand upon its potential.” She looks at me. “This map is still connected to the Tree of Harmony and it seems connected to all living beings in Equestria. I don't know why it stopped sending us on friendship missions.

“Anyway, my new approach is to use my own magic and a spell that Sunburst and I have been devising together to tap into some of that latent connection energy and use it to summon the image of anyone we want.” She lifts a hoof. “But not for a friendship mission, mind you. Instead of that, I'm hoping to use this map as a means of magical location tracking.”

“Oh!” I express in amazement, then repeat, “Oh,” in a much more disturbed way. “But . . . wouldn't that be a massive invasion of privacy? I mean, with the ability to track anyone at any time . . . isn't that too much power for one pony to wield?”

“Not if it's hoofled responsibly,” Starlight counters. “I have no intention to use this map for frivolous purposes, but there are urgent circumstances where this kind of power is warranted. For example, we can use it to track down super villains or would-be super villains and stop them before they cause great harm, or at least stop them from causing further harm.”

“Oh.” I look back at the table. “That makes more sense.”

“There's more,” Starlight goes on to say. “We can also use this map to track down missing person cases. With this,” she pats the map, “we can find ponynapped victims or lost foals or what have you. Ponies or creatures who absolutely need our help. Creatures that would be grateful to be found. They'd appreciate us using this map for that purpose.”

“That also makes a lot of sense,” I agree again.

“Some security measures would have to take place if I can get this thing working to that effect,” Starlight adds. “Because you are right too. That kind of power needs to be hoofled carefully. I'd need to place a protective spell over it so that not just any creature can use it, especially those who intend to use it for foul harm.”

“Okay.” I nod in acceptance. “Have you had any luck with that so far?”

“At first, no,” Starlight admits. “Sunburst and I have been at this for quite a while, too. No matter what we try or the way we tweak our spell, this map refuses to function for us.” She looks back at me. “Until we tried another new approach. After all, this map is connected to all creatures using the magic of friendship and harmony. Sunburst and I had no luck with this map while we focused on utilitarian purposes.” She looks up. “Which makes me wonder . . . I once used this map to travel through time because I was aware it was a powerful link to all things across Equestria.” Starlight looks forward above my head. “However, ever since then, it seems as if security measures have already been stepped up regarding this map. I thought Twilight was the cause of it until I wrote her a letter about it. She replied that she did no such thing, but rather laments that she didn't think of it before.”

I giggle a little bit due to that comment.

“Anyway,” she looks back at the map, “when Sunburst and I attempted to use our emotions to attempt to summon the image of a cutie mark or anypony that we specifically care about and have deep connections within our hearts, we finally got this magic map working.”

“That's great!” I cheer.

“But to a very limited degree,” Starlight is quick to add as she looks back at me. “So far, the only targets we succeeded to summon on this map are those we have a very deep and personal connection to.” Starlight nods once. “Considering the kind of magic that empowers this map, that makes sense. However, if you think about it, that severely limits the end results. It means we cannot use this map to show the location of anypony or any creature that we don't have a deep personal connection with. If that is the only way it works, then the only way to find missing persons’ cases is to also locate some creature that has a deep connection to the lost one, bring that person here, then I cast the spell while that other person focuses on the one they love.

“At least, that is the theory, and that is why I've brought you here.” She looks back at the map. “Sunburst and I have used the map for this purpose over and over again and it seems to work for the two of us rather well.” She looks back at me. “The next step is to see if some other pony can use this map to focus on somepony they care about while I cast the spell, rather than the caster always being the one to summon a target.”

“I see,” I say in a tone of realization. “If only you or Sunburst can use this table then your spell would have a very limited usefulness indeed.”

“Well,” Starlight gives a half shrug. “I do have a lot of friends that I care about. With this map, I can already track down you, your parents, your sister Rarity, and in fact all of the Elements of Harmony, including Princess Twilight. Princesses have a reputation for being ponynapped but with this thing,” she pats the table again, “we now have a safeguard. No matter where the ponynappers try to take Twilight, we'll have the means to find her. In the process, we'll likely also find out who is responsible and take action against the ponynappers.”

“That sounds super useful,” I admit.

“But if I can get somepony like you, or any other for that matter, to focus on their feelings in order to change the target to somepony that might be a stranger to me, then that would expand the potential of this strategy.”

“And I have lots of friends, too,” I announce proudly.

“Exactly,” Starlight concurs. “Right now all I want to do is find out if you can use it in choosing a target for the map. As for myself, I'll simply concentrate on the spell and nothing else. If I do not focus on a target and a cutie mark appears on the map anyway then I'll know it's from you.”

I nod as I say, “That makes sense and is a very worthwhile goal.

“But, ah, Starlight . . . do you ever think you can get this map started again on friendship problems?”

“I think that one depends on the Tree of Harmony,” she answers. “I can't put my hoof on this for sure, but it seems to me like the Tree of Harmony lost its previous memories. Sure, it's grown again, but it's like it's been reborn and learning anew. If I'm right, it will need time to get re-acquainted with every creature in Equestria. Once that happens, it could start warning us of friendship problems again.”

“Is there anyway we can help?” I ask hopefully.

“Something tells me you are already helping,” Starlight tells me a bit cheerfully. “Anything you do, or anyone else for that matter, which promotes friendship and harmony likely strengthens the Tree again. So, in other words, just continue doing what you're doing and be yourself. That's the finest advice I can give you at this moment in pursuit of that project.”

“Okay!” I say cheerfully. “I can hoofle that.”

“In the meantime,” she pats the table, “are you ready to help me test if you can choose the target for this map?”

“Sure!” I reply so enthusiastically that my voice squeaks for a moment.

“Alright!” Starlight cheers. “That's what I like to hear.

“Okay, for that, I want you to stand right here next to the table. Meanwhile I'll . . .” she pauses as she uses her magic to teleport to the other side of the table with a pop of magical sparkles. “. . . cast the spell from over here.”

“Does our position around the table actually matter?” I check.

“I don't think so,” Starlight answers doubtfully, “but I want to keep my distance just to be sure. Also, from this position, you are directly across from me so I can observe you better.”

“And does that matter?” I check again.

“Right now I'm trying to gather data so I want to be as thorough as possible. Remember, this is an experiment. It's important, during the early phases of experimentation, to observe and gather as much information as one can.”

“That makes sense,” I agree. “So what do I do?”

“I'll trot you through this process,” Starlight answers. “Just do everything I tell you to do, and don't worry . . . it won't be dangerous or hard.

“The first step is for me to cast my spell.”

Starlight proceeds to do so. She whirls her head around as magic gathers into her horn. From there, that magical shine spreads out and encompasses the whole table. The light especially intensifies at six points around the table. Each point is right in front of a chair that leads to one of the members of the Elements of Harmony. After that, laser lines connect between each of the six points around the table. Together, it kind of looks like a star.

As she continues her work, I think back to the rumors I heard about how the Pillars of Destiny once formed the initial seeds for the Tree of Harmony. Of them, it was Star Swirl the Bearded who used the magic the most proficiently. Supposedly he was able to use this table for purposes no pony was previously aware of, but it occurs to me that quite some time has passed since his return. That is enough time to interview the mighty and legendary sorcerer to not only find out what else he can do with this map, but also determine how he did it. Of the ponies that I'm aware of who have a chance to match the potential of the legendary sorcerer, Starlight Glimmer is one of them.

I smile at her proudly. It feels so good and comforting to notice how we have such a gifted spell caster in our town.

Incidentally, Twilight is the other sorceress who might be able to match the potential of the legendary sage. She is the Element of Magic after all. I didn't see it personally, but this town knew she had uncanny potential when she tamed and peacefully got rid of that ursa minor that attacked this town near the time she first arrived.

Wow! So much has happened since then.

“Okay, Sweetie Belle, do it now,” Starlight instructs me from across the table. “Think of somepony you care about. Any will do, but for now, I want you to focus on only one. Let's keep this simple for our initial test.”

“Okay,” I say back a little shyly. After that, it occurs to me I should have spent my time considering which target.

The first ones to spring to my mind is the other members of the Cutie Mark Crusaders. They've been my closest and best friends for many years. I have a very deep connection with them. So deep is it that we even share very similar cutie marks and we got them at the same time.

But the problem with them is Starlight said I should focus on only one pony for now and it's too hard to choose between them. Focusing on either one of them over the other feels like favoritism and my heart just can't accept that.

Next, I briefly consider my parents but I quickly realize I have the same problem there. They are a couple. They should be chosen together if either one of them is picked.

After that, I consider my sister Rarity. I love her dearly, but unlike all the previous candidates, I can see Rarity standing alone in my heart unless I associate her as a member of the Elements of Harmony. Her friends should be included in that social circle, but for me, she will always be my favorite Element and I don't feel too guilty about that.

I almost go with that target until another rather suddenly and intrusively comes to the forefront of my mind.

Button Mash.

It makes some sense. After all, he's been the target of my thoughts and feelings all night. First because of our potential date, second because of my disappointment over the fact he didn't show up, and lastly due to my concern for his health. Even now, as I linger here and attempt to help Starlight with her worthy and very interesting experiment, a strong part of my mind and heart stray to Button Mash anyway. It's probably because I know I have unfinished business with him. It is very likely I will not be able to sleep peacefully tonight until I deliver those books of home remedies to his mom. I have to know that I did everything I could to help him out.

The rest is fate and I can accept that.

Since I cannot easily focus on another target tonight and Starlight wants me to focus on somepony I care about, I realize I might as well focus on him. After all, the sooner I get this over with, the sooner I can take greater measures to help him out.

I can help two ponies with one thought! Go me! I'm so smart!

So I do it. I focus all of my thoughts and feelings on Button Mash. While I do so, I'm not sure how strongly I need to focus on him so, for now, I try to focus on him with all my might.

“Yes. That's it, Sweetie Belle,” Starlight encourages. “Keep it up. It's working.”

As I concentrate, it occurs to me that I haven't announced to Starlight whom I chose, but I suspect that doesn't matter. Starlight simply wanted me to focus on some pony that I care about. Who could be more appropriate than my very special somepony?

Besides, if this works, she'll find out whom I was thinking about anyway since his cutie mark should appear on the map. In this case, I also happen to know where he is, too, so that should help me to confirm if the map found him accurately or not. That's another tidbit of data worth gathering.

Through my closed eyes, I still catch a brief flash of light. I crack my eyes open enough to notice the fact that the laser lines between the six points around the table have since transformed into a solid column of light about six feet tall. That light shimmers a rainbow spectrum of colors like an aurora borealis.

Ooo! How pretty!

I wish I can dwell on this, but I need to concentrate.

I close my eyes again and resume focusing all my thoughts and feelings on Button Mash.

The first time I went to his home was during a cutie mark consultation. At the time I wasn't alone and the visit was strictly for business. It's funny to think about how things can later develop from such humble beginnings.

Button used to annoy me a little. He seemed so childish and into strange things that I used to have no interest in but, during that meeting, I forced myself to care in order to understand him better which, in turn, might lead me to help him discover his cutie mark. That later turned into a relationship that simply felt fun. It's actually hard to tell when I crossed a line into something more serious.

Yeah. It really is hard to think about when it happened. It feels almost as hard as trying to think back and recall when I first started thinking in words.

“There it is! I see it!” Starlight calls out triumphantly. “Great job, Sweetie Belle.

“Okay, now you can stop concentrating. I'll release my spell and-”

The table flashes. A mighty magic boom explodes from the table. I feel a force try to knock me back but, for some reason, I don't launch back. Instead, I hold my place.

No. I take that back. I'm starting to float in the air!

“What?!” Starlight cries out in alarm. “This shouldn't be happening!”

“Starlight, I'm floating in the air!” I cry out to her. “Let me down!”

“I'm trying,” Starlight calls back. “But I . . . I can't seem to cut off my spell.”

On the other side of the table and through the shifting colors of light, I see Starlight struggling to move. She attempts to yank her head from side to side. She partially succeeds, but magic continues to flow from her horn. Now I realize, with horror, that this is happening involuntarily.

“What's happening?!” I cry out fearfully. “Starlight . . . I'm scared!”

“Hold on Sweetie Belle!” Starlight cries out to reassure me. “I'll figure this out. I . . .”

Starlight trails off when new things start happening. For one, Button Mash's cutie mark, which is a D-pad of a video game controller, in this case, floats away from what seems to be his home on the map, notably his accurate location. However, after that, his cutie mark expands and grows much larger as it seems to now hover all over the image of Ponyville. It eventually expands to encompass the circumference of the entire map.

During this time, a weird green flame-like aura starts to engulf me.

“Starlight . . . help!” I cry out fearfully.

“What is going on?!” Starlight asks frantically. “This shouldn't be happening!”

“What is happening?” I ask in the same tone.

“I don't know!' Starlight replies.

“SWEEEEEEEEEEETIEE BEEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLEEEE!” very loudly calls out Button Mash's voice with a weird and haunting ethereal echo to it. Shortly after that, his cutie mark shrinks and floats closer to the map again except, for some reason, it relocates to somewhere in the Everfree Forest.

During that time the strange green flame completely engulfs me. I feel myself burning and changing. Magic tingles all throughout my body, including my innards. I don't know what's happening to me but I'm afraid for my life and Button Mash's.

“STOP IT!” Starlight cries out. “This isn't supposed to happen. STOP IIIIIIIT!”

A new light explodes from Starlight's horn. It seems as if she changed her strategy. It's as if she failed to cut off her flow of magic from her horn so she added something to the enchantment instead. Whatever it is, it destabilized the whole process which is likely her intention.

A violent explosion of light booms from the table. This time it really does send me flying and crashing into the wall away from the table. From there I sink to the ground in a heap.

My perception blurs quite a bit after that. I am probably very close to losing consciousness but, in this case, I fight it. I eventually succeed, too.

A dim glow continues to radiate from the Friendship Map. For the moment, it is the only reason I can see anything in the room. That, and the fact that the purple crystal that this castle is made of well reflects and refracts any light source within it and outside of it. I note that this room should be brighter but the enchanted glowing crystals along the walls have ceased to function for some reason. The glow off the table really is the only source of illumination now.

I try to add to the illumination using my own horn. I do succeed, but it does it in a way I do not expect. Instead of my usual light green color, which matches my eyes, I get a dark green instead. It is a sickly-looking color.

''What the-” I exclaim in surprise before I examine myself. What greets my eyes startles me even more. Instead of my usual white hide, it is reversed to pitch black. Not only that, but there are now holes in my legs. I seem severely injured in that area except no blood leaks out from them.

“Ug. Sweetie Belle?” Starlight groans as she struggles to crawl back up. “Are you okay? Answer me!”

“What . . . what have you . . .” I start to say but trail off again when I notice my voice has dramatically changed. Instead of the squeaky young voice I have as a foal, it now sounds deep, older, and masculine. “What have you done to me?” I whine.

“Whoa!” Starlight grows startled. “Who is that? Who is there? Show yourself!” Starlight demands because she can't recognize my voice as me either. “Are you responsible for what happened to us? Answer me!”

I squeeze my eyes tight as I cringe painfully.

This is not happening! This is not happening! I must be dreaming again. Or it might be that nightmare I keep waking up from.

This has to be a dream. Wake up, wake up, wake up Sweetie Belle!

“Oh my goodness!” Starlight exclaims. “Who are you?”

I open my eyes again and peer back at Starlight to double-check if she is looking in my direction or not.

And yep. She is.

“Starlight, I . . .” I begin in a small voice.

“WHO ARE YOU?!” Starlight demands. “ANSWER ME! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH SWEETIE BELLE?!”

Tears blur my vision. During this time I inwardly panic. I don't know what is happening but I suddenly get a sharp instinct for danger. Starlight thinks I'm the aggressor now and may soon start attacking me.

Without further thought, I crawl up to my hooves and rush away. As I do so, I scream at the top of my lungs. It should be the shrill screech of a frightened little girl, but instead, all I'm hearing is a grown man making a pathetic attempt to mimic the shrill screech of a little girl.

Starlight says something behind me but I can't make it out over my own voice. All I know is I have to get out of there!

Author's Note

*Note: This chapter has awarded the story with the genre gender-bending.

Okay. Now we're getting to the real meat of the story which you've likely been anticipating ever since you started the story.

This is the chapter that the long description of this story promised would show up. When I wrote that long description, I felt reluctant to give out that much of a spoiler in a story that has the "mystery" genre but I couldn't help it. The plot point of this chapter is the backbone of the entire story.

As always, I'd like to know what you think.

Chapter 7: Silent Night

I race through town as fast as my new legs can carry me and through the dark of the night, no less. Since they are longer legs, I'd almost call this faster if it weren't for my balance issues. I keep wobbling and almost stumbling many times. Sometimes I do crash into the wall just to avoid falling to the floor only to push out from the wall and resume fleeing.

I don't really have a destination in mind. Raw panic propels me to flee onward. It's all I can do. I can't think right now. I don't really want to think either.

Instead, all that is left of my true conscious thought is busy fighting to deny this reality entirely. I keep expecting and hoping I'll wake up from this horrible nightmare soon.

Weird sensations gradually start to seep into my conscious mind anyway. In particular is the alien sensation of the wind passing through the new holes in my legs. Not even my subconscious mind should be able to imagine what that is like. A pony born blind should not be able to dream in visual details. Likewise, a pony should not be able to see a color in a dream that he or she never saw in real life.

What is happening to me?!

Finally my new hooves hit something. I stumble then crash face first into the dirt. I slide a few inches after that. Moments later I register the fact of how much this sensation hurts! In particular my snout, chest, and neck area.

If this is a dream then the pain should have woken me up by now.

Whimpering, I roll onto my back. I rest a hoof on my forehead just below my now jagged horn as it dawns on me that I'm no longer wearing my saddlebag. If I were then I should have felt them as I rolled over. If they are indeed missing, likely because of that magical explosion, then I'm missing all the contents within them as well, including the home remedy books that I should be delivering to Missus Cream Heart.

I clearly have bigger problems right now but my thoughts linger on my missing saddlebags anyway almost as if it's a psychological defense mechanism.

As much as my present situation frightens me, letting down some other pony that is counting on me remains a surprisingly strong priority.

The tears in my eyes blur the image of the stars above me. As I gaze out at that wide, expansive universe above me, I find myself calming a little. It is enough to restore some of my critical thinking.

In hindsight, I am shocked I managed to get away from Starlight Glimmer. If she wanted to stop me, she easily could have accomplished that. Float me in her magic aura, teleport to me or me to her, trap me in a magic bubble, create magical force chains to wrap around my hooves, transform me into a newt.

The point is there is so many options available to Starlight. Why didn't she use any of them to stop me? She sounded motivated enough to do so at the time.

The only explanation that dawns on me also frightens me. The most logical explanation is she couldn't stop me at the time. Maybe she was too drained of her magic because of the mishap of the magical experiment. A worse possibility is her horn got damaged in the mishap. This makes me worried for her. I hope she's okay!

As it stands, however, I suppose I should count my blessings. Starlight viewed me as a potential hostile back then. If she could have commanded her full power, she might have used it to harm me since she doesn't realize that this new form is me.

And if that's true, I might encounter the same problem everywhere! I can't go home now. Not while I look like this!

I close my eyes as I try to think back to when I last saw a form like this. I know it's familiar. I've seen it somewhere before, but where?

I think for about a minute before my eyes pop open when my memories report a startling revelation to me. I remember now! I remember the last time I saw a form like this. It was a bunch of years ago during a wedding in Canterlot between Princess Cadence and Shining Armor. What we didn't know at the time, however, was that a changeling queen was impersonating Cadence.

But, shortly after the queen got unmasked, her minions torpedoed their way down into the city like flaming green meteors raining destruction down from the sky. I was one of the flower girls, along with Apple Bloom and Scootaloo, who desperately tried to flee from the scary monsters that rained down upon the city. In the end we did get captured with pathetic ease, but I can't expect much from foals of that age.

The thing is I remember! I remember what those monsters looked like. They kind of had the shape of a pony in general configuration such as four hooves, one torso and one head, but I remember the differences too like glassy eyes, bug-like wings, hard carapace torso, all-black hide, and holes in their legs. Their tongues forked out of their mouths in an overly long, nightmarish ways. They were trying to scare us, and boy, they succeeded well.

But that was also the last time I beheld the form of the bad changelings. The next time I saw them, they were colorful bug/reindeer. That was during a ceremony right here in Ponyville commemorating Trixie, Thorax, Discord and Starlight Glimmer for their heroic efforts of redeeming the changeling hive. During that same ceremony I beheld the reformed changelings for the first time. Suffice to say, I was far less intimidated by them that time. I even thought they looked kind of adorable.

Yet here I am in the form of a bad changeling that I haven't seen in many, many years. Of all the horrifying things I've seen and suffered through tonight, that one thing seems oddly random. There is no way I could have predicted that coming. If there was anyway I could have foreseen this, I would do everything in my power to stop it.

But the important question is what now? Where do I go? Everywhere I go, I might get attacked by others who now think I'm a horrible monster!

As I mull this over, my mind locks on to one place that might be sanctuary for me, at least for tonight.

Tiredly, I wobble my way back to my unsteady new legs.

I am so exhausted which is the reason my journey to my destination is so arduous. Not only am I trotting with a body I'm unfamiliar with, but I feel like I'm trotting with legs made of solid iron. I've been through a lot on this day, too. I would normally be exhausted anyway after all I went through before the accident, but now I have so much physical and emotional fatigue on top of that.

As I proceed, there were so many times I question if I'm going to make it. When I do, I pass something that indicates some progress and I keep telling myself, “Just a little further.” It feels so tiring to have to say that to myself so many times, but each sign of progress is new. For example, the smell of the apple trees that fill the air.

Then, finally, I make it to the Crusader's clubhouse. By then, I feel so tired that a part of me is concerned if I'll ever wake up once I go to sleep this time. Is it really possible to die due to fatal amount of fatigue?

The clubhouse . . . my home away from home. One of the few places I feel like I really belong to. A place of great accomplishment, having fun with my friends, and also a place of sanctuary for me. The irony of that is how I felt when I first beheld this place. I still remember it well.

“It just needs a little, uh, T-L-C,” Applejack told us encouragingly when she first introduced us to the clubhouse during a time when it was a rundown dump.

“T-L-C as in 'Tender Loving Care' or Totally Lost Cause'?” Scootaloo quipped with a skeptical expression.

Back in the present, I giggle a little bit for that comment until I notice how weird my voice sounds again. Another reminder of that feels like a slap in the face.

Still, considering how broken down this place once was, I am so surprised how much Apple Bloom fixed it up later. In hindsight, I'm kind of surprised she didn't get her cutie mark for that right then. She really did a great job.

It runs in the family I guess.

I enter the clubhouse.

As I expect, the clubhouse really does have sparse furniture. Maybe my sister is right. This place really does need a fainting couch. I wish it had something to sleep on instead of just the floor. There isn't even a blanket or pillow in here.

But it is still a roof over my head, there's no pony in here to chase me out in fright right now, and I feel so exhausted that I probably could sleep anywhere. Even on the floor here.

I don't settle on the floor so much as fall on it. I don't even notice that happen. My eyes simply drift closed then, when I open them, I discover I'm already laying on the floor. I didn't feel myself fall or hit the floor. Instead, I'm just suddenly there.

I best get used to this because I know there's no way I'm going to be able to pick myself up from the floor this time. It took beyond my maximum strength just to get here. I really don't know how I did it. I remember the struggle. It seemed too difficult to succeed to the degree that I did.

But here I am. Lying on the floor without a plan in the world. Maybe without a friend in the world.

I close my eyes as I feel warm tears trail down them. I wasn't sure, before now, if changelings had the physical capability to cry. I especially questioned that from the evil kind. They certainly never did it back then. Not when I first and last saw them.

A wave of dizziness and vertigo overcomes me. I really can't recall the last time I've had to struggle this hard to stay awake, but a part of my mind keeps urgently pointing at my situation and practically saying, “But wait! Before you go to sleep, you have got to fix this! If you don't, it's going to remain a problem later on, too. It might even grow worse!”

But what can I do when I don't have the strength to? Not physically, not emotionally, and not mentally. Every part of me is drained. There is simply nothing more I can give. Like it or not, the only option I have left to me is surrender into sleep.

My worry lingers. What if I don't wake up? What if these are my final thoughts in life?

Questioning compels me to review the life I've lived so far except the images, sounds, and overall sensations of my memories are badly faded due to the sheer fatigue in my mind. Still, most of the memories I review are largely positive. My adventures with my friends in our efforts to discover our cutie marks especially come to the forefront of my mind. We scaled mountains, swam in the lake, put on stage plays, entered the Foal-Free press. I was very proud of the stage play that I wrote, directed, and acted in with my friends, but to be honest, my sister's costumes ended up the best part.

So I have lived a very good life. If I die now, I know I at least have that much but a pang of pain clenches my heart at the thought of it ending now. There's so much I want to do in the future too! So much to live for. I'm young. I'm still a foal! I don't want it to end now.

My thoughts drift off since I'm unable to keep myself awake.

It's dark. I can barely see my muzzle at the end of my face. The stars vaguely light up the sky, but there is so much cloud cover that they are next to useless.

On top of that, oddly enough, the street lanterns aren't working as they should. The streets of Ponyville has rarely been more scary.

But, on top of that, it is deserted. The only other sound I hear out there in the dark is the sound of slow hoof clomps chasing after me.

“Hello?” I cry out in the dark, feeling frightened. “Is there anypony out there?”

The hoof clomps I heard earlier pause for a moment. When it resumes, the only open acknowledgment to my call I hear is the sound of casual whistling.

Oh NO! Not that pony again! Anypony but that pony again!

He followed me! He followed me all the way to Ponyville.

Or she. I really can't tell, but my instincts tell me it's a guy. Largely I can tell from the sound of the whistle.

In fright, I gallop on away from the sound of the hoof clomps and whistle, but it is so scary to gallop away while I can't see where I'm going. At this reckless speed I could gallop into any object like a lamppost. At this speed it would hurt a lot.

But I can't help myself. I'm just too frightened to hold my ground.

I continue to gallop until I notice the receding sound that is following me is now ahead of me.

Didn't that happen before? It's as if this pony can teleport, or at least fly.

I can't reject either possibility. As rare as the teleportation skill is, it has been known to happen.

I never knew, till now, how scary that talent can be. When that skill is in the hooves of a stalker, it makes the threat feel inescapable and unavoidable.

What am I going to do?

I feel like crying out. That's my default reaction to dangerous situations like this, but part of me is afraid that the only thing that will accomplish is attract that menacing stranger to me. No pony else seems to be here. No pony else who could rescue me.

I'm all alone!

I yelp, startled, when a pale greenish light ignites behind me. I whip about to behold who is there. The pony I see is . . .

. . . myself? How can that be?

At first this doppelganger of me is looking down, but when she slowly looks up at me, I notice something about her that clearly distinguishes her from me. She may appear to be me in every physical way. Same hide color, same mane color, same mane style, same eye color, and even same magic aura color which she is using to ignite her horn to fill the area with soft green light. However, despite all of that, the one thing that is different is the expression on her face that is devoid of all of my usual innocence. Instead I see a wicked gleam in her eyes and a slight crook to her lips. It's as if she knows an insidious secret. I've seen my own expression in the mirror plenty of times, especially while I'm brushing my mane, and I have never seen an expression like that staring back at me. I have never looked that blatantly evil.

Seeing that deeply frightens me because it makes it so obvious to me that I'm beholding a wicked stranger that is wearing my face like it is merely a mask.

A false face.

My face!

The thing that frightens me even more about this concept is the idea of what this wicked pony plans to do with my identity. Other ponies will look at her and think it's me, but it's not. It's some evil stranger that will probably use that deception to cause great harm to my friends.

I widen my eyes in terror when I behold this stranger nod yes to me as if to confirm my frightened thoughts.

Then, after that, she turns the light of her horn back off which plunges her back into darkness. When that happens, I finally notice that I was staring at her through a window of a shop. When her light goes off, the reflection of the window becomes more clear to me. It is only at that moment that I notice I'm not wearing my own face, either, but that of some wicked changeling.

Oh my Celestia! We switched bodies! I don't know how or why, but we did.

So now I look like I'm the evil changeling, but I'm not. The evil changeling looks like me, but she's not. Both situations present a very serious problem to me.

I've got to warn everypony that she's an impostor! I've also got to warn them that I'm the real Sweetie Belle! If I don't, there's no telling what wicked thing she'll do as me.

“There you are!” Scootaloo proclaims behind me in a very tense way. “We've been looking for you.”

“You have?” I ask as I spin about. Once again I wince when I notice how foreign my voice sounds and feels to me now. That is such a painful revelation.

Once I turn around, I notice both Scootaloo and Apple Bloom ahead of me, but they do not look too happy to see me. In fact, they look downright angry to see me!

“Of course we have!” Scootaloo says tightly. “And we won't let you hurt anypony else again!”

“Yeah! What she said!” Apple Bloom agrees beside her orange friend. “We told our big sisters on ya. They'll be here at any moment.”

“And when they get here,” I grow extremely startled to see the impostor of me approach then stand behind my two friends. At first she's looking down but then glances up at me with an expression as if not trying to hide the fact she has a wicked plan. “they'll make you sorry you ever tried to harm anypony here in Ponyville,” she finishes saying with that same wicked glint in her eyes and crook to her lips.

“But . . . but . . . I'm not the changeling! She is!” I warn my friends then again wince. I'm never going to get used to that alien new voice of mine.

“Oh sure! Like we'd fall for that!” Scootaloo snaps. “I mean . . . just look at you! You can't tell me that you're obviously the changeling.”

“But I'm Sweetie Belle!” I cry out to my friends as tears rise to my eyes. “You got to believe me! We're best friends!”

“Can it!” Apple Bloom barks back at me harshly. “That kind of lie is just a can of rotten apple sauce.”

“But it's true!” I wail as I collapse to my knees in fright. “I'm Sweetie Belle! Somehow the changeling switched bodies with me.”

“A likely story,” Rainbow Dash says skeptically as she flies down at me from above. She continues to hover in the air as she crosses her forelegs across her chest and stares down at me with harsh judgment in her eyes. “You'd say anything to protect yourself and your wicked ways.”

“An' the fact that ya accuse Sweetie Belle, of all ponies, of being a wicked changeling is just rotten to the core,” agrees Applejack as she trots up and looks down at me harshly. “Ah kay'ient stand dirty, rotten liars!”

“Won't somepony please believe me? I really am Sweetie Belle!” I cry out desperately and painfully.

I feel so small and crushed by their harsh judgments right now. I look around for any kind of salvation. My chest ignites with a brief amount of hope when I see my sister, Rarity, trot up to join us.

“You believe me, don't you? You have to! You're my sister!” I plead at Rarity. “Look into my eyes! You have to believe me!”

“What? Sister? With you? A wicked changeling?” Rarity says in disgust. “Don't be ridiculous, darling. My sister isn't some repulsive bug-monster.”

“Yeah! You tell him!” my wicked doppelganger agrees as “she” steps beside my sister.

“Get away from her!” I snap at my impostor.

“Help me, Rarity,” my impostor pretends to be frightened but hardly makes any real effort to seem so. She buries her face into my sister's chest. “I'm scared,” she says calmly with a voice empty of all emotion. “Please protect me.”

“There you go! You're scaring my precious baby sister!” Rarity accuses to me. “I'll never forgive you, you . . . you wicked brute!”

I cover my face with my hooves and weep. This can't be happening! Is this how it will all end?

And this fate is not just bad for me, either. If they think the wicked changeling is me, she'll probably set them into a deadly trap later on. Their lives are at stake, too.

I start to feel Appljack's rope tie me up, but I keep my eyes firmly shut as I desperately fight to reject this reality.

“There ya go. All dressed up like a turkey,” Applejack proclaims in satisfaction.

I scream!

Author's Note

*Note: The story has now earned the new genre tag "body-swapping" and "dark".

Poor Sweetie Belle! After all this trouble she's suffering through, don't you just want to leap into the story somehow give her a hug? :unsuresweetie:

If you do, then I'm doing something right because that's how writing for children should feel like. They're very powerless individuals so they need help. Situations like this overwhelm them. Maybe you remember what it's like to be a child during similar times, or perhaps you have children of your own that you feel driven to protect.

Let me know what you think.

It is interesting and apropos that this story gets posted on 9/11 of 2021. I didn't specifically plan that out, but eh.

Chapter 8: Club Sisters

The sound of shrill screaming stirs me awake with a start. I don't know who is screaming or why, but whatever the reason is may indicate that I, too, am in danger.

As my head starts to clear, I recognize the fact that it is actually not one, but two pairs of screaming. Very familiar screaming, too. This is none other than Apple Bloom and Scootaloo, my fellow Cutie Mark sisters.

“What? What? What is it?” I ask in a disoriented way as I quickly look around the clubhouse. That alone strikes me as odd. Shouldn't I have woken up in my bed at home instead? How did I get here?

And, more importantly, what threat is out there that startles my club sisters so much?

Since I see no immediate and dire threat in the room itself, like the clubhouse being on fire, I look at my fellow Crusaders instead to see where they are looking at. When I do so, horror sinks into me when I notice them looking at me.

Then I look at myself for an explanation, in particular my forelegs. Doing so reminds me how they are all black right now and full of holes like a certain kind of cheese I know.

“Oh,” I lament in realization.

Pony feathers, this should be a dream too. I'm not supposed to be a changeling. Least of all an evil changeling in particular. I really did wake up from a nightmare related to this issue, but this whole problem should have ended there.

I know who I am. I am a unicorn. I am a pony! I am the baby sister. This shouldn't be happening to me!

What did I do to deserve this?

I cringe tightly away from my club sisters’ rejection. I also pull the oval rug carpet on the ground around me tightly as if to use it as a shield to protect me.

My actions must have caught my club sisters off-guard because they quickly cease screaming as soon as I do that. They expected to see a creature like me try to attack and terrorize them, not cringe in fear and pain.

Apple Bloom asks, “Huh?”

Scootaloo reflects a second later, “Huh?”

“Don't look at me!” I wail at my club sisters. “I'm hideous right now.”

“But . . . who are you, and what are you doing in our clubhouse?” Scootaloo asks in confusion. “Do you have an appointment with us?”

I start crying.

“An' where in thah apples is Sweetie Belle?” Apple Bloom asks with confusion mixed with concern. “She should be here bah now. She's always thah one who's keepin' our schedule fer us.”

“I'm Sweetie Belle!” I wail at my club sisters desperately while still cringing tightly within the rolled-up rug. “It's me! I swear it's me! I know I don't look or sound like my old self right now, but I really am Sweetie Belle!”

“What?!” Scootaloo asks with strong skepticism. “You're pulling my legs. If you wanted to impersonate one of our dearest friends, I'd think a changeling, of all creatures, could do a better job than this.”

“But I was changed into a changeling last night!” I continue to wail at them desperately. “I've never been a changeling before. I don't know how to change.”

“Um . . . why don't ya start from the beginning,” Apple Bloom encourages. “Cuz, right now, ya got us more confused than a monkey doing math problems.”

“Wait a second,” Scootaloo cautious her apple-farming friend. “Do you really think there is any credibility to any of this? Why are we even listening to him when we should be alerting the town authorities?”

“I'm not a 'him'!” I insist hotly. “I'm a girl and a filly. I am Sweetie Belle.”

“Could have fooled me,” Scootaloo rejects skeptically.

“Hush, Scootaloo,” Apple Bloom discourages. “Let's just hear 'im out an' . . . or 'er out?” A moment passes, then Apple Bloom resumes. “Ah'm so confused, so let's juz 'ear out our guest.

“Okay, um . . . Sweetie Belle . . . start from the beginning.”

“The beginning?” I echo as I privately wonder where that is. “Well, um . . . the only thing you really need to know is this all started after I left the clubhouse and waited for Button on my first date. Oh, and . . . he didn't show up, by the way.”

“What? Why wouldn't he show up?” Scootaloo wonders then seems to wonder a second later why she even asked if she isn't fully convinced that I am really Sweetie Belle.

“That's what I wanted to know, so I headed over to his house to check on him when he seemingly stood me up. At his house, I knocked on the door, but it was only his mom that answered the door. She explained to me that Button was sick.”

“Huh.” I notice Apple Bloom looking up as the little filly thought back. “Come tah think of it, he was absent yesterday.”

“Oh yeah!” Scootaloo also recalls.

“I asked Cream Heart if there was anything I could do to help because, as you know, I like helping. It is the Crusadery thing to do,” I continue to explain. My club sisters nod in agreement with this statement. “In turn, she asked me to go to the library in Starlight's Castle to see if there were any books on home remedies to help Button recover faster.”

“Really?” Apple Bloom wonders. “If all this was true, ya should have come over to ma place. Granny Smith is chock-full of good ol' advice on recipes to cure whatever ails ya.”

“Well,” I shrug, “I suppose I should have thought of it, but there isn't as much of a reason for Cream Heart to think of it,” I somewhat explain.

“Eh . . . true,” Apple Bloom accepts with a neutral shrug.

“Well, anyway,” I continue, “so after I stopped by Button's place and got the request, I did indeed go to Starlight's Castle and check out two books that . . . Oh! Shoot. I think my saddlebags and the books are still at the castle.”

I notice my club sisters look at and nod at each other because the information I just gave is something they could later verify.

“Um, well, before I left the castle, Starlight happened to spot me and request for me to follow her. She said she was surprised I was up so late but still wanted me to do her a favor. I said sure and followed her. In turn, she led me to the Friendship Cutie Map and said she was trying an experiment to not just get it to work again, but to get it to work in a more specific way. She was trying a spell to see if she could summon the image of anypony's cutie mark on the map at will, regardless if that pony has a friendship problem or not.”

“Can she really do that?” Scootaloo asks with curiosity and minor alarm.

“She claimed she already got it to work, but it required somepony who knows and is connected to the subject we're seeking,” I answer. “Starlight wanted to see if I could do it too. That way she'd know if anypony could be called into that room and concentrate on whomever they are seeking. If it worked, we could use the map to find anypony that's missing.”

“Sounds useful,” Apple Bloom realizes. “It also very much sounds like a Starlight Glimmer project.” She looks off to her side. “Come tah think of it, it sounds like something Sunburst would think of as well.”

“Exactly!” I cheerfully agree. “Starlight told me that she and Sunburst came up with the idea together.”

Apple Bloom and Scootaloo glance at then simultaneously nod at each other because each filly knows that is yet another fact they could later verify.

“So what went wrong?” Scootaloo asks as she looks back at me. “I'm not saying I believe you yet, but I can see the pattern of where this story seems to be going.”

“I don't know,” I admit sadly. “I don't think Starlight knows either. She really didn't expect this result. She was convinced that the procedure would be very safe, else she wouldn't have requested a filly like me to participate.”

I notice Scootaloo wince when I referred to myself by the label of “filly”. Considering what I look and sound like, I can understand her reaction but it still wounds me inside because it makes me feel so wrong and hideous. It is also a painful reminder of the wrong circumstances I now find myself trapped in.

“That sounds right,” Apple Bloom agrees. “Ah really don't think she'd invite ya into this experiment if she thought it was dangerous for ya. She's ain’t the kind of pony who'd willing endanger an innocent filly.”

“So . . . you believe me?” I ask Apple Bloom with desperate hope in my eyes and voice.

Scootaloo also regards Apple Bloom to see if her club sister does believe me.

Apple Bloom is silent for a long while as she continues to carefully regard me. During that time, I feel myself inwardly panic. What if she doesn't believe me? What will I do next? Where will I go? Will she call the authorities on me? Will I be arrested? Will I spend the rest of my life in jail while trapped in the body of an evil changeling?

I feel like so much is hinging on her faith in me right now. It makes me feel so nervous.

Eventually Apple Bloom's expression brightens as she declares, “Ya know what, Sweetie Belle? I do believe you.”

“Really?!” I ask brightly.

“Really?” Scootaloo echoes skeptically. “How can you say that? This is obviously not Sweetie Belle.”

Apple Bloom looks at Scootaloo as she says, “Y'all know magical mishaps happen within this town on oh'cassion. We've seen that plenty of times in our life. Her story ain't that far-fetched if ya think about it.

“Plus, look deep into her eyes, Scootaloo,” Apple Bloom encourages. Scootaloo does so. “We're the Cutie Mark Crusaders. We're more connected tah each other than jus' about any other pony Ah know. If this really is Sweetie Belle, ya should be able to feel it.”

Scootaloo winces a bit at Apple Bloom as if admitting that she's afraid to cooperate with that request, but she does eventually do it. I meet her gaze with intense worry and hope in my eyes. My vision even blurs a bit as tears rise in them. I so desperately long for her to believe me and am worried that she will not.

In time Scootaloo closes her eyes and turns her head away with a sigh, then says, “You're right, Apple Bloom. When I look deep into her eyes, I can't convince myself that I'm looking at anypony other than Sweetie Belle. Her spirit shines through those eyes as brightly as I have ever seen despite her new current appearance.”

“Really?!” I ask as brightly as I did for Apple Bloom a moment ago. “So you believe me too?”

“Yeah.” Scootaloo grins as she looks back at me. “I suppose I do.”

“Oh thank you, thank you, thank you!” I ecstatically exclaim as I rush forward and seize them both into a hug.

“Hey! No hugging!” Scootaloo complains. “You know I don't like mushy stuff.”

“And ya know that Sweetie Belle does,” Apple Bloom reminds Scootaloo poignantly. “This is exactly what the real Sweetie Belle would do in this situation.”

“Yeah,” Scootaloo accepts. “I suppose. Also, if all of this is true, I'm sure she'd need this right now.”

“That's right!” I fiercely agree. “You two are my club sisters. You're a part of me. We got our cutie marks and share our destiny together. If either of you two didn't believe me . . . well, I don't know what I'd do without you.”

“Well, ya have us now,” Apple Bloom announces encouragingly as she lightly pushes me back so that we can face each other again. “So it's time to do what we Crusaders do best. How can we help, Sweetie Belle?”

I sit back down as I look down in defeat as I admit, “Right now . . . I'm not sure. There's so much on my plate right now. I look like an evil changeling so I might get arrested on the streets. Mom and Dad might scream and chase me out of my house with a levitated broom. I didn't know where else to go other than here. Starlight doesn't seem to think I'm Sweetie Belle either, though I'm surprised she didn't try to stop me.”

I look up at my club sisters with horror as something else occurs to me.

“Or she couldn't stop me!” I exclaim fearfully. “What if I'm not the only one hurt by that experiment?

“And, come to think of it, there is another potential problem. Just before I changed, I was cooperating with Starlight by concentrating on somepony I cared about. At that particular moment, I thought of and concentrated on Button Mash.”

Scootaloo looks taken aback in an offended way as she asks, “What? Why didn't you concentrate on one of us?”

“Because I couldn't choose either one of you over the other,” I answer immediately, “and Starlight requested me to focus on only one pony during that experiment. She wanted to simplify the experiment and see if that worked before moving on to more complex layers of her tests. Also, at that particular moment, I was concerned for Button Mash after learning he was sick. Despite how interesting I found Starlight's experiment, I was still anxious to get a move on and get those remedy books to Button's mother.”

Scootaloo thinks about what I said for a moment then nods to herself before saying, “Okay. I guess that makes sense. For you, at least.”

I lift a black, hole-filled hoof to signal for their attention because what I'm about to say next is really important. When I do seem to secure their attention, I go on to announce, “The thing is . . . the experiment worked at first but it had an unexpected twist. Button Mash's cutie mark did show up on the map but, when strange greenish light started to envelop me, Button Mash's cutie mark also lifted above the table. I heard him cry out my name in a horrified tone before his cutie mark shrank back and returned to the table, only this time it relocated somewhere in the Everfree Forest!” I finish with dramatic horror to my tone.

I notice both Scootaloo and Apple Bloom look at each other with alarm then pass that same expression to me.

I nod as I say, “I'm not just worried about myself or Starlight right now, I'm also concerned for Button Mash. What if something happened to him as well? What if he's in trouble?”

“Then that's what we need to find out,” Scootaloo decides. She looks at Apple Bloom. “So here's what I'm thinking. Ride with me in the wagon behind my scooter and I'll take you near Button Mash's place and drop you off there. While you check on him, I'll continue my way to check on Starlight and see if she's okay. While I'm at it, I might as well explain the situation to the best of my knowledge and get her on our side. After all, there is no other pony in town more likely to help us fix this situation other than Starlight. She's the greatest magic caster I know that still lives in town.”

“Agreed,” Apple Bloom declares with a confident nod. “That sounds like a plan.”

Scootaloo looks at the door to their clubhouse as she adds, “We should also post a sign on our front door to inform everypony that today's meetings are canceled due to an unexpected emergency.”

“And what should I do?” I ask anxiously. “I want to help.”

Scootaloo hesitates in answering as she gives me a discerning look before saying, “Right now the best thing you can do is stay here and keep your head low until we clear up the situation with everypony else. We don't want to start any confusion or panic so, until we explain the situation to them, it's probably best you hide here.”

I frown as I look down, but I concede, “Okay. If you think that's best.”

Apple Bloom looks at Scootaloo as she says to her, “Whichever one of us finishes our task first should return to the clubhouse as soon as possible just in case Sweetie Belle gets spotted. If that happens, one of us should be 'ere and vouch for 'er.”

Scootaloo nods as she says in a tone of strong agreement, “Good idea.”

Apple Bloom then regards me for a second before stepping forward to embrace me in a hug. Once again, I find myself heavily appreciating this.

“Don't ya worry, Sweetie Belle. Your club sisters are on the job, and if there's one thing we do really well, it's helping other ponies,” she reassures.

I sniff before saying very gratefully, “Thank you. Thank you both.”

“Hey! We're still Cutie Mark Crusaders. This is what we do,” Scootaloo announces cheerfully.

Then, on a whim, she starts singing one of our club themes in an attempt to cheer me up.

“We're the toughest little ponies in towwwwwn.

Got the moves, got the mojo . . . no harder working ponies around.”

At that point, Scootaloo pauses as she waits for the rest of us to join her. During that time she flashes us an encouraging smile.

I smile back at her gratefully. This moment feels more significant because I remember a time when Apple Bloom and I started singing that song to pick up Scootaloo's mood when she was feeling down. Now, appropriately enough, she's using that same tactic to cheer me up in return.

Aside from that, both of my club sisters know I love to sing. There aren't many other strategies that would be more effective at picking up my mood other than that.

So we pick up the next few lines together but with a little hesitation on my part.

“We are a trio, work as a teaaaaaaaam

We'll be the first ponies out on the flaaaaaaaaag-waaaaaaaaving sceeeeeeeeeeeeeeeene.

“We get going when the going gets tough

We know our very best is just ne-ver enough

We're kinda short, but so whaaaaaaaaat? We don't get defeated

We could take a little break, but we don't need it

“We've got hearts . . . as strong as hor-ses

“We've got hearts . . . as strong as hor-ses

“We've got hearts . . . as strong as hor-ses

We've got hearrrrrr-arrrrrrrr-arrrrrrrrrrrts . . . hearts strong as hor-seeeeeeeeeeeeeees!”

While not the full lyrics, we're unable to continue because we laugh playfully together as we all collapse onto the floor.

Then, after that, I look teary-eyed at my club sisters as I'm given another glowing reminder of how and why I love them so much.

And I do feel so much better now that I know I got my club sisters to watch my back. Together, we can do anything . . . for we do have hearts as strong as horses.

Author's Note

Finally some good news for our innocent little protagonist, and of course it would come from her fellow Crusaders. Her best friends in the world.

When I look at the CMC and examine who they are, I come to the conclusion that few would know or feel Sweetie's spirit better than them.

That's important to build the foundation for later chapters, for Sweetie is initially overwhelmed and she needs allies. This gives her a place to start, and her instincts naturally drew her to the true core of her strength. With the Light of Friendship building her path, hope is restored. That's a start.

Chapter 9: Identity Crisis

Staying at the clubhouse all by myself is boring, painful, and sometimes scary. My heart feels crushing disappointment as I see other fillies and colts filter in one by one for their scheduled Cutie Mark consultation only to leave in depression when they see the notice on our door which explains all appointments are canceled today due to an emergency. Most of our clients arrived by themselves but a few arrived in groups. Because of that, I am able to overhear them while they are in close range. That is why I am able to hear exactly what I expect to hear; disappointment over the canceled appointment but also concern over the reason for the cancellation. That alone raises worried speculation.

My heart grows heavier and heavier with each client that is forced to turn away because there is nothing I'd rather do more than help them with their problem instead of sitting here all alone while feeling helpless, scared, and useless. I feel as if I'm failing my cutie mark destiny. It's so painful to go against my nature.

But I can't help it right now. If they see me as I am, I might scare them. I hate how unpleasant that would be for them but it likely would also invite further trouble upon me. I need to wait while my club sisters sort all this out. Until then, I have to be patient. That's the last thing a foal wants to tell him or herself.

I know the door to the clubhouse can't actually lock. That is true for most of Ponyville as well. We're a trusting community and largely consider locks to be pointless. There are some exceptions, however, largely because of the unusual frequency of dangers that have been attracted to this town ever since Twilight first moved in. I know that no pony blames her per se, but it's hard to ignore a reasonable degree of caution as a result.

The cancellation sign is the only real thing holding any of our clients back. Most of my mind is convinced that should be enough, but just in case, I hide in our smaller upper floor where we have our telescope. The reason being is if anypony decides to get too insistent, curious, or concerned, then if they peak into the clubhouse, they won't immediately spot me because I'm not there. As for the ladder leading to the upper floor where I am at, I have that entrance blocked by a platform and I'm also resting on top of it. That's the closest thing I can do in this situation to lock myself away.

I really can't shake off my fear. Starlight and Button Mash might be hurt. It's killing me to wait here with nothing to do other than dwell on my concerns for them and myself. My only consolation to those facts is my club sisters are moving out to investigate those situations and I have absolute confidence in them. If there is any way to accomplish those goals, they'll do it. It's reassuring to know they'll almost certainly come back with some answers. It's nearly inevitable. It may be very painful to wait right now, but it's comforting to know there is a strong chance this wait will result in a useful payoff.

I smile so brightly that it almost brings a tear to my eyes. I love my club sisters so much! It just feels so good to know how much I can count on them.

I don't exactly know how much time passes while I wait. It feels like hours at least.

No, it feels like days. The stress is killing me. I really wish I could help or do something useful instead of sitting here and worry all the time.

Since I have this time to myself, however, I occasionally use it to dwell on the possibilities as to why this is all happening to me. Most of my mind is leaning on the theory that all of this is because of some unexpected magical mishap due to Starlight's experiment. I have no doubt that Starlight didn't do this on purpose. Something else “weird” must have happened.

But that's what bothers me the most. What is the “weird” reason all this happened? The way Starlight reacted indicates there was a factor to the experiment she completely didn't account for and therefore had no way to prepare for it. The thing is . . . what could it be?

The mystery is killing me.

One fascinating but also deeply disturbing thought is the possibility that my family is, and always had been, changelings. If that's true, then it means my parents, my sister and I have always been changelings but, if that's true, then they certainly kept that secret from me for some reason. Maybe when I was very, very young, they coaxed me to take a pony form somehow but thereafter never taught me how to revert back or take any other form. They raised me to think that I'm a normal and naturally born unicorn. Maybe they did it because they were trying to hide and rebel from the evil changeling society at the time.

Then, when that same society got converted into good, my parents, and possibly also my older sister, continued to protect the secret because it became a habit by then. Maybe they were also embarrassed and ashamed to admit their secret at this point. They knew I thought I was a naturally born unicorn and figured they didn't want to take that thought away from me. Maybe they were going to let me die of old age without ever finding out the secret.

One thing I have heard about evil changelings is that they always feel driven to feed off of love and they were typically starving all the time back then. Maybe my parents realized there was another option. Maybe they realized that if they could assimilate themselves into pony society and pretend to be a pony from then on, the love they'd produce for each other could sustain them indefinitely. As a result, their need to feed on love got replaced with hunger for regular food like salad, hay fries, and such.

If all of this is true, then I'm bothered by the fact they kept this critical secret from me. It would have been fascinating to spend all of my youth years exploring the various forms I could have taken.

And how can I explain my cutie mark? Isn't that proof that I am a true and natural pony? Changelings can't get true cutie marks, but they can fake it. Maybe, when I got my cutie mark, I subconsciously tapped into my changeling shape-changing magic just that once and simulated the acquisition of a cutie mark.

If that was true then that feels deeply disturbing but in a fascinating way.

Another thought that feels really disturbing is the way changelings reproduce. To the best of my knowledge, if my family really have been changelings all along, then my parents are not really my parents but instead my older siblings!

I, uh . . . I can't really hoofle that thought right now. It fries my brain.

If all of this is true, there is a chance my older sister Rarity didn't know this either. Maybe the secret was withheld from her, too, or she could have forgotten. I'm even leaning on the fact that my older sister didn't know. If she did know, why would she insist on Twilight using magic on her to give her wings so she could visit her good friend in Cloudsdale and cheer for her during a Young Flier's competition? When Rarity gained those butterfly-like wings, which were indeed very beautiful to behold, she couldn't help but brag about it to my parents and I. I felt so jealous of her back then. I even begged to be enchanted like that so I could join my older sister in Cloudsdale as well, but then my big sister said that the spell was too complicated for Twilight to repeat at the time and they insisted I needed to focus on my schoolwork instead. Boy, I was so bummed back then.

However, none of this makes any sense if Rarity knew she was a changeling all along. In that case, she could simply morph wings on herself at any given moment and she never needed to remove them. The only reason I can figure, at this time, is she concealed that knowledge in order to blend in. Maybe my parents secretly yelled at her for changing her form until she assured them that Twilight's magic is the only reason she gained those wings in the first place.

But . . . that still doesn't add up. When her wings evaporated due to flying too close to the sun, why would she withhold her changeling abilities when she was literally falling to her potential death? She didn't know Rainbow Dash would save her that day by finally performing her legendary Sonic Rainboom for the second time in her life. Surely this is a situation that was urgent enough to compel her to change forms if she knew she could.

Could that be the problem? Was she aware she could change but hasn't done it for so long that she forgot how?

Surely there must have been many other situations she encountered where changeling magic would have come in hoofy during yet another emergency. There were probably many instances like that. I have a strong feeling that she hasn't told me every detail of her adventures because she was afraid of scaring me. She'd have a point, too. If I knew how dangerous her adventures were on a regular basis then I'd probably indeed be very worried for her.

As it stands, by reflecting on every grand accomplishment of hers that I am aware of, I am mostly filled with pride instead.

There is, however, one problem between us when it comes to her and her adventures.

Well, I lied. There are actually two things.

Number one; it has been inconvenient at times. If she wasn't gallivanting off to some grand adventure again, maybe she could have spent that time with me instead. Sometimes I miss her, and do worry for her too from time to time, but I'm mostly filled with confidence and pride in her.

Number two; noticing how grand her accomplishments have sometimes belittled me. I don't completely feel envy for her life. Many times, had I been in the same situation while facing down other monsters like King Sombra and the like, I would have given those adventures a hard “Nope!” My friends being in danger is the only reason that could have convinced me to endure trials like that. In that regard, I suppose I identify with Fluttershy more.

Nevertheless, despite all the love and pride I feel for her, I also sometimes feel like I'm lost in her shadow. It's just so wide and thick. Many times I've read about her recent exploits in the newspaper.

“EXTRA-EXTRA! READ ALL ABOUT IT! THE ELEMENTS OF HARMONY HAVE SAVED US YET AGAIN. IS THIS NEWS STILL EXCITING TO YOU ALL, OR HAVE YOU GROWN TOO ACCUSTOMED TO THIS BY NOW? PLEASE LET ME KNOW! EXTRA-EXTRA!”

Legendary heroic quests are not the only impressive feat of my older sister. Many times she has accomplished great feats all on her own talent. In cases like that, it is largely stuff like the success of her business and gathering more momentum in the fashion industry. She has succeeded in her goals so many times and in so many ways that I sometimes forget how much she worked and stressed over this fact. Rarity has very much earned her success, but I am in awe of how grand she has accomplished her goals these days. It makes me wonder if I could ever match up to such lofty standards.

My greatest consolation is the fact that I genuinely enjoy the work I am accomplishing and it's satisfying to know that this really does feel like enough. I don't need to accomplish my goals on an epic scale if the end results of my efforts now result in true happiness for me and my precious friends.

But now . . . now everything is in flux and I feel very flustered as a result. Things like this help me to realize that, unlike my older sister, I am not a true adventurer at heart. The search for my cutie mark destiny and every trial I've endured therein is about as far as I can comfortably go. Back then, sometimes even that was too much. I definitely wouldn't have pushed myself that hard if it weren't for my friends joining me on that journey. Not only did they make it fun, or at least tolerable, but it compelled me with a sense of duty. If they were willing to tolerate all this hassle for the sake of self-discovery then I could do no less. I owed them for that. They are so immeasurably good to me that it felt like I had to do it just out of sheer gratitude that they were and still are my dearest friends.

However, it's one thing to pursue goals like the ones we had for the sake of self-discovery and quite another to do it for the sake of true mortal danger. I've been in those situations a few times and every single time I keep getting severely worried that I'm not strong enough or brave enough to succeed during a moment when it so critical to succeed. In most of my past adventures, if I failed, I could just get up and try again. But, in instances where true mortal danger is involved, I might get only one shot. If I miss it then I could die. My family and friends would be so devastated if that happened! Knowing that adds so much stress on me that I feel threatened to collapse under the pressure.

That is not my only fear, either. What if I survive but with a permanent injury? What if my legs or horn gets so damaged I can never trot or cast magic again?

Worse, what if I survive, but my friends don't? Am I strong enough to live with the torment of their loss ever onward? I'm sure it would feel like I'm missing a critical component of myself from then on. That stress could be so severe that maybe I wouldn't want to live anymore. Even if I do, maybe I'd never be able to reclaim the same kind of joy I used to get.

All of these are very valid reasons why I question my ability to hoofle severe, life-threatening levels of pressure. I'd question and worry about failure too much. That alone might cause that which I'd fear.

My present circumstances are simply further evidence of this. With all the recent changes occurring in my life, my heart deeply longs to return to my comfort zone. I'll do what I have to when I have to, but I derive no true joy from all of this stress. Not enough to accept this on a regular basis. I really am an adventurer at heart but I have limits. Severe, kid-friendly limits. The fact that my older sister can push herself so well and so far while under the same kind of pressure just makes me admire her more while, at the same time, making me feel unworthy and inadequate. My friends and family keep telling me they love me just the way I am, but I still can't help but compare myself to something greater sometimes. I just can't help it. That's part of who I am.

Some ponies, I know, really are addicted to this kind of lifestyle. Daring Do, fictional or not, is a great example of that. Admittedly, I don't read her adventure novels all that much because I prefer fairytale and romance books, but I hear Rainbow Dash brag about her enough to get the jist of it. It is enough to know for sure that some ponies get their cutie marks specifically for adventuring careers. They probably love the adrenaline rush of it. They do it for the excitement and the idea of accomplishing something important. Something that must be done and few other ponies, if any, could possibly accomplish in their place.

Scootaloo's parents are like that. They, too, are driven towards dangerous careers. So severely so that they left their daughter behind to make sure Scootaloo doesn't get killed because of their career. Her parents can hoofle it, but obviously they'd question the abilities of a little foal even if she did get a similar cutie mark. As a result, they left her someplace safer until she gets old enough to make more mature decisions for herself.

It is unending and deeply fascinating to notice and feel that every pony has an important place in the world. The journey of self-discovery is an adventure in its own right, but unlike me and my fellow Crusaders, most ponies don't get their cutie marks specifically because of that journey. Instead, they'd need help, otherwise, it would take them longer to discover their destiny and/or lose their way during that journey. They need help, and we, the Cutie Mark Crusaders, comfortably and gladly fill that niche.

But now what? What am I going to do if I'm stuck as a changeling for the rest of my life? Will I still be able to get along with all of my friends and family? Am I even capable of becoming a mother?

It sure would make things easier if I could use this race’s ability to do what they do best. If I could learn how they change their forms, then I can use it to revert to my previous form and thereafter leave it alone. Not much has to change if I could at least simulate my previous form.

If only.

Author's Note

A low-key chapter that puts the entire emphasis on internal dialog. Since this is a first-person perspective story and Sweetie just went through something traumatic, I figured I'd give one chapter that shines a spotlight on her reaction to this whole affair. This is a pause in the story that allows everything else to settle down and gives Sweetie a chance to internalize what just happened to her and what it might mean. This is a period of exploring feelings, internal reflection, and questions without answers.

Welcome to the mystery and mind-bending genre.

Chapter 10: Grim News and Hard Resolve

I know that buzzing sound anywhere. That almost motor-like sound. That is Scootaloo's wing flaps. That must mean she's back!

Eagerly, I peek over the bottom edge of the window of the second story of our clubhouse. What I see makes me even more excited because, not only do I spot Scootaloo, but Apple Bloom as well. In this case, riding in Scootaloo's wagon like we usually do whenever we want to get somewhere in a hurry.

But I do spot one thing about them that concerns me and that is the frantic looks on their faces. This makes me very concerned that they are not coming here with good news.

Now feeling frantic myself, I look at the wooden platform I had blocking the entrance to the upper level of the clubhouse. I use my sickly greenish magic to levitate the platform out of the way. As I do so, a weird sort of emptiness fills inside of me as if I've grown hungry for . . . something. I don't know what it is, but whatever it is, it makes my chest feel cold. My fur would have stood up on end if I still had it.

I really don't like using this body’s magic. It doesn't feel like my own. It almost feels downright rude to use it, but regardless, sometimes it may be necessary.

Well, whatever. The way is now clear so I climb down to the main clubhouse in a hurry. Along my way down I happen to spot Apple Bloom and Scootaloo looking up at me.

“Get inside,” Scootaloo calls up to me. “We need to talk.”

“We both do,” Apple Bloom corrects.

“Okay. I'll meet you two inside,” I agree as I continue to make my way down into the clubhouse. As I do so, my club sisters make their way up to the clubhouse then burst in through the front entrance.

“What is it?” I ask them with worry.

“Big news, Sweetie Belle,” Apple Bloom tells me.

“And not the good variety either,” Scootaloo warns, then shrugs. “Well, for the most part. Some of the news I have has a silver lining.”

The worry on my face visibly doubles as I ask, “I take it, then, that both Starlight and Button Mash are hurt?”

“Actually . . . yeah,” Apple Bloom concurs. “As ya know, Ah was dumped off at Button Mash's place first. Ah knocked on the door immediately, but there was no answer.”

“And, fortunately, I wasn't too far off,” Scootaloo adds. “I heard the knock but there was no answer. By then, I had taken off about a block but decided to backtrack out of concern. There, I noticed poor Apple Bloom standing at the front entrance and giving me a glum look while she shrugs.”

“Ah kept on a knocking juz in case they'd show up, but they didn't,” Apple Bloom resumes explaining.

“So I rejoined her and, together, we searched the house as thoroughly as we could without entering inside the house,” Scootaloo puts in.

“I.E. . . . checking all thah windows an' listen' fer anypony inside,” says Apple Bloom.

“Neither of us heard anypony,” says Scootaloo.

“Since that seemed to be a bust, Ah decided to join Scootaloo in searching fer Starlight after all,” says Bloom.

“So we went to Starlight's Castle next,” says Scoot.

“But Starlight ain't there neither,” says Bloom.

“However, fortunately for us, there were others who were in the castle that were able to explain to us where Starlight was,” says Scoot.

Apple Bloom lifts up her right yellow hoof as she explains, “The Ponyville Hospital.”

“Oh no!” I lament as my ears lower above my head.

“So we go there next to check in with Starlight,” says Scoot.

“An' we finally found 'er!” Apple Bloom cheers.

“Turns out she has a cracked horn,” reports Scoot.

“Noooo!” I moan sadly which still sounds so weird and uncomfortable with my manly, stranger's voice. “Will she be okay?”

“That's one of our pieces of good news!” Apple Bloom happily reports.

“Starlight has magic gauze wrapped around her horn,” Scootaloo explains. “It means she can't cast any magic safely for a few days, but the doctors are confident she will make a complete recovery after that.”

“Oh good!” I breathe a sigh of relief.

“We asked to see Starlight in order to check up on her,” says Bloom.

“Fortunately the doctors let us do that,” says Scoot. “Starlight was very much awake and aware.”

“An' it turns out she was anxious to see us, too,” Bloom added.

“Because of what seemingly happened to you,” Scoot elaborates. “She was just as anxious as we were for answers. In particular, she wanted to know if either of us had seen you.”

“What did you tell her?” I ask in concern.

Scootaloo lifts up an orange hoof as she says, “Before we got to that part, we made her promise to hear us out to the full and not make any rash judgments.”

“She said, 'Sure',” Bloom pleasantly reports.

“So we explained your situation to the best of our ability,” says Scoot. “We promised her that we were certain that you were Sweetie Belle despite your altered appearance.”

“How did she take that news?” I ask in concern.

“Eh . . . well . . .” Scootaloo trails off as she and Apple Bloom glance at each other for a moment with a look of uncomfortable uncertainty before Scootaloo faces me again and says, “Let's just say she took it with a grain of salt, but admitted that you were the one who seemed to be in the room before there was suddenly a changeling in your place. The possibility of you being transformed into a changeling honestly had already occurred to her, but if that is the case, she still doesn't know why.”

I look down in depression. “Which means she has no idea how to fix this either,” I figure.

“Uh-huh,” Scootaloo agrees with a nod of her head. “That said, she does want to see you in person and promises to keep an open mind. Furthermore, as soon as her horn recovers, she wants to run a battery of tests on you to confirm . . . something or another. I don't know. It sounded like egghead stuff to me at that point.”

“But that does mean she's open tah the possibility that ya are really Sweetie Belle,” Apple Bloom points out optimistically. “When she becomes fully convinced of that fact, an' Ah guarantee we'll make sure o' that, then she promises to do everything she can to help ya out.”

“Well that's good, I guess,” I say a little more cheerfully.

I grow worried again when I see Scootaloo look down and lower her ears. Whatever she has to say next, I realize it might be very bad news.

“What is it?” I ask with tentative worry.

Scootaloo still hesitates. She even looks at Apple Bloom beside her who, in turn, nods sadly that this next bit of news I need to hear.

“We . . . we did find Button Mash after all,” Scootaloo finally tells me with a pained expression in her eyes. “Actually, it was Starlight herself that reported that news to us first because she remembered how his cutie mark appeared on the Friendship Map.”

“Yeah, I remember that,” I confirm.

“That's why Starlight wanted to check on Button Mash too,” Scootaloo reports. “As it turns out, however, she didn't have to check that far. Button Mash was also delivered to the Ponyville Hospital.”

“Oh no!” I cry sadly, then ask with a very worried expression, “Why? What happened to him? Was it his illness? Did it get worse?”

“One thing is fer sure. Starlight is way better off than Button Mash because at least she could talk tah us,” Apple Bloom mopes sadly.

Scootaloo shakes her head as she says, “The doctors honestly don't know what's wrong with Button Mash, but the symptoms he's suffering from are somewhat familiar. In particular, do you remember the incident where Tirek drained the magic of many citizens within Equestria?”

“Sort of,” I tell her. “He didn't drain my magic, but I heard many other ponies elsewhere weren't so lucky. Instead of that, Tirek grew into a massive giant for some reason then tore up the place with giant beams of energy projected from between his horns. It wrecked our schoolyard, among other things.”

Scootaloo shakes her head and lifts her hoof, then says, “The point is, the symptoms themselves are familiar.” She returns her hoof to the floor. “Button Mash is drained of most of his color.”

I gasp in shock.

Which, again, sounds really weird in this stranger's body.

“Furthermore, his cutie mark is totally missing now,” Scootaloo further reports. “He's also unconscious and doesn't seem to respond to any stimulus.”

“His head seems to be more empty than a barrel with no bottom,” Apple Bloom puts in.

“In other words, no pony is home in there,” Scootaloo says sadly.

I feel like crying as I look down. Indeed, I do feel tears rise in my eyes. This is because I think back to the time I chose him as a target for the Cutie Map. If I had known that I ended up choosing a victim for something unfortunate then I never would have done that in the first place.

Poor Button Mash! This is all my fault! His ghostly-like echo of his voice while crying out my name may indeed haunt me for the rest of my days.

“Sweetie Belle, look at me!” Apple Bloom insists as she puts both of her forehooves on my shoulders. I cooperate. “This ain't yer fault, Sweetie Belle!” she assures me firmly while also proving she accurately read my mind. “Not no way. Not no how.”

“But it was me!” I cry out. “I was the one who chose him to be the target of the Cutie Map.”

“But you didn't know this would happen!” Scootaloo snaps. “Starlight didn't either,” she goes on insistently while gesturing beyond our walls towards Ponyville. “And we'll fix this because helping ponies is what we do for a living.”

“An' we do have one other piece of good news,” Apple Bloom puts in more cheerfully. “As bad off as Button Mash is, his condition is otherwise stable.”

“Really?” I ask with rising hope.

“Yeah,” Scootaloo agrees. “The doctors are baffled what happened to Button Mash, but they do agree that his condition isn't getting any worse. Not as long as they keep him on life support.”

“Life support?” I ask more sadly.

Scootaloo nods sadly as she says, “It's necessary to sustain him at this point but, as long as it continues, it buys us time.”

“Time we'll use to help solve this problem!” Apple Bloom cries out cheerfully with a curved swing of a forehoof.

I look down with worry as I say, “I'm really worried about Button Mash. I hope he's okay.”

“He's certainly not okay for the moment,” Scootaloo reports bluntly.

“Scootaloo!” Apple Bloom complains to her for not softening that particular blow.

“But that's okay,” Scootaloo goes on to say, “because we're going to do everything in our power to change this. We won't stop till our dear classmate . . .” she pauses a moment as she flashes me a teasing grin, “. . . and your new special somepony is cured of whatever this fiasco is.”

“Really?” I ask with renewed rising hope.

“Hey! We're the Cutie Mark Crusaders!” Scootaloo fiercely cheers. “And we never quit when the going gets tough. This is simply yet another challenge before us that we'll tackle and we'll keep on tackling until it gets all better.”

“YEAH!” the three of us cheer in unison. We even slam one of our forehooves together between us.

Now that definitely makes me feel better! By knowing that my club sisters are behind me one-hundred percent, I certainly feel empowered.

Author's Note

Definitely one of the shorter chapters of this story, I know, but an important one nonetheless. This chapter dealt more with the information Sweetie's club sisters are able to find which also puts more focus on their objectives.

And, of course, the Crusaders continue to be emotionally supportive for Sweetie. Helping other ponies is their thing, after all. I have to show that to remain in character for them.

Chapter 11: Ideal Reinforcement

It is a somber trot for me as my club sisters and I make our way back into Ponyville. In my case, I am wearing a dark cloak with a hood pulled over me. The one problem with that is my new crooked black horn sticks out the front of it as a tell-tale sign of my new true heritage. I just hope no pony looks at me too closely. Just in case, we travel in the later evening when there are fewer ponies on the street and the darker conditions hide my physical discrepancies better.

As I proceed, I notice a generally good mood in the air that, until now, I usually took for granted. I was like these ponies until recently as I frolicked in happy glee.

But now it feels like a taunt. I sense this new separation between me and the town I've grown up in and know so well. At this point I know every street and back corner of this town better than the back of my hoof because the back of my hoof has recently changed. That, and the fact that Ponyville is unusually well explored between me and the rest of the Crusaders. We searched this town up and down looking for activities which could help us discover our cutie marks. After that, we got busy helping various clients discover or re-discover their cutie mark destiny. Their initial consultation usually occurs at our clubhouse but, after that, we got to get them to explore various activities so that they can find their destiny too.

Rinse and repeat.

I remember this one time when my big sister, Rarity, had a disastrous experience with her mane because she mixed up a formula between her and Pinkie Pie. Most of Rarity's beautiful mane fell out. What was left she attempted to conceal under a cloak like the one I'm wearing now, or so I've heard. I wasn't too involved in that fiasco but I have thought about it in an attempt to understand how she must have felt back then.

Now, however, I don't think I have to imagine that anymore. I think I know exactly how she felt back then.

It's painful to feel that separation and distance between me and the town I love so much. It feels like I'm no longer welcome within it. Like I've unwillingly become an outsider. It almost feels like exile.

As I think about that, I am startled to notice a cold feeling sink into my chest again. It just settles there, too. It feels like a black pit in my soul. Pain squeezes me in a way I can best describe as aching loneliness. I'm not completely foreign to an experience like this but it unnerves me that the last time I felt something like this was when I used my new changeling magic. It's especially unsettling to realize that this feeling likely is a result of evil changeling hunger. I don't know too much about it because I've never been an evil changeling before and I have very little experience with them, but I am really worried that this empty feeling inside of me is going to get worse. I don't want to think about solving that problem by feeding off other's love either because I know, in my heart, I'm not really a monster. If that was my only solution to solving this problem then I think I'd rather starve.

I am shaken loose from my dark reverie when I notice my club sisters take a turn I do not expect.

“Wait! Where are you two going?” I ask in confusion. “Ponyville Hospital is that way,” I inform as I briefly lift my black, hole-filled hoof and point in the direction of the Hospital.

“We know,” Scootaloo acknowledges. “But we're not going to Ponyville Hospital.”

I tilt my head as I ask, “We're not? You told me we were going to meet Starlight Glimmer and she is at the Hospital.”

“More like was at the Hospital,” Scootaloo corrects.

“She was indeed at thah hos-pital last we checked,” Apple Bloom informs. “However, she told us to meet back toe-gether at her office in the Castle.”

“And she added that, if she isn't there yet, to just wait for her at that location,” Scootaloo adds.

“So . . . she's not staying at the hospital?” I check with concern.

Both of my fellow Crusaders shake their head, then Scootaloo informs, “I won't claim to fully understand this but magic gauze needs time to saturate into a unicorn's horn which thereby repairs it somehow, and that simply takes time.”

“So Starlight was expected to be discharged from thah hos-pital soon,” Apple Bloom puts in. “After that, she just needs to change into a new batch of magic gauze once per day until her horn fully hee-yalls. Until then, she's instructed to not use her magic.”

“Oh!” I blink. “Okay. Then I guess we're making our way to the castle.”

Scootaloo nods in agreement as she confirms, “That's the plan.”

I give them a worried look as I ask, “Do you two really think we can convince her that I'm really Sweetie Belle?”

“We've been over this!” Scootaloo lightly complains as she stomps a hoof into the earth. “We'll both be right beside you and we'll do everything we can to make sure she believes you.”

“Yeah!” Apple Bloom confidently agrees. “So don't ya worry, Sweetie Belle. Together, we'll fix it so that everything becomes as right as rain.”

“Okay,” I agree nervously with a thin smile.

We continue our way to Starlight's Crystal Tree Castle.

“Come in!” calls out Starlight's slightly muffled voice due to the short distance and for being on the other side of the door we knocked on.

Apple Bloom nods happily as she says, “Good. Starlight is indeed here.”

“Then let's go!” Scootaloo decides as she opens the door. After that, Scootaloo and Apple Bloom rapidly step inside. I do follow them, but much more slowly since I still feel very nervous.

My fears get partially replaced with sympathy when I see Starlight at her desk with a big wad of glowing cloth wrapped around her horn which makes her horn appear three times thicker. During that moment, I see her attempt to write something on a piece of paper using her mouth. Before I arrive at her desk, she finishes whatever she is working on then spits out the pen. She glowers at her own mouth writing as if unsatisfied with the results. Because I see that, I am guessing it's been a while since she used her mouth for writing. That experience was likely replaced with decades of horn writing instead.

Now, personally, I'm at the opposite corner with that problem. I'm more accustomed to mouth writing and, conversely, I'm still getting used to horn writing.

“Don't worry! You'll get used to it again!” Scootaloo assures cheerfully. She likely said that for the same reason as my observation of Starlight.

Starlight sighs as she shakes her head while still looking at her document before saying, “This takes me back to the time I've first practiced my horn writing with Sunburst before he took off after discovering his cutie mark, only now,” she uses her face to gesture to the document she just made, “my mouth writing seems about as sloppy as my horn writing used to be.” She sighs again. “Although I have to say my horn writing might not be that much of an improvement. I'm bad enough that I could partially read Star Swirl's old manuscripts.”

“But he was one of the greatest wizards of all time!” Apple Bloom notes with a surprised blink. “Was he really that bad at it?”

“It tripped up my teacher for almost a week straight when she encountered one of his original books,” Starlight informs as she looks up at us. “There must have been a really good scribe to translate the rest of his work one thousand years ago because the vast majority of Star Swirl's work was far more legible.”

“Wow!” Apple Bloom exclaims before taking a moment of silence while glancing at me then looks back to Starlight as she informs, “Well, we did it.” She gestures to me. “This here is Sweetie Belle.”

I sigh as I attempt to gather my courage before reaching up with a hoof and pulling back the black hood, thus fully revealing my new changeling head into the light. When I do that, I wince slightly as my eyes fully emerge into the light. It's as if my eyes grew accustomed to the darker conditions and need a few seconds to adjust to the brighter light again. Either that, or it's just in my head.

“Well,” Starlight says slowly with a blink, “this is quite a situation here.”

“Are you okay, Starlight?” I ask her in concern. I inwardly wince at my own voice again. I just can't get used to that! I sound like a guy and it's really throwing me off.

Starlight casts a small sigh as she says, “Well . . . my present circumstances is a little inconvenient but I've helped out this town in the past with Winter Wrap-up without the use of my horn. As it turns out, that was very good practice for me.” She shakes her head a bit as she says reassuringly, “It shouldn't take longer than a few days for my horn to recover. Three days tops, or so my doctor says. It's only a hairline fracture.”

“Huh.” Scootaloo squints one eye at Starlight. “Does that mean the crack is as small as a single hair?”

“Basically,” Starlight answers, “but it doesn't take much damage to be disruptive for a unicorn's attempt to cast magic.”

“You could do it anyway if ya have to, right Starlight?” Apple Bloom checks.

“Yes, but it's best not to until the damage fully recovers,” Starlight informs. “If the doctor's advice is ignored at this point, especially if a really high level spell is cast during the healing process, then it has a chance to make the damage worse. During that time, the spell that is attempted to be cast might also misfire.” She shakes her head. “You don't want to be in the room during an attempt to cast a strong spell with a damaged horn. A lot of further damage could occur during that moment, and I'm not just talking about the spell caster either.”

“Huh. If only Spike were here,” Apple Bloom laments. “Something tells me that he could take over some of Twilight's duties if she had the same condition.”

“That probably actually happened while those two grew up,” Starlight guesses while looking cornerwise up and tapping her lip with a forehoof thoughtfully while also wearing a light, playful grin.

I smile fondly as I say, “Although, now that you bring that up, I do recall a time when Spike wasn't as helpful as an assistant. He was a younger dragon at the time so he was more antsy and impatient. Also, he wasn't as good at writing either. There were many words he didn't know how to spell.”

“Yeah. I remember that, too,” Scootaloo also recalls. “He had much more practice after all those letters he sent to Princess Celestia on Twilight's behalf.”

Apple Bloom giggles for a moment before she announces, “Ya know what, Crusaders? After all that practice Spike got with writing over the years, he should write a book about his experiences. Ah bet a lot of ponies would love to read it, too. Most of Equestria is interested to learn anything they can about their new princess, and Spike can offer them a new perspective.”

“Hey! That's a good idea!” Scootaloo agrees cheerfully. “We should totally write Spike a letter encouraging him to do that.”

“And, once we're done with the letter, we'll have Gabby deliver it to him!” I add enthusiastically.

“Yeah!” the three of us cheer together before slapping our hooves together between us.

Watching us with a fond blink, and at me in particular, Starlight eventually says, “I've got to admit, if you really are an imposter, you've really done your homework. Only a true member of the Crusaders can think so alike to the rest of the team, and for you to possess Sweetie Belle's memories to the degree that you do . . . that would be really uncanny for a changeling imposter.” She nods at the other two Crusaders before she adds, “Right before my very eyes, they've already verified some of the memories Sweetie Belle would have.”

“That's because I am Sweetie Belle!” I cry out insistently. “Somehow you're little experiment did this to me!”

“But this,” she gestures to me with a hoof, “didn't happen to Sunburst and me when we tested the same procedure earlier. In fact, the results we got this time were dramatically different compared to our earlier tests. It's as if a very unusual factor was already in place before we tried together.”

“If this changeling was truly an imposter, don't ya think she'd try to hide it better?” Apple Bloom pointed out. “She didn't hesitate to help ya with your experiment because she thought she had nothing to hide.” Apple Bloom waves a hoof at Starlight. “So yer experiment must have done this to her somehow, and ya got to fix this! For Sweetie Belle's sake.”

“And Button Mash's sake!” I add insistently.

“See?” Scootaloo says to Starlight as she gestures to me. “This is exactly how the real Sweetie Belle would behave. She wouldn't just be concerned about herself but her special somepony as well.”

Starlight nods as she says, “I agree. Chances are very strong that, if I am not dealing with the real Sweetie Belle in front of me, then I'm at least dealing with a very deluded changeling.”

I blink as I ask, “Really? You think that's possible?”

“No!” Apple Bloom pounds a hoof on top of Starlight's desk. “This is Sweetie Belle. Ah just know it in ma gut. Ah'd stake both of my hind legs on that.”

“Me too!” Scootaloo fiercely agrees as she, too, pounds the top of Starlight's desk.

I, however, look down with worry. It had not occurred to me to consider that I might be a real changeling that was somehow hypnotized into thinking I'm Sweetie Belle or something like that. That possibility also brings up another dark theory; if it's true that I'm not the real Sweetie Belle, then where is she instead? Chances are strong that she's probably nowhere that's good.

When I think about that, that cold feeling intensifies in my chest.

“Listen, my little ponies, I want to assure you that I'm not dismissing any possibility,” Starlight assures with a lift of a lilac hoof. “I also can't ignore the chance that this is the real Sweetie Belle. If she is then she's the victim here and I need to do everything in my power to help.” She turns her head to look out a window behind her before adding, “There is also Button Mash's situation to consider.” She looks back at us. “I asked Sweetie Belle to think about somepony dear to her heart during the experiment. Button Mash's cutie mark did indeed show up and I don't consider it a coincidence that something went wrong with him, too, at the same time something went wrong with Sweetie Belle and me. Whatever caused this, it is likely based on the same reason.

“Plus, there is also this to consider: If this changeling is an imposter of Sweetie Belle, how was she able to draw upon Button Mash's cutie mark at all while we used the Map? Real affection was required to do that. I already know that because of my earlier tests with Sunburst. So, again, if this isn't the real Sweetie Belle then that means it's a changeling that still genuinely cares for Button Mash for some reason.”

“Do you have any idea why all this has happened?” Scootaloo asks Starlight anxiously.

“Right now I have no idea,” Starlight reluctantly admits as she closes her eyes for a second. When she opens her eyes again we can see her eyes filled with determination. “But I will find out! Rest assured I'll do everything I can to get to the bottom of this mystery.”

“Does Button have that kind of time?” I ask in concern.

“He should,” Starlight says with less confidence than she hoped. “He's on life support now. That won't solve the problem forever but it should buy us valuable time.”

“How much time does he have?” I ask with deepening worry.

“Likely plenty,” Starlight assures. “More than I will require, I assure you.”

I am startled by a knock on the door behind us.

“Come in!” Starlight calls to the one behind the door.

“Is that such a good idea?” Scootaloo quickly asks in concern while the door behind is in the middle of opening. “You can see what Sweetie looks like right now. We don't want to start a panic.”

“Relax,” Starlight soothes with a lift of a hoof. “Considering our current situation, I've called in an ideal reinforcement.”

“You summoned me, Headmare Starlight?” politely calls Ocellus, the teal blue changeling with transparent pink clear fin down her head and neck. On her back is what appears to be a ladybug-like shell. When I look back at her, I see her taken severely aback when she sees me.

“Yes. Please come in and shut the door, Ocellus,” Starlight instructs, “and please let me assure you that I do believe you are in no danger here. However, you might be able to help me reduce the severity of the dilemma I have before me.”

“But I thought . . .” Ocellus began in confusion before shaking her head then proceeds to cooperate. She fully steps into the office and shut the door behind her. But, after that, she continues to hang back nervously.

“Please join us here,” Starlight requests with a “come hither” gesture of a hoof.

Reluctantly, Ocellus obeys but she continues to keep a wary eye on me. Noticing that pains me.

When Ocellus arrives beside us in front of Starlight's desk, she finally notices something else alarming.

“Oh my goodness! Are you okay, Starlight?” Ocellus asks her Headmare with concern. “What happened to your horn?”

Reminded of that, Starlight rubs her horn with a hoof for a moment as she explains, “This was caused by an accident last night. I was performing a magical experiment which damaged my horn, put Button Mash into a magically induced coma, and turned Sweetie Belle into the changeling you see before you.”

“What?!” Ocellus exclaims in surprise as she whips her gaze towards me. “This is Sweetie Belle? Really?”

I cringe from her nervously. I don't like it when others look upon me like that, though I definitely understand why they do it.

“I probably should explain everything from the beginning,” Starlight decides. “And, as I do, please understand, Ocellus, that I'd rather not spread this news too widely for the moment.”

“Oh. Um . . . okay,” Ocellus tentatively agrees.

“And, mind you as well, I don't completely understand the situation myself. I'll simply explain what I know so far,” says Starlight.

For approximately the next ten minutes, Starlight explains the situation to Ocellus to the best of her knowledge.

“And that's the gist of it,” Starlight says in conclusion to her recap.

“Ah . . . okay,” Ocellus says with a bit of a cringe. “So . . . what do you want me to do about it?”

Starlight leans back in her chair and collects her hooves together in front of her. She taps them together a bit as she says, “I am giving you, Ocellus, a new assignment. Given the circumstances that I just explained, I want you to keep an eye on Sweetie Belle here.”

“Because you don't trust me,” I say sadly.

“It's more than just that,” Starlight tells me. “Even if you are right and you are indeed Sweetie Belle, I can think of no one else more qualified to look after you than Ocellus right now. She can help explain anything you need to know about changelings and help you adapt to your current circumstances. I really am doing this for your benefit too. Also, if you really are Sweetie Belle, then you have nothing to worry about. By watching you, Ocellus can constantly verify your innocence to anypony who asks. Furthermore, she can help explain the situation to anypony who starts to become a problem because of our new apparent circumstances. By traveling with someone the town trusts, the validation she grants can help assuage other ponies’ concerns.

“Admit it,” Starlight taps her hooves together again, “if our situation were reversed, you'd do the same thing. If something like this had happened to me or one of your C-M-C friends here, you'd be grateful to have a resource like Ocellus present, for no other creature in this town is more likely to spot and solve a problem involving changelings other than her. She is a changeling so she's the most qualified to deal with this situation.

“Besides, she's your friend too, right? The real Sweetie Belle would welcome her compony for that reason alone.”

“That's true,” I agree as I pass Ocellus a soft smile, but my look of concern returns as I look back at Starlight and ask, “But Ocellus here isn't a native of Ponyville, she is a visiting student.”

“Your point?” Starlight checks.

“Well, I . . . I don't want to be a burden to her or anypony else. Ocellus has to go home sometime. I don't think this can be a permanent solution.”

Starlight waves me off as she says, “This doesn't need to be a permanent solution. It just needs to work until I solve the core problem. My plan for you is to return you to your true form if that hasn't happened already. I'm also going to solve Button Mash's problem and make sure he makes a full recovery.”

“Actually, Sweetie Belle, I'm with Starlight on this one,” Scootaloo agrees as she looks at me. “Maybe Ocellus here can teach you how to change forms. If you can do that, you can simulate your old form as Sweetie Belle again. That would take yet another step to solving the problem. After all, if you can at least simulate your old form, then you don't need to wear that cloak anymore to hide.

“Besides,” Scootaloo swishes her purple tail behind her excitedly, “don't you think it might be fun to master those abilities?”

“I guess,” I partially accept.

“Changelings can fly, Sweetie Belle!” Scootaloo reminds me. When she makes that announcement her voice grew a great deal more serious. I can even detect a note of pain in her voice when she said that and it's easy to decipher why.

“Oh yeah.” I look back at my black bug-like wings. “I suppose they can.”

“Changelings don't even need to disguise themselves to fly,” Scootaloo adds. “Their natural forms can do it too.”

“There is a difference, though,” Ocellus informs. “Flying as a changeling in our natural forms versus flying in a disguised form like a pegasus involves very different flight techniques.”

“I, um . . . well . . . are you sure you want me to do that?” I ask Scootaloo in discomfort. “Flying is something you always wanted to do. If I do it instead, it kind of feels like I’m taunting you.”

I see Scootaloo look down with an expression of sad acceptance. She's quiet for a moment before saying, “It's fine, Sweetie Belle. I've mostly accepted my limitations.” She focuses back on me with renewed determination. “Besides, something had already occurred that really bothers me. Do you remember Thunderlane's little brother, Rumble?”

Starlight observes me carefully while I answer that question, likely in an attempt to observe how well I recall that memory and see how much I behave like the “real” Sweetie Belle as I answer.

“Of course! How can I forget? Rumble disturbed our entire day camp at one time because he didn't want to participate in our other club activities, and at the time, he did that because he was afraid to get a cutie mark in anything other than flying.”

“Right,” Scootaloo agrees with a nod. “Except something occurred to me after that day that really bothered me. We,” she gestures between the three of us, “are the founding members of the C-M-C, and none of us can fly, including the one pegasi member in our group. Namely me. So . . .” the very hoof she used to gesture between us returns to the ground as she goes on to say, “. . . what exactly are we going to do if we encounter a foal who really does have a destiny to fly? Or we don't even have to go that far. What if we encounter a foal whose destiny has something to do with flying like . . .” she pauses a moment as she thinks about it.

“Weather control,” Apple Bloom offers in Scootaloo's stead.

“Exactly!” Scootaloo enthusiastically agrees with Apple Bloom then looks back at me. “I'm bothered by the idea that all three of us couldn't help Rumble if it really was his destiny to fly or something related to that.”

“None of us are experts at everything anyway,” I point out. “All we really do is encourage other ponies to explore. We just give them a nudge in the right direction.”

Scootaloo swishes her tail behind her again as she says, “I know. You're right, but I'd still feel better if at least one of us was more prepared to help somepony like Rumble that day. Even if he never gets a cutie mark for something like that, what will we do when some other pegasi comes along and that really is his or her destiny? The more versatile our skills are, the better. Even if your current situation gets solved later and you revert to your true form as a foal unicorn, this potentially temporary opportunity to gather this experience might help you to help some other client we could get someday.”

“Ya got to admit, Sweetie Belle, Scootaloo has a point,” Apple Bloom agrees with her orange filly friend.

“For those who do develop a destiny for flying specifically, or some other profession related to the air, the best thing all of Equestria can offer is to move to Cloudsdale and continue their training there,” Scootaloo further adds. “But, as you well know, not everypony lives near Cloudsdale. Even if they do, they might not want to leave their home town which is filled with their friends and family. Even if it could help them with their cutie mark destiny, many foals aren't ready to make that tough call. Having alternatives would be helpful to them.”

“Like training with Rainbow Dash or Thunderlane,” Apple Bloom proposes. “Those two are native to Ponyville and they're both Wonderbolts.”

I shrug as I say, “Sometimes all we can do is point a foal at another pony who could be a better mentor for them than us.”

“But if that foal didn't know his or her destiny should be flying, a little inspiration might go a long way,” Scootaloo points out. “For that, one of us needs some experience in that affair.”

“In that case, I wouldn't hesitate to guide them to you between the three of us,” I argue. “For a filly who hasn't truly flown yet, none of us knows more about it than you. You could fill that role.”

Scootaloo shakes her head sadly as she says, “Knowledge of something is so much weaker than actual experience, because remember . . . to inspire a pony to discover their actual destiny and who they truly are, we have to reach them on a very deep level. If knowledge alone was enough, we could just hoof them a textbook but how often did that work for us as we helped our other clients? You should admit that it takes much more than that.”

“Well, I . . . I'd be happy to teach you flying if that's something you're really interested in,” Ocellus offers me happily.

Scootaloo startles me when she rushes towards me and puts both of her forehooves on each of my shoulders and stares into my eyes pleadingly. While she does that she begs me, “Please, Sweetie Belle, say yes to that offer. I want at least one of us to really know what it's like to fly. If you do, then you can describe it to me and I can enjoy it sort of on the side.”

“Vicariously,” Ocellus offers to Scootaloo.

“Huh?” Scootaloo blinks at the young teal changeling.

“It means to enjoy something through another,” Ocellus explains.

Scootaloo winces and shakes her head as she says, “Yeah, whatever. I'm not a dictionary.”

“Is this really important to you?” I ask Scootaloo trepidatiously. “I don't want to hurt you. Apple Bloom is the earth pony, I am the unicorn, and you are our resident pegasus. I don't want you to feel like I'm stepping on your hooves or anything.”

“It's fine,” Scootaloo assures with another look of sad acceptance. “Even you might lose this opportunity soon. You should make the most of it while you still can.”

“And while you do that, I'll do everything I can to solve the core problem at my end,” Starlight promises. “Sunburst is working on it, too, and I think I'll send a letter to Twilight about this shortly.”

I grin at Starlight as I say to her, “Just like Twilight did for her own mentor back when she first moved to Ponyville. Now you are her former student and sometimes doing the same thing.”

“I, uh . . . don't do it too often,” Starlight says with a light shrug. “At least, I don't like to burden Twilight with my problems when I know she's dealing with enough of her own. Instead of that, I tend to write her personal letters as a friend. I know she finds that a great comfort. She said so herself in her letters and I know her well enough to realize she's telling the truth.

“However, she also told me she'd like to be informed if there is an emergency that involves the fate of any of her friends or the entire realm. In that case, she urged me to notify her as soon as possible. I think this situation might endure long enough that she'd want to know. If she does get informed then that also gives me access to her resources, too, and it's quite a bit more expansive than what I have.”

I shrug as I say, “Well, at the very least, it would be nice to see Twilight again.”

“You should notify King Thorax about this situation also,” Ocellus advises Starlight. “Sweetie Belle's situation might be temporary but, for as long as it persists, I think he'd be very interested and concerned about this new development.”

Ocellus then looks at and says to me, “Forgive me for saying this but the last time any of us at the hive saw a changeling who had the form that you have right now . . . well . . . let's just say it brings back bad memories that we prefer to bury in the past. If this is a sign of something we missed then he'd want to know.”

“You bring up a good point, Ocellus,” Starlight agrees. “I think I'll do that, too.”

“And what should I do in the meantime?” I ask.

“Leave the magical research to Sunburst and I,” Starlight instructs. “I'll also do whatever I can to help Button Mash. You just focus on yourself because you definitely have a lot on your plate. For example, you still need to inform the rest of your family about your situation.”

“Oh yeah,” I recall very nervously.

“Don't worry, Sweetie Belle!” Apple Bloom cries out cheerfully. “The C-M-C have got your back, and now you got Ocellus looking after you, too.”

I sigh as I say, “I guess.” Then I smile at them gratefully before saying, “Thanks gals. This really helps me feel better.”

Author's Note

Ever since this story was first posted, it revealed that the adorable changeling student Ocellus would be part of the main cast for this story. Well, tah-dah! Here she finally is.

Before I wrote this chapter, it also floated in my head that Scootaloo would eventually bring up the subject about a changelings ability to fly and encourage Sweetie to explore it, but I didn't know exactly when it would show up. As I wrote it in this chapter, part of me wondered if it was too soon, but upon later re-readings of this chapter, it appears to fit here snuggly.

Chapter 12: Rejection

After taking a deep breath, I try to reach up my black, hole-filled hoof up to the door of my parents’ place but, when I do so, I notice my own hoof shaking. I knew I was nervous but I didn't realize it would be that visible.

“It's okay, Sweetie Belle,” Apple Bloom tells me encouragingly. “We got ya back.”

“Yeah! You can do this, Sweetie Belle,” Scootaloo tells me in an equally encouraging voice.

I hate to let them down, but I lower my hoof from the door.

“This feels so weird to me,” I tell my friends. “I have never come to my home . . . or rather, my parents’ home . . . feeling this nervous to enter.”

I look over my shoulder to see my friends. I'm additionally comforted to know that Ocellus also hangs a bit further back. I feel as if Starlight is right. Having one extra creature here that the town trusts to vouch for me does feel comforting, but I also feel guilty that my problems seem to be putting her life on hold for the moment. She's done nothing to deserve this burden. My main consolation is the fact she seems happy to help, though I do sense some conflicting feelings within her as well. Most likely it is because of the form I have which brings back bad memories for the young changeling.

“There are some times in the past that come close to this, though,” I admit to my friends. “Like the times I came home with a bad report card or less than stellar results on an important test. I felt pretty nervous to return home then.”

“Your parents don't strike me as that harsh,” Scootaloo says to me with a wince while rubbing the back of her neck. “To me, they seem pretty easy-going.” Scootaloo looks around at the others here as she asks aloud, “Am I the only one to think like that?”

I shake my head at Scootaloo as I say, “No. You're right. My parents are pretty easy-going. Maybe I take advantage of that too many times. Maybe I'm spoiled.” I look down with worry. “Still . . . I hate to disappoint them. Because I love them so much, I can't stand the thought of looking up at them and noticing I made them sad or angry somehow.” I look back at my friends. “Maybe it is because it is so rare, it hits me so hard when it finally does happen.”

I see my friends look at each other sympathetically. Both of them have some painful issues with their parents. In one case they are frequently absent and, in the other case, they are downright dead. Despite that, they both feel keenly aware of how they would have felt in my place.

As for Ocellus, she seems to have a hard time looking me in the eyes right now. Part of me kept expecting her to share some sage advice at some time because she is older than me and my friends, despite my current appearance. But, instead of that, she seems painfully shy. Nervous, even. It's as if she has no idea what to say to give me any comfort in this situation.

When my eyes finally do meet with Ocellus, she gives me a shy expression and a shrug. It is an apologetic look that seems to say, “I'm sorry. I wish I could be more helpful right now.”

Ocellus is not just older than us. She channeled the energy of Harmony more than once. It's easy to assume she should be an expert at friendship because of that, but the original Elements of Harmony, including my older sister, is certainly not without faults. I learned the hard way during a soapbox derby race that adults are not always right.

But since I've never been an adult before, except during that one time I was magically transformed into one (which, in hindsight, probably shouldn't really count), it's so easy to take for granted that adults can be flawed. They are older than us foals. Those extra years seem like it should cause us to assume that adults are simply better than us foals. If they remain capable of making mistakes, don't they make them less often? Since the answers seems to be yes, I still feel like I have to trust them by default.

I have to remind myself that Ocellus isn't an adult even by the standards of her race. Older than me, yes, but she's still not quite there yet. And, even after all her time here, she's still learning pony ways. When it comes to years of experience with our culture, I actually am older than her, which is weird to think about.

I sigh again as I attempt to regather my courage. When I finally feel I'm ready, I reach up to knock on the door with a more steady hoof.

But I grow surprised when I notice the door unlatching before my hoof has a chance to rap on the door. Were they standing on the other side or is this just a coincidence?

Well, based on the magic color that surrounds the doorknob of the house, I already know this is my mother answering the door. So, when I see her after the door fully opens, I am not surprised. I am also not surprised to see her surprise in seeing me either. Her attention lingers on me longer than I care for, but eventually she does widen her attention enough to notice my friends standing here too.

“Uh . . . Hey there, Missus Cookie. What's sup?” Scootaloo asks in order to inject some casualness into this awkward moment. “Ah . . . may we come in?” she asks further before my mother has a chance to answer her last question.

My mother blinks as she says, “Oh! Scootaloo and Apple Bloom. Welcome.” Her delight sinks into concern as she goes on to ask. “Where's Sweetie Belle? I had assumed she was with you two.”

“Yeah, about that . . .” Apple Bloom pauses as she spares a look to me before returning her gaze to my mother. “. . . we need ta talk. It's all important-like.”

“Oh! Well, in that case, come in,” my mother invites us as she steps aside and sweeps a hoof into our home followed by the comment, “Make yourselves at home.”

“Thanks, Missus Cookie,” Scootaloo says before we all trot into the home.

As we proceed inside, I notice my mother's gaze lingering on me wearily. After we all step inside, I then notice my mom sweep a look outside of our home as if expecting one more pony to enter. Probably me, in this case. She has no idea her daughter already entered. I'm not used to this reaction from her, but I can't blame her either. Right now I'm not even a girl let alone a pony entirely.

“We just recently had dinner,” my mother announces before shutting the door. I notice a bit of worry linger on her face as she does so.

“By 'we', Ah assume ya mean ya an' yer husband?” Apple Bloom asks. “So Ah guess that means Hondo is home too.”

“In that case, we should speak to him as well,” Scootaloo advises.

“He's reading the paper right now,” my mother informs us in a slight tone of objection. When she says that, I realize she's probably right. My father often likes to do that after having a meal.

Scootaloo lifts a hoof as she says, “Trust me, this is important, Missus C.”

“Oh.” My mother's worried look deepens as she puts a hoof to her chest. “Alright. We can talk in the living room. It's right over-”

“I know the way,” I interrupt my mom then make my way there.

Behind me, I notice awkward silence descend which I struggle to ignore. Being here under these circumstances is already taxing all the courage I managed to gather.

Scootaloo and Apple Bloom, of course, also know the way. They follow me with no problem.

After I arrive and sit down in one of our comfy couches, I notice how Ocellus's gaze is wandering around the living room. Only in that moment does it occur to me that the young changeling has never been in our house before, at least that I'm aware of. She appears to have a look to her face like she's exploring an alien world that she doesn't feel threatened by. More like delighted. If I had to judge her thoughts based on her expression alone, it probably would go something like, “Oh wow! I can't believe they invited me into their home! How cool is that? And look at all the wonderful stuff they have!”

This reminds me of Silversteam's former fascination with stairs which I used to think was strange until she explained that her race never required them underwater.

Occasionally there is a look of confusion on the blue changeling's face as if she couldn't identify some of the things we have in our living room. That strongly gave me a “fish out of water” vibes.

That, in turn, is fascinating for me to observe. Because of their shape-shifting abilities, one would think that a changeling could potentially fit in anywhere, but that doesn't explain the expression I'm seeing on her face now.

That feels strange to me, too. When I look around this living room, all I see is something very familiar. This is the kind of place I grew up in all my life. I couldn't possibly be more native.

“Alright. What's this about?” grumbles my father as he trots into the living room. He is shortly followed by his wife. “Oh hey, Scootaloo and Apple Bloom. I thought Sweetie Belle would be with you.”

“Ah . . . no,” Apple Bloom answers with a sheepish look on her face.

“Speaking of Sweetie Belle, I got a bone to pick with you two,” my mother informs my friends with a look of minor annoyance.

“What did we do?!” Scootaloo asks with a startled voice.

My mother lifts a hoof as she says, “Now you know I don't mind Sweetie sleeping over at either one of your houses, but I'm afraid I must insist to be informed before it happens so that I don't worry. That way I'll at least know which one of your places she's off to.”

“And we know she's not at her sister's place,” my father added. “I know because I checked with her after work.”

“How is Rarity?” I ask with hope in my voice, but in truth, I'm kind of tempted to change the subject a bit.

“She's . . . fine,” my father answers me hesitantly as he gives me a strange look as if asking me, “What's it to you?”

My discomfort grows. I am really unaccustomed to the look I am receiving from my parents right now. It's actually scarier than when they are mad at me. I don't feel good when that happens either, but at least there is also love and recognition in their looks. I'm so accustomed to that that I couldn't imagine, before today, what they look like when they gaze at me as if I'm a stranger.

Worse still, I look like a potentially hostile stranger.

As I observe this, the cold feeling in my chest increases.

Eventually I see my father shake his head as he finally decides to address the elephant in the room. When he does that, though, I am hurt to notice him look at my friends as he asks them instead of me, “I'm sorry, but who is he?”

I wince at that question for two reasons. Number one, the lack of recognition. Number two, being referred to with the pronoun “he”. A feeling of wrongness sinks deeper into me and makes the emptiness within me ache.

I'm a girl, for pony's sake! This shouldn't be happening to me!

“Well, you see . . .” Scootaloo pauses as she winces and rubs a hoof behind her neck with discomfort. “. . . that's what we came here to talk to you about.”

I'm having so much trouble finding my voice right now. Part of it is the discomfort of hearing a stranger’s voice speak whenever I use it. I don't want anything to confirm the reality I am in any deeper than it's already happened. That's why I feel like I have to rely on my friends now far more than I usually do. I am so grateful that there are here to support me.

However, when I look over at them, I notice them glancing at each other as if each of them wishes the other to deliver the bad news. I sigh and gain a dull look when I notice that. I suppose I should have expected that and I can't really blame them.

Meanwhile my parents are looking back and forth anxiously between both of my friends. Sometimes they look at me too but they don't spare more than a quick glance. It's as if they don't wish to acknowledge my presence.

My pain grows deeper.

“There was ah . . . a sort of accident yesterday,” my earth pony friend bravely tries to explain.

“Yeah!” Scootaloo confirms. “What she said.”

“Accident?” my father asks me in alarm. After he asks that, I notice my parents reach a hoof out to each other. They might have done that unconsciously.

“Is this about Sweetie Belle?” my mother asks my friends nervously.

“Well . . . yeah,” Scootaloo admits very nervously then looks at her yellow earth pony friend and nods as if to say, “You tell them the next part.”

“Is she hurt?” my mother asks with rising concern. “Will she be okay?”

“That's, ah . . . complicated to explain,” Apple Bloom says with strong discomfort.

“Complicated how?” my father challenges them. “Tell us where our daughter is!” he suddenly demands with rising fury which is obviously caused by worry.

“Well, Sir, she's right . . . um . . .” my pegasus friend begins but has a hard time finishing. She does look at me to give them both a visual hint of where I am, but I quickly notice my parents took it the wrong way.

“What? Are you telling me this changeling is responsible for our missing daughter?” my father asks as his fury continues to increase. “Where is she?” Next, my father startles me by stomping his way to me and demanding, “TELL US WHERE SHE IS RIGHT NOW!”

I shrivel at my father's furious gaze at me. I have never seen this side of him before. Sure, I have seen him mad before, but it was mixed with love. This time, however, it is pure fury mixed with fear instead of love. I'm not even remotely accustomed to that. Most of the time, at our house, I am surrounded by a casual sense of familiarity.

“Honey,” my mother says a little timidly.

“WHAT?!” my father roars at my mother. When he sees her wince, he immediately regrets his tone of voice with her. He shakes his head in an effort to calm himself down then tries again with a much softer tone, “What is it, Beautiful?”

My mother gulps before answering, “I think we should give them a chance to explain before we toss around accusations.” She looks at me before she goes on to say, “They trust him enough to invite him to our house so he can't be all bad, right? And we know,” she says as she now regards Ocellus, “that not all changelings are bad.”

Now I look over to Ocellus as well. I am quick enough to notice a look of pain mixed with understanding and sad acceptance sink into her giant bug-like eyes. When I see that, something tells me she admitted to her friends in school that she was warned to expect some prejudice against her race for a while after everything that happened. In response, I am guessing that they advised her to stay strong and stick with the program. After all, the longer she is exposed to this village in her true form, the more ponies will grow accustomed to seeing her race as good now. After all, promoting friendship is the entire reason she was invited to that school.

I grow sick to think about that. I hate that “us versus them” mentality. I hate the thought that we could be stuck on one side or another of a potential war simply because of what race we're born as, but I also have to admit that it is difficult for a herbivore-like race to ignore danger instincts when it shows up. It might be a gradually outdated thing now but those instincts were probably there for a very good reason at one time or another.

This reminds me of the tale that pony tribes used to be against each other, too. That pegasi, earth ponies, and unicorns used to see each other as enemies simply because of minor differences. Had that attitude continued, I never would have been blessed with the friends I have today.

And yet, near the date of Twilight's coronation, I was extremely startled to notice that fear and prejudice rear its ugly head again so strongly that it once again invited the evil windigo's back. I had horrified disbelief at the time but then later asked myself, “What other myths out there are also true? My goodness, our world is so much more dangerous than we thought!”

“Well, um, to answer one of your questions,” Scootaloo spoke up when she finally found her voice again, “the good news is Sweetie Belle's condition is stable. It won't get any worse than it already is.”

“And the bad news?” my father asks her fearfully.

“Well, um . . .” She looks at me. “You can ask her yourself.”

My parents both blink at us for a confused moment, then my father asks, “What do you mean?”

“Go on, Sweetie Belle,” Apple Bloom whispers to me as she also nudges me. “Tell 'em who ya are.”

“Also add something that only you would know,” Scootaloo adds in the same volume.

“What are you two whispering about to that . . . thing?” my father asks us cautiously.

I know what my friends are getting at, but there's something else that's been bothering my mind lately. Something I have to know.

“Um . . . Mom, Dad,” I begin in a fearful voice. I hear my voice shaking and it still feels so weird to me to hear a stranger’s voice when I speak. Every time I do I feel like I have an itch I need to scratch but I don't know how or where to scratch.

I notice my parents narrow their eyes at me, but I press on. I have to know!

“Are you two changelings too?” I ask as bravely as I can.

Everyone in the room appears taken aback by my question, but I had to ask because of something I remember Starlight Glimmer had said. According to her, something was already amiss before she even began her magical experiment with me. Also there is the fact she had already done this experiment with Sunburst and it didn't have nearly the same results.

But the aghast expression on my parents’ face reveals to me that I may have missed my mark.

“What?” my father asks me as his fury gathers again. “First you all come to our house to tell us something is wrong with our daughter, a problem that you probably have something to do with.”

Well . . . he's not wrong. I do have something to do with my apparent “disappearance”.

“And now you dare to accuse us of being changelings?” my father goes on to ask.

“I-I just . . . I wanted to-to kn-know if-” I stutter fearfully but am blown away by my father's interrupting reaction.

“GET OUT OF OUR HOUSE NOW, YOU FILTHY MONSTER!” my father roars at me.

I am so numb with shock that I can't even think. That's why my mind is barely processing when my mother rushes in front of me as she begs, “Please, good Sir, please take pity on us! Please tell us where Sweetie Belle is and what you've done with her. We won't get mad. We just want her back! If you have any pity left in your heart, you'll tell us where she is.”

I stare at my mother unblinking as I see her weep in front of me.

“Please! She's our precious little girl. I'll do anything you say. Anything! Do you want my love for her? Then take it! I give it to you freely. I'll give you so much of my love that you'll be stuffed for moons.”

No one else is speaking either. I'm guessing they are as shocked as I am, but I can't tell for sure because I am not looking at them. I only know that they are not speaking up either. It seems we are all at a loss for words.

But around that time I notice a peculiar sensation I have never noticed before. Now that my mother is this close, I can smell something off of her I have never smelt before. It's a sweet fragrance, whatever it is. For some reason, it makes me hungry. At the same time, the cold emptiness in my chest flares with especially painful intensity.

Before I even realize it, I open my mouth and loudly hiss at my mother. It is a gruntal, monstrous-like tone that is terrifying to hear even to my own ears. The fact that it is coming from me would have horrified me more if my mind wasn't already so numb with shock.

Everyone around me is startled and shocked into silence.

Before I speak again, I jam both of my hooves in front of my mouth to contain this unexpected reaction. I then look around and notice how everypony, plus one changeling, is looking at me with horror.

My mother backs away from me and flees to my father's forelegs for protection. She is shaking and whimpering within his chest. He, in turn, is holding her protectively. For a moment he looks at her sympathetically before glaring daggers at me.

As for my mom, I notice her shivering with pain which makes my own pain bleed. I could never imagine myself capable of causing her so much pain.

My mother . . . the mare I love.

Panic explodes within me. All the warmth I usually feel in this house now feels like I'm sitting in an oven that is baking to four hundred degrees. I'm burning in here and I can't breathe! I have to get out of here!

Without warning, I burst from the couch, race out of the living room then charge out the door. My disgusting green changeling magic barely has time to fling open the door before I could crash into it. As it stands, the door does slam against a wall beside it so hard that I might have damaged it, but right now I don't care.

“SWEETIE BELLE, COME BACK!!” both of my friends yell out to me simultaneously.

I can't do that! I have to get away from that house. I don't know exactly where I am going and, right now, I barely care. All I know is my stubby legs just keep racing beneath me but I am not used to my new sense of equilibrium and it quickly gets worse. Before long, I am stumbling forward more than galloping. I struggle against it but I manage only a few more paces before I finally crash into the . . .

. . . Actually, fortunately for me, I crash into a pile of hay that's on the ground for some reason. It cushions my fall, but my mind barely registers that.

I can't get that image out of my head. The expression of my parents and their horrified reaction. Horrified at me! ME . . . a monster! Daddy said it himself.

The thing is, what if he's right? What if I'm a deluded changeling who got hypnotized into thinking I'm Sweetie Belle? That's the other theory that clung to my mind like an icy claw and just refuses to let go.

All of my memories . . . my whole entire life . . . what if it's not real? What if these memories were forcefully shoved in me somehow? Does that mean I'm not the real Sweetie Belle? Am I really a monster?

Existential horror aside, there is one terrifying conclusion I reach if that theory turned out to be true. If I'm the real monster that got deceived into believing myself to be Sweetie Belle, then what happened to the real Sweetie Belle? Is she still out there? Is she captured? Is she hurt?

SWEET CELESTIA! What if she's dead?! Does that mean her parents and friends that I care about so much will never see her again? Will I never see her again? Am I stuck with her memories and never know who I am either?

I close my eyes and cry as I roll into my back in the hay. I also rest my right foreleg just under my crooked black horn.

I am scared. I am so scared right now. For the moment I care what may have happened to the real Sweetie Belle, but if I gain my true memories back as a horrifying monster then I might lose that compassion later. I might forget how to love anyone.

I don't want to forget! I don't want to forget who I am! I don't care if I ever get my true memories back. I always want to think I'm Sweetie Belle!

In my mind, my life scrolls through by at a significantly slower pace than a flash. I remember how I, and the rest of the Crusaders, keep high hooving each other in victory. I remember our songs. I remember our camping trip to Winsome Falls. I remember proudly showing my parents pictures I've made with macaroni. I look up at them as the picture hangs in my mouth while desperately looking for signs of approval on their faces. Despite the fact I always find what I seek whenever I check in a situation like that, some part of my mind stubbornly worries if they won't appreciate it this time. After all, I put so much work into those pictures. I poured my heart and soul into them every time. I did it all for some small token of affection and love.

I remember how I felt when they shared their approval. I remember how much I felt a glow inside. Is it really possible for memories to feel this intense and still be fake? Because, if so, I can't be certain of anything anymore.

When I feel that sense of doubt within me, the coldness grows colder and blacker within me. Unexpectedly, brief flares of anger also lash out of that darkness. During those flashes of anger, horrifying scenes are shown that I can barely comprehend, nor do I want to understand. The thought of blood and guts dripping from the ceiling and walls is enough to cause me to violently shove those horrendous thoughts and feelings back down the deep recesses of my soul.

“Sweetie Belle . . . may I join you?” I hear Ocellus kindly request with much sympathy and understanding in her voice.

“Go away!” I whine to her. “Just leave me alone!”

“I can't. You are hurting,” the changeling replies. “And, as a friend, I cannot abandon you in your hour of need.

“Besides, there is something I think you need to hear. I came here to tell you I understand what you are going through.”

“You . . . you do?” I ask with rising hope. I finally open my eyes and sit up enough to look at her. That's why I can see her nod.

“Yes,” she says along with the nod. “I've seen enough to know changeling hunger when I see it. I grew up with it most of my life. I grew up seeing that hateful hiss in plenty with my brood mates . . . and also within myself when I looked into the mirror.

“You know,” Ocellus resumes as she bends down and tucks her legs beneath her in order to be more eye level with me. “before now, I used to wonder if you're still a pony who got disguised as a changeling, or if you really are a changeling now.” She shakes her head. “I am no longer wondering that. That hiss is all too familiar.”

My ears go flat. I frown as water rises in my eyes. I ask, “So . . . I really am a changeling now? I really am a monster?”

Sometimes the bug-like eyes of Ocellus makes it difficult to tell where she is looking at. There are no eye pupils in there. They are all just one big color. Nevertheless, somehow I can tell she was looking at the ground a moment ago then shifts that look to me. After a long pause, she replies, “Yes.”

My frown sinks further as I look down.

“What's more, that's the evil changeling hunger,” Ocellus informs me. “I'm quite familiar with that, but the good news is I also know how to hoofle it.”

“How?” I immediately ask, feeling desperate. “Please tell me. Make this pain go away.”

“The best way is to run towards your friends, not away from them,” Ocellus answers. “To be surrounded with warmth and affection. And, if you can't do that, then at least draw upon your memories of such warmth and affection.”

I sniff before asking, “Do you really think that will work?”

Ocellus gives me a look as if to imply, “Remember who you are talking to.”

“Oh. Right,” I say sheepishly.

“Close your eyes,” Ocellus instructs.

I do so.

“Think of your friends and loved ones,” she continues.

I do so.

“Any memory could do as long as you feel that warmth of affection.”

The first memory I instinctively draw upon is the day I got my cutie mark. I remember how my friends and I slapped our hooves together when we decided to dedicate our lives to helping other ponies find their cutie marks. Before then we struggled so hard to find it ourselves.

But, when that happened, magic sparked between our hooves. After that, I remember floating as I asked myself, “What's going on?” My friends later told me the same thought crossed their minds, too.

After that, a magical feeling floated up from within me. My body floated too, but it felt like a side effect of the rising feelings from within me.

When the experience passed, we settled back onto the earth. I was dizzy, confused, and disoriented. I wondered what happened because I never experienced that before. One of us asked what happened to us. In response, Diamond Tiara replied, “It's your cutie marks! They're amazing!”

Excitement flared within me as I thought to myself, “What?! Really? It finally happened?”

With no further hesitation, I checked my flank. The surprise I felt at my own cutie mark was somewhat overshadowed by the realization that my friends got their marks too, and I also noticed, with even further rising excitement, how similar theirs were to my own.

“WE GOT OUR CUTIE MARKS!!!” we cried out in unison before slamming our flanks together. “CUTIE MARK CRUSADERS FOREVER!!!”

That explosive sense of pure joy had filled me. I well recall that.

“How do you feel?” Ocellus checks.

“Joy,” I answer in a daze.

“Not cold or empty?” she further probes.

I snap my eyes open when it occurs to me that she's right! While I reminisced about the joy I felt with my club sisters on that day, I completely forgot about my hunger and pain.

Then I snap my attention onto Ocellus when she applies a hoof on my shoulder before telling me, “That is how you do it. That is how you forestall the hunger, at least for a time,” she informs me. “But the only way to do it more permanently is to transform into a more evolved form. Until then, the struggle with the hunger will be constant.”

“What?” I moan as my ears go flat again. “Then . . . how do I transform?”

There are many reasons I want to know.

The moment I ask, she seems to privately realize something startling. After a while she admits, “I, ah . . . really not sure how to explain that one. A changeling's ability to change is something we always had. Something we grew up with and are accustomed to thinking it's normal. It happens instinctively, kind of like a reflex. As such, we never have to explain it to the rest of the pack. Even grubs figure it out without the need to explain.”

“But I'm not a changeling! Or, at least, I didn't grow up as one that I know of.”

“I know. That's a tricky dilemma,” Ocellus admits. “I'm just hoping you figure it out naturally because that's what worked for us. I might be able to walk you through it a little. Like . . . how it feels and such. But, in the end, you'll have to figure it out on your own.”

Then she smiles at me as she says, “But the good news is you are surrounded by love and affection in your life.” She shakes her head. “The rest of the hive in my life didn't grow up like that. That's why it took so long for us to figure out how to evolve our forms.” She shrugs. “Obviously Chrysalis did nothing to encourage this discovery, but I think even she didn't know about it. If she did, she deprived us of that knowledge on purpose, probably so that we'd stay subservient to her.”

“Then what should I do in the meantime?” I ask worriedly.

“Stay with your friends and loved ones,” she encourages me. “Few in the world can ever know our burden. How we are forced to stay with our friends and family to avoid starvation. It is a necessity that will always chain us to each other, but the good news is it can be supplied by any creature. We can feel affection for each other as changelings just as well as any other creature can supply that role.” She points a hoof behind her. “That's why I'm doing so well here with my new group of friends besides the fact that the changeling hunger has greatly diminished ever since my transformation.”

“But the need has not withdrawn completely?” I check with surprise.

Ocellus looks momentarily uncomfortable. Before answering, she checks to see if the coast is clear. Upon confirming it is, she leans forward, puts a hoof beside her mouth, and whispers, “Yes, but that is a secret the hive swore to conceal.”

“Why?” I ask with a confused blink.

Ocellus lowers her hoof as she answers in a more normal tone, “Because that is a weakness which remains with the hive. The changeling hunger for love remains, but it is greatly diminished and we surround ourselves with so much love now, we hardly notice it.

“Conversely, the need for water and food actually increased as if to replace our previous needs.” She sighs before explaining to me, “You have to understand that our race has always survived on anger, fear, and paranoia before. We've become more friendly now but we're not eager to admit our weaknesses yet just in case we get locked down in a war later. It's actually common sense if you think about it.”

“Oh. Right,” I agree in understanding before looking at her in concern. “In that case, are you really getting enough affection from your new friends here to sustain you?”

She smiles at me brightly as she happily reports, “Oh yes!”

“And do they know about this continued need of yours?” I probe further.

Ocellus shook her head as she says, “I swore to Thorax and the rest of the hive that I'd protect this secret for reasons I already stated. I haven't told anypony else other than you because of your situation right now. You're technically a changeling for the moment so you needed to know that, but the others don't need to know.”

Then she looks down as she rubs her hoof on her chin as she muses aloud, “Though I get the feeling Smolder and Gallus suspect the truth. They are pretty shrewd and observant.” She looks back at me as she lowers her hoof. “Sand Bar might also suspect, but I never asked any of them to confirm this theory.”

“And let me guess . . . you want me to protect the secret too?”

Ocellus sighs as she looks down while thinking for a moment, then looks back at me as she says, “I won't insist, but . . . as my friend, I think you'll know what to do and not do. I trust you to make a moral decision. Professor Rainbow Dash and Applejack both agree that it is important to have faith in your friends.”

“There you are, Sweetie Belle!” Scootaloo exclaims as she rushes up to me. “Me and Apple Bloom have been looking for you all over.”

“Where is she now?” I ask Scootaloo.

She shrugs as she says, “Beat's me. All I know is she's looking for you too. You shouldn't have galloped off like that.” A little bit of pain and worry cracks to the surface of Scootaloo's face as she confesses, “I must admit, you really had us worried.”

I look at Ocellus for a moment as I realize she'll probably not share any more changeling secrets with me now that Scootaloo is back, but what she said so far makes me very fascinated and concerned. I want to learn more about her race but now is probably not the time.

“What about my parents? Are they still mad at me?” I check with Scootaloo.

Reluctantly, she nods yes, then explains, “They're just scared, kind of like we are. You also have to know that the entire motivation for that fear is actually love for you. They just don't realize that you are Sweetie Belle.”

“Oh. I see,” I say despondently as I look down.

“They also told us that, for as long as we foolishly think you are Sweetie Belle, the longer it will take for us to search for the 'real’ you.”

“What if they're right?” I ask with concern as I look back up at Scootaloo.

Scootaloo winces as she asks, “Excuse me? What do you mean by that?”

“What I mean is . . . what if I'm not the real Sweetie Belle? What if I'm a deluded changeling who got hypnotized into thinking that I'm Sweetie Belle?”

Scootaloo shakes her head as she says, “I don't know what you are talking about, and frankly, I don't want to know. You are the real Sweetie Belle. End of story, and I don't want to catch you thinking like that again.”

“But-” I complain.

“No buts!” Scootaloo interrupts insistently. “I know who Sweetie Belle is. I grew up with her for a long time now. I even gained my cutie mark with her. We've been on many adventures together. I can tell her apart from a fake, and sister . . .” she points at me firmly, “you ain't no fake . . . so stop talking like that! I mean it!”

“Scootaloo,” I say as my eyes shine with tears.

Scootaloo shuts her eyes tight as she complains, “No. Please don't cry either. You're going to get me started if you do.”

“Then what's our next plan?” Ocellus checks as a means to change the subject.

“Um . . . right,” Scootaloo says before sniffing and wiping her nose. “First we need to find Apple Bloom and regroup.”

“Okay,” I agree with a nod then listen for the next step.

“Then I think we should check with your older sister and see if she'll be just as stubborn as your parents,” Scootaloo proposes. “And speaking of your parents, I think we should let Starlight Glimmer hoofle them next. She does have counseling experience, after all. In fact, I'm surprised she didn't think of it in the first place.”

“Trixie is a counselor too,” Ocellus reminds us.

“Yeah. She is,” Scootaloo reluctantly admits then says no more. She didn't want to admit to a lack of faith in Trixie's abilities as a counselor. She shakes her head before saying, “Anyway, we should go before you attract too much attention.”

I sigh before agreeing, “Right.”

Author's Note

I bet most of you knew that some kind of further conflict would arise because of Sweetie's situation. Maybe you have even foreseen this specific problem coming.

One person I talked about this story with on Discord completely didn't forgive Sweetie's parents in this chapter, but I hope the rest of you see now that nothing is too cut and dry with this chapter. It's a complex social dynamic with no easy answers. Maybe you can see some antagonists in this chapter but there are no true villains. Only victims.

That's the nature of conflict. When people are challenged with it, it doesn't always amount to success the first time. None of this changes the characters' inherent nature to each other. It just adds a layer of confusion and misunderstanding which results in bitterness since it's such a senetive issue.

Chapter 13: My Sister Rarity

At my friends’ insistence, I now stand in front of the door to my sister's shop in Ponyville, the Carousel Boutique. But, after what I suffered at my parents’ home, I am both very nervous and reluctant to knock on the closed door.

“Well? Go on, Sweetie Belle. Knock on it,” my orange filly friend, Scootaloo, encourages me impatiently. “What are you waiting for?”

“She's probably just nervous to see her older sister after what she endured at her parents’ place,” Ocellus guesses wisely. “Having seen that myself, I don't blame her.”

“Yeah, I'm nervous,” I confirm while still eyeing Rarity's front door with worry. “What if Rarity rejects me too? After what I suffered at my Mom and Dad's place, I just don't think I can take much more.”

“Well, I uh . . . You're never going to find out unless you try,” Scootaloo encourages. “If it helps, do you want me to knock on the door?”

“Or y'all can just go on inside,” Apple Bloom reminds us. “This ain't just 'er home, it's a shop and it's open at this hour.”

I moan a bit as I cringe nervously.

Then I squeak, startled, when a hoof lands on my shoulder. So far, the sound I just made sounds the closest to my actual voice that I ever heard since my transformation.

After that, I whip my head back to look at who touched me. Upon doing so, I see Apple Bloom reach an encouraging hoof forward as she says, “Go on Sweetie Belle. We'll be right beside ya. We'll even explain yer situation if y'er too nervous to talk.”

Feeling a little more encouraged, I nod at her then look forward, breathe deep, then knock on the door.

“It's oh-peeeeeeeeen,” my sister calls through the door almost melodically, then says in a more normal tone, “Come in, darling. Don't be shy.”

I take another deep breath, hold it, then release it slowly before I rise from my sitting position. After that, I push open the door. A familiar bell rings above the door when I do so. My friends shortly follow when I cross the threshold.

“Welcome to Carousel Boutique,” says my distracted sister who appears busy working on something. I can't tell what it is but I have all the evidence in the world that it's probably another dress. The reason I can't be too sure is her back is to me and her own white body is blocking my view of anything ahead of her. But, given the fact that I know that is a sewing workstation and the fact that various fabrics are floating nearby her as if waiting their turn to be used, I'm as positive as I can be as to what she's doing without totally knowing for sure.

“Make yourselves at home, darling,” Rarity invites. “I'll be with you in a moment.”

“Thank you Miss R,” Scootaloo responds.

At first my sister is looking down and concentrating hard on her work. But, upon hearing Scootaloo's voice, her head and ears perk up in surprise for some reason. Following that, she turns her head about to look back at Scootaloo with her sapphire eyes. What she sees seems to double her surprise.

“Oh my goodness! So many guests have come to my shop. And what are you doing here, Scootaloo and Apple Bloom? Isn't it a little late for you to come to my shop?”

“Ah, well . . .” Scootaloo begins in very familiar sort of discomfort. Her attitude is downright identical to how she reacted in front of my parents. “. . . the thing is-”

“And who is this?” my sister interrupts as her reading glasses float off her face as she regards me. “A changeling in my shop?” Scanning further, she soon corrects herself. “Actually, no. I sit corrected. There are two changelings in my shop right now.

“Hello, Ocellus. Nice to see you again.” She tilts her head curiously. “And who is your new . . . friend?” Rarity asks with a short pause which, to her credit, is the only sign she gave so far which reveals how nervous she is to meet me. I know for a fact that my sister saw evil changelings on the same day that I had, but I heard she had a few more encounters against them since then.

Maybe we all made more encounters than we realize. When it comes to changelings, we can't be totally certain how many times we met them in disguise. That makes me wonder if at least changelings can tell the difference or not while they are disguised.

“Well, there's a lot to explain,” Ocellus offers sheepishly. “I see you are working on another dress.”

Rarity glances at the dress she was working on as she explains, “Correct. I was working on some touch-ups on an old order I was falling behind on.” She sighs. “I really need to hire a little more help these days. Between my work with my various shops and the work I do at school, I am really getting loaded on some backorders.” She looks up. “Plus I would like to get to this work when inspiration strikes me.”

Next, my sister swivels on her stool until she fully faces us. “I take it this is going to be a long story, isn't it? Why don't you all come in and lock the door. After that, I'll prepare us a spot of tea while you all explain to me why you have come to my shop tonight.”

As she says this, I can't help but notice she keeps a cautious eye on me. To her continuing credit, she isn't panicking or fainting, yet I still note that subtle wary look in her eyes. Seeing an un-reformed changeling before her eyes is quite likely bringing back some bad memories for her.

I realize this is ridiculous, but I had hoped she would immediately recognize me on sight for some odd reason. Maybe if I was wearing something distinctive like Apple Bloom's big red bow behind her head, it might have tipped my sister off enough to set her on the right track. As it stands, however, I must appear to be a moderately dangerous stranger standing in her shop. Probably the only reason she isn't freaking out right now is because she is observing how calmly my friends are reacting around me.

We did as she suggested. As she prepares tea for her guests, we elaborate on why we've come and how this happened. For the most part, it is my friends doing the explanation.

During that time I am totally shocked at how calmly my sister is hoofling the news. I see her floating up tea bags and sniffs them casually before setting them in the tea cups while we tell her what should be very alarming news. The way she is reacting is as if she hears news like this every day. And here I was thinking she'd need her fainting couch in seconds. My sister used to be a very dramatic drama queen when it comes to issues like this. I still haven't figured out where she stores all of her ice creams, too, which she tends to nibble on whenever she feels the need to calm down.

“Would you like one lump or two, darling?” my sister asks Ocellus.

“Lumps?” Ocellus replies with a tilt of her head. “What's that?”

“Sugar cubes, my dear,” Rarity replies. “I'm asking you how many of those you want in your tea.”

“Oh!” Ocellus straightens her head as she blinks. “Um . . . I'll try it without for now. Maybe I'll request one or two of them later.”

“As you wish.” My sister floats a teacup on a white saucer to Ocellus who accepts it with her forward hooves. During that time the changeling sits on the floor.

“Forgive me for saying, but you seem awfully calm right now,” Scootaloo remarks with surprise. “I didn't expect that of you.”

I glance at Scootaloo while thinking about the fact that I'm apparently not the only one to regard my sister with surprise over that fact.

But I look back at my sister when I hear her sigh. Upon doing so, I notice a bit of pain cross her face as she looks down.

“To tell you the truth, it is very sad to hear our parents’ reaction over this news,” Rarity admits with regret.

I widen my eyes as I reiterate questioningly, “Our parents?”

Rarity turns her head to give me a focused and emphatic look as she says, “Yes, my dear. Our parents.”

I brighten almost to an ecstatic level as I ask, “So you believe us?!”

“Quite right. I do,” Rarity confirms.

“Wow, Miss Rarity. Even Ah am sur-prised ya are accepting our story so easily,” Apple Bloom remarks with bright surprise. “'specially after how 'er parents reacted before this.” Following this comment, she blows on her tea which I can tell, by the smell of it, has an apple flavor to it. It's probably more akin to apple cider rather than regular tea.

The pained look returns to Rarity's eyes as she waves us off with a hoof while she says, “I'm sure my parents were just caught off-guard and mortified by the circumstances of this whole fiasco, but as for me . . .” She hesitates for a moment as she gives a simple shrug before going on to say, “. . . I suppose I've been on enough adventures in my time to realize that strange things do indeed happen, especially in our town. Ever since Twilight showed up it's been one fiasco after another.” She closes her eyes and cuts a hoof across the air as she says, “Not that I'm complaining too much. Having Twilight come to us has certainly been worth it.”

Rarity opens her eyes again and focuses on me as she asks, “And you say my friend, Starlight Glimmer, was attempting to reactivate the Friendship Map?”

“Yes,” I report. “To little success so far, but she did say she used the map a few times to successfully locate other ponies. She wanted me to try it to see if I would have any success using it too, but she didn't expect the results we ended up with. Not by a long shot.”

“Starlight seems to be mostly convinced that this is indeed Sweetie Belle,” Ocellus reports as she looks from me to Rarity. “She assigned me to watch her just in case. If this isn't Sweetie Belle then I'd be more prepared than most to react to the danger. If this is Sweetie Belle then I'd be the most prepared to explain to others, and to her, what's going on.”

Rarity floats her cup of tea near her lips. She takes a few seconds to blow on it before speaking again. “I take it this means you'll be excused from my class for the next few days. It wouldn't matter anyway. The Headmare gave you an assignment so you're certainly excused. I would add that your actions have been 'generous' enough to warrant a passing grade from me anyway.” She smiles at Ocellus as she says, “And, speaking from a personal standpoint, let me just take this opportunity to thank you for taking care of and watching after my darling baby sister during her time of need.”

Ocellus blushes shyly but also gratefully as she bashfully waves off with a hoof and says, “Ah . . . it is nothing. I'm just glad I can help.”

“I wouldn't call it nothing,” Rarity says with a slight grin and equally slight narrowing of her eyes. “Seriously, I can't thank you enough for taking your time to care for one of the ponies who matters to me the most in my life. I am ever so grateful for your actions and I am indebted to you for it. You shall accept this. I insist.”

Rarity's look shifts between my club sisters next as she says, “That goes for you two as well. You believed her during her moment of crisis and supported her when she needed you the most. I can't thank you two enough.”

Apple Bloom's chest puffs out in pride as she happily and proudly reports, “Well, Miss Rarity, that's just what we Crusaders do. We help other ponies, so of course we ain't abandoning one of our own during her time of need.”

“Yeah! What she said!” Scootaloo fiercely and proudly agrees.

“Does this mean I can stay with you?” I ask my sister hopefully.

“But of course, darling,” my sister replies as if that should have been obvious. “In fact . . .” She trails off as she looks to her right thoughtfully. A few seconds later she floats her as of yet untouched tea back to a table then rises from her seat. She moves to a work desk and floats out a piece of paper and a quill. She dips the quill in an ink bottle using her magic then proceeds to write something after she floats her tiny reading glasses back to the bridge of her nose. While writing, she says over her shoulder, “I'm writing a note to Miss Cheerilee to explain the fact that my sister will need to be excused from classes for the foreseeable future while we deal with a family emergency.” She pauses a moment as she looks fully over her shoulder at us and me in particular as she adds, “After all, that's not really a lie. We really do have a family emergency to deal with.”

“Boy, I'll say,” Scootaloo strongly agrees.

Rarity returns her attention to the note and resumes writing it.

A short while later, Ocellus gives a fake cough a bit as a signal she wants attention. She does not seem to gain it from Rarity, but the changeling goes on to say, “Um . . . Professor, may I remind you that the Headmare assigned me to watch after your sister? As such, I kindly request permission to stay here in your lovely home for as long as Sweetie Belle remains here, too.”

“Yeah! Us too!” Scootaloo requests brightly as if she suddenly realized it was a great idea to ask as well.

“No!” I object, much to my club sister's surprise, so I clarify, “Not you two. At least, not yet.”

Scootaloo's orange fur seems to bristle a bit as she asks in surprise, “Uh . . . why? Why would you not want the two of us to sleepover? We used to do it all the time. You need us, and it kind of sounds fun anyway. Remember when we used to do that while searching for our cutie marks?”

I shrivel a bit with an apologetic look to her as I say, “Yeah, I know, but trust me . . . I have my reasons.”

Scootaloo squints an eye at me as she repeats, “Why? Are you too ashamed to have us around you now?”

“No!” I strongly object again. I give an uncomfortable look to Ocellus beside me then look back at Scootaloo as I decide to partially explain the truth to her. “It's just that . . . right now I want to be alone with Ocellus. I feel that if I am more alone with her, she might be more forthcoming about some secrets of the changelings that she might otherwise be too uncomfortable and/or forbidden to say in front of outsiders to the pack. Right now I might need to know some of those secrets, though, because it could involve things I could be going through.”

“Or already have,” Apple Bloom realizes with a blink. “Ah remember that hiss ya made in front of your parents. The only other time Ah ev'ah seen something like that was in front of other real changelings during a time when they weren't so nice.”

“Exactly,” I agree as I look at Apple Bloom. “Right now I am going through some disturbing and confusing things and I want Ocellus nearby to explain to me what I might need to know.” I look back at Scootaloo. “But she might not be allowed to do it if you two are around. I want to make sure you two understand that I'm not rejecting you because of you specifically. There are other factors involved.”

Scootaloo closes her eyes for a second, shakes her head, and cuts a hoof across the air as she says, “Say no more.” She opens her eyes and looks back at me. “I understand now.” Then she tilts her head at me. “That said . . . is there anything more you want us to do for you?”

I pause for a moment as I give her request serious consideration, then I brighten as I widen my eyes with a look of realization. After that, I turn to her and say, “There is one thing I'd like you two to do for me. I'd like for you to request Miss Cheerilee to give me some assignments so that I don't fall behind in her class.”

“What?!” Scootaloo asks in confusion while narrowing one eye at me. “How can you think of homework at a time like this? If you ask me, I think you have enough on your plate.” She shrugs. “Besides, having a break from school might be nice.”

“I enjoy our education and I don't want to fall behind,” I tell Scootaloo. “Please, Scootaloo? For me? Having some homework assignments might even take some of the stress off of me. I want to do some things to help me feel more normal.”

“Ah . . . well . . . okay. If you say so,” Scootaloo somewhat accepts.

“Anything else?” Apple Bloom offers.

I again pause for another moment as I consider that request. Soon after I have another thought so I look back at Apple Bloom this time and say, “Yes. There is one other thing I can think of.

“Wait! No. Actually two things,” I correct myself.

Apple Bloom lifts her left hoof while balancing the tea on the other as she asks, “Number one?”

“Number one, I want some regular reports on the progress of our clients,” I request. “I am not in any decent shape to go out in public right now. After all, I want to keep the panic to a minimum, but that said . . . I also want to do whatever I can to help our clients. Let me know how it goes, especially if you two get stuck. If you do, I might come up with some ideas which could help. The three of us always work as a team for these assignments after all. That's how it's always been and that's how it always will be. Even if I look like this,” I gesture to myself, “I still want to help.”

Apple Bloom nods proudly at me in agreement as she says, “Ya got it, Sweetie Belle. Ennah'thang for our dear old friend.”

“And two?” Scootaloo reminds me questioningly.

I glance at Scootaloo for a second after she asks then look forward a bit blankly as I answer, “Number two . . . I want regular reports on the progress Starlight Glimmer is making.” I look back and forth between both of my club sisters. “In particular, I want to know two things. First of all, how close she's coming to finding a cure for my condition.”

Scootaloo nods in agreement as she says, “That goes without saying.”

“And two, I want to know about her progress in finding out what happened to Button Mash. Check the hospital regularly for a change in his condition. Also check with Starlight especially because I think that, whatever happened to him, it's magical in nature so Starlight is more likely to come up with a theory about what happened to him instead of the doctors. The doctors will probably only tell you how he's doing physically.” I shake my head. “But I don't think that's the whole issue. I think something is wrong with him mentally. In other words, the lights are on but no pony is home.”

“Ya think his soul was transferred elsewhere?” Apple Bloom checks.

I look at her and nod before saying, “I do. I also think that, whatever happened to him, it might have something to do with what happened to me.”

“Huh.” Scootaloo gains a thoughtful look. “You did say in Starlight's office that his cutie mark was transferred from his home to somewhere within the Everfree Forrest. Button Mash's body was in his home until it got transferred to the hospital. When we got there, we learned that his cutie mark is now missing and he's drained of color.”

“Right,” I agree. “It's as if his magic is gone. Drained from his body and transferred elsewhere.”

“Like the Everfree Forrest,” Ocellus brings up with a shudder. “I heard awful rumors about that forest from multiple sources. For instance, Sand Bar once told me that the Everfree Forrest once invaded Ponyville with a bunch of black vines. He said it almost killed his younger sister once.” Ocellus looks between us as she says, “Everypony I ever spoke to all agree that the Everfree Forrest is no place for foals. Professor Fluttershy said that the most. I can attest to this with my own personal experience with that forest too.”

“And Button Mash is a foal,” Scootaloo added with worry. “He may not be my special somepony, but I'm worried for him, too.”

“So you see why I'm making this request,” I point out.

“We do, Sweetie Belle,” Apple Bloom agrees. “And don'cha worry. We'll check on them every single day and we'll request for them to report to us if ennah'thang changes. Ya can count on us.”

“Yeah!” Scootaloo fiercely agrees. “Crusaders forever!”

“Crusaders forever!” we agree together before slapping each other with a hive hoof.

Author's Note

After coming off the heels of the last chapter, I wonder how many of you expected these results with Rarity. Please let me know, along with any other thoughts you have about this chapter.

Chapter 15: Enter Twilight

I jolt awake, startled, when I hear a knock on the door. I also notice I awaken to the feeling of cold sweat.

“Sweetie Belle and Ocellus, darlings, come down to the main floor of my shop right away,” I hear my sister urge us through my bedroom door.

“Wha . . . what's going . . . on?” I ask while my mind is still trying to unfog. I notice, as I raise my head from my pillow, that my pillow is now a bit shredded. Something has been tearing holes into it. At first I am mystified until I notice tiny shreds of cloth hanging from my longer and more crooked black horn on my head. Apparently the edges and sharp angles of the horn have been tearing the pillow apart. This is also a sign of frequent tossing about and friction.

“What's going on Professor?” Ocellus, who crawls off the bed along with me, asks through the door with a bit of concern in her voice.

“Princess Twilight is here,” Rarity answers, still speaking through the door. “And she wishes to see you two right away.”

“The princess is here? Are you sure?” I ask my sister.

“Yes. Of course I'm sure. I just saw her a moment ago, darling. She's waiting for you two downstairs.”

“Then we'll be right down there,” I reply to my sister.

“Don't dawdle,” my sister tells us before I hear her trot off.

“Princess Twilight is here,” I muse aloud. “This is getting serious.” I look over at my former bed companion for a moment then sigh before crawling off the bed. “Come on. We had best get moving.”

“Wait! Before we go, I want to ask you something,” Ocellus requests.

“Uh . . . sure,” I reply with a bit of a mystified tone. “What's sup?”

I see Ocellus bite her lower lip in a gesture of slight discomfort for a moment before she shakes her head, looks right at me, and asks, “Last night you were tossing and turning a lot. You were also moaning a lot, too. You sounded really afraid. Is that common for you?”

I did?

I think back. Upon doing so, I realize I don't recall what dreams I had last night, but this does sound like the reaction I have with many of my dreams lately. If anything, they seem to be getting worse, more or less.

“I didn't used to,” I eventually answer her. “But lately . . . I have been having lots of bad dreams, but I didn't think much of it.”

I see Ocellus widen her eyes slightly as she asks me, “When did they start? These bad dreams, I mean?”

“I, uh . . . I'm not sure,” I answer lamely as I rub the side of my head with a hoof. “Nearly a year, I think.” I focus on Ocellus as I add, “I do know it was sometime after Princess Twilight's coronation.”

I see Ocellus grow deeply thoughtful for a moment. As this continues, I start to grow very curious if she's figured something important out so I ask her, “Why? Why do you ask? Have you figured something out?”

“I'm not sure yet,” she answers. “It's just a hunch, but I get the feeling this is important.”

“Huh.” I blink at her. Moments later I realize something. It prompts me to ask her, “That reminds me. I have another question about changelings.”

“Shoot,” Ocellus invites as she looks back at me.

I tilt my head at her a bit as I ask her, “Do changelings dream normally? Is that something your species commonly do too?”

“Oh yes,” she replies a bit brightly. “There are a few times I even received special dreams. For example, I remember this one time I shared a dream with my friends. At first we wondered why until we encountered the spirit of the Tree of Harmony. It said it needed our help, so we visited it a short while later. Oh, and that was after King Sombra destroyed it.”

“You actually saw the spirit of the Tree of Harmony?!” I ask in awe. “What was it like?”

“Well, uh . . . it kind of looked like Twilight except it was a bit transparent and she sparkled a lot. Also, her voice was a bit different. It echoed somewhat, and I think I vaguely heard other voices speaking in complete unison with her. She was kind of melodic when she spoke. Her voice swam through the air.”

“Wow!” I marvel with wide eyes. “That's so cool!”

I see Ocellus smile fondly as she replies, “Yeah. It was.”

We share a brief moment of silence before the other changeling shakes her head and says, “Come on. We best get moving. We shouldn't keep the princess waiting.”

“Right,” I agree.

After I come downstairs, along with Ocellus, I briefly lose myself to my excitement when I see Princess Twilight. It is enough to cause me to exclaim, “Princess Twilight!” When I said that, I notice my voice very briefly squeaked for just a moment. It was so brief it only occurred for exactly one syllable of that sentence, but during that moment, it actually sounded like my own real voice.

Lost in the excitement, I attempt to race down the rest of the stairs.

Bad idea! I end up tripping over my own hooves because of my sudden rapid pace combined with the fact that I'm still unfamiliar with this new body’s equilibrium, the width of my hooves, and my center of gravity.

Fortunately for me, Princess Twilight's reflexes are fairly acute. Before my head trips down into the stairs, I get suspended in mid-air as my body is enveloped by a purple aura. As usual, my body starts stinging and tickling whenever I'm picked up using that method which is why unicorns rarely do that to themselves aside from the fact they typically don't have the magical strength to do so. Fortunately again, it does not last long. Twilight quickly but also gently sets me down at the base of the stairs.

“Careful Sweetie Belle,” Twilight cautions me. “You almost tripped and fell. I don't want you to get hurt.”

“And, aside from that, a proper lady does not rush down the stairs like a bumbling oaf,” Rarity scolds me with indignity. “She must be patient and dainty. To do otherwise would be improper and she could ruin her dress in her haste.”

“You . . . you called me Sweetie Belle!” I exclaim in a deeply touched tone as my eyes shine at Twilight. “You said my name! You said my name!”

“Well of course, Sweetie Belle!” Twilight tells me with her bright, trademark friendly smile that most definitely reaches her eyes. “What else would I call you?”

“Well, you . . . I don't exactly look like myself these days,” I mumble with regret in my still disgustingly manly voice.

“Regardless how you look, you are still Sweetie Belle on the inside,” Twilight replies. “And that is the only part that matters to me. As for the rest of you,” she waves across me with a wing before refolding it behind her back, “that's what I'm here to address. When I heard the news from Starlight after I received her letter, I realized one of my dear friends is in trouble so I had to rush in and help her. Her meaning you, my dear.”

“Is Spike here too?” I check with rising excitement, but I grow a bit despondent when I see Twilight shake her head.

“No,” Twilight replies. “I've assigned him to look after some of my duties while I'm away. I've empowered him to be able to grant some decisions and others he'll just write down so I can review them later.”

“Well . . . it's still nice to see you again!” I emotionally bounce back brightly. “I missed you so, so much!”

Twilight smiles again as she replies very brightly, “Why thank you, Sweetie Belle! It's good to see you too.” Her bright expression sinks to a bit of an awkward look at me up and down as she adds, “Sort of.”

Rarity looks at her purple alicorn friend as she asks, “Twilight, darling, whatever you have planned for my baby sister today, does it involve me? I do have classes today but this is quite a bit more important to me. If you need me for anything . . .” She trails off as she leaves that thought lingering.

“Nah. That's okay, Rarity. I can take it from here,” Twilight tells her white friend.

“Oh!” Rarity exclaims as she realizes something, then refocuses on Twilight as she says, “I just remembered, I haven't had a chance to prepare breakfast for any of us yet.” She closes her eyes as she lifts a hoof before lecturing, “A proper lady does not neglect one's diet for she needs to maintain her complexion.”

“I'll take care of that for them later as well,” Twilight promises as she continues to regard her friend. “But there is something else urgent I want to take care of first. Don't worry, Rarity. I'll make sure to take good care of your baby sister. I promise.” Twilight lifts a hoof to her chest then proceeds to cross it as she adds, “Cross my heart, and hope to fly-”

“Yes, yes, yes,” Rarity dismisses with an impatient wave of a hoof to her purple friend. “All of that silly nonsense. I trust you, Twilight. No need to get theatrical about it so early in the morning.”

“Theatrical?” Twilight asks while she looks taken aback. “You're one to talk, Rarity. Usually you're the one with enough drama on her hooves to require a fainting couch.”

Rarity shrugs with a look of haughty dignity as she fluffs her mane while saying, “What can I say? I matured.”

“Um, Princess,” I mention nervously. “Have you heard what happened to Button Mash?”

First Twilight's eyes look at me followed by her face before she replies, “Yes, I have, and that is why I consider this issue very urgent and it's also why I need you.”

“What for?” I ask with a confused blink. “What can I do?”

“I need you to help me use the magic Friendship Map to locate Button Mash again,” Twilight answers.

Rarity gasps, then asks, “Are you sure it's safe? Using that map is how she got into this mess in the first place. Also, why not ask his mother to help you? She cares for him too.

“Oh, and one more thing. Starlight's horn still hasn't recovered. She can't cast the spell.”

Twilight unfurls her right wing then uses it to lift a single feather as she says, “First of all, you're absolutely right about Starlight which is why I will be casting the spell this morning.” She lifts another feather from her wing. “Secondly, I've already reviewed that spell and have determined it to be safe. I've even tested it with a few castings myself before now.” She lifts another feather. “Thirdly, while Button's mother would suffice for this spell, she is busy, at her own insistence, to remain in the hospital and look after her son.”

Twilight refolds her wings behind her back as she says, “Besides, involving her would mean explaining to her an incomplete story of what's going on around here. Until we have a better understanding of what is going on, I don't want to stress her out any further.

“Also,” Twilight closes her eyes, turns her head to her side, and lifts the same wing but this time using it to make a halting gesture. “before you point this out, let me just say that we're not one-hundred percent sure of Button's current whereabouts.”

Twilight refolds her wings, opens her eyes, and looks back at Rarity.

“He seems to be in the hospital but something is wrong with him there, and Starlight told me how his cutie mark got moved on the map. It moved somewhere in the Everfree Forrest. We need to ascertain if we'll get the same results if we cast that spell again while most of the same circumstances are in place.” She shrugs. “I also can't dismiss the fact that casting this spell again might undo what happened before. Even if we never get an explanation on how this happened in the first place, I still won't complain if repeating this spell fixes all of these problems somehow. Furthermore, one can't ignore the fact that Button's cutie mark has indeed disappeared from his flank. Starlight does have some talent relocating cutie marks, as I'm sure you recall, but she assured me she cast no such thing. I believe her, and besides, I read the spell she cast. I also cast it myself. What has happened really shouldn't have happened. This is a mystery we urgently need to get to the bottom of both for Sweetie Belle's sake as well as Button Mash.”

“And Button Mash might be in greater danger,” I say with worry. “My circumstances might be very unsettling but at least I'm suffering it in the relative safety of this town.” I shake my head. “Button Mash might not be so lucky. He's a foal who might have been lost in the Everfree Forrest for over a day now.”

“I cannot ignore that grim possibility,” Twilight promises firmly. “So we have to act right away.

“Sweetie Belle, I'll teleport you straight to Starlight's Castle myself. There is no need to march you through Ponyville in broad daylight while you continue to look like that. Hopefully we'll find a solution to all of this mess today.”

“And me?” Ocellus inquires. “Starlight put me in charge of looking after her. I don't wish to let her down.”

Twilight nods at Ocellus as she says, “You too, Ocellus. I'll teleport you to the castle as well. After all, you may yet have some valuable insight into what's going on. One way or another, it seems changeling mischief is ahoof. If that's the case then I'd prefer to have a changeling of my own by my side to make sure we're properly informed what's what.”

“I'll do my best for you, Princess!” Ocellus promises as she straightens her back and wears a firm, dutiful expression on her bug-like face.

A fond and confident look sinks into Twilight's face as she says, “I know you will, Ocellus. The Tree of Harmony chose you, and your friends, to champion its cause, just like it once did for my friends so I trust you.” After she says that, her expression cracks with a bit of worry as she adds, “That said, you are very young and a foreign student. I don't want to see you harmed nor do anything to provoke a diplomatic incident. As such, I invite you to accompony me on the condition that you immediately obey any request I give. If I tell you to leave, for example, you do it right away with no hesitation because, chances are, I'm only requesting it with your safety in mind.”

Ocellus nods as she says, “Understood.

“Um,” now it looks like the changeling is about to change the subject, but she looks a bit nervous and/or shy.

“Go on,” Twilight invites with a kindly voice.

Feeling encouraged, Ocellus presses forward by asking, “Speaking of international incidents, have you told Thorax of these recent developments? Sweetie Belle has been transformed into a changeling. Maybe that's temporary but we still don't know why this is happening. We also can't dismiss the possibility that another changeling might be involved somehow. If so, there is a distinct possibility that it could still be an evil changeling. I guarantee you that Thorax would take that news very seriously.”

Twilight turns her head a bit to the side as she now wears a look of uncertainty. After a moment she replies, “I am seriously considering informing him but I'm not sure when I should do it.” She focuses back on Ocellus. “One way or another I do intend to eventually include him in the loop but, for now, I'm also tempted to delay it until I have better answers for him. After all, I don't want to start a panic unnecessarily. There is also the fact that, if an evil changeling is involved, there's a chance we risk tipping him or her off if I inform Thorax. Perhaps he has a spy lurking among his pack. Changelings have been known to be quite good at that. Right now it seems prudent to me to limit the spread of information until we have something more concrete to report.”

Ocellus looks a bit down, puts a hoof to her bottom chin, squints her eyes, and thinks about what was just said before she nods to herself and looks back at Twilight with a look of agreement. Then she says, “Okay. That sounds prudent for the moment but that also means my role in this affair is all the more important. I highly recommend you keep me around as much as possible to at least bear witness to these events because I'm a source of information King Thorax will trust. I can convince him that you had a good reason for delaying the spread of this information to him. But, if I'm also there every step of the way during this investigation, he'll eventually know you weren't trying to hide anything from us in the long run.”

Twilight strongly nods in agreement as she says, “That sounds like an excellent plan as long as you follow my orders precisely and immediately, for I also don't want to give King Thorax any impression that I endangered one of his younger pack members unnecessarily. He trusts me too and I have no intention to let him down.”

Now it's Ocellus's turn to nod, then she says, “Agreed.”

“Then let's delay no further,” Twilight decides. “Sweetie Belle and Ocellus, gather around me. I'll teleport us to Starlight's Castle right away.”

Author's Note

So the story continues to build more momentum. What will happen now that a new ally has joined the fray? Find out next time on the same Bat time and same Bat channel.

Chapter 16: Cutie Map Reveals

I wonder if I'll ever get used to the sensation of teleporting. It vaguely reminds me of a magician's trick, kind of like the show Trixie performs, because there is an act of concealment during the process. In this case, it is a flash of purple followed by a shower of sparkles. After that, I gain this feeling akin to needing my eyes to adjust to the daylight after emerging from a darker interior. In addition to that, there is this sense of dizziness as if gravity is somehow different between point A and point B.

I know, in my head, that there shouldn't be that much of a difference. After all, we only teleported within Ponyville. I could have trotted to this destination in less than half an hour even if the streets were busy. But, today, I know that's not the point. I wasn't teleported here because I'm an invalid. I was teleported here so that there would be fewer social complications.

When my sense of dizziness later adjusts, I notice I am now in the throne room of Starlight's Castle. I also notice Starlight and Sunburst are already here.

Also, to my immediate right, I notice Ocellus blink several times then shake her head. Apparently I'm not the only one to gain a sense of disorientation due to the sudden shift in the environment.

“Welcome. Glad you're all here,” Starlight cheers to us.

When Starlight said that, I notice her horn is still wrapped in magic gauze. My caring concern for her compels me to ask her, “How's your horn, Starlight? Are you feeling any better?” I ask with hope mixed with worry in my voice.

In response, Starlight smiles at me in appreciation as she answers, “Yes, Sweetie Belle. I am feeling better today. Prior to this, last night, I sometimes suffered from splitting migraines, especially if I move my head too much. It agitated the small fracture in my horn which caused my magic to rise in flux for a few seconds. But I'm better now, fortunately,” she says with a breath of relief.

“Sunburst? You're here too?” Ocellus asks him with a blink of surprise. “If the Headmare and vice Headstallion are both here, who is running the school?”

“Hopefully this won't take long,” Sunburst replies as he floats his glasses further up from ever sliding down his muzzle. “If it does, I may reconvene at a later time, but for now, this situation is considerably more urgent. I'm here to double-check things and make sure there are no more mishaps this time. Or, if there are anyway, my presence here might serve to at least identify it. We do need more information.”

Sunburst shifts his eyes to look at me. He stares at me for a moment, then says, “My, my . . . is that really you, Sweetie Belle?”

I cringe shyly as I reply, “Yes. It's me. I know I don't look like myself lately.”

“Well, hopefully, we're here to fix that and get some answers,” Sunburst says back to me before looking at Twilight then nodding. “We're all here, Your Majesty. Let's get started.”

I sigh, then I ask Starlight, “I take it you want me to repeat what I've done before? You want me to concentrate on Button Mash at a certain time? If so, please tip me off when I should do it.”

Starlight shakes her head slightly as she says back, “I won't be casting the spell this time due to my condition. Twilight is, so she'll be the one to tell you when to concentrate on Button Mash.

“However,” Starlight flashes the other darker purple mare a knowing look, “we're going to focus on another target the first time.” She looks back at me. “We want to reveal that there is absolutely nothing wrong with the spell or the table first. If this works and there are no mishaps, then we'll move on with your involvement.”

“Who is the first target?” I ask as I shift my look from Starlight to Twilight.

“Instead of telling you, I'll show you,” Twilight replies. “Now, everypony, hold still. Let me concentrate.”

What transpires next is mostly familiar to me. I see Twilight's horn glow. Next, the table glows and ignites an illusionary image of Equestria. After that, I see a bright ball of energy materialize about fifteen feet in the air then lower down towards the map. The further it descends, the more distinct the image gets. Eventually I notice, with a gasp of surprise, that they are searching for my cutie mark. More importantly, that image spirals around the transparent, miniaturized image of this Castle. Upon closer inspection, it even seems to revolve around this room in particular.

“Whoa, Sweetie Belle! Look at your flank!” Ocellus exclaims in surprise.

Upon that request, I do so, then gasp again when I sort of see my cutie mark there. It flashes and pulses in a way I have only experienced twice before. Once when I was called on a friendship mission along with my club Crusaders, and the second time on that same mission when we completed our task.

Only after seeing it do I also notice a ticklish, magical pulse on each side of my flank.

The one thing that's odd about this, however, is I can only see my cutie mark in mid flash. Whenever that pulsing flash fades, so does my cutie mark. It fades back to pure black only to come back again in another flashing glow. It's more like a phantom cutie mark now.

“Really?” Sunburst asks in surprise before trotting around the table in order to get a closer look at my flank. He uses his magic to lift his glasses towards my pulsing cutie mark. He zooms his glasses in and out towards the mark as if to view it from different perspectives, then he says, “How fascinating! This never happened before when we cast this spell.”

“It's as if the Cutie Map is trying to make it clear, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that this changeling is indeed Sweetie Belle in disguise,” Starlight figures aloud. “Either that, or it's trying to indicate there is a friendship problem and that this filly is the one to solve it. That and the fact that her target is also standing in this room.

“Well, I know one friendship problem we had that is now solved.” Starlight looks straight at me and says to me, “I'm sorry, Sweetie Belle, for doubting you at all. I did mostly believe you but I hope you understand why I had to be absolutely sure.”

I smile sheepishly at her as I tell her, “No. You're fine. I understand why you did it. I probably would have done the same thing in your place. I'm just glad you fully believe me now. I’m also relieved to learn this answer myself. After the way my parents yelled at me yesterday, part of me even started to doubt myself.”

“Well, if you are indeed a fake, then you're so good at your job that even the Friendship Map can't tell you apart from the real Sweetie Belle,” Sunburst points out. “And it also doesn't show your position as anywhere else as if to further emphasize that you are the one and only Sweetie Belle. Lacking evidence to the contrary, I think we can safely conclude that you are indeed her.”

I see Starlight's ears droop when she says, “Speaking of your parents, I heard about the fiasco you suffered from yesterday. Both Rarity and her parents stopped by and both complained to me about what happened. In the process, they also ran into each other. It took me a while to calm them down and assure them I'm doing everything I can to solve this problem. I even told them that I notified Twilight about this and expected to see her the following day, and she did indeed show up,” she says with a nod to indicate Twilight. “As an experienced school counselor, I really should have anticipated this problem instead of leaving it to you.” Starlight sighs sadly. “I have to apologize to you again for that really dumb oversight on my part. At the time I was more focused on solving this problem and I suppose I also assumed that, if you really were Sweetie Belle, that their parental instincts would kick in and they'd simply know the truth. However, by leaving that to chance, I left an adult changeling with a mind of a foal to deal with a very serious and complex adult issue. I'm really kicking myself for not hoofling this with far greater care. That was careless of me.” She looks cornerwise up. “I suppose I should chalk my careless mistake up to stress.”

“No pony is perfect,” Twilight says. “Even I made plenty of mistakes in my time. You know that well, Starlight.”

“Yeah,” Starlight agrees as she looks back at her old mentor with a fond grin. “I do.” Then she looks at me seriously. “Armed with this new insight from the Cutie Map, we should present this evidence to your parents soon except, this time, I won't make the same mistake. I'm going with you when you see your parents next. Either that, or I'll call them to my office and we'll sort out this whole mess there. When I convince them that you are, indeed, their true daughter, I'm virtually certain they'll be crushed with regret for disbelieving and even yelling at you. I'll definitely need to set aside some time to help them work out their grief. More than likely they'll need more than one session.”

“Shouldn't Trixie hoofle that?” Ocellus wonders aloud. “That is her job here at this school.”

Starlight looks down with regret as she explains, “Yes, but this whole mess is my fault. I have to take responsibility for it before I can gather any peace of mind for this myself.” She looks at Ocellus. “I need this almost as much as they do.” She waves a hoof. “I might pass on to Trixie some of their future counseling sessions, if any, but I want to be the one to get the ball rolling at least. I owe them that much.”

“Thank you, Starlight,” I express to her gratefully. “I definitely could use your help. Considering the way I look and the way they acted, I struggled, and often failed, to give them eye contact.”

Starlight nods in agreement as she says, “I know, and don't you worry. I won't abandon you to that harsh duty next time. I'll help you through this. I promise.”

“Armed with this new evidence, we have enough to make a more convincing case next time,” Sunburst adds. “That will likely help.”

“My parents are not mages like you two are,” I point out. “They'll be able to understand this whole magic map business only to a point. That said, I'm confident that they trust you two. If you approach them with firm conviction about your case, I'm sure they'll believe you next time.”

Starlight tilts her head at me as she asks me, “I'm sure your parents were aware of the last time you were called on a friendship mission, right?”

“Yes,” I answer simply at first then elaborate second. “They were fine with it after they learned that Twilight would supervise us during the trip.” I grin shyly. “I'm sure they were hoping I'd use that opportunity to get closer to an equestrian princess, but they still act more casually about it than most would. Familiarity tends to breed that reaction even among otherwise very famous celebrities.

“When I got back home after I finished that mission last time, I told them all about the adventure I had on that trip. I was especially detailed about Harmony Heights at Mount Aris because I was hoping that that info would inspire them to take a vacation to that place. Hopefully with me in tow because I was really anxious to get back there at the time.”

Starlight's expression towards me turns to a look of deep fondness and there is a kind of squint in her eyes as if she is thinking what I said is really adorable.

“Well,” Sunburst begins as he floats his glasses back up his muzzle, “I think it's time we move on to other business. Now that we have the mystery about Sweetie's identity mostly solved, let's find out what happened to Button Mash.”

That comment seems to snap all the other mares in the room back into serious focus.

“Right. I'll cast the spell again,” Twilight decides aloud. “And, while I do deeply care for Button Mash, my affection probably isn't as deep as his special somepony so I'll leave the task of focusing on him to you,” Twilight tells me.

“Right,” I agree with a serious nod.

“This is where things went awry last time,” Starlight warns the group. “Everypony, keep an especially sharp eye out for mishaps this time. If it happens, maybe we can work to prevent it or at least identify why it is happening. Hopefully those answers will lead to solving the problem later.”

“At this point, I'm almost hoping a mishap will occur,” Sunburst says as I see his horn ignite a sunny yellow color, but I can't identify what he cast. “Because I need that information to solve this problem later on. It might reveal something else important as well, like a potentially evil changeling lurking about.”

“Let's do this,” Twilight announces as she casts the spell. Her horn glows, then the map glows, then she announces, “Okay, Sweetie Belle. I'm ready. Concentrate on Button Mash as hard as you can.”

I close my eyes and do so. I think about his goofy expressions and offbeat personality. I think about his spinning propeller hat and his love for video games. I even think about his whining personality which I usually find a turn-off about him but, today, I consider it all part of the package that is him so it feels like part of his charm now. I pour everything I know and feel about him just to make it absolutely clear to the map that I am referring to one very specific colt and it can't be any other.

“It's worked. Good job, Sweetie Belle,” Starlight congratulates. “You can open your eyes . . . now?”

Upon hearing that pause and questioning inflection to her last sentence, I immediately grow concerned. I pop my eyes open and attempt to locate his cutie mark on the map. Indeed I see it. I also see it exactly where I expected it to be, the Everfree Forest. When I notice that, I look to the other side of the map and privately wonder what Starlight finds so confusing.

“Is something the matter, Starlight?” Starlight's old teacher asks the lighter purple mare in concern.

“Uh, yes,” Starlight answers. “Button's cutie mark has moved on this map since last we checked.”

I am taken aback as I look at the map as I ask, “Really? I can't tell. He's still in the Everfree Forest.”

Starlight squints one eye at the map as she says, “Yes, he is, but his location within the forest has moved.”

“Are you sure, Starlight?” Twilight checks with her old student.

“Yes, Twilight. I'm sure. His original location was somewhere south of this new position and . . . east, I think?” Starlight shakes her head. “I didn't get a really good look at his former position because of everything else I was going through at the time. The shock of the change, the unexpected results, the damage within my horn. But, despite it all, I am sure that his new location is different than before.”

“Poor little guy,” Sunburst says sadly. “I think he's lost in that forest and he's desperately trying to find his way back. Fortunately for him, he is heading generally in the right direction. In two days to a week, he'll make it to the outer border of Ponyville at this rate.”

“I'm not waiting that long!” Twilight decides firmly as she narrows her eyes at the map and Button Mash's cutie mark in particular which is hovering over the southern end of the Everfree Forest. “I'm going to teleport to him in order to retrieve him now that I have a general idea where he's at.” She looks across us above the map. “Who's with me?”

“I'll go,” Starlight volunteers immediately. “As I said before, this is my mess and I need to do something to help clean it up or else I won't sleep peacefully tonight . . . again.”

“Maybe I should go too?” Sunburst checks.

Starlight looks at him and shakes her head as she says, “No. Not this time. You were here to supervise the casting of this spell because you had the best chance to spot any mishaps. None seems obvious anymore so we should consider the next step in your priority list. Stay here and watch after the school for me while I help Twilight locate Button Mash. This is now a rescue operation.”

“I assume everypony here is aware that the Cutie Map did not indicate the hospital with Button Mash's cutie mark, right?” Ocellus checks with the group around her. “His body is there but this map still doesn't care. Instead, it's insisting he's in the Everfree Forest.” She looks at Twilight. “And, since there’s still is a chance of changeling mischief involved, I'd like to volunteer to accompany you, too.”

“Me too,” I quickly chime in. “Please let me come! I want to help to find him.”

“I would advise that as well,” Starlight agrees, albeit a little reluctantly. “Normally I would not advise a foal to accompony us somewhere that might be dangerous but I also can't help but believe Sweetie Belle's fate is intrinsically tied to Button Mash's right now. She's here but changed into a changeling. He's in the Everfree Forest instead of his body in the hospital. Does this mean he's been changed into a changeling too? And what if there's another connection between these two? Is there a third-party changeling working in the shadows between all of this?

“In order to prepare for the answer, I think we need both Sweetie Belle and Ocellus just in case.”

“I . . . guess I agree,” Twilight agrees somewhat uncomfortably. “Alright, but you two stay close to either me or Starlight. I don't want either of you galloping off, especially not in an environment like the Everfree Forest. Whether or not another changeling is involved, other dangerous things do indeed lurk in that forest. I can attest to this from my own personal experience.”

“You got it,” I agree.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Ocellus also agrees but with a formal bow.

“Then gather around me. I'll take us as close as I can to Button Mash in the Everfree Forest.”

I keep forgetting how scary the Everfree Forest can be, even in the daylight. I definitely underestimated it once when my friends and I ventured into the forest at night in search of Fluttershy's chicken, Elizabeak. In a way, we were also searching for our cutie marks at the time in the hopes that locating Fluttershy's lost chicken would also help us to find our destiny somehow. Indeed we did locate the wayward chicken, but we also found a dangerous cockatrice.

I never forgot that experience ever since that day. It's why I've been reluctant to return to this forest ever since then. It's also why I'm surprised that Apple Bloom has done so several times before and since that incident. Her primary destination keeps ending up at Zecora's place, but still . . . after what I suffered in this forest back then, I'm genuinely impressed with Apple Bloom's courage.

Ironically, it's thoughts like that that drove me towards this forest this time largely due to my grave concern for Button Mash. It was just one night that traumatized me for life about this forest. And, while I like to pretend Button is a courageous knight in shining armor, which is a fantasy I know he likes to share in, I also know he's anything but. In fact, he's quite the crybaby instead. Spending an entire night and day all alone in this forest crushes my poor little heart with worry for him. There is simply no way I'm going to be able to sleep again tonight while knowing a foal like Button has to spend any more time in this awful place.

Where we are now feels even scarier than the area we Crusaders tread years ago. My old memories say that we Crusaders ventured into a trail of some kind within the forest, but here . . . there is no sign of any civilization at all and it seems there never was. As such, this area of the forest feels especially primal. Magic is prevalent all over Equestria but it feels especially intense here. The trees are so clustered here that light barely has any room to reach the forest floor. At the forest floor, I have to carefully step around many kinds of plants and roots which are twisted and gnarled even above the earth. Scary-looking insects also crawl in the area.

If the sight of this forest during the daylight makes me this nervous, it must be ten times worse for Button Mash.

We split up only a short distance as we call for Button Mash. Because of that call, I have a clear idea of where the others are in this forest. Button should hear it and respond too if he's alive and conscious, but this also means any threats in this area will hear us too.

As we continue, I feel like an unwelcome intruder in this forest. Like the forest is silently glaring at us for disturbing the peace and the thick, eerie silence aside from normal forest noises like the whistle of the wind and creepy creaks of the forest branches.

“EVERYPONY, I FOUND SOMEONE!” Ocellus calls out to us. “I THINK I FOUND HIM.”

“Hold on, Ocellus. We'll be right there,” Starlight calls out.

Sure enough, we gather towards Ocellus's position. When Twilight gets close, the light she is casting from her horn illuminates the area around Ocellus. Because of that, we encounter the next milestone of our great mystery.

“Careful, everyone,” Ocellus cautions. “That's changeling slime.”

“It is?” I ask before I get a good look at this situation. When I fully arrive, I am taken aback by tiny chunks of hard but otherwise glistening green slime in the area. Following the clues, we are eventually led to another pony resting unconscious among the thickest part of the green muck as if barely emerging from it. What we see within takes us further back, for the pony within the slime is none other than . . . me?

Yeah. It is a white filly unicorn resting inside. A pony whose mane and tail is a mixture of deep purple and lighter lilac, but it is matted and glistening with changeling green slime.

“Sweetie Belle?!” Ocellus gasps in surprise. “Well this is unexpected.”

“Perhaps for you,” announces Starlight. “As for me, I'm beginning to suspect some of what's going on here.”

I hear a flap of the bird nearby. Tracing the sound to its source, I grow startled to realize that a raven has landed nearby. A raven that is now staring straight down at us and me in particular. I'm not sure why, but I sense a look of hungry evil in his eyes.

I cringe fearfully since this is bringing back vivid memories of some awful nightmares.

“Sweetie Belle, what's wrong?” Starlight asks me sharply as if I might have a vital clue to this mystery.

“Let's just go!” I strongly urge. “I don't like it here. This forest has eyes. Evil, prying eyes.”

“Why do you say that?” Starlight asks me but she is looking at the raven with a suspicious eye. Despite that expression, she says, “It's just a bird.”

“Or it's a changeling,” Ocellus cautions. “It's difficult to tell when we are not in our true forms. Even Queen Chrysalis couldn't easily tell but she did have some magic to force us back into our true forms.”

“Even if you're wrong about that particular bird, I can't dismiss the possibility that a changeling is lurking in the area, potentially disguised as anything,” Twilight remarks nervously. “I think Sweetie is right. We need to go. After all, we got what we came for. Time to escape with our prize before something else happens.” She narrows her eyes in determination. “But hear this, changeling, if indeed you are watching. You've ponynapped at least one of my citizens and you will answer for it. I'll hear your plea and promise you a fair trial. If you give yourself up, along with any other of my captured citizens, then I promise leniency.”

The only response we get is a “caw” from the creepy black raven. As it does so, I feel his evil intention crawling on my hide like a swarm of bugs.

Then, a moment later, he flies away. He caws several more times as he retreats in the distance.

I shudder as I feel faint. While this is happening, the sound of the awful whistle rings in my head. The haunting whistle that always rings in the fog, the dark, or someplace unseen.

“Please, Twilight! Let's just go!” I whine in terror.

Twilight looks at me in sympathy due to my attitude. A similar look is on Starlight's face except she is looking more contemplative.

Ocellus is the only one not looking at me. Instead, she is carefully examining our environment. She, too, appears very nervous.

“I agree with Sweetie Belle,” Ocellus nervously concurs. “We are being watched, and it isn't from someone good.” She whips her head to look at us in deep alarm. “We have to get out of here now!”

“Then gather around me,” Twilight instructs. “I'm taking us out of here.”

We cooperate. What's more, she floats my unconscious doppelganger close to her. Right after that, she teleports us out of there.

Author's Note

More answers. More questions. The mystery continues.

Any theories on what's going to happen next?

Chapter 17: The Plot Thickens

I was in the throne room only briefly before Twilight teleports both me and Ocellus elsewhere. Where we appear next is a fairly small room with a single bed, study desk, and bookshelf with a moderate amount of books strewn across three out of seven of those shelves. Exotic decor is hung on the walls which looks like various bug parts, hanging vines, and several kinds of crystal gems on miniature shelves. I also see a tall oval mirror on the door which is surrounded by an iron frame that is shaped into a vine and leaf-like pattern. The room also has a peculiar scent that I cannot identify yet.

“You should stay here for the moment while I take care of the . . . other you,” Twilight tells me moments after arrival.

“What about Button Mash? He's still lost in the forest,” I remind in concern.

Twilight shakes her head as she says, “We need to take care of the other you first and find out what's going on. Besides, I get the feeling there is more going on here than meets the eye.” Twilight looks out a window in this room with a spooked expression. “That forest did have eyes and they were looking right at us menacingly.” She looks back at me. “Nothing is confirmed, but I think this situation warrants some extra caution. I don't want to invite a foal and a young changeling into that forest again if the threat level there is higher than usual. We may be working against an intelligent force here and that's so much worse than a random hostile encounter. Organized plans may be set in motion against us. I don't like how your apparent body was abandoned like that amidst changeling goo. It's as if we were meant to find it but that was a last-minute change from this dastardly villain.”

“But Button . . .” I moan sadly as tears start to rise in my eyes. I can't believe what I'm hearing. I never thought we'd abandon a foal like that.

“Like I said, I think a little investigation is in order,” Twilight tells me. “On that note, did you happen to see the cutie mark she was wearing?”

As I blink in surprise, my tears dry up a bit. I then say, “No. What's that got to do with anything?”

Twilight leans her head down as she tells me more emphatically, “That body we found did not have your cutie mark on her flank. Instead, she had Button Mash's.”

I gasp in shock.

“He does have a D-pad cutie mark, doesn't he? We saw it on the Cutie Map before we moved to investigate that forest,” Twilight informs.

“A copy of Sweetie Belle which has Button's cutie mark?” asks the perplexed changeling beside me. “What is going on here?”

Twilight lifts her head straight as she says, “As I said, we're going to find that out.

“In the meantime, the two of you stay here. I mean it,” Twilight instructs.

“But where is . . .” I begin but trail off when I see Twilight teleport away. I pass the same questioning look I had in Twilight's former direction and redirect it to Ocellus beside me.

“We're in my room,” Ocellus explains. “At least the dorm room I'm staying in while I remain here in Ponyville.”

“Oh! Neat!” I exclaim in delight as I take another sweeping look across the room. “So this is your room.”

“Yes,” Ocellus agrees simply and a little shyly.

“What is all this stuff on the walls?” I ask her.

“What do you mean?” she reflects.

“All of this,” I answer. “The bug parts and vines and crystals.”

“Oh. That's just mementos from my homeland,” she answers.

I sigh as I realize I can't take my mind off the mystery we just encountered in the Everfree Forest. I'm still very worried about Button Mash but I'm equally confused. We looked for him in that forest and, instead of finding him, we find a copy of myself except she has Button's cutie mark? What's going on here? Is it perhaps a false clue meant to lead us off the trail? Maybe the evil changeling found the perfect bait to lead even the Cutie Map off Button's true trail.

“I can't stand this! I need to see her!” I decide with irritation in my voice.

“Who?” Ocellus asks.

“The other me,” I answer her. “They are going to take her to the hospital. That might be my true body there but something is wrong with it. I have to find out what's going on.”

“But Twilight told us to stay put,” Ocellus complains with a worried cringe. “Besides, you'd attract too much attention wandering around Ponyville in a form like that. Especially in broad daylight.”

“There is an easy fix for that,” I reply with a cunning grin. “Go to my sister's shop and borrow a long cloak. The color does not matter too much. Just make sure it's something that does not draw too much attention.”

“Borrow?” Ocellus reflects with a squint of suspicion at me.

“Yeah. I mean it,” I reply sincerely. “I'm going to return it. I just need it for the time being.”

“But Twilight told us to stay put,” Ocellus reminds. “I could get into trouble, too, if I'm seen wandering about town.”

“Ocellus,” I say as I apply a hoof to her shoulder, “you're a changeling. You can disguise your form if you want to hide in public. You can do that better than most.”

Ocellus gives me a frown and an uncomfortable squint of her face at me. She looks like she was aware of that point but had hoped I wouldn't bring it up. Shortly later she says, “This still isn't a good idea.”

“Please, Ocellus? For me?” I beg her. “I have to know what's going on with that other me. I also want to find out what happened to Button Mash. Admit it, you're curious too. Just imagine how I feel right now.”

“Okay, okay,” she agrees irritably. “Stop twisting my leg. I'm going.”

Ocellus heads off to the exit of the room. Along the way, I see a rising shimmer of magic shoot up from the ground and sail a few feet over her head. When the column of light vanishes, I notice Ocellus in the form of a tall yellow earth pony mare with a straight, long pink mane. The form kind of reminds me of Fluttershy but without the wings. When she turns her head to face me, I notice it's more elongated compared to Fluttershy. She also has brown eyes instead and freckles on her cheeks. Once I get a better look at her, I realize the apparent age of this new form isn't quite high enough to be considered an adult mare yet, but it's close.

“I'll be back soon,” Ocellus informs me in a voice that is a little deeper. “Stay here until I get back with the cloak. I'm trusting you because I know you're the real Sweetie Belle now.”

“Thank you, Ocellus,” I tell her gratefully.

“Sure,” Ocellus accepts a little bitterly. She was about to turn her head back towards the exit until something else occurs to her. She looks back at me and asks, “Come to think of it, wouldn't your sister's shop be closed and locked at this hour? Rarity should be at the Friendship School instead by now.”

“Oh! Shoot!” I realize with bitter shock. “That might be a problem unless you get the keys from Rarity.”

“No.” Ocellus shakes her head. “That would tip the others off to our plan.” She sighs as she looks back at the door. “It's okay. I'll just morph into something small enough to fit through the door cracks.”

“You can do that?” I ask her with a surprised blink.

“Sure,” Ocellus answers with a bit of flattered delight in her voice.

I grunt before saying, “I really wish I could do that right now. If I could master this body's inherent morphic qualities, I wouldn't even need the stupid cloak.”

Ocellus shrugs as she reminds me, “It should come off as natural instinct. I think I heard you emulate your own natural voice a couple of times. Other than that, I don't know what else to tell you.”

I sigh then wave her off with a hoof dismissively as I say, “Well . . . whatever. Hopefully I figure it out soon. In the meantime, get me that cloak.”

Ocellus does depart which leaves me alone with my disturbing thoughts for a while.

It didn't take long for Ocellus to return to me with an adequate deep purple cloak with crimson velvet lining. One side of the cloak sparkles with glitter. I decide to wear that side in the interior because I don't want to stand out too much right now.

Feeling more secure with my new borrowed prize, Ocellus and I make our way to the Ponyville Hospital. Before entering, I instruct Ocellus to disguise herself as my mom. In response, she rolls her eyes but cooperates with my instructions because she agrees it should make it easier to get an excuse to see my unconscious body in the hospital.

While talking to the nurse at the reception desk, I notice sympathy instead of surprise upon seeing my “mom”. I inwardly breathe a sigh of relief because it means my real mother probably isn't here, or else this nurse would be confused why my mother entered the building twice without seeming to leave once. In response to a question of who I am, Ocellus replies that I am a concerned relative. I inwardly nod at this and applaud Ocellus's answer because it's technically true. I love it when I can claim the moral high ground as much as I can.

Without further hesitation, the nurse directs us to the room number my other body is stored in. She also adds that Princess Twilight and Starlight followed that patient to the room. I get the distinct impression we are told this so that we're aware we need to engage the situation with some royal etiquette.

We make our way to the indicated room. We do our best to avoid the other ponies along the way. I don't even attempt to make eye contact which is something I would not normally do, but these are trying times.

I reach my hoof up to the correct door but Ocellus applies her own hoof on top of my own, which is still disguised as my mother, as she warns, “You heard what the nurse said, right? Princess Twilight and Starlight are in there. Maybe now isn't the best time to enter. At least now we know which room number it is.”

I still find it eerie to see and hear Ocellus talking to me in my mother's voice. Seeing her disguised as a stranger I found fascinating, but this form is familiar enough to me to make the situation feel awkward and borderline creepy even though this was my idea.

“I don't care,” I say back firmly, then amend with a softer voice, “Well, I take it back. I do care, but not enough to stop me. I have to find out what's going on. That might be my real body in there. I deserve to know what is happening.”

Ocellus lowers her hoof from on top of mine as she says, “If you're right, then your mind somehow got pushed into the body of another changeling. That probably happened before Starlight cast that spell using the Cutie Map.”

I nod as I say, “Which is why it was a factor in place that Starlight couldn't account for. Not even I knew that.”

“If all of this is true, who is the changeling you're currently inhabiting? If that body used to belong to another, I wonder who he was.”

“You came from the hive,” I remind Ocellus. “Don't you recognize this body at all? Even a little?”

Ocellus, still wearing the form of my mother, shakes her head before saying, “No. Not that I'm aware of. We, changelings, do indeed have an uncanny sense for changeling identity despite how similar we look to each other unless we deliberately hide it behind another disguise. That said, I can say with reasonable confidence that this body,” she gestures to me, “doesn't seem familiar to me in the slightest.” Her hoof returns to the floor. “That's a very disturbing thought because, if I'm right, this changeling was unaccounted for.

“What if he's not the only one? Perhaps he's one of many secret sects that hid themselves in an effort to avoid detection and reformation. Maybe they more dogmatically stayed faithful and loyal to Queen Chrysalis.

“More and more, I'm growing increasingly concerned about leaving King Thorax in the dark about all of this. Unaccounted evil changelings, a possible secret sect hiding in the shadows, one of them possessed by you for some reason while your real body lies unconscious in this next room.”

Ocellus looks at the door we're about to enter as she asks, “What if that is not your real body either? What if it's yet another changeling in disguise?” She looks at me. “That could explain why that body has the wrong cutie mark. It might be an issue of misinformation.”

“But the Cutie Map led us to that forest,” I remind Ocellus. “I concentrated on Button Mash as hard as I could.”

“Agreed, but there still is a chance for misdirection here,” Ocellus warns. “Maybe Button really is in that forest, just like the Cutie Map said, but he's still in there. And, instead of finding him, we picked up a decoy that was meant to throw us off track as well as invite a spy into our midst.”

I frown as I look down. That thought had not occurred to me but, now that it is, I have to admit that is plausible. I feel disturbed upon realizing that because that not only means Button remains unrescued but we picked up a fake on top of that. A fake who may cause us serious harm later on.

I jolt, startled, when the door before us suddenly opens. Beyond it, we see Starlight Glimmer giving us both a deadpan expression.

“If you two wanted to be sneaky, you could learn to be a little more quiet,” Starlight scolds us.

“Sorry,” I apologize while nervously shuffling my hooves.

“And you,” Starlight says to Ocellus directly, “get out of that form now. You weren't given permission to take it.”

“Sorry,” Ocellus echoes before changing her form back to her natural form.

“Well . . . come in, you two. If you're both going to sneak out of the dorm rooms just to be here, you might as well get something out of it,” Starlight invites as she steps aside so we may enter.

“Thank you, Starlight!” I express very gratefully as I practically bounce into the room just like Pinkie Pie. Furthermore, just like the physics-breaking pink mare, I actually freeze in mid-air for a few seconds as I behold, with strong surprise, the fact that Cream Heart, Button's mom, is also here.

“Uh . . .” I say with a blank expression of shock while I gradually float back down to the ground. “What are you doing here, Missus Heart?”

“I should be asking you that same question,” Twilight tells me with an annoyed expression on her face towards me and Ocellus.

“Well, to be honest, I'm not sure myself,” Cream Heart replies to my previous question. “I should be looking after my son.”

“Um,” I look at the other mares in the room nervously. “Does she know about me and who I am?”

“I may have mentioned a few things,” Starlight confesses as she trots to the foot of the bed where my unconscious body is lying. “She took it fairly well considering everything else that's been happening.”

“Yes. I'm sorry what happened to you, my dear,” Cream Heart tells me. “I'm confused too. After all, if you're Sweetie Belle with current appearance to the contrary, then who is this?” she asks as she nods to my unconscious body. “Also, why does your body have my son's cutie mark? None of this makes any sense.”

“I have a good hunch what's going on,” Starlight says. “But I won't know for sure until our patient here rouses. The doctors say it should happen at any moment now. When that happens, hopefully we'll get some answers to this mystery.”

“I agree,” Twilight concurs. “Whatever answers we get from her now may dictate our next course of action.”

“I hope it's occurred to you all that this might be another changeling in disguise,” Ocellus warns as she moves further into the room. “If that is the case, be on your guard. This one might not be a nice changeling.”

“Even if that's true, this little one isn't faking being unconscious,” Starlight tells us. “The doctors also said she's a bit malnourished. Furthermore, there is evidence that she's been in a state of suspended hibernation for quite some time, but it's hard to estimate exactly how long.”

Ocellus nods as she informs, “That is consistent with what I know of victims stored in changeling slime. We used to use that method to store our food for gradual consumption.”

I look at Ocellus in surprise as I say, “But you told me that . . .” I trail off as I realize I was about to accidentally break a promise of a secret I was meant to keep, so instead, I divert my next sentence too, “I, uh . . . didn't know you changelings do that.”

“There is a lot of things we did that I'd prefer not to talk about,” Ocellus says uncomfortably.

It could be because of all the noise we're making in the room, I am not sure, but I see the face of my body on the bed squint before she squirms in discomfort. As I behold this, it dawns on me how utterly weird it feels to behold my own body from an outside perspective. I've seen myself plenty enough times in the mirror but the reflection usually follows my movements.

I can't help but notice little flaws on her, too, like her still matted mane. I have to struggle to resist the urge to move forward and correct it. That's probably Rarity's influence in me. She taught me to have a keen eye for detail and to care about such things. My eye for detail isn't nearly as keen as my sister's but I still feel self-conscious about obvious flaws.

But what if this isn't my body? What if Ocellus is right and this is yet another changeling in disguise? In that case, it would be pretty rude to approach and correct somepony else’s appearance. Right?

“Hello there, Sweetie,” Starlight calls to the other me as she continues to squirm and gradually rouses. “Can you hear us?”

There is no obvious response. Because of that, she looks at Cream Heart and requests, “I want you to talk to her. Something tells me you'll provoke a greater response from this one.”

Cream Heart looks taken aback as she asks, “Why? Shouldn't her parents be here instead?”

Starlight shakes her head before pointing at me and says, “No because that is the real Sweetie Belle.” She nods to indicate me while still looking down at my rousing white unicorn body. “Whoever this is is somepony else.”

Cream Heart looks shocked as something dawns on her. For a moment she struggles to say something but she ends up just moving her lips. In the end, she fails to say anything before the little filly on the bed beats her to it.

“Mom? Is that you?” we hear the filly on the bed groan in my voice. “Where are you? I can't see . . .” She trails off as her vision gains greater clarity. She focuses on Cream Heart in the room then smiles fondly. “Oh. There you are.”

Stunned silence crashes into the room, broken first by the same filly.

“What's going on? Why are you all standing here? What am I doing here?” My other self looks startled to see Princess Twilight. That only serves to deepen the mystery for her. “What is . . . and why am I . . .” She chokes then attempts to clear her voice before asking, “And what's wrong with my voice? Why do I sound like Sweetie Belle?”

“Buh . . . Button Mash?!” Cream Heart asks with stunned awe.

“Of course, Mom! Who else would I be?” the filly on the bed asks as she looks at Cream Heart. She grows more frightened as she asks, “What's going on? Why am . . .” She trails off again when she beholds her own hooves. This causes her to widen her eyes in deep and sudden shock. Seconds later she spares another moment to check out the rest of her body then lifts her mane and brings it forward enough to look at it. She freezes for several seconds as she looks at it. After a few seconds, she starts hyperventilating.

“Calm down, Button,” Starlight urges when the filly starts to panic. “You're okay now. Everything is going to be okay.”

“WHY AM I SWEETIE BELLE?!” Button screeches in panic in my body. “Mah . . . Mom-mmyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!” She dissolves into a panicked cry.

Despite how stunned she feels, Cream Heart bends down and hugs the little filly on the bed out of pure nurturing instinct. To me, she appears nearly on the verge of crying and/or panicking herself, but she set that aside for the moment to take care of her foal.

“So it's true,” Starlight figures. “Button Mash's consciousness was transferred to Sweetie Belle's body when I performed my magical experiment. That also explains why his cutie mark and magic are missing from his native body. Apparently that magic got drained and transferred to this body instead.”

“But why?” Twilight asks. “This doesn't make any sense.”

“It might if Sweetie Belle was already inhabiting a changeling body without her knowledge,” Starlight explains. “I can't explain how and why that transfer occurred in the first place but . . . if it was already true before I started my experiment, it might serve to reveal how unusual magic was already in place.” She looks at her old teacher directly. “I submit the possibility that Sweetie Belle was already in the body of another changeling. When she got tied up in my magic spell, it didn't transform her into a changeling. Instead, it accidentally revealed her true form. A form that she didn't know about herself.

“As for Button Mash, he was the target of the spell. Somehow there was a chain reaction where there was a feedback loop between Sweetie Belle and her body . . . maybe. Button got caught in the channeled flow of magic too and somehow that transferred his consciousness to Sweetie's body.” Starlight looks at me. “Notably, your true body.” She shakes her head as she looks back at Twilight. “I don't think this one is a changeling. Not this time. Instead, you are beholding the body of the true Sweetie Belle. One who got ponynapped and replaced some time ago.”

“Then she is . . .” Twilight says with wide eyes as she looks at me.

“She is Sweetie Belle too,” Starlight assures, “but just her mind this time, not her body.”

“Then what happened to the consciousness of that original body?” Twilight asks Starlight. “Was it transferred to somepony else?”

“Now that is where my theories draw a line,” Starlight informs. “I don't know what happened to the original consciousness of that body. It might still be in there, ready to awaken like a sleeper agent.”

I widen my eyes in shock. Out of the corner of her eye, Starlight apparently notices because she focuses on me next and asks me, “What is it, Sweetie Belle? Did you realize something?”

“That's Sweetie Belle?” Button asks over the shoulder of her mother. “Then, um . . . if she is the real Sweetie Belle then what am I doing in her body?

“More importantly, can somepony dispel this awful nightmare I'm suffering from right now?”

“We'll explain everything soon, Button,” Starlight assures the young filly. “As soon as we gather more answers ourselves.” She focuses back on me. “What is it, Sweetie? Tell me anything you know relevant to this situation.”

“You think I've been replaced and relocated in this body for quite a while?” I check with Starlight.

She nods at me then says, “That's the working theory so far.”

I apply a stunned hoof to the side of my head as I muse aloud, “I wonder if the switch coincides with the awful dreams I've been having for almost a year.”

“Awful dreams?!” Starlight asks with rising alarm. “Tell me more!” she insists.

“For almost a year now I keep getting chased by somepony or something in my dreams,” I explain to everypony in the room and Starlight in particular. “There are many variances to the dreams but I'm always being chased by what feels like a malevolent force, and I'm pretty sure it's a he. He often whistles casually as he chases me. The whistle itself seems innocent enough but, given the fact he keeps chasing after me, it takes on a sinister twist. Sometimes I call out to him but he doesn't answer other than a short pause sometimes as if he's using my call to zero in on my position. I rarely see him outright. Instead, he just keeps closing in on me. Getting closer and closer while ever continuing that haunting whistle.

“During the rare times I do encounter him, I usually see him in some other form. Of those, a raven is the most common.”

“A raven, you say?!” Twilight gasps in my direction then transfers that startled look of realization to Starlight. “Like that raven we saw in the Everfree Forest?”

“It might be just a bird, but we can't dismiss the possibility it was something else,” Starlight partially agrees, then she shudders. “I really did get sinister vibes from that little bird. The form itself seemed relatively innocent enough but . . . there was just something off about that bird. Maybe it was the menacing way he just kept staring at us.”

“It probably was a changeling in disguise,” Ocellus proposes. “If so, he saw me with you all in my true form so he knows you're working with a changeling too.” She looks at me. “Or I guess two changelings now.”

I break down into a cry as I think about those awful dreams and how frightening it is to realize there might be some true sentient and sinister force lurking behind it all along. All that time I was in true danger! Could he actually kill me in my dreams? And, if so, what will happen to me? What will happen to my friends if he wakes up in this body instead of me?

I sit down on the ground and squash my ears on my head with my forehooves as that haunting whistle returns to my head except, this time, that cold and empty feeling returns along with it. Hunger deepens in my system which makes me feel cold and lifeless. It feels like I'm drowning in a dark abyss.

“Sweetie Belle, stay with me!” Ocellus insists when she sees that look of horror and despair start to sink into my face. During this time she is before me and applies both of her forehooves firmly on my shoulders. “Look at me, Sweetie!” I do so. “Keep looking at my face. Hear the warmth in my voice. Smell the love and caring of everypony in this room. Keep reminding yourself that you are Sweetie Belle, and that you are a lovely and lovable filly who always deserves deep affection.”

I do so. I breathe deep. As I do so, I smell this intoxicating scent of . . . Well, I don't know how to describe it but, whatever it is, it is a very pleasant scent. The scent soothes me and sends warm feelings deep into my chest like drinking a warm cup of chocolate milk. My breathing eases as this soothing sensation fills me and yet it also makes me glow with internal giddy affection. By smelling that, I feel so loved.

“We need to deal with this issue right away,” Starlight says in a very serious voice. “Somehow, I think the culprit is listening in on every word we say through her.” She nods to indicate me.

Author's Note

A show of hands. How many of you saw this coming?

The "gender-bend" genre tag now has an extra layer of meaning, and Button Mash is now more officially part of the story. Yet another promised main cast steps up to the plate.

In this case, a little unwillingly.

Chapter 18: The Face of the Enemy

“I don't get it, Starlight,” I complain as Twilight ties me in tight on Fluttershy's throne in the throne room of Starlight's Castle. “Why all these precautions?”

Starlight opens her mouth as if to answer my question but, since her teacher speaks first, Starlight shifts her eyes to look at her old teacher instead.

“Is this too tight?” Twilight asks me with concern. “Because I can loosen it. I don't want to hurt you.”

“No! Don't!” Starlight objects urgently then spoke in a calmer manner. “I'm sorry, Twilight and Sweetie, but these ropes must be tight because we might soon be confronting the culprit.”

“How?” I ask before wincing due to Twilight's efforts to tighten the rope. I look at her in pain but also some understanding. “I'm not the culprit,” I go on to say as I look back at Starlight. “I'm the victim, so why are the ropes on me?”

“Yeah, but I believe the culprit is there and aware within you,” Starlight tells me then instructs Twilight, “When you are done with that rope, seal these doors with a magical binding spell just in case he breaks out of these ropes.”

“I think I'm done now,” Twilight informs us. “So I'll work on sealing the doors.”

“Do you have any of your Canterlot Palace Guards with you?” Starlight checks with Twilight. “It is standard procedure for them to follow an Equestrian Princess.”

“Usually, but I teleported here,” Twilight expresses as she does exactly that to get to each door. From there, she swirls her horn while it glows. It causes a trail to follow which roughly shapes into an S pattern. That pattern gets bound within an O pattern before the symbol shoots into a doorknob.

“Is somepony going to fill me in on the current plan?” I kindly request with a bit of worry in my annoyingly manly voice. “Because, right now, I'm feeling like I need an adult.”

Starlight tests the door that her old teacher sealed. The doorknob won't even budge anymore. She takes it and rocks the door back and forth in an attempt to force open the door anyway, but it does not give. She then looks at Twilight while passing her a wink and a nod.

“I'd like to be filled in too,” Ocellus requests while she sits on Rarity's throne. “I assume you brought us both for a reason, yet you didn't tie me up so I'm guessing there is some role you want me to play?”

“Is it true that changelings can smell emotions?” Starlight asks Ocellus as she trots her way back to the Friendship Table.

Is it?

I also look at Ocellus curiously for that answer. If the answer is yes, that is a very curious and useful trait.

“Ah . . . yes,” Ocellus answers. “We needed it to smell the emotions that we formerly fed off of.”

“Can you still do it?” Starlight checks with the changeling. “Also, can you smell other emotions too and not just love?”

“Certainly,” Ocellus replies. “Every emotion gives off a certain kind of pheromone which our race can smell. Often we can even do it while we assume other shapes.

“There are certain exceptions, of course. Mineral-based life forms hardly give off any scent other than earth. Some other species project intense scent while others have almost none. Furthermore, every factor that can affect scent does do so in this case. For example, we can smell emotions at a considerably greater distance if we're downwind to our targets. In the reverse case, we might not smell them at all even if we're standing right next to them.”

“Well, there should be no wind in this room,” Starlight figures as she examines her surroundings before looking back at Ocellus. “So I want you to remain close to us and Sweetie Belle in particular. If you start smelling any sudden change in behavior in her then I want you to inform us immediately.”

I squint one eye as I ask, “So we're just going to ask the culprit to reveal himself politely? I don't see what incentive he has if he was content to hide himself for this long. Also, what if he can't take me over? Maybe the only reason he hasn't done it for this long is simply because he can't.”

“Trust me, I thought of that,” Starlight tells me as she also looks at me. “That's why I'm going to induce an altered state of consciousness in you.”

“Huh?” The eye I have already squinted squints tighter. “So . . . you're plan is to hypnotize me? Can you do that? Have you done that before?”

Starlight sighs, then says, “The answer to your first question is yes, the answer to your second question is maybe, and the answer to your last question is no. That said, I have read on the subject and I believe I can do this.”

Starlight looks down as she sighs for a second then focuses back on me as she says, “Look . . . you told me earlier that you've been having bad dreams that involve the culprit. I believe that is a sign that he's still in there in that body. I also believe that is another layer of his plan. Why invite your mind into his body and he just takes off somewhere else? What does that accomplish?”

I shrug a little bit but the ropes greatly minimized that movement. The effort also irritated my hide so I think it's best not to move too much anymore. At least not until these darn ropes come off.

“But consider this,” Starlight encourages with a lift of a lilac-colored hoof. “What if he's still inside you with the ability to take over at any moment? What does he gain by inviting your mind into his body?”

I shrug again because I forgot my earlier promise. That causes me to wince in pain again.

Starlight points at me as she says, “Perfect infiltration,” she answers. “If he has your mind immediately accessible and he lets you be yourself with the ability to take over later subtly or overtly, then he can blend into society so well that none would be the wiser.”

I gulp nervously, then ask, “If all you say is true then why me? Why would he go for a little filly? I'm not a major power player in Equestria.”

“Now that,” the hoof Starlight pointed at me earlier shakes for a second in order to continue to emphasize me while she says, “I'm not sure.” She shrugs as she finally rests her hoof back to the ground. “I can't possibly know all the in's and out's of a mad changeling. Maybe you were just a convenient target or a test subject for grander experiments on others.”

“Pushing the mind of a little filly into the body of another changeling,” Twilight muses with a shake of her head. In her eyes, I can see she looks spooked. “And just where did this changeling come from anyway?” She looks at Ocellus. “Were all of the changelings accounted for or not?”

“That I know of,” Ocellus supplies innocently. “All of those who are accounted for include the knowledge of every changeling who has been converted. They were forthcoming to Thorax about all they knew.

“Some were in the hive when they transformed along with Thorax and some weren't,” Ocellus goes on to tell us. “On the whole, I'd say most of the changelings were there and converted that day, including me. A vast majority of the hive always lived and remained along with the rest of the hive. The only ones who weren't there were infiltrators gathering energy for us on the field. When they came back, we were quick to encourage them towards a better option than starving all the time.” She shrugs. “The rest is history.”

Ocellus then looks at me before she eventually adds, “But if there were a rogue group of changelings that no one in the hive knew about, I suppose they could have remained at large.”

“Queen Chrysalis is still captured and in stone,” Twilight puts in. “So I know she can't be responsible for any of this fiasco.”

“Well,” Starlight says as she looks from her mentor to me. “Hopefully we'll get some answers soon. We got her tied up and the doors are locked. The three of us are here to monitor the situation too, so we should be good to go.

“And, Sweetie Belle, I want to make sure you know that, whatever happens, I'll make sure you come back to us.”

“Okay,” I say in a small, nervous voice.

Starlight leans forward to have her face closer to mine as she says, “I mean it, Sweetie Belle. I won't let you down. Everything I'm doing right now is for your benefit. We need to know what's going on. If we do, we'll be at least one step closer to unraveling all of this mystery and getting you back to normal. I promise.”

I shut my eyes in a tight squint as I complain, “Let's just get this over with! I want my life back.” I open my eyes to resume looking at Starlight. “I want my body back. I want Button to have his body back. I'm so glad he's not lost in that forest anymore but what he's going through now might scar him for life. Kind of like how I feel right now.”

I look down sadly as I add, “Besides, what's happening to him now is all my fault. I'm the one that thought of him when you did your magical experiment.”

“You had no way of knowing that would happen, Sweetie Belle,” Starlight assures. “But now that we do know, let's work to fix this once and for all.”

“Okay,” I say again in a small, frightened voice. I sigh, then say, “Hopefully this will take care of the nightmares too.”

“Let's get started,” Starlight decides then retrieves something which, at first, I thought was too cliche to work. She takes a pocket watch and just dangles it back and forth. She instructs my eyes to follow it.

But, more than that, what seems to work on me better is her soothing voice telling me to relax. The repetitiveness of watching the watch swing back and forth lulled my senses. I trust Starlight, too, so I know I'm in good hooves. Whatever happens now, I know she's working to help me solve this problem.

At first I feel like I am being put asleep in order to do a complex surgery on me. An operation that is so dangerous that I might not survive it. That, in turn, means it is difficult to relax but that soothing voice and swing of the chain still lulls me to sleep anyway. I'm honestly surprised how effective it is.

While in a trance, my mind drifts to a formless environment. I feel this floating but also slowly falling sensation. From within that darkness, I hear Starlight's voice echo around me as she asks to speak with the entity that inhabits this body along with me.

I have nothing to do with this. I don't really feel like I have too much control. Starlight is telling me that I do and that this is like my dream, yet part of me doesn't believe her because I know there is another entity that shares my existence here. The one that has been haunting my dreams for almost a year.

“Hello?” I call out into the darkness. I notice that my voice, too, echoes in this void. “To the one that shares my existence with me, make yourself known. We don't want to hurt you. We just want to talk.”

I wait for a response. As I do, I feel myself gently settle on a formless nothing as if I am now standing on an invisible floor in the middle of a giant field of empty darkness. Since no response seems forthcoming, I venture on to say, “Maybe we can even be friends?” I ask with desperate hope.

After I ask that, I finally hear some kind of response. It sounds like hoof steps drawing close to me. The startling thing is it sounds like it started only a few feet away and, from there, it draws even closer, and yet I can't see him. I can't see anything in this black void around me.

“Please don't be mad!” I cry out as I cringe fearfully. “We just want to talk to you.”

Every instinct within me cries out for me to flee but, for once, I hold my ground. I search out there into the endless abyss for any sign of the other entity. I hear the hoof steps stop next to me then there was a pause where nothing happens.

I wait.

And I wait.

And wait.

Till finally . . .

Eyes open in the dark. Eyes that glow in the dark. Eyes that are right in front of me, inches from my face.

I scream, startled, as I withdraw a few feet. The entity ahead of me now holds his ground and does not seem to follow.

Then, all of a sudden, he looks up before seeming to float on up. The more he ascends, the faster he ascends. I lose track of him within seconds, especially when nothing about him stands out except for those glowing, menacing eyes.

“STARLIGHT!” I scream out in the darkness. “HE'S COMING!!”

Next I open my eyes which, in itself, is a weird sensation because it seemed like my eyes were open before. I am looking down at my black thighs for a second before lifting my gaze to look up at Starlight.

But something is wrong. I didn't do that! My head and my gaze lifted beyond my control.

Panic seeps deep within me as I realize that the other entity is finally in full control of our shared body.

“Sweetie Belle?” Starlight checks in front of me.

The entity just stares at Starlight with a very focused cold look.

“No?” Starlight checks. “Then whom, may I ask, am I talking to?”

“Be careful Starlight,” Ocellus cautions tensely. “This one gives off a very different scent. This is definitely not Sweetie Belle.”

At this moment I feel some of the thoughts of the other entity. It is because of that that I realize he has absolutely no intention to answer that question, especially not honestly. He's here to collect information, not give it. And besides, he knows he can inspire more terror in silence and that is a gift he specializes in.

He continues to stare at Starlight coldly to keep her attention on that instead of the fact that he has already morphed the shape of his hooves and slicing through the rope at this very moment.

“What do you want from us? Why did you ponynap Sweetie Belle?” Starlight continues to probe.

The entity just continues to stare at Starlight with cold and calculating eyes.

“My name is Princess Twilight Sparkle,” Twilight introduces a short distance behind Starlight. “Perhaps you heard of-”

Twilight gets cut off when the entity controlling my (or rather I should say our) body suddenly headbutts Starlight without warning except he also morphs on rams horns very nearly instantly. As a result, Starlight stumbles back as blood leaks out her smashed-in snout.

Everyone else in the room freezes in shock, including me inwardly. I just can't believe how quickly and easily it happened.

The entity stands up so quickly and forcefully from Fluttershy's throne that he knocks it back. Doing this finally snaps Twilight to attention. She backs off a few startled steps while blasting purple beams of energy at me. In response, the entity controlling me flings himself at Twilight but he dodges her attacks in a way I can barely describe. It's like he swims around each of her hornbeams. First, he comes at her from an impossibly low angle then curves up and around her successive beams before looping again in a spiral of motion. This kind of movement should be physically impossible, even for a flying creature, because we're coming at Twilight too low to the ground at first. It was like we were squashed into a form that's only a few inches thick.

It takes only two seconds for the entity to close the gap between him and Twilight. When he does, he pauses his motion just a bit past Twilight. I feel his left forehoof thrust through Twilight's abdomen. Off the corner of my eye, I notice that thrust through was a very accurate term because his right forehoof instantly transformed into a blade that is dripping with blood on the other side of Twilight's back.

But the entity does not look at her. He simply looks past her as if Twilight isn't even worth a second glance. He just freezes for a few seconds as both Twilight and I absorb the shock of this all.

Then, when time finally seems to unfreeze, Twilight falls forward. While that happens, the entity withdraws his bladed hoof out of her. In mid-motion, it morphs back into a black, and now bloodied, changeling hoof with holes in it. At the same time, he trots past the possibly dead Equestrian Princess without a second look back to her. Instead of that, he focuses on his new problem; the door to this room.

Since my mind is so numb with shock, I just barely register the fact that he's aware that the front door is magically sealed. The fact that he knew that also implies he was aware of my experiences before this moment. Either that, or he read my memories after taking over the body.

But I also notice that this does not concern him in the slightest. He has had plenty of training in how to disable locks both mundane and magical.

When he gets to the door, I notice him ignite his horn. The doorknob gets enveloped with sparkling green magic. He takes a moment to examine the enchantment before committing to his next move. By casting another spell, ten strobe-like flashes emanate from the doorknob. Doing so decimates Twilight's earlier enchantment on it with ease.

The door is now unlocked!

He reaches up with a hoof to open the door until he suddenly crashes down on his knees when something struck us from behind. He whips his head back only to be confronted by what appears to be a giant bugbear. I remember seeing one of those attack Ponyville a few years earlier. I wasn't afraid of it then, but I am now.

The entity narrows our eyes at the bugbear. During that time, I feel him realize that this is Ocellus before us in bugbear form. Until I sensed those thoughts, that thought didn't even occur to me. Conversely, this entity didn't appear to realize that Ocellus would even attack at all. He dismissed her earlier because she was a fellow changeling and he thought she was too timid. He also thought this attack would not occur because he knows that she knows that I am in this body too.

But, apparently, the shock of what she just witnessed pulled her sanity over the edge, at least temporarily.

As the entity has our body stand back up, I start to register a sharp pain along the side of my ribs which extends all the way to my left rear thigh. It is only then that I notice one of Ocellus's claws is dripping with a little bit of blood. She must have slashed me with that claw.

Ocellus, in bugbear form, growls at us and clenches her claws to her side. There is a firm look in her altered state eyes that seem to warn us that we better stay down or she'll attack again, yet we also notice those claws shivering. The entity within me figures that is a strong sign that Ocellus remains very, very reluctant to hurt us despite all that's happened.

I feel his sinister mind start to turn as an idea occurs to him. Then, a moment later, he changes our shape into that of me as a white unicorn filly. He notices how this new shape invokes a startled reaction from Ocellus. She steps back a bit as she beholds this new development.

I feel the entity give Ocellus a pleading look. I feel tears start to rise in my eyes. I knew that if I was in control, I'd be crying anyway because of the continued pain on my ribs, left thigh, and because of my psychological torment of seeing Starlight and Twilight so hurt earlier.

In any case, his strategy appears to work. Both concern and sympathy appear to be evoked in Ocellus which means she let down her guard.

Then, an instant later, my horn ignites with magic. The same aura envelops Ocellus's head which is still in bugbear form. I even notice how the aura color is my natural pale green. Using that hold, he opts to smash her head against the wall beside her. Doing so causes her to fall unconscious and revert back to her natural form.

Following that, the entity takes a moment to concentrate on the slash wound we already suffered. In response to that, he actually morphs the wound closed which heals it in an instant, but I notice the fact that doing so requires active concentration on his part and he had to fight through the pain in order to achieve that.

Satisfied with the results, he rear kicks open the door behind us, back out of it, then spins about in order to continue forward. He's still wearing my form in order to blend in more along his way out.

I am so numb with shock that I can barely think straight as the entity winds our body through the crowd of Ponyville. Hardly anypony else spares me a second glance because, to them, I look like Sweetie Belle. The only reason they should feel surprised to see me is because I should be in school right now.

As the entity proceeds, I hear him whistle an innocent tune using the sound of my own voice. It is the same tune that haunted me in my dreams for . . . Well, I can hardly recall how long it's been.

“Good morning, Sweetie Belle,” greets a cream color earth pony mare with a mostly rust red tail and mane and a thin stripe dull pink.

“Good morning, Rose,” the entity controlling me correctly greets her in a jolly way, eerily using my voice to do so. Notably this is also the first time I ever heard him speak, including my dreams. Until now, I had wondered if he could do that at all.

“Shouldn't you be at school right now?” Rose inquires with a light tone of voice. It barely sounds like she's scolding me.

“I'm on my way back there right now,” the entity replies with an equally friendly tone. “At Miss Cheerilee's request, I dropped off an apple pie at the Friendship School to repay a debt to one of the students who did a favor for her earlier. I, meanwhile, was only too happy to help.”

Rose smiles at me brightly as she says, “You're such a good little filly!” She waves goodbye at me as I continue my way. “Have fun at school!”

“I will! Thank you!” the entity calls back to Rose in a bright and sunny way before shifting to an evil smirk the moment he turns our head away from Rose.

This is hopeless! Simply hopeless! The entity sounds just like me! It's as if he's been mimicking and studying me all my life.

But the entity pauses, caught off-guard, when he notices Starlight Glimmer stumbling about the crowd of Ponyville. Some seem to ask her in concern what is wrong with her. From a distance, we can also see that Starlight has cast off the magic gauze from her horn. Likewise, her horn is aglow with magic right now. I feel some concern for her health because of that but, right now, I'm also greatly relieved to see her well and on her way. Maybe whatever magic she is casting is helping her track us?

I notice the entity reach the same conclusion with suspicion. He isn't sure this is the case, but it feels odd to him that Starlight managed to track us down this far. He decides to test that theory and, if it seems like she can track us down somehow, then he might need to put her down more permanently.

He looks around to observe where the attention of the rest of the crowd is. When it seems like no pony is looking at us, he morphs his form to that of a green mare with three colored stripe mane and tail of yellow, lime green, and dark green. In the case of our mane, it is done up in a bun. We're also wearing horn-rimmed glasses now which tells me changelings can assume the form of equipment in addition to changing our body.

In this new form, we weave through the crowd fast enough to gain some distance from Starlight. Then, when we gain a good lead, he veers into an alleyway between two yellow buildings with a brown thatched roof. From there, the entity presses us flat against the wall then morphs our form to stretch out as a second layer of the same wall. He also changes our color to match the background perfectly.

And that's it. With a two-dimensional form morphed as a second layer of one of the walls, we wait to see if Starlight Glimmer shows up again.

Two minutes later, Starlight does show up which means she really can track us somehow. Maybe I shouldn't question it. It's Starlight Glimmer, after all. I gave up predicting all the kinds of spells she can cast long ago. Right now I'm just so relieved to see her, but I'm gravely worried for her, too.

Starlight starts to pass us for a moment but her head pulls back midway down the alley as if some invisible force grabbed her horn and yanked her back a bit. She doesn't really resist that impulse. Rather, she goes with the flow of it. She turns her head and gazes across the alley with confused, searching eyes. Slowly, she makes her way towards us while aiming her horn in various directions.

In hindsight, it kind of resembles my big sister's gem-finding spell.

As soon as she ventures within a few inches from us, a tentacle shoots out of the wall which ends in a barbed pincer claw. Using this, the entity slams and nails Starlight across the alleyway against the other wall. From there, he lifts her off the ground so that her physical struggles will have very little leverage to work with. This action is also piercing her neck and choking her. Several trickles of blood shortly leak down from her neck because of this action.

The entity morphs on his natural head which is still attached to the rest of our wall form. From there, he gives Starlight an evil smirk then speaks to her in his own voice for the first time.

“You sly little sneak,” he mocks Starlight with an impressed tone dripping with evil cunning. “You really do have a spell for everything, don't you?”

Starlight attempts to apply her forehooves on the spiked pincer claw which is pressing her against the other wall. She is attempting to loosen it enough so she can recover her breath, but she pauses and widens her eyes at us when the entity morphs his face away from the wall behind us and stretches it across the alleyway on a nightmarishly creepy long neck. Along the way, he drops our jaw too low which hangs as if it is unhinged. Two fangs grow down the top of our mouth. He hisses at her as he floats our head over to hers.

“What am I going to do with you?” he wonders as he hangs our head close to Starlight. “If I let you go, you can just track us down again with that annoying spell of yours. Worse, you might teach it to other gifted unicorns if you haven't already. In the process, you signed their death warrants.”

Starlight looks extremely creeped out by us but, otherwise, she is choking to death. She cringes back as hard as she can as we float inches from her face and breathe in a deep whiff of her.

“Feeeeeeeeeeear!” he purrs with pleasure. “Now that is more like it, but too little, too late, I'm afraid. I keep a tidy operation which means I can't have weaknesses like you roaming about. Say your prayers, Starlight, for this is your last day in life.”

The entity morphs our eyes into . . . Well, I don't really know what, but our vision seems to change a bit and I feel his confidence that, whatever he's done, should take care of Starlight once and for all.

Then, with horror, I notice Starlight's flesh is shifting into stone. He's petrifying her just like the stare of a cockatrice!

“When I shatter your stone form,” the entity has me say with sinister delight, “I think I'll keep a piece as a souvenir of our little encounter together.”

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Inwardly screaming with all of my might, I suddenly fight against the entity within me. I don't know if I'll succeed. My doubts shall not permit me to give up before I try. I don't even really consider that. I just fight him with a sudden burst of overwhelming passion.

“No! You!” the entity hisses as he closes our eyes and whips our head back and forth. “Back off, little filly! I'll deal with you next!”

Then, without warning, I see stars for a split second before losing consciousness completely.

Author's Note

So now the antagonist of the story gets a little "face time" in this story.

I hope he delivers on feeling like a legit threat. I also wanted to showcase a mere sample of how overpowered I suspect a changeling can get if they happen to be exceptionally well trained.

Chapter 19: Ghosts

The sensation that stirs me awake the most is a splitting headache. As I rouse further, I notice that the pain is in an even more specific area. The right side of my head in particular. I also feel a very cold sensation in that same area. It's numbing the pain a bit.

I groan as I turn in somepony's bed. As I do so, that cold sensation on the pained side of my head slides off. My eyes slowly flutter awake.

“Sweetie Belle? Is that you?” I hear Ocellus from somewhere in the room.

“Yeh . . . yeah,” I groan with a croaked voice. Now my voice sounds even more alien to my own except for some times when I'm really sick. “What's, ah . . . what's going on? Where am I?”

I peek my eyes open in time to notice Ocellus several feet to the left of me. At first she is sitting upright on a wooden chair and reading a book, but she soon set it aside, gets off the chair, then trots over to me. Once she arrives, she takes a deep sniff near my vicinity. At first I am confused and a bit creeped out until I see her smile and happily proclaim, “It is you, Sweetie Belle! Welcome back!” Her joy sinks to concern as she asks, “What is the last thing you remember?”

I frown as I answer, “The entity inside of me attacking Starlight. I tried to fight him and I think I succeeded for a few moments. After that, I conked out for some reason and woke up here.”

Ocellus looks surprised as she says, “You remember that much? Then you were conscious and aware while the other entity took over your body.”

“Actually, I think it's his body,” I correct. “I think I'm the invader here, albeit an unwilling one.”

“That's probably true,” Ocellus accepts in a somewhat spooked tone.

I wince again as the pain on the side of my right head pulses a bit.

“Careful,” Ocellus cautions. “Starlight bumped you on the noggin pretty hard in order to knock you unconscious. That probably saved her life. Maybe even yours.”

“Again, where am I?” I ask as I take another look around the room. Now that my eyes are adjusting to the gloom, I can see more details. Some of the things I see of note is a sign on the wall that is an equal sign but it is circled and crossed out. I also see several kinds of kites in the room, a desk with stacks of books, a mirror with lots of pictures on it.

I smile to myself as I realize where I am. All of these clues are actually pretty helpful.

“You're in Starlight's room,” Ocellus answers which is no longer necessary to say, unbeknownst to her.

“Yeah. I figured that out.”

“Starlight decided to take you here as you recover,” the changeling explains. “After all, she doesn't have to ask anypony else’s permission to loan you her own room.”

“Is Twilight . . .?” I ask with strong concern but I'm too nervous to even finish asking that question.

Ocellus applies a hoof softly to my hard chitin chest as she assures me, “Twilight will be just fine. Fortunately for her, the attack against her missed her heart. Also, Starlight teleported herself and Twilight off at Zecora's and just dumped Twilight off there without much of a word. She came back after you seconds after dumping off Twilight.

“But I have a more updated report since then. Zecora has tended to Twilight's most critical wounds. It is enough to stabilize her. With continued tender care, she'll make a full recovery at some unspecified time. Zecora thinks it will be less than a moon.”

I visibly relax quite a bit further but not completely since I still have other concerns. Because of that, I ask, “And what about Starlight herself? Her horn was still healing so I'm concerned she damaged it further. Plus there is what I did . . . or rather, what the entity inside me did to her.”

Ocellus sighs as she looks at the exit to the room and announces, “I can't say she's completely fine either physically or psychologically.” Ocellus looks back at me. “But the good news is it doesn't seem like any lasting harm is caused. Using her horn as soon as she did very likely delayed her full recovery some.” Ocellus shook her head. “But that was an emergency. If she hadn't done what she did, Twilight might have died and the evil changeling would have escaped with you.”

The moment Ocellus mentioned the mere possibility of Twilight dying, I immediately tear up. It's almost a reflex reaction to take one of the pillows beside me and squash it in front of my face. Doing so causes me to soak the pillow in tears.

“Sweetie Belle, she's fine!” Ocellus reassures me more firmly. “Both mares should make a full recovery eventually.”

“This whole situation is so messed up!” I moan into the pillow which greatly muffles my voice. “I don't want this! I don't want to hurt anypony!”

“You didn't! You're the victim here. No pony has forgotten that. Neither have I.”

I remove the pillow from my face so I can see Ocellus more clearly and so I can breathe more easily. I then ask her, “What's going on now? If I am in Starlight's room then where is she?”

“She's talking with your parents, the last I checked,” Ocellus answers. “Rarity, Trixie, and I think maybe even Sunburst are all discussing the situation together along with Starlight and your parents. It's quite likely Starlight is not telling your parents everything. After all, it is unnecessary to frighten them with all of the details. That said, both she and her staff will get everything all straightened out with your parents. Before the end of the day, I'm sure they will very clearly understand that you are Sweetie Belle.”

I widen my eyes as I ask, “Then-”

“However,” Ocellus interrupts, “Starlight wants you to continue to be supervised by someone fully appraised of all of the dangerous details. It's more than a little likely you'll continue to be staying at Rarity's when you make a more full recovery here. As for me, I am even more firmly assigned to watch over you because I'm one of few who can detect the shift in personality from you.” I notice her grow much more nervous as she says, “And I am at least decently capable of matching his capabilities since I can shapeshift as well. That puts me on potentially even hoofing.”

“But?” I probe since I sense her nervousness.

Ocellus opens her mouth but pauses when we both hear a knock on the door. We both look at it simultaneously. Ocellus also calls aloud, “Yes?”

“I'm coming in,” Starlight announces outside the door. Her voice is a bit muffled because of that, but she does open the door after that with her hoof. She pushes it inward using her face then enters the room. She looks at me then brightens with relief. “Oh good. You are awake.”

“How did you know before this?” Ocellus asks the older mare. “You're timing is almost too perfect. Sweetie Belle awoke only a few minutes ago.”

“I had a spell layered on the bed which served to alert me if she had awakened,” Starlight answers then gives a concerned look to Ocellus as she asks the younger changeling nervously, “This is Sweetie Belle . . . right?”

“As far as I can tell, yes,” Ocellus confirms. “Her pheromones smell just like Sweetie Belle.” She smiles fondly as she further reports, “Which is actually a very sweet scent, just like her namesake.”

“That's good to hear,” Starlight says with relief as she shuts the door to her room with a back kick of a hoof. After that, she looks at it and layers some kind of spell over the door.

“Ocellus has been telling me that you were speaking to and explaining the situation to my parents,” I bring up. “How did it go?”

Starlight looks at me with a half frown as she answers, “The two words I can think of that best describes their situation is 'grief' and 'regret'. They are mortified by what has happened to you and strongly regret yelling at you. We had to hold them back from charging into this room in their determination to apologize and see you, but I convinced them that you needed to be monitored for health reasons. Which is true . . . but there are other concerns in play as well.”

Starlight looks at Ocellus and says to the younger changeling, “Ocellus, you need to know that I not only locked the door to this room, but I also layered it with a spell which will ensure we have audible privacy in this room. I did that because I have a strong hunch you have some idea what's going on here. You've been squirming in discomfort for a while now. Please share with me what you know. Anything might help.”

True to Starlight's word, I see Ocellus squirm in discomfort the moment this subject arose.

“Please, Ocellus. I have to know what's going on,” Starlight begs.

“Did you write a letter to King Thorax like I asked you to?” Ocellus checks.

“Yes,” Starlight assures. “He should be getting it any moment now. Spike must have sent it by dragon fire by now.”

Ocellus rubs the side of her head with a hoof as she says, “Good, because, by now, we definitely know there is a rogue changeling ahoof. And, unfortunately, it is sharing a body with Sweetie Belle even as we speak.” She shakes her head nervously. “Sweetie is in charge for now but there's no telling when that might change.” She looks at Starlight squarely as she adds, “And Starlight . . . I'm very afraid that, if he does wake up, I'd have no more luck stopping him than I could stop an avalanche.”

“Why?” Starlight asks the changeling. “You seem to know something about him. Something that makes you very afraid of him.”

Ocellus cringes as she says, “It's just a hunch, but everything I saw about him earlier and what I've heard since matches a rumor of a certain legend we changelings used to tell each other.”

When Ocellus pauses, Starlight bids, “Go on,” with a circular wave of a hoof.

Ocellus sighs, then says, “Mind you . . . it's just a legend. None of the hive ever knew if it was true.”

“Legend of what?” Starlight prompts.

Again Ocellus hesitates before saying, “Forgive me for being so reluctant to cover this subject, Starlight, but I've been heavily conditioned into this. What I'm about to tell you . . . both of you, actually . . . is no official secret of the hive per se. Rather it's a more unofficial secret stemming back from the olden days when Queen Chrysalis used to rule the hive.

“You see, there was a legend among the hive of an elite group of changelings. According to the legend, they had the best training in every regard. They were also raised separately from the rest of the hive so they'd have no social ties to the rest of us.” Ocellus waves a hoof. “Absolutely nothing was supposed to compromise their mission objectives. They were our most elite changelings. The best shapeshifters, the best infiltrators, the best impersonators. According to rumor, they could mimic someone so perfectly that even their closest friends and relatives couldn't tell the difference.”

“That seems far-fetched,” Starlight says skeptically.

“There's more,” Ocellus continues. “According to those rumors, this elite group of changelings could master their shapeshifting powers to extremes that not even Queen Chrysalis could match. Examples of that are morphing individual body parts to become anything and they do it instantly without the tell-tale magical flash that gives away the use of our changeling magic. Furthermore, it is said that they could even mimic supernatural powers of other races such as the stoning stare of a cockatrice.”

This new announcement alarms Starlight. She widens her eyes and no longer seems skeptical.

“But it is unusual for a member of that organization to be that blatant, if they exist at all,” Ocellus goes on to say. “They are supposed to be absolutely perfect spies. Spies who are so good at their job that they leave no trace of their existence. Every single trace of their existence is painstakingly eliminated . . . at least according to rumor. Any evidence, no matter how slight, is destroyed without mercy. Because of that, it was uncertain, even among us changelings, if they even existed at all.

“Many at the hive really didn't believe in them. They said no changeling can possibly be that perfect. Some thought the rumor was just a scare tactic that our great mother must have spread to both inspire and cow us. This organization, if it existed, was supposed to be absolutely loyal to the queen. They were her ultimate enforcers. The ones who silence any sign of rebellion against her in the hive. They were the secret police force that could be hiding behind any face, any object, any corner or shadow, and they seemed to have ears and eyes everywhere! To even whisper their name was a punishable offense.

“And that, in turn, is why I'm reluctant to speak of them now. Even now I feel that same kind of terror that once plagued me when I was a grub. The mythical and all-too-perfect sect of changelings who somehow always found out if rumors about them were growing too blatant. To this day, the one and only piece of evidence we regular changelings have ever gathered that confirms their existence is unfortunate accidents keep on happening to any changeling that dares to say their name!” Ocellus gives a dismissive wave as she adds, “When that happened one or two times, we dismissed that as a coincidence . . . but it kept on happening! Every single time a grub would dare another grub to say their name aloud, they always suffered an unfortunate accident without fail! By that, I mean absolutely one-hundred percent of the time! Their track record was too perfect on this account to dismiss the possibility of their existence.”

We stare at each other in a spooked moment of silence, broken first by Starlight as she asks, “I suppose, for that very reason, you're unwilling to say the name of their organization now?”

Ocellus shakes her head as she confirms, “I'm sorry, Starlight, but I am not that brave. Even now I'm still too afraid to speak their name out loud.”

“Then mimic the name of their organization with charade,” Starlight suggests. “Is there some form you can take that might mimic the name of their organization? If we say it out loud and you don't, will that be fine?”

Ocellus cringes as she still looks reluctant to cooperate with that request but I also see a flash of respect in her eyes towards Starlight as if she thought that was a clever suggestion.

Then Ocellus gives it some further thought before nodding to herself and transforming into what I can best describe as a foalish image of a ghost costume insofar as it looks like herself but with a bedsheet over her and three holes carved out for her eyes and mouth.

“Costume?” I ask. Ocellus shakes her head. “Bedsheet?” I guess again which provokes the same response. “Nightmare Night?” Another no.

“Ghost?” Starlight guesses. Ocellus looks at Starlight then firmly nods yes before morphing the costume away.

“That, however, is the singular term,” Ocellus elaborates. “If you are referring to a specific agent of their organization then use that term. If, however, you are using it in a plural sense by referring to the entire organization then use the plural version of that word.”

“Ghosts?” Starlight figures. “The name of their organization is Ghosts?”

Ocellus cringes visibly each time Starlight says that name but she also nods yes.

“They are phantoms and specters,” Ocellus confirms. “That which should not exist but always successfully punishes others for mentioning their name. An organization of changelings too perfect to be believable and yet . . .”

“And yet what we saw this changeling do yesterday demands an explanation,” Starlight concludes as she looks over at me. “It's frightening to think a changeling that good was hiding under our very muzzles, but it's perfectly understandable how they eluded our attention for this long if they really are that good.”

Starlight puts a hoof to her chin as she gives a thoughtful look before lowering her hoof to the ground and saying, “I'm willing to believe that they do exist and that they are an especially well-trained group of changelings, but perfect?” She shakes her head. “No, but I can see the incentive why they'd spread that rumor, or even if Queen Chrysalis supported that rumor. I see every motivation in her favor for wanting her army to believe she had this secret and invincible group of enforcers that would always punish the wayward changelings who dares to even consider crossing her. She rules through fear and intimidation so it's perfectly in character to believe she'd support and exaggerate this rumor.”

“I don't think he's invincible,” I say aloud, “but he might be less mortal than you suspect. One time Ocellus managed to score a good hit on him with a claw attack.” I look at Ocellus as I ask her, “Do you remember that?”

Ocellus nods with a guilty expression on her face. “I do,” she confirms. “And I'm so sorry that I hurt you.”

My expression softens as I tell her, “Oh, that's alright. I forgive you because I know you were just trying to stop him. After what he did to Twilight, I wanted him to be stopped, even if it means hurting me.” I wave them off with a hoof. “But my point is, after he knocked you unconscious, he actually morphed the wound away.”

Starlight looks surprised for a moment, but thoughtful in the next moment before saying, “Technically, I suppose any changeling could do that. They morph themselves all the time. All they'd have to do is change their shape to that of an unwounded state.”

Ocellus hisses through her teeth before saying, “Yeah, but that is very, very hard because we're wounded first, right? We have to fight through that haze of pain in order to concentrate enough on the next shape we wish to shift in. Under those circumstances, it's very hard. The greater the pain, the harder it is for us to concentrate.”

“And you managed to knock him out,” I point out to Starlight. “So, apparently, there are limits to that ability even for a potentially elite changeling. They have to concentrate to morph the wound away. If they get knocked out first then that disables their ability to concentrate.”

Starlight nods at me as she says, “Right. That makes perfect sense. I'm sure a changeling would have to visualize the form they wish to take before they can morph, even if it's the same form they already have except in a perfectly sound state.” She points to her horn before saying, “It's just like what I have to do with my magic before I cast a spell.”

“That's correct,” Ocellus agrees as she looks at me. “For you to change your shape, you also have to visualize the shape you wish to take. You have to visualize the color, weight, smell, sound, texture, clothing. Everything.” She taps her head three times before saying, “That's tricky at first to visualize and hold all of those details in one's mind and to do that as a perfectly 3-D image. Every angle all around the new form has to be visualized in your mind simultaneously. It does get easier eventually but it takes lots of practice at first. That's why most changelings experiment with forms with more simple shapes and colors first. It's easier to visualize like that. For example . . .” Ocellus morphs into a mirror-like spherical ball about the size of a bowling ball for a second before morphing back. “See? Attempting to simulate simple shapes and colors gets your muscles used to the process. As you grow more accustomed to that, you can later take on more complex shapes.”

“Uh . . . is it hard to breathe as an inanimate object?” I ask with worry. “The shape you just took didn't have a mouth or a nose. It didn't have ears or eyes either so does that also mean you were deaf and blind during that moment?”

“Yes,” Ocellus answers me, “but one gets used to it. There are other ways to sense one's environment and sometimes you can sneak eyes or ears onto the object.

“As for breathing, no. I couldn't breathe, but nor did I need to. I had no heart, lungs, blood vessels, and whatnot during that moment. I could have remained in that form indefinitely.”

“Would your aging cease too?” I ask curiously.

“Um . . . no. I think we still age,” Ocellus says but with some degree of uncertainty. “Our changeling magic continues to age even if the form we take does not. We can hold a new form for a pretty long time but we can't truly do it forever.”

“Be that as it may, we still have to decide what to do about our little guest inside Sweetie Belle,” Starlight says aloud. “He was extremely dangerous. I noted how he was quite proficient with magic too. That doesn't seem like a common trait for changelings but this one had no trouble with his magic. I'm even convinced he's capable of advanced spells. No ordinary spellcaster could disable Twilight's magical lock that easily.”

“Best of the best,” Ocellus reminds Starlight. “We're all capable of using our horns technically but most of our race doesn't know how. But if indeed a secret group of elite changelings exists out there, you can bet they were pushed to the absolute limit of our mortal potential.”

Starlight sighs, then admits, “Try as I might, I can't easily come up with a strategy to safely contain a being that good. Not without resorting to some options that I'm unwilling to subject Sweetie Belle to. Say what you will about changeling hibernating slime cocoons, but I sure wish we had access to something like that right now.” She looks at Ocellus hopefully. “I don't suppose you could-”

“Please don't ask me that,” Ocellus requests with a pained squint. “First of all, I hardly had any practice doing that. Secondly, I don't have the heart to do that to Sweetie Belle. She has suffered enough as it is.”

Starlight nods sadly as she looks down then admits, “I know what you mean.” She sighs, then looks back and forth between us as she says, “Then I guess it's back to square one. We'll just have to closely monitor Sweetie Belle for any signs of trouble.” She looks at Ocellus squarely as she tells the young changeling, “I'll leave that to you for now.”

“By the way, I have to ask you, Starlight, how did you find me?” I wonder aloud. “I remember how you tracked me down somehow. The entity within me was confused about that, too.”

Starlight widens her eyes at me as she asks, “You sensed his thoughts at that time?”

I nod.

“Ooo, that is a vital detail!” Starlight exclaims. “Okay. I want you to write me a detailed essay on everything you caught him thinking about at that time. Any insight you can offer may offer us a critical clue about him later.

“Can you hoofle that, Sweetie Belle?”

“Sure! No problem,” I accept.

Starlight waves a hoof at me dismissively as she says, “As for how I found you, I'll leave that one a mystery just in case any information I share with you has a chance to leak to him.”

“Uhhhhh . . .” I pause as I think about that before nodding. “Yeah. That's probably a good idea.”

Author's Note

Another short chapter, but also important. This one puts an emphasis on Ocellus's knowledge about the organization the culprit might have come from which thereby explains how he was as good as they observed him to be. If all of this is true, it applies more weight to the threat they face, but it's also a possible lead to further answers down the road.

Chapter 20: Enemy of My Enemy

Whew! That was a long day, but it was worth it! I sure do love helping ponies. I sure do love being a Crusader, and I love, love, love doing this kind of work with my dear and cherished friends.

That said, there's just something about the end to a day like this where all the trials and tribulations just sink in and I just have to shake my head and say to myself, “I can't believe I did all that!”

I have no regrets. Absolutely none. But, at the end of the day, the fatigue just sets in and I realize I'm looking forward to rest and relaxation. I'm not as obsessed as my older sister about the Ponyville Spa but days like this sure make me tempted.

Mamma said there'll be days like this.

I'm so grateful to Scootaloo for giving me a ride home like this in her wagon. Apple Bloom simply made her own way home and our clubhouse is closer to her home anyway.

Feeling exhausted, I lean my head back over the rail of the small red wagon I'm being pulled in. For a few seconds, I just sink into a lull while absently listening to the buzzing sound of Scootaloo's wing flaps. Then I open my eyes and behold the curious sight of gazing at Ponyville, a town I know so well like the back of my hoof, except I'm viewing the town from a strange angle. In this case, I am looking at it upside down.

I grin in amusement as I watch everything pass me by from that perspective. The ground is the sky and the sky is the ground. It feels like I might “fall” towards the sky if I don't cling to something real quick, but no pony else looks concerned. They just trot about casually and even happily. Even the earth ponies. They, too, express no concern that they are trotting upside down and might fall into the sky.

Sometimes my sister tells me that I also have the “gift”. That I, too, have the mind and heart of an artist. Rarity does everything she can to encourage that potential unless she's too busy with a job. That happens more often than I care for but it's understandable. My heart glows with pride when I gaze upon her looking upon me in an admiring way as if she's beholding a peer. A fellow artist.

“It really is a different world for us ar-teests, Sweetie Belle,” Rarity once told me. “Because we view the whole world from strange and different angles. Many ponies will not understand you because they can't see the world the way we do. They might look more at form and function rather than the sheer beauty of pure aesthetics, but we have a gift that is very important to offer too. Pinkie Pie's parties can cheer up anywhere between one pony to an entire herd. Conversely, good art, if well displayed, can inspire entire successive generations ongoing.

“But some will understand you, Sweetie Belle. We have a rare gift but it is not unique. Those who don't have our gifts can't understand us, but those who do have the gift have a hard time explaining it to others. After all, art is a very subjective subject, just like the eye of the beholder.”

I smile as I recall that memory. The way my sister phrased it made me feel valuable and special. I seem to do okay at arts and crafts. Some things I am better at than others. For instance, I am heavily into music and singing, but I suppose it is my “artist eye” that has been the most important aspect of my life. It reminds me of something Chip Cutter once said to my friends and I.

“I can't help it. When I look at my sandwich, it's like it's just asking me to turn it into a dragon," Chip admitted to us.

It's taken me a while to realize the talent we Crusaders have isn't unlike Chip Cutter's gift. We see the potential of other ponies and we do what it takes to help them shine! It's such a beautiful thing to behold. It's like polishing a precious gem.

“And we're here,” Scootaloo announces as she stops and pulls off her helmet. She then looks at me over her shoulder.

“What?! Already?” I ask as I sit up straight.

“Yeah. I've been riding here this whole time. Weren't you paying attention?”

“I guess I wasn't,” I reply with a confused blink. “I guess I just spaced out there for a while.”

“After the day we have been having, I suppose I can't blame you,” Scootaloo agrees with a roll of her eyes. “But, anyway, we're here.” She gestures to my home. “Tah-dah!”

“Yeah. Here we are,” I agree as I hop out of the wagon then look back at my friend. “Do you want to come in, Scootaloo? Take a load off for a little while?”

“Nah. I got to get back,” Scootaloo announces as she straps on her helmet again. “I got a few more things I need to do.” She looks back at me and waves goodbye. “I'll see you tomorrow, Sweetie Belle. Take care.”

“Yeah. You too,” I say a little forlornly but I try to hide it behind a brave smile. For some reason, I feel a little uncomfortable watching my friend go right now.

“See yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!” Scootaloo bids as she takes off and quickly zooms out in the distance.

I sigh as I look back to my home. I ask myself what I have to worry about? After all, this is my home and I'm looking forward to relaxing after a hard day's work.

I trot up to the front entrance of my home and use my light green magic to open the door. Once I am inside, I call out, “Hellooooo! I'm hoooooome!”

There is no answer. The house is very quiet. Maybe even a little too quiet.

“Hello?” I start trotting around in the empty house. “Mom? Dad? Is anypony home?”

“Sweeeeeeeetie Beeeeeeeeeelle!” I hear a sinister whisper from somewhere upstairs.

I freeze in an instant. My joints stiffen. All of a sudden it feels like all the warmth of this house vanished. It was already a little eerie seeing it empty and it being so quiet, but the voice I heard a moment ago feels like something sinister has replaced the typically welcome atmosphere I normally sense in this house.

“Heh . . . hello?” I ask in a spooked voice. “Who is there? Show yourself!”

My only response is to hear a slow creaking from the roof above me. It's as if some intruder is slowly applying his or her weight to the floor.

I need an adult!

For a moment I look at the front entrance and exit of my home. I am tempted to bolt out of the house right then and there. I don't care how tired I am anymore. My every instinct is now insisting that I am in terrible danger.

“Sweeeeeeeetie Beeeeeeeeeelle!” the sinister voice repeats from upstairs except it sounds raspier on the second word. “Come. Come hither, my little pony!!”

I gulp and look at the ceiling nervously. A moment later I narrow my eyes a bit as I attempt to harden my resolve.

I'm a big pony now! I can hoofle some things! Time for me to show this monster who is boss.

I trot up the stairs. When I reach the second floor, I pause as I notice creaking emanate in this area once again. I also see the window open across this hallway. The curtains gently flap in the breeze.

I gulp again nervously then continue my way down the hallway. As I do so, I notice that there is only one door open in this hallway. The door that leads to my room.

I use my muzzle to gently nudge the door open. I peek inside rather than enter at first. Doing so reveals to me my room does appear empty, but it also appears disheveled as if somepony was searching through my room and all my stuff.

Have courage, Sweetie Belle. I can do this! I'm a big pony now!

Using my face, I push my door the rest of the way open and step inside. I cautiously examine every detail in my room for the possible intruder.

“Sweetie Belle, over here,” the voice says louder this time because it's closer. I look. When I do, my eyes grow wide as I see the image of a black changeling through the reflection of my vanity mirror.

Is that me?

The image of the changeling approaches as I approach it which only adds to the confusion. Then I tilt my head to the side and notice that, this time, the image does not follow my movements. Instead, he simply narrows his eyes.

“My, my, my. We finally meet,” he says with a sinister hiss. “Welcome. The last time we spoke while Starlight put you under hypnosis, you offered for us to be friends. Tell me, my little pony, is the offer still open?”

“Offer?” I wonder aloud.

I think back to when I last encountered this entity. Doing so causes me to realize that it was when I was put under hypnosis by Starlight Glimmer, just like he said.

And I had a changeling body back then!

I look at my right foreleg right now and notice, to my relief, it is the same white stubby leg as it should be.

“You're asleep, my stupid little pony,” the changeling in the mirror growls in disgust.

A dream?

Oh, that's right! I must be dreaming. I also had other nightmares about this changeling too, but this is the first time we encountered each other directly.

“Why do you ask?” I ask as I look back at the monster in the mirror. “Are you interested in my friendship now?”

He hisses at me in disgust and says in the same tone, “Hardly! Make no mistake, you pathetic little equine! I haven't come to you to make friends! I haven't come to sing 'kum ba yah' or whatever insipid little song you have in that tiny little mind of yours.” He straightens with dignity. “Instead, I have come to make an alliance with you because it has become strategically necessary to do so at this time.”

“It has?” I ask as I narrow one eye at him. “Why? What's changed? You rejected my offer the last time.”

He looks down with a hateful growl, then peers up at me above his head as he says, “For almost a year now I have attempted to cow you into submission. That was the point of all those nightmares before. And, for the longest time, I thought I had succeeded. While I couldn't regain control of my body until Starlight provided me with a choice opportunity, I knew my time would eventually come and I needed your will squashed so it would remain out of my way.

“But, when my time finally came, you stopped me from killing Starlight. You caused me to hesitate and that cost me my victory. I thought I had squashed your will but you fought me hard enough at that moment which gave Starlight the opening she needed.”

He shrugs before going on to say, “In battle, that's all it takes. One moment of weakness . . . just one tiny little error then everything falls apart.” He slams his forehooves on the counter that supports the mirror except he only does it on his side of the reflection. Despite that, my whole dresser on my side of the reflection rattles too as if an invisible ghost had struck it.

“I HATE imperfections like that!” the changeling growls hatefully. “Tiny details like that can unravel everything. The worst part of it is the fact you can do it again. No matter what I do or how well I try to prepare myself, now I have to take into account that you could mess up everything in one moment of weakness.”

He looks down and sighs, then looks back up at me with a softer expression as he says, “So I have since reevaluated the status of our relationship together and I've come to the conclusion that an alliance would be strategically more beneficial to the both of us this time. That is why I've approached you in my true form. No tricks. No gimmicks. Just the naked truth.” He narrows his eyes at me as he growls hatefully before saying, “Be grateful, my little equine, for I absolutely despise presenting myself in my true form. The only reason I'm doing it now is to use this strategy as a bargain chip to win your trust and support in my moment of need.”

“Why should I cooperate with you?!” I snap. “You hurt Princess Twilight, my friend! I will NEVER forgive you for that one!”

“Hurt, yes,” he agrees. “Kill, no. Believe me, little filly, if I wanted her dead . . . she'd be dead.”

“You could have fooled me!” I snap again with an even more aggressive posture.

“I did fool you,” he counters which takes me aback. “That was the true point of the attack. It was a ruse to sidetrack my enemies. Trust me, with the extensive training I have, I could have easily pierced right through her heart but I missed it on purpose because it was strategically sound at the time.”

“Huh?” I ask as I shift my head back a bit.

“Think about it. Princess Twilight Sparkle is more valuable to me alive,” the changeling expresses. “Because, for as long as she lives and the rest of Equestria knows that, I could replace her or manipulate her. But, if I kill her instead, it's an opportunity wasted. Even as chattel, she's too valuable to me for that. Too much love and affection are sent her way. Feasting on her would be like feasting on a whale.” He stands up straighter. “I only did what I did to force my enemies into making a certain choice they couldn't refuse. While I did not kill her outright, I did injure her severely enough that it would leave my other enemies in the room no choice but to prioritize saving her instead of chasing me down. That, in turn, would buy me time to escape.”

“So you only pierced Twilight right through her body and left her bleeding on the floor merely to serve as a distraction?” I ask in horror.

“Yes,” the changeling answers bluntly, “and it worked, but not as well as I hoped. Starlight took care of the situation faster than I had anticipated. Even with that, I figured I could get enough of a lead so she couldn't find me later, especially considering my shapeshifting ability would help me blend in. Somehow, however, she tracked me down anyway. That's when I decided a more permanent solution was required because that was a resource I knew that particular adversary would always have. Worse, she might teach it to other gifted unicorns if she hasn't already. I had to take her out of the equation once and for all.” He waves a hoof. “Twilight I chose to spare because of her strategic value down the road, but Starlight?” He shakes his head. “No. That one I actually was going to kill if you hadn't stopped me.”

“How is telling me this supposed to convince me that we can be allies now?” I ask with disgust and horror. “You just told me that you made a serious attempt against the life of one of my dear friends!”

The changeling turns his head and gazes at me with his right eye only as he says, “The fact that I'm now admitting all of this to you openly should already intrigue you. You may not like me personally and I accept that. I am even glad for that because the thought of making friends with any pathetic creature makes my hide crawl.” He faces me fully. “But that said, you cannot deny that you need to know more. You need to know why I changed my mind all of a sudden. And, considering the growing danger we're both involved in, I now have the incentive to come clean with you.”

“Danger?” I ask while feeling both perplexed and concerned.

“Did it ever occur to you to ask yourself why I was trying to flee and where I was going?” he asks me. “Your friends are not the only ones I'm trying to elude. There is another enemy that lurks in the shadows all around us. A far more powerful and dangerous enemy.” He cuts a hoof across him at chest level. “And it's not just his abilities or training that makes him dangerous but his willingness to do whatever it takes to win. That is why he is more dangerous, and you know what they say: The enemy of my enemy is . . . well,” he grins. “Allies at least, but I wouldn't dare to call us friends. An alliance of convenience is enough to cause me to act.”

“What enemy?” I ask in a spooked tone.

He sighs, then says, “Believe it or not, I am a victim too in this affair. You think I would prefer to be stuck with the mind of a little filly taking over my body? Of course not! But there is another who orchestrated that result exactly, and he is the one you should really fear.”

“What enemy?” I repeat more desperately.

The changeling on the other side of the mirror lifts a hoof as he says, “Before I get to that, you have to promise me that you'll keep this a secret between us. To do otherwise will endanger us both. I'll explain why in a moment so you'll understand why this is the right course of action if you agree.”

I gaze at him suspiciously as I say, “I don't like to promise anything before knowing what I'm getting into.”

“Hmm.” He gives me a contemplative look before saying, “Okay, fair enough, but let me ask you this; little filly, do you wish to die a terrible and painful death?”

“Is that a threat?!” I challenge him.

“No. It is a question. I know it might be difficult for your tiny little mind to keep up, but try to pay attention. Now answer the question! Do you wish to die a terrible and painful death?”

“Who would?” I reflect. “Just so that we're perfectly clear, the answer is no.”

“Alright. Fair enough,” the changeling accepts. “Now same question except it applies to your friends and family. Would you like to see them die a terrible and painful death?”

“No,” I answer simply.

“How about enslavement?” he checks. “Would you prefer that instead?”

“No,” I answer curtly.

“In that case, you already have all the incentive you require to cooperate with me,” the changeling declares as he spreads his forehooves apart and bows to me a bit. “For the true enemy that dogs us does have that fate in mind.” He narrows his eyes at me in smug victory as he asks me, “Do I have your attention and cooperation now?”

“Let's say for the moment you do,” I answer. “What of it?”

He lifts a hoof and insists, “Swear to me that you'll keep this between us first or we'll all suffer the fate I described. Breaking this promise will also accelerate that fate.”

I growl before saying, “Fine! I promise! Now tell me who our true enemy is!”

The changeling slowly lowers his hoof as he examines me for signs of subterfuge. After a moment he sighs a bit as if he did detect some signs that I might not keep my word.

“I just hope, for all our sakes, I can get through to you enough to convince you why cooperating with me is to our mutual benefit.” He pauses for a moment before saying, “Okay. Here it is. The answer you've been waiting for. The true culprit and enemy we're fighting against is . . .” he pauses for a moment for dramatic effect before gesturing to himself, “. . . me.” He shrugs. “Or, rather to say, the true me.”

“Huh?” I ask with a tilt of my head.

“I'm a Mirror Pool clone,” the changeling declares. That revelation does indeed shock me. “And I'm not the only one.” He looks off to his side. “As Ocellus told you earlier, I used to be part of a larger organization formerly known as 'Ghosts'.” He looks back at me. “We were the changeling queen’s top spies and assassins. We were capable of most of what the rumors about us say except we are not that perfect, we aren't as loyal to Queen Chrysalis as the rumors say we are, or at least I am not, and . . .” He pauses for a moment as he chuckles before further declaring, “. . . there was only ten of us in our organization.” He grows a very evil smirk. “Can you imagine it? Just a group of ten elite changelings was enough to inspire terror and control in the rest of the hive.” He narrows his eyes in anger. “That is, until the rest of the hive decided to have the world’s biggest explosive therapy session. Ever since then, the other Ghosts have split up and gone into hiding.” He shakes his head. “Currently I don't know where they are.”

On the other side of the mirror, he looks straight up as he takes a deep intake of breath, holds it, then slowly exhales as he looks back at me.

“Try to imagine that, little filly. We used to be one of the fiercest armies on the planet. We inspired fear and fed on love. We were a tight unit, but now most of the hive has changed into pansy losers and I've lost track of the rest of the Ghosts. We do our job way too well. Without Chrysalis and her army holding us together, we've scattered on the winds.

“So, here my original was, all by himself with very few options. He no longer had the other Ghosts to back him up, his queen got lost then stoned, and the rest of the hive is now the enemy, so what does he do?” He shrugs. “Why he makes a new army of course.”

“An army of Mirror Pool clones?” I ask in horror. “An army of himself?”

“An army of elite trained changelings, my dear,” the monster in the mirror elaborates. “We can assume any form and we do it especially well. We could replace the population of an entire town and the rest of the world would be none the wiser.”

“Then what do I have to do with all of this?” I ask. “And why are you telling me this now? Why are you against yourself?”

He sighs in annoyance as he looks down for a moment, then looks back at me with a halting gesture as he says, “The answer to your first question is . . . well, actually, Starlight was right. You were a convenient target to ponynap at the time. That's it. That's your only strategic value. Well, that and the fact it was believed you'd be easier to control. A filly we considered weaker and more impressionable. That, in turn, meant we thought we could mold you better later. That is important for the early phases of our new experiment.

“I'd like to point out that the exact timing of your ponynapping was during the crisis before Twilight's coronation. Do you remember when the three tribes of ponies were against each other all of a sudden?”

“Yeah,” I recall with sad regret.

He shakes his head as he says, “Before you ask, no. I wasn't part of that ploy, but I can no longer speak for my brethren.

“However, what I did do, or rather to say my original self did, was ponynap you during a moment of high confusion and distraction.” He shakes his head while wearing a gleeful expression. “It was a golden opportunity my original was only too happy to avail himself of. You were missing for a few days and no pony suspected that a changeling ponynapped you. Instead, your kind erroneously blamed that missing case on either the pegasi or the earth ponies. Actually, any pony other than themselves, but really,” he waves me off, “of all of pony kind, your kind truly are the greatest elitist pricks. I actually kind of admire you for that.

“But I digress.

“You were ponynapped in order to test a new experiment my original was working on. An experiment to see if he could remain in control as he made a Mirror Pool clone of himself but push your mind into it. During that time, he still had access to your original body and my mind that used to be stuck in it but still had a distant link with my body. The idea was to use your mind as the perfect cover. You unwittingly used my changeling magic to morph into your own form but, since you were unaware you were a changeling by then, you didn't use those powers to morph into anything else.

“Meanwhile, my mind was stuck in your pathetic body until recently. There I remained until Button Mash's consciousness pushed me out. When that happened, my consciousness more fully merged in this body but I still annoyingly could not control my body. You continued to remain firmly in the driver's seat.”

“Why all this subterfuge?” I ask.

“We, or rather to say my original self, experimented on you so that he could duplicate this experiment safely on higher priority targets,” he answers. “That is the scheme he was working up to as long as one critical detail was in place. He would hide their original bodies in his lair while their minds are hidden within changeling bodies, but they don't know it. Meanwhile the clone's minds remained within their original body which still has a link to the cloned changeling. Through that, my original self can usurp control of us at any time or at least subconsciously manipulate the victim from a distance. All he'd have to do is whisper a suggestion into the ear of their true bodies and the victim's mind would think they came up with a brilliant idea all on their own. If that is not enough, he could assume direct control.”

“If all of this is true, why are you helping me?”

He presses both of his hooves on the dresser and presses down on it hard as he glares at me while answering, “Because I despise higher authority!” He leans back and relaxes a bit as he goes on to say, “My original self does too. He hated being under the hoof of Queen Chrysalis. He still obeyed her, but he secretly despised her. Knowing that trait is and was within himself, he also knew that his own clones would feel that way about him, so he devised an elaborate strategy to surgically implant himself through other victims while holding tight to the reins himself.”

“Then you hate yourself,” I realize. “As in, you hate your original self.”

“Bingo,” he confirms. “Now you're catching on. Despite being somewhat aware of his plans and why he is doing this, I still despise being under anyone's hoof and he knows that.” He boldly points out the reflection of my window in the mirror while still focusing on me. “He understands that I'm an unwilling victim because he knows he'd feel that way himself if our situation were reversed, yet he continues forward with the plan anyway in order to accomplish his ultimate objective.”

“Which is?” I probe with a nervous squint to my face.

“I understand you might consider this hypocritical after saying I don't like to be ruled by authority, but he wants to be the ruler of everything. So much the better to ensure he is never ruled again himself. He'd be willing to enslave the entire planet if he has to just to make sure there is no chance of him being bossed around again. Plus,” he lifts a hoof, “do you remember what Ocellus said about the fact that our race is in danger of extinction because Queen Chrysalis is the only known changeling capable of creating more eggs to hatch our kind?”

“Yes,” I confirm with a nod. “I remember.”

“Well my original self is very concerned about that fact as well,” he tells me. “Frankly, so am I. We're still agreeing on that point.

“Anyway, his plan is to free Queen Chrysalis, if he hasn't already, but not to put her in charge again. Instead of that, he plans to lobotomize her in order to use her as a brainless and emotionless baby factory. He plans to automate her like a machine as much as possible so that the future of our race will be secure without the hassles we suffered in the past.”

“Geeze!” I exclaim in shock. “That is so dark!”

He shrugs as he proclaims, “I've been conditioned to not care for the fate of others a long time ago. So extreme is that conditioning that I wouldn't even care about the feelings of my own clones if I was in his place. The problem with that plan is I am in my place right now so I'm compelled to rebel.”

“But why is all this necessary?” I ask with a shake of my head. “You guys discovered and are utilizing the Mirror Pool. With it, you can make as many changelings as you want! I heard even Pinkie Pie's clones could use the Pool themselves, so nothing is stopping you from doing the same thing.”

“Think about it for a second,” the changeling encourages as he leans forward for a second then points out the window again while still keeping his eyes locked on me. “Every single one of those clones is the exact same age. Now they could disguise themselves as any age from that point. They could disguise themselves as a yearling like the Cake twins or seem as old as Granny Smith.” He shakes his head. “But none of that would change how old we truly are. We can simulate other ages but we still die when our time has come. Only Chrysalis knows how to avoid that fate and I think it's because she's the original changeling. That's also why she is the only fertile changeling. Queen Chrysalis can literally morph fertilized eggs within her own body at will. She can also morph herself into a younger state and that actually sticks, although she also must do it on occasion or else even she would actually age to death just like the rest of us.

“Now, I figure she either wanted to make lesser copies of herself so that she would remain in charge or she truly can't make an equal like herself even if she wanted to.” He shakes his head. “Either way, she's made peace with that fact a long time ago and happily ruled over all of us while it lasted.

“But, as for my original's Mirror Pool clones, nothing can stop us from aging to death. The moment the first of us dies of old age, the rest of us will soon be behind because we're all that old. So,” he shrugs, “while the Mirror Pool strategy is useful for making an instant and highly trained army, it isn't useful as a long-term solution for the survival of our race. For that, we need another solution, and for that, he needs an army to either bully or scheme his way to victory. Either strategy could work but his upbringing encourages subtlety, for unaware enemies won't even attempt to rebel because they don't realize they are in danger in the first place.” He shrugs before adding, “At least, not until it's too late.”

He shakes his head before he goes on to say, “And all he cares about is victory, not fair play or honor. After all, it is the victors who write the story and he plans to be the last one standing.”

“But why would you want to tell me this secret?” I ask. “I'm just a little filly! What can I do?”

He sighs before telling me, “The reason I'm telling you all of this is because you remain in control of my body. I have to work through you to accomplish anything in the waking world. Since our situation is quickly growing more urgent as well, I need to secure your cooperation sooner rather than later.

“I'll admit that my original plan was to cow you into submission and resume control of my original body upon my first available opportunity, but for multiple reasons, that's already proven to be a bust.” He shakes his head. “I can't afford the risks of attempting again to accumulate. It took me almost a year to get my first window of opportunity anyway. That's too rare to expect another chance anytime soon. I don't think we have that kind of time anymore anyway.

“As for why you need to keep this a secret between us, the answer is there is no telling how many of your friends and family have already been replaced. Any secret you tell them might leak back to our true enemy. Furthermore, the more you blab your mouth like that, the more he'll grow suspicious of how you came about this information. For the moment he has every reason to believe that I'm dead ever since Button Mash took over your body instead of me which is definitely not part of his master plan. He has no way of knowing for sure that I got squeezed here instead unless you get stupid and blab this secret to the wrong pony. Even if you tell one who didn't get replaced, it's only a matter of time before that information falls in the hooves of the enemy.”

I frown as I ask, “But again, what can I do? I'm just one little filly!”

“A filly who has a secret ally who just happens to be one of the most elite trained changelings,” he announces emphatically, “and our true enemy doesn't know that.” He lifts a hoof. “Secrecy will be key to victory. We must maintain the element of surprise until the right moment.”

“And then?” I check.

“I'm still working on that,” he admits, “but I know it has something to do with finding his new lair and freeing all of the captured victims there. I know you'd approve of that part of the plan too for personal reasons, but this just happens to be a strategic move as well. If those victims get freed then he has no control over them. It would be the minds of my fellow Mirror Pool clones controlling their bodies but they have no incentive to cooperate with him once they are free. Like me, they also long for freedom.”

“Okay.” I nod in acceptance. “Hypothetically, say we already accomplished that part of the plan.”

He nods as he says, “Okay. Noted.”

“How do we switch back to our proper bodies after that?” I ask in concern.

“One step at a time please,” he requests. “He did it in the first place so there must be a way to undo it. In the meantime, we need to neutralize our greatest threat first. If we don't do that, the rest won't matter.”

“But then we're stuck with an army of evil clones in the minds of my fellow pony friends!” I complain, then quickly add, “No offense, but why would they be any more helpful than your original self?”

“Because they'd be tired of being the victims, just like I am, and we'd hold all the leverage at that point. Think about it! They are stuck in bodies that can't shapeshift. They'd be more than willing to switch back into their original selves. They'll be anything but uncooperative until then.”

“Okay.” I nod in acceptance. “But, after that, we're now stuck with an army of evil changeling clones. Is that any better? If even one evil changeling, like your original, could do all this damage . . . doesn't an army of you multiply our problem exponentially? It seems to me we're trading one big problem for a much bigger one.”

“There is room for negotiation by that point,” he reasons. “We may have all started from the same source point, but each clone went through different experiences since then. Those experiences may provide you ponies with diplomatic opportunities which some of you ponies are pretty legendary for capitalizing on.” He shrugs. “Maybe you'll all use your rainbow magic or what have you at that point. I still think it's a net gain to narrow down our target from one ambitious changeling with no motivation to hold back versus an army of traumatized clones who are more ready to listen to reason.

“In any case, I know our situation isn't sustainable as it stands so we need to work a clever solution here. Every strategy would always hold some risk. I know I prefer to work with perfect numbers but beggars can't be choosers. At least, not yet.”

On the other side of the mirror, he leans forward emphatically as he asks me, “So, my little pony, do we have a deal? You said you wanted to work with me and now I'm giving you that chance with some conditions attached and they are attached for a very good reason.

“Bottom line, little filly . . . are you in . . . or out?” He lifts a hoof. “Choose wisely, little one, for it is more than our fate that is at stake here.”

I look down as I spend several minutes thinking about his words and proposal very seriously. After that, I look back at him as firmly as I can when I finally reach a decision.

Author's Note

Well, this certainly raises some issues. Possible answers, and in fact many answers, but perhaps an equal number of questions.

The host changeling, for his own reasons, decided to make an unexpected (at least as far as she is concerned) alliance with Sweetie Belle. He basically also spelled out most of the answers to the mystery of this fanfic, but can he be trusted? Sweetie Belle was convinced earlier that he's a master of psychology and it's obvious that he's up to something. Question is, does he really stand to benefit from cooperating with Sweetie Belle more now than he did before?

And, if he's telling the truth, what else does that imply about the dangers that still exist out there? Who else might potentially be replaced and unaware of it?

My editor, Onyx Rose, didn't feel he could be trusted at this point, but what do you think? I'd love to know your thoughts in the comment section about any of this. That's the wonderful thing about mystery. It has depth worthy of being discussed.

Chapter 21: Emotions in a Bottle

I stir awake and groan tiredly. As I rise to consciousness, it quickly occurs to me that I don't feel fully rested but I can't go back to sleep either. Maybe it's because I feel too anxious.

I look around to get my bearings again. Although it is pretty dark, I can still see enough to realize that I am in my bedroom at my sister's place. I honestly don't recall being sent here. In fact, I still recall the dream I just had a moment ago better than how I got here in the first place. I'm beginning to suspect I got teleported here while I was unconscious in Starlight's bedroom which is the last place I do recall falling asleep in.

My ears perk up when I notice a tiny sound of snoring somewhere nearby. As I look about, I locate Ocellus sleeping in my bedroom on the one piece of furniture that doesn't belong here. Namely, my sister's oh-so-famous and sentimental fainting couch. With it here and used, it leaves me a little concerned about my sister's health. If she fainted now without that piece of furniture then she might collapse onto the floor and get her coat all dirty and such.

After a moment it more fully sinks in the fuller implications of Ocellus sleeping in my bedroom. She's so attached to me right now that it's like I'm dragging her around like an anchor. She has her own bedroom and her own life to live but all of that is put on hold just to support a friend.

Part of me is touched, but a much greater part of me feels a gaping hole in my chest which is largely due to guilt. I'm Sweetie Belle, for pony's sake! I'm supposed to be the one helping others because it feels good! It's what I'm meant to do! That's what my cutie mark is for. So, to look at my situation now when I'm actually being a burden on someone else instead of being helpful breaks my heart. What did Ocellus do to deserve this? Why should her entire life be put on hold just because I'm going through a tough time right now?

This is the exact opposite of my destiny and it feels so wrong.

I hate it! I hate it! I HATE it!

I crawl out of my bed slowly in fear of waking Ocellus up. After being forced to follow me all day as well as getting hurt when the still unnamed entity within me attacked my friends, I strongly feel that this sweet little changeling absolutely deserves every second of rest she can get.

I look at her all curled up on the fainting couch while a soft, fluffy wool blanket with tiny sparkles of glitter in it rests comfortably on her.

Stealthfully, I try to creep out of my room. I actually wince every single time I hear the floorboards creak. I remember this happening before, too. This even occurred at my parents’ place as well. For example, if I was trying to sneak down into the kitchen and pilfer a cookie from the cookie jar, only then do the floorboards sound like this. Why does that always happen? It never seems to do that when I'm trotting normally. Only when I'm actually afraid to get caught is when I keep hearing sounds like this. It's as if the treacherous floorboards are actually trying to tattle on me.

I wince at the front door as I realize I might have the same problem there. I really try to open it slowly and carefully but every tiny little sound seems greatly amplified. I nervously look over my shoulder as the light in the hallway spills into my bedroom which was the primary source of light even before I opened the door due to the light seeping in from around the door cracks. I notice Ocellus's ears flick a few times as if trying to swat aside a fly. During those few seconds, I totally freeze. I don't even dare to breathe. Only when she seems to settle down again do I breathe a tiny sigh of relief then carefully exit my room. I close the door while peeking through it. I see the light on my changeling friend narrowing as I shut the door. She does not seem to stir again.

So far, so good.

Only when I have the door fully shut do I realize that I hear my sister crying in her room. My head and ears perk up since I'm curious if I heard that right. First my ears and then my face turn in the direction I am hearing the sound. I pause to listen. Eventually I notice that she is crying, but fairly faintly. I can only hear her in sporadic spurts when she happens to be loud enough to catch it.

Next, I sneak my way to her bedroom. As I draw closer to my sister’s room, I can hear her crying better. When I arrive, I notice her door ajar just a bit. It is as if she was afraid to fully shut her door just in case I needed her.

I debate this for a moment before gently nudging the door open with my muzzle. As the opening of her door expands, so, too, does my vision of her bedroom. As the obscuring structure peels away, I keep noticing how I don't see Rarity yet until the door opens enough for me to spot her at her sewing machine workstation, but she isn't working on any clothing right now. Instead of that, she has her face planted on her workstation and her forehooves covering her head from behind.

For a moment I thought she might be crying because . . . Well, actually, there can be all sorts of reasons. She honestly does this a lot, but it seems rarer these days.

But then something else snaps in my mind. I remember how calm my sister reacted when my friends told her the whole news shortly after I arrived at her place. This was after I got kicked out of my parents’ place, too. At the time I thought she took the news that calmly because she experienced so much worse during her adventures, but now I'm beginning to realize that she merely bottled her emotions for my sake.

In other words, she hid her pain to protect my feelings because she didn't wish to be a burden.

I look down sadly as I realize how much I understand her feelings. Thoughts like that just went through my head a few minutes ago.

I should have known better. My sister is a very sensitive pony. Her emotions are like a sponge. She’s always absorbing whatever she experiences around her. The most she can do to hide it is delay reactions like this until she is in privacy. By pretending to be the calm and sensible one, it is being generous to others around her that she cares about.

Then I frown as another thought occurs to me. Honestly, I get this a lot from other adult ponies as well. It is touching how they keep trying to protect the feelings of young foals like me but it's also a bit condescending. It's like they keep saying to themselves, “No! Hide how severe the situation is because these young ponies can't hoofle the stress. Let's just pretend that everything is all hunky-dory so that these immature little foals don't have to worry their innocent little heads.”

I wonder if my sister had to put up with that as she grew up, or my parents, for that matter. Why is every adult pony always treating us as if we're made of fragile glass?

For a moment, I feel torn on how to react. Do I enter her room and attempt to comfort her or do I sneak away so she'll think she was never caught in this apparently awkward situation?

Neither option feels totally ideal but she did try to hide this from me so maybe I'll let her keep this moment of privacy. I don't know what to say to comfort her anyway.

I bite into the doorknob in order to pull it to a close. When I do so, I hear the door creak louder than ever as if the door is saying, “Ah-ah-ah! You didn't say the magic word!”

And, shoot! Rarity did hear that, for pony feather's sake!

Rarity perks her head up from her work desk. She steers her ears back to aim in my direction. She almost turns her head but stops herself after she turns her head only a bit. I barely catch the sight of her tears causing streaks in her mascara.

“Oh! Sweetie Belle. What are you doing up so late?” Rarity asks me as she attempts to regather her composure. It's actually a little eerie and awe-inspiring how much she seems to succeed with that. She turns off the waterworks so rapidly that it sounds like she never turned it on in the first place.

“Oh. I'm sorry for disturbing you. I was sleeping just a moment ago but I had a bad dream so I wanted to trot it off for a bit before trying to go back to sleep,” I explain.

“I see,” Rarity accepts with a neutral tone. As she says that, I hear magic at work somewhere in front of her but I can't see what she's doing with it.

However, a moment later, when she turns on her stool to face me, I see her mascara fully repaired and her face perfectly calm. It really does look like she's been calm all along.

“Well, if you're having trouble sleeping, how about I prepare for you a warm glass of milk? Huh? Would you like that, Sweetie Belle?” my sister offers.

“Um,” I try to decide but can't finish my thought because she resumes refining her offer.

“Maybe you can tell me all about your awful dreams. Maybe sharing it with somepony will help them go away,” Rarity reasons. “I can also sing for you if you'd like.”

How generous.

Then again, my sister is always like that. Sometimes I hate how greedy she makes me seem in comparison when I'm actually just being a normal filly.

I consider her offer for a moment before realizing what I really want to do is go out for a trot by myself. It's not that I don't appreciate having compony like Ocellus or the other Crusaders around but lately I feel starved for independence.

“Uh . . . no. I think I'll just head back to sleep,” I tell her. “I'll be fine on my own.”

“Are you sure?” my sister double-checks with me. “Because it would be no trouble at all. I'd be glad to help.”

Glad to help! Just like I should be doing instead. I hate how my situation is making everypony else around me perceive me as if I'm powerless. I know they are just trying to be kind, but it's also damaging to my self-esteem.

“Nah,” I assure with a wave of a hoof. “I'll be fine. I promise.”

“If you're sure,” my sister says with lingering worry and uncertainty, then she suddenly brightens. “Ooo! I know what will cheer you up, but we can do it tomorrow after you wake up again. What you and I should do is have our own private fashion show right here in my shop!” She waves off at me with a hoof. “I'm sure your masculine-sounding voice and body have been quite the wreck for your own private sense of identity. What I think we should do is get you all dressed up in some fancy gowns and dresses. Make you feel all bubbly again like the little lady you actually are.” She smiles at me brightly and hopefully as she asks me, “Doesn't it sound nice?”

I squint my eyes at her for a second as I privately contemplate how like her it is to suggest something like that. Of course she'd suggest a private dress fashion show to cheer me up because that is exactly what would work for her.

Sometimes it's annoying, but other times it's actually fun and I do like to help her out. Doing so occasionally inspires her with new ideas for other dresses on top of that.

Also, she's right. My personal sense of self has been wounded lately because of my recent experiences. Maybe my sister has a point. Maybe a fashion montage is just what I need to help me feel like my old self again.

Then I widen my eyes just a bit as it occurs to me that my sister might attempt to drag Button Mash into this as well. As out of place as I felt lately, I can understand how horrified he might feel from such an activity, and yet a wicked part of me can't help but look upon that possibility with a devious sense of giddiness.

Besides that, there is the fact that I've never seen my own body in a makeover session from an outside perspective before. That might even give me a few good ideas on how to improve my image even further later on. When we switch back, Button might appreciate the enhancements to my appearance based on what I've learned from this rather unique opportunity.

So, with a devious grin, I tell my sister, “Only if Button Mash also joins me.”

“Button Mash?” my sister queries while looking taken aback “Why would he be interested in this?”

“Well, ah . . . to help improve my image later on?” I suggest in what sounds like a lame excuse even to my own ears. “Plus, it's a unique opportunity for him too. He's never been a filly before and I doubt he ever will be again. This will be an opportunity to expand on his interests a little.”

“Oh that's right!” my sister exclaims as she looks in the direction of what I assume to be the Ponyville Hospital. “He's in your body right now, isn't he?”

“Yeah,” I agree with a silly grin. “Don't you think he'd look cute trying on your dresses?” I lift a hoof. “I think it will be very educational for him.”

“Perhaps,” my sister says as she looks back at me. “But he's been through a lot himself too. We could encourage this but I don't want to push him into anything he doesn't want to do. I may have to run this by his mother as well.”

“Leave that to me!” I say deviously. “Trust me, I know how to push their buttons!”

Finally my sister is starting to catch on to how exciting the idea could be.

“Well . . . I suppose I could gather some insight from the mind of a colt, even if he temporarily wears the body of a filly, and the body of my little sister at that,” my sister figures with a sly grin, but then that grin drops as she asks me in concern, “Are you sure you will be fine with it? I don't want you to feel jealous.”

“Jealous? Of myself?” I query.

“But that's just it, darling,” my sister reflects. “Right now that isn't you even though it should be. I'm just worried you'll feel . . . you know . . . displaced.”

I lift my head up straight as I finally realize the point my sister is trying to make. In the process, my expression grows a great deal more serious.

“Well, um . . . it's true that I haven't been feeling like myself lately,” I admit. “But I just want to do something fun. Something to take my mind off of this whole mess.”

“What if he is uncomfortable with this?” my sister checks. “For you, he might put on airs that he's willing to do it but I'm just scared that he'd be secretly humoring you.”

I shrug as I say, “Well, if he is, I'll make it up to him somehow. He's my special somepony, Rarity. I think it's perfectly normal to have some embarrassing moments together.” I pretend to fluff my mane that isn't actually there out of sheer habit. “I believe that, in the long gallop, it actually strengthens the bond between two ponies. He might grow red with embarrassment with this at first but, trust me, someday we'll both look back at the memory and laugh.”

Rarity gives me a half-smile as she says with partial acceptance, “I suppose you might be right. Just don't push him too hard, okay? Like I said, he must be going through a tough time right about now too.”

“Which is another reason I want to do something fun together,” I argue. “I was scared half to death, Rarity, with worry for him when he was lost in that forest.” I stomp a hoof. “I feel he owes me for that!”

“Oh, the heart of a little filly,” my sister muses whimsically as she looks elsewhere then looks back at me. “Alright. You sleep tight. I'm glad I gave you something to look forward to in the meantime. Maybe that will help with your dreams, too.”

“I sure hope it does,” I say as I touch her doorknob with a hoof. “Good night, Rarity.”

“Good night,” she bids in equal measure. “Sleep tight, little one.”

I close the door.

Author's Note

And back to slice-of-life again. Back and forth to remind the readers that each of the genre tags added still applies, but not necessarily at the same time.

This chapter is here to reveal greater depth in both Sweetie Belle and her sister. Sweetie caught his sister crying and, in the process, it reminds Sweetie that her sister continues to remain vulnerable to her sensitive emotions, even if she temporarily tries to hide them. By revealing that, I feel I've protected the integrity of the character while also playing up the drama normally associated between these two. There are layers of depth to them both and their relationship together which continues to evolve throughout the show and beyond into this fanfic.

I hope you enjoyed this simple but heartfelt chapter.

Chapter 22: Psychological Experiment

This is actually fairly unlike me to roam outside in Ponyville at night. I will, however, admit to myself that I used to do it more in my youth. Maybe not the wander Ponyville alone part but certainly the stay up late at night, for I, like most foals my age, am a little bundle of energy.

However, as I got older, I started to understand the appeal most adults have for longing for their beds by the end of the day. My joy in my career choice notwithstanding, I must admit that I do feel more wiped out when all is said and done.

Ponyville itself, like most small towns in Equestria, is relatively peaceful, even at night. It isn't common for citizens of a town to go outside like this and wonder to themselves, “Will I be attacked tonight?”

Maybe the town's folk should be saying it to themselves more. Ponyville has been the target of assault by hostile forces multiple times. In fact, it's happened so frequently that the citizens are almost bored or nonchalant about it sometimes. The credit for that attitude was most likely due to the town's resident superheroines. That's gotten so routine that sometimes the citizens actually took bets how their newest conflict would get resolved by the Elements of Harmony except, lately, both Ponyville and even Equestria at large are beginning to focus their eye on a new generation of champions.

I have some personal investment in this affair since I happen to be related to one of those legendary heroes. The rest of the Crusaders definitely can relate to me when it comes to looking up at our big sisters with pride even though Scootaloo and Rainbow Dash technically are not related. That said, they do behave with each other as if they are sisters. Even going so far as teaming up together at the Sisterhoof Social.

Despite all of that, something feels different about the town tonight. The largest reason that I can put my hoof on is the fact that I look different. I left my sister's shop wearing a dark cloak with a hood specifically to hide my identity since I knew there is a strong chance I might startle other ponies if they beheld me in full view. As a result, I grow fearful of discovery and that, in turn, puts me on edge as I trot through the town. Ponyville is my home that's filled with very happy and generally friendly ponies. I shouldn't be feeling this way in my hometown at all.

But the second reason I am feeling uncomfortable in this town is, at first, more elusive. Roaming about the town in the dark started to remind me of the nightmares I've been suffering from for almost a year.

Usually I soon forget those dreams shortly after waking. That attitude is compounded by the sense that I used to think they were just dreams so I acted like they did not matter.

However, after my more recent encounter with the entity within me, I can't help but look upon this dark but otherwise innocent town with a sense of paranoia. After all, what if I'm not the only one who’s been replaced? If what the entity within me says is true, the true mastermind behind this whole plot is still at large and can take over anypony whose been replaced except for me because he no longer has access to my original body. Even if he did, he can't use it to take me over ever since Button Mash came into the picture, or so the entity within me claims.

I can't dismiss the possibility that the whole thing is a lie designed to drive a wedge of distrust between me and the rest of Equestria. This might be a new system intended to control me and my perception of reality.

But one thing I do know is he's frighteningly intelligent. Certainly much more so than me and I'm no dummy, especially for my age. I can think deeply about stuff sometimes but this guy is on a whole different level. I've seen what an evil genius looks like before and what kind of damage they can wreak in Equestria. It is definitely something that unsettles me. I've also known heroes on par with that kind of intelligence, but since I'm not one of them, that, in turn, limits my confidence.

I freeze, greatly startled, when I hear somepony actually whistle the exact same innocent tune that often plagues my nightmares. I turn my ears in that direction as I listen to it carefully. Sure enough, somepony is whistling that tune and that already is starting to make me question my reality.

Is this another dream? Is it about to transform into a nightmare? Does that mean I dreamed of my encounter with my sister too?

There are several factors in place that are consistent with my nightmares. I'm wandering about in the dark and then I hear that haunting whistle. The only factor out of place is I see a few other ponies trotting about. I'm not totally alone which is a common theme in my nightmares before I awaken from them.

After listening to the whistle for a moment, I finally distinguish another important difference between this sound and my own dreams. For once, the tune actually sounds a bit higher pitch like maybe it's coming from a mare this time.

It could also just be a coincidence. After all, this evil changeling might not be the only one in the world whose accustomed to whistling this tune.

But, just in case this is a true threat and I'm not asleep, I decide to be cautious by trotting on. I also quicken my pace.

Just like my nightmares, the whistle fades in the distance as I trot on. It doesn't sound like the singer is following me. Or if she is, she's not doing it very fast.

But then I pause, startled again, when I hear that same whistling tune pick up ahead of me. It even resumed exactly where the other song left off. The other whistle behind me also got cut off only to resume ahead of me as if my pursuer teleported. The one thing that seems different, in this case, is the tone of the whistle ahead of me. It's deeper like it might be a stallion this time.

Well . . . I am dealing with a threat who is a changeling, or so he claims, at least. It's very likely true, too, given the form I currently wear myself. If this is another clone of the same changeling and he's assuming control of him or her at this very moment then his form and gender is a moot point. He can disguise himself as anything. The only question is, is he teleporting or simply switching his control between one pony to the next?

Or is this a nightmare after all?

Just like my nightmares, I am assaulted by this keen sense of vulnerability. There's something out there that might want to hurt me and he's very capable of doing so. Not only does he look and act scary but he is, if anything, more dangerous than he looks. This is the kind of changeling that nearly killed Princess Twilight and disabled one of her enchantments with ease. This is a monster that can instantly assume even the supernatural abilities of any creature he wants. If he can do all that, what chance do I have?

Just like my nightmares, my trot picks up to a canter. I do what I've always done in my dreams even though they proved not to work time and time again. I can't help it because of how I feel and I honestly can't think of a better option anyway. Returning to my sister's place does cross my mind but there's still a chance I might be intercepted before I get there.

Worse; what if my sister is replaced too?

Just like last time, the whistle fades a certain distance before suddenly picking up ahead of me and cutting off behind me. The song also continues to pick up where it left off but it also sounds like a different voice each time it picks up. Most ponies probably could not tell something like that just from a simple whistle but I'm Sweetie Belle. My ears are more attuned to subtilties of music better than the average pony.

The pattern finally changes with the fourth switch. This time, not only is the whistle continuing in the area I left, but it picks up in three places ahead of me. Moments later, those voices echo about me as if the song is starting to surround me. It reminds me of a predator circling around and closing in on his prey.

Is this a dream or not? What if it's real this time? What if I'm in true danger? What if he decides to kill me?

Somepony, anypony, HELP ME!

“Good evening, Sweetie Belle,” a voice of a familiar mare speaks nearby me. The moment she spoke, I yelp, startled again, then quickly spin about to face her. When I do, I realize I am confronted by a lime green mare with a white mane. I can't see her eyes too well in this dim lighting and I'm standing at the wrong angle to see her cutie mark since she's looking directly towards me but there's still no mistaking who this is.

“Goo . . . Good evening to you too, Lyra Heartstrings,” I return with relief until a troubling question occurs to me. “Wait . . . you called me Sweetie Belle.” I tilt my head at her curiously. “How did you know that?”

“Oh, I know many things about you, Sweetie Belle. Perhaps even more than you know yourself,” Lyra tells me with a menacing inflection that causes me to cringe.

Then, as if to confirm my worst fear about her, I see her face morph in several ways. Her eyes narrow sideways like a snake. Those same eyes also grow red like they are bloodshot. Her jaw also drops to an unnatural degree. From within her mouth, I hear a snake-like hiss. I also see many spikes grow inside of her mouth as if she had recently chewed on barbed wire except each spike grows exponentially. Those spikes even pierce through her own tongue and the side of her mouth. It's honestly a wonder that she's not drooling a pool of blood right now because of these self-inflicted injuries.

The point is well taken in any case. She is revealing herself to be a monster in front of me and it is successfully leaving a very deep psychological scar in me.

“Wha . . . what do you want with me?” I ask fearfully while in the midst of a strong cringe.

At first “Lyra” does not answer me. She just steps forward then leans forward as if to take a bite out of my neck with her mouth filled with many iron spikes. During this moment, I totally freeze other than an uncontrollable shiver. I don't feel as if I can control my muscles right now even if I want to.

But then “Lyra” pulls back while taking a deep whiff before declaring in satisfaction, “Ah . . . the sweet smell of fear.” Her monstrous bloodshot eyes look at me. “You know your place well, little one. For as long as you fear me, I shall spare you.”

Far be it for me to complain about her sparing me, but it does raise some disturbing questions.

“Do you just want to feed off my fear like changelings usually do with love? Is that something else that sustains you?” I ask with worry.

She shrugs as she answers, “To some extent. There's also something to be said about the tactical advantages of certain psychological responses to one's prey.”

“And that is how you see me?”

After I ask that, I see the spikes withdraw back into her mouth and her eyes return to “normal”. As the spikes retreat, her mouth and tongue morph into a perfectly healed state.

“Actually, my perception of you has changed quite a bit recently,” the changeling imposter of Lyra tells me. “Honestly, this isn't the first time I've viewed you as a valuable experiment, but the circumstances have changed.” The fake Lyra reaches forward to boop me on my nose as she says, “You should consider yourself very fortunate because you've recently undergone an upgrade in status. Before long, you will realize that you have ascended to become a member of the new master race.” She bows to me. “Although that wasn't my direct intention, congratulations are in order nevertheless.”

“Master race?” I query while feeling deeply disturbed by that implication.

“Why yes!” the fake Lyra immediately agrees. “After all, you are living in my world even as we speak. Very soon, changelings will receive the noble status that they deserve. I'll see to that.”

“What do you mean that this is 'your world'?” I ask as I sit down and make hoof quotes. “I get how a villain like you might have aspersions to take over the world, but you haven’t succeeded yet.”

“Oh, but I have,” the fake Lyra argues. “Even now, I have changeling agents replace key members of many areas in Equestria. I already rule this continent in all but name. I'm just waiting to put a few more key things in place before I make the big reveal and make it all official.” She points to me. “You live and breathe in my world only because it amuses me and because I have a certain fondness for members of my race. Psychologically I'm also interested to see how your mind unfolds as you steadily observe your new reality take shape.

“Frankly, you're not the only one who is fortunate. To a much lesser extent, your friends and family will benefit from your upgrade in status. As a soon-to-be member of the ruling class, you will have a say what the fate of the others is.” She grows an evil grin as she goes on to say, “For example, your friend Button Mash is also in a curious state of affairs. Be that as it may, I'll allow you to keep 'her' and pamper 'her' as much as you wish.” The sinister look deepens in her eyes in an amused way. “I'm sure she'll make a very cute pet.”

I gulp nervously while also feeling a small trickle of rage. I ask her, “Why are you telling me all of this? Why don't you just finish me off now?”

“Finish you off?” fake Lyra asks me with a tilt of her head. “Now why should I do that? You're no threat to me.” She straightens as she says more seriously, “I'm telling you this now to make it clear where our relationship stands. Things for you have developed in a direction I did not expect so I'll be watching your movements now with great interest.” She twirls a hoof to her side. “So just sit back and relax. Try to enjoy the show as it evolves around you. You might get some amusement out of it too.”

Fake Lyra leans her head forward, closing the gap between our faces to merely six inches.

“Just in case you gain any 'heroic' or 'noble' aspirations, or at least as you would define it, try to remember how we are literally surrounded by hostages,” she proclaims as she waves a hoof about in a grand gesture of the whole town. “Not everypony is replaced, mind you, and I can give those who are not a very bad day!” She narrows her eyes at me as her head lifts up straight again. “Ocellus told you what happens to those who whisper the name of our organization, didn't she?” She gives me an evil smile. “It might be a defunct organization now but I still have my professional pride. Don't cross me, little filly,” she warns me with sudden and startling intensity on the word “don't” before going on to say, “You wouldn't like me when you cross me.”

I cringe fearfully again as she reaches a lime green hoof towards me and strokes me softly on my cheek. Despite how gentle her touch is, I emotionally feel like I'm being burnt by acid.

“I can make things so unpleasant for you and those you love,” she tells me in a tender voice which is a severe contrast to the words she said which makes her seem like such a chilling sociopath. “Your worst nightmares cannot even come close to the damage I can wreak for you.” Her hoof lowers from my face. “I don't have any weaknesses like you do for I have no attachment to anyone else.” She squints one eye at me. “But since you do . . . I highly suggest you remember that.”

“I'll be a good girl,” I promise fearfully.

“Good!” fake Lyra says cheerfully in a way that heavily reminds me of the real Lyra Heartstrings. All of a sudden this fake seems just like the genuine article. “Then we're going to get along famously!”

She turns around but keeps her gaze locked on me over her shoulder as she adds, “And, as I said before, enjoy the show!

“Oh! Also be sure to tell anypony you don't care for about our conversation tonight. Do that,” she pauses as she lifts her hoof to her neck and gives a slicing motion across her neck, “and I'll make sure they don't get a chance to tell anypony else the secret ever again.”

She smiles so brightly that she closes her eyes as she says, “Toodles for now!”

At that point she faces forward again and canters off with that cheery and haunting tune on her lips. She quickly seems to merge into the shadows between an alley. When she does that, the song seems to echo around me again, confusing her true position.

I am numb with shock for . . . Well, I don't know how long. All I do know is this state is broken when I hear somepony else attempt to get my attention.

“Pssssssssst!” says a whisper in the shadows of another alley. “Little filly . . . come hither,” the voice bids. It's hard to tell, but I think that voice is the voice of the changeling in his true form.

Despite myself, I feel driven into that alleyway. I don't even want to go in there but it feels like my body has a mind of its own.

Eventually I look down into the water in a wooden bucket. When I do, I see the stars reflected in it. The shadow of a head partially obscures it. I notice it looks like my own head but it does not follow my head movements.

Then, a second later, the chilling eyes in the reflection glow green. I look to the side at a wall to see if my actual eyes are glowing but, apparently, they are not. The light seems to be coming from the reflection alone.

“We need to talk,” the changeling in the reflection of the water tells me. “For you just met an aspect of my true self. It was not really his true self, though. He simply controlled that clone from a distance within his cave.”

“Am I dreaming?” I ask aloud. “I must be dreaming.”

“Shhhh!” the changeling shushes me. “Keep your voice down . . . and no! You're not dreaming this time. Our connection is intensifying enough that I can now partially contact you in the waking world.

“More importantly, you met an aspect of my true self. More importantly than that, he's aware of you and interested in you.” He shrugs. “That makes perfect sense to me because you are the one that got away. Perhaps even the only one. So, naturally, he'd be interested in you.” He narrows his eyes. “But not just you. I think he's also interested to see if I survived within you because I'm the only one he regards as a true threat. After all, I'm the one with the means and the motive to unravel his plans.”

“Then let's do it!” I encourage. “Let's confront him in his lair and free all of those he captured from their slime cocoons. If we do so, his plan will unravel, right? You said his changeling clones will rebel against his control. This will also make him lose contact with the bodies of his changeling clones.”

The changeling in the pool shakes his head as he says, “The time is not ripe yet. I told you earlier that we need the element of surprise and, right now, that's too difficult to maintain if we act too hastily. He just told us that he's watching us closely. This is absolutely the wrong time for rash actions.”

“But-”

“Besides,” he interrupts. “I don't know where his lair is.”

I am taken aback as I ask, “What?! But aren't you his clone? Wouldn't you know this stuff?”

He shakes his head as he says, “Apparently Mirror Pool clones have imperfect memories of their original selves.” He growls. “That's absolutely annoying!” He calms down as he continues. “But that's consistent with an earlier report I have.” He looks to his side with uncertainty. “Either that, or it's direct observation.” He looks back at me. “Either way, I gained some intel from a clone of Pinkie Pie who escaped earlier. She was living in Manehatten and goes by a different name now. Her recollection of Pinkie's life seems fuzzy.” He waves a hoof. “Aside from that, she seems content to develop a new life of her own. I think even her cutie mark got changed.”

Again, I am taken aback as I ask, “Really? How? I thought we can't change our destiny any more than we can change our cutie mark.”

He shrugs as he says, “Don't ask me about pony destinies and cutie marks, but in this particular case, a new pony results in a new cutie mark. Don't you dare argue cutie mark philosophies and semantics with me. I am not a member of your disgusting Crusaders. My priorities lie elsewhere.”

“Wait a second!” I widen my eyes at the reflection. “You changelings can smell emotions, can't you? And that fake just took a deep whiff of me. Wouldn't she smell your emotions too since you're part of my body?”

The changeling in the pool shakes his head. In the dim lighting, I can barely see a cunning grin grow on his face.

“No because I took minor control of our body during that moment,” he tells me. “Specifically our shapeshifting abilities. With it, I disguised our scent by projecting a false pheromone.” He thinks about it for a second before correcting, “Well, partially false pheromone.” He waves a hoof. “I did nothing to disguise your fear because he would expect to smell that. If he smelled confidence instead, he'd know there's a reason for it which would quickly lead him to the conclusion that I might be alive inside of you.” He shakes his head. “If he had suspected that then or later, I doubt we'd have long to live.”

I gulp nervously.

“Yes!” the changeling says with a grunt of approval and excitement. “Hold tight to that fear, for it will shield you as he promised. Furthermore, I know he's not lying when he said he's interested in you because you became a changeling. That reason alone is why he's reluctant to hurt you and why he gave you a warning instead of taking no chances and silencing you permanently.” He narrows his glowing green eyes at me. “You really are a fortunate filly.”

“But we can't just do nothing!” I argue.

“That's exactly what we need to do right now!” the changeling argues back. “At least for now. Lie low and do whatever you'd normally do in this situation if I was not here to guide and protect you. Pretend it's just you facing this threat on your own because that is what he expects and that is what he needs to observe.”

“Do you really think he'd hurt my friends and family just to protect his secret?” I ask nervously.

“Absolutely,” he confirms immediately. “Or at least he'd take some measures to make sure they are neutralized as a threat.” He shakes his head. “That does not necessarily mean he'd kill them. After all, we both like to maintain clear professionalism here. To us, that means leaving no evidence to discover.” He shakes his head again. “And dead bodies are a messy business to work with. Sure, we can replace them temporarily but it's usually only a matter of time before somepony suspects. As for the bodies themselves, we typically try to burn them and bury the ashes or some other thorough way to be rid of it, but it should be noted that no strategy of disposal is typically perfect. That being the case, alternative strategies should at least be considered.

“Given the kinds of resources he has to work with here, I rather suspect that, if you blabbed his secret to anypony, then that pony will be targeted next for a ponynapping and replacement with a changeling clone. After all, those are easier to work with.

“After that, he'd come after you next if he knew you're the source of the leak.” He waves a hoof. “He gave you one warning tonight. Do not expect another. Next time he will strike without warning and, when he does, he will make sure you do not get a chance to counter strike.”

“Even though killing me risks discovery?” I check with a bit of hope in my voice.

He tilts his head at me as he counters my question with another question. “If you were suddenly missing, would that be considered a unique case?” He straightens his head as he encourages, “Think this through! Of course he'd be reluctant to kill you due to the risks but, if you prove to be a greater risk while alive, it would force him to weigh the cost/benefit analysis again. If he finds you wanting then I guarantee he won't lose much sleep over killing you, and don't think the fact you are a filly would give him any hesitation.

“No.” He shakes his head. “The fact you are a member of the true changelings, a breed he now considers an endangered species, is the true reason he's hesitating for now. That, and the fact he's interested to study your mind psychologically as you explore your new situation.” He gives an evil grin. “We really do have interest in issues like that because it makes us better spies and manipulators.” He taps his head with a hoof. “Knowing the inner workings of the mind teaches us how to be better impersonators. Trust me,” he pauses for a moment as he leans backwards then forwards like a stretching cat trying to get comfortable before he resumes, “we take our work very seriously. Such things are required to be a member of our former organization.”

“So that's it? We do nothing?” I double-check.

“Biding our time and waiting for the right moment to strike can be considered an action,” he explains as if that might comfort me. “Pretending to lay low while remaining prepared to act is important for the moment. If you really want to save your friends, you'll listen to me and do exactly as I tell you.” He narrows his eyes at me. “I'm the only real advantage you've got.”

“My friends can help me if they know,” I say then shake my head. “It doesn't have to be now, though. I can tell them later when 'the time is right’. If we really want to succeed in a goal this difficult, we should really consider utilizing the resources of my friends.” I lean down as I look at the water more closely. “Isn't that something you would do? Utilize every tactical advantage you can get? Especially if you consider yourself to be on the losing end?”

He stares at me for a few seconds in silence before nodding his head and admitting, “Point taken, but don't tell them until I tell you to tell them. Just as you are being monitored, so too is everypony you talk to. They might be one of the unwitting spies or soon will be if they are caught with that information. We have to move very carefully.”

I smile as I lift my head back up. I feel proud that I got him to agree to that much at least.

Author's Note

And back to tension, although it's undercut by a possible secret ally.

It's really easy to question reality in a situation like this. It's hard for Sweetie to know what to trust, even her senses. Dreams and reality start to blur with an antagonist that approaches Sweetie on both levels and does so in very scary but also surreal ways. The disguised changeling that spoke to her outright admitted that she's an interesting psychological experiment, and this coming from one who is both interested in and an adept scholar of the mind.

Who should she trust in a situation like this?

One way or another, that is certainly something an antagonist would want Sweetie to ask herself because it undercuts the source of her strength, and he just might be intelligent enough to recognize that threat.

And how about this timing? A chapter better suited to come out on Halloween instead comes out on Christmas Day exactly.

I swear I did not plan that on purpose when I announced to post a new chapter every Saturday.

Well, happy holidays anyway! I hope you enjoyed this present whenever you decide to open it.

Chapter 23: Makeover

“Are we done yet?” Button Mash asks my sister and I irritably and impatiently for what feels like the millionth time.

“Almost there. Aaaaaaaaaand . . . done!” Rarity declares triumphantly then steps aside so that my coltfriend can look at my real body in the mirror. Likewise, the movable privacy cover that has my sister's face on it within an oval image floats away from him.

I have to struggle hard to avoid bursting into gut-busting laughter. As it stands, I can't help but snicker a little as I behold my special somepony looking at himself in the mirror and go aghast at the sight. Seen in the reflection, Button notices the very much colorful and “fru-fru” looking dress on. As if that wasn't enough, he also has full makeup on and the tips of his hooves are painted in hoof polish.

Honestly, more than anything else, it was the makeup that took the longest unless I combine the time of all the other outfits we forced my coltfriend to endure.

“Oh come now,” my sister says to Button with a wave of a hoof. “It's not that ghastly.”

“I . . . am . . . a . . . COLT!” Button reminds us in frustration using my voice and body which seems to belie his own declaration. “How many times must I remind you ladies of this?”

When he says that, I am bewildered by the clash of messages I am receiving. On the one hoof, I am seeing myself standing in front of the mirror while looking at the reflection with great irritation. I've seen that reflection myself plenty of times enough to know that is me. I still see myself that way in my mind. That image is reinforced by hearing my own voice coming out of his lips.

But, on the other hoof, that body is now acting exactly as Button Mash would.

One of the ways my mind attempts to reconcile these clashes of messages is to see that body as an actress, albeit a really good actress, who is pretending to be Button Mash while simultaneously dressed and made up in the most feminine way possible. I could honestly see a soap opera starting with an interesting premise like this.

“I'm not supposed to be in a pony bucking dress!” Button complains. “This is humiliating for me!”

“Aww!” I express while putting my hooves on my cheeks. “You even look so adorable when you complain.”

I immediately regret those words the moment I see anger sink even deeper into Button's eyes. It's not as if I can't sympathize with my colt friend's plight either. I, too, have suffered a massive crisis of identity lately. Part of me actually feels guilty for sharing this sadistic torture, but another part of me can't help it. I like to tease sometimes.

It might also be I want to be understood by somepony who is going through a similar problem that I am. That honestly is making me feel a little better.

My sister sits down and claps her forehooves together as she proposes, “Button, how about this.” She gestures to Button's reflection. “How about you pretend that this isn't your own reflection, but rather that of Sweetie Belle's? That is her body, after all.” She looks at the reflection itself. “So, with that perspective in mind, how do you feel about this image?”

Since my sister put it that way, I notice Button's irritation drop considerably. For the first time, he is examining himself as if he is his normal self again and looking at me as if I'm somepony else.

“Well . . . um . . . since you put it that way . . . I guess it looks . . . ahhhhh . . . cute . . . I guess?” he asks.

Rarity looks at Button as she asks, “Is that a question or a statement?”

“I don't know!” Button complains. “I'm not into this stuff!”

“But Sweetie is your special somepony,” my sister reminds Button. “Do you like the ensemble or don't you?”

“If you don't, we can try something else,” I propose with no menace in my voice this time. Instead, it’s an innocent offer.

Button growls irritably before complaining under his voice, “Please don't!”

“Well, I want to know what you honestly think!” I press. “Hypothetically, let's pretend we switch back to our normal bodies today and then we go out on a date.” I look at the reflection myself. “How would you feel if I wore this outfit for our date?”

“I don't know,” Button repeats as he shrugs and looks up at me off the upper right corner of my body's eyes. “I just want you to be happy, Sweetie Belle. And, if this outfit makes you happy, then I totally welcome you to wear it.”

“Aw!” Now it's my sister's turn to look gushy. “That's so sweet of you, Button Mash.” Now she smiles at my coltfriend fondly. “I can see, now, why my dear baby sister likes you.”

“I just hope you understand why I'm not comfortable wearing this,” Button goes on. “If the other foals at school saw me wearing something like this, my manly pride would take decades to recover.”

I attempt to lift an eyebrow but I think I only manage to lift chitin hide. With that expression, I say, “I don't think you have to worry about the impression of the other foals at school.

“First of all, your mother excused you from going to school in the first place because of your current situation.” I nod to him. “Secondly, even if the other foals did see you like this, they'd merely think you were me trying out yet another one of my sister's fabulous designs.”

“And you don't see a problem with that?” Button reflects as he gazes at me more squarely. “This is your body, Sweetie Belle. This is supposed to be your life. Doesn't it bother you that others would look upon me and see you instead of me?”

I look down sadly as I realize that, now that he mentions that, I do feel a pang of loss.

Actually, it is a very deep pang of loss. I tried to fight it this whole time. I struggled to hold on to that giddy sense as we pressured my special somepony into trying all kinds of girly outfits that he'd never wear normally.

But Button is right. All that he's going through should be me instead!

Both my sister and Button both seem startled when I suddenly burst into a sob.

“Oh! Ah . . . I'm sorry, Sweetie Belle!” Button expresses with startled wide eyes. “I shouldn't have said that. That was careless of me.”

“No! You're absolutely right!” I cry out in my sob. “Everything you've gone through today should be me! I'm the girl, for ponies sake! It should be me in that dress! It should be me in that makeup. It should be me being admired by my own coltfriend.” I twist my hooves into my tear-soaked eyes. “All of this is wrong! So very wrong!”

It's hard to see either of them through the blurriness of my tears but I notice the desperately confused and flustered look on my special somepony's face which, for the moment, is actually my face. He looks like he's desperately trying to come up with something that might cheer me up but, ultimately, his own resolve breaks and he starts to cry too.

Yeah. That's the crybaby Button Mash that I'm quite familiar with. Button is all macho bluster until things really get tough. At that point, he normally proves how much of a foal he still is by galloping into his mother's legs and begging for protection and comfort.

Seeing my own face on Button's doesn't make my tears seem out of place, either. In fact, he probably looks like how I should be looking at right now rather than this hideous monster form I have on!

Fortunately for us both, my sister proves to be the more emotionally mature of us. She trots over to me then embraces me in a hug. She also uses her magic to slide Button Mash over to us so that he can be included in that hug.

“I'm sorry, Sweetie Belle!” Button apologizes while crying. “I . . . I . . . I didn't mah-mean tah-too mah-make you ca-ca-ca-cry!”

“Oh, it's okay, darling. My baby sister has been under a lot of pressure lately. That's not your fault,” my sister sympathetically explains to Button. “And Sweetie Belle . . . there is no shame in pouring out your feelings. You just cry as much as you want. Neither of us will judge you.”

“You were right, Rarity,” I realize aloud. “Last night you proposed giving me a makeover so that I could feel more like myself. It was I who proposed to add Button into the mix as well. You asked me if I was sure and, at the time, I guess I didn't fully understand why you asked, but now I know. Once again you prove how much more mature you are over me. You had more foresight than I did.”

My sister pats me as she says, “It took a while for me to master this too, darling. I wasn't mature overnight. Instead, everything that makes me the pony I am today is an accumulation of all of my previous experiences which include, or perhaps I should say especially include, my old failures.

“Don't worry about it. We all had to go through this at one time or another.”

I frown while tears continue to streak down my ugly face as I say, “Yes, but I want to be a big pony! I want to be seen as mature and sophisticated. Somepony worthy of respect! I'm tired of being seen as a foal all the time!”

“But you are a foal, darling,” my sister counters. “There's no shame in that.

“Besides, I think you are remarkably mature for your age. Why . . . you even run your own business with your friends! It's just like how I run my own business here at the Carousel Boutique. I am very, very proud of you, Sweetie Belle! I know Mom and Dad are as well.”

I sniff as my tears start to dry up. Those words do make me feel better but the core reason why I cried in the first place is still here. A cold emptiness tries to claim my heart at the thought that my body is no longer being worn by me. It's being worn by Button instead and it hurts me to know that that fact hurts him as well. I wanted to find something fun and positive about this situation but all I'm feeling is how wrong and how much of a loss this is.

“I did this for you, Sweetie Belle,” Button explains within a fainter whimper. “All of this. The dresses, the makeup, the humiliation . . . all of it. I did it for your sake because you requested me to do this. You said it would be fun. You said it would be educational. Part of me even believed you, but still . . . you are the main reason. This is your body, after all. I'm just the guest in it.” He looks down sadly. “I feel like I don't have any real control over my life right now. I have to do what you want with this body because it belongs to you anyway and I deeply care about your feelings, too.”

The pain in my chest suddenly doubles which erupts into yet another burst of sobs from me. This time it is mainly because of the guilt I feel for subjecting my coltfriend to this. After all, I'm the one who thought of him when Starlight and I used that Cutie Map that one time. I dragged him into this and now he felt compelled to endure yet more humiliation because he cares for my feelings. Next to that, I'm starting to realize how selfish I've been to him. I've been a terrible fillyfriend!

“In that case, why don't we commit to the project I originally proposed?” my sister brings up. “How about we give you a turn now to have your very own makeover?” She releases me from the hug and looks back at me while holding herself apart at her forelegs-length. “Huh? How about it, Sweetie Belle? Are you ready to feel like a real lady again?”

“Um,” I sniff before answering further. “I . . . I guess so.”

“Then let's do it!” my sister decides as she parts from me a little further. After that, she gives me a very critical look up and down my new body. “Hmm. This is going to be quite a challenge.” She then grins at Button as she says, “Fortunately I have a little extra help.

“Button, will you kindly assist me?”

“Me?!” Button asks in intense surprise. “Why me?”

“Because you now have a bit of experience with fashion, my dear,” my sister explains to Button. “Now it's time to put that practice into good use.”

“You must be joking!” Button retorts. He almost looks flabbergasted. “I don't know the first thing about fashion. You tried to put all kinds of frilly and fru-fru bows and ribbons on me then asked me what I thought about them. Then you removed them before I even had a chance to formulate my thoughts on it. I have absolutely no idea why you even attempted to put them on me nor any idea why you took it away. 'Too tacky', you said. Why? Why were they tacky? How did the colors clash with each other? What do you mean when you said it did not match my complexion?

“To me, Rarity, you were speaking another language entirely. My head is still spinning . . . and now you want me to help with your actual sister? I totally fail to see what value and insight that I can provide that you don't already have in spades.”

My sister tilts her head at Button as she says, “Art is subjective, darling. You can offer just as valuable insight as anypony else because your mindset might match many other potential customers I could get. The more feedback I gain, the more I can improve my craft.”

Button looks uncomfortable as he says, “Still . . . I don't know. All this stuff is a little too girly for my taste and I'm getting sick and tired you two treating me like I'm your baby sister . . . because I'm not. I'm a colt and my name is Button Mash! Don't you two lovely ladies forget it!”

I squint one eye at Button as I ask her, “Really?! You think I'm lovely?”

“Of course,” Button says to me matter of factly. “You're my special somepony. You'll always be lovely to me.”

“Oh Button! That's so sweet!” my sister commends him before bending down and kissing the top of my body’s forehead.

“Ew! Quit it!” Button complains.

“Now, now. None of that,” my sister lighly scolds him. “You're somepony's special somepony now. Take my advice and get used to mushy stuff like that. You're going to need it.”

“Thanks for the warning,” Button grumbles tightly while peering at my sister through narrow eyes.

Spontaneously, my sister raises a hoof as she declares, “IDEAAAA!”

As if on cue, my sister rushes away so she can put her new idea on paper. I presume it's some kind of new dress that I'm supposed to wear. As I look at myself and my black, hole-filled body, I really have to wonder what dress my sister has in mind that won't clash with this complexion.

But Button distracts me from these thoughts when he asks me a question.

“Is that true?” he asks me in minor concern. “Am I going to have to get used to mushy stuff now that I'm your special somepony?”

“Of course!” I cry out as I glomp Button Mash.

This still feels really weird. I'm not attracted to myself like this and I'm sure Button is experiencing similar reservations about me and my new body.

Still, I feel compelled to be honest.

“All . . . Well, actually, more like most girls I know are attracted to that mushy stuff,” I explain to my coltfriend. “We all want to feel wanted and special. Hugging, kissing, and tender affections are all part of that wonderful experience most of us long for secretly or not so secretly.

“And, Button, I'm sorry if you felt pressured to do something you don't like to do today but I hope you also feel that it is indeed educational. You might appreciate the end results on some level but now you also understand how much work we put in to make ourselves this cute or attractive.”

“That's true,” Button realizes below me. “I guess I never appreciated something like that before. I used to look at outfits like this and just poo-pooed it dismissively as just another girly thing I can't really get into but I never understood how much work you mares and fillies put into this and how much you truly care about your appearance.” He adopts a confused look. “Should I feel sorry for you all or what?”

I lay down on top of Button while being careful not to apply my full weight. I also don't want to ruin the dress that we worked so hard to put on him for much of the day.

“Well . . . it's not all bad,” I tell him sincerely. “Most girls I know enjoy trying on different outfits. It's fun and creative. We like to see how each outfit looks on us. We're constantly experimenting because every dress and makeup can produce different results. We also have various moods we swing into for various reasons.” I shrug. “Sometimes we might feel like wearing red today and sometimes blue or pink. It all depends.”

“I . . . see,” Button replies numbly while looking like he does not really understand.

“Something else you have to understand about us girls is we were raised all of our lives being carefully judged for our appearance,” I explain further. “Try to imagine a whole lifetime, from the very beginning of our lives, including when we were young and deeply impressionable and being told constantly things like, 'Oh, that bow looks really cute on you!' or 'Oh, are you sure you want to wear those horseshoes? It does not match your complexion, my dear.'”

I see Button grow thoughtful. I give him a moment to consider my words before I go on.

“All of those kinds of words deeply sunk into our identity and our own sense of self-worth. Add to that, we are very social creatures that are terrified to death of social rejection. We have to care about our appearance or else risk a consequence that most of us find unwelcome. More than most things, we hate to be shunned.”

Now I see a look of sympathy and understanding sink into Button's eyes as he looks up at me with my own eyes that still feels really, really strange to see from an outsider’s perspective. I just can't help but feel how wrong it is that my body’s movements are not cooperating with my mind right now.

But, for what it's worth, at least I think that outfit and makeup looks cute on my body. I was fishing for compliments on it earlier while secretly afraid that my coltfriend didn't like it. If he truly doesn't like it then I may have to consider alternatives despite my own feelings about it.

“I, ah . . . didn't know how much social pressure you fillies and mares felt,” Button tells me sympathetically.

“Oh, that happens to us constantly,” I tell him as I finally rise off of him. I even offer a hoof to help him stand up. After a brief moment of hesitation, he accepts.

“So much so that we're sort of used to it,” I go on to say. “And, because of it, it trains our eye to carefully examine details of our appearance as well as carefully assess what sort of impression it might evoke. On top of that, there is our own daily mood to consider. We want to impress ourselves, too, just as much as anypony else.”

“And you all find that fun?” Button asks me skeptically. “Because, to me, it sounds overly complicated.”

“Oh, absolutely!” I express with confidence until another thought crosses my mind. “Well . . . better to say it's true for most of us but I can't speak for absolutely all mares and fillies.

“Plus,” I jab my left hoof in Rarity's direction three times to indicate her. “there are mares like my sister. While it's true that most mares and fillies are conditioned to care about their appearance to some extent, my sister takes it to a whole new level that even I can't follow.” I lower the hoof I used to indicate my sister's direction and return it back to the floor between my hind legs as I sit up straight in a cat-like pose. “My sister has an eye for detail on levels you wouldn't believe. She can see differences in color in a way that most of us cannot distinguish. She could look at fourteen different gems that all look red and tell us without any true sense of deceit, 'No, darlings. Those are not all red but rather fourteen different shades of color.'”

Button raises an eyebrow on what should be my face, for pony's sake, as he asks me curiously, “Are . . . are you being serious right now?”

I nod as I say, “Uh-huh. Welcome to a taste of my life.” Then I look up with a musing expression. “I have often wondered if my sister's mind is either trained to distinguish between more subtle shades of color than the rest of us, or if her physical eyeball can actually see more depth of color than the rest of us.” I look back at my disguised coltfriend. “I guess we'll never know for sure without actually peaking inside her mind, but it's something I've wondered for years now.”

“Huh,” Button says with an equally contemplative look now.

“Either way, can you imagine what life must look like to her?” I probe him. “Sometimes I wonder if she's bombarded by over sensory stimulation. Maybe that is why she needs her fainting couch so much.

“Well, that and the fact she doesn't like to get dirty when she faints.”

“That must be amazing though, don't you think?” Button asks me with a grin. “Maybe she actually sees some colors we can't even imagine because we've never seen them before. If only you switched bodies with her so you can find out for sure.”

“Yeah! Totally!” I agree with a grin. “That would have been nice to finally know for sure.” I then tilt my head at him as I add, “One thing I do know, however, is I have a similar talent as hers except my talent applies to sound.” I squint as I say, “Maybe I shouldn't say I am absolutely sure.” My expression returns to normal. “But it seems to me that I can distinguish between small and subtle vocal vibrations better than most ponies. After all, I have a gift and passion for singing.” I shrug. “Maybe perks like that just come with the territory.” I shrug again. “I haven't been inside someone else’s head long enough to notice the fact that they can't distinguish between subtle vocal impressions or not.”

Button gives me a curious look as he asks, “But . . . aren't you in somepony else’s mind right now? The physical ear you have isn't your own. Can you still distinguish between subtle sounds or not?”

I widen my eyes as I realize, “True! And I think I can still tell subtle sounds apart.” I look deeply thoughtful. “Does this mean my talent follows my mind and not my physical ears? Or could it mean that the body I switched with also has the same talent by coincidence?”

After seeing my coltfriend shrug, I probe him further, “What about now? Are you hearing any subtle shifts in tone you wouldn't normally notice or hear?”

“Um . . . no?” He shrugs again. “Well, not that I've noticed lately. I've been too busy blocking all of this from sinking into my subconscious mind for my protection and sanity. I love you, Sweetie Belle, but being you is more than I signed up for. No offense.”

I wave a hoof once as I tell him, “None taken. Believe me, I know how you feel right now.”

Button looks down with a frown as he says, “And there's something else that's been bothering me lately. A hypothetical situation that raises a dilemma that I just can't solve.”

“Ah . . . is it about our time of the month when we go into heat?” I ask cautiously.

Button's eyes explode widely open which tells me the answer is strongly no and he definitely regrets the fact I brought that up.

“Okay, again, for the sake of my sanity, I'm going to pretend you didn't bring that up with your coltfriend, for pony's sake!” Button expresses tightly.

“Sorry!” I express sheepishly then grow curious as I ask, “But if that isn't it, what is?”

Regret and worry returns to Button's face as he says, “Well . . . it's about . . .” He looks at me. “What if we're attacked?” He gestures to my real body as he goes on to say, “As your coltfriend, I feel it is my sacred duty to protect you,” he says with strong pride at first but it quickly shifts to confusion and concern. “But what does that mean now that we're separated like this? Hypothetically, if we get attacked, which should I prioritize more? Your body, or your mind?”

I lean my head back just a bit as the deeper implications of his question start to sink into me. I quickly start to understand the type of dilemma Button must be facing now.

Back in school, Button Mash often likes to brag about many things with false bravado. The way he describes himself makes him seem like some invincible warrior with a long mane waving in the wind and a sexy mustache hanging from his lips. It's the kind of things most foals his age like to say. Too bad it isn't true.

But, I have to admit, I do find him very attractive when I sink into the fantasy and pretend that one-hundred percent of his claims are absolutely true. There are many times I'd imagine him boldly presenting himself in a heroic stance while I am trapped in a castle tower and being guarded by an enormous dragon. Despite that, Button faces the dragon boldly and bravely no matter how much the dragon growls and hisses.

Then, when the dragon leans its long neck forward and attempts to bite, Button rushes past the attack and grabs the tip of the dragon's tail. With it, he lifts the dragon up and over him to smash the dragon into the earth back and forth over and over again before whirling the dragon around with ease then chucking the dragon away. The dragon subsequently sails away so fast that it actually flashes into a blink in the distance a few seconds later.

“Button Mash . . . my hero!” I cry out in relief and gratitude for his rescue in this fantasy.

“All in a days work, my lady!” Button declares boldly before sweeping me to the side and bending me over one of his forelegs. “Now then . . . how about you pass me a little sugar, Sweetie Belle?”

According to the fantasy, I can't resist him for multiple reasons. One; he just beat a fully grown dragon with ease so I wouldn't dare wish to anger him by denying his request. Two; he did it for my sake so that not only makes me feel secure but also deeply appreciated, and three; I personally want to kiss him anyway. I'd be more grateful to him still if he allows me to keep on showering him with a rain of kisses. So much the better because it not only allows me to express myself in the manner that I wish, but it also reassures me that he won't be motivated to leave me. If I can keep a powerful and invincible warrior like him by my side then I never have to worry about any other physical threat ever again. That, in itself, won't get rid of all of my problems but it at least phases out some of the most important ones. The challenges that remain will be more on my level that I'd gladly face either on my own or with my friends.

Reality, of course, is considerably different. I often have to roll my eyes in annoyance at how emotionally fragile Button actually is but I do still find it adorable on some levels at least. Instead of feeling like he can protect me, I feel more like a mother during those moments but a mother is still a pony who is very capable of deep affection and love.

“What do you think I should do, Sweetie Belle?” Button asks which tells me he's still stuck on this worry, thereby confirming this is an issue that deeply troubles him. “If I protect you in that body then I risk exposing this body to physical harm.” He shakes my head. “I don't know if I could live with the guilt of knowing I failed to protect you because I allowed this body, your body, to be harmed in order to protect your mind. If we switch back, you'd have to go on living with the consequences that I wrought.” He scrunches up my face in pain. “The thought of seeing you in the hospital like that with an injury I failed to protect you from bothers me a lot.”

He looks off to his side as he adds, “But the flip scenario doesn't settle with me any better either. I just can't imagine myself galloping away from danger to save your body from harm but abandon you in the process. It feels too cowardly.” He looks back at me. “In addition to the physical pain you'd face with whatever that threat is, I'd have to live with the guilt of knowing you'd face emotional pain along with it. That kind of pain can follow you as you transfer back into your body. Would you still look at me the same way while knowing I failed to protect your mind?” He shakes my body’s head vigorously in denial. “I don't think I could live with myself with that possibility either . . . so what do I do?” He grunts. “I shouldn't be forced to choose between your mind and body. Having both components together makes you the pony I fell in love with. That, in turn, simplifies my manly objective. Protect my fillyfriend who is over there. Your mind and body should be one complete and whole being.”

I narrow my eyes at him a bit while secretly thinking that this is all a moot point. Even if Button had his own body, he probably couldn't protect me from a serious assault anyway. He's just a foal with delusions of grandeur.

“Even if I tried to protect you with this body, I doubt I'd succeed,” Button realizes sadly. “Because, not only are you a girl, but you are a unicorn girl which means you're not an earth pony like me. You don't have the strength or stamina to keep up with me.”

I flinch slightly at a sexist comment from him even though I also agree with him deep down. Not being an earth pony is also an undeniable truth. That breed really is tougher and stronger. Button is still a foal but an earth pony foal. He should be stronger than other breeds of his own age.

“Sweetie Belle,” Button brings up as I see light ignite in my body’s eyes as if he just gained a brilliant idea. Attached to it is a look of intense resolve that I'm not sure if I have ever seen in him before. Whatever the reason is, I find it very attractive.

“Yes?” I ask after a moment of silence.

He looks at me squarely and firmly as he requests, “Teach me how to use your magic.”

“Huh?” I am taken aback. “What brought this up all of the sudden?”

“Magic equalizes the playing field,” Button answers. “If I learn how to use that then I can use it to protect you without needing to expose your body to too much danger.”

“Uhhhhhhh,” I say with a look of strong hesitation. There is a factor to his request that he is seriously not considering here.

“Think about it!” Button encourages me. “Size and strength doesn't matter when it comes to magic. I could be shrunken down to the size of a tiny mouse and I'd still be able to chuck a wagon away using my . . . Well, I mean, your magic.” His look shifts to pleading. “So how about it? Will you teach me?”

“I don't think you fully appreciate the full implications of your request,” I warn him. “Mastering magic is incredibly difficult for a unicorn. For most of my life, I couldn't even lift one little broom.”

“But you didn't have access to my determination!” Button argues with a fiery passion to my body’s eyes and voice. “I do!”

This is absurd! He has no idea how severely difficult of a request he's making of me. Mastering even the fundamentals of magic is incredibly difficult to begin with but he's telling me he wants to learn how to use it for actual combat.

Well, that's Button Mash, alright. Always setting the bar so ridiculously high that no pony has a realistic chance to accomplish it. Not even him.

My eyes shift to my right as I realize that, then again, I certainly have seen some ponies accomplish what others thought was impossible. Discord, for example, most ponies thought was untamable but Fluttershy rose to the challenge and accomplished what no pony thought she could. Maybe I shouldn't be too quick to dismiss unrealistic odds either. Not after everything I've seen in my young life.

I smile at him as I realize I privately admire him for at least being willing to reach for such a lofty goal. No matter the odds, I know he's doing this for my sake and I do find that deeply touching.

“Well, okay, if I have the time,” I offered. “But consider this: If we're confronted with actual danger, how about we both act against it?”

“Huh?” Button asks me with a tilt of my body’s head.

“I think we should both not overestimate ourselves,” I warn. “We're foals. There's no getting around that until we actually grow up. While I might have a more mature body for the moment, my mind is still that of a little filly. The smartest thing for us to do, if we're confronted by real danger, is to gallop away and call for an adult.”

Button thinks about that then nods my head as he says, “Agreed, but what if we can't? What if the exit is blocked or something? If we have to fight, I want to establish our priorities in advance.”

In that case, you'd probably cry helplessly, but I won't rub that in right now. He's being serious with me and I have to respect that no matter what I actually believe will happen.

And, besides, I find this side of my coltfriend really attractive!

“If it turns out we can't gallop away, then I think it's wise to realize that our opponents are facing two of us, not just one,” I point out emphatically before shaking my head. “There is no way to solve the dilemma that you presented earlier if you face it on your own. While I will admit that I am attracted to the mere idea that you're so invincible that you can easily thwart any bad guy in front of us, I have to be realistic. Right now, I'm more prepared for danger but I think we should remember that we're in this together as a couple.”

I shake my head as I go on to say, “Every aspect that you were worried about earlier is equally valid for me. Do you think I enjoyed seeing your real body in the hospital while you are drained of color and your cutie mark is missing? No! So neither would I allow you to face danger alone if we had to confront it.

“So I make this counter-proposal: Instead of choosing whether to defend my mind or my body, why not choose both? Even if those two things are separated right now, so are we. We are two separate ponies and we can make twice the impact if we act together,” I say as I bring my forehooves together. “This is something I learned by working with the Crusaders a long time ago. We are much more powerful if we work as a team.” I shrug. “Why can't we do the same? That seems fair considering we're a couple anyway. That means we are on the same team . . . right?”

Button sighs as he looks down. I can see his manly pride is getting in the way a bit. He wants to be the sole hero in such a hypothetical scenario but he also wants me to be happy. I just declared how we can make me happy which is forcing him to seriously reconsider this.

“Well . . . okay, I guess,” Button eventually accepts as he looks back at me. “That does sound like a reasonable compromise. I must admit that, in my determination to protect you, I didn't consider how guilty you'd feel if I died or got injured defending your honor. I've been asking you to endure that for my pride and I guess that is a little selfish of me. I can't help it. It's just a habit.

“But the proposal you gave also increases the odds of success. Two ponies acting against a common enemy instead of just one? Yeah. I'm down for that.” He tilts my body’s head down while still looking at me as he says, “But, in exchange for accepting your proposal, you teach me everything you can about using your horn. Deal?”

I look to the side as I muse aloud, “Earlier, Scootaloo was encouraging me to learn flying lessons from Ocellus because this might be a temporary opportunity.” I look back at him. “I suppose you're in the same boat. Even if you don't master combat magic yet, which is something even I haven't mastered, by the way . . . at least you'd know what it feels like to channel magic at all.” I shake my head. “I don't want you to go on living with the regret that you didn't take full advantage of this temporary opportunity, so I'm game.”

Button looks out the exit of the shop and asks, “Speaking of Ocellus, are you sure it was wise to dismiss her like that?” He looks back at me. “She's the only changeling in town that you can trust and watch out for you.”

“Her friends came to us, remember?” I remind him then I shake my head. “It's not fair to hoard Ocellus all the time. Her friends miss her too, and she has her own life to live. If I said no and kept her here then I'd feel even more guilty than I already do.” I smile as I look at the exit. “I'm sure she's having a great time with her friends even as we speak. That's fair and just what she deserves.”

I focus back on Button as I add, “Besides, as we pointed out earlier, I still have you and Rarity to look after me in the meantime.”

“True,” Button agrees with a half-grin. “As a good friend, we have to give her the freedom to be happy.”

“Exactly!” I agree wholeheartedly.

“Finished with the design!” my sister calls elsewhere from within the Boutique from a distance. “Now I just need about an hour to craft it.”

“Take your time, Rarity,” I call back to my sister. “I know how important it is to you for you to get things just right.”

“Oh, I know!” my sister enthusiastically agrees then proceeds to start singing while she's sewing.

Meanwhile, Button and I look at each other then giggle mirthfully.

It really is good to share this warm moment with my coltfriend and sister. Thanks to that, the coldness inside my chest temporarily abates.

Author's Note

*Note: This chapter has earned the story the "drama" genre tag.

I got to admit, the genre tag above didn't occur to me when I initially wrote this chapter. However, upon re-reading it and doing some touch-ups, I realized there is a lot of emotion in this chapter. Enough to warrant the drama tag.

This particular chapter also defends and augments the "gender-bend" and "psychological" tags. My editor liked it too because of this chapter's more complex social dynamics.

And yay! Button finally gets more time in the spotlight here.

But what did you think? Please let me know.

Until this year, I actually didn't know that the first of January is always a week after Christmas. Huh. Learn something everyday.

So anyway . . .

Chapter 24: Acceptance

As I observe the Crusaders clubhouse from the base and from a bit of a distance, I attempt to pull the hood of my cape up but it gets snagged because this hood has a sleeve in it which conceals my new twisted horn. With a grunt of frustration, I sit down and attempt to fiddle with it using my forehooves. Normally I'd use my magic for this but this changeling magic feels tainted.

It takes me several minutes of fighting this but I finally succeed. After that, I breathe a brief sigh of relief for a second but I become frustrated again when I realize that this is simply another reminder of the struggles I have to endure these days. In so many ways, sometimes subtle ways, this darn body keeps fighting me and reminding me that it's different.

I frown even further when I realize that removing the hood doesn't make much of a difference to my tactile sensation. I removed the hood specifically so I could feel the wind on my face but this accursed chitin armor face has very few nerve endings in them. I suppose it may also mean that this kind of hide serves as a decent defense but, right now, it feels more like a cage that I am trapped in. To be mostly unable to feel the wind on my face, the warmth of the sun, the gentle caress of a pony's touch . . .

The cold emptiness within me sinks deeper and now I'm starting to even further realize why. If this is how changeling bodies are physically designed then no wonder it raised their society with a sense of disconnection. Chitin armor is very tough and it serves to keep hostile things at bay, but the constantly raised defenses also means keeping everything else at bay as well, including the good things. Even physically, there is no warmth or connection. It subconsciously trains every changeling to have an inherit warriors mentality.

Now, I can't speak for the experience of a reformed changeling body. They still seem bug-like but their society also seems considerably more open.

Or, at least, that is the impression I've gotten from Ocellus.

The new changelings also seem far more warm and honest. It wouldn't surprise me if their more colorful, reformed bodies are also far more sensitive to touch sensations. That kind of sensation would condition such a society to feel more vulnerable but also more inviting. Because each of them is less tough, they need each other more to compensate for the difference. That closeness and bonds, in turn, serves to eliminate their natural changeling hunger. Instead of feeding on love like they used to, they replaced that need with a more regular diet of normal food and water because their original needs are being well met by this new system.

Of course, both reformed and unreformed changeling bodies can change their forms at will. The physical sensation they gain from that likely depends on the form they take.

Unfortunately for me, however, I haven't figured out how to get this accursed body to change shape at all. That means I'm still stuck with the form I have.

Worse, it's serving to distance me from the things I really care about and the source of my strength. I came here in the first place to feel a bit closer to my friends and old life. Now I've come this close but the remaining gap feels impassible which ultimately serves as a taunt. If it is just my club sisters up there then I wouldn't have hesitated to approach. But, as it stands, they are with a client too. If I came up there looking like this then I'd scare the living daylights out of that pony.

“Sweetie Belle? Is that you?” asks a barely audible voice behind me.

Feeling startled, I whip my head about to look over my shoulder in order to identify who this is. When I do so, I notice it is one of our newest clients, the donkey Slow Poke.

Caught off guard by his sudden arrival, I reach for my hood and use it to attempt to hide again. But, just like before when I struggled to get the sleeve of my hood off my crooked horn, I have the same trouble putting it back on.

“There is no need to hide yourself from me, little one,” Slow Poke tells me. “I know what you look like because I overheard Apple Bloom's older sister, Applejack, explain it to Big Macintosh.”

I look back at him with surprise as I ask, “She did? But, then, how did she know?”

Slow Poke shrugs as he guesses, “My guess is it was told by somepony at the Friendship School.” He then gives me a lopsided grin as he goes on to say, “You know, as this information steadily spreads throughout Ponyville, eventually it won't be necessary to hide from anypony at all. Everypony will know already.”

I frown as I look up at the clubhouse as I say, “And, until then, it's safer to lay low. I don't want to startle anypony.” I look down sadly. “And I don't want anypony to see what a monster I've become.”

“Is that the way you see yourself?” he queries.

I shrug as I answer, “That's the image that greets me in the mirror these days.”

Sometimes it's something worse. Sometimes it's not even my reflection anymore but the changeling monster within me.

“Huh,” Slow Poke says behind me in what sounds like amusement mixed with contemplation.

“What?” I snap defensively as I look back at him.

“Well,” he says then pauses as he trots forward a little bit until he sits beside me. “I was just thinking that it seems a little weird to me for a species who can change into anything to also become shallow.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” I continue to ask defensively. “I'm not shallow!”

The donkey beside me shrugs innocently as he says, “If you say so, my dear.”

“I'm not!” I fiercely deny. “I'm not, I'm not, I'm not! You take that back!” I demand.

Instead of that, Slow Poke gives me a patient and understanding look.

I narrow one eye at him irritably as I ask, “What makes you think I am anyway? I'm Sweetie Belle. I'm one of the most accepting ponies in town.”

“You could have fooled me,” Slow Poke disputes. “Because, right now, you’re judging the limits of your potential solely on your new appearance. Why should it matter?”

“Because it would matter to everypony else!” I argue as I fling my forehooves up. “I don't want to startle them and I surely would in this form.”

“Ah!” Slow Poke exclaims with a look of realization. “I see. So it's everypony else who is shallow in this town.” He blinks as he looks forward blankly then shrugs a few seconds later. “Funny. This town seemed more open and accepting to me. I mean, they opened up a new school here in town and the sole purpose of that school is to teach and sponsor friendship and understanding. I've also seen more species than just ponies roaming the streets these days and no pony bats an eye at that. Instead, they just wave hello with a happy smile.”

I shake my head as I say, “Yeah, but . . . the species I'm disguised as now is different. Black changelings are hostile. Everypony else has a good reason for being on their guard against me.”

“A changeling can change,” Slow Poke argues. “It's what they are good at. Likewise, the opinions of a society can change too. We are ever growing and evolving, my dear.”

I stand up and raise my volume at him a bit. “Don't talk to me like that!”

“Like what?” he asks innocently.

“Like that! That condescension. That looking down at me like I'm some little foal.”

“So what are you instead of that?” he asks me with an innocent blink.

“I'm . . . um . . .” I trail off, then snap my gaze forward with a huff. “Shut up!”

Slow Poke chuckles a bit beside me.

“What?!” I snap irritably at him again.

“You're so adorable, my dear.” His smile drops as he looks at me more seriously as he says, “I'm sorry if I offended you. That wasn't my intention.”

I give a low growl while glaring at the donkey beside me a bit then sigh as I suddenly decide to change the subject because I don't want to blow up on him again. I hate it when I do that, and he's one of our new clients besides.

“What are you doing here anyway?” I ask with a bit less irritation in my voice but there is still more in there than I care for.

“What's it look like? I'm here for my Cutie Mark consultation.”

“Oh? It's that time already?” I ask as I look at him curiously. “Well, in that case, go on, then. They are waiting for you.”

Slow Poke shakes his head as he declares, “No need. I'm already consulting one of their members.”

“What? But I, uh . . .” I trail off because I'm not sure how to finish that thought.

He raises an eyebrow at me as he asks me, “You're still a member of the C-M-C, right? You weren't kicked out of the club, were you?”

“No,” I answer simply.

“And do you still consider yourself a Crusader?” he probes further.

I look forward numbly as I answer, “I guess I do.”

“Why the doubt?” he reflects.

“Because my life has been in such flux lately,” I answer. “It makes me uncertain of anything anymore.” I look away from him in shame. “I've even questioned who I am lately.”

“Huh. Sounds like you need the guidance of a Crusader too. Good thing you are one.”

I look back at him with softly searching eyes as I try to figure out where he's going with this argument.

As if to answer my question, he says, “You still know what you got your cutie mark for, right?” To answer, I simply nod. “Then do what you are meant to do. Help me discover my true destiny. If you do, you'll re-connect with yourself as well.”

I blink as I steadily realize he's probably right. In any case, it would at least give me something to do.

“So you have been staying in Ponyville while we help you with your case?” I check.

“Yes,” he answers simply.

“And you've been staying here at the farm and helping out in the meanwhile?”

“Yes.” He then looks at me. “That's country etiquette, my dear. Want a roof over your head and food on the table? Then you have to work for it. Simple as that.” He looks ahead. “And I don't mind helping out. In fact, I enjoy it. I want to earn my keep and Apple Bloom's family seems to understand that innately.” He shakes his head before adding, “They didn't even need to ask about that. They just told me what to do and I did it. They gave me just one hard look for a moment and instinctively realized that I am like them. I am a farmer. They had no qualms about trusting me to feed the pigs or water their garden. A farmer has a bond with the land that can be felt. They didn't have to question if I was one of them.”

“But that's what you did before,” I pointed out. “You were a plum farmer and you said you were good at it. You said you were comfortable at it, yet you still felt unfulfilled somehow?”

He shakes his head beside me as he looks down and says, “I know, right? It doesn't make any sense. How can something that feels so right also feel wrong at the same time?”

I think deeply on the subject for a little while before eventually answering, “It seems to me that you're close to the answer.” His eyes draw to me as I go on to say, “There is nothing wrong with farming to you. That's who you are. The problem is it's no longer enough by itself. There's something more you need. Something you need to add to it.”

“Like what?” he checks.

I shake my head as I answer, “I don't know. I'm still working on that.”

We're silent for a while before he breaks the silence as he says, “I see.”

I look at him sharply as I ask with a bit of a renewed edge in my voice, “See what?”

“That there are multiple things you are trying to work out,” he answers. “Circumstances have changed for you and it's turned your world upside down except, now, you're finally trying to return to your roots.”

I blink with equal parts curiosity and confusion. His statement has got me very intrigued.

“What do you mean by that?” I ask.

“Donkey's like me are old salts of the earth,” he explains. “Donkey's like me like stability and solid foundation. In order to do that, we have to stick close to the roots of our strength. As a farmer at heart, I am patient. Just slow and steady, like my namesake, as I steadily watch, with escalating satisfaction, the fruits of my labor bear fruit. I appreciate seeing that slow accumulation of progress. That fruit tastes all the sweeter when I know how much care, work, and love went into it.”

Slow Poke looks to the north and nods in that direction as he says, “Applejack is the same way. Arguably even more so than the rest of her family. She pours all of her heart and soul into her work. When our eyes meet, we instinctually understand each other.” He shrugs. “That said, she is deeply attached to her fruits in particular. That serves as a loose disconnect since she knows I worked most of my life on plums instead.” He looks back at me as he goes on to say, “But our work ethic itself we totally see eye to eye on. She looks at me and I look at her while we both think with a nod of satisfaction, 'Yeah. You get it. You understand.' We both think that without needing to say it. It's a kinship.”

“What's that have to do with me?” I ask anxiously. It feels a little selfish to me that I circle the conversation right back to me but I have my reasons. My situation feels rather urgent.

Besides, I sense he's onto something.

He glances at me for a second then looks forward again as he answers, “I think you're the same way. You feel lost but you instinctively draw closer to the source of your strength. Case in point . . .” He trails off as he simply nods at the clubhouse ahead. Because of that, I look upon it with longing but also deep contemplation.

“In your heart, you know where you belong,” Slow Poke goes on to say after a short pause. “Likewise, you know who you really are.” I look back at him with a small sense of wonder. “Stop judging things on a superficial level,” he advises in a kind voice. “You're better than that, Sweetie Belle. You see the inner potential of others and help them coax it out. Likewise, you should do that for yourself. Reflect inward, Sweetie Belle.” He looks at me suddenly and sharply as he asks, “Who are you?”

“I'm . . .” I gulp nervously then continue a little more confidently, “I'm Sweetie Belle.”

“And what does that mean to you?” he asks me emphatically.

“That I'm a pony,” I answer.

“Okay,” he says with a nod of acceptance. “What else? Or is that all you see in yourself?”

“No,” I answer simply.

“Then what else?” he challenges. “Who is Sweetie Belle? Who is she?”

“I'm a girl,” I answer. “I am a unicorn. I am a sister. I am a Crusader.”

I see Slow Poke nod at me in acceptance with each thing I list but I also see him continue to watch me as if I'm not finished.

“I am the beloved daughter of Cookie Crumbles and Hondo Flakes. I am a citizen of Ponyville and Equestria.”

He keeps nodding but also watching.

I look up as I think back on my life.

“I am a singer. I am talented and special. I am beloved by many, and likewise, I share that affection in return.”

Tears of happiness and joy rise to my eyes as I likewise notice that the cold emptiness within me evaporates away like black smoke blown away by a gentle breeze.

“I . . . am Sweetie Belle,” I announce after a long pause. I slowly look straight ahead again. “And that means . . .” I pause again for a short moment before shaking my head. “Whatever I want it to mean because I am in control of my destiny.”

Next, I look down at my body as I realize aloud, “And the form I wear doesn't matter any more than the clothes I wear. None of that changes who I am on the inside.”

I smile brightly as I look back up at the sky with tears leaking from my eyes.

“Because my spirit . . . will always be the same. I am formless and timeless. My form, like my destiny, is whatever I decide it to be!” I declare passionately.

Upon that declaration, magic explodes from within me. I feel it projecting from my heart and spirit, and it quickly dawns on me that I've experienced this sensation once before.

I float off the ground in a daze. During that time, I notice my cutie mark has returned. In fact, it has returned brighter than ever! It shines off my flanks while projected in a tiny column of light.

And speaking of light, it radiates all around me. At first it keeps projecting outwards but then it reverses its course. The light starts to gather around me and wrap around me like a cocoon. I see and feel it spiral around me one layer at a time. I feel myself transform and becoming one with my inner light.

I don't exactly know what's happening to me. This is similar but not exactly like my first experience of getting a cutie mark. If anything, it actually feels more intense.

But I'm not afraid. This time I fully trust the process. I surrender myself to it. I settle into and embrace the light welling within me. I let it become me, and I with it.

We are one. Body and spirit. Mind and heart.

I am now balanced.

I am at peace as I become the living embodiment of pure light and love.

I don't know how much time passes like this. It feels like an eternity.

But, eventually, I feel myself cross a tipping point. I feel the light around me crack and shatter like it's an eggshell peeling away. I am being hatched from an egg, reborn anew.

Gradually I feel gravity return to me as I regain that sense of solidity and weight to my new body. My hooves settle back onto the earth very gently. I feel light continue to embrace me from without and within. It holds me steady as I continue to regain my weight as if being extra careful as I regain my balance before fully letting go of me.

“Wha . . . what happened to me?” I ask aloud in a daze.

“Beats me,” Slow Poke answers surprisingly calmly. “But if you ask me, I'd say you finally assumed your true form.”

I did?

I pop my eyes open and look across my body and legs. When I do, I notice that the black, hole-filled body is gone. Instead of that, I behold the welcome sight of my own petite white body.

To double-check, I brush a hoof through my mane and notice it has returned to that familiar two shades of purple.

“I'm . . . me!” I say with stunned shock then repeat with far greater elation, “I'm me again! I'm me, I'm me, I'm meeeeeee!”

I hug myself in ecstatic joy and glee. I giggle happily and bubbly as I fall over because I can't maintain my balance on my hind legs for long.

“You sure are,” the donkey agrees. “Although it's better to say you recalled the fact that you are still you.” He shakes his head while looking down at me. “Changeling bodies are like a blank canvas, my dear. It's up to the artist to decide what is painted on it.”

Still riding from the explosive sense of euphoria, I rise from the earth and leap up in order to glomp the donkey in a tight embrace.

“Thank you!” I cry out with overwhelming joy.

“For what?” he asks me with a confused blink. Other than that, I still feel like he's being unusually calm about this.

“For reminding me who I am,” I tell him. “Thank you.” One foreleg that embraces him pulls back to wipe tears from my eyes as I add, “I needed that.”

Slow Poke looks forward thoughtfully as he considers those words before eventually nodding in acceptance as he says, “You're welcome.”

Finally crawling off of him, I sniffle as I continue to peer very happily at him. I announce, “I'm surprised you're not a teacher. Your very insightful.”

“Teacher?” he muses aloud, then shakes his head. “Nah. My head is not crammed full of numbers and facts. I teach from the heart, kid. All I can share is a life experience.”

“Well, you seem to have a lot to offer,” I note aloud. “I'm sure at least your children look up to you.”

“My what?” Slow Poke asks me sharply as he snaps his head at me suddenly.

My smile fades as I blink at him in surprise. When my mind finally thaws, I say, “But . . . you seemed so good at guiding me that I thought you had children. You don't?”

Slow Poke stares at me blankly for several moments before answering, “Little Lady, I don't even have a wife let alone kids.”

“Really?!” I ask while feeling doubly shocked. “Oh, that's a shame. Why not? You obviously seem like you'd be so good at it!”

A thoughtful look sinks into Slow Pokes eyes as he continues to look at me. Eventually that dazed expression of his drifts forward. A long moment of silence passes between us until he eventually asks me, “You really think so?”

Yet another grand epiphany dawns on me in the space of a few minutes. When I recover from that initial shock, I excitedly declare, “YES! YOU SHOULD TOTALLY DO THAT!”

“Huh,” Slow Poke says as he slowly looks down. “My own family.”

“You should totally do it!” I repeat a bit more calmly. “You can still be a farmer. You can still have that routine, security, and stability. Just add a family into the mix. If you have kids, you have more to help grow. You have more investment into your future and your legacy.

“Honestly, I thought that you had already thought of it. That's why I didn't bring it up earlier.”

Slow Pokes eyes drift back to me. After a moment's hesitation, he asks me, “You really think I should do this?”

“Well, I mean, you don't have to,” I admit, “but I totally think it's a good idea! You can keep your old lifestyle while adding something new to the mix.

“Trust me, being in a family is an adventure on its own. You'll get just the right spice you need to feel fulfilled while holding onto what is dear and familiar to you at the same time.”

“Huh,” he repeats thoughtfully then finally stands up. “You know what, little lady, I think you're right. I'll totally take you up on that suggestion.”

Slow Poke then smiles at me proudly as he says, “You know, the rumors and legends about you Crusaders are totally true. You really do have a knack for this!”

“That's just who I am!” I declare brightly. “I am Sweetie Belle. I am a Crusader. Helping others with their destiny is just what I do.” My bright expression sinks into a fond look so deep that tears start to rise in my eyes. “Thank you for returning the favor.”

Slow Poke sighs as he rubs the back of his neck with a hoof for a second before telling me, “You're welcome.”

Author's Note

So chapter 24 has rolled by and, in my head, a list of checkmarks ticks off one by one of things that have to occur before the ending of this story. By now, quite a number of them have passed so I felt it was time for the main protagonist to make some inner progress and development. For her, it is through the reminder of the sources of her strength and who she is.

Now that you've gotten this far, I got to be honest with you . . . I really had no plans for Slow Poke beyond demonstrating an important aspect of "a day in the life" for Sweetie Belle back when he was first introduced in Chapter 4, A New Client. After I finished that chapter, however, I realized too much emphasis was put on that donkey. If he wasn't meant to be important, perhaps I should have passed that chapter in recap mode.

But I didn't so that was a Chekov's gun. Ever since chapter 4, it's been nagging me in my mind that I should do something important with that character someday, and lo and behold . . . he finally returned. As I wrote this story, that surprised even me.

It turns out he was an innately very wise character, and that wisdom is deeply grounded in a very earthy way. He keeps things simple in a way that hugs close to the roots of truth. That, in turn, was precisely what Sweetie Belle needed to hear.

I'm personally satisfied with the way things turned out with this chapter. He helped her to rediscover herself and her destiny and she helped him find a likely path to greater fulfillment and happiness. That is the Crusadery thing to do.

Chapter 25: Tainted Joy

“What in tarnation is goin' on out here?” Apple Bloom asks in confused irritation as she steps outside of the clubhouse. But, the moment her eyes lock on me, she immediately zips over to the balcony rail around the clubhouse and asks me in astonished excitement, “Sweetie Belle? Is that you?”

“What?!” Scootaloo exclaims inside the clubhouse with sudden and intense interest. “Oh, this I gotta see!”

After proclaiming that, Scootaloo quickly dashes out the exit of the clubhouse and joins beside her yellow earth pony friend.

“Check it out, Scootaloo! It's our good friend Sweetie Belle!” Apple Bloom exclaims excitedly. “An' she's back to normal! Yay!”

Scootaloo literally can't seem to believe her eyes. I see her put her hooves into both of her eyes and twist from side to side as if to rub something out of the way that is distorting her vision. When she looks back at me, I see her eye pupils double in size due to the surprise of continuing to see the same thing she thought she saw earlier.

The third foal to slowly trot out of our clubhouse is a relatively new client we have visiting us from Cloudsdale called Whipersnapper. He's a dark haired and gray coat pegasus that seems to have a lot of confidence issues.

“Yes, fellow Crusaders,” I say with a joyful beam from my face. “It's me!”

“Oh my gosh! Oh my GOSH!” Apple Bloom cries out ecstatically just before both Scootaloo and her race down the platform leading up and down into the clubhouse. They race so close to each other that they almost knock each other over. That is why, for a brief moment, my smile greatly diminishes as I eye them in concern. Despite that, they make it over to me safely in one piece.

Once the two of them arrive at me, Scootaloo just gawks at me, slack-jawed, and Apple Bloom examine me from my hooves to the tips of my ears before attempting to ask, “Sweetie Belle, you . . .?” But she trails off, unable to finish her question due to her excitement that is rising so fast that it's like a cannon ball shot from a canon.

“Yeppers!” I beam happily.

Then, all at once, the three of us suddenly scream in shrill excitement as we claps our hooves onto each of our shoulders and hop up and down in pure joy and excitement.

I honestly don't know how long we continue to do this. My mind kind of spaced out during this moment.

“What in tarnation is goin' on out here?” Applejack asks us as she trots onto this scene with a very pained wince on her face. She ears are strongly pressed flat against her head as she approaches. When she catches sight of me, her painful wince vanishes in an instant. In it's place is intense surprise.

“APPLEjack! Look! Look, look, look!” Apple Bloom cries out ecstatically as she continuously jabs a pointing hoof towards me.

I beam at her happily but my expression quickly twists into confusion when I behold Applejack suddenly regarding me in a tight wince of embarrassment. She actually shows her teeth for a second as she hisses through them before saying to me, “Well hello there . . . Button Mash. How are . . . how are you this fine an' dandy mornin'?”

“Button Mash?” Apple Bloom asks her older sister while looking taken aback. She glances at me for a moment before recalling that Button Mash did switch into my true body earlier. For that, she looks back at her older sister and shakes her head as she denies, “No, no, no.” She stops shaking her head and looks at her older orange earth pony sister steadily as she goes on to say, “This is Sweetie Belle. It's her! It's really, really her!”

“What?!” Applejack exclaims in shock before removing her cowboy hat and pressing it to her chest. “Well Ah'll be a sweet, juicy apple! Is that really you there, Sugar Cube?”

“It's me!” I cry out excitedly. “Its me! It's me! It's meeeeee!”

For about four seconds this time, my excitement evokes another round of shrill, screaming excitement from my club sisters as we each hop up and down. The only difference is, this time, we're not hopping in sync.

“WHOA NELLY!” Applejack cries out to attempt to silence us, and it does work but we're still brimming and quaking with excitement. As she spoke, she returns her hat to her head with one hoof. “Now hold yer horses there, girls. Y'all have some s'plaining tah do here.” The orange farm pony narrows one eye at me a bit as she asks, “Are ya telling me ya are back to normal? Ya got yer body back and Button has his?”

My enthusiasm fades as I open my mouth but I quickly shift my eyes at Scootaloo when she beats me to the punch.

“Well of course, Applejack. Can't you see?” Scootaloo gives a grand gesture towards me. “This is our dear friend Sweetie Belle. She's back to her old self again! Yay!”

“Whoa, there. Easy, Scootaloo,” I express with a note of caution and considerably deflated enthusiasm. “That's not exactly true.”

“Huh?” Scootaloo asks me with one eye tightly winced at me in confusion. “It's not?”

“Ah s'ppose ya should start from thah beginning,” Apple Bloom encourages.

“And, while you're at it, you can explain to us where Slow Poke is going,” Scootaloo adds as she looks at the donkey trotting off and pointing his direction with two jabbing points in a row.

“I'll get to that,” I promise as I look off at the slowly retreating donkey fondly then return my gaze to my club sisters as I tell them, “When it comes to Slow Poke's case with us, the good news is that I think I cracked this one, girls. You see, he and I had a heart to heart talk not much earlier and we helped each other out. He helped me to accept and understand who I am on the inside and I helped him out by suggesting that the one thing that might be missing in his life is raising his own family, but otherwise maintain the job he's so comfortable and good at.”

“Really?” Scootaloo asks me, taken aback. “That's all that was missing in his life?”

I look at Scootaloo in surprise as I tell her, “Family is a big deal, Scootaloo. It can be the greatest adventure of all.”

“Oh, I know,” Scootaloo instantly agrees. “That's not why I'm so surprised. I'm surprised because I had already assumed that element was already in his life. He seemed like the type. A family guy sort of donkey.” She shrugged. “I just assumed he already had a family so I didn't bring that up.”

“I know, right?” I ask Scootaloo with equally intense surprise. “That's what I assumed too! But no. We were wrong. It turns out he doesn't have any wife and kids and it didn't even occur to him to get some.”

“Then ya can add me to the list of surprised fillies as well,” Apple Bloom puts in. “Ah, too, just assumed he had that base covered.”

“What's all this haff'tah do with ya getting your old body back?” Applejack asks in continued confusion.

“I was getting to that,” I exasperate. “Anyway, as I said earlier, this is not my true body still. I'm still trapped in that same changeling body. The only difference is it has finally assumed my old form for some reason.”

“Huh.” Applejack scratches the side of her head while giving me what at first looks like a weird look but it quickly shifts to neutral acceptance. “Well, ya are in a changeling body. They sorta specialize in changing their shape so Ah guess this makes sense.”

My gaze transfers from Applejack to the ground as I go on to admit, “Well, about that, the thing is . . . I don't know how I did it.” Now I look between my club sisters. “And that's not all. Before I attained this new form, which is ironically my old form, I underwent a transformation process that I have encountered only one other time . . . and that is the time I got my cutie mark.”

“Really?!” Scootaloo and Apple Bloom ask me simultaneously before Scootaloo went on to encourage, “Do tell! Spill the beans, Sweetie Belle! Give us all the juicy details!”

“Yeah!” Apple Bloom agrees with a very enthusiastic nod. After that, she continuously hops up and down as she encourages me excitedly, “Tell us! Tell us!”

“Um,” I pause as I gather my thoughts. I wince as I look up while tapping my bottom lip with a hoof before returning my gaze to my club sisters as I ask them, “Do you remember how we got our cutie marks and how it felt when we got them? Do you two remember the sparkles and the glow-y magic as we floated off the ground?”

“Yeah!” Apple Bloom answers with continued enthusiasm. “How can we forget that?”

“Well it happened again!” I tell them as the size of my eye pupils suddenly doubles when I mention the word “again”. After that, my eyes shrink about halfway back to normal as I continue to report in an awed tone, “Except it was more intense this time! My cutie mark shined like a column of light. I floated off the ground and felt myself in the center of explosive light, but it didn't hurt. Then, after that, the light closed in on me and wrapped around me like a cocoon. I don't know how long that lasted but I eventually floated back down to the ground. When I finally looked at myself, I looked like this!” I cry out excitedly. “I can't WAIT to see myself in a mirror again!” When I spoke that last sentence, my voice squeaked excitedly when I cried out the word, “wait”. Then I go on to say, “I missed this version of me so very much!”

Apple Bloom's expression sinks into a deeply fond look at me as she tells me, “We missed ya like this too, Sweetie Belle.”

“Yeah! Totally!” Scootaloo agrees then points at Apple Bloom while continuing to regard me. “What she said.”

“Ah'm still a little lost, though,” Applejack put forward. “Ya already got yer cutie mark. Why would ya go through that transformation magic a second time?” She examines me carefully as she asks, “Ya do have the same cutie mark . . . right?”

“Yeah. Totally,” I confirm as I twist to the side and show off the left side of my flank. Then I explain, “I, ah . . . I guess that the transformation sequence happened again because this is a new body. New body but same soul.” I look at my club sisters again as I elaborate, “And same internal magic within me I guess.”

“Wait. Time out.” Scootaloo sits down and crosses her forehooves into a lower case T before asking, “Can changelings even get a cutie mark?”

“Changelings can assume any form they want,” Whipersnapper called out in the background. The moment we look at him, I suddenly recall, with a small thread of embarrassment, the fact he was here. When he draws our united attention, including the legendary Element of Honesty, the gray pegasus cringes shyly as he subconsciously covers his body with a gray wing and mumbled almost too quietly to hear, “But, like, you know . . . whatever.”

“Ah, well . . .” Scootaloo looks back at me. “He does have a point. Changelings can pretend to have any cutie mark they darn well please.”

“Yeah, I guess,” I concede with a more neutral expression before I go on with a more insistent tone, “But I'm telling you, girls, this is different. I had that exact same feeling like the day I first got my cutie mark except it was somehow more intense. Also, do you know of many changelings who float off the ground slowly while they transform?”

“Ah suppose ya got a point there, Sugar Cube,” Applejack agrees. “The plum tucker of the matter is that we ponies don't know one heck of a lot when it comes to changelings, though Ah do get the impression that they feel the same way. Yes 'em.” She nods emphatically. “The true potential of changelings may have been kept from them deliberately.” She looks to her side. “Though, from what Ah 'eard from Starlight, they did float off the ground as they transformed into some kind of magic cocoon when they first got reformed.” Applejack looks back at us as she goes on to add, “'Re-formed' in thah literal sense, Ah s'pose 'n this case.”

Following that statement, we look at each other with a mystified expression before Scootaloo shrugs and says, “Well, Sweetie Belle may have a changeling body right now but she has a pony soul. Maybe the two just sorta mixed during that moment.” Her confidence in her own words fades as she mumbles quietly, “Kinda. Sorta. I guess.”

“Now hang on there. Ya might be right,” Apple Bloom accepts with greater confidence. “Sweetie Belle here is a pony in mind, soul, and heart. Ah wouldn't find it far fetched tah believe that her magic is as well. What 'appened 'ere may simply be the culmination of the two magical forces in her body clashing and mixing.” She looks at me squarely as she says, “When ya finally accepted this body and who ya are as a pony inwardly, then that body simply had no choice but to deliver what ya expected to see and felt like inside,” she says with a gesture to her chest, then shrugs. “Ma guess is that's exactly how changeling magic works anyhow.”

“Yeah!” I agree. “That makes a lot of sense.”

“Well burn ma biscuits!” Applejack cries out excitedly as she pulls off her hat and uses it to slap her knees. “Just color me pink and tickle me raw! Ah guess y'all solved this here problem. Ah . . . sorta,” she finishes with deflated enthusiasm as she returns her hat to her head. “Anyhow, hey Sweetie Belle!” She draws my attention. “Ya should give your sister 'n parents the excit'n news! Ah know yer parents are just mighty anxious to see ya again. They've been asking for ya at school practically all day now.”

“They . . . have?” I say with a little surprise but mostly spooked look.

“Why Ah'm sure as gravy,” Applejack assures me. “Ya should gallop on over to their place and . . .” She trails off when she notices my expression. Concern sinks into her face as she prompts, “What's wrong, Sugar Cube? Be honest now. Ya hear?”

I close my eyes in a painful wince as I think back.

“GET OUT OF OUR HOUSE NOW, YOU FILTHY MONSTER!” I recall my father roared at me.

“Please, good sir, please take pity on us! Please tell us where Sweetie Belle is and what you've done with her,” my mother sadly pleaded with me. “She's our precious little girl. I'll do anything you say. Anything! Do you want my love for her? Then take it!”

After that, I recalled the horrifying moment when I hissed at them in reflexive changeling hunger. That, more than anything, drove me to panic because it seemed to prove that I was indeed the monster they feared me to be.

I open my eyes slowly as they shimmer with tears. I shake my head slowly as I finally say, “No. I'm not ready to face them yet.”

The fillies and the mare in the immediate vicinity all gasp at me simultaneously. After that, Apple Bloom goes on to say, “But y'all are family! An' there ain't nothin' more important than family! Family stick tah'gether like . . . like . . .” She looks up as she thinks for a second before looking back at me with an enthusiastic nod as she concludes, “. . . like sticky syrup mixed with strawberry jam!”

“NO!” I cry out as I close my eyes tightly and shake my head fiercely. “I'm not ready to face them yet. As in . . . I'm not emotionally ready.”

I open my eyes slowly as I look down with a vision that is definitely blurred with tears now as I say, “Trust me . . . I'll be ready someday. Probably even very soon. They are my parents and I love them to death. I just . . . I just need a little more time before I'm ready to face them.”

The silence around us is deafening for a moment before I break it by looking up at Applejack and request her, “Applejack . . . is it alright if I stay the night here with Apple Bloom? I mean . . . I'm standing on the farm anyway right now so I'm practically there already.”

In response, Applejack just stares at me with a look of sympathy crossed with reluctance. She stares at me quietly as she mulls this over carefully.

“Please, Applejack?” I beg as I bat my eyes at her. “Pretty please?”

“If she says no, you can stay at my place if you like,” Scootaloo offers. “There's not much there, though. As you know, I don't have extra furniture but you can sleep with me on my bed if you like.”

“Or you can sleep at your sisters,” Apple Bloom counter proposes. “Ya know she can set you up. Ya already been with her for a few days.”

Looking back at Applejack, I notice her regard the other Crusaders as if taking their offer into account. This probably causes her to realize that, even if she says no to my request, I'd only fall back on the other offers.

This realization causes Applejack to look down sadly and sigh. After a few seconds she looks back up at me sympathetically as she tells me, “Alright, Sugar Cube. Just for tonight.”

I suddenly beam at Applejack as I cry out to her, “Really? Oh thank you! Thank you!”

I was about to rush forward to embrace her for a hug until I see Applejack lift a hoof as a halting gesture to stop me as if she has more to say.

“Well hold on there, Nelly. Hold yer horses,” Applejack tells me. “Ah do have a favor to ask in exchange for this favor.” Her eyes shift to her right sharply as something else occurs to her. She says, “Actually two favors.”

“Okay,” I tell her numbly while still staring at her. I want to hear her out before I agree to anything. “Go on,” I bid her.

Applejack says, “First of all, Ah'd lahk yer permission to tell yer parents that ya're here and that ya're okay.” Her look shifts to a pleading one as she goes on to ask, “Is that okay with ya, Sweetie Belle?”

“That is fair,” Apple Bloom agrees. “A parent would be sick with worry if they thought something was wrong with their foal. Ya don't want ya parents to be sick with worry for ya anymore, right? Ah know you, Sweetie Belle. Ya don't want anypony to suffer.”

“Yes, yes,” I agree a little irritably but, deep down, I kind of feel relieved that Applejack is offering to do this for me. This will probably also smooth things out for me later.

And I think I know what she'll request next, too.

“You have my permission to tell my parents that I am now okay,” I tell Applejack. “But be honest with them. Also tell them how and why things aren't completely back to normal.”

“Ah make it a policy to always be honest, Sugar Cube,” Applejack tells me with a bit of a fond look in her eyes towards me. “That's why Ah want to share this news with yer parents. That, an' the fact that Ah don't want them to worry.” She looks at her little sister as she adds, “Ah know how Ah'd feel if Apple Bloom was missing. There ain't no stone Ah'd un-turn until Ah'd find my precious little sister again is she went all up an' missing.”

“You made your point!” I snap irritably. “I said yes. Now go on and make your second request. Ask me to confront my parents tomorrow and make up with them already.”

Applejack's eyes snap back at me from looking at Apple Bloom as she agrees, “That's exactly right. 'n exchange fer granting ya this favor, Ah want ya to be open and honest with yer parents face to face.” She applies a hoof to her chest as she says, “Ah don't mind talking to 'em tonight and buttering 'em up for ya, but in exchange, ya have to face them tomorr'ah-like. Ya hear?”

“Are you sure it's okay to pressure her into this this soon?” Scootaloo asks with concern.

I sigh and shake my head as I say, “It's okay, girls. It's fine. Applejack is right. I have to do this sometime and part of me does want to. I'm only hesitating because of the pain and fear I feel deep inside.” I look at Apple Bloom. “But you're right, too. I'm not the kind of pony who likes it when others suffer. If they are truly suffering right now then I want to put an end to it as soon as possible.” My eyes blur with love as I add, “Besides, I love them dearly. That's never going to change no matter how much pain I'm in.”

Apple Bloom nods in acceptance as she says, “That's family for ya. We stick tah'gether through thick and thin. Through the best of times and the worst of times. Family is the final safety net that will always have yer back.”

Out of the corner of my eyes, I notice Scootaloo looking down with a brief frown for that comment.

“So ya agree?” Applejack double checks with me.

I look at the orange farm pony as I promise to her, “Yes, Applejack. As you request, I'll see my parents tomorrow. I pinkie promise.”

“In that case, I'd like to request to stay here tonight as well,” Scootaloo put in towards Applejack. “I want to be here to support my friend during her time of need.” Scootaloo brightens. “Besides, having a slumber party here tonight sounds fun! I think we could all use the good cheer and to celebrate Sweetie Belle taking one step closer to being normal again.”

“Well,” Applejack applies a hoof to her hat and presses it down further on her head a bit as she gives Scootaloo a bit of a reluctant look before agreeing, “Alright, Sugar. Ah'll allow ya to stay here as well but keep one thing in mind; y'all still have school'n tomorr'ah. Don't stay up too late.”

“Ooo! That reminds me!” Apple Bloom looks at me brightly which draws my attention to her. “Are ya going to join us at school tomorrow? Ah mean . . ya might as well since yer mostly back to normal.”

“And you don't have to hide in that stupid cloak anymore either!” Scootaloo adds cheerfully.

I frown as I say, “Well . . . I don't know. I still haven't mastered my new body yet. I don't want to run the risk of transforming back in the middle of class.” I look down and to the right as I add with a guilty expression, “Besides, my special somepony can't attend class either with how he is.” I look back up at my friends. “That's why I agreed to join him as he gets homeschooled by his mother.”

“Really?” Scootaloo asks with a doubtful squint. “Cream Heart is going to be the teacher?”

I grin as I tell her, “Recently I've gotten to know the two of them better in their home. I learned how much of a pain Button can be and how much his mother has to put up with. Because of that, I've also learned it isn't wise to underestimate his mother's talent. Cream Heart is a very surprisingly capable pony. Probably because she has to be.”

Because of what I said and the way I say it, we three Crusaders have a merry giggle together. As we do that, happiness and peace settle into my heart. It feels so nice to return to a semblance of normal.

And I thought I had it rough with everything I do on a daily basis such as getting up, going to school, attending school then spend about another four to seven hours Crusading with my best friends in an attempt to help ponies either re-connect or discover their destiny in the first place.

But Apple Bloom! Poor Apple Bloom! On top of everything else I just thought to myself, she has to do daily chores as well. She does most of those in the morning and she gets up earlier to do exactly that. I don't envy her for that. Today, for example, she has a few more chores to do around the house. I can't believe the workload Apple Bloom has, but she is beyond just accepting it. Apple Bloom even seems to enjoy it. I feel forced to chalk that up to her innate earth pony stamina. I envy that sometimes.

But since the rest of us are here, both Scootaloo and I volunteer to aid Apple Bloom with her chores so it can be done faster. Her older sister has no qualms about this if we accept it as long as the chores are done and done right.

Like everything else we do together, we made a game out of it. Sometimes we even sing as we do it. This, in turn, greatly reduces the tedium of the activity. We actually do have a lot of fun and we appreciate the accomplishment. That's good sweat off our brow but it has to be done and we did it! We are the champions! Hooray!

After we're done with the chores, we wash off our bodies with a spray of a garden hose. Like everything else, we have fun with this. Applejack actually sprays the water upwards and tightens the nose of the hose so it sprays mist above us which rains down. My club sisters and I splash and play in the muddy ground. We giggle and laugh as we wrestle with each other. We also play a modified game of tag where we have to stay within the radius of the falling water. We can't hide in an area that small so the challenge is to avoid being “it” for as long as possible through galloping away and outmaneuvering.

I love this! Moments like this are unforgettable to me. Playing and splashing around with my best friends . . . they surely do complete me. We are in such great sync and harmony with each other despite also being very distinct individuals. I wouldn't trade moments like this for any other in the world.

But, today, my joy is tainted by my fears and my guilt. I know that evil changeling is out there and hatching an evil scheme. I've known plenty of bad guys who made the claim that they would attempt to take over Equestria or perhaps even the whole world, but this changeling is the first I've ever encountered to claim he already secretly accomplished that and it scares the daylights out of me because it makes me feel that innocent days like this are going to end. No more joy for my friends and I. Just endless toil and sorrow.

It's crazy to realize there is a possibility that my best friends that I am playing with today may secretly be changeling spies themselves and even they don't know it. What if their real bodies are floating in some kind of slime cocoon while their minds have been implanted into changeling clones?

This thought unnerves me and makes me feel a little guarded deep down even though I also realize there are very low odds of this being true. The nameless changeling within me claimed I was targeted simply because I was a convenient target at one time and my young mind made it easier to perform certain experiments. But, on the other hoof, the changeling is ultimately more interested in greater strategic targets. The Elements of Harmony themselves are far more likely targets rather than their little filly sisters.

Another thing that bothers me is prospect of facing my parents again. My pain makes me scared to face them, but I know I have to do this. I can't let them suffer much longer. That's just not the kind of pony I am.

Still another thing that bothers me is knowing Button Mash still isn't in his own body, and I'm the one that originally dragged him into this. As elated as I am to kind of have my body back, it doesn't feel right to be totally thrilled with that fact while Button is suffering, and like Apple Bloom said, I am the kind of pony who can't accept things like that easily. One way or another I have to make this up to him, but how?

Hmm. Maybe my club sisters and I can come up with some bright ideas if we brainstorm this together.

Together . . . ah! It feels so good to be doing this out in the open again. Whatever else may still be a pill lately, I know that single fact makes me one step closer to being whole again.

Author's Note

I think the only thing that might be surprising to readers of this chapter is Sweetie's feelings and decisions about her parents.

Chapter 26: The Room

This is not fair! My sister has way longer legs than me! How am I supposed to keep up in a race at this rate?

Gah! I can't wait till I become an adult pony! Then no pony will tell me what to do and I'd actually have a fair shot at winning games like this.

“Sweeeeeetie Beeeeeeeeeeelle!” my sister calls from far ahead of me in a teasing voice from somewhere beyond the mists of Winsome rainbow waterfalls. “I'm going to beat you!” she practically sings. “Better hurry up, slowpoke.”

Slowpoke? Where have I heard those words before? It sounds very recent, too.

“Sweeeeeetie Beeeeeeeeeeelle,” my name is called again but this time in much closer proximity, and it is said in a far more sinister way. It seems like a gruntal voice and spoken along with a dozen other voices speaking in unison. All I know for sure is that voice, or voices, was spoken from somewhere on the other side of the waterfall. When I pause to look, I notice that there is a cave behind the waterfall that I apparently never realized was there before.

“Come hither, young one,” the sinister voice says. “Darkness awaits thee. We have much to discuss.”

I widen my eyes as I suddenly realize who this is. That must be the voice of the changeling whose body I am now inhabiting. But if I'm hearing it right beside me then that must mean this is a dream.

“Come on, Sweetie Belle! What's taking you so long?” I hear the voice of Scootaloo calling from way ahead of me. In fact, it is so far ahead of me that I can't see her at all.

“Come,” the sinister voice bids me again.

I sigh because I want to play with my friends but I now know they are not really here. This is a dream. However, the changeling hidden in my mind really is a real person. He's the only one who has real feelings in here besides myself. I better not disappoint him.

With a bit of reluctance, I trot into a narrow opening between the wet cave and the rainbow waterfall. As I venture further into the darkness that lies beyond, I light up my horn to help provide some illumination for me. Because of it, I see a globe of light spread beyond me up to a range of about a ten feet bubble around me. Within that area, I see the soft green light of my aura color. However, beyond that, it is still absolute pitch black except for the cave wall itself and, even then, I can see it only if it enters the radius of my globe of light. It is as if I am surrounded by a magical globe of darkness and only the area of illumination I am casting is pushing it back.

This is why I pause and scream, startled, when the changeling I am seeking emerges from the darkness. He did not approach me. Rather, he just stood there as my globe of light finally catches up to him. I am startled because there was no warning prior to that. There wasn't even the dimmest hint of him being there until the radius of my light passes through him. Even then, I only see exactly the parts of him that my light covers.

Until he takes a step forward. Doing so causes his head to emerge from the blackness around me. I now see the whole front side of him but not the back. He did not step forward from the darkness enough to see his entire form.

For some reason I can't put my hoof on, he is looking at me with anger.

“What . . . what do you want with me?” I ask him fearfully.

For a brief second, he glares at me with even tighter anger before he spins about and downright commands me, “Come with me. I need to show you something.”

“Ah . . . okay,” I say timidly then move to follow him.

Eventually we reach the other side of the cave wall. Attached to it is a curious wooden door built into it for some reason. He opens this door and steps beyond without hesitation. I can't say the same for myself. I do hesitate before the threshold of the door.

“Now, Sweetie Belle!” he growls harshly.

“Okay!” I cry out fearfully then rush through the door. Once I am through, the door suddenly slams shut behind me, hard! Once again I screech, startled, and look behind me as I pull my tail close to my body. I was afraid that the door closed so quickly that it caught my tail, but apparently, it didn't.

“Welcome to . . . The Room!” the changeling host announces to me.

“The Room?” I echo questioningly as I look around. What I am seeing is we seem to be between an alley of four buildings. I am seeing the corners of each building but little beyond that. We are surrounded by what appears to be night except there are no stars. There are also four curved lampposts between the gaps of the buildings. They spill light into this area with about twenty feet of strong illumination and another twenty feet of dim illumination. Between the four lights, they cover this entire area but not very well, especially in the middle of this area.

This doesn't appear to be a “room” at all. Rather than that, we seem to be somewhere outside. I even call him out on that.

“Why do you call this, 'The Room'? We're clearly standing outside.”

“Actually, we're still in a dream,” the changeling announces, “but this is a special dream. This is a part of my mind sectioned off for special training.” He turns to face me. “Whatever I want here goes. This is a special part of my subconscious that I have precise control over. When I put it in modify mode, I can change anything I want in here.”

He narrows his eyes at me with a look of cunning and evil viciousness as he goes on to announce, “However, when I lock this room down after editing it, the parameters I put in place become set. More to the point, this section of my mind simulates waking reality with extremely precise detail other than any factor I change. So, in other words, in here the environment will react in a way that is totally realistic to the waking world. The same kind of gravity, weather, lighting . . . everything. Also, your own 'virtual' body will behave totally realistically here. You'll sweat, you'll bleed, your breath will quicken if you work out, your blood will seem to pump. You'll feel every scratch and wound in here with perfect realism. It's almost exactly like the real world aside from the fact it can be too easily edited, but only when I put it in edit mode.”

“That's . . . fascinating. And weird,” I reply. “Why are we standing here? Why did you invite me in here?”

In response, he looks about as he says, “We're going to use this Room for the same purpose that I use it for. We're going to train and train hard.”

“Train?” I ask while taken aback. “Why? What for?”

He growls at me hatefully before he announces, “We're doing this because you have given me no choice.” He snaps his gaze back at me harshly when he growls, “You've changed my form, Sweetie Belle. My original self is bound to notice soon.”

I wince at him as I ask, “Is that a bad thing?”

His expression softens a bit as he answers, “Not if we train. I now need to teach you how to use your shapeshifting abilities in order to explain how you achieved what you did because he is not going to believe the truth. At least, not at first.”

“Truth? What truth?” I query.

He widens one eye and vaguely seems to lift an eyebrow, if he had an eyebrow that is, at me as he asks me, “Do you even realize that your last eight sentences in a row were nothing but a question to me?”

I look surprised as I ask, “Really? You kept track of all that?”

“That's now ten questions in a row, and yes! I keep track of these things because I like to be precise. Precise enough to strive for perfection even if it isn't a truly attainable goal.

“And, as far as the truth that I'm talking about, I take it you don't even fully realize what you have done to me so I'll spell it out for you as clearly and concisely as I can.

“Sweetie Belle . . . you didn't just change my form to match yours . . . but rather you changed my true form to match yours!”

My eyes explode wide in shock as I exclaim, “What?! Really?!”

He nods at me as he verbally confirms, “Yes, Sweetie Belle, and that's now twelve questions you asked in a row.”

He stands up straight and stiffens his back as he announces, “What you have done to my body my true self will consider too unlikely to occur. Rather than that, he'll think you finally mastered my shapeshifting powers all on your own. We need to feed into that suspicion before he grows more tempted to investigate our situation more thoroughly. If he does that, he might discover that I am actually alive within you and guiding you from within. If that happens then he'll strategize and prepare countermeasures against anything I plan against him. Considering he has more resources to work with already, I can't let that happen. It would be strategically devastating for us.”

I close my eyes and shake my head as I say, “Wait, wait, wait. Time out here.” I stop shaking my head then open my eyes to look back at him as I ask, “What do you mean I changed your true form? How?”

“I'm not certain of the answer to that question,” he admits. “It might have something to do with the cross between a pony mind and magic mixed with my changeling abilities. What you have done to me is akin to what the rest of the hive have done to themselves when they 'reformed',” he says with hoof quotes and a hint of disgust. “A big difference here is, instead of changing into a colorful bug-dear, you transformed into what you perceived as your natural form. Because of that, my body has actually become your perception of your natural form. In other words . . . it is now our new base form. The form we'll always return to when we're not shapeshifting into anything else.”

I become slack-jawed. I can no longer speak right now because I am too stunned.

The changeling growls at me again as he asks me in an accusing tone, “Now do you understand the weight and gravity of your crimes here? Because of you, Sweetie Belle, because of you . . . I can no longer fully go back to the way I was. That kind of transformation is a once-in-a-lifetime deal. That new base form is now permanent, Sweetie Belle! You've now stolen something from me that I can never get back again and I hate you for it!”

“I . . . I'm sorry!” I apologize sincerely. “I didn't know that would happen or could happen!”

He growls at me even more hatefully as he yells, “DON'T APOLOGIZE TO ME, YOU MISERABLE LITTLE URCHIN! I DON'T NEED YOUR PATHETIC PITY!” He snaps his gaze away from me this time. “It's done! Now we have to prepare for the consequences of your actions. That's why I invited you here tonight.”

“I, ah . . . I don't get it! Are we still a changeling at all or something else?” I question a bit frantically.

He looks at me off the corner of his eye as he says, “Now that's the interesting part. To change one's base form crosses several thresholds that normally our race cannot cross. At least, not in any lasting way.” He turns his head to look at me more fully. “For example, because of your perception of your true form, you have effectively regressed our true age. Physically speaking, our true form now matches that of a foal that you perceived yourself to be. Because of that, you have actually extended our maximum lifespan just this once.”

“Oh wow!” I ask while my eyes remain wide. “I didn't know.”

He narrows his eyes at me a bit as he goes on to say, “Far more important, however, is the fact you have now added a true gender to a form that was supposed to lack one.” He waves a hoof. “I'm strictly talking about our base form in this case, not any form we temporarily assume.” His hoof returns to the ground. “Which, in this case, is female, obviously.”

“Wait a second!” I gasp. “Does that mean we can now have babies in our base form? Does this solve your species population problem?” I smile brightly as I ask, “What if I accidentally solved the problem that would have caused your species’ eventual extinction? Your species needed somepony to replace Queen Chrysalis in that role. What if we can now use my form to accomplish that?”

The changeling nods as he says, “That's a distinct possibility, although that raises a few other questions such as are you truly capable of breeding? If so, do you require a male to pull that off, unlike Queen Chrysalis? And, if you do have babies, will they be changeling, pony, or some odd mixture of both?”

He waves a hoof off at me as he says, “It might be premature to say you've totally solved our race’s breeding problem but it might be a critical step in the right direction. At the very least, what you've accomplished mirrors what the changeling queen did except she did it on a more consistent basis. She was able to morph her true age up or down at will. That, in turn, is why she was technically ageless. She was also able to morph fertilized eggs inside of her and lay them out as often as she wanted.” He shakes his head. “I sincerely doubt we've achieved a form that can mimic her abilities to that degree but it's still something we can learn from.

“In any case, you certainly do have a unique achievement under your hoof. Our new base form now lacks wings, darn you!” Anger flashes in his eyes for a moment but he quickly simmers down. “But that hardly matters. If we retained our ability to shapeshift then we can gain those wings back at any time and in any way we want.”

He turns his head halfway over his shoulder as he says, “In the meantime . . .”

I follow his gaze to where he is looking. When I do so, I see a bunch of nightmarish creatures emerge from the shadows of the four alleyways around me. They kind of look like reformed changelings except they have the color scheme of their original un-reformed design. Furthermore, they look a bit thin and spindly. Their jaws drop quite a bit which reveals to me many rows of sharp teeth along the bottom and top of their mouth. I quickly realize that they are designed to look scary as well as look like a mockery of that which he considers a mockery himself.

“. . . say hello to your new training dummies tonight,” the changeling finally finishes.

“To what end?” I ask him a little frantically. “How is this supposed to help me master my new powers? All you're managing to do right now is frighten me.”

Since he's still looking at the other emerging threats over his left shoulder, he flashes me an evil grin off to his right side at me as he says, “Sink or swim, my little pony. I'm going to teach you how to master your new powers the same way I did.” His face turns towards me except his head is angled downward. He now views me off the top of his head. “Everything I know is forged in the fires of combat. How can you possibly win a battle when you don't want it more than your opponent? You have got to hunger for it! You've got to hate your enemy more than they do you!”

“What?!” I gasp. “That's crazy talk. I don't want to hate anyone and I certainly don't want to hurt anyone. There has got to be a better way!”

“And what if your opponent, or opponents, gives you no choice?” he asks me sharply. “The opponent we face together is my original self. To say I have some insight into the way his mind works is quite an understatement. I know for a fact he won't give mercy or pity on you just because you're weak! On the contrary, he'd be disgusted with you and consider you unworthy of respect.” He shakes his head. “And, without respect, you have no leverage on any would-be negotiation.”

“But it's because you know him so well that we could . . .” I start to argue but trail off when the crowd of spindly black monsters starts to surround me while salivating. “Stop it!” I cry out to him. “Tell them to back off.”

“No, YOU tell them to back off!” he barks back sharply. “Give them a reason to. Give them the incentive to fear you!”

“I'm not that kind of filly!” I cry back to him desperately.

“Then what kind of filly are you instead of that? The kind who rots as a corpse?” he returns bitingly. “Fight BACK, Sweetie Belle!” He narrows his eyes at me sharply. “It's time you learn that those who are not aggressors are instead the victims.”

“You can't DO this to me!” I cry back as tears fall down my eyes while I look around the crowd of alien-looking changelings closing in all around me. “You have to be nice to me! I'm just a filly!'

The creatures around me start hissing then flinging their hooves at me. In mid-motion, those hooves transform into claws.

In response, I SCREAM at the top of my lungs then shrivel into a little ball. I continue to shiver there as I attempt to brace for the impact as hard as I can. It takes me a while to notice the attack hasn't come. Eventually I peek out of my forehooves to see my opponents around me twitching as they struggle to free themselves within a dark green magic aura.

“You are pathetic!” the changeling accuses me with sharp disgust. “Were you really going to just stay in a little ball while they attack you? You'd be throwing away your chance to save yourself. To save me! To save your friends! How many would you be willing to forsake just because you refuse to summon your killer instincts?”

“But I don't have any killer instincts!” I insist.

“Cut the crap, Sweetie Belle!” the changeling barks back. “Every lifeform alive knows instinctively how to defend themselves. You are simply choosing not to fight back. That didn't hold these opponents back. Instead, I am doing that for you.”

“But you are the one who put them here in the first place!” I remind.

He growls in frustration then shouts out, “FINE.” He calms down. “Fine. We'll try another approach. Instead of you fighting them, I want you to watch me do so instead and you better pay close attention, Sweetie Belle, or you will be my next target.”

I see more of these nightmarish things crawl out of the shadows. Some of them do so with very unnatural movements like trotting upside down with their torso aimed upwards and their limbs contorted behind them in order to trot with the ground at their back. I also hear a buzzing sound as more start to descend to us from above.

When they close in, there is a short pause for a moment before everything rages into explosive action.

The twelve twisted changelings that he has pinned are suddenly flung to crash into twelve others, but more quickly replace them. I see my host changeling suddenly project twelve spikes from his body which impale into twelve opponents around him. After that, he spins in a circle. The spikes around him curve a bit but they eventually drag the spike's impaled corpses to spin around him. About a second and a half later, the bodies fling off of his spikes and crash into twelve more opponents that had attempted to close in around him.

I crawl onto my hooves as I behold his masterful display of combat maneuvers with both horror and awe. My shock at how easy he does this is only matched by my horror of how totally indifferent he is to the death he causes around him.

There is a lot he performs, too. So much so that my mind can barely process it all. I see him morph around his opponents’ limbs and slice them apart as he passes them. I see him swing a hind leg in a wide arc for a round-house like kick. Not only does that limb extend fifteen feet in mid-motion but it becomes a blade at the same time. He slashes through six opponents in the air who then rain down both their bodies and their blood.

To another opponent, he smashes that opponent between his forehooves while it morphs into an Iron Maiden that closes in on that opponent. Blood leaks between the metal coffin-like contraption before he spreads his limbs apart then flings the blood on his hooves into the eyes of several other opponents. He lashes out his forehooves on two more which become twelve-foot-long tentacles. After he snags his opponents, he also electrocutes the tentacles shortly before using his now dead targets to smash away at several other opponents.

Next, I notice him lift about six of the nightmarish changelings by the neck using his telekinesis to crush their lungs shut and lift them up off the ground using their throats. As they writhe in pain and terror, he proceeds to drain them of energy. I see an energy stream from all six of them flow from them and into my host changeling. He seems to draw strength from that attack as if it recharged him. After that, he uses his telekinetic hold to suddenly snap their necks back one-hundred and eighty degrees before chucking them at himself. At the last moment he ducks. The opponents he telekinetically chucked at himself crash into several more that was attempting to sneak up behind him while he seemed too distracted draining fear from those six.

I try to pay attention to all of this and I do keep looking, but my mind keeps drifting in a daze. During that time, it occurs to me that I finally believe him when he claimed that he missed Princess Twilight's heart on purpose. Earlier I regarded it as a possible childish excuse to explain one's failure but now that I'm seeing how efficient and fluid his movements are, I'm finally convinced that he was telling the truth earlier. With the sheer amount of ease and emotionless dispassion he's working to terminate all of his opponents, I absolutely now believe he could have easily killed Princess Twilight if he wanted to.

There is a strong fluid grace to his movements, too. Each motion flows into the next. He keeps his momentum as he moves from opponent to opponent. He's even skating on the pool of blood on the floor like an elegant skater while the rest of his opponents are clumsily slipping about. As he slides into one opponent, that opponent attempts to grapple the host changeling, but the one who grasped him suddenly grimaces in pain because he morphed sharp spikes out of his back. The host then slithers around his opponent like a snake while slicing his opponent along the way. From behind, the host changeling crushes the life out of the one in his grasp then swings the body around to use it to block an attack behind him. The host changeling drives forward and thrusts a hoof which becomes an elongated spike driving through the dead body ahead of him and through three more ahead, all while aligning himself so that a straightforward attack pierces through all four opponents.

Not only is the changeling's flow of movement perfect, but he's also controlling the battlefield with his telekinesis so that he controls the flow of movement of everything else around him too. For instance, I once see him gather a group of his opponents together before I see him suddenly spout out a huge breath of fire. During that attack, I see the changeling's head and neck morph to gain a dragonish look to it. In particular, his chitin hide morphs into black dragon scales. It is as if that kind of form is not only required to produce the breath of fire but also to endure its heat without melting himself. Because he also locked a large group of his opponents together with telekinesis, they completely could not dodge. Instead, they are all roasted with the full force of the fire breath attack.

Considering how intense the action is, it makes the eerie silence that follows it all the more deafening. I watch as he slowly turns his head to regard me sharply. While that happens, he is dripping from head to hooves with blood. The fact he does not seem to care about that at all chills my soul to witness.

Then, as he begins to trot towards me, he seems to be traveling in slow motion because I feel my body start to panic and the adrenaline it pumps thereof causes my mind to accelerate and for him to seem to slow down accordingly.

Until he spoke to me, that is.

“There is a reason I wanted you to witness this,” he says when he arrives a few feet in front of me. “I want you to know that is what our opponent can do as well! Him, and all the other changeling clones! We all stem from the same source. We all trained every second of our entire lives like this!” He glances back at the carnage behind him as he says. “It's not always exactly like this.” He looks back at me. “Sometimes it's infiltration missions. Sometimes it is investigation. Sometimes it is hiding evidence from discovery. Sometimes it's combat. Often it's mixed.

“But I need you to know that this is what we are up against. We are up against an army of changelings who take training like this seriously their entire lives, even while we sleep. We're always planning, plotting, training or actively doing a mission.”

“Bah-bah-but . . . I thah-thought you said that you guys don't like to kill,” I remind him with a fearful stutter.

He actually nods in agreement before saying, “That's true because it's a waste of valuable resources and it's very messy.” He tilts his head at me a bit as he goes on to say, “We can’t feed off of a corpse. We changelings need our targets alive to feed off their emotions so there goes a massive motive for a permanent end right there.

“In addition, we Ghosts are highly, highly trained to erase all traces of our presence and every single drop of blood spilled is a story that tells others of us. We cannot allow that.” He applies a hoof to his chest as he admits, “I will admit that I am not perfect but I can clean a crime scene of evidence better than most. Well enough that it would take a very serious investigator to find some clue that we missed.

“At least, that's what I would say if we had time to pull that off. If we don't, we might have to settle for a more hasty approach. Sometimes it is more worth it to us to take out the investigators themselves who make too much progress. Either that, or plant false evidence later to misdirect them.” He flashes me an evil grin as he adds, “Perhaps you can figure out why it's so easy for us changelings to frame others of a crime they didn't commit. All the better to erase evidence of our passing.”

Now he approaches me with a menacing stance that causes me to cringe in fear.

“I just showed you what our opponent can do, and keep in mind that my original self has all of his memories intact. That, in itself, does not mean his memory is perfect, but he does know more than me. Add to that, he has an army of his own clones at his beck and call who have almost as much training and capabilities as he does.”

He points behind him at the carnage as he says, “I just showed you what one of us is capable of. In that whole fight, not one of them laid a scratch on me. But, even if they did manage to get me, I could just morph the wound away in seconds.

“Think about that, Sweetie Belle. One changeling versus an entire army and it was still a massacre. Now, what if you take that potential and multiply that by a hundred? What about a thousand? Huh? Do you still think you are prepared?

“Also, consider this: During this whole time, my original self has been gathering information from all of his clones. I was using just basic telekinesis in that fight but I assure you that I'm capable of much more using my magic and that means my original self can as well. He's been gathering that information, like the knowledge of still more spells, this whole time. That, along with all of his clones in strategic positions to subtly manipulate the laws and systems of all of Equestria and we have ourselves a serious recipe for disaster.

“Meanwhile, what do I have to work with? A little crying foal who hasn't even mastered our most basic changeling abilities let alone any of the advanced techniques that we Ghosts are trained in.” I see him bristle aggressively as he growls, “A little foal who won't lift a hoof to defend herself because she's too innocent? A little foal who'd rather imagine herself as the little damsel in distress while waiting for some big, strapping stallion to rescue her from her dragon?

“WAKE UP,” he shouts then bows to me, “your majesty,” he sneers sarcastically. He rises from his bow as he says, “The world doesn't work like that. You just try and defend yourself with your innocent little tears. See how long it makes my original self hesitate!”

Without warning, he suddenly morphs a piercing spike out of his left forehoof and thrusts it into my right shoulder. A spike that is as thick as a pen. Inevitably, my response is to burst out into a sob.

“That's it, your little majesty! Cry your pitiful little eyes out!” he tells me coldly. “While you do that, I'll keep twisting this spike. Let's see which one of us gives out first.”

I collapse to my knees and keep on crying. I can't help it. I can barely even think right now since I am in too much pain and fear.

“HATE ME!” he yells at me. “Strike me! Attack me! Make me suffer for what I'm inflicting you with.”

I just keep crying.

The spike in my shoulder grows spikes of its own inside my shoulder. As promised, he cruelly twists it.

I just keep crying.

“Come ON!” he cries out. “Hit me. HIT ME! For once in your miserable little life, stand up for yourself! Stand up for me. Stand up for the people you love. Stand up for all of Equestria!”

I just keep crying. As I said, my mind and emotions are too far gone for coherent thought. He's pushed me much too far beyond my limits.

He shakes with raw fury and frustration in front of me before ripping out the spike from my shoulder. Because it still had spikes of its own, it takes a decent chunk of my shoulder along with him.

“Damn you, you useless foal!” he growls in frustration.

I collapse on the floor. I grow startled by the large amount of blood leaking from my shoulder.

“Heh . . . help me!” I cry out fearfully. “I'm dying!”

He shakes his head as he glares sharply at me over his shoulder as he says, “No, you stupid little foal. Lest you forget, this is a dream. Despite how realistic The Room can feel, you can't die in here any more than you can die in a real dream.

“Besides, even if this was the waking world, that wound would still be nothing more than an illusion to the likes of us.”

“Help me!” I plead.

“Help yourself!” he insists back. “Wounds are an illusion to us. Pain is all in your mind.” He taps his head. “The body tries to trick you. Tries to deceive you. Ignore it. Close your eyes.”

With little other choice, I cooperate.

“In your mind, ignore the pain. Tell yourself it does not exist,” he instructs. “Instead of that, focus your mind on your target goal. Like it or not, you are a changeling now. Your body will assume whatever form you wish. You don't have to change your form severely to solve this problem. Just picture, in your mind, your ideal form. Hold that image in your head and move towards it. Embrace that image. Let it become you. Let it become a part of you. You are whatever your mind is. Thoughts become energy. Energy becomes magic. Magic becomes structure. Structure becomes form. The chain of causality awaits the first nudge of movement. It starts with your mind. It starts with your will. Become that which you wish to be.

“There are no limits, Sweetie Belle. It's all spread before you. All possibilities. That's what you are. That is what it means to be a changeling. You are one in everything, and everything is one in you.

“Focus.”

I can't explain it, but his voice is hypnotizing now. Maybe it is magic. Maybe it is technique. Maybe he morphed some supernatural ability of some creature that affects the subconscious with his spoken voice. Whatever the case may be, I feel a lot more clarity and focus within me now. I actually feel my pain vanish like smoke. Instead, I keep my mind locked on my target form; that of myself except an unwounded version of myself.

The more I think about that, the more it feels real to me. I gallop to that. I embrace it. I hold onto it in my mind with all of my might until it feels so easy to me that I no longer have to try. The new results hold without any conscious effort on my part anymore. I have become that which I set my mind to.

Feeling suddenly elated, I open my eyes and check my shoulder again. This time I see that which I pictured in my mind earlier. I see my hide whole and pure. I don't even see a stain of blood on my shoulder anymore.

“I DID IT!” I cry out excitedly. I leap to my four hooves and bounce up and down. “I DID IT! I DID IT! I DID IT! I DID IT! I DID IT!”

For a very brief moment, I catch the host changeling looking at me with a faint glimmer of pride but it is shortly wiped away by some dark and depressing thought of his. He looks away from me as he says, “Yeah. Congratulations, kid. You've taken your first step into a much larger world.” When he looks back at me, that faint smile returns as he adds, “And what you just accomplished is something that even most changelings don't know they can do. They can all do it but they usually don't ever realize it.”

As a test, I concentrate on my hooves. Moments later, to my greater delight, I see it morph into a hand of some kind then return to a white hoof.

I really did it! I can morph now.

“Is it really like this in the waking world?” I ask hopefully. “If I can do this here, can I really do this while awake as long as I follow the technique you taught me?”

“Yeah . . . for what it's worth,” he tells me despondently. “But my original self is way ahead of this level of skill. By learning the basics of our shapechanging skills, this does little to prepare you to save your world.

“But, at the very least, it will reveal how you might have changed your form on your own. He need not know that you changed our base form. If he learned that, he'd be much more interested in you and in a very bad way. Expect experiment after invasive experiment if he learned that you accidentally discovered a possible means to save our changeling population problem.”

“Wait a second! That could be a bargaining tool!” I realize.

He shakes his head. “Too dangerous. I know what plans he has for Chrysalis so I can expect something no less brutal for you. Trust me, Sweetie Belle, the last thing you want to do is give more valuable information to an enemy spy.”

“Who says he has to be our enemy?” I argue. “Treat him like a friend and maybe he'll become one.”

“Not all races are as naive as you ponies,” he argues back. “Nor are all changelings soft fools either. He only seeks out an advantage and he'll use brutally efficient methods to do it.” He narrows his eyes at me as he says, “To individuals like us, there is no such thing as good and evil. There is only the weak and the strong. The winners and the losers.

“Oh, he'll definitely pretend to be your friend as long as you are cooperative. Lying and playing a role is something we changeling infiltrators are very good at, especially the Ghosts.

“However, as soon as your usefulness is exhausted, well . . . I did say he likes to be efficient, and there is nothing more wasteful than wasting our time on useless allies.”

“And that's the way you see me?” I ask with a sad frown.

He looks forward and down as he sighs, then admits, “Yes, but unlike him . . . I'm desperate. I have to work with what I have no matter how useless I personally regard you, and you are the one currently in charge of our body. In its new base form, it might even be possible that I truly can't take it over anymore. It's changed too much. It now fits you more. That's your body now, you selfish foal.”

“But . . . I need to give this back to you when I get my body back!” I wail.

“And how exactly are you going to do that?” he snaps.

“I'm . . . I'm working on it. But don't worry! I have powerful and highly magical friends. We'll fix this. You'll see. That's how we ponies roll. Our friendship is our magic. You wouldn't be the first to underestimate us.”

He shakes his head and sighs as he facehooves.

“I can't believe this!” he growls under his breath.

Author's Note

*Note: This chapter has awarded the story the "gore", "violence", and "death" tag, even though it was only virtual violence.

Some of you might be thinking that this chapter is ultra brutal and cruel. For that reason alone, I wouldn't be too surprised if this chapter earns a few dislikes.

Yet it serves the story in more than one way, and it teaches Sweetie an important lesson on multiple fronts.

Some of you might even agree about the changeling's base philosophy about promoting self-defense.

Also in this chapter is a much better look at how deadly he can be, and by extension, his original self, as well as all the rest of the clones, provided he's been telling her the truth.

As for the chapter title, it's quite clear why it is called that within the context of the chapter itself. That is what the changeling calls his internal "danger room" virtual training ground.

There is another connotation to the title, however, and it is likely the majority of you caught that. For those that did not, however, here's a hint:

Chapter 27: Girls Night Out, Part 1

“Done!” Button Mash declares triumphantly while using my body to push away his homework. “Geeze, Mom. Crack that whip, why don't ya? You really know how to lay it on thick.”

“You really think so?” Button's mother, Cream Heart, asks brightly. “Because, you know, I really was considering to be a teacher before I had you, but being a mother has been a full-time job for me.” She smiles as she looks off to her side. “But you know . . . having this experience with you two really does bring back some nostalgic memories.

“Huh.”

Cream Heart tilts her head cutely as she applies a hoof to her left cheek and muses aloud, “Maybe I should rekindle that old dream of mine. Perhaps I could at least substitute for Miss Cheerilee.” She looks at us. “Or maybe I should apply for the Friendship School. They've been desperately calling for substitute teachers because their primary teachers are the Elements of Harmony who frequently get called away to do some friendship missions.” She looks at her “son” more squarely as she asks him, “What do you think?”

Button looks up at his mother brightly as he says, “Sure, Mom! If that is what makes you happy.” Now he assumes this typical bragging posture and expression which feels weird to see that with my body. “Not only that, but I'm a big pony now! I can totally take care of myself around the house so you go off and do what you want. I'd probably occupy most of my time playing video games anyway.”

“Uh-huh,” Button's mother nods with a deadpan expression. “Uh . . . yeah. Thanks but no thanks, and thank you for the warning. Bad idea.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” Button asks in an offended tone and inadvertently used my trademark squeaky sound when he used the word “that”. He goes on to say, “I am a big pony now, Mom! I can take care of myself without having to be foalsit all the time! You'll see.”

Cream Heart smiles at her son as she reaches forward and pinches Button's cheek while saying, “Oh Button . . . you are so cute as a little filly right now!”

“Mom!” Button exclaims in embarrassment as he backs my head off and rubs my cheek. “Cut it out! You're embarrassing me.” He glances at me then corrects himself by saying, “Embarrassing us both, actually.”

Cream Heart regards her son with a bemused and fond expression as she says, “You know . . . I always wondered what it would be like to have a daughter. Part of me even hoped for that but I'm not disappointed with what I got instead either. You and I had some crazy adventures together.” She boops my body's nose. “My little trouble maker. Maybe that should have been your cutie mark,” she teases.

“Which is something I'd prefer to keep private . . . please!” Button requests tightly.

All of our ears perk up when we hear the front doorbell ring. Almost immediately after, Cream Heart scampers off as she says, “I'll get it.” Then she calls ahead more loudly. “I'm coming!”

Button sighs in irritation as he leans my head back and rests it on the counter behind us. After that, he says, “I'm sorry about my mom. I know she can be quite a pain.”

“Seems to me you two have that in common,” I tease with a snicker while I playfully tap my white hoof on my body's left shoulder.

“Hey! Whose side are you on?” he asks as he turns my head to look at me. “You're my little special somepony. You should be on my side, not my mom's!”

“But you really do make a cute filly!” I continue to tease as I swish my two-shaded tail behind me in a playful manner.

Button sits up straight and widens my eyes at me as he asks, “Is that the way you really want me to be? To be a cute little filly?! I thought you had enough of that with your Crusader friends.”

Since he's got a point, I drop my teasing smile and tell him far more seriously and sincerely, “Oh, believe me, I do prefer you the way you were, and you're right . . . I do have enough filly friends. I'd always welcome more, but I prefer you the way you were.” I squirm in embarrassment as I admit, “It's just that . . . I find our current situation adorable. I wouldn't want you to stay this way because, you know, I do eventually want my body back aaaaand I want you to have yours. For the moment, though, I'm just trying to make the best of things.”

Button looks past me. He notices something before announcing, “Speaking of your filly friends.” He then points my left hoof past me three times. I turn around then widen my eyes in delight.

“Hey Apple Bloom! Hey Scootaloo!” I say in delight. “What's sup?”

“Nothing much,” Scootaloo answers as she and Apple Bloom trot in further. In fact, Apple Bloom hops up to the bar stool seat next to me. “We're finished with school and wanted to check out and see how you two are doing,” Scootaloo elaborates as she hops into the couch ahead of me but hangs her forehooves off the back in order to face me. “Speaking of schooling . . . how's your first day studying with Miss Cream Heart?”

“Miss Cream Heart!” Cream Heart repeats with amusement as she searches for something in the kitchen. I don't know what. “Now a mare can get used to respectful titles like that.”

“Grueling,” Button pouts.

“Enlightening,” I answer much more lightly.

“Embarrassing,” Button counters. “Who wants to stay home from school all day and be taught by one's own mom? I see her enough when I come back from school on other days.” He spins about in the barstool to face his mother before saying, “I love you, Mom, but a foal needs a break sometimes.”

“Oh, you don't need to explain,” Cream says as she reads the back of a cereal box unusually carefully as if trying to discern something. “I was a young and wild filly too at some time so I know what it's like to long for independence.”

Scootaloo snickers before teasing, “She called you a, 'filly too'.”

“Yeah! I know!” Button barks irritably. “She and Sweetie have been teasing me about that all day long. It's driving me nuts.”

I frown a bit at Button because part of me really does feel sorry for him. After all, I'm the one who inadvertently dragged him into this mess.

I decide to attempt to change the subject a bit by looking back at Scootaloo and announcing, “As a change of pace, it is nice to spend a day with Cream and Button in order to learn that way but I also have to admit that I miss going to school, seeing Miss Cheerilee, and spending more time with you gals.

“Speaking of which, aren't you two supposed to be Crusading right about now?” I ask as I look back and forth between Apple Bloom and Scootaloo.

“Not without you, Sweetie Belle,” Apple Bloom says with a frown to me. “It ain't feeling right without ya.”

“Yeah!” Scootaloo strongly agrees. “We're a team and, without you, we feel incomplete so we announced in class that we're canceling future Crusader sessions until our friend gets better.”

“Lots of foals groaned because of that,” Apple Bloom adds to what Scootaloo said. “But a few did ask about ya. They told us to tell ya they wished ya well.”

“Aw!” I get all gushy. “That's so sweet!”

“They even talked about making you a 'Get well' card,” Scootaloo put in. She smiles a bit. “I swear, it's so touching to discover how many ponies really care for us.”

“Well I, for one, am not too surprised,” Cream Heart says as she carefully studies the back of yet another item. It looks like it is cream of wheat. “I say that because I've discovered that this town has a lot of heart. Whatever we do, we tend to do it with a lot of passion and feeling.”

“As the spontaneous town-wide songs clearly attest to,” Button says with a grin on my face.

“That's gotten more common ever since Pinkie Pie moved into town, I noticed,” Cream noted as she finally looks from the box she's holding and back to us, though she's still holding the box with a hoof. “I don't think it would be an exaggeration to say that Pinkie might be the heart of the town. Back when Twilight lived here, I'd call her the mind.”

“Actually, ma big sister keeps saying that the apple farm is the heart of the town,” Apple Bloom partially argues/brags. “Though Ah gotta admit . . . Pinkie certainly magnifies that potential emotionally. She gets everypony all jazzed up and excited tah live hee-yare.”

Cream Heart shakes her head as she says, “Heart? Maybe. But these days I'd call it more like the foundation of the town. The one critical piece that caused everything else to build up around it. Heart is more based on emotion but the farm does serve the role too since it's a historic landmark.” Cream shakes her head. “This town certainly wouldn't feel the way it does if the Sweet Apple Acres suddenly went missing.”

“Ya said it!” Apple Bloom agrees cheerfully.

“So you fillies came here just to hang out?” Button Mash checks as he looks between us all. “You're out of school and you're not doing Crusading today. That narrows your options.”

Scootaloo smiles a bit as she starts swishing her purple tail while she says, “Actually, yeah. Apple Bloom and I have been discussing it along our way here and we realized that we miss hanging out and just being friends. Because of that, we were thinking of heading out and having fun somewhere.”

“Yeah?” Button questions. “Well good luck with that. I hope you all have fun.”

Scootaloo blinks at Button questioningly as she asks, “What are you talking about? You're invited too.”

“Yeah. Thanks but no thanks. I'm not planning on heading out anytime soon while looking like this,” Button gestures to my true body. “Why do you think I stayed here instead of going to school? Do you think I wanted to stay here and study with my mother, of all ponies? No! But I put up with it because it is still better than the alternative.”

“But we ain't going tah school,” Apple Bloom put in. “Instead we're heading out someplace fun like . . .” She trails off as she thinks about it. She even looks back and forth between me and Scootaloo to see if we have any good ideas.

I notice Cream freeze for a moment before she sets some boxes of food down and turns to look at her “son” and says, “Actually, that's a very good idea! You all should head outside and play. Go have a good time. Youth doesn't last forever.”

“Mom!” Button complains. “I can't head outside looking like a little filly! I'd look ridiculous.”

I get the distinct feeling that all of us mares and fillies in the room found his choice of words offensive. His mother is the one who just happens to be the first to voice it.

“And what's wrong with being a filly?” Button's mother asks her son. “And besides, no pony else will think you look ridiculous. They'd just think that your Sweetie Belle.” She looks at me. “Unless you go with him too while looking like that as well.”

“But I can change my form now! I know how!” I mention excitedly. “So I can wear a clever disguise. Look!”

To prove my point, I morph my form so that I'm now wearing horn-rim glasses that has a goofy nose and a fake mustache. Once I am wearing my ingenious disguise, I tell the others in a voice filled with mystique, “I can be Shimmering Spectacles!” I narrow my eyes and give a shifty-eyed look as I add in a slightly lower tone of voice, “A librarian with a mysterious past.”

“Sounds perfect!” Scootaloo agrees enthusiastically.

“Yeah!” Apple Bloom also cheers. “You go, girl!”

Button looks bewildered between each of us Crusaders before finally asking us, “You're all kidding . . . right?”

“Why would we be joking?” I ask my coltfriend. “Just look at these!” I gesture to my face and my clever disguise in particular. “I look like a totally different pony while wearing these.”

“You look like Sweetie Belle with a dumb disguise,” Button tells me with a deadpan face. “Come on, Sweetie Belle. You got a changeling body now! You can try to go for something way cooler than that.”

I feel a bit miffed that Button is dissing my clever disguise but I'm also curious if he does have a better idea, so I ask him, “Like what?”

Then I look at Scootaloo as she bursts into a chuckle but she tries to hold it back by pressing her forehooves into her mouth. When she calms down a bit, she suggests, “How about you, Sweetie Belle, go out with us while disguised as Button Mash!?” she asks in a tone of amusement. “That way we're all here and we don't have to explain anypony’s absence. Besides, it seems only fair since he has to go out disguised as you.”

Cream Heart sighs as she says, “While that does sound like fun and might be fair, it's also rather risky. A bunch of ponies in town are aware that my son's body is in a coma right now. I've had a lot of ponies stopping me on the streets and offer their best wishes and condolences. With just about any store you all go to, you're bound to get a lot of questions if Sweetie Belle here goes disguised as my son.”

Button frowns and says, “If it weren't for that, the two of us could technically go to school but I still don't want to go while disguised as Sweetie even if Sweetie goes as me. I don't want to feed into anypony's impression that I am Sweetie Belle. It just wouldn't feel right.”

“Yeah,” Scootaloo agrees with a sigh. “I guess that wouldn't feel right.”

“We ain't gonna force ya into anything y’er uncomfortable with, Button Mash,” Apple Bloom assures. “But that said, Ah highly encourage ya to join us.”

“Yeah! We just want to hang out!” Scootaloo also encourages then looks at me. “Back me up, Sweetie Belle.”

I sigh as I regard Button while taking a brief moment to gather my thoughts before telling him, “Button, you know I care for you a great deal. You know I do. I'm your special somepony and you are mine . . . but . . .” I look across my other two friends then look back at him. “these two fillies are my best friends too and we have yet to all hang out together. I think it would be really cool if my new friend and my old friends hang out and have some fun.”

“While I look like you?” Button checks. “Your reputation is more on the line than mine, Sweetie Belle. Are you sure?”

Before I have a chance to answer, he raises my hooves as he declares, “Look, I don't mind the 'hanging out' part. I'm totally down for that. My only problem here is going outside and being forced to pretend to be Sweetie Belle. I care about her too much to want to risk doing something or saying something that might give others the wrong impression of her or me. Also, I'd feel too embarrassed pretending I'm something I'm not. The other thing you all seem to be forgetting I currently have my cutie mark on Sweetie's flank. That's bound to raise some questions if anypony spots it.

“Besides, I have a better alternative. We can all just hang around here and play some video games.” Now he lights up the expression on my face. “So? How about it? You all down for playing some video games? I got a bunch to offer!”

Apple Bloom's expression to Button deadpans as she says, “Believe it or not, Button, not every foal gets excited for video games lahk you do.”

“And we wanna hang out somewhere outside!” Scootaloo says so anxiously that she hops on the couch once.

“Please, Button?” I beg him while batting my eyes at him. “We just want to have some fun with you.”

“An Ah tell ya what,” Apple Bloom proposes. “We'll make ya a deal. Whenever ya’re around others, ya pretend yer Sweetie and we'll do the same.” She looks at him more squarely. “But when it's just the four of us tah'gether, we'll treat ya lahk Button cuz we all know yer secret so we might as well treat ya as ya are, and it should be mostly just us hanging together so ya barely have to act at all. Sound fair?”

“As for your cutie mark, we can cover it up with a dress or something,” Scootaloo suggests. “Or maybe we can paint Sweetie Belle's cutie mark on your flank. Matter of fact, that might be the best idea.” She swishes her tail. “I, for one, certainly well remember what it looks like and we Crusaders have plenty of experience with drawing cutie marks.”

Button moans as he squirms in discomfort.

I frown at him because I do feel sorry for him. Despite all the mess I've already brought upon him, I feel like I've been too abusive to him on top of that. Maybe we are pushing him too far and it's not as if I can't understand his discomfort. I felt that way for several days straight.

But I've also accumulated a lot of stress because of those few days. Our current situation is leagues better than how it started. It's still not totally ideal, but it kind of feels as cozy as taking shelter during a heavy rainstorm.

We have this chance to hang out and finally do something fun for a change. I want to take advantage of it.

Button probably notices that all eyes are on him which means all the pressure is on him. He looks around at each of us one by one as we're giving him encouraging and hopeful looks. When he completes his scan, he groans and says, “Fine! But can I at least do something with my mane here?”

I'm sharply taken aback and instantly feel both surprised and offended. A girl's mane is her pride and joy, after all, so I ask very defensively, “What's wrong with my mane?”

“Nothing as long as it is you wearing it,” he returns to me. “But the problem here is I am wearing it now and it feels too . . . well, you know . . . girly for me,” he says with a squeamish expression. “Is there any way to tone that down while we are out? I don't know. Like maybe comb it up maybe and stick it under my propeller hat?”

Now all eyes are on me and I know why. I answer, “Well . . . that's fine, I guess. Just don't cut it, please.”

“I think we can manage something,” Cream Heart figures then looks at her son squarely. “Wait for me in my room. I'll show you something about how fillies and mares brush their manes. I'll also show you how to tie it up so it's not too in the way. After that,” she pauses as she has a discerning look to her son before she goes on to say, “Another thing we have to adjust is your hat itself.”

“Because Sweetie Belle's head is a different size?” Button asks his mom.

In response, Cream shakes her head as she says, “I doubt that's the case. She seems roughly your size. The real problem is her horn, son. By tucking all of her mane on top of your head, it would already push the hat up a bit further. On top of that, you’ll have to wear your hat further back so that her horn sticks out the front.”

“Oh. Yeah. Right,” Button says as he touches the alien appendage on my forehead. “I forgot about that.” He whips his head to me as he says, “And you owe me for this, Sweetie Belle! You promised me you'd teach me how to use your magic. I was serious with that request.”

“What? Really?” Scootaloo asks Button with a blink of surprise. “Why? Those kinds of skills took Sweetie years to learn to master. Why are you so anxious to learn all them of a sudden?”

“Says the one who was encouraging me to learn to use my changeling wings to fly,” I remind Scootaloo.

“Yes,” Scootaloo responds to me. “I haven't forgotten that.” She looks back at Button. “But I want to hear how he responds to that question.”

“Simple,” Button says as he turns in his stool to face Scootaloo fully. “I want to be prepared to defend Sweetie from danger in case it shows up, but at the same time, I don't want to risk using her body to do it because that's still sort of endangering her. Using her magic is the best compromise I can think of.”

Scootaloo squints an eye at Button as she asks him, “Are you being serious right now?” She transfers that questioning look to me as she asks me, “Is he being serious right now?”

“My little boy often has ideas too big for his britches,” Button's mother remarks candidly.

“Yes,” I answer Scootaloo flatly. “He's serious.”

“Wow!” Scootaloo says in amazement as she looks back at Button Mash then salutes him. “I wish you luck, kid.”

Author's Note

Coming off the heels of a starkly serious chapter like "The Room", the story returns to the light-heartedness the show is typically known for except with an extra emphasis on the gender-bend element.

Chapter 28: Girls Night Out, Part 2

Button Mash pauses a moment as he examines himself in my true body using the reflection of a store window. I have to say that he looks like me with my mane hidden under his brown, white, and yellow stripe propeller hat on. Since the hat is small enough, it is tilted at the back end of my true body's head which allows for easy access for my horn at the forward end.

We also did go with painting over his cutie mark with mine option since we wanted to be thorough. Aside from that, we just couldn't convince him to put on a dress to cover it up despite a little peer pressure from us to do it, and I fiercely objected to him wearing ugly brown shorts as an alternative.

Well, ugly on my body, at any rate. If my sister saw me wearing something like that, I'm sure she'd have a heart attack.

While he examines my body in the reflection, I approach behind him. As a result, my own reflection starts to stand out. With a little extra effort and practice, I managed to morph into a form that is still a foal but has pretty tall legs for the age. My hide is now yellow and my mane is a mixture of silver and gold. The tips of my mane and tail curl up a bit. I still decided to go with the glasses because I just wanna but Button convinced me to part with the silly nose and mustache. I think the end results look a little less fun but my big sister might approve instead of fainting with dread which I totally wish I could see. The breed I've chosen is a unicorn as well because I want an excuse to continue to use my magic. When I do, I have the same light green aura color that I usually do which matches my eyes. Both details are very small hints of my true form.

“Look at us,” I encourage with a playful grin as I snuggle my face beside Button's. “We're practically identical twins now, huh?”

Button rolls my eyes and gives me a grin before turning around and facing the rest of the CMC.

“So, girls, now that you've twisted my leg and finally convinced me to come out with you, where exactly do you wish to go?” he checks with us.

Apple Bloom and Scootaloo both glance at each other simultaneously. Seconds later, they shrug simultaneously. After that, they both look back at Button but only Scootaloo speaks.

“Beats me. I just wanted to do stuff together. You know . . . hang out.”

“There's lots of stuff tah do out in Ponyville,” Apple Bloom put in. “Trust me. Me an' thah girls here know the ins and outs of Ponyville lahk the back of our hooves.”

“Comes with the territory of working so hard to get our cutie marks,” I add while I wiggle my nose a bit. I'm a little unaccustomed to the weight of the glasses but I still like the look. It boggles my mind to think the glasses in question are actually me in disguise. They feel just like normal glasses.

“But what exactly do you all wish to do specifically?” Button emphasizes.

“Well, like I said,” Scootaloo speaks up. “There's kayaking.”

“Scuba diving,” adds Apple Bloom.

“Hang gliding,” I add.

“Roller skating,” says Scootaloo.

“Horseshoe tossing,” says Apple Bloom.

“Beauty salon,” I say.

“Zip lining,” says Scootaloo.

“Mountain climbing,” says Apple Bloom.

“Dog walking,” I say.

Button Mash sits down and wipes both of my hooves in front of him as he says, “Okay, okay, okay! I get it! There are lots of options, but which, of those, do you all specifically want to do now?” Button emphasizes.

We Crusaders give each other a questioning look. Moments later, our silent expressions communicate a mutual decision. After that, we look back at Button simultaneously as I say, “We have decided that you should decide.”

Button looks taken aback as he asks, “Me? Why me?”

“Because this is the first time we're really hanging out as friends,” Scootaloo explains. “And we want to get to know you.”

“We're basically up fer ennah'thang anyway,” Apple Bloom puts in. “As long as we do it tah'gether as fray'ends. So, whatever you decide, we can be all fer it.”

“Really? You're all up for that?” Button double checks with the rest of us to be sure.

We Crusaders nod at him simultaneously and enthusiastically.

“Well . . . okay. If you're all sure.” Button stands back up then taps my bottom chin with a thinking pose for a second. During that time, he squints one of my eyes nearly shut. Two seconds later, he brightens as he comes up with an idea then looks between us as he announces. “Alright. In that case, I have decided we should all go to the arcade.”

My expression sinks to a dull one as I point out, “Okay, so we left your house with all of those video games you proposed to play only to go outside and play still more video games?” I facehoof as I say, “I should have seen this coming.”

“Hey!” I look back at Button to notice the fur on my white body bristle a bit and my tail straighten. “You all said for me to decide what to do, and that is what I've decided. Don't knock it till you try it. You're all about trying new stuff anyway, right? And you all said you wanted to get to know me better.” Button looks in the direction of the arcade as he adds, “Plus, at the arcade, there are some video games there that I don't have at home.” Now Button straightens my body and closes my eyes as he adopts a smug look while he announces, “And, at the video game arcade, I'll show all of you fillies what I can really do! I'm quite the stud at the arcade!”

“Huh?” asks a mare beside us which draws all of our attention, including Button Mash. There, we see a pink hide earth pony mare with a green mane/tail and green eyes. She has a cutie mark of a bunch of white daisy flowers which also happens to be her name, Little Miss Daisy. She is standing next to a friend of hers that we Crusaders only recently met. This is a somewhat chubby, light pink mare with a deeper pink mane and tail that coils into beautiful curls. She's wearing an elegant dress that conceals her cutie mark. We happen to know that this friend of Daisy is named Rose Quartz.

Both mares have paused in their tracks in order to give Button a strange expression because of what he said. In particular, they are likely perplexed that he referred to himself by the term, “Stud”.

“Uh . . . haha,” Button fake laughs with an obviously very embarrassed expression. “Nice day we're having, eh . . . fellow ladies?” Following that, he gives the two mares a very sheepish grin and seems to hope that they agree with him then quickly trot on.

The two mares continue to regard Button strangely so I decide to intercede on his behalf.

“We're role-playing right now,” I explain to Daisy and Rose. “Sweetie Belle here is pretending to be Button Mash right now, her own special somepony, in order to get inside his head and figure out how best to please him later.”

While Rose actually still looks suspicious for some reason, Daisy immediately brightens upon hearing that explanation. Her smile transfers from me to Button as she says, “Oh! Well good for you, Sweetie Belle! You’re always being a considerate little filly, aren’t you?”

“Yeah!” Button agrees with a slightly twitchy eye. “That's me. A good little filly.”

Daisy suddenly gets a mischievous look as her eyes get shifty for a second before leaning forward, applying a hoof beside her mouth in a conspiratorial way, and says in a hushed tone, “Well, if Button ever decides to return the favor by dressing up and pretending to be you, then you let me know.”

Button suddenly deadpans as he says flatly, “Lady . . . you have no idea how ironic your statement is.”

“Huh?” Daisy looks confused again as she lifts her head back up.

Button shifts my face back to sheepish as he says, “Which is exactly what Button would have said if he was me.” He taps my head as he explains, “In my attempt to get into character, I have to consider how he'd respond if he really was standing here pretending to be Sweetie Belle.”

“Wow!” Daisy expresses in amazement. “You're a really good actress, Sweetie Belle.”

“Of course she is,” I put in a little insistently. “She's also a play writer, song composer, director, set and costume designer as well. Don't you remember the play she and her friends put on a few years back?”

“Huh?” Daisy asks me then thinks back. “Well, I ah . . .” She suddenly brightens in recollection. She triumphantly declares, “Wait! Now I remember!”

“You do?!” I ask brightly as I wag my tail in excitement.

“Oh yes!” Daisy confirms brightly. “I remember that she wore a very nice pink dress with lots of frills, sparkles, and a cute little pink bow on her back.”

My expression immediately goes flat as I say very dryly, “Why thank you, Daisy. I'm sure Sweetie's older sister would love to hear about how much you're complementing the dress.” I growled the word “sister” and my left eye twitched for a second in annoyance.

A moment later, though, my expression softens since I do recall that my sister really did put a lot of “T-L-C” into that dress on that day. That really was sweet of her. I just find it so annoying how none of the other ponies in town seem to remember anything that I put into that play.

Daisy now looks very confused at me because she thinks she's never met me before so I shouldn't be recalling that play so well. Moreover, it should be “Sweetie Belle” bragging about her performance more instead.

“Come on, Daisy,” Rose Quartz encourages. “Let's leave these little fillies to their silly little games.”

“Oh, you're right,” Daisy agrees then waves us goodbye with a hoof as she turns about and trots off. “Bye-bye, little fillies! You girls have fun with whatever you're doing.”

Button waits for the two mares to trot out of hearing distance before looking down with a sad sigh then paraphrases, “'These little fillies', 'You girls'.” He frowns. “This is humiliating. No pony out here really sees me anymore. That makes me feel so empty inside.”

I frown as well as I look back at Button. I know very well what that empty feeling is like. It might be that I'm smelling that emotion off of him now as well. If so, it is already bringing back some painful memories.

“You'll get used to it, I think,” Scootaloo tries to console but with a shade of doubt. “And it's not so bad being a filly. There's lots of cool stuff we can do. Also, physically, we're capable of just about anything the boys can do.”

“And then some,” Apple Bloom adds with an expression which holds a slight bit of mischief. “But we don't have to discuss those abilities until we're way older.”

“I . . . I want you to know that I understand how you feel,” I express sympathetically to Button. “We're out here to get to know each other and to have fun, so let's do it!” I brighten. “Let's hit the arcade!”

“There you fillies are!” a familiar-sounding filly cries out from somewhere nearby. We search around to locate the source of the voice. What we spot is a dull pink earth pony with a lilac color mane and a thick white stripe tracing through it. If that isn't distinctive enough, the diamond tiara she wears on her head is a literal dead giveaway to her identity. She's calling at us from inside a horse-driven carriage through the open window on the side, but it is currently halted. Excitedly, she opens the door with her mouth then hops outside. Once she's done that, she waves at us to come over.

We glance at each other curiously, shrug, then head on over to meet Diamond. All of us are curious about what she has to say.

Of all of us, I probably have the best idea of what Diamond is going to say since I'm the primary one whose been negotiating with her earlier. I'll just have to wait and see if Diamond confirms my theory.

“I'm so glad I finally found you all!” Diamond cheers triumphantly when we arrive next to her. “I've been searching all over town looking for you . . . four?” Diamond regards me with surprise and without recognition.

I widen my eyes as it suddenly dawns on me that we might have a problem. Diamond doesn't see me as Sweetie Belle anymore. Instead of that, she's going to judge Button in that manner.

This could be a problem!

“Who are you?” Diamond asks me curiously but also politely. There is a slight shine of delight in her eyes as if she's excited about the prospect of meeting a potential new friend.

After Diamond asks that, all other eyes are now on me.

“I'm, ah . . .” I use my magic to adjust my glasses for a second in a manner that reminds me of Sunburst. I then introduce, “I'm Shimmering Spectacles!” As I lean forward in order to whisper something conspiratorially. Diamond copies me cooperatively. “I'm a librarian with a mysterious past.”

Diamond suddenly looks confused. She backs her head to have it straight again as she lifts an eyebrow at me curiously before saying, “You don't say.” We all pause for an awkward moment except for me. I raise and lower my eyebrows several times because I know I came up with a very clever backstory.

Beside me, Button facehooves for some weird reason.

Diamond suddenly brightens as she declares, “Well, any friends of the Crusaders is a friend of mine.” She dramatically swings a leg towards the entrance of her carriage as she encourages, “Come on in. All of you.”

“Ah . . . Diamond,” Scootaloo pipes up, “we kinda, sorta, had our own plans.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?” Diamond challenges pretty blatantly.

“We were thinking of going out to the arcades,” Scootaloo admits honestly, then shrugs. “We haven't tried it yet so we thought it might be fun.”

In response, Diamond laughs briefly then says, “That's cute.” She then jabs a point into the carriage and demands insistently, “Now get in the carriage.”

“Yes Ma'am!” we all say simultaneously which, for once, includes Button Mash. After that, we all scramble into the carriage before we even fully realize what happened.

Then I recall what Diamond claimed she got her cutie mark for.

Once inside, we notice that Silver Spoon is in the carriage too. The gray hide and white mane earth pony filly is looking a little bored as she gazes out the window of the other side of the carriage. When our eyes meet, she narrows her eyes at me a little with a questioning look of “Who are you?” but she also gives me a small but polite wave hi. I return the gesture.

“Besides, I got a great surprise for you Crusaders,” Diamond says excitedly as she climbs back into the carriage. “You are going to looooove iiiiiit!” She squees in giddy excitement. Using her tail, she closes the carriage door as she enters. After that, she knocks on a small shut window at the front of the carriage. Moments later, a senior gentlepony slides the window open.

“Yes, Milady?” the driver asks Diamond.

“Take us to the Ponyville Spa,” Diamond commands with noble dignity.

“Yes, Milady,” the driver repeats in confirmation before shutting the window. Moments later, we feel the carriage lurch forward, pulled by the healthy group of stallions ahead.

“The Ponyville Spa?” Scootaloo echoes questioningly. “That's why you hijacked our evening?”

“That's just our first stop,” Diamond responds. “One of many.” She arrogantly fluffs her mane as she goes on to say, “I need you fillies to all look your best if you are to attend with me to the grand opening of 'My Fair Mare'!” She squeals in excitement. “I just got us V-I-P tickets to the hottest stage show that will début right here in Ponyville! How cool is that?!”

“Really?!” I ask excitedly while the rest of my friends, including Button, look even further confused. “You got us tickets for that show tonight?! And V-I-P tickets at that?!

“Ooooo!” I squirm excitedly. “Does that mean backstage passes too? Do we get to meet the cast members?”

Diamond blinks at me in surprise as she says, “Ah . . . I didn't expect you to come around so I didn't purchase you a ticket.”

“Oh,” I say in disappointment as my ears lower.

“But don't worry!” Diamond says with renewed brightness. “Each of our tickets will allow us to bring a plus one. As far as I know, the Crusaders are not bringing a plus one so you can be one of theirs or one of ours.” She gestures between herself and Silver Spoon. She smiles at me as she says happily, “I didn't know we'd be bringing another enthusiast of the theater arts. I'm so glad you're coming along!”

Hearing that cheers me back up. I say with relief, “Oh good!”

“What's, 'My Fair Mare'?” asks Scootaloo curiously. Her expression shifts to caution as she asks, “Is it anything sappy?”

“It is a play that has a five-star review!” Diamond announces happily. “And I'm taking all of you to see it . . . but first we'll freshen up at the Ponyville Spa. After that, we'll swing by Carousel Boutique for some fancy dresses. After all, if we're going to a fancy theater show, we have to dress the part.”

With every item that Diamond lists, Button seems to grow sicker and sicker. Diamond eventually notices and lifts an eyebrow curiously at Button.

“What's wrong with you? Are you sick?” Diamond asks Button in concern. “I thought you'd be the most excited.”

“Oh? Is that what you think?” Button asks tightly.

Diamond grows even more suspicious as she repeats to Button, “What's wrong with you? You're not acting like yourself at all.” She eyes Button from the tip of my horn to the bottom of my hooves, then back up to my true body’s eyes as she asks, “And what's with the stupid hat? You look ridiculous in that thing.”

“What?!” Button asks in shock then he growls tightly, “I beg your pardon!”

Diamond now narrows both of her eyes at Button as she asks, “What's wrong with you today? You're acting really strange.”

Button gains a pouty face but also slowly removes his hat from my head. Once that is done, both Diamond and Silver gasp and widen their eyes in astonishment as they behold my mane.

“What in the world have you done to your mane, girl!” Silver Spoon asks Button in astonishment. “You look like a hobo.”

Button frowns at Silver as he argues, “No I don't! I, just ah . . . trying something different, is all.” He pats the tight bun on my mane. “I'm a Crusader so it means I like to try new stuff. Well, now I'm trying a new mane style so that I can sympathize with others who also change their manes?” he finishes with a questioning inflection as if hoping his listeners will buy his story.

Diamond asks in astonishment, “What? Are you trying to do research in order to help a foal get a cutie mark for failing mane therapy?

“My goodness! Now I realize that it's a really good thing that I'm treating you all to the Ponyville Spa first! This is a fashion emergency!

“Good grief, girl. I expected way better fashion sense than this from the little sister of Rarity. She should have taught you better than this.”

I cringe in my seat because I realize Diamond has a point. My big sister has taught me better than this, and I was already sensitive to my mane being messed with in the first place. I only accepted his tampering because it was the only way to convince him to accompony us out of his house. We also promised him that it would just be the four of us this evening. How was I supposed to know that Diamond was hunting us down?

But my goodness, though. My Fair Mare? Oooo! I am getting goosebumps just thinking about it! And V-I-P seats, too! I can't wait!

That probably means backstage passes as well. It really pays off to have good friends in high places.

“Why are you wearing that ridiculous hat anyway?” Diamond goes on to ask. “That thing looks about as stupid as the hat Button Mash wears.”

I knew there is going to be trouble the moment I saw Button Mash grimace in anger.

“Oh yeah? Then why don't we talk about that stupid tiara that you always wear on your head?” Button Mash snaps.

Everypony in the carriage collectively gasps in shock due to his words. Maybe even Button himself.

There is a few seconds of an awkward pause inside the carriage before Button looks down sadly and says, “I'm sorry, Diamond. That was out of line. I don't know what came over me.” He looks back up at Diamond above my head as he says, “Maybe I'm actually a little jealous of that tiara? It's probably made of real diamonds, after all.”

Since those in the carriage remain in stunned silence, Button sighs before going on to say, “Again, I'm sorry, Diamond. It's just that . . . Button Mash did give me this hat so I have some sentimental attachment to it. He is my special somepony, after all.”

Finally Diamond's expression changes from stunned to sympathetic. She says, “Oh that's right! And Button Mash is still in the hospital comatose. I bet you're really worried about him, huh?”

“Ah . . . yeah,” Button says honestly. “I really am. I have a lot of personal investment in that stunning and wholly manly stallion.”

I hiss through my teeth while I think to myself, “Careful, Button. Ease it back a bit.”

“Honestly, Sweetie, what do you see in that little weirdo?” Silver Spoon asks Button insensitively.

“Hey, Silver!” Diamond snaps at her friend. “Cut it out! Sweetie is already going through a tough time with his loss.” She applies a hoof to her chest as she declares, “I'm worried about him too! He's our classmate and I wish him well.”

“I don't wish him ill, if that's what you're thinking,” Silver explains to Diamond. “I just want to know what Sweetie sees in the little guy.” Silver returns her gaze to Button as she requests, “Please enlighten me.”

“We're the Cutie Mark Crusaders!” I declare boldly and proudly before realizing I just made a severe slip of the tongue. “Uh . . . I mean . . . they are the Cutie Mark Crusaders. It's their job to see the hidden potential of others.”

With a raised eyebrow extending above the silver rim of Silver Spoon's glasses, Silver transfers that look from me to Button as she asks, “Right, and I want to know what hidden potential you see in him because I want to see it myself. It's quite possible that I deeply underestimated the guy and I'll fully acknowledge that the Crusaders do, indeed, have a knack for spotting hidden talent. I just want to know what that potential is so I can appreciate that quality in him myself. That's all.”

I can smell the fact that Button is feeling a little hurt and he's struggling to remind himself that these two fillies see him as me rather than himself. He's struggling not to be offended but he isn't having an easy time of it.

Also, he's deeply surprised in a bad way. He thought the other foals in school looked up to him.

“Button has a lot more potential than you think,” Button insists. “His mother tells him that all the time, and I believe her.”

“Why?” Silver continues to challenge rather blatantly.

Button shakes with barely constrained fury as he complains, “By Celestia, you're one insensitive little filly.”

“Do you really want me to stop asking? Or do you want to convince me of your point?” Silver bargains.

I see Button widen his eyes for a second as he realizes something. He then looks over at me as it probably dawns on him that he isn't too certain what I see in him. I think I have told him why but it might have gone in one ear and out the other and now he's paying the price.

“I, ah . . . well . . .” Button looks from me to Silver with worry at first but then it shifts to determination as he answers, “Love doesn't need an explanation. When you have it, it's not something we can easily explain. If you have it, you have it. If you don't, you don't. You'll see what I'm talking about when you fall in love someday. When that day comes, I dare you to explain it to somepony else. It's like trying to describe a color no pony else has seen or a sound no pony else has heard. Love is an experience, not a how-to manual.”

Stunned silence descends in the carriage again as his words slowly sink into us. Once again, Button, himself, feels the same way. I can smell it.

Diamond Tiara is the first to clomp her hooves in a clap which gains more speed and enthusiasm. As she does that, the rest of us gradually copy her.

“Well said, Sweetie Belle,” Diamond commends. “None of us are in a fair position to judge you until we have gone through the same thing, and as you said . . . when it happens, we might find it just as hard to explain it to others. I sympathize with that.

“Moreover, I'm actually jealous, too. Romance is something that we fillies often long for. We think about it and yearn for it every day of our lives. We're always hoping we'll meet some hyper-romantic prince charming while also secretly afraid we'll end up marrying a frog.”

Diamond looks up with yearning in her eyes as she says, “I long for the day when I can fully express my feelings to somepony who shares and understands the way I feel. Somepony who will look at me as if I'm the most precious pony in the world.” She looks back at Button. “And not just because of my money either. A pony who would gladly marry me anyway regardless of how much or how little money I have. A pony who loves me for me. You actually have that blessing right now and I'm so happy for you! And I sincerely pray for Button's recovery because I know you both deserve all the happiness in the world!”

The ponies in the carriage are stunned again, but this time in a good way. I feel my little heart melt with bubbly visions of romantic passions.

“Thank you . . . Diamond!” Button tells Diamond in stunned awe. “I mean it. I . . . I know in my heart that Button Mash has heard your feelings for him. On his behalf, I'd like to thank you for your very kind words.”

Diamond smiles brightly as she shakes her head before saying, “No, thank you, Sweetie Belle. You and all of your fellow Crusaders,” she amends as she sweeps a gaze to include Apple Bloom and Scootaloo with those words.

But, notably, not me. While understandable, that does make me feel a little excluded. I know she meant to include me in that declaration, too, but Diamond does not acknowledge that with eye contact this time. I try to remind myself that this isn't her fault and it's the thought that counts.

“You all helped me to find happiness again!” Diamond says happily and proudly. “And I can't thank you enough for it. Even tonight, what I'm doing is just a small gesture in an attempt to repay that debt, for without you . . . I'd still be the miserable little bully that I was. You all changed me for the better and that's why I'm convinced that you three have something really special to offer the world.”

Diamond Tiara sits up straighter in her seat as she starts to adopt a more serious facial expression and pose. I realize she's about to get down to brass tacks and I have a pretty good idea what it is.

“I must admit that I do have an ulterior motive for inviting you all tonight,” Diamond admits seriously. “By no means does it mean that I am not sincerely grateful to you all. It just means I have an extra motive for wanting to get invested in your business.”

“Yeah. I remember Sweetie Belle mentioning this a few days ago,” Scootaloo recalls. “She said you wanted to become our new business partner and you wanted to turn our business into a legit business.”

“Yes, I do,” Diamond concurs. “Mainly for two reasons.

“Number one; I want to prove to my parents, as well as to myself, that I have what it takes to manage big business. What can be more proof than that than by helping to turn a small business into a thriving one?

“Number two; I genuinely think you Crusaders have something very special to offer the world and I want to see you succeed. As a satisfied client myself, I can speak from experience that the services you offer can be life-changing.

“However, I've also noticed that your business is floundering on a financial front and that really concerns me because I don't want to see you three fail. You three are doing too much charity work and it's putting your income in the red zone. You're spending more money than you're making and that is not a sustainable business model.”

“Well,” Scootaloo begins but pauses for a second as she glances at the other members of the Crusaders. I notice that Diamond notices Scootaloo glance at me and not Button Mash. After Scootaloo looks at the three of us, she looks back at Diamond as she says, “We thank you for the offer but we do things our way for a reason. Our services cater mostly to young ponies because those are the clients that have yet to discover their cutie marks. They can't pay big bits for our service and we know that. We can't, in good conscience, slam the door on their faces just because they aren't rich.

“Ah,” Scootaloo rubs the back of her neck in sudden discomfort as she says in apology, “No offense.”

“None taken,” Diamond says with a dismissive wave of a hoof. “I'm not offended by the pony I am or the status to which I am born. You are also forgetting one very crucial thing. Those foals you're talking about have parents that can pay for the service. There's nothing wrong with that. It's just like them paying to give their foals dance classes or some other kind of elite education.”

I suddenly smell hurt feelings from Scootaloo and I know why. That pony's parents have been pretty distant for most of her life. It's forced her to be rather independent.

Diamond appears to realize the mistake of her words upon observing Scootaloo's suddenly hurt reaction, so she says, “Oh! I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be insensitive to your situation.”

Scootaloo shakes her head as she says far more bravely than she actually smells, “That's okay. I'm used to it.”

“That just makes it worse!” Diamond complains sadly and sympathetically.

Scootaloo shakes her head again as she says, “You don't understand. What I've gone through has made me the pony I am today.” She puffs her chest out as she proclaims, “I am proud of the pony I am today! It has made me very independent and I have two of the best friends in the world! Plus I am the honorary sister to the coolest pony in all of Equestria! Rainbow Dash is the best flier and Wonderbolt who has ever lived! How many other pegasi can say that they caused a legendary Sonic Rainboom on multiple occasions? She can cause the impossible to happen at will! How cool is that?!” Scootaloo asks so brightly that it puts a smile on all of our faces. I can smell her pride so I know she's being sincere right now.

Scootaloo pauses a moment as she looks out the carriage window. During that time, we spend a moment in silence which gives us a chance to digest Scootaloo's words and feelings. That is quite a blessing because we need it.

“My point is,” Scootaloo eventually continues as she looks back at us, “I have no regrets. I am proud of the mare I've become. I am proud and happy to live in this town and be surrounded by all my friends on a daily basis, so don't feel sorry for me.” She shakes her head. “There's no reason to because I'm actually one of the luckiest ponies in the world!”

Once again, we feel driven towards another applause, only this time it is towards Scootaloo.

“I'm glad you feel happy about your life,” Diamond says honestly and happily. “I really am.” Her smile drops a little as she goes on to say, “Please don't misinterpret my motives here. I am aiming for financial success but for very personal reasons. More than any other business in the world, I am determined to see you Crusaders succeed. For that to happen, realistic initiatives have to be in place. Surely, by now, you've noticed that as you've gotten older, your business expenses have gradually increased.”

Diamond now turns to look directly at Button Mash as she says to him, “You told me about this yourself. I asked you about this in concern and you were honest with me. You admitted that costs have been getting steadily higher and your income hasn't been keeping up. You said you've done charity work for many other businesses by offering them the services of the foals who are trying to find their own cutie mark. In exchange, they have happily donated some supplies to help you with your other ventures.”

“Yeah,” Scootaloo agrees. “We can just keep that up.”

Diamond shakes her head at Scootaloo as she says, “No, you can't, because the demand for your business is increasing, especially after you added the Cutie Mark Daycamp to your list of services. It's a smart idea on paper but it inevitably has certain costs attached to it. Costs that you are not really keeping up with and it isn't fair to constantly rely on the generosity of your donors which will eventually run dry.”

“Well we get by just fine,” Scootaloo argues. “Sweetie gets some allowance from both her sister and her parents. Apple Bloom gets a cut of the profits from the sale of apples because she's a fellow worker on the farm. As for me, I get a stipend from my parents once a moon. My aunts also chip in from time to time, so we're fine.”

Diamond shakes her head again as she says, “Allowances that go right back into your Crusader business just to keep up with expenses. Don't you ever want to get paid for your valuable service instead? How do you think you'd feel if you can go to Sugar Cube Corner, for example, and purchase a treat that you earned with your own money? Huh?”

That question takes Scootaloo aback and makes her more thoughtful.

“You three have a thriving business on your hooves because you're offering an invaluable and unique service,” Diamond points out further. “So you deserve to get paid for it. It's not evil to ask for money. It's normal and even healthy for the economy. If you make more money then you spend more money for your town and Equestria at large. You'd be contributing to the economic health of everything and that really is important. Far more than you fillies know.”

Diamond pauses a moment as she sighs and takes the time to recollect her thoughts before going on to say, “Making money and spending it is not evil. Morality rather depends on how you make and spend that money. It's just like anything else. Tools are not inherently bad or good. It's rather how you use them that determines things like that.”

We feel the carriage come to a halt. Shortly later, the driver knocks on the window and announces through it, “Milady, we have arrived at the Ponyville Spa.”

“Thank you, Randolph,” Diamond says back courteously to the elderly driver. “Now please open the door for us. We shall be departing forthwith.”

“Very good, Milady,” Randolph replies outside before we hear him climbing down to do as instructed.

“Please just think about my offer,” Diamond encourages us. She almost looks like she's begging us. “I just want to see the Cutie Mark Crusaders succeed. With my help as Treasurer, I think we can not only sustain your business but help it to grow. If you do, then you can help even more ponies!

“Just think about it,” is Diamond's final words to us before she departs from the carriage after her loyal aide opens the door for her and offers a very aged hoof to courteously help her down. Shortly later, Silver Spoon also quietly departs which leaves the rest of us looking at each other in thoughtful silence.

Author's Note

I wonder how many of you saw this coming. Finally Diamond Tirara gets some focus in this story after being mentioned as early as chapter three. And this, of course, is the reformed version of Diamond Tiara which, unfortunately, did not get much focus at all in the show past "Crusaders of the Lost Mark". How many of you also thought that was a shamefully lost opportunity?

Well here, at least, you can gain a glimpse into the way I see her development past the show. She's still bossy and can be critical of certain things, but she's far more kind in this version.

Also, I'm curious if you agree or disagree with her argument about the status of the Crusaders and if her involvement is necessary or not.

Let me know your thoughts on this chapter. I'd love to read it.

Down below are Daisy

and ponyfied version of Rose Quartz respectively.

Chapter 29: Girl's Night Out, Part 3

In all honesty, Diamond Tiara's offer for us tonight really is generous. I know she has a business agenda too. I know she's just trying to butter up a potential new business partner because that is how true professionals hoofle this. I even admire her for that.

My big sister, Rarity, had to do this plenty of times too. She doesn't just let her work speak for itself, although she does that too. She's always gave everything she had into her work but she's also a savvy self-promoter on top of that. She knew that, to make it in big business and the fashion industry, it's all about meeting the right ponies and setting a good impression with them. Meeting ponies like Hoity Toity, Photo Finish, Sapphire Shores, Prim Hemline, Fancy Pants, Countess Coloratura (now known as Rara), Trenderhoof, Fashion Plate, and many, many more were all part of a strategic plan on my sister's part to meet the right ponies and for those ponies to introduce her to other important ponies and for those ponies to spread the news to every pony else. This is the lifeblood to fashion success and Rarity has skillfully managed it as if she's done it before.

There is no doubt that the fact she is well known as the savior of Equestria several dozen times and also being known as a personal friend of Princess Twilight has opened some important doors for my sister, but it really does take more than that to be truly successful in a niche culture with really high standards.

Furthermore, some of these meetings she didn't seek out but instead took great advantage of during a lucky opportunity. Either they came to her, she sought them out, or she literally bumped into them as a happy accident. My sister tells me that often happens to those who are successful in big business. Some of it is what you do, some of it is whom you know, and the rest is just plain, good old fashioned luck which might tip in one's favor more often than not as long as a good attitude is maintained and the individual pony never gives up their vision of success. If they want it, work for it, and believe it enough, success will be attracted, even if it requires dumb luck to pull it off.

Diamond is just doing the same thing. She has a vision of success for her future and she wants us to be part of it because she honestly believes we provide an invaluable service which she also has a personal investment in. It's not just greed for her. That's only part of it. She also really cares for us and the success of our ventures too because we are also her friends.

I have no doubt that she plans to make this a much bigger operation just so that even more ponies can be helped at a time. Helping ponies with their problems and recognizing deep, inner potential is our gig as Crusaders, but the business side of things is not. I understand that and so does Diamond. We need her if we're going to take our operations to the next professional level.

But with all of that said, I cringe with humiliation and crushing guilt how all of these good intentions are crashing down hard on the head of my poor special somepony. We promised that this would just be a fun evening with the four of us and that we'd make sure he has a fair chance to be himself as much as possible. Diamond and Silver inadvertently threw a massive wrench into our plans. Once again, the little rich earth pony fillies ends up as the antagonists against us. The really sad part about that is, this time, they don't mean it or is even aware of the damage they are bringing. That makes me feel sorry for them, too.

All we wanted was a fun evening just being ourselves, so what do we do? We end up pressuring a disguised colt into a super fru-fru treatment at the Ponyville Spa. The things we subject him to there couldn't possibly get more feminine. Manicures, pedicures, mane and tail treatment, mud masks, mud baths, beautifying makeup . . . the works!

I actually consider myself lucky that I could sneak a couple of minutes alone with him just so that I could get an opportunity to redraw my cutie mark on my true body's flank. To do it, I had to improvise using the tools available too me at the Spa. Thank goodness the Spa happened to have the right color lipstick which I used to reapply the fake cutie mark after some other Spa activity washed it off. When finished, it actually didn't look quite as good as before so I ended up finding myself looking forward to resuming to my sister's shop to get my coltfriend in a dress just to help cover up this little flaw. Until then, I hope nopony else pays too close attention to it.

What makes this even more tragic is Diamond is inadvertently pushing this onto my coltfriend with the best of intentions because she knew, that out of all of us in the Crusaders, that I would normally enjoy this the most. I'm honestly not into this stuff as much as my big sister but the primary reason is I can't afford it so I can't get used to something I don't experience on a regular basis.

That said, Diamond has correctly assumed that Rarity has treated me out to the works or, as she likes to call it, “the usual” because my big sister thought it's important to embrace our femininity as much as possible and this was one of her primary ways to both express and enjoy it. While this seldom occurred for me personally, my big sister is the reason it's happened at all on special occasions and I have enjoyed most of it upon its conclusion.

By their own decision, Apple Bloom and Scootaloo got lighter treatments. Diamond was willing to pay for much greater standards and she even encouraged it, but she knew that those two fillies aren't into this stuff as much as me so she didn't put too much pressure on them. Diamond did say there is a minimum standard for beautification since they are going to a very fancy event later. She does have some standards but she's being lax with it a bit for their sake.

However, Button Mash she considered a fashion emergency and, after multiple oddball behaviors from him that is out of character for me, Diamond might even be growing concerned about my sanity. As a result, she's pushing him harder as if she feels it's required to remind him who I really am. She's acting like all of this is necessary to “fix” me while not ever realizing she's aiming at the wrong target all along.

Multiple times, both Diamond and Silver encourage Button to just relax and enjoy this process because they can both see that he is giving us such a sour face while he endures this mental anguish and massive blow to his male ego. He's giving an especially dark look to me as grim eyes silently keep promising me, “Oh! You owe me BIG time for this humiliation!”

All I can do is return an apologetic and sheepish grin to him because I know he's being wronged but I have lost control of this situation. Diamond can be very pushy and demanding even when she has the best of intentions which is further agitated by believable misunderstandings.

There are times, when our two new earth fillies aren't looking, that I secretly clap my hooves together and bow to Button as both an apology and to show gratitude that he's enduring this for this long for our sake. Mainly mine. By going along with this, he is pretending to be me as much as he can be and thereby protect my reputation.

After the Spa, we go to an outdoor restaurant where we eat on stylistic tables that are designed to look like giant mushrooms. This is the one event we do that night that I'm relatively certain that everypony in our group enjoyed, including Button Mash. Fortunately for him, neither Diamond nor Silver seemed intimately familiar with my diet enough to judge him so he is mostly free to order whatever he wants, though he did get a few offhoof comments about keeping my figure. When that comment is made his way, I privately hope that this teaches him more to understand the kinds of social pressures fillies and mares grow up with all the time. That understanding, in turn, might improve his relationships with members of the opposite sex later.

As the evening wears on and we head out to my sister's boutique next, dread sinks into my heart as I realize that there's a chance that Button is feeling so humiliated tonight that he won't ever forgive me for this. It might get so severe that he might dump me. If that happens then it will break my heart but I can at least understand why he'd do it.

Even if it doesn't go that far, I also fear what retribution I might suffer that is severe enough to even the score this badly off-kilter.

And, considering all the anguish and mental abuse that I suffered through in recent history, I'm also afraid that that revenge will break me.

Either way, I have to seriously question whether our relationship is strong enough to endure this abuse.

I hope it is. I really do. I want us to succeed but these are very unusual circumstances.

Because my sister knows the truth about Button, she feels torn between her sympathy for a tortured colt who already suffered some abuse earlier and the fact that we are going to a fancy theater event later. An event in which we'll have the chance to meet influential actors/actresses, backstage personnel, and other fancy clothing designers which she suspects will include a good friend of hers, Coco Pommel. When it comes to meeting important ponies like that, Rarity knows she has to make a good impression with the clothes she sells to us because she also knows who else is going to see it later.

But, at the same time, she doesn't want to push Button's sanity too much which is a factor Diamond is unaware of.

All of this snags my sister between a rock and a hard place because Diamond is pressuring for the fanciest and most feminine dress that money like hers can buy. And, of course, we're aware that the reason she's doing that is to make sure that her friends also make a good impression with other influential ponies. Everything bad or good we do at fancy events like this reflects back on her because she is the one introducing us and therefore she's sticking her neck out for us. I have no doubt that lesson was repeated to Diamond by both of her parents pretty much all of her life and for good reason. They're not wrong.

In addition, Diamond is confused why Button is trying to downplay this because I wouldn't in his place and she knows that. I've grown up with a pretty sophisticated fashion sense thanks to my sister so I'm inclined to get away with as much as I can, especially when somepony else fronts the bill.

Again, I don't embrace it as much as my sister does. In fact, I rarely wear clothes at all. But, on the rare occasion I do, I like to look my best and my sister agrees with that sentiment even more than I do. If I'm going to dress up, then I'm doing so to make an impression. I can't ignore how much my appearance might affect others. There's too much of my big sister in me for that.

But Button Mash is coming into this with a very different perspective and vision for his future. I know he's a little into fashion sense and he does like to dress up on occasion, especially during Nightmare Night, but he simply does it for fun. He delights how he can make a visually striking appearance and it is amped up by his ego and delusion of grandeur.

I don't feel like I have the right to take that away from him because I don't want to make him unhappy. Setting unrealistic goals for himself can be aggravating but also cute. Button is also into some theatrics so he can do this well if he's in the right mood.

However, right now, all of this is being shoved in his face by others who all think they know better than him because they are evaluating him by the standards of another pony.

For Rarity, this is a balancing act and, because of that, we spent more time fussing over his dress than any other pony. In the end, however, we came up with something that seems to be a reasonable compromise. In this case, it's a white blouse shirt with a darker skirt dress. Pretty plain and simple yet also sophisticated with a chic couture.

At the same time, my sister laments that she can't join us for that event. Upon hearing that, Diamond offers to take her, but Rarity tells us that she's too busy to go. Now that she knows that we are going, however, she secretly gives me a letter to hoof to some of her friends if I happen to spot them backstage.

After all of that fiasco and we all dress up, we finally head to the main event itself, the theater. As we roam the halls and are led to a special line for other VIP guests, I notice how other ponies whisper among themselves in order to quietly judge us from afar.

When I see that, it made me realize how somepony like Diamond or Silver, both members of the upper class, suffers even more social pressure than any average filly. Tonight, Button may well be learning how much pressure a normal filly goes through but now I'm learning a lesson as well. Something Rarity told me several times earlier in my life turns out to be quite true. Ponies may judge every detail about us sharply as if it's necessary to compare themselves to it.

I can't tell if the impressions they gain are good or bad. I can't smell their emotions either or, rather to say, I'm getting too much sensory feedback to distinguish how they feel. Besides, I have hardly any context clues to tell each emotion apart from each other based purely on the smell. If I had to guess based on their facial reactions, however, I suspect the opinion of the general public is mixed and leans towards approval.

That makes me think about how I would feel if I was raised with that kind of social influence all of my life. To be not only taught that I am separate and somehow “better” than average ponies by my peers, but also get that message reinforced by the different treatment from the average pony. They look upon us with envy because of how we dress and the way we're treated. Due to that envy, there's also a shade of resentment in their eyes that I'm definitely not used to seeing.

When I notice the reaction of the general public, that cold feeling returns inside my chest again but it isn't nearly as bad as it used to be. Ever since my transformation, normal changeling hunger seems to be giving me a much-needed break. It's a thin reminder that such a sensation is still there but not as important as it used to be.

When we climb into a private area near and above the stage to the right, I feel like I want to express to both Diamond and Silver my sympathy for what they must have gone through that all reinforced social distance with most other ponies but I can't figure out how to approach that conversation without sounding too awkward. Besides, neither filly seem to have much trouble connecting with others anymore. That's especially true for Diamond because Silver is still mostly the follower of the two.

For this show, we are also given complimentary tiny binoculars on a golden stem. It does not seem that necessary considering how close we are to the stage but they are still fun to play with.

The play itself is a drama about a bet between two gentleponies to transform a low-class mare into a fancy lady and the journey she makes throughout. While watching it, I can't help but consider it an uncanny allegory of the journey that both Button and I have made in recent history. Between our lives and the play, it both seems to suggest a strong change that introduces an intense culture shock.

I look at Button several times to see if he is amused to gather the same message as well, but all I see is him gradually falling more and more asleep only to jolt back awake whenever the performers sing a high note in their musical stage play.

Scootaloo also looks a little bored with the play but she's appreciating it from a different standpoint. To her, she's seeing a bunch of ponies go out on stage and doing what they love to do in life. That makes her happy to see. These ponies have found and fully embraced their cutie mark destiny so Scootaloo can at least appreciate the show on that level.

Apple Bloom looks confused. Several times she leans over and whispers to me a question that probably should be better directed at either Silver or Diamond because the questions generally involve the cultural differences between high and low society. The young earth pony filly is coming into this show very much from the perspective of a farm pony so this high society stuff is mostly going over her head. She grasps it just enough to realize how much might be going over her head. So many times she feels tempted to ask why the rich do what they do because, to her, it seems pointless.

For me, I am not struggling with this too much thanks to my sister. I think I would call her fairly wealthy now but that wasn't the case through the majority of my life. Nevertheless, my sister has always been heavily drawn to high society stuff, especially those in Canterlot. My association with her gives me a passing familiarity with a lifestyle like this but even I am learning some new things tonight both because of the play and the reaction of other ponies around us in real life. I've met a few celebrities, too, thanks to my sister. Some of them I have had a deep connection with. Princess Twilight is likely the best example of that.

I don't consider myself a country bumpkin but neither am I a high society debutante. All things considered, I think I skirt the middle of that road. My father makes pretty good money being the manager of a store which sells sports equipment but it's my sister that really secured our elevated status in society later on.

In any case, I've always accepted my place with a carefree attitude. I just think there are better things to occupy my time with than complex social platitudes. Wherever my place in society happens to be, I'm just happy being me. I tend to live my life from moment to moment.

Both Diamond and Silver, of course, are quite into the play. For them, it's amusing to watch a play about a mare of low social standing to “pretend” to be a member of their betters so much that it kind of eventually becomes the truth, but that truth is undercut by a deeper irony and message that says it's more important to love somepony for who they are rather than the way they are told they should be. I think that Diamond, in particular, can heavily embrace that message because, for her, it's another reminder that it's okay to be herself and stray from the norm sometimes no matter how much social pressure attempts to change her.

I smile at her warmly when I notice that because I definitely think it's important for ponies to be who they are and embrace their own individual and wholly unique destinies. To do otherwise drains us of our spirit, magic, and color.

If, on the other hoof, we embrace our destiny especially well, I have seen heavily encouraging signs like Rara's cutie mark brilliantly shining as she passionately performs her beloved music. I even noticed that from a distance.

As a Cutie Mark Crusader, I love it when I see others passionately embrace and fully realize who they are. Each of us has our own special light to offer in a rainbow or musical note to add to a symphony. It is beautiful to behold.

Author's Note

So this is a short little chapter told in "recap mode". I saw this style as necessary at this juncture because I don't think the story needed to elaborate on exactly what the dresses look like or the food they ordered at a restaurant. The focus is on the general events throughout the evening from Sweetie Belle's perspective which includes comparisons to similar events in the past. In the process, it reveals her actions, feelings, observations, relationships, and history. All of this is necessary to explain how and why she grows later on.

Chapter 30: Girl's Night Out, Part 4

For me, this evening was a mixed bag. I did have a lot of fun going to the Spa, then eating, then shopping for fancy clothes at my sister’s place, and finally going to the theater and seeing the debut of a new play which was something I really enjoyed. Diamond Tiara also covered the bill for the whole evening, too, so that was really nice of her.

On the other hoof, I didn't like how much pressure this put on my special somepony and we didn't get to do what we were aiming for. I'll admit that our plans weren't this detailed but the point is those plans didn't get much of a chance to be executed.

After all of that, I thought that we'd part ways because we achieved what Diamond initially set us out to do. Everything we've done prior to the theater visit was in preparation for it. Now that that is accomplished, I figured we'd be done.

But no. That's not what happens. Instead, Diamond directs her driver to her mansion with us still inside it. When we question her why, she tells us that we still have some business to discuss and iron out. To accomplish that, we are “invited” to her home, but drafted seems to be a more accurate term. She says she'll send an agent to report to our legal guardians the fact that we'll be spending the night at her place. The plan really is to sleep there eventually but she says she wants to get a few issues off her chest first.

During the ride to her mansion, I am disturbed by how quiet Diamond remains. She mostly keeps her focus out the window of the carriage but occasionally glances at us since the rest of us are more chatty.

Of those in the carriage, aside from Diamond, Button speaks the least because he is still having trouble remaining awake. Silver Spoon and I end up the most chatty during the voyage as we discuss our favorite intricacies of the play we just saw. Sometimes we're also explaining some things to Apple Bloom and Scootaloo. I'm really not surprised to discover that the singing was the favorite part for my fellow Crusaders. I don't blame them, either. That's my favorite part, too.

When I exit the carriage after it stops, it dawns on me that I haven't visited this place often. I especially didn't see the inside of their mansion much. The first time I was here, I recall we circled around to the back of it for a private pool party.

“Private” was definitely right. After a while, we noticed how few guests there were so I asked Diamond beside me why this party was so special. In response, while also laying on a pool lounge chair, Diamond smugly bragged, “Becaaaaaause of all the ponies we're keeping out!” then subsequently pointed at a crowd of foals beyond the fenced-off bars of the property who looked upon us with jealousy and longing to join us. Seeing that immediately gave me an empty and guilt-stricken feeling.

That visit taught me one thing about the mentality of the Rich family, though. They sure do value their privacy. At the time, I used to think that they were concerned that poorer ponies might try to steal all their fancy stuff. Later on, however, I finally got a good look at Diamond's mother and how supremely snooty she was. Spoiled Rich seemed disgusted just to be in the mere presence of her “lessers” so it made the emphasis on the privacy of the Rich family even more understandable.

Meanwhile, I'm privately hoping the fact that we're invited here now means that Diamond's mother has grown more amenable since then.

I turn to Diamond in order to ask that after we stop and I exit the carriage but I pause when I notice her slip Randolph a note. I see the elderly servant open it, read it, then passes Diamond a concerned and questioning, “Are you sure?” kind of look. In silent reply, Diamond simply nods. To that, Randolph closes his eyes and bows to her for a second before soon departing.

“What was that all about?” Scootaloo asks Diamond after stifling a yawn seconds after she exits the carriage as well. She unknowingly asked the very same question I was about to ask our hostess.

“Nothing,” Diamond replies curtly as she spins about to face her own mansion. “Or, rather, you don't need to know yet.” Diamond waves for us to follow before she trots up the steps to the base of her mansion. “Come along, my little fillies. We have much to discuss.”

“Can we get something tah eat while we're here?” Apple Bloom requests as she follows our hostess up the steps along with the rest of us. “Ah reckon Ah could use anoth'ah bite tah eat.”

Ahead of us, Diamond freezes in mid-step for a moment before looking back at Apple Bloom in surprise as she asks, “Really? But we just ate before we went to the theater and Miss Rarity's shop.”

“Which was a good several hours ago,” Scootaloo points out. “I swear, it feels like we spent almost as much time at Rarity's boutique as we did at the theater itself. Maybe even more time.”

“Yeah,” Button agrees in annoyance. “Because you fillies were so busy dressing me up like a doll and couldn't make up your minds.”

Diamond pauses a moment to stare at Button exclusively for a few seconds then looks ahead as she resumes her journey while saying over her shoulder to us, “Whatever. I'll have our private kitchen staff whip us up a meal soon. I want to get a few issues off my chest first prior to that.”

“So you keep saying,” Button says a little bitterly.

Aside from the stressful evening he's endured, I suspect Button is getting tired and therefore even more cranky.

Button goes on to say, “But we 'fillies' need our beauty sleep, too. That's hard to do on an empty stomach sometimes. Between our discussion and the following meal, how long is it going to take before we finally hit the hay?”

Diamond doesn't answer us. Instead, she just rings the doorbell of her mansion. Five seconds later, two maids open it for her and greet her politely. In response, Diamond trots past them and starts to order them to make preparations on behalf of her guests, but she pauses in mid-sentence when she sees her own mother in the entrance hall also who was busy discussing something with yet another maid until she spots her daughter. Mother and daughter lock eyes on each other for a moment until her mother looks past her daughter. When she notices us, I see her eyes narrow in disgust.

Which makes me inwardly sigh. I had hoped for a more hospitable hostess in Diamond's mother. I had hoped that the snooty mare had softened up since that time in our schoolyard. Now I'm starting to realize that was terribly naive of me.

“Diamond Tiara,” Spoiled speaks stiffly to her daughter, “what are these despicable low-lives doing in my mansion?”

Diamond meets her mother’s cold gaze with even greater steel as she says, “These fellow ponies, Mother, are my friends and I'll thank you kindly for treating them with respect.” Diamond lifts her head higher and has her back straighter with a look of supreme dignity. “Besides, these ponies are our invited guests, Mother, and you were the one who taught me that we should always treat our invited guests with utmost courtesy. To do any less would bring shame upon the hostess and our good family name.”

I see Spoiled Rich huff in anger for a moment, but she quickly forces herself to calm back down because she realizes that her daughter has a point. No matter how far she considers us beneath her, she is also subject to the very same civil rules of etiquette that she imposed herself.

“Well . . . very well . . . fine then,” Spoiled says with strained acceptance. “If these ponies really are invited guests then they shall be treated in accordance with that for as long as they, too, respect the rules of this house.” Spoiled closes her eyes, lifts her nose high to an obviously arrogant degree, and fluffs her mane as she goes on to say smugly, “Besides, I'm sure these common riffraff will have a wonderful time here in our mansion. We can introduce these peasants to more luxury now than they have ever experienced before or probably ever will again.” She opens her eyes at us narrowly as she grows a wicked smile. “So much the better in order to educate them why they must defer to their betters.”

“Well gee! Thanks for making us feel so welcome!” Scootaloo snaps in annoyance with a bite of sarcasm.

“Oh, you're quite welcome, you pitiful little thing,” Spoiled replies in the same way. “Perhaps you'd care for a tour? I'd be more than happy to show you all the neat and wonderful stuff I have as well as introduce you to all the security we have too.” She shrugs as she smiles smugly. “All to show you how secure you all are as our invited guests, of course.”

“I'm sure I can take it from here, Mother,” Diamond announces with cold steel remaining in her voice. “I'm sure you have other business to take care of as usual. I, meanwhile, shall attend to mine.” Now Diamond narrows her eyes at her own mother as she asks tightly, “Are we clear?!”

Spoiled meets her daughter's steel gaze for just a moment longer before whipping her head to the side and closes her eyes as she says, “Fine, then. That's one less stain on my hooves.” Spoiled cracks one eye open at her daughter as she tells her, “Just make sure they behave themselves properly while they dwell in our home. And please be so kind as to keep them off our expensive furniture, will you? We just had them cleaned and they are worth more than they can ever afford.”

Diamond doesn't answer her mother this time. She only stares at her mother with the kind of cold steel that sends shivers down my spine.

Spoiled huffs then trots away.

“Dang, Diamond. I'm so sorry you had to grow up with that,” Scootaloo announces tightly.

“But we're awfully proud of ya!” Apple Bloom says proudly and brightly to Diamond. “Sweet apples, Diamond! Yer one tough filly!”

“You can plainly see why that's necessary,” Silver Spoon says flatly along with a deadpan, almost bored expression, but there is also a slight twinkle of resentment deep in her eyes.

Diamond expels a deep breath as she closes her eyes and directs her head down sadly. Moments later, she says, “Forgive us, Crusaders.” She peeks an eye at me. “Plus guest.” She lifts her head back up again and sweeps her gaze across us all as she goes on to express, “I, at least, have every intention of being a courteous hostess. I hope that's enough for you.”

“Hey! As long as there's some chow involved then I'm game!” Scootaloo expresses with a daring grin. “I consider myself pretty easy to get along with. I don't need anything too fancy. I just have to have my basic needs met. That includes my social needs too, of course.”

“Yeah,” Apple Bloom agrees. “We Crusaders are pretty easy going because helping other ponies is kinda our thang.”

A fond look sinks into Diamond's eyes as she happily expresses, “And, for that, I will always be grateful to you all.”

“Ah . . . so, Diamond . . . what is it you wanted to discuss with us?” I ask to get us back on track with our apparently primary reason for being invited here. I have a pretty good idea what it might be, too.

Because I'm smart.

Diamond looks at me for a silent second before looking somewhere up on the second story of the mansion, then she announces, “Not here. For that, let's retire to the study.”

“Just what is a study room for anyway?” Scootaloo asks us when we arrive in it and she scans about the room. “Is it a place where you come to study something? And, if so, why are we meeting here?”

Thanks to my sister's teachings, I'm not as lost in this environment as my pegasus friend but even I can see why somepony not used to this would be confused. The walls are indeed lined with tall bookshelves stacked with books but there is also a glass cabinet at one end that has all kinds of drinks in it. If that is compared to a true library then that addition may seem really random to those not used to this. Furthermore there is the fact that this room has a big fireplace, a bunch of expensive-looking leather furniture facing each other, and a desk at one corner of the room which seems designed for a scribe.

Since Diamond knows that Scootaloo is speaking from a place of true ignorance, she gives a patient response by explaining, “The study is often a place meetings are typically conducted in, especially business meetings.” She smiles a bit as she goes on to say, “It used to be one of the most important and used rooms for my father and his business meetings. For that very reason, I remember when I used to be forbidden to come inside of it, but lately he's been more lax about that because I think he's starting to realize that I'm growing up and became mature enough to use this place with dignity and respect. I aim to prove that theory correct.”

“Then why not call it the 'meeting' room?” Scootaloo questions. “It would be less confusing that way.”

In response, Diamond just shrugs.

“So what did'ja want to talk to us about anyway?” Apple Bloom asks our hostess. “Cuz Ah, for one, am also hankering fer some good ol' fashion grub.”

Diamond sighs but with a tense look to her eyes that puts me on edge. She's nervous and suspicious about something. I've been smelling it all over her ever since we got into the carriage after the theater.

“I'm not going to beat around the bush too much this time,” Diamond decides firmly. “Because this issue is too important.” She suddenly snaps her head and looks sharply at Button Mash. “First things first: Who are you and what did you do with the real Sweetie Belle?”

“Huh?” Button asks while taken aback.

“You heard me, and I'm not playing around here!” Diamond cries out insistently and with deadly seriousness as she takes a few menacing steps closer to Button. “You really aren't the real Sweetie Belle so I want to know what you did with her, you changeling monster!”

“Excuse me?! You're accusing me of being a changeling?” Button asks incredulously.

“That's right, for I know you're not the real Sweetie Belle!” Diamond says in the same tone. “If you were, you wouldn't be caught wearing that stupid hat earlier this evening.”

“Hey! Lay off the hat, please!” Button requests in a clearly offended tone.

“And you haven't acted like Sweetie at all this evening!” Diamond goes on tightly. “In fact, the only one who acted even remotely close to Sweetie Belle is this filly here!” she says as she continues to look firmly at Button but also points to me. “The real Sweetie Belle would have done more of the talking about my planned initiative for the Crusaders because I discussed this with her before. She'd also be far more comfortable in the Ponyville Spa and especially comfortable in her own sister's shop because no pony, aside from her sister, is more accustomed to Rarity and her eccentricities.”

“Huh?” Button asks with a confused tilt of my head. “Her ex-en what now?”

“That's what I was wondering too,” Scootaloo agrees with equal confusion.

“Rarity's odd quirks!” Diamond exclaims in explanation while throwing up her forehooves for a moment. During that time, she stands on her hind hooves for a second before landing back on all four hooves as she resumes her argument. “The real Sweetie Belle would have been used to that, not rolling her eyes in disgust with every outfit we put on her. The real Sweetie Belle would have found that all fun instead because she likes dressing up and she loves helping out her beloved older sister. Dressing up often gives Rarity new ideas for fancy designs, after all.”

Wow! I'm actually amazed how well Diamond knows me. I didn't think we were that close before!

Come to think of it, she is being spooky accurate about me right now. Has she been stalking me without my knowledge? Because, if so, now it feels really ironic that she once accused us Crusaders for trying to get our cutie marks for “supposedly” spying on her.

Huh. As if! If there was one time we ever should have earned our cutie marks for spying, it should have been when we regretfully worked for her during our dark days with the Foal Free Press.

I loose my train of thought when Diamond goes on to say, “But, most of all, I know for a fact that the real Sweetie Belle was looking forward to seeing that stage show. I didn't tell her that I planned on buying the tickets ever since she made the offhoof comment that she wanted to see it, but it is enough to know that she certainly wouldn't fall asleep during the performance.”

“Maybe I'm just tired,” Button counter argues. “Did you think of that? Did you think of that? Huh? Did'ja?”

“DROP THE ACT!” Diamond screams at Button insistently. “As I said, I'm not playing around with you anymore! What did you do to my FRIEND?!”

Button sighs as he continues to regard Diamond for a few seconds then looks over at me with a helpless, questioning look as if to ask me, “What should I tell her? She's being serious right now. She knows.”

I sigh next before saying, “It's quite ironic that you accuse him of being a changeling because, as it turns out, your guess was so close to the truth.” When I say this, I notice I draw Diamond's attention. With her attention on me, I use my new shapeshifting powers to morph into my natural form which now also happens to be this body’s new natural form as well.

“Sweetie Belle?” Diamond asks with a shocked gasp.

“Yes and no,” I announce. “It's kind of hard to explain.”

Scootaloo shrugs as she says to me, “I disagree,” before turning to Diamond and explains, “That filly right here is the real Sweetie Belle, but only her mind.” While still looking at Diamond, she nods towards me then taps the side of her head three times. “Sweetie got ponynapped about a year ago from some hostile changeling then had her mind shoved into another changeling body for some reason. Her real body was left in slimy changeling goo while her mind, unbeknownst to even herself, was in a changeling body for almost a year.

“Then, recently, she joined with Starlight with some experiment that involves the Cutie Map in the castle. Something about locating other pony’s cutie marks?

“Anyway, the experiment went wrong because there were already unexpected things in play that caused the spell to go nuts. As a result, Sweetie temporarily assumed her new, quote/unquote, 'true' form and Button Mash here ended up possessing Sweetie's original body.” Scootaloo points at the southern wall. “That's why Button's real body is in a coma right now. He's that way because his mind unexpectedly and unwillingly got transferred to Sweetie's real body while her mind ends up stuck in some nameless changeling's body.” Scootaloo looks at me. “Only very recently did she learn how to use her new shapeshifting abilities enough to simulate her original form.”

The room grows very quiet after Scootaloo finishes her explanation. I look at Diamond and Silver and notice both of them looking so confused and surprised that their ears are smoking as if to suggest that their brains are fried.

Eventually Silver Spoon is the first to recover by shaking her head enough to clear it then looks over to Button as she says, “Wait. Time out for a second. So you mean to tell me that this is Sweetie's real body but it's occupied by Button Mash's mind?” She looks at me as she continues her questions. “And this is Sweetie Belle's mind but she's inhabiting a body of an unknown changeling?”

“See? You got it!” Scootaloo cheers in a fairly nonchalant way. “I told you it isn't difficult to understand.”

“But it is difficult to accept!” Diamond cries out. “I can't believe this!”

“You're the one who insisted that I wasn't Sweetie Belle,” Button reminds Diamond. “So you have to at least partially believe it.

“Sweetie is right, too. You really were close to the truth with your first guess. I'm kind of amazed, actually. You should totally become a detective.”

Diamond winces at Button narrowly as she asks, “Detective? You were dropping so many clues that any idiot could have followed it.”

Button looks offended as he says, “Well excuuuuuuuuuuuuse me, Milady!” He points at my body. “I've been trying my best here but I'm not an actor and I didn't ask for any of this! All I wanted to do was stay home and play my video games, but nooooooooo! You fillies had other plans for me like humiliating me so much that I can barely think straight.”

Diamond suddenly regards Button questioningly and sympathetically as she asks, “It really is you, Button? You're really in Sweetie's body right now?”

“Not by choice,” Button answers with a sad frown. “While it's true that I didn't end up like this deliberately, I did try to protect both of our reputations by acting like her in public.” He looks at us Crusaders for a brief moment then looks back at Diamond as he goes on to say, “All we were supposed to do this evening is enjoy ourselves, by ourselves, so we could all be ourselves as much as possible without any pretenses.

“But, the moment you showed up and insisted in dragging us all around Ponyville, I had to keep up the charade so that I don't embarrass either Sweetie or myself.”

Button now looks down sadly and with strong worry as he says, “And now you know. You were the one pony I didn't want to know this secret the most.”

At first Diamond looks shocked to hear him say that but sad acceptance soon settles into her as she theorizes, “Because you were afraid that I'd use that secret to take advantage of you two, didn't you?” Her question sounded more like a statement.

Button gives a very faint nod as he has my eyes tear up. I can see and smell the fact that he very much was and still is terrified that Diamond will take advantage of us now that she's armed with our secret.

I can well understand why he'd fear that, too, given her history as a bully at our school, but I also think he's wrong about her. I know for a fact that Diamond has become a much better pony since the early days of her youth. With the encouragement of the Cutie Mark Crusaders, she's seen the light of her cutie mark. I now have faith in Diamond. She's a very kind and generous pony now. She even reminds me of my sister a lot these days except for the fact that she's still bossy. Even then, Rarity can be like that too sometimes. She's very particular when it comes to details.

Wordlessly, Diamond slowly trudges next to Button. Once she stands next to him, he cringes from her very fearfully as his tears come leaking out with greater force. At this point, he is now shivering with fright.

As for Diamond, she's very still as she beholds this.

In fact, the whole room seems to hold its breath as we behold this scene.

Then, without warning, Diamond collapses onto Button in my body as she gently hugs him.

“I am so sorry, Button Mash,” Diamond whimpers in very sincere apology. “I'm sorry that I made you afraid of me. I'm sorry for any abuse you suffered at my hooves in the past. I'm sorry that this happened to you and that you felt so embarrassed about it that you felt you needed to conceal your true self on the assumption that things might become worse if you don't.

“Believe me, I know what it's like to try to conceal one's true self due to social pressures. The truth is I never wanted to bully any of you. Instead, I just wanted to be friends.

“But, at the time, I didn't know how to express those feelings and I was in a lot of pain because of everything I've gone through back then.

“I need you to know this, Button. I'll do whatever it takes to make up for what I've done in the past. That's my mission now. Until you learn to forgive me and not fear me anymore, I can't give up on my quest.”

“Do . . . do . . . do you really mean it?” Button stutters in a whimper.

Diamond squeezes him tighter for a brief moment and cries on my body's shoulder as she assures, “Yes, Button. I really mean it. I am a better pony now and I'll prove it for as long as it takes.”

“We believe you, of course,” Scootaloo assures warmly. “You were one nasty filly for a long time but it's okay. You're totally cool now. Almost as cool as Rainbow Dash in your own special way.”

“Wow!” Silver Spoon exclaims at Scootaloo. “That's really high praise coming from you.”

Scootaloo smiles with an odd combination of sheepishness mixed with pride as she closes her eyes, rubs the back of her neck, and proclaims, “Yeah! Totally!”

“Thah . . . thank you, Diamond,” Button says to the pink filly much more calmly. “I feel a lot better now.”

“Good!” Diamond exclaims with relief as she reveals to him a bright, happy smile that most definitely reaches her wide, shimmering eyes. “I'm so glad!”

Suddenly Button looks embarrassed as he struggles to maintain eye contact with Diamond. His gaze keeps shifting back and forth as he squirms in discomfort before saying, “Oh, and Diamond?”

“Yes?” she asks with a very friendly and open expression to him.

“I'm really sorry about dissing your tiara earlier tonight. I know how sentimental that thing is to you. Practically your whole identity revolves around it and it was really uncool of me to lash out at you about it.

“The thing is . . . I didn't mean it. Not even for a second.” He sighs as he rubs the back of my neck now. “I was just being stupid,” he shyly admits.

Diamond closes her eyes as she expresses brightly, “Why thank you for telling me that, Button! That honestly makes me feel much better.”

“Yer . . . you're welcome,” he continues to say shyly but also happily.

“And,” Diamond goes on to say as she opens her eyes back at him, “I'm so glad to hear that you're okay, Button . . . sort of. I know that being in the body of your own special somepony isn't ideal for you but the whole class feared something much worse for you. We've really been on the edge of our seats with worry for you. It would honestly make us feel much better if they were also told the truth.”

We are all shocked to hear Diamond proclaim that, but it's Button to be the first to object.

“No! You can't! Please don't tell them!” Button begs.

“Why?” Diamond asks as she tilts her head at him. “Are you afraid somepony will bully you and tease you about the fact that you're stuck in the body of a filly? Of your own special somepony, no less?”

“Well . . . yeah!” Button fearfully admits. “Of course! If they all found out about this, they'd never let it down. I'd never be able to show my face in Ponyville again even if I return to my true body.”

“Your whole class is worried for you, Button! We care for you!” Diamond promises. “We're your friends and we'd understand that you're the victim here. I promise you that no pony will tease you.” A slightly dark look sinks into Diamond's eyes as she goes on to say, “But if it does happen then you let me know. I'll have a little chat with that pony and set them straight.”

“Ya . .. you really mean it?!” Button asks with astonishment.

“Of course I do because I'm your friend!” Diamond swears.

I smile as a warm feeling sinks into my heart and proud tears rise to my eyes. It seems quite apropos that the one filly who used to bully us the most in our early years is now promising to defend us against the very same thing should it ever happen to us again. Bless her heart! She's come a really long ways up from the mean old filly she used to be.

“So how about it?” Diamond proposes hopefully. “Will you come back to school with me tomorrow and set the record straight?”

“Uh . . .” Button looks at Diamond with uncertainty. That same look is passed to me moments later.

“Both of you?” Diamond goes on to request as she now looks back at me. “You both belong there. You know you do. You know you want to as well. I say be brave and show as much courage in school tomorrow as you encouraged me to embrace when you asked me to embrace the light of my cutie mark. Well, now it's your turn. Do the right thing! Come back with us! Please!” she begs as she looks back and forth between me and Button.

Silence descends in the room for a few seconds which is broken first by Apple Bloom. The yellow farm pony sighs before she says while shaking her head, “Ah hate tah admit it, Sweetie Belle, but Diamond sure does have a mighty point there.”

“Yeah,” Scootaloo agrees. “And you have to admit . . . she makes a pretty persuasive case.” She shrugs. “But that's something we have to expect from a pony who has a cutie mark which basically stands for leadership.”

“A leader is only as strong as her weakest follower,” Diamond announces. “For me to be a good leader, I have to encourage strength in all of my followers. To do any less would be a detriment to us all. We all win together or we lose together.” She smiles warmly. “But either way . . . we are together and that is what's most important.

“So what do you all say? Are you with me?” she pleads with a look of rising hope. She practically gives me the puppy dog look.

That isn't fair! I've used that on others before so I know how effective it can be. To have that same tactic turned against me feels uncomfortably effective.

But worse is the fact that I know she genuinely believes in what she says. If I turn her down, I'm sure it would really hurt her. That, more than anything, is the most effective and manipulative truth here.

Beyond that, deep down, I feel the fact she's right. However the evil changeling within me warns that patience and strategy are very important right now. His original self practically threatened to silence anypony I speak to that leads to the truth.

I really don't want to endanger anypony, but Diamond is also right. My heart calls for this and I've learned for years now that paying attention to my feelings is very important if I'm to do my best work with our clients. All we really do is tell them to listen to their hearts as well. Should I really do any less?

I narrow my eyes as I realize that this story is about my life. My destiny! Only I say what goes on with my life.

I have to be careful, though, because it's not just my life on the line. Not even my club sisters fully realize that yet.

But I really didn't admit too much tonight. Diamond figured this out on her own and it was Scootaloo who filled in the gaps. While it might be considered a technicality, I hope it's enough to warrant mercy even from a cold, ruthless, and professional changeling assassin.

“Okay, Diamond Tiara,” I decide with sudden confidence in my voice. “I'll do it. I'll go to school with you tomorrow and admit everything.”

Button sighs before admitting, “I was afraid you'd say that.” He applies one of my hooves to my real face. “But, if that's the case, I might as well go too.” He drops my hoof back down and looks back at me. “Because, at that point, there is no secret to protect anymore. I'm still afraid of being teased but if you're all with me, I think I can face this.” He shrugs. “Besides, there is a strong part of me that wants to anyway. I want to reclaim as much of my old life back as I can. Even if I have to do it looking like this.” He gestures to my body for emphasis.

“Speaking of which, I also need to apologize for dragging you into all that feminine stuff,” Diamond expresses to Button as her cheeks blush with embarrassment. She shakes her head. “I didn't know whom I was dealing with. If I did, that certainly would've changed my approach. I hope you believe that.”

“I think I do . . . now,” Button replies to Diamond.

“So it's settled!” Apple Bloom declares triumphantly. “Tomorr'ah we all confront our peers and teacher in class and tell 'em everah’thang.” After she says that, she squints her face tightly in such great brimming happiness that she reflexively makes a squee sound. “After that, we Crusaders will be more fully united together once again!”

“Yay!” we three Crusaders cry out together happily and we high hoof each other. “Cutie Mark Crusaders together forever!”

Author's Note

And that is the conclusion of the Girl's Night Out saga. This chapter puts an extra emphasis on Diamond to show how she's changed. In my estimation, she's no dummy, or at least isn't anymore. There were too many oddities across the night that she'd catch on to which later drove her determination to confront the issue.

We even get to see her stand up to her passive/aggressive mother in this chapter whose only softened up a little bit since the show.

Because of her actions in this chapter, Diamond eventually learns the truth. Armed with it, she encourages a change for the next chapter because she believes it's right. She doesn't bully the others into it either but rather persuades them with gentle encouragement, compassion, and inspiring argument.

Chapter 31: Amending Fences

“Come on, Sweetie Belle!” Scootaloo cries excitedly as she literally leaps out of the schoolhouse at the conclusion of our school day. “Let's finally return to what we Crusader's do best . . . Crusading!”

“Yeah!” Apple Bloom agrees. “Ah mean, we haven’t done it in a . . .” the yellow filly trails off as she looks back at me while I continue to stand at the exit of the school building. “Sweetie Belle?”

I frown with a thoughtful look while staring straight ahead at nothing for a moment before I reach a decision then subsequently look at my friends.

“I, ah . . . Actually . . .” I began. “I need to do something else right now. Really, it's something I consider overdue.”

Both of the other fillies turn to face me fully as Apple Bloom asks me, “Why? What's up?”

“I'm sorry!” I say with a bit of a cringe. “Please forgive me, but I think I need to see my parents right now. As Applejack told me the other day, they are worried about me and now I feel anxious about them.” I look off to my side as I suddenly recall, “And that reminds me, I Pinkie promised Applejack that I'd get together with my parents the next day.” I frown as I look down. “But I gone through so much since then, I forgot that promise yesterday.”

“Oh,” both fillies say simultaneously as they look at each other then back at me. After that, Scootaloo reminds me, “But last time you spoke of this, you said you weren't ready to face your parents again. Are you saying you now are?”

A fond look creeps onto my face as I express, “I can't help it. I love them and I don't want them to suffer anymore.” My expression firms with determination. “So it's high time I face them again.”

Apple Bloom takes a single step towards me as she tells me, “Ya don't have to do this alone, Sweetie Belle. We'll be rat by ya side the whole way.”

“Yeah!” Scootaloo strongly agrees then points at Apple Bloom to her right with her left forehoof while still regarding me. “What she said.”

Again, a fond twinkle for my two friends creeps into my eyes, and yet I tell them, “Not this time. I think I'm strong enough now that I can face them on my own. Besides, this is a very personal issue.”

Scootaloo looks taken aback as she points out, “But that's not what you said last time. When we visited your parents' place with you before, you said you appreciated the fact we were there to support you.”

“Yeah!” Apple Bloom agrees. “Ya don't haffta face this ah'lone, Sweetie Belle.”

“Thanks, girls,” I express to them very gratefully. “I mean it.” I shake my head. “But I'm afraid this time I must insist. I can, and will, face my parents on my own.” I lift my head up straight as I add, “Besides, Ocellus told me that Starlight spoke with my parents and explained what happened to me very clearly so there's no confusion anymore. All we have to do now is work through our emotional pain, and trust me . . . that would be better accomplished if I was alone with them.”

Apple Bloom and Scootaloo glance at each other with a bit of a worried expression still on their faces. They look back at me with thin confidence as Apple Bloom says, “Well . . . if yer sure.”

I frown slightly as I gaze forward with determination while privately also hoping that I made the best decision.

There it is. My parents’ place. Technically my place too.

I swallow hard. I am nervous but also resolved.

After gulping nervously, I proceed to knock on the door. I wait there for about half a minute before I hear my mother calling out to me from beyond the door, “Yes? Who is it?”

I grin slightly as I realize she can't see me through the small door hole. I am standing too low and too close to the door for that. I raise a hoof and open my mouth to answer the question but panic assails me. For a moment I am caught by indecision as I realize this is the first time I've spoken to my parents in several days after a whole bunch of other stuff happened. What should I say after all of that?

I wish I had Mayor Mare's talent for public speaking right now, but something tells me that that mare also takes her time to prepare her public speeches before she goes out in public. I'm not that prepared right now.

“Hello?” my mother prompts after a moment of silence.

Again, I open my mouth but nothing except a small squeak comes up.

“Sweetie Belle?!” my mother asks in shock. “Is that you?”

Wow! Great hearing, Mom! Apparently that small little squeak of mine is all I needed to say to alert you.

I see and hear magic envelope the door. Moments later, it pulls open. Once that is out of the way, I behold my mother gazing at me in astonishment. She gasps and unknowingly applies a hoof near her chest.

“Uh . . . huh . . . Hi Mom,” I greet her a bit shyly as I wave hi to her.

“SWEETIE BELLE!” my mother cries out then immediately launches forward until she embraces me in a tight hug.

“What did you say, Honey?” I hear my father calling from further within the dwelling. “Did you say Sweetie Belle?!” he asks with sharply rising, almost frantic excitement. The next thing I hear is my father stumbling to the entrance and probably knocking away any furniture in his way.

After the reception I received last time, part of me is a bit stunned at their reaction now. But I feel my mother shivering as she embraces me tightly. I feel the warmth of her breath on my neck. I both hear and feel her sobbing along the back of my neck.

As she releases her flood of emotions, I find I cannot hold back my own. This whole time, while I was trotting here, I tried to prepare a speech for my arrival. I vaguely recall that some of them even sounded good, but I was never consistent. When I tried to repeat the speech again in my head, it always ended up different. That's what happens when I don't put my thoughts on paper right away.

But now all reason and plans are just washed away by a tidal wave of emotions. I recently found it difficult to talk when I arrived in front of the door, but now I feel like speech is impossible. All I am really capable of doing anymore is stand here and be in this moment. No other action seems required or possible.

Before I know it, my father has surrounded his forehooves over both of us.

I am finally home!

I don't think any of us know how long we've been standing there at the front entrance just crying and hugging each other. I don't even recall when we later moved into the living room and simply resumed doing the same thing.

All I do know is we needed this. We needed to embrace each other. We needed to heal together. The only way we could do that is in each other's forelegs. Every drop of tears we shed is like releasing the pressure full of pain.

I guess I didn't really know what to expect from a moment like this. All my plans were apparently in vain since they got swept away anyway. We did the only thing we could do since none of us are ruled by reason or logic anymore. It's impossible when emotions become that dominant.

At least for a while. When we later recover some, we regain our ability to talk and make cohesive speech. It is very slurry at first but our comprehension and linguistic skills continue to improve over time.

Starlight Glimmer already made a lot of things clear to them but they wanted to hear how I was and am doing from my perspective. As soon as they ask, I realize I do not want to lie to them, but I can't tell them the whole truth either. As a result, I end up telling them an edited version of the truth. Nothing I say is dishonest, but it largely cuts out the parts about the evil changeling.

Basically I end up saying the same thing I said in school except this is a much less condensed version. I'm especially thorough with them when it came to my actions and feelings unless it pertains to the hidden evil changeling.

Apologies eventually pass back and forth between us but it feels like a halfhearted attempt compared to what we already went through. None of us really enjoy revisiting pain and passing blame. We love each other too much for that. Instead of that, we are all instinctually drawn to getting our lives back to normal however we can and as fast as possible.

Later on I forget how this got started, but one of the subjects my parents bring up in order to bring back some semblance of normalcy is to talk about a club that my parents started a few years back called the PPC, or the Proud Parent Consortium. That started during a Heart's Warming Evening that also happened to be Starlight's first attempt to join us in such festivities. During that time, my parents met and started to associate more with the parents of the other legendary heroines of Equestria, the Elements of Harmony. Once they started mingling, my parents came up with the brilliant idea that they should do this more often, and so they did.

Of all of the other parents of the other Elements, my parents got along with Twilight's parents the most. That is because Velvet Sparkle and Night Light were just as willing to discuss how proud they were of their daughter. However, unlike the others, they didn't just stop there. Velvet and Night also liked to brag about their own hobbies. When they did, my parents were surprised and delighted to find out how much they had in common and thus they could join each other. Examples of that are golfing and bingo.

It took some time to meet Fluttershy's parents. That meeting occurred as a result of Fluttershy's direct introduction. What the Consortium found out about them is Mr. and Mrs. Shy were willing to join the Consortium but mainly on their own terms. In their case, it primarily meant doing it in a place they felt both comfortable and secure with. They are a quiet and very peaceful couple that much prefers a simple life. They were absolutely willing to regale the group about their pride for their daughter, but they mainly liked to do it in their own home and over a nice cup of tea.

Strangely enough, most of their early tales about their daughter were not of pride but rather concern for a very sheltered and socially awkward filly who was too shy to make new friends. That was why it downright shocked them when Fluttershy got her cutie mark and suddenly wanted to live near the ground in order to associate more with the animals there.

In response, they granted her request through frequent visits to have a picnic there. Over time they had a new home built for Fluttershy there and only then did she move in all by herself. Fluttershy's parents thought that was shockingly brave of their daughter to do this and she was finally reaching out to others, even if it was mainly animals.

Pinkie Pie's parents didn't join the Consortium and they only visited once. They came because they thought it was polite to visit at least once but they had no interest to get together on a regular basis because they considered themselves too busy managing their rock farm. Upon meeting Igneous Rock Pie and Cloudy Quartz, everypony, except the Apple family, were shocked to realize how stiff they were compared to their own party-addicted daughter.

After the meeting, the group concluded that Pinkie's parents most likely did experience some pain that one of their daughters moved away because of her cutie mark but they never admitted that. Instead of that, they acted like Pinkie's action ever since getting her cutie mark was divine providence. They had an almost religious perspective of the situation and seemed to accept it with a simple shrug, but there was a hidden tightness, shortness, and curtness to their voice as if to suggest they'd rather touch on this subject only briefly then quickly move on.

However, it was also discovered that Pinkie's sisters did not take the news well either but, unlike their parents, they were too young to hoofle this with social grace when they were foals. Instead of that, their displeasure was deeply felt and known, especially in the case of the eldest sister, Limestone.

Of all the Pie sisters, Maud was the quickest to forgive Pinkie. It took only two moons for Maud to be the first of the Pie sisters to respond to one of Pinkie's many letters. From that day on, letters were passed back and forth so frequently that it almost felt like Pinkie never moved away, at least in this specific case.

Marble was next to forgive her pink sister but it required a personal visit to pull that off. At first Marble was distant and painfully shy around her sister as if afraid to associate with somepony who might “abandon” her again. It took physical contact, a hug in this case, to finally break down that emotional barrier. After they cried on each other's shoulders, their relationship looked up ever since.

But Limestone was, by far, the most stubborn of the Pie sisters to forgive Pinkie. She was even outright hostile to her sister for several years after moving away. She made her displeasure at Pinkie's visit clearly known and she proclaimed, more than once, that she no longer considered Pinkie a sister at all, nor a member of the Pie family entirely. As a result, she felt Pinkie had no right to set a hoof on their property ever again.

This problem was never solved until Pinkie finally learned that she had to be extremely persistent to crack this nut. To that end, Pinkie downright hounded her eldest sister with repeated requests to forgive her. Limestone kept yelling, “NO!” then galloped away as fast as she could only to discover, to her horror, that her pink sister had somehow already arrived at Limestone's destination and, once again, begged her sister to forgive her.

Eventually, out of both sheer exhaustion and frustration, Limestone hollered, “ALRIGHT! Fine! I forgive you! Just leave me alone.”

Young Pinkie replied, “Only if I see you smile!” She gave a great big smile as if to demonstrate, then narrowed her eyes at her eldest sister as she warned, “And it's going to have to be a genuine smile. I can tell the difference.”

Limestone flared with anger towards her sister as she practically gurgled with raw hatred, “Don't . . . push your luck! I'm not ready to accept you that strongly yet.”

In a rare moment of wise insight for Pinkie, probably because this was a pony she knew so well, Pinkie did back off on that day but under one condition; Limestone had to respond to at least one out of ten of Pinkie's letters or she'd return and hound her sister again. With a growl of annoyance, Limestone reluctantly agreed.

From then on, their relationship gradually repaired. This was evident in the responses Limestone's letters gave which gained more and more enthusiasm for her wayward pink sister. As they got older, their relationship further evolved when the Pie sisters agreed to spend at least one day a year rotating between each of the Pie sisters somewhere together. It's a tradition that Rarity assured our parents that the Pie sisters continue to this very day. When Limestone's turn came up, Pinkie discovered, to her growing delight, that she was met with warmer reception each time.

Mr. and Mrs. Shy expressed some sympathy to the Pie family for the distance they gained from one of their daughters as a result of that particular daughter's cutie mark destiny. It actually matches a statistic that happens to about twenty percent of all parents with their foals. Fully one out of five foals has to move away somewhere because their parents know they cannot properly nurture their foals cutie mark potential because it's too unlike their own. It's something most parents of the pony race secretly fear and yet it's too common not to get used to at least the mere idea that it might happen to them, too.

They know they have to do it, too, because they also realize that any attempt to deny that foal's destiny squashes that foal’s potential and chance for happiness. That, in turn, has profound psychological consequences down the road. That is also why, in many towns and cities across Equestria, it is downright illegal to deliberately keep their foals from pursuing their cutie mark destiny once it's discovered. The reason for those laws is because, in extreme cases, it leads to a foal's discoloration and eventually death if the case is left untreated.

Since they were seen as pseudo-adopted parents for Pinkie Pie when she moved into Ponyville, the Cakes were also invited to the Consortium. When that happened, at first they refused because they didn't want to be seen as Pinkie's replacement parents but the group strongly insisted they come. Pinkie insisted most of all. Mr. and Mrs. Cake were eventually persuaded to join the group and, unlike the senior Pie parents, the Cakes continued to come more consistently. The Consortium considered this a great blessing ever since because the Cakes often came with some delicious pastries to offer the group. In fact, it was the Cakes that really started the tradition of the potluck gatherings unless the group had other special plans for their meals.

During the meetings, the group learned that Pinkie was the primary reason the Cakes delayed becoming birth parents themselves. They always insisted that they didn't feel ready until Pinkie became a more mature mare. Until then, they wanted to dedicate all of their effort to fulfilling Pinkie's needs.

Pinkie, herself, laments the lost opportunity of growing up with pseudo-siblings. She thought it would have been fun to play with the yearlings when she was still a foal herself.

But, on the flip side, those extra years of practice apparently paid off when the Cakes finally did get foals of their own. All that they had learned helped them to perfect their parental technique with Pound and Pumpkin Cake. Pinkie proudly proclaims, to this very day, that the net positive results are very clear. She thinks that the young yearling twins couldn't possibly be more emotionally stable and fulfilled because of their parents' extra years of practice.

For very sad reasons, Applejack's parents simply couldn't attend the Consortium so Granny Smith and Grand Pear did so in their place, although they did so somewhat sparingly due to the strain it would put on them because of their senior age. It was actually Applejack herself who imposed that rule. This rule bothered her grandmother somewhat until she later forgot about it.

At the Consortium meetings, Granny Smith more than proved she had quite a number of long tales to tell about her pride in her foals and grandfoals. In that, she fulfilled her purpose in the Consortium very well except for the fact she tended to ramble on to many topics because she forgot her original topic in the mid-telling of her story. Sometimes she bored her audience because of that and sometimes it was really exciting and engaging. Either way, she tended to be halfway oblivious to her audience’s reaction.

But one thing Granny Smith did offer that dramatically improved the mood of the Consortium meetings is her social connections; The Golden Horseshoe in particular. Thanks to that group, the Consortium gained not only very helpful information about fun places to go but also discounts once there.

Of all of the Elements of Harmony, the parents of Rainbow Dash were dead last to join, primarily because the Consortium didn't know where they were and Rainbow was deliberately hiding that information for some reason. It was not until Scootaloo revealed their location that an invitation was finally extended. Before it was sent, though, Rainbow practically begged the Consortium not to invite her parents. She promised them, under no uncertain terms, that the PPC would come to regret this decision.

Despite Rainbow's strong objections, the PPC went ahead and invited Rainbow's parents anyway which thusly completed their social circle for this particular group. When Rainbow's parents showed up, at first it looked like a match made in heaven. Being proud of their daughter, Rainbow, seemed to be Windy Whistle and Bow Hothoof's primary hobby so the fact that there was a group dedicated to the pride for these particular mares attracted these two like a magnet. They were more than willing to proudly brag about their daughter's accomplishments.

But there were several problems with this. For one thing, they did it so often that hardly anypony else had a chance to talk. Even if they did give the others a brief moment to talk, it seemed to go in one ear with these parents and out the other. It's not that they didn't hear what the others said, it's the fact they barely cared. Every time one of the other parents talked about why they were proud of their daughter, Rainbow's parents seemed compelled to one-up that story. Their replies often started something like, “Well if you think that's cool, check this out!” then they proceeded to brag about yet another story of Rainbow as if it was the only one in the room that could possibly matter.

The second problem with them was they brought up trivial and often downright embarrassing facts about their daughter and yet they talked about it as if it was equivalent to Equestria's greatest honor, the Pink Heart of Courage. These were often extremely cringy tales that no pony wanted to hear, Rainbow least of all.

It became abundantly clear rather quickly why Rainbow warned the PPC to avoid her parents. Within just a few meetings, the Consortium reluctantly agreed that they had indeed made a terrible mistake in inviting these two.

Mr. and Mrs. Shy were especially traumatized by the meetings that involved these two troublesome ponies. The quiet and very timid lifestyle of the Shys meshed extremely poorly with the loud and obnoxiously bragging couple. It was difficult to tell how these two groups of parents could possibly be more opposite in every bad way.

After just two meetings with the loud and overbearing parents, the PPC already decided to change the date of their meeting and location just to avoid Rainbow's parents.

At first that worked until Rainbow's parents came to the homes of the other members of the PPC uninvited. They'd do it without any warning, too. They just showed up and practically screamed their pride of their only daughter.

Poor Mr. and Mrs. Shy especially didn't stand a chance against the intruding couple. They were much too Shy to request Rainbow's parents to leave. In fact, they did the opposite. They felt compelled to invite Windy and Bow into their home even though they clearly didn't want to. Windy and Bow, in turn, were totally oblivious to the discomfort they caused to their hosts. They took the invitation at face value and truly didn't expect anything else.

I, myself, clearly remember what my parents did when Windy and Bow did the same thing at our home. It was actually in the middle of the night when Windy and Bow lifted a huge megaphone to their lips then shouted at the top of their lungs so hard that the sonic boom it caused shattered a lot of glass across the entire neighborhood and they woke up many ponies for miles all around us. As usual, they did all of this just to sing praises about their only beloved daughter.

By then, my father had enough of this. He was so furious at them that he called the police for this harassment. They did eventually show up but the police force proved very reluctant to arrest the parents of one of Equestria's greatest heroines because it would be severely demoralizing to the nation if this became public knowledge.

Fortunately for all of us, Rainbow Dash herself bravely, painfully, loyally, and selflessly took one for the team that night by finally confronting her parents and listed off their crimes in the public eye of everypony around us.

Scootaloo showed up at my house that night, too, and explained to me that Rainbow's approach in confronting her parents this time was actually much calmer and more mature than the last time she blew up at her parents. Instead of simply yelling at them in frustration, Rainbow was being very clear to her parents on that night that she still loved them very dearly but they were also guilty of the following list of crimes. With each crime she listed, Rainbow lifted another feather on one of her sky-blue wings.

Truth be told, it seemed to me that Rainbow's parents were legitimately unaware that they were being that obnoxious but, once they were informed of that, they profusely apologized not only to every pony there but also promised to make it up to every pony they had wronged. They also promised that, if they were allowed to continue with the PPC meetings, they would severely tone down their overbearing and embarrassing attitude. They also promised to give others a more fair chance to speak and honestly listen when they do. They absolutely agreed that the parents of the other Elements had every reason to be almost as proud of their daughters and they definitely wanted to listen to why that is so. In their eyes, the PPC existed to be a cheering squad for the best mares in the world. They wanted to remain a part of that so badly that they'd be willing to make big adjustments to their attitude just to secure that right.

Since their apology seemed so sincere and every pony there was willing to forgive this blunder within this remarkably forgiving town, the police were willing to waive the crime this time with a firm warning. As long as they didn't do it again, everything was cool.

As my parents regaled this tale purely for the sake of helping us all feel normal again, I take turns settling on the laps of each of my parents. I press my back against their chest as they hug me and hold me close to their chest. I love the warm feeling of their chest on my back. I love to feel their heartbeat through that connection. I feel beloved and one of the most special ponies in their life.

They remind me, more than once, that I am among those they proudly brag about within the PPC. Both of their daughters ended up very independent and early risers to a professional career. They love that about us.

I, in turn, value the fact that they have always given me the freedom to explore whatever I wanted. When they asked me at every fair we attended, “What do you want to do, Sweetie-kins?” they honestly take my reply seriously. They valued my opinion enough to give me that option.

Usually I was prepared with an instant answer, too, but it was rarely the same one twice in a row. Exploring new things seems to be a theme in my life and now I know why. Sampling every trot of life is necessary to help me understand and assist such a broad base of clients and their individual needs.

It is very likely that my parents will always consider yelling at me and chasing me out of this home during our last encounter their greatest failure as parents within our lives, but the only reason that crime feels so severe is because it is measured against otherwise very high standards. Having only one moment of extreme failure compared to mostly consistent success is a big win in my book.

I still consider myself very lucky to have been born in this family. No matter what we've gone through, I will never regret being their beloved daughter.

And I will always love them too.

Author's Note

I actually have two major things to say about this chapter.

Issue Number One; I know it feels weird that a chapter focusing on mending the relationship between Sweetie and her parents, thus the name of the chapter, quickly shifts to a subject about the past history of a social group that Sweetie's parents helped to form, but here's the thing about that; I think it's in character for them given this situation. I think they would barely be able to talk at all at first because they are all so overwhelmed with emotion, but their second instinctual response is to quickly sweep this whole unpleasant business under the rug and subsequently do or talk about something that returns that feeling of being a normal family. Discussing the history of this social group was simply a means to an end for them. It's a psychological coping mechanism.

Also what they discussed might be quite interesting to the reader to get the backstory of the other parents of the mane 6 and their relationship with each other.

I'll be honest and admit that the part of the history between Sweetie's parents and their relationship with the others doesn't really further the main plot of the overall story arc much at all except for the fact that their tactic works in this case. It repaired their relationship together which is the main point of this chapter aside from entertaining the reader. When Sweetie Belle wakes up in her own bedroom in later chapters, there'll no longer be any confusion how and why she got back to her home.

Issue Number two: I actually deleted an entire chapter prior to this about Sweetie going to school with Button Mash, the CMC, Diamond, and Silver. It was mostly in recap mode and something felt dry about it. On further readings and edits of that chapter, it dawned on me how unessential it was, so I decided to cut the fat.

Chapter 32: Cold Reflection

This is what I've been missing for the past several days! Snuggling into my bed in my room with my mother singing me a lullaby as she tenderly tucks me into bed. Sometimes she gently brushes a hoof on my cheek to wipe away a few strands of hair.

As she sings, I see her above me as she gazes down with a face radiating the warmth of love. I see tears in her eyes because I can tell she missed this too. My mother doesn't always sing me to bed because sometimes either one of us is not in the mood.

But, after the separation we suffered from in the recent past, both of us feel like we need this right now. It's like crawling through a desert while nearly dying of dehydration then finally being allowed to get a drink of water within a discovered oasis.

My sister and I have always been very strong and independent but we've always known that our parents would be there for us when we need them, changeling shenanigans notwithstanding. That's probably why my sister and I boldly moved forward with such confidence in our hearts. It is because we've always known, deep down, that we have a dependable safety net beneath us to always catch us during the worst of times.

But, at this moment, I realize something that my parents probably concluded a long time ago, and that is how much we need each other to feel complete. They need to have a foal in their lives right now to sing to and tuck into bed. Their need for that is almost as great as my need for that to happen to me.

My father remains at the entrance to my room. When my mother finishes and my heavy eyelids drift asleep, tears blur my eyes as I watch my mother drift to my father at the entrance of the room. There they hug each other in mutual need then simultaneously glance towards me.

“Goodnight, Sweet Heart,” my father tells me warmly just beyond the entrance to my room.

I yawn tiredly before I reply, “Goodnight, Dad.”

“We'll see you in the morning, Sweetie-kins,” my mother bids me as she uses her magic to slowly close my door. “I'm so glad you're back.”

“We are glad you're back,” my father quickly corrects.

I'm too tired to reply with anything more than dimly and tiredly smiling at them, and yet that tiny smile is filled with the warmth of a radiating sun.

Then my door to my room is shut which extinguishes the last of the light in my room other than the soft glow of moonlight peeking through the curtains which slightly rustle in a gentle breeze.

This feels nice! I'm finally happy again.

“Sweeeeeeeeeeeetie Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeelle,” says a sinister whisper through my room.

My eyes pop awake. Considering how relaxed and cozy I felt just a second ago, I am honestly surprised how instantly alert I feel now.

But it kind of makes sense. I think that's the voice of the changeling inside of me who seems finally ready to talk to me. Whatever he has to say might be of critical importance, too. Maybe even life or death importance so I cannot afford to ignore this.

If, instead, it happens to be his original self and not the clone, then what he has to say might be even more important.

After all the effort my mother used to gently and lovingly tuck me into bed, part of me feels sad to ruin her work by using my magic to peel off the covers most of the way. By then it is enough to easily crawl out of bed. I proceed to light my horn a bit so I don't stumble about too much in the dark even though this is a room I am intimately familiar with.

I make my way to the mirror above my dresser. Between the soft moonlight and the dim illumination of my horn, I see my reflection clearly enough to recognize the fact that it is indeed not my reflection but rather that of the changeling clone. The interesting thing is the fact that his horn is illuminated too, but it is casting a deep green rather than my own soft green. When I see that, I am not convinced he needs to do this to “see” where he is going. Instead, he's only doing it because he has to since I have ignited my horn. He is my reflection, after all, so maybe he has to follow me to some extent.

“I was worried you wouldn't talk to me,” I say very quietly to the changeling on the other side of the mirror. “That I made a mistake so huge that you'd shun me from then on.”

“And is that what's most important to you right now?” the changeling says with disgust. “Are you afraid that you upset a new, 'friend'?” he asks while surrounding the word “friend” with quotes as if mocking the term. “Oh please! Spare me your insipid delusions. Ponies are food to my kind, not friends.”

“Then why are you talking to me right now?” I ask him. “Oh, and by the way, what is your name?”

He briefly opened his mouth a bit in order to answer my first question but he freezes in surprise when I suddenly added my second question. That freeze holds for a few seconds before he narrows his eyes at me as he asks me, “What makes you think I even have a name?”

“What?” I blink in surprise. “All creatures have names. Even changelings and I know that for a fact. Queen Chrysalis has a name. King Thorax and his brother have a name. Ocellus has a name so don't stand there and tell me that you don't have a name, so what is it? I'm tired of just thinking of you as, 'the changeling clone'.”

He waves a hoof sideways as he admits, “Yes, the rest of the hive has a name because they have lower standards, but the Ghosts abandon their name when they join our secret and elite organization.”

I widen my eyes as I ask with shock, “Really?”

He nods as he says, “My name is whatever mask I wear from moment to moment. We, who wear infinite masks, are meant to have no true sense of self-identity other than our loyalty to our Queen and the tenets of the Ghosts.”

For a moment he transforms into the image of Princess Twilight Sparkle. When he does, he says in her voice, expression, and friendly mannerisms, “For instance, right now, my true name is Princess Twilight Sparkle, the Princess of Friendship!” I see him gaze at me with an eerie friendly sparkle in her eyes as if she is genuinely delighted to see me. “I just love to read and watch as all my friends around me grow closer with the tight bonds of friendship. To see you now before my very eyes while wearing your true form puts a smile to my face and a loving glow in my heart.” He presses a wing to the image of her chest as she says with gratitude, “Thank you, Sweetie Belle, for being my dear and very special friend.”

“Okay, okay. Stop it! You made your point,” I express with a shudder. That performance is so accurate that it's creepy because I also know it doesn't come from a place of true authenticity.

As I request, he changes back to his true form. The moment he does, he slouches a bit and his shoulder blades tighten closely as if he's getting ready to pounce on me at any moment.

“Master shapeshifters do nothing and are nothing more than whatever ties us to each identity we disguise ourselves from moment to moment. True professionals, such as ourselves, give no meaning to our sense of self other than the mask we wear because that is our true identity! We are the masks we wear. It isn't acting, it is truth. By remaining a blank slate, we can color our souls with whatever color we need to from moment to moment.”

“Alright, but you did have a name before you joined?” I check.

A dull look cascades on his face as he shrugs and says, “Yes, but that is irrelevant. That name died when I officially joined the Ghosts.

“Besides, even if you press me, I have to tell you that I genuinely do not remember what that name was, nor do I care. I am one of the Ghosts now. That means I must remain a phantom. A nameless myth whispered fearfully in the dark.” He said the last word with a fearsome gurgle and a slight narrowing of his eyes.

“Ah . . . okay. Fine then. How about I come up with a name for you?” I compromise.

He shrugs carelessly as he asks, “You wish to give a name to one of the infinite masks I wear? Well fine then. Go nuts.”

“Okay.” I look up as I think back. As best as I can recall, the first time I met him in my dreams, he presented himself to me as a raven. I think his original self did likewise in the Everfree Forest. I don't know why, but he seems to enjoy that form for some reason. Maybe it has to do with tactical mobility, subtle countenance, and perhaps a shade intimidating.

A raven who is black as night. A smart and mystical bird who squawks riddles in the shadows. A bird who enjoys being mysterious and tricky.

I look back at the changeling as I declare, “I am going to call you Raven.” I smile at my cleverness as I add, “Agent Raven. A changeling spy with a mysterious and chilling past.”

For five silent seconds, Agent Raven just stares at me blankly.

“What do you think?” I ask brightly.

“You . . . are such a foal,” Raven proclaims with dry disgust.

“Yes, I am!” I agree proudly as I puff out my white fur chest. “Because I am Sweetie Belle. That's how I roll.”

Raven groans in annoyance then shakes his head as he says carelessly, “Whatever. It doesn't really matter.”

“Yes it does,” I disagree. “A name is very important. Having an identity of your own marks who you are. You are not really the masks you wear, you're simply you who chooses to wear a mask from moment to moment.”

“I wouldn't expect you to understand,” he replies dryly.

I give a brief sigh before saying, “Maybe not. I didn't grow up in a cold and cruel environment like you did. Thank Celestia.

“But just because you no longer have a name before doesn't mean you can't acquire one now. I just gave you a name like my parents chose for me.” I shake my head as I say, “I didn't have a chance to argue with it when I was born. I was too young to dispute or agree with it back then. Instead, I view it as a gift that my parents gave me. They gave me life then gave me a name. I cherish them both for it.”

“You and I grew up in vastly different worlds,” Agent Raven acknowledges. He shakes his head slightly before he goes on to say, “But all of that is irrelevant. What I came here to talk to you about tonight is the repercussions of your actions earlier today.”

I frown as I say, “I know, I know. You've come to tell me that I've been a very foolish girl today and that I should have listened to and obeyed you.”

He grins a bit as he says, “Actually, what I've come to tell you tonight is that your emotional blunder may work in our favor.”

I immediately brighten as I ask him, “Really?”

“Be that as it may, you acted in character with yourself and my original would know that. You also didn't deliberately leak the secret and my original self should catch on to that as well. You behaved in accordance with your natural personality. We can at least accept that and calculate the repercussions in accordance with your actions.”

Raven gives me a devious grin as he goes on to say, “The fact of the matter is I don't think what you've done complements his plans. You are an anomaly he was forced to deal with because of your fortunate circumstances. Clone or not, he didn't want to harm you because he considers our species very endangered. That, in turn, meant he was kind of stuck with you. He tried to intimidate you into silence as best he could, but the secret slipped out anyway just because you behaved naturally and others caught on to that fact.” He points towards the direction of my window from his end of the mirror as he goes on to say, “Diamond Tiara figured out the secret on her own. That's not your fault, and the only reason you confessed the fact you are now a changeling to the rest of your class is because she pressured you to do it and you knew she could have told it in your place if you didn't. Like it or not, she pushed you into a corner.” He shrugs. “By then it was too late for you to do anything. You had to play the cards you've been dealt with.”

He lifts a hoof as he goes on to say, “The important thing here is the fact you derailed his plans. Like an outbreak of a plague, the situation has grown exponentially beyond his ability to properly and silently contain the situation. Too many ponies know some of your secrets, now, so he's forced to roll with it which means you forced him to accelerate his plans before he was fully ready to execute them with flawless precision.”

His evil smile grows as he goes on to say, “That, in turn, means he's much more prone to make a mistake now. A mistake we might be able to capitalize on.

“Remember, I told you that the only advantage we have is for us to maintain the element of surprise.” He shakes his head a bit. “Now, so far, you haven't done anything that is so revealing that it hints you have me silently whispering you strategic secrets from the shadows of your mind. As long as he doesn't know that, you won't become a primary target.”

“So what exactly do we do then?” I ask anxiously. “It's nice to know that what I've done has provided an accidental opportunity, but now what?”

Raven nods at me slightly as he says, “That's the other thing I've come to tell you tonight. I have to explain to you why I'll be silent to you from now until the moment we need to strike.”

“Uhhhhhhhh . . . What?” I ask with a blink.

“Protecting secrecy, the element of surprise, means using a need-to-know base system. Any secret I tell you now you might accidentally leak to the enemy if I reveal it too soon so it is better for us if I keep you in the dark until the right moment when we need to strike.

“So, from now on, I'll be shunning you, exactly as you feared, except I want you to know why so you don't pester me too much in the interim. That, in itself, might lead you to make another mistake in your desperation.

“For now, above all, he must not know that I lurk within you and am plotting against him. For that to happen, you need to continue to behave naturally without the taint of my influence. For as long as you don't seem to be getting outside guidance that can actually threaten him, he should be convinced that you're not a priority target.”

Agent Raven suddenly narrows his eyes at me as he warns me, “But be warned, Sweetie Belle . . . your actions will have consequences that I think you won't like. By forcing his hoof to accelerate his plans, he may be forced to advance his in a way that could be messier with your friends. Acting with precision means doing what he needs to do without anypony becoming aware of it. If, however, he is forced into an accelerated pace then he might have to accept some casualties along the way.”

“What?!” I ask with horrified shock.

“Shhhhhhh,” he hisses. “Keep your voice down.”

“How is that an advantage?” I ask fearfully. “Now I know my friends are in danger.”

“They were in danger regardless,” Raven reminds me coldly. “At least this way it gives us a greater chance to circumvent his plans.”

I start to cry as I object, “But . . . but . . .”

“This is war, Sweetie Belle!” Raven growls at me tightly. “There are always casualties in war. The trick is to make sure there are fewer on our side, not none, for that is an unrealistic goal. More importantly is that, in war, we have to aim for victory, otherwise all of our efforts are for naught.”

I frown as I look down sadly.

“Some of your friends consider themselves heroes,” Raven reminds. “I think that means they'd gladly accept some sacrifice if it meant protecting their friends from enslavement. They'd gladly lay down their lives to prevent that fate and you need to accept that, Sweetie Belle. They might die, but it is important for us to ensure their deaths have value and meaning, or else their sacrifice will be in vain.”

He shakes his head before he says, “Conflict is inevitable now, Sweetie Belle. You ensured that but that's a good thing. It is a blessing in disguise. Before this, he was going to slip into control and firmly entrench his position before he ever revealed himself. Had that happened, none of you ponies would have stood a chance.”

Tears drip from my muzzle.

“Cry all you wish, you pathetic foal,” he sneers coldly. “None of that derails our plans because it's expected of you, although don't make the reasons too clear. Just follow your sniveling and weak little heart just as you have always done. Do whatever comes naturally to you. For now, that's the plan until he gives us a better opportunity for action.”

He lifts his head up straight as he proclaims, “Until then, we shall not meet again.”

He extinguishes the light from his horn. As a result, he fades away which replaces his reflection with mine. When that happens, I cry out in panic, “WAIT!”

But, of course, he does not. I now stand in silence as I stare at my own reflection.

Until my bedroom door bursts open.

“Sweetie Belle, what is it?” my mother cries out anxiously while she's still in the middle of floating her nightgown on. My father rushes up behind her mere moments later.

“I, ah . . .” I look at them painfully for a moment. I want to be fully honest with them but the mistakes I have already made might be too dire as it is, so I look down in shame. “Nothing, Mother,” I lie. “It was just a bad dream.”

Chapter 33: Today I Learned That ...

“There you go, Sweetie Belle! You did it!” Ocellus cheers as she claps her forehooves.

“I did, didn't I?” I acknowledge proudly as I look back at my rapidly flapping wings.

While I look away from Ocellus, however, my smile subtly drops since part of me is convinced I'm picking up these skills too quickly. I'm not complaining since this is helping me get more quickly proficient with basic changeling skills, but what else am I subconsciously absorbing?

“Uhhhhhh,” Scootaloo blinks. “She has yet to take off from the ground, though,” she remarks in some disappointment. “All she's really done so far is flap her wings really fast. I can do that.”

“Yeah, but that's an important fundamental lesson,” Ocellus lectures my orange filly friend. “Changelings don't fly like you ponies do.”

“What do you mean?” Scootaloo asks innocently with a curious tilt of her head.

“Yeah,” Apple Bloom agrees who is sitting next to her pegasus friend as they both sit on a white and red checkered blanket which is resting comfortably under the shade of a tree. “That's what Ah would like tah know, too. Pegasi and changelings can both take off into thah sky. That's more than we earth ponies can do.”

“Yeah, but the method is different,” Ocellus points out, “and we changelings have to learn each method's if we wish to fly in those forms.

“Pegasi, hippogriffs, and griffons all have feathered wings. There's more lift per flap for them, and the curve of the wing determines the angle of their flight.”

“Oh, here we go again,” Gallus, the light blue griffon with a white underbelly groans as he rolls his light blue eyes. As he says this, he is lazily laying comfortably behind Scootaloo and Apple Bloom and beside Smolder and Silver Stream on the same checkered blanket. “More lectures,” Gallus complains in a nasally voice. “I feel like I'm back in school right now. Normally, when I leave the classrooms, I try to get away from school work.”

“You consider this work?” Silver Stream, the lilac-colored hippogriff with deeper purple rear hooves, forward claws and beak, and two alternate shades of blue hair, asks with excitement mixed with doubt. “Because I sure don't! All these new lessons seem exciting and fun to me!”

Smolder, the deep orange dragon with yellow chest, purple fins along her head and neck as well as a spade at the end of her tail, upward curved horns, huffs a bit of smoke out her nostrils before saying, “It's nice that we're all hanging out again, but it's also a little boring to see you teach another stuff I've learned since I was a hatchling.” She looks at me with a little interest in her light blue eyes. “That said, I know you changelings can assume any form but don't let that get into your head. If you dare to take dragon form, I warn you not to assume mastering flight as a changeling, or even a pony, is going to teach you how to fly like a dragon.” She lifts her right claw and uses one finger of it to point up. “Spike made that mistake while attempting to learn from Twilight. He nearly crashed all over the place.”

“Agreed,” Ocellus concurs as she looks from her teenage dragon friend to me. “Every wing type has its own flight method so you'll have to learn them one by one.” She squints slightly as she adds, “It's kind of like learning a new language.” She lifts a hoof. “On top of that, each form has its own individual equilibrium. Changing forms, even if it's within the same species, can completely throw you off. Most other creatures have to learn how to fly in only one form if they are capable of it at all.”

Out of the corner of my left eye, I see Scootaloo looking down with a frown on her face for that comment, but Ocellus didn't notice.

“But a changeling has to continually adapt depending on the form they take. That is why most of the hive doesn't know how to fly at all except in their base form.”

“Is that true?” Silver Stream asked with surprise as she lifts a clawed finger gingerly near her lips. “I didn't know that about you changelings.”

Ocellus looks at Silver Steam as she smiles a bit and says, “We learn something new everyday, don't we?”

Silver Stream closes her eyes for a few seconds as she agrees brightly, “We sure do!”

Ocellus looks back at me as she continues to lecture, “And each species tend to have their own advantages. Griffons, hippogriffs, and pegasi can be the fastest fliers but they tend to need a lot of training to get the most out of their potential. Most of the time these species are fairly comparable to all the others.”

“Then there's pegasi like Rainbow Dash!” Scootaloo cheers. “She's the fastest flier ever!”

“Oh, definitely!” Ocellus strongly agrees with Scootaloo. “For that reason, I consider Rainbow Dash in a league of her own that even the Wonderbolts can hardly top, especially when Rainbow does her Sonic Rainboom. Speed is part of her cutie mark talent, though. It isn't really fair to compare her to the standards of any average flier.”

“No kidding!” Scootaloo enthusiastically agrees.

Ocellus spreads her ladybug-like wings and gestures back to them with a hoof as she lectures, “Now changeling wings, at least in our base form, is very different compared to most other sentient species because they are very thin and multi-layer. For us to achieve lift, we have to flap much faster, and while we might not be the fastest species in the air, you'd be hard-pressed to find a more maneuverable species in the sky.”

“Including Rainbow Dash and the Wonderbolts?” Scootaloo asks with doubt.

“Quiet, Scootaloo,” Apple Bloom requests to her adjacent friend. “Let Ocellus finish her lectures before constantly interrupting with new questions.”

“But I want to learn too,” Scootaloo objects.

“Well, it's fairly clear that Rainbow Dash is a unique case,” Ocellus points out. “But even she would have a lot of trouble rivaling the best of our species when it comes to maneuverability in the sky.

“Check this out,” Ocellus invites before she takes off into the air. The first thing she does is fly backwards while also going diagonally upwards and veering to the left. Then she stops abruptly, hovers in place for a few seconds, spins in a circle several times over, then sharply zips in several zigg-zag patterns. Sometimes she's spinning or looping while she does it.

“Whoa!” Scootaloo marvels. “That is impressive,” she admits.

“The reason I can do that is because of my flight method,” Ocellus explains as she gently lands in front of me again. “We have to flap our wings super fast to get into the air. You just saw the advantage of that. The disadvantage is we can't fly as fast as other species unless we change our form and learn how to fly in those forms. Also, this method of flying is very exhausting. We can't glide using our natural wings either because they are too small and delicate to support our weight in the air without flappipng.”

“Huh. I never thought about that before,” I realize.

“Me neither,” Scootaloo agrees.

“Me three,” Apple Bloom also chimes in.

For a quick second, I glance past my friends on the picnic blanket to yet another picnic blanket where my parents are trying to train Button Mash how to use my horn. He has summoned magical light to my body's horn which is already something I'm astonished at. It seems he's picking this up unusually fast, too.

Maybe it's like muscle memory. Our bodies just remember how to do these things even if our conscious mind does not.

Even if I go with that excuse, however, that would only lead Button so far. Even I'm still working on mastering my race’s innate magical abilities. If Button actually catches up to my level of skill then he'd have to learn to surpass it on his own.

“So when are we going to get to the actual flying part?” Scootaloo asks impatiently.

“It is unwise to rush,” Ocellus cautions. “Sweetie Belle should get used to the basics of changeling wing flaps before she takes off into the sky. The reason I say that is because, the further up we go, the more dangerous the consequences grows if she gets this wrong.” Ocellus focuses on Scootaloo as she asks, “You don't want your good friend, Sweetie Belle, to get hurt, do you?”

“No,” Scootaloo admits with a frown. The mere thought of that possibility already hurt her.

“Then we have to be careful,” Ocellus reasons.

“Pardon, but Ah reckon Ah have a question,” Apple Bloom announces with a raise of a hoof. “Can ya changelings trot on clouds too like pegasi and griffons? Ah ask because Ah never seen it.”

“Normally, no, especially in our base forms,” Ocellus answers the young filly. “But some of us have managed to pull it off by assuming a form that can.”

“Dragons can't,” Smolder puts in. “We dragons just plow through the clouds.” She looks off to her side as she muses, “Imagine if we could stand on clouds, though. The clouds might be a great place to store our treasure since it's inaccessible to land-bound species, and sleeping on clouds looks kinda fun. I wish I could do that. Whenever I see Rainbow Dash do that, I just-”

“Gwwwwwwaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh! This is so frustrating!” Button Mash screeches in a way that definitely sounds distinctive to me. “Why can't I do this? I should be levitating things by now!”

“Are you kidding me?!” my father exclaims in surprise. “You've been practicing this for only oneday, kid, and you can already summon and channel magic to your horn. Cut yourself some slack. You're doing better at this than my own daughters did. Shoot! You're even doing this better than me at your age!”

“A lot of unicorns struggle with this at first,” my mother consoles Button. “Patience is a virtue. Just like you're cutie mark, you just need to give yourself some time.”

“And practice,” Apple Bloom says to Button over her shoulder. “Typically no pony gets his or her cutie mark without some effort.”

“By the way, how does it feel?” Scootaloo asks over to Button. “To channel magic, I mean.”

“Ah,” he rubs the side of my head as he thinks about that before answering, “It tingles. It feels slightly itchy but I feel it in a place that my mind isn't trained to recognize. I also feel that sensation around my horn. It sorta permeates all throughout my skull but the sensation is strongest near the horn.”

Apple Bloom gives Scootaloo a grin as she says to her, “Ya know, if Twilight was feeling better and not so bogged down with Princess duties, Ah bet'cha she'd be all over this to do some grand research paper. This is 'er chance to study cross-species lessons. Ah bet she'd get a kick outta it.”

“It does kind of boggle the mind, huh?” Scootaloo asks Apple Bloom with a grin. “Have you ever wondered what it might be like? To have a horn, I mean?”

“Ooo! I had a dream that I had a horn once!” Silver Stream excitedly chimes in. “It was neat, but it felt really uncomfortable if something bumps into it. It's kinda like that sensation of hitting our funny bone except the throbbing sensation was up on my forehead.”

“That's a real thing,” my mother expresses to Silver Stream. “I mean, about that uncomfortable feeling if our horns ram into something. Some creatures seem to think we could use it as a piercing attack, but no unicorn I've ever known would dare to try that. That's much too painful.”

“Bah.” Smolder waves a dismissive and disdainful claw at us. “We dragons don't need magic horns. We're powerful enough as it is.”

“You got that right,” Gallus agrees with yet another roll of his eyes. “With your lifespan alone, you'll outlast us all by far.”

“And you're going to miss us dearly when that happens, huh?” Silver says to Smolder sympathetically.

“Probably,” Smolder admits. She tries to sound nonchalant about it but I can tell there is a little bit of pain in her eyes at the prospect. I even get the distinct feeling that she would not have dared to admit that much in earlier years.

But then she goes on to say, “My plan is to make new friends along the way to help occupy my time.” She shrugs. “That's the reality of our situation and we dragons have to face that.” She crosses her arms as she frowns while looking down. “That might be why we dragons typically don't go out of our way to make bonds with others, especially other much shorter-lived species because, if we did, we'd have much longer to suffer those consequences.”

Suddenly, Smolder shifts her eyes narrowly and sharply at Silver Stream as she warns, “Don't hug me.”

Silver Stream was indeed about to do that so she shrinks back sheepishly instead.

“Don't worry. I wasn't gonna,” Gallus honestly promises with a bit of an amused chuckle.

“I know you weren't going to,” the dragoness agrees with her griffon friend. “Silver Stream, on the other claw . . .”

“Yeah. I get’cha,” Gallus acknowledges.

“How come Yona and Sand Bar aren't here anyway?” Scootaloo wonders aloud.

“We already told you that,” Gallus says with a bit of irritation. “Weren't you listening?”

“Really? You already said it?” Scootaloo wonders.

For the third time, Gallus rolls his eyes again as he says, “Apparently you weren't listening.”

Scootaloo smiles sheepishly as she expresses, “Sorry.”

“We think Yona and Sand Bar are out on a date with each other,” Smolder says indifferently. “We're not sure where, though. We didn't pry.” She narrows her eyes at Scootaloo as she adds sharply, “Because we didn't consider it our business.”

“Aw! That's so romantic!” I swoon. “I sure hope that they are both happy together.”

“Me too!” Silver Stream agrees in a gushy way as she clasps her claws together and swings them to the side of her head.

Ocellus giggles. Gallus and Smolder look at each other dryly for a second before they both roll their eyes simultaneously and look away from each other, but they secretly seem very amused too.

“Well . . . come on! Let's get back to practice,” Button impatiently urges.

“Why is this so important for you to master so quickly?” my mother asks him while feeling perplexed.

“Because I need to know how to do this so I can use these talents to protect Sweetie Belle!” Button expresses with determination. “As her special somepony, it is my duty to protect her . . . but doing that as her complicates things. Only by mastering her magic can I protect her in a way that’s safe for her body, too.” He gestures to my body. “and her mind.” He then gestures to me.

In response, I blush while Silver Stream presses both claws on the side of her face as she gushes, “Aw! That's so sweet and cute.”

“Cute?” Button reflects in objection at Silver with a wince of disgust. “This isn't cute. This is a serious promise. My pride as a colt is at stake.”

“Your conviction is admirable,” my father approves. “But son . . . you are not going to master magic in one day. That just isn't going to happen.”

“Unless you're a baby unicorn,” I half-joke. “Seriously, yearlings are sometimes the most powerful unicorns in the world.”

“It's a phase,” my mother explains to Button as she looks from me to Button. “When we're born, we have an overabundance of magic that hasn't entirely stabilized yet. When it does, the next phase is rather difficult to break through. It's almost as if our lives are compensating for our earlier youth. During that time, it can be a struggle just to turn a doorknob with our magic.”

“You said it, Honey,” my father agrees with my mother while hugging her from the side in order to be supportive.

“But I have to do this! I have to get this right!” Button swears in stubborn determination.

“Protect her from what?” my father asks Button. “This is Ponyville.”

“Exactly!” Button shot back. “While we're here, this happened to us!” He gestures at my body again. “I don't plan on being unprepared next time.”

“Well, even diligent practice needs a break,” my mother decides. “Who wants cookies?” she asks while she lifts up her picnic basket with her magic.

“Will they crumble like your namesake?” Smolder teases my mother with an amused smirk.

“Ah . . . no. They shouldn't. I used the recipe given to me by the Cakes,” my mother, Cookie Crumbles, replies. “Here.” She floats the basket closer to Smolder. “Try some.”

“Ooo! I'll take some!” Button requests excitedly as he makes my body do a short, excited hop. He squeaked in a very familiar way when he spoke the conjunction words, “I'll”. Then he goes on to say, “I love me some cookies! In fact,” he makes my eyes go all shifty as he wears a mischievous grin on my face, “When I am at home, I like to pretend the kitchen is an ancient and dank dungeon. Traps lay everywhere! A pony has to stay sharp, especially if he pursues the ultimate dungeon treasure . . . the ever mystical cookies from the cookie jar!” He suddenly tumbles my body on the blanket as he looks sharply left and right. “Another day . . . another dungeon!”

“Hey! You stole that line from Daring Do!” Scootaloo accuses.

“Of course,” Button agrees with a suddenly more casual expression to Scootaloo. He shrugs my shoulders as he adds, “It's a good line. Why wouldn't I steal it? Besides, it's true.”

“Eh.” Scootaloo shifts her head to the side and continues to look at Button with her narrowed left eye. “As long as you realize that and give credit where credit is due, I guess that it's okay for you to say that.”

“Ooo! I want some cookies too!” I cry out excitedly then scramble over to the blanket with my parents on it.

“I guess we're taking a break, then?” Ocellus figures questioningly.

“Kids will be kids,” Gallus says with an amused smirk on his beak.

“Hey, if you all think that is good, you should try dragon scones,” Smolder encourages.

“Ooo! What's that?” Silver Stream asks her dragon friend excitedly.

“A delicious dragon secret,” Smolder answers. “Try to steal our treasure and we'll burn you!” She lifts a finger. “But if you partake of our treats when we willingly offer them, we consider this very polite.”

“Wait a second.” Gallus narrows his eyes at Smolder with shrewd suspicion as he asks, “Does dragon scones require us to be fireproof to eat them and expect to continue to live?”

Smolder suddenly hissed through clenched teeth as she's reminded of something before she says, “Um . . . you know what? Nevermind. I withdraw the offer.”

Gallus's facial expression deadpans as he asks, “They're molten rocks, aren't they?”

Smolder grins shyly as she admits, “Pretty much. Yeah.”

Upon hearing that, we Crusaders giggle together.

It's nice to have a pleasant day like this where we all hang out together as friends and family. I love this.

Author's Note

A calm before the storm chapter that fulfills promises made in earlier chapters.

One of my editors, Onxy Rose, commented that she grew hungry for cookies the moment Cookie Crumbles offered such a thing to those around her. I'm curious if any of you experienced a similar reaction.

While writing this story, I actually grew surprised at how Occelus's role in this story almost suddenly dropped off after but her absence was explained in Chapter 23: Makeover. One thing I had to keep in mind is, although many chapters have passed since then, not much time has passed within the story itself. It's just a few days. Another thing to keep in mind is Ocellus has other friends to hang out with too and they'd start to complain if she's absent from them for too long. She has some secrets to protect, too, so Ocellus couldn't explain all the reasons for her absence back then. Without that explanation, they'd pressure her to join them a little harder which is honestly something she wanted to do anyway. Sweetie herself was the real clincher to that decision. She encouraged Ocellus to join her friends in order to help alleviate some of her own guilt.

But here Occelus is again, fulfilling the promise of trying to help Sweetie learn to fly using changeling wings. At the same time, Button is focusing on magic lessons with Sweetie's parents, and Sweetie's parents are there because Sweetie made up with them on the chapter exactly before this one. It all comes together.

By examining the way this chapter turned out, it's easy to imagine that they all agreed to do this together since the two of them were focusing on learning new skills. Everyone else just decided to hang out together while they're at it. Since they went that far, might as well bring a picnic blanket and picnic basket full of food too.

Chapter 34: As Time Passes

“Okay! I got it, Mom!” I exasperate to my mother while still having a fond glint at her. “I can take care of the rest on my own. I'm a big girl now.”

“Okay,” my mother replies while I see concern linger on her face. “I'm just checking.” She backs out of my room and envelops my doorknob with her magic. “Good night, Sweetie. I hope you feel better tomorrow.”

I have to bite my tongue for a bit to prevent telling my mother the concerning truth. Instead, I flash her a reassuring but also disingenuous smile as I tell her somewhat honestly, “I hope so too, Mom.”

My mother waves at me one more time before she fully shuts the door.

I settle back into my desk chair as I release a long sigh. It is only then that I realize something. I spin around in my chair then roll it to the window. Using my magic, I part my curtains and view beyond, particularly in a downward direction.

There, as I predicted, I see my two best friends, Scootaloo and Apple Bloom. Apple Bloom, in particular, doesn't usually follow me this far to my home. That is a testament to her concern for me.

Like I did for my mother, I smile reassuringly at them and even wave at them despite the fact I don't feel it in my heart, for I know that things will get worse before they get better.

My strategy works. They return my smile and wave before departing. I correctly assumed that they wouldn't part from my home until they received some reassurance from me today.

But I know they need to get to their homes soon because the country is in a state of emergency lock-down. As a result, curfew is in effect. It's likely a wise precaution, too, because ponies, in general, are often very skittish when things go noticeably wrong.

After my friends leave, I realize I'm finally alone enough to review some of my thoughts of the past few weeks which is a situation of some building urgency of late.

I've been mulling this over for quite some time now about the risks of writing down some of my thoughts. If ponies know what has really been going on through my head lately then I think it would raise some eyebrows and concerns from even the good ponies. If these thoughts fell into the wrong hooves then it's ten times worse.

But I have to do it. I have to express myself somehow. A record of this might come in hoofy too later on. I just need to think of a way . . . to . . .

Hmm. I think I have an idea. Actually, it's pretty brilliant.

I roll myself back to my desk then float out a piece of paper and a quill. I dip the quill in ink then hover it over the paper. I take a moment to organize a mental system for how I'm going to approach this then decide what exactly I plan to express.

When the quill finally flies on the paper, I write my thoughts like a diary but I disguise it as a music sheet. Every word and note in the song is just a clever code for the real message behind it.

In it, the real message that is secretly written is:

This is risky. This is very risky. Putting my thoughts on paper feels like a necessity to me but it could do so much damage in the wrong hooves. My friends might think I'm even more insane than I let on and my enemy is quite likely a skilled code cracker. He, more than most, may very well have the skills to decipher the real message buried in this song, and if he does, we could be in much greater trouble than we already are.

But I can't help it. I must express myself in some fashion and I shall do it my way. If I don't release these feelings then I'll be buried under them. There's too much at stake already to risk more mistakes due to my escalating pressure.

So here it is. My full confession. I hope this does some good someday.

It may be that I won't have the skills necessary to decode my own message when I return to normal. All I know for sure is, for the moment, I am definitely not normal, and I know why.

Agent Raven, and therefore also his original self and all of his magic clones, are most definitely true geniuses. I am more certain of that than ever because I've been living in one of his bodies for over a year now but his abilities started to manifest more within the last three weeks.

As my experience in this new state continued, I quickly noticed a rapid climb in my mental acuity. I still think I was smart before compared to an average pony, but the way I feel lately is starting to make me feel like I was an imbecile in comparison to how I am now. Raven is clearly on a whole different level than me.

Not only that, but he's an especially well-trained genius. So, not only is the limits of his maximum potential much higher than average, but he's had enough extreme training to push him to the brim of those higher limits. The only analogy I can think of that compares something like this to something else is average pony intelligence compared to a basic animal.

But I've learned something important about being a genius that I genuinely didn't know before. I used to think that having a super-smart mind means being better at absolutely everything that could possibly use the brain in any capacity, but it turns out being a genius is a lot like a cutie mark, and that is something I understand very well. What it actually means is being exceptional at some things while being average or even slow at still other things.

Now that I have a better perspective, I'm starting to understand how many ponies really fit that category. Under those terms, Pinkie Pie can be considered a genius insofar as planning parties is concerned. She's also exceptionally skilled at memorizing names, birthdays, and basically the date of any festive event. But, just in case her memory fails her, she is extra prepared by having a large filing system that includes all the details that are important to her.

Pinkie Pie plans parties. Period. That's who she is and what she's good at. It's everything else that might go in one ear and out the other with her.

As a guest in Raven's body, what I've noticed is I have gained an exceptional acuity for noticing minute details. With these skills, I really could become a skilled detective. What's more, I have become an expert psychologist, particularly when it comes to the subtle arts of body language. Raven doesn't just smell emotions, he verifies his findings by other means as if he's too paranoid to trust only one source of information.

And speaking of paranoid, that's another trait that has been hounding me lately. I've been feeling hyper suspicious and that's kept me on the tips of my hooves. On the plus side, it's made me far more alert, but on the negative side, it's made me less happy. It's much easier to make an emotional connection with others if I can trust them, but lately, I've felt forced to keep checking if what a pony is saying is what they really mean.

To make matters worse, other ponies have felt more paranoid too and that is our enemy changeling's fault. I've waited these past few weeks for him to make a move and it seems he has several times over. By now it's become known that there is at least one hostile changeling attacking ponies out there. He keeps getting sighted doing something awful, he keeps getting away, and he always makes sure there are witnesses to share the fearsome tale. As a result, fear and paranoia have rapidly spread across Equestria, exactly as he likely intended.

The real tragedy of all of this is, once again, it summons racial suspicion and doubt within my race except, this time, it is aimed against even the reformed changelings. Ponies are still claiming they are forgiving, open, and trusting, but I can read a room better than ever now. I know what's really going on beneath the surface. It's basically the same stupid problem we suffered before Twilight's coronation when the three tribes of ponies were almost suddenly turned against each other.

It has become painfully clear to me now that, when hardship finally rears its ugly head, ponies show their true colors. As a species that is traditionally herbivores and prey, there's a primitive fearful instinct we can't deny deep down. Since we are a society used to a thousand years of relative peace, we break down awfully fast when things get too real, especially if there's very little time to adjust.

The most recent and severe of these attacks from the enemy changeling is a direct and, more importantly, successful assault against Princess Twilight Sparkle during this year’s Grand Galloping Gala. Notably the first she tried to host without the aid of her mentor. In that very public event, an evil changeling revealed his true form and stabbed the princess before escaping. That's the second direct assault she's survived this year, and like the first, I'm almost perfectly certain the attack was not meant to kill. If it was, she'd be dead.

Instead of that, the changeling is merely trying to send a message to the rest of Equestria. If I had to put that message into words based on the pattern of behavior he's displayed thus far, it would translate like this: “Be afraid, Equestria. Be very afraid. I've just proven that even your most beloved monarch is vulnerable to my assault and I can do it no matter how much security you try to place in my way. If I can wound a mare as powerful as her and get away with it in full public view, then imagine what I can do to you. From now on, you are forced to distrust even the most recognized face because every face might be a mask that is hiding ME!”

I know Twilight wouldn't want her citizens to panic. I know she would want everypony to trust each other and get along in friendship and harmony, but these current circumstances are making it impossible for her, at least for now. Likely with some reluctance, she is forced to step up security across her nation because to not do so would impinge upon her citizens’ faith in her leadership. She has to show some strength during adversity or no pony would trust her again.

Which plays her right into the enemy's hooves and she probably knows it.

I can respect Twilight's position better than ever now, for my own situation is similar enough to make me sympathize with her. Now that I know what it feels like to be a genius, I also know its consequences. Not only can our minds think at a much faster rate, they also must do so. It's actually painful to us to not receive enough stimulation because our minds hunger for information all the time.

No wonder ponies like Twilight and Sunburst fill their head with so much book information. They had to or else they'd be too bored.

This also helps to explain to me why Twilight freaks out as much as she does. With her mind absorbing so much information at a time, she can occasionally be overwhelmed with too much stimulation. That, in turn, overwhelms her emotions. Once she starts to lose her emotional balance then every step she takes thereafter is one stumbling step after another. She has to pause a moment and reorient herself or she'll keep on doing it.

I've heard her friends are typically the ones who have to bail her out and talk sense into her when things get that bad. They even coined a term for her whenever she does that, a state they affectionately call, “Twilighting”, or “Twili-nanners” .

Despite my greater acuity to dissect the inner mental workings of others, I've also noticed an increasing emotional disconnection to others which is likely rooted in instinctual distrust. Now I can be a good liar and actor but there's also this subconscious habit of thinking that others might also be that way to me. These new instincts have prompted me to guard my secrets as much as possible but also investigate, and possibly exploit, others for their secrets. If I am driven to feel like others are lying to me then I have an equally strong drive to discover the hidden truth.

This is important to note because I know that is how Agent Raven, his original self, and all the clones also think.

By dissecting myself and all of my new habits, I've grown surprised to notice that he is not a power-lusting mad changeling, as Raven seemed to have alluded to in my first open dialog with him, but rather a very mission-oriented individual. He doesn't want power for its own sake. Instead, it is merely a means to an end. He feels driven to succeed in his missions with as much perfection as possible no matter what that mission is. He'll use whatever means are at his disposal to accomplish that goal. To him, there is no morally white, gray, or black. Just success or failure.

Across these past three weeks, I've grown concerned that these new instincts, reflexes, and impressions I've gained are also taking something away. I've been afraid that as I become him more, I am myself less.

But across that time, what I've noticed instead is everything that makes me Sweetie Belle is still there. I still love my friends and family. I still remember the reasons behind all of my personality and choices in life.

Instead of losing something, I've gained something but that, in turn, is modifying, mutating, and twisting what's already there. Steadily I am growing into a blend of the two personality types but still heavily leaning on being Sweetie Belle because all of my memories of being her are still intact.

As for the memories of being Agent Raven, it's more of a subconscious instinct which is why it feels especially weird when I gain highly unusual skills like now being able to read multiple foreign languages. I see the foreign letters and I simply feel what sound it makes. I also instinctually know how to combine those letters and pronounce them properly, and I even know how to translate them back to my native ponish language. The one thing I can't do is explain how I acquired these new skills because I have no memories to back them up.

All of these new changes have certainly affected my overall outlook on life and I can't say it's in an entirely positive way. For instance, I'm getting bored in school now because I feel like I'm way ahead of these lessons. I had to bite my tongue on multiple occasions to resist the temptation to correct the teacher. I no longer respect Miss Cheerilee's knowledge or intelligence when I feel so vastly superior to her, but the part of me that's still fully Sweetie Belle feels sad at these changes. Emotionally speaking, I miss the feeling of looking forward to going to school because, back then, it was still a challenge, but now . . .

Now . . .

Now I feel like a grown adult stuck in a foal's body. It makes me tempted to just change my shape into an adult version of myself except I don't want to advertise my feelings to others. If I did, it would only further illustrate my new sense of disconnection with them and that, in turn, would concern them even further than I already have. If they grew concerned then I would grow concerned, but at least I know I still care about them enough to know that hypothetical situation would bother me.

These days it feels hollow to attend the Cutie Mark Crusaders meetings. At first I was excited because my new abilities allow me to analyze others even more deeply than I could before. Now it's not just instinct that leads me to the answer for others’ destiny but also critical analysis to back it up. With the ability to decipher how others feel in multiple ways, I've correctly led them to the answer multiple times now. I've seen more cutie mark awakenings these past three weeks than we, as Crusaders, have seen in six moons.

But when I look back at the situation, I've noticed that it's only been me that led the Crusaders to success lately. It's not about us anymore and that makes me feel sad and empty. They gaze upon me with awe and cheer on my recent string of success for the moment but I now have enough instinctual psychological knowledge to know what will eventually happen if this pattern continues. If I keep showing up the other Crusaders, they'll eventually feel obsolete. They'll look at me and ask, “What do you need us for anymore? You're the one mostly leading our success nowadays. Just keep doing that while we go over there to play and have fun together.”

We used to do everything together, including saying some sentences simultaneously. To do that, we have to be on the same wavelength, but now I also realize that we had to be balanced for that to occur. None of us can be superior or inferior to each other. Instead, we have to all be equal. Different, but equal.

Lately I've been pondering the virtues and pitfalls of holding back the answers to our clients’ problems and instead keep dropping hints to the other Crusaders so I can lead them to the correct answer instead. That option makes me feel a bit dirty because I'd be toying with the lives and very destiny of our clients just to make sure my friends feel more included.

On the other hoof, if it works, our clients will still get the answers they seek. It would just take a little longer and no pony else will feel left out. I can also cheer along with them too but only because I can predict a pattern of behavior and accurately calculate what and when they'll shout out so that I can pretend to be equally enthusiastic and spout the same thing that they do.

Being ahead of the curve is also very isolating. I miss being on the same wavelength as my friends. Back then, our missions had so much more joy for me because it was a challenge we fulfilled together as friends. We'd high hoof each other at the conclusion of every success because it felt so good to accomplish this together as equals.

Now it feels like either I dominate the spotlight or I hold back my own potential on purpose just so that my friends don't feel left out.

It hurts! It hurts so bad to feel this isolated from my friends! I'm still emotionally Sweetie Belle and, as such, I have social needs that don't feel as fulfilled anymore. As a changeling, it is more important than ever for those social needs to be met for it does not just nourish my soul but also my body.

Poor Ocellus. I know she has needs much like my own now. She needs her friends just as much as I do, but the town has lately regarded her with remote suspicion. Some just watch her more carefully and others outright refuse to sell to her now. Either way, that hurts my heart to observe because I know she's innocent. She's done nothing to deserve this recent hostility. While it is understandable, it's also clearly unjust.

The good news, however, is the fact that not everypony has forsaken her. This is especially true with her closest friends but it also includes some of the townsfolk. The Apple and Cake family, for example, have steadfastly remained loyal to her.

Just as I have gone through some changes, Button Mash has freaked out about his changes too and it's for the same reason but he's started to calm down about it lately. We tried to encourage him to think of all of this is just a new experience and an interesting perspective. The fact he likes the same foods as I did is realistic to me because he's now working with the same taste buds that I used to have, although I think we are remarkably similar in that regard by coincidence.

But, just like me with this new body, he's now thinking within my physical brain except its memories got replaced with his own. My subconscious habits linger in the background and it's had a subtle effect on him that's steadily accumulating.

For instance, now he likes to hang out with us Crusaders more often and, frankly, we've been just as welcoming to him because we love having more friends.

However, while he was just sitting in the background and playing one of his portable video games, we got freaked out when he called a word aloud at the same time the rest of the Crusaders did. What makes it even more freaky is I didn't at that moment. It was as if he was more me than me at that moment.

After the shock of that moment passed, we had to console him yet again not to worry about losing himself to this experience.

But, when we did, I kept my mouth shut, or rather spouted out a modified version of the truth because I secretly knew there was some basis for his fears. He is turning into a pony closer to me but I also know that gap won't be completely bridged. He will always be Button Mash too but with tweaks of my personality mixed in there.

What is more concerning lately is the state of his true physical body. As time passes, his true body is withering away due to disuse and lack of exercise. The doctors are doing what they can but it's clear that our present situation can't be too ongoing or the way things are now could end up all too permanent.

Things came to a head yesterday when a large group of us foals gathered together to play dodge ball during recess. A total of eighteen of us were drafted into that game. I came in somewhat reluctantly and I know why. I may not be an actual adult, but Raven is relative to his species. Because he is, I've been feeling older than my true age also.

However, his cold attitude and neutral detachment from others are modified by my own personality in my specific case. Since I care for other ponies, it makes me feel more like a caring, warm, and mature mother who should be caring for these foolish foals and keeping them from trouble rather than being humiliatingly silly by “pretending” to be one of them myself.

This also makes me sad because I likewise remember how fun it is to truly be a foal and enjoy our games together. How does a feeling like that feel so close and so far away at the same time?

During the game, we split the teams into two sets of nine. Diamond Tiara was the captain of the opposing team and we voted Pipsqueak to be the captain of ours. Scootaloo was on my team but Apple Bloom wasn't.

For that, I recall there was a silly grin on Apple Bloom’s face as she promised she'd not go easy on us, but there was also a playful glint in her eyes that promised Scootaloo and I that there would definitely be no hard feelings between us either. It was a look that we gladly shared back with her. It was an important reminder that, even if we're temporarily on opposing sides, we'll always remain the best of friends.

When the ball was tossed upwards, it was the opposing team that was the first to catch it as it came down. That meant it was the opposing team’s turn to serve the ball and try to tag members of our team out until either one of us catches it or all of us are tagged out and thus ending the game.

But when the ball was served at our team, something very unexpected happened to me. The moment I felt adrenaline surge through me, time slowed down in my perception because my mind was thinking at such an incredibly accelerated rate. Not only that, but I almost saw imaginary lines trace across the playground and the area we were at in particular. They were geometry lines that showed me where everypony was and where they would be based on a very rapid calculation of trajectory, speed, and noticing subtle movements on the body of every foal around me. I observed this as things unfolded before me. The lines predicted where the ball would be in advance, for example, and I'd later observe that the predictions are almost perfect, thereby confirming the unusual information I was receiving was indeed accurate.

I became hyper-aware of everything around me, too, including directions I wasn't looking. I felt like I could close my eyes and still remain aware of not only where everything and everypony was but where they would be in a few seconds.

As the game continued, I had a brief flashback to the time Agent Raven trained against other imaginary tall and deeply twisted reformed changelings in the dream training area he called “The Room”. During that time, I once marveled at how he moved through the battlefield with liquid-smooth motions. He never wasted his momentum as the battle wore on. Instead, he used it to swing to the next motion and the next and the next. He even used his enemies’ momentum against them and to assist his own.

At the time, it looked like magic to me. I had no idea how he was doing it, but when the dodge ball game came about, I got a taste of how he was able to accomplish that. By having time slow down, he had more time to notice what was all around him and calculate a perfect move for every second of battle.

This isn't to say that either one of us moved at super-speed, however, because my body slowed down to an equal degree as every pony else. Attempting to move, to any degree, within this hyper-cognitive state felt as difficult as trying to force my movements while swimming through jello.

It did, however, at least give me more time to plan a perfect strategy.

That's not all. In order to dodge the ball, I subconsciously morphed my joints and muscles in such a way to permit them to bend in very unnatural ways, or better to say very uncommon ways. With a great deal of training, the most flexible of my race probably could have pulled this off too, but what I accomplished during that game was extremely uncanny for a mere foal to perform. I almost effortlessly pulled off what would normally require a cutie mark awakening to accomplish and, even then, many years of hardcore training. Such a pony would probably have a gymnast cutie mark of some kind in this case.

The moment the other foals noticed my unnatural movements, they started to get sloppy due to the shock of their own surprise. That, in turn, provided me with an exploitable opportunity.

As the ball ricocheted behind me, I realized its trajectory carried it a few inches beyond my reach. To compensate for this, I secretly used my magic to pull the ball into my reach. Technically that is cheating because we unicorns weren't supposed to do that in this game.

However, I hid my magic by morphing it into a color that has no color. As such, it is invisible.

Somehow I knew this technique had its limits. It can only hide very low levels of magic. There are ways to detect magic but it required a trained wizard to be there and actively concentrate on a spell that would detect the presence of other magic in a certain area. However, the method I used, if done at very low power, is flawlessly hidden to the naked eye which is more than hidden enough for a bunch of foals.

As a result, the ball subtly curved in mid-flight towards my hoof. It happened so fast that most would not be able to perceive it.

This meant I had the ball and it was now my turn to serve it. The opposing team waited for me to do it but I didn't serve it right away. Instead, I galloped back and forth on three legs while holding the ball with my right foreleg and faked them out by making the motions of throwing the ball but didn't actually toss it. While that happened, the opposing team kept galloping back and forth as well in an effort to prepare themselves to either dodge it or catch it. While they did that, I visualized imaginary lines between them and waited for the right moment to strike. I also encouraged the right moment by controlling their movements using my own.

The gallop about and fakeouts were all part of a carefully calculated and strategic design. When the right moment did come (and not before several of my opponents impatiently complained for me to toss the ball already), I threw the ball in a very carefully calculated way and with a very specific degree of strength. The result was the ball not only hit my primary target but ricocheted between two more targets before the ball bounced back at me. The moment it did, I immediately tossed the ball back at my opposing team again. This time it bounced back and forth between four of my opponents but the ball didn't bounce back to me this time. Instead, it ended up bouncing less and less on their side of the court, but by then, I already took out seven out of nine opponents in two seconds.

When the ball bounced back to me the first time and then I immediately served it again, the first of my four opponents, in this case the gray plump earth pony colt named Truffle Shuffle, was hit especially hard. He got it so badly in the face that it knocked him down to the ground and later revealed a bruised eye as he tearfully looked back at me as if to sadly ask me, “Why? Why did you attack me so hard?”

Because I was so keenly observing everything around me lately, I noticed the look of shock on both teams. They looked at me like they couldn't believe what they were seeing, but it was only later that I realized the deeper implications of their horror.

One thing I couldn't observe was my own face, but I remember how I felt at first. I gazed down at my defeated opponents, including Apple Bloom, with vicious gloating satisfaction because, at the time, I felt drunk on the raw surge of power. I never felt more powerful in my life and it felt delicious. The confidence it brought and the surge of adrenaline . . . I was lost to it for a brief moment.

But then the horrified reaction of the foals around me sank in. At that moment, I had an epiphany. At that moment I gained the horrifying realization of, “This isn't me! This isn't what I'm like! I don't enjoy hurting others.”

“Trah . . . Truffle, I . . .” I stuttered.

Truffle turned away from me and buried his face between both of his forehooves and the blacktop pavement beneath us. Between all of that, he wept. During that time, his shoulder blades shuddered up and down a bit.

Out of the corner of my eye, I also saw the purple movement of Miss Cheerilee rushing at us to investigate why some of us looked so hurt all of the sudden, especially Truffle.

Apple Bloom also knelt beside Truffle and affectionately patted him in order to comfort him. After that, she gave me an equally confused but also accusatory glare as if to ask, “Why, Sweetie Belle? What's gotten into ya all of a sudden?”

Rapid calculations spun through my mind because I was reading the mood of everypony there and used that knowledge to predict what they'd likely do next. An instinct of danger sank into me which, in turn, provoked a reflexive aggressive response that I fought to keep down. I fiercely reminded myself that I don't like to hurt anypony and I especially have no real motive to make this any worse.

But since I actively fought against the fight response, there was only one option really left to me.

Even while knowing that it would probably only make the situation worse, I panicked. I spun about, morphed changeling wings on my back while otherwise keeping my same form, and flew away above then beyond the schoolhouse.

“SWEETIE BELLE!” Scootaloo cried out behind me. “COME BACK!!!”

I couldn't. Tears blurred my vision as I flew on.

Feeling spent, I float my quill back into the ink bottle then take a moment to catch my breath. The memories of what I've done on the playground still haunt me because it revealed, however briefly, that something sinister still lurks beneath the depth of my subconscious and there are very solid reasons for it to be there, but most ponies around me don't know that. To them, my uncharacteristic behavior probably seemed to come out of nowhere other than some of the behavioral changes they've observed in me these past few weeks.

I know they've been growing concerned. I can smell it and I've observed it both in others and in myself. Above all, I don't want to become a monster. If this confession is meant to reveal anything, it's that I am still a little pony at heart.

I sniffle as I lean heavily back in my seat. While doing that, I gaze up at my ceiling that is once again blurred with some tears.

In a way, I consider this a good sign. The fact that I regret my actions means I still don't want to be a bad pony. A bad pony would be pleased, or at least indifferent, to harming others, but I can never do that. I'm still Sweetie Belle. I'll fight to my last breath to hold on to my deepest and most important core values.

A grin flashes on my face when I recall being trapped in a cave with my fellow Crusader sisters and all of our older sisters. In response to my sister’s story of Mistmane’s determination to find out why one of her dearest friends went suspiciously evil, I said, “I’d assume there was too, if somepony told me either one of you two’d gone evil.”

My club sisters, and many others for that matter, have proven that they would feel the same way about me if I start acting out of character.

I lift my head again and gaze forward at my own reflection. Just like the past three weeks, Raven isn't there. It's just my reflection.

Or is it? It's true that I've been changing lately. Maybe I shouldn't freak out about that too much. Change is only natural over time. When I finally become a true adult mare, I expect to be different again compared to myself as a foal. I've recently gained some experiences that helped to accelerate and push my maturity in unnatural ways, but the results of those changes merely reflect what would have happened to me over time anyway.

The most important thing to note here is I am still Sweetie Belle. I am still the lovable and innocent filly who has been going through tough times lately.

I lean forward in my seat and reach a hoof to touch my reflection while I continue to gaze upon it.

“I forgive you, Sweetie Belle,” I say to my own reflection. “For I know you don't really mean anypony else harm.”

More to the contrary. Becoming a genius lately does not mean I'm necessarily doomed to a life of being jaded by a lack of a challenge. Twilight, Sunburst, and Starlight are all very gifted ponies too and they still find ways to be happy. If they taught me anything, it's that I need my friends more than ever. I can't afford to push them away. Not now.

But I also am equipped with foreknowledge about what's to happen. I notice more than I usually do. I see subtle patterns in behavior both in individuals and in an entire society. I see the underpinnings of trouble brewing because of the hostile actions of the enemy changeling and his very strategically planned design.

By now I am strongly convinced that Thorax's reformed changelings have been investigating across Equestria to hunt down the culprit that's been giving them all a bad reputation lately, but knowing as much as I do about Raven and the clones, I'm virtually certain that infiltrators Thorax sent have not only been overwhelmed, but some of them might even be replaced by enemy clones which means the original evil changeling now has eyes and ears within the hive as well. From there, he's probably planning on corrupting them from the inside.

However, in his eyes, he'd be thinking he's doing them a favor by restoring them to their former glory.

I grimace as I realize that Thorax is probably in grave danger now because he's an obstacle the enemy changeling would consider very harsh solutions for if that's what it takes to “save” the rest of his race.

Starlight Glimmer and Twilight Sparkle both know about the hidden changeling within me, but I get the feeling they no longer see eye to eye with each other. Twilight has been implementing some fairly heavy hoof countermeasures against the rising panic of her country which really can't be helped under these circumstances, but I think Starlight is beginning to suspect that her old mentor has already been replaced and is only “pretending” to be bothered with these new policies. True or not, that suspicion and distrust plays us right into our enemy's hooves.

I can't blame Starlight for thinking that way either. She might even be right. Raven, his original, and all the rest of the clones are well-trained strategic geniuses who have a lot of resources to build upon by now. I can already feel the foundations of our society crumbling again which affords him another opportunity to advance his plans in the shadows. While everypony is being paranoid and pointing hooves at each other, he won't even pause long enough to laugh in the shadows because he's so laser-focused on advancing his mission. Nothing, and I mean nothing else matters to him.

Because Twilight and Starlight likely don't see eye to eye with each other anymore, I think both of them will try and claim me tomorrow because they both know I'm an important resource that they can't afford to ignore any longer.

The only question is, which mare will get to me first? And which mare should I trust with the truth?

I ponder that for a moment as rapid calculations spin through my head until a wave of fatigue assails me. I realize that stressing over this isn't going to help me too much tonight. I need to save some energy for tomorrow because, one way or another, it is likely to be a long and challenging day.

But before I go to bed, I read what I've written first. First I re-read what the message actually means, and then I read what the message actually says.

It takes me a stunned moment to realize that I have actually written an entire orchestral symphony. It is complete with music sheets for every instrument in the band. There are song lyrics to this piece as well and that, too, has a coded message buried within it. This musical masterpiece of mine, likely the finest I've ever written, not only conveys my thoughts but also my feelings buried within the various octaves of the music.

Then again, I am not judging this musical piece from a professional standard. While I might think it could be a masterpiece, I wonder if anypony else would agree with me.

I lower the sheet as I muse to myself that maybe I should consult with Octavia sometime about this, but I'll probably wait until this crisis is solved first.

I fearfully but also resolutely close my eyes and wince as I inwardly promise that, no matter how weak or strong I feel, I'll do everything in my power to protect the ones I care about. Everything I've uncovered and discovered about my changeling host likely is only scratching the surface of his potential. While acquiring some of his talents may make me look like a super foal now, I'm probably still nothing compared to him.

And he has a changeling clone army by his side. Every single one of them can annihilate an army in their own right. Probably with ease.

But while he has precise focus, I have passion. As a result, he can never want victory more than I ever will. I have the magic of friendship inside me, too. He's not the first potential tyrant to underestimate it. One way or another, I will defeat him . . . somehow . . . but my preferred method is to befriend him.

I smile to myself as I realize that is a very pony thing to want. That's proof positive that I still am, indeed, a lovable pony at heart.

Author's Note

I realize this chapter expresses Sweetie Belle in a manner that is out of character for her, and even she realizes that, but the chapter also explains why this is so. This is a time skip chapter (hence the title) that also went back and recapped some of the events that occurred across that time. By doing that, it explains step by step some of the reasons why she changed.

And in a timely moment, too, since the story is winding to a close soon. In the twilight hour of the story she is given some necessary upgrades that help prepare her for the final challenge, but these new talents and "gifts" are also a devil's bargain.

Chapter 35: Subterfuge

I yawn tiredly as I enter the kitchen. I blink within a squint since I am still waking up as I commend my mom, “Something smells good.”

“Oh. Hi, Sweetie Belle,” my mother greets with an uncharacteristically serious expression. Out in the dining room, I notice my father lower his newspaper and regard me with a similar expression. Both of them also look very worried about something.

“Am I in trouble?” I ask with concern since I'm wondering if this has anything to do with the dodge ball incident the other day.

“You?” my mother reflects, then answers, “No. Not you specifically.”

“It's more like Equestria is in trouble,” my father groans from the dining table, then sighs before saying, “I wish I can say I am used to it, but today it's not just affected my business but everypony's business.”

“School is canceled today,” my mother informs me gravely. “In fact, everything is canceled. We have royal orders to stay in our homes today while a team of royal investigators go to each home one by one and verify every pony's identity.”

“You heard about the attack on the Princess during the Gala, right?” my father asks me a bit tightly. I don't often see his angry side, but apparently, this news is somewhat personal to him.

“Yeah,” I confirm as I lower my ears. “So I guess this is the Princess's response.”

“I sincerely doubt she was given much of a choice there,” my father says darkly as he folds his newspaper neatly using his magic and lays it on the kitchen table. “An open attack against the very Princess's life as she hosted her first Gala . . . the nerve of these changelings!”

“The changelings as a whole are not responsible, Dad,” I am quick to correct. “This is the hoofywork of one rogue changeling.”

“Maybe,” my father says with some doubt but then he taps his newspaper. “However, I have read reports of multiple changeling assaults occurred in distant locations and too close to the same time to believe it's the same one. You can convince me that they are a rogue changeling faction, perhaps one who is still loyal to Queen Chrysalis, but I seriously doubt this is the work of one changeling. That doesn't add up.”

“And if there is more than one, how many more could there possibly be?” my mother adds with worry. “The rest of Thorax's pack claim to be our allies, but what if this is all part of a coordinated assault? Maybe they are testing our defenses.”

“I don't believe what I am hearing!” I complain.

But that's a lie. I actually do believe this. After what happened across Equestria just before Twilight's coronation, I don't have as much faith in my race's common sense as I used to.

Pony feathers. I really am turning jaded and I don't like it. Is this what it means to grow up?

“Believe it,” my father encourages. “We're not the only ones talking about these things. That's what tends to happen when our race feels threatened.”

I sigh as I adopt a dry expression. I don't really feel like I have time to argue about this, so I decide to change the subject.

“Did we get any other visitors today?” I check as I glance back and forth between both of my parents.

“Do you mean your friends?” my mother asks me then proceeds to answer that question before I have a chance to deny it. “No. None of them have stopped by today. Like I said, we are under quarantine right now so we can assume they are as well.”

Although that's not what I meant, she basically answered my question anyway, so I simply say, “Oh. I see.”

What I meant was if any other official guards came to take me away specifically. Both Twilight and Starlight know that one of the enemy changelings hides within me except they aren't aware that he secretly switched sides. They probably distrust each other as a result of what's happening now so it's only a matter of time before one of them gets to me first today.

Last night I wondered to myself if one of them has an enemy changeling spy among them but I had an epiphany earlier this morning. This enemy changeling is a genius strategist and perfectionist who had plenty of time, training, and resources to rig everything to his advantage. There's no way he'd be willing to attack Twilight in open public unless it somehow furthers his mission, and the only way to ensure that it is is if he already set up a lot of things in his favor in advance. This morning, shortly after I got out of bed, it occurred to me that the best way to ensure victory at any game is to secretly play all sides of the board. Why choose which side to plant a spy in when he has enough resources to plant a spy in both?

So, in my mind, it's not really a question of if each side has a spy in it. It's more a matter of whom it is.

So it doesn't matter which mare gets a hold of me this morning. I am guaranteed to be in the secret compony of the enemy either way. After everything I've learned of him so far, there's no way he wouldn't be that thorough unless he didn't have the time to set himself up with an advantage. Given some of his brazen attacks, however, it heavily indicates he’s ready for the next phase of his operation.

Understanding is not a plan, though. Just because I can predict the pattern of his behavior better doesn't mean I'm prepared to counter it yet. Right now I'm still just winging it and collecting information.

My best hope is to remind myself that even a highly trained genius doesn't know everything. He can't prepare himself for something completely unexpected. That's probably why Raven encouraged and emphasized the element of surprise above all else.

All of us grow alert when we hear a knock on the front door.

“I wonder who that could be?” my mother wonders aloud. “No pony should be roaming out in the streets right now.”

“Except for the investigators,” I remind my parents of the very thing they told me a minute ago.

“You two, stay here,” my father orders us as he slips out of the chair and regards the front entrance cautiously. “I'll go check who it is.”

“Be careful,” my mother requests with worry for her husband. In response, he gives her a brief nod then proceeds to the front entrance.

I don't need to be a professional psychologist to realize there is a lot of tension in the air. It's very easy to see why, too. No pony dared to mention that the other possibility is that it could be the enemy changeling at the door instead, but we're all probably thinking it.

Even me, in a way, except I think there's more to it than just that.

I pause for a moment before trotting forward a bit in order to peer around the corner to the front entrance of our residence. Along the way, my mother frantically whispers, “Sweetie Belle, come back!”

Even if I wasn't influenced by the host changeling within me, I would normally do this anyway. I've always been a curious pony at heart and probably a touch too brave. That's gotten me and the Crusaders in trouble more than once.

Oh, the burdens of being an adventurer, even if it's typically on a foalish level.

I did not even need to check to realize my father would carefully peek through the opening of the door first because everypony is on high alert. I assume he already did that before I see him because I catch him breathe a sigh of relief for a second then proceeds to open the door. Once he does, I see a white royal pegasus guard dressed in a Canterlot guard outfit.

“Welcome to our home,” my father greets the guard. “I assume you're here to verify our identity?”

“You can say that,” the royal guard agreed. “May I come in?”

I narrow my eyes at my father when I see him step aside and sweep a gesture through his home with a hoof as he bids, “Please . . . do come in.” Apparently, when he says that, it does not occur to him that this could be the enemy changeling in disguise. Did my father expect to see the enemy changeling beyond the front door in his true form?

All of these security precautions don’t really amount to anything substantial. The only thing it really does is fool gullible ponies into thinking they are somehow safer this way.

“Thank you,” the white royal pegasus guard says before stepping inside.

However, he's not the only one to enter. Someone invisible also secretly slips in. I can tell by the feel of the whoosh of air that passes me. I also smell a new scent in the room and it's notably female. Faintly I also hear an extra set of hoof clomps enter into the house.

I nod to myself as I realize who this is.

“So what exactly is it that we can do . . . for . . .” my father trails off in shock when he sees Starlight Glimmer suddenly materialize. A moment later he tenses up as he probably incorrectly assumes that Starlight has just teleported into our home when, in fact, she entered in while magically invisible.

“Wha . . . Starlight?” my father asks in surprise before outright admitting his feelings. “Well this is a surprise.”

“I don't have much time to explain, so just listen,” Starlight says urgently and quickly. After that, she nods at the royal guard who nods back for a second before transforming into Ocellus.

“What?!” my father cries out in even greater alarm.

“Please just listen!” Starlight encourages. “Twilight's royal guards will be coming for Sweetie Belle soon, but she must not fall into their hooves right now because I am not convinced that they are what they seem. Either that, or they aren't working for the real Twilight.”

“Do you think she's been replaced?” my mother asks in alarm as she enters the living room but subtly stands in front of me guardedly. “But the Princess is the one who got attacked the day before yesterday. Why would these bad changelings attack one of their own?”

“To create confusion and paranoia,” Starlight answers immediately before lifting a hoof. “Look, as I said, I don't have time to fully explain right now. I have to take Sweetie into safe custody now. And, in the meantime . . .” She trails off as she looks at and nods to Ocellus. The blue changeling nods back at Starlight again before morphing into the apparent form of me.

“I'm going to act as a decoy,” Ocellus explains in my voice. “If the guards really are hostile changelings, I'll be more prepared to detect it and likewise more prepared to escape. I also have my friends on standby just in case.”

“And they can use the magic of Harmony in a pinch,” Starlight reminds us. She looks at Ocellus as she adds, “I've also given Ocellus a hidden enchantment which I can use to track her down later if I have to.”

“What makes you so sure that the Princess has been replaced?” my father repeats his wife’s concerned question. “She should be one of the most secure mares in Equestria.”

“And yet she was attacked in public just to make a point,” Starlight reminds my father. “We can't be too careful about trusting anypony right now, and Twilight has made a few unusual decisions lately. If she really is Twilight, then she probably made those decisions reluctantly but right now I can't take that chance without verifying a few things on my own.”

“And why are you both so interested in our daughter?” my mother asks defensively.

“Because we're convinced that the changeling body she inhabited has something to do with these attacks,” Ocellus informs. “We might be able to use that to gather critical intel.”

“And I already verified my identity by using unusual magic to get in here,” adds Starlight. “I did that to make a point as well.

“I know it's difficult in these times of great paranoia, but please trust me. I am the real Starlight Glimmer and I promise I'll do everything in my power to protect your daughter. That's why I need to take her now.”

My parents look at each other with equal degree of worry.

“Please believe me!” Starlight begs. “If I was the enemy changeling, why would I try to convince you to trust me instead of just attacking you and taking what I want anyway?”

“Mom, Dad, it's okay,” I assure as calmly as I can as I emerge into the living room too. “I think we can trust these two.”

“Everything is all so crazy right now,” my mother complains with a very worried expression. “First what happened to you, Sweetie, and now all this. If the Princess really has been compromised that what chance do the rest of us have?”

“I believe I have a way to verify Twilight's identity,” Starlight offers. “But I'm going to need to borrow Sweetie Belle right now.”

My father moves next to my mother in order to comfort her by reaching a hoof over her back. He also turns to face Starlight as he asks, “If it turns out that the Princess has been replaced, could you use this information to rescue her real self?”

“It will help,” Starlight answers. “Right now I need to figure out what's what and who to trust. Once that is established, I can move on to other plans.” Starlight stomps a hoof. “But I can promise you this as well. If I find out that Twilight has been replaced then I'll do everything in my power to rescue her too. After all, she's not just my Princess and mentor, she's also my friend!” Starlight firmly shakes her head. “And I shall not abandon my friends!”

I smell and see the firm conviction in Starlight's face and in her body posture. If this is a changeling imposter then he's doing a very good job.

I also have to remember that, if Starlight is replaced, then it is her real mind controlling this body until the original changeling takes over. We can test her with trivia questions about her identity all we want. The enemy changeling has found a full-proof way to nullify that potential problem.

But that also means that, until he takes over the body, this really is Starlight one way or another and she's on our side.

. . .

Until she's not.

My father casts a long sigh as he closes his eyes, turns his face to my mother, and rests it on the side of her head, then says, “Then take her . . . before we change our minds.”

“Thank you! You won't regret this. I promise!” Starlight swears to my parents then regards me. “Come, Sweetie Belle. We must depart.”

“Okay.” I comply by trotting over to her side. Next thing I know, my vision is briefly obstructed by a teal flash followed by a rain of magical sparkles.

Author's Note

For quite some time I had this chapter combined with the next. Looking at it now, this one seems a little short but I think this is still the right call because if this was combined with the next, that combined chapter would be a bit too long. But moreover, the subject of the next chapter is too unrelated to this one. This one leads into the next but really tackles a different subject, so it seems better to separate them.

Chapter 37: Bringing it All Together

For the second time today, I am teleported someplace new. While I do consider this transportation neat, it is also very disorienting to receive that instant shock and bombardment of new information because of the new environment.

In this case, I seem to be in a dark cave system with just a few glowbug lanterns hung up on the walls.

“Okay,” I say numbly. When I say it, I am once again using my own voice since I morph my voice back to normal. “Where am I nah . . .” I trail off when I finally notice the most important detail in the room beside Starlight and I, and that is the fact I am seeing an extra copy of Starlight here. My eyes immediately widen at the sight. I am stunned silent.

The Starlight that teleported me here trots next to the other one which, notably, has to trot around the Friendship Cutie Map. Once the two stand next to each other, they both look at me, wink at me simultaneously, then one of them vibrates for a second before becoming energy and suddenly zips into the version of Starlight that was already here.

“Let's just say that the enemy is not the only one in the world that can make clones,” Starlight explains to me with a cunning grin.

I blink in surprise as I ask, “You used your magic to make a temporary copy of yourself?”

“Yep!” Starlight tells me proudly. “It's based on a very old spell I've discovered . . . Similo Duplexus.

“It was one of my clones that was interviewing you in that room because I wanted to test if Sunburst really was Sunburst. I also placed a magical tracker on that magic clone of mine so I could find it with this map here in case she, that is say the other version of me, goes missing.” She grins proudly. “He took the bait and delivered my clone to his secret base and now I know where it is located for sure. I did all of this without serious risk to my original self.”

Next, I regard the table itself as I similarly ask, “And you . . . you still have it? The Friendship Map, that is?”

“Yep,” Starlight confirms as she looks over the table proudly. “Just after we used this to find Button Mash, I quickly realized how much this thing is a threat to the changeling who relocated Button. I knew, by then, that it wouldn't take this changeling long to target this table somehow for either destruction or relocation. So, before that happened, I teleported it here.”

Starlight uses a hoof to gesture about her surroundings before she goes on to say, “And where we are now in is a cave system near the town I used to rule with an iron hoof.” She looks around wistfully. “It's quite a maze down here which is why I knew no pony else would chase me in here, but it also meant it took me quite a while to find my way through myself.

“During that time, I mapped out the place and even set up a little base camp here.” Starlight now blushes. “From here, I plotted against Twilight and her friends in retribution for what they took from me in Our Town, but you don't need to know all about that,” she says with a dismissive and embarrassed wave of a hoof to me. “All that you need to know is where we are, why I am convinced this location is secure, the fact that the real Cutie Map is stored here for now, and that I've placed a few non-lethal traps nearby as an extra security precaution.”

“The real Cutie Map?” I echo questioningly.

Starlight nods as she says, “Yes. To make extra certain this thing remains intact and not stolen, I also replaced this map with a decoy at the castle.” She shakes her head a bit as she says, “I'm so glad I did it, too, because the thing went missing the very next day!”

“Whoa!” I widen my eyes. “That was close.”

Starlight nods again as she says, “Yes.” She rolls her eyes. “Tell me about it.”

I squint at Starlight and tilt my head curiously to the side as I ask her, “And how did you know that the one you were interviewing wasn't the changeling? Speaking for myself, I have to say that is the finest acting I have ever done.”

“Actually, yeah! You were really good, Sweetie Belle. I'm guessing it's because you've been developing subconscious habits from him. I heard of your dodge ball incident and I know that Button has been going through some similar behavioral changes as well. It's not difficult to figure out why.

“You made only a few mistakes so it was indeed challenging to decipher you apart from the host changeling.”

“I call him Agent Raven now, by the way,” I put in offhoofedly.

Starlight widens her eyes at me slightly as she appears to realize something, so she asks me, “Have you been in communication with him lately?”

“Not for a while,” I answer truthfully. “He hasn't spoken to me in over three weeks. Not since the night when I finally went back home and made up with my parents.”

“I see,” Starlight tells me with a very thoughtful look.

“He's not bad anymore,” I add. “Well,” I squint again, “he sort of is but he doesn't want to be ruled by his original self anymore. As a result, he's been more cooperative with me. Also, he has established that there used to be some kind of link between him and his original self that got cut off on the night we did our magical cutie mark experiment with this map.”

We are silent for a thoughtful moment as we just stare at each other, then I express because I feel like I must, “I'm going to die of curiosity if you don't tell me what I did wrong by playacting as him.”

“Huh?” Starlight's ears perk up as if waking up from a thoughtful daydream. “Oh. Well, as I said, there weren't too many clues. Based on the impression I got from him the first time we met, I have a feeling his real self would have remained quiet longer. I think he'd let me sweat it out for a while. He seems to like to play mind games like that.

“The other clue I deciphered is you were too impatient to rush to the point. Every word you said drove towards a specific point. Also, you didn't fish for enough information from me as I think he would have.”

“Oh,” I say in disappointment as I lower my ears. That truly was the finest performance I have ever made so far. At least, I think so. It's disappointing to hear of all of my flaws despite that. “Do you at least think that he was fooled?”

Starlight half shrugs as she admits, “I'm afraid there's no way of knowing without actually being inside his head.

“But, regardless, thanks to our efforts, I got what I wanted out of him.” She looks down at the map. “The location of his secret base.”

I lift my ears again as I ask anxiously, “So what's our next move, then?”

“I've sent the information I've gained about the location of this changeling's lair to King Thorax,” Starlight informs me.

I really perk up as I say, “Oh goodie! Then we can storm his lair and-”

“No, no, no,” Starlight interrupts as she shakes her head. “That wouldn't be smart. After what I've seen from even one of his clones, I don't think we'd stand a realistic chance of success if we stormed his base. Even if we outnumber him, I think he could still cream us with ease.

“And besides, he has access to a lot of hostages. Not only within his lair but outside of it as well. Every single one of his clones can threaten anyone that happens to be around him, so I can't risk that option. At least, not yet.”

I wince as I ask with confusion, “Then why give this information to King Thorax?”

Starlight taps the Cutie Map as she says, “He's an insurance policy. Think about it. This guy wants his lair to remain a secret and I just gave that information to a changeling monarch who has the capacity to spread this information to anyone he wants. Many of Thorax's changeling pack is hiding everywhere, ready to spread the word in case I don't return from this hostile changeling's lair.”

“That's so cool!” I marvel with wide eyes. “You're so smart, Starlight.” I smile at her brightly as I wag my tail and proudly proclaim, “When I grow up, I want to be just like you someday!”

In response, Starlight blushes at me shyly but I can also tell that she's flattered.

“So what do you want me to do while you confront him?” I ask anxiously.

“You? I want you to stay here where it's safe,” Starlight replies. “But, before I take off, I want to talk to the real Agent Raven. Or, if he still refuses to talk to me, then I want your input about him as much as possible.”

“NO!” I complain loudly. “No,” I repeat more calmly. “I'm coming with you.”

Starlight narrows her eyes at me as she tells me, “Sweetie Belle, this is no time for brave heroics. At least, not from you. You really have to listen to me this time. I promised your parents that I would keep you safe and I fully meant it. There's no way you can convince me to bring a foal into a lair full of highly trained and deadly changeling clone assassins.”

“But we're not going in there to fight, right?” I check. I apply my hoof to my chest as I proclaim, “Well I don't want to fight him either! Like you, I want a peaceful solution to this problem but he is really tricky.” I shake my head. “He's not like the other changelings you're used to dealing with. Not by a long shot. This guy is as cold as ice. He's a strategic genius who was trained to the very limits of his potential among the Ghosts, and he is driven to save his race from extinction.”

Starlight winces at me as she asks, “Extinction? Why would he be convinced that his race is in that much danger?”

I hesitate to answer that question as I look down at the table. When I do, I widen my eyes a bit as I see not my own reflection on the table but that of Raven instead. That reflection gives me a confident nod with a sharp look in his eyes as if to say, “Tell her. Ocellus will understand.”

“Well?” Starlight prompts me. “This is no time to be holding back secrets, Sweetie Belle. This is your last chance to inform me before I confront him. It's important that I be as prepared for that as possible.”

I sigh as I gather my courage. I hope Ocellus will indeed forgive me.

“Ocellus told me a few weeks ago that the race is in danger because none of the changelings can breed,” I tell Starlight as I slowly gaze up into her eyes. “She also made me swear to keep this a secret but, under these circumstances, I think she would understand.

“You can ask Thorax to confirm my source. Ocellus told me that all of the changelings are technically sexless. All except for Queen Chrysalis. She's the only one who can give birth to more changelings. That's among the reasons the rest of the hive used to be so loyal to her. They all knew that they needed her to permit the race to continue.”

“Until I convinced them that there was a better feeding option,” Starlight realizes as her eyes alight with an epiphany. “Ever since then, they transformed and decided it was better to live in freedom rather than remain subjected to her tyranny . . . but now they are also stuck with no more options to replace their population.”

I nod as I add, “I think you can see why the race is reluctant to make that information public.”

“I certainly do,” Starlight agrees as she looks down with a bit of a guilt-stricken expression. “I just wanted them to have better lives. I didn't know it would come at that cost.”

“They still made their own choice, Starlight,” I remind her. “You told them of a better option and they took it. Whatever else comes of this, at least you know they were willing to accept this.” I shrug. “Well . . . all except Queen Chrysalis and maybe the other members of the Ghosts.”

Starlight winces as she realizes something before saying aloud, “But using the Mirror Pool isn't an adequate solution because all of his clones would be the same age.” She looks forward blankly at nothing as her thoughts continue to churn. “So he must be aiming at something else. Perhaps he's seeking a new way for his race to conceive, or he's aiming to free Queen Chrysalis. That might actually be the easiest option for him.”

I shake my head as I say, “Maybe to enslave her, but Raven tells me he has no interest in being subjected under Chrysalis's rule again. He doesn't even wish to submit under the rule of his original self.”

“Then his other clones will feel the same way!” Starlight realizes. “Now it's all beginning to make sense. His original self knew that. He knew that his own clones would be reluctant to obey him so he set up some kind of system in his lair to ensure their obedience.” Starlight taps her hoof. “To what end, though? Where is he going with all of this?”

At first I shrug silently, then I tell her, “I don't think Raven knows the answer to that question either because his memories are incomplete. There's also a chance that his original self doesn't know either, but he feels driven to do something.

“One thing I can tell about him is that he's unlikely to move forward with a bold plan unless he feels very well prepared. He's a perfectionist who likes to keep things neat and tidy. He's the kind of guy who does not like to leave any evidence of his passing unless he does not have the time to set up everything perfectly or revealing himself somehow secures him a decisive advantage. From the way Raven describes it, that's a standard policy of all the Ghosts. To be invisible. To remain a myth. To be a fearsome and respected mystery in the shadows.”

While I was talking, Starlight kept nodding to herself as each point I made allowed the situation we are in feel more and more clear to her.

“I think I'm beginning to understand him now,” Starlight says. “Yikes! That is a very dangerous enemy. It sounds to me like he's not driven by power or greed. He might pretend to for a moment when it suits him but he honestly doesn't really like to rule because he'd rather avoid attention. After all, it is the standard procedure of the Ghosts to avoid attention so, by now, it has become a really ingrained habit.

“But, at the same time, he doesn't wish to be ruled either. Sounds to me like he's someone who'd rather be left alone if it weren't for his mission,” Starlight figures.

Starlight looks off to her side very thoughtfully. “And his mission is to save the changeling race from facing extinction. More than likely he also plans to save them from themselves, at least according to his opinion. This is a changeling who just doesn't know how to relax and have fun.” She shakes her head. “It's always serious business with this guy because that is the way he was raised. To be the best of the best in the changelings, he can never relax because those training standards are too high for that. No one can really be perfect but if this guy is making a serious attempt to be so, then . . .”

Starlight trails off into silence. I see her eyes moving back and forth rapidly as if she's reading invisible text at high speed. That, I realize, is a non-verbal sign of rapid thinking.

I smile as I again admire Starlight. At the same time, I feel relief that I have a competent ally backing my cause now. Earlier I was so worried that Starlight could have been a compromised agent. Right now I am just so glad that she's not.

“I'm still going with you,” I insist after a long moment of silence. “Take me with you.”

In response, Starlight simply looks at me. I can tell that I have not convinced her yet, and yet she didn't outright object either. That likely means it occurred to her why bringing me might be an important advantage after all.

I decide to spell it out for her by saying, “You need me because I understand him better than most. For better and worse, I'm not the same little filly I was before our magical experiment. This experience has brought to light important changes within me which also helps me to understand this particular adversary. If you want to convince him to turn to our cause somehow, then I'm your best hope of keeping things honest between you. As good as he is at deception, he is equally adept at reading others. I've inherited some of those skills and I think he'd quickly realize that. That, in turn, equalizes the playing field.

“You need me, Starlight Glimmer. All of Equestria is at stake here and I care about this country too! I care about my friends and family within it and I have the right to help defend them. Please let me come too!”

I'm right and we both know it. Despite that, I know I am making a hard sell. I can see the internal debate and struggle in her eyes as she wrestles between reason and logic versus her own protective instincts. In her eyes, it's very hard for her to see past the fact that I am a young foal no matter how strategically advantageous bringing me might be or what else might be at stake.

“I accept the risks, Starlight,” I swear to her with conviction. “And I'm old enough to understand the gravity of my choice here. I may be a foal but Raven is not young and I inherited some of his maturity through osmosis. This has enhanced my wisdom and understanding so know that you are not to blame for the consequences of my decision. I gladly wear that burden on my own.

“And my knowledge about him will come in hoofy. You cannot deny that.”

Starlight looks down at the table with worry. Now I see she seems to be leaning heavily on accepting my proposal, but there is still a voice crying out inside her that this is wrong.

“Did you love your parents?” I ask her.

Starlight winces as she looks back at me and returns my question with another question. “What kind of a question is that? Of course I love my parents. We didn't always get along, but I still love them.”

Having gotten the confirmation that I strongly suspected I would, I continue my point by asking, “Back when you were a foal, if you learned something crucial and you also knew that acting upon that information would save your parents’ lives, how would you feel if you were told, 'No' because somepony else looked at your age and thought it was too dangerous? Yet still you know that you have vital information that can save them and they'll definitely die if you don't act upon it.”

Starlight looks back at the table with a look of guilt but also understanding in her eyes. Eventually she says, “I see your point. If I deny you, you're going to act on your own anyway.”

“Definitely!” I strongly confirm. “So you can either keep an eye on me by bringing me along, or I'll go off on my own anyway and get exposed to even greater risk.”

My expression softens as I go on to say, “I wouldn't have dared to challenge you like this a moon ago because, back then, I really was too much of a kid to question an adult's authority.” My eyes grow firm again. “But I have matured since then in both natural and unnatural ways. Either way, what it amounts to is I have enough strength developed in me to help with this most crucial mission. And, while the likes of Raven, his clones, and his original may have a cold heart, I do not, and I will follow my heart. It is the pony way.”

Starlight smirks up at me proudly before finally nodding with acceptance.

Author's Note

Chapter 38: Who I Am

Okay, that's the third teleport I've gone through in less than an hour. By Celestia, this is getting really disorienting!

But that annoyance soon fades as I take in my new surroundings. At that moment, annoyance gets replaced with a deeper chill in my soul when I notice I am surrounded by the Everfree Forest again. That in itself does not surprise me, but something about this area feels especially off. Maybe it is the clustered way the trees are grouped together which lets in even less light than usual. Maybe it is the primal magic I sense in the environment. Maybe it is the smell that I can't really identify even though it does conjure up feelings of emptiness, pain, and madness, or maybe it is the fact that this area of the forest is dead silent. Other than the wind, I hear no living creatures about. No insects. No animals. Nothing living seems to be here except Starlight, me, and the trees but they are not being too chatty.

“Stay close to me,” Starlight demands of me. “Just let me do the talking and do exactly as I say at all times.”

“I thought the point of me coming is to give you tips if you're making progress with him or not,” I remind her. “Otherwise, why am I here?”

“You can give me those tips if and when I ask for them,” Starlight clarifies as she ignites her horn with magic and carefully scans about the area with her eyes. Maybe she also scans the area with her magic.

“You are also here to be a little insurance policy,” she goes on to say, “although I'm not exactly sure how that's going to be.” She looks at me. “Still, I can't deny that you have a connection with him right now, except the important thing to remember is the fact that you're on my side.” She looks about again. “I can't deny the chance that you might spot or realize something that I might miss. Even the most minute of details could make a significant difference in this encounter.”

Starlight suddenly whips her head to her left and gazes in that direction while on high alert. It's as if she notices something in that direction that might be alarming.

“What is it?” I ask nervously.

Starlight narrows her eyes in that direction as she says, “I have detected trace signatures of the enchanted dust I had hidden on my temporal clone. She's vanished now but what she left behind is still there for me to detect.”

Starlight turns then trots in the direction she is looking.

We search around for about twenty minutes before we spot something really creepy. At the base of the hill we search, one side if it morphs out of our way. It looked like a normal rock for a moment but then it melts away as if it was actually made of flesh. With it out of the way, it reveals a new opening in the ground.

“It seems he's inviting us in,” Starlight notes aloud. “This definitely means he's aware of our presence.”

“Does this change our plans?” I ask the lilac mare nervously.

Starlight shakes her head before she replies, “This was never meant to be a stealth operation. I want him to notice us coming because I want to talk to him.”

Starlight seems thoughtful then looks at me with worry as she announces, “This is your last chance to back out. Are you sure you want to proceed?”

I gulp nervously but I also harden the resolve in my eyes. To answer her question, I tell her, “This guy seems to respect fellow changelings above all other races. He once confronted me just to scare me and warn me, but he otherwise didn't harm me.” I look at her. “If I'm present, he may be more inclined to talk rather than attack. I think my mere presence may offer you some protection.”

Starlight looks back into the small cave as she says, “Let's hope you're right. I was counting on that fact too.” She takes a deep breath, releases it slowly, then says with determination, “Alright. Let's move.”

For a brief moment, the fear in me causes me to question why the two of us are proceeding in alone without the backup of any of our other friends, but then I recall the fact that it's too difficult to trust any of them right now. We were lucky just to find and verify each other, but it would take too long to properly test everypony else. We could use the Friendship Map to properly test the identity of everypony we care about, but we'd have to do it one by one and, during that time, this guy might prepare too many counter moves such as finding and relocating Starlight's enchanted dust. Other important countermeasures might get in place too if we wait too long, so we have to go now while some element of surprise is still somewhat in place.

He may be a great strategist, but there's only so much he can do against completely unexpected surprises.

The tunnel we crawl in soon widens out into an underground labyrinth. Only here we do finally find other signs of life. In this case, it is a bunch of creepy insects of various kinds, but I eventually notice that there's pattern among them. They are mostly carrion-type insects. Whatever they are feeding off of, it is unlikely to be alive anymore.

I notice us shudder in strong discomfort because of the close proximity of the tiny natives. Our fur practically stands on end and we hiss through tightly clenched teeth. We also glance at each other to confirm our partner feels the same way.

“Starlight . . .” I whine very nervously.

“I know,” Starlight acknowledges with a similar tense voice. “I wish Fluttershy was with us right now. She can tell either us or them something to relieve the situation. Also, if she were here, she can talk to them and possibly get us directions.

“But I am here and I am not useless. I still detect which direction the traces I left are coming from, plus I can do this.”

I see energy wrap around Starlight's horn for a second before it explodes away from her. When that happens, a two-foot hemispherical barrier now surrounds her. I am standing close enough to her to be within the barrier. I also notice the fact that I don't get pushed out, but it does happen to any tiny insects nearby.

“This should protect us,” Starlight says semi-confidently, “unless some of them aren't what they appear. In any case, stay close to me and stay within the barrier.”

“You don't have to tell me twice!” I squeak.

We continue our way through the creepy tunnels and it's twisting labyrinth. All along, Starlight has the ability to detect where we need to go presumably, but that knowledge does not give us an exact course. Sometimes we have to double back and find a new route towards Starlight's magical beacon.

As we continue, the environment gets only creepier, like something out of a nightmare. In addition to crawling insects, which only get more numerous as we continue, we eventually also spot black, pulsing, fleshy-looking vines on the walls, floor, and ceiling.

At first I grow greatly alarmed at the sight of them because I suspect they are the same black vines that once attacked Ponyville many years ago. If I'm right, then we have to stop using our magic now because those vines can curse our magic to make it go haywire.

But, upon closer inspection, we eventually realize this is something different. These vines are a lot thinner and slimy. They also see them pulse a bit, especially the fleshy-looking veins within them.

“What are these disgusting things?” I ask with a wince of revulsion.

Starlight shakes her head as she says, “I don't know, but they are giving me the willies. For some reason I also suspect it is a sign we are getting close to our destination.”

As we continue our journey, these black fleshy vines only grew more numerous. As they do so, we start to notice a sludgy sound surround us more and more. It makes our hides crawl to hear.

But other than that sound, the insects, and each other, we hear eerily hear nothing else for quite some time.

Until, all of the sudden, we hear a casual whistling tune echo within the tunnels. Since I recognize it from my nightmares and that one time I openly encountered one of this guy's clones, I shudder deeply.

“Do you hear that?” Starlight asks as she stops in alarm.

I nod as I say, “It's him! It's him, it's him, it's him!” I tell Starlight in fright. “I recognize that whistle and that tune from my nightmares. That's definitely him!”

“Stay calm,” Starlight commands me. “Don't reveal that he's getting to you.”

“Actually, that is what he wants,” I argue. “If we show fear, he won't attack. Instead, he'll be satisfied by just whistling.”

Before we teleported here, I already told Starlight that this guy can feed off of fear, unlike a normal changeling, although he does draw stronger nutrition from feeding off of love. Because I informed her of that, it is equally clear to her why he’s trying to evoke that reaction in both of us.

“I know it's difficult, but don't give him what he wants too easily,” Starlight orders me. “Make him work for it. As long as he doesn't completely succeed but it looks like he has a chance to succeed, he'll continue that tactic without ramping it up.”

In response, I nod in agreement.

Despite how terrifying our present situation is, I can't believe how much courage I've developed over these past few weeks. This is not even close to how frightening our situation had to be to scare the living daylights out of me a few weeks ago.

The thing is, I'm not too sure if this is an improvement. Having more courage can make life easier in a general sense, but our species has fear for a very good reason. This guy isn't just well trained to evoke fear. He can inflict pain and death too with an equal or even greater amount of ease. There's no other way to look at it. We really are in extreme danger right now!

“WE CAN HEAR YOU!” Starlight cries aloud. “AND WE ARE NOT AFRAID!”

“Speak for yourself!” I am tempted to cry out but I keep my mouth shut. Starlight knows her claim probably sounds and is absurd, but maybe she has a strategy behind her claim and I don't want to ruin it by disputing her.

“I AM STARLIGHT GLIMMER!” my older partner calls aloud. “AND I'VE COME TO BARGAIN. PLEASE DON'T BE AFRAID TO REVEAL YOURSELF. WE JUST WANT TO TALK.”

The only response we get is we hear even more of the whistle's tune pick up in perfect sync with the first. The echoes they both cause also distort their true position.

“PLEASE! WE JUST WANT TO TALK FACE TO FACE!” Starlight loudly pleads.

In response, far more whistling tunes pick up. They join together as if to deliberately drown out Starlight's outcry. I am well aware, as I am sure Starlight is as well, that this is also meant to be a reminder that we are vastly outnumbered down here.

Fear threatens to break me when I receive flashbacks to Raven's imaginary sparring match against dream foes in The Room. I know that a dream can be distorted but there seemed to be very realistic conditions within that dream. Time moved at its normal apparent rate and gravity felt just as heavy and real. If what he did was even half true the way I saw it in that dream, we may be far outmatched by even one of those deadly clones and there's a whole army of them up ahead!

I know that we would have been in a better negotiating standpoint if we could enter this place from a position of strength. If we lack that, we don't have this guy's respect.

Still, I have to remind myself that Starlight is telling the truth. We didn't come here to fight so it doesn't matter how strong, magical, numerous, or skilled he is. The real victory condition here is to convince him why it isn't even necessary for us to fight. If we can leave this cave while making him our friend, then all the power he has can only be to our mutual advantage.

So, in other words, the real battle will be fought with words.

Beside me, I see Starlight grimace because she realizes she's being ignored right now but it might be a negotiation tactic.

Regardless, I continue to see the fire of determination in her eyes so I know she's far from giving up yet.

“COME ON, SWEETIE BELLE,” Starlight has to call loudly to be heard over the ear-piercing sound of what sounds like thousands whistling in complete unison and further enhanced by the acoustics of the cave. “LET'S CONTINUE. IF HE WON'T LISTEN TO US YET, WE'LL HAVE TO MAKE HIM LISTEN.”

“OKAY!” I shout back in order to be heard.

We bravely trot on.

The next sign of progress we get is when we enter a cave full of noxious fumes. We can still breathe but our lungs burn a little. I get the feeling that if I morph my lungs a certain way, I'd be immune to the poison cloud’s effects, but I don't have the knowledge it takes to know exactly what form that should be. Even if I figure it out, Starlight has no such advantage.

Instead of that, she tightens her force field in order to keep the fumes out, but that only means her shield is now air-tight. We're working with a two-foot radius bubble of air right now. That's not going to sustain us for long.

What makes the situation feel worse is that the noxious gas is visible. Specifically, it takes the form of a black cloud, sort of like smoke except I know it's not smoke. The smell doesn't match it. This black gas is being spewed from several cracks in the ground with an apparently random pattern.

In addition to the fume’s toxic qualities, it limits our visibility even further. We previously used Starlight's horn to light our way and I eventually added my own, but now the only thing our light is doing is illuminating the black cloud around us.

Aside from all that, what's eerier than being surrounded by ear-piercing whistling is the sudden silence after it. It comes with absolutely no warning. It just instantly stops while in the middle of the tune.

This causes us to freeze as we look around, wondering why the sudden change. Our eyes can barely penetrate the black cloud around us. We don't see much, and yet we can feel eyes staring from all around.

Once again, it makes our hides crawl, or at least it does for me.

“I would speak with you,” Starlight calls out into the darkness that surrounds us. “I've come to bargain.”

I am shaking and I realize I'm doing it too much to hide it.

Off the corner of my eye, I notice Starlight's legs are shaking a bit too. When I see that, this causes me to remember that, although Starlight seems to be a very powerful mare compared to me, she is still very much mortal and fallible. She has very real thoughts and feelings just like anypony else and that means she's not immune to fear. Instead, she chooses to face it with practiced courage.

Seeing that calms me down a bit. For some reason, I feel a little less afraid knowing that I'm not the only one to have this reaction. We may be in grave danger, but her reaction also validates my feelings.

I jolt, startled, when I see glowing red eyes ignite about fifteen feet ahead of us. Moments later, more pairs of eyes like that ignite all around us. They surround us and stare at us with a hard, analyzing glare, but they make no other movement or sound.

“Good to know I have your attention now,” Starlight calls out to them as she sweeps her gaze across them. “As I said, I am Starlight Glimmer, and I have come to bargain. If you choose to continue to hold your silence then at least listen. Gathering information is your forte, after all, and I have come to offer it willingly. No doubt that is why you permitted us to enter your lair.”

Starlight pauses a moment as if giving them an opportunity to respond, but they don't take it.

“Alright,” Starlight says with a nod of acceptance. “Then just listen. While you do so, know that your scare tactics and mind tricks shall not avail you. I'm a pretty bright pony myself and I have had some experience with both leadership and psychology as I'm sure you're well aware.”

Starlight pauses again but not as long this time. During that time, those red eyes just keep staring at us, unmoving and unblinking.

“First of all, thanks for letting us come here,” Starlight says with a brief bow. “I know it's probably not entirely welcome, but it's still appreciated.

“Secondly, and likely far more importantly, I know what you are up to. I know why you are doing all of this,” Starlight says with a grand wave of a hoof. “I was told about the danger to your species and how you can't breed other than Queen Chrysalis. I know you want to find a way to solve this problem, but what you probably don't know is that we can help!” she proclaims as she applies a lilac hoof to her chest. “You don't have to keep working on this alone. You don't have to keep struggling in the shadows. If we join together, we can help each other,” she offers.

There's no apparent reaction from those around us. They just continue to eerily stare at us. The longer they do it, the more uncomfortable it gets and it already started off pretty strong.

“Something is wrong,” I hear Raven whisper in my ear. “Don't react! Just keep staring the way you were before.”

It's as if he can read my mind. I really was about to widen my eyes in surprise.

“I can read your mind, doofus,” Raven sneers. “I'm in your mind. Remember? If you want to respond, then just think.”

“All of this subterfuge isn't necessary,” Starlight pleads. “The only thing we ponies want is mutual harmony. We don't wish to be hurt but we don't wish that fate on others either. You've must have studied our behavior and our history before. It speaks for itself.”

“I know fear is a common tactic for my original self, but something seems off,” Raven reports to me.

But silence does seem to be in character for him, I think. One can afflict a lot of fear in silence. You said that yourself. How is whatever he's doing any different?

“I can't quite put my hoof on it, but he isn't behaving in a way that matches my memories. Now I admit my memories aren't perfect, but he's already done something that is out of character.

“You should also consider your environment. There are bugs everywhere. There are noxious fumes, and there are black tentacle-like things around. None of this is an accident. They are here for a reason and I don't think it's to deceive the two of you. Perhaps it could be, but these things seem well established which means they were here long before you two arrived. If that's the case, what purpose does it serve?

“Whatever that is, it likely is information he didn't want to tip-off.”

The vines? The smoke? The bugs? We also know that some of the Mirror Pool is somewhere close by. The slime cocooned victims are probably also nearby too.

“The slime is also organic matter,” Raven informs me. “There are certain kinds of bugs that can feed off of it but not all of them, and it certainly doesn't explain all the varieties of insects we have seen in this cave.”

Starlight continues to try to negotiate with her ever silent hosts, but I continue to listen to Raven since he might be informing me of very important information.

“Back at the hive, those kinds of insects are sometimes regarded as pests,” Raven informs me. “It usually depends upon the priority of the captured target. It's just too difficult to get rid of them completely so we usually tolerate them, but the number of bugs I've seen in this cave is too numerous. It's as if no effort was taken to eliminate or control them. Does that mean our enemy can't? If so, then that might be useful intel.

“Some bugs eat other bugs, but the cycle has to start somewhere. To explain this many in the cave, they have to be feeding off some organic source and, whatever it is, it's in good supply.”

The changeling slime? You did tell me that some bugs fed off them before and some effort was used to manage their population. If no effort was spent here then perhaps this is the natural consequence.

“But that doesn't explain the vines or the fumes,” Raven points out. “Both of them are organic, too. That isn't smoke you're seeing out there. It's something else, and the closest thing I can think of is it's like the natural carbon dioxide living creatures expel when they breathe, except this isn't carbon dioxide. Whatever it is, it is a byproduct of a similar source. Something organic is expelling that after each breath.”

“Everything you've done in here is unnecessary,” Starlight assures. “The Hive will welcome you back. Thorax's pack will welcome you back. I know you don't consider it the same as when you left, but don't you see? That's exactly why they need you! Your distrust and training can help them stay battle-ready, but at the same time, there is strength in numbers and that includes the alliances they have made since.”

What does this all mean? How are the vines, smoke, and bugs connected here? Some of these things seem downright unique to this area. For instance, I have never seen these vines elsewhere, although they closely resemble the ones that attacked Ponyville.

Maybe they are the vines that attacked Ponyville but somehow changed? Somehow adapted to suit this changelings purpose?

“It doesn't have to be the actual vines. A changeling can assume any form,” Raven informs. “We can even assume imaginary forms, but if we're after a specific ability, it is more likely we adapt a form from something we encountered before that has that ability.

“In the Everfree Forest, there is a good chance for my original self to have encountered those black vines before. It is possible he tamed them, but if he wants them for a specific purpose, it is far more likely he'd change his form to match them then adapt that form to something specific.”

Once again I struggle not to widen my eyes in realization as it dawns on me that we could be standing on and surrounded by a shapeshifted changeling all along. The other thing that is disturbing is to consider the sheer amount that's required to create this much organic matter all around us.

I don't know if the magic of the Mirror Pool is limited but magic usually is. Lots of teachers told me that, including Starlight.

“That is true,” Raven agrees. “As miraculous as it is, magic, too, is a finite resource, at least the kinds that we mortals can access and create. The strongest kind of magic that exists in the world is the kind produced in nature and that is because it comes from nature. While that is vast, it is still limited.

“Most likely some of the water from the Mirror Pool is consumed to create each clone. The water that is within each clone is the water from the Pool which is formed into a specific shape.

“If you think about it, the power of the Mirror Pool is not unlike a changeling. For good reason, we used to be called Mirror Monsters.”

“Since the survival of your race is the most important thing to you, why not use the tactic that has the greatest odds of success?” Starlight proposes. “Friends are far more useful than slaves because friends are willingly loyal. Such a relationship actively seeks ways to improve the quality of life together.”

Starlight and I stiffen when we finally start to notice more of a reaction out there. Specifically, we hear some shuffling about. At first we don't know what it is until we see more movement ahead of us. The red eyes ahead of us bobs and weaves a bit as if making way for something to pass between them. After that, one of the red eyes takes a few steps closer. It pauses for a brief moment before a light ignites ahead of us. Unlike Starlight's and my horns, however, we see a pair of gossamer, bug-like wings ignite ahead of us. The illumination is strong enough to reveal two new bodies.

Of the two, one is smaller and it is immediately recognizable as myself. That version of me seems very groggy and uncomfortable.

But due to my enhanced perception and recognition of subtle body language, I quickly realize that the white filly ahead of us is not really me but rather Button Mash!

What is perhaps more alarming is the changeling that's holding Button. This changeling has taken a form that resembles Fluttershy except the wings are more like a changeling, the wings are glowing, and the eyes are too large and bloodshot. The eyes also look more sunken into the skull and are surrounded by a black ring. The eyes even cry tears of blood. Her mouth is open which reveals tall rows of jagged teeth. Blood also leaks through the teeth and around her mouth. She looks at us with an absolutely crazed expression. One of her hooves, the left in this case, has also taken the form of a bladed scythe that she's holding close to the neck of Button. Close enough, in fact, to draw a little bit of blood.

“That's Button Mash,” I whisper a warning to Starlight who glances at me for a second, nods at me in acknowledgment, then looks back at the changeling that is holding Button captive.

“What is this meant to prove?” Starlight asks as she gestures to Button for a brief moment. “You already had us surrounded. You don't need any more of an advantage to make your point. I was already cooperative.”

The fake, monstrous-looking Fluttershy snaps her neck sideways with a very creepy look that sort of resembles a look of curiosity except she did it so quickly and so severely that we could hear her neck snap, and yet she continues to stand.

“You don't need a hostage!” Starlight insists. “I already know you have plenty in this cave already in the slime cocoons. If that wasn't enough, there is everypony that is around the clones you control. Believe me, I have no interest in antagonizing you so there is no need for this. There is no need for violence.”

In response, the monstrous Fluttershy snaps her head back up straight, drops her jaw too low to be natural, then gives a multi-tonal scream.

At the same time, the same kind of scream issues from all of those around us, including the ones we can't see.

Both Starlight and I intensely wince at this. To help counter this attack, I morph the passageway to my eardrums to deliberately narrow it and thereby reduce the painful sonic attack that surrounds me.

All of this screaming also stirs Button awake. He shakes my head to clear it then looks around himself to determine where he is. He then looks up behind him to see who is holding him.

When Button does that, the monstrous Fluttershy snaps her gaze back at him for a second before quickly lowering her head at the speed of a cobra snake in order to bite his head off.

But, fortunately for us, Button reflexively responds by using my magic to teleport away and join us inside Starlight's protective bubble.

I am so stunned that I can barely think. That changeling clone just tried to kill my coltfriend and in my body, no less. The changeling didn't ask for anything, make any threats or demands. It just attacked. Why? Where is the tactical advantage in that?

Also, Wow, Button Mash! Even I can barely cast that spell! In my whole life, I only pulled that off exactly once, and that was during the Appleloosa County Fair when a pet of two foals we met, Bloofy, started spinning about as a giant, artificial tornado. Specifically, I had to save Biscuit from being torn about by the tornado.

But, when I did it, I burned out my horn for quite a while and I got a splitting headache for a few minutes.

Conversely, Button barely knows how to use my magic at all, and he pulls off that spell?

The changeling ahead of us bit into empty air where Button was so hard that her sharp teeth pierces her own gums and lips, thus causing her to bleed even more. She slowly looks back up at us with the same crazed look that drips blood from her eyes and especially the mouth.

“Why did you attack Button?!” Starlight cries out at the changeling who attacked him. “We come in peace! There is no need for this!”

“FEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAARRRRRRR!” many or all of the changelings around us cry out in unison. “I CAN TASTE YOUR FEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAARRRRRRR . . . AND IT . . . IS DELICIOUS!”

“Now I'm certain something is wrong!” Raven promises me. “They are not behaving like my original self.”

I wonder if Raven is sure because he's used fear tactics like this before.

“Yes, but it was always in pursuit of an agenda,” Raven elaborates. “This is different. They are truly feral.”

Now I do widen my eyes as I ask aloud, “Why? Why would they be feral?”

“Huh?” Starlight asks me. “What did you just say?”

“I have seen this phenomenon before back at the hive,” Raven tells me. “This is typically caused when a changeling is starving to death due to a lack of feeding except they usually gain a craving to feed on love and they typically act much weaker than this. My guess is the clones themselves are not starving but rather the one controlling them is.

“Oh my! IT'S THE VINES! He's shapeshifted himself into absolutely all of the vines you see around you! That is how he's controlling them, and that takes a lot of energy out of him.”

“What?!” I exclaim in shock.

“Sweetie Belle, Starlight, what's going on here?” Button asks in fright as he crawls up to stand on my hooves.

We freeze for a second when we hear something else teleport within Starlight's protective field. After that, we very slowly look over our shoulders to see what kind of looks like Button Mash's mother, Cream Heart, except she looks monstrous in the exact same way Fluttershy does, minus the wings. As we look back at her, she makes this deep, throaty gurgling sound for four seconds before violently exploding into action.

Three giant tentacles, which end in pincer claws, suddenly shoot out of her body and pin all three of us to the wall in separate directions. Doing this also disrupts Starlight's concentration so her protective barrier shatters.

“STARLIGHT! BUTTON!” I cry out in fear then instinctually draw upon my hidden reserves of strength. As a result, I morph myself into a thinner, snake-like form then slither out of the pincer claw that had attempted to nail me to the wall. I proceed to slither around and around the tentacle before coiling myself and hopping off of it. I blindly try to get to either one of my friends but something chops me down in mid-flight.

While it is very difficult to do when I am this tense and especially while I am in this much pain, time seems to slow again for some reason as I achieve a state of hyperfocus. With it, I can perceive some of enemy targets around me through the black smoke. Of those, I calculate the distance between me and them, the distance between each other, the angle at which they are standing, the speed they are moving, and the probability of what form they will take soon.

With this state of hyperfocus, I could probably crush anypony in Ponyville with ease if I wanted to and quite likely a much larger territory. In addition, I have the instincts of super training to subconsciously fall back on.

But that is where my advantages realistically end. I am up against an opponent who hones himself to be the most precise, destructive, and strategic combat engine of perfection. He literally spends every waking and even sleeping moment training for this and he has given up absolutely everything for it.

I still try. I swing my hooves with calculated precision that would have nailed anypony else I know, but these clones either block me, morph around my strike in the middle of my swing, or deliberately allow me to strike them in order to set up a devastating counterattack.

For instance, at one point, my attack finally connects with one of the clones except my hoof ends up stuck in the clone's body as if it is made of tar. Once that clone has a lock on me, he kicks out with a hind leg except the leg morphs and separates into two legs. Those two legs stretch around both sides of me then proceed to kick me back and forth between them.

During the attack, I briefly lose my hyperfocus which tells me there is one weakness to it, but the only way I can exploit it against them is to inflict them with constant pain. Something also tells me that this changeling has additionally been highly trained to resist pain or even morph himself somehow to completely cut off the physical sensation of pain.

My senses get even more out of whack when I feel a strong and persistent electric jolt pass through my body. Despite my haze of pain, I quickly realize that the electric shock is coming from the body of the changeling my hoof is stuck inside of. He apparently morphed his innards to act something like an electric eel. I have no idea how he's doing that without damaging himself.

Finally my attacker closes his legs on me like a piece of paper trapped between two closing edges of scissors except the height is a little off. One leg is higher than the other. When it closes in on me, I end up spinning dizzily in the air.

After that, I get kicked away which launches me at another changeling clone who also kicks me to yet another changeling clone.

I think I am kicked back and forth about four times before the clones finally change their tactics.

During one of the kicks, I finally nick one of them with a tiny bit of damage by morphing my body to project a few spikes. As I am launched away, I notice how the wound I inflict is almost instantly morphed away.

Seeing this heavily demoralizes me because it causes me to realize several things. They can launch themselves into a state of hyperfocus too, they can heal themselves even better than I can, and they are clearly toying with me. If they really wanted to kill me, they'd aim for my head.

Yeah. They aren't putting any serious effort into attacking me. They are only pushing themselves just enough to trounce me completely.

This is made all the more clear to me during the third time I finally connect. I throw a hoof strike which I morph into a shape that's more like a ball of iron. One of the clones blocks with a hoof that morphs into something resembling a shield except its texture is squishy like a bouncy ball. My attack sinks into the shield for a split second before the changeling pushes back and suddenly solidifies the shield. The result is he actually reflects the kinetic force of my own attack back at me before it has a chance to damage him.

Still another one of the swings of my kicks passes right through one of the clones since that clone uses her magic to temporarily phase her body for just a brief second. It lasts long enough for my attack to pass right through her and land in another changeling body that morphed his leg into a bed of spikes. After my leg gets impaled into those spikes, one of the other changeling clones nearby teleports me one/third of the way inside a solid wall. When that one/third of me solidifies after being teleported, it fuses into the wall and effectively eliminates that portion of my body in an instant. The only way I can recover from that is to morph the rest of me out of the wall then into a fully healed state again.

But, after that, I don't even attempt to attack because I already know it's futile. I'm clearly overmatched by an incalculable margin.

Besides, there is another problem. While these clones remain perfectly focused in this combat as they have been trained to do all of their lives, I am subconsciously holding back because I don't really want to hurt anypony.

I think these clones know it, too, which is why they aren't taking this battle too seriously.

It all comes down to the fundamentals of who we are. Deep down, I am not even close to a killer. I am not even a fighter entirely except for maybe a verbal abuser.

Instead of all of that, I am a friendly filly who just wants to help everypony.

Meanwhile, I am fighting a whole group of nearly perfect combatants who are the opposite of who I am. Between these two inherent factors, the results come as no surprise at all. This is clearly an ineffective tactic.

In addition, I also feel venom flood within me. I think there is a way to counter it but I haven't mastered that yet.

Then I freeze, my blood chilled, when I hear Button's dying scream. It is ear piercing at first but quickly grows quieter due to the damage and loss of strength.

“No!” I cry out.

Starlight also cries out in anger and fear. For a brief moment, I thought she is about to unleash some massive spell.

But, instead of that, a bunch of the changelings, who had her pinned to the ground, suddenly drain a massive amount of her energy just as she attempts to unleash it. They feed on her fear just when it explodes to its peak. There is something usually perfect about their timing, too, as if they were waiting and ready for Starlight to do precisely that. The end result cancels whatever spell Starlight was about to cast because now she's too exhausted to pull off any spell.

“Sweetie . . . Belle,” Button cries out weakly.

“Button!” I cry out in fear then race my way towards him.

Curiously enough, the changeling clones don't get in my way this time. In fact, they do the opposite. They get out of my way and appear to relish my pain from a short distance away.

When I get to Button, I notice there is still a black spike sticking out of the chest that Button, specifically in the heart area. This blow was aimed to kill, but not kill quickly. Instead, he's left to linger for a few moments as if to savor our pain.

I also notice that the spike is grown from one of the vines in the cave wall, thereby proving that we are indeed surrounded by a hostile force. The vines alone can attack us if the original controlling it wishes.

Likely it also means he saw, heard, and felt us enter inside ever since we first arrived at the vines.

I can't fix this. When I see Button dying in front of me in my body, my mind blanks. I'm only vaguely aware that a small part of my mind desperately cries out for this to be a nightmare from which I will awaken because, if this isn't, then Button is really dying in front of me.

“I . . . tried,” Button struggles to say before coughing out blood. When he recovers moments later, he says, “I'm sorry.”

I realize at once that he is apologizing for failing to defend me. That really is his last dying thought. There's so much more I would have thought to come from him in a moment like this, especially as a foal, but he really is thinking of me.

He really does love me!

“Button, I-” I try to say before blinking as sudden motion occurs before me. It kind of looks like a blade slicing upwards in an ark which came from the same vine that stabbed him. A moment later, the head of my true body falls over and quickly spreads blood on the ground.

Now my mind is shocked numb. I plop down and sit for I don't know how long. Out of the corner of my right eye, I vaguely register Starlight weakly crying out for me to leave the cave.

But I can't. I can't even think right now.

The world spins around me. It blackens and fades away.

The sound of dripping stirs my consciousness after a moment. I look around to get my bearings. Wherever I am, it appears to be a black void.

Am I dead?

“No. I've drawn you into The Room,” Raven explains from somewhere nearby. When he does, I look around in an attempt to locate him until he says, “Look below you.” I do so and notice I appear to be sitting on a lake of some kind. The reflection of the water reveals some stars above and yet, when I look in the actual upward direction, or anywhere else for that matter, I see nothing but a black void.

So I return my look at Raven below me whose upside-down image looks down at me as if he, too, is sitting on a lake and looking down at my reflection.

“I'm sorry,” Raven apologizes to me. “I know this is hard . . . especially for you. You care deeply about the ponies around you.

“This . . . this just isn't our day. Victory eludes us.”

“What do you mean?!” I demand to know. “What happened?!”

“Well, for starters, Button Mash died,” Raven informs me.

“N-. . . no! You're lying!” I deny.

“Denial will not change our reality,” Raven tells me curtly but I hear a distant note of sympathy in his voice. “Nor what is to come next.”

I widen my eyes as I ask him, “What do you mean?”

He sighs before telling me, “Hope has no place in these caves, Sweetie Belle. There's temporary sanctuary here in The Room but it won't last long. Time is resuming outside of this place, although at a slower rate compared to our perception in here.” He looks off to his side. “Dreams are weird and they are capable of far more than most realize. I'm not even sure if the Princess of the Night is aware of the full capabilities of this place.”

“Is there any way it can help?” I ask desperately.

“We can say goodbye before we, too, die,” Raven tells me. “Pray that we do indeed perish, Sweetie Belle, for if my original spares us, it will be with a far worse fate in mind.”

“No. NO! I won't accept this!” I shake my head in fierce denial. “Why, Raven? Why? You know how to kill, but you've never been that eager to kill, yet all I saw in that cave was a feral monster.”

“That's the truth of it,” Raven agrees as he stares forward blankly at nothing. “He is feral.

“We miscalculated, Sweetie Belle. We entered this cave expecting him to be reasonable, but he's not. He can't be. Not after what he's gone through.”

“Why?” I demand again. “Explain this to me.”

“What good would knowing do us now?” Raven asks bitterly.

“I still want to know!” I insist. “Now answer me!”

Raven releases a deep sigh before explaining, “The only way my original self could assume control of every changeling clone is to form a physical link into each ponynapped victims in the cocoons, and they switched minds with the changeling clones, although I still haven't figured out that part yet. I don't know how he accomplished the switch and we'll likely never know.

“What I do know is the method he used to connect with everyone is very taxing. He became all of those vines in the cave, Sweetie Belle, and those vines are connected to the others.”

He shakes his head as he goes on to say, “No wonder he worked so hard to protect the secret location of his lair. Not only does it have what he stole from the Mirror Pool, not only does it have the ponynapped victims, but it has him, too, in a state that cannot be moved anymore. Not as he is now. It's the only way he could accomplish what he started.

“Basically, Sweetie Belle, he had no intention to let any of your friends live the moment they discovered the real location of his base. I'm sure he'll hunt down and destroy every one of the changelings that got informed by Starlight, too.”

“But he values changeling lives!” I object. “That's why he's doing all of this.”

“That used to be true,” Raven partially agrees. “In a deeply twisted way, it might still be true, but starvation has its toll, Sweetie Belle. Even a mind as strong as his can't endure it forever while keeping his sanity completely intact.

“I'm sure he fought so hard to maintain control of himself over this . . . Well. I don't really know how long it's been for him.” He shrugs. “Maybe a year.

“My point is, he considered this to be a noble and necessary sacrifice. This method he's employing will eventually kill him, but my guess is not before he does a lot of damage in Equestria in his starved and feral maddened state.”

“And all of this because he doesn't trust anyone. Not even his own clones!” I realize. “He's taxing himself to death because he knew he had to in order to maintain forced control over his own clones.”

“Which also means he knew he was working with a deteriorating timetable from the start,” Raven adds. “Whatever plans he has for Equestria, he knew he had to accomplish it before he dies.”

“All of this is stupid!” I cry out. “And you're not stupid, Raven. I really believe that, and now I know he's a victim too.”

Raven looks down which, from my perspective, he looks up at me as he regards me with surprise.

“Really?” he asks me with disbelief. “He killed your special somepony, Sweetie Belle. It's likely he'll do that to Starlight Glimmer too if he hasn't already. He might also savagely tear down all of Equestria . . . and you still feel sorry for him? Really?”

“You changelings may mimic our forms, Raven, but not even the Ghosts are skilled enough to truly understand our hearts,” I proclaim. “Your original self is a victim because he believed that all of this was necessary to secure a future for his race, and his upbringing drilled harsh distrust of everyone into him. So much so that he grew convinced that this was his only option.”

Raven slowly looks ahead of him. I notice how he doesn't argue with me.

“And now that mentality is killing him and choking the life out of Equestria. He'll probably even end up destroying the very race he was trying to save . . . and I care, Raven. I care about him, you, me, and everyone he threatens to harm.”

“Your compassion is irrelevant,” Raven tells me coldly. “None of that is going to change cold, hard facts.” His shoulders sink in depression as he goes on to say with sad acceptance, “None of that will change our fate.”

“Oh yeah?” I challenge. “Well you just watch me! A changeling can be whomever he or she chooses to be, Raven. That includes a miracle! If I have to become a miracle to save the day, then so be it!”

I whip my head upward as I gaze above with determination.

“I know who I am, Raven! I am Sweetie Belle . . . and I always follow my heart. If your cold engine of logic is not up to the task then step aside and prepare to be amazed!”

I morph myself into pure light then fly up in order to emerge back into consciousness again.

I feel that same surge of energy burst from my body as I emerge back to consciousness. For the third time in my life, it feels just like the awakening of my cutie mark and, just like the last two times, each successive time is greater than the last.

Light shines all around me. A moment later, I realize that I am the light. I am truly in an incorporeal form.

I don't really question it right now, however. I just roll with it because it is granting me the power to do as I feel I must.

I know now that darkness and emptiness fills the heart of Raven's original self. An emptiness caused by loneliness and starvation. Having been a changeling myself for a while now, I know what that feels like, and I also know what the cure for that is. The best way to counter an empty feeling is for it to be filled.

I wash healing light all around me. Doing so does restore and rejuvenate Starlight Glimmer. To a point, it even heals my original body as well, but it remains dead because of the energy that once sustained it has left. That is an empty husk for the moment.

But I don't mourn it. Not yet, at any rate. There is a lot more healing I need to do.

I gather my energy close to the center of . . . whatever I am. Light, I think. I build up the tension of that energy for a moment then have it explode all around me.

A very curious sensation follows that I'll not be able to remember when I return into solid form, and that is what it is like to be expanding light spreading throughout the cave. I see everywhere within that light. I feel and connect with it energetically and vibrationally.

As I do so, I notice all the vines in the cave wither away as if burned, but in truth, I am filling them with the kind of energy they were starved for.

He wants love? I'll give him that love and more!

I grow lost and dizzy for a moment as my senses expand throughout the cave.

Then, when I feel an instinct that I need to return, I gather my essence again and condense it at one point in space.

I still feel the warmth of love radiate through me but I gather it up and consolidate it within myself. When I do so, I feel weight return to me.

“Sweetie Belle!” Starlight exclaims. “Wha . . . what happened?”

I find that hard to explain when everything I did was by instinct alone. What I've gone through is as hard to describe as having a dream where I dreamed of something that can't possibly exist in the physical world.

But as my physical senses return to me, I notice the changeling clones around me have returned to their true form. A moment later, I notice their personality has changed, too. They are acting more like Raven so it means their true minds have switched back to their true bodies.

Then it occurs to me that, a moment ago, when my essence filled this cave, I became aware of where everything is, including the location of this changeling's true original self as well as the location of the ponynapped hostages.

“Come with me, Starlight,” I tell her. “I'll explain what I can along the way.”

This is the room with what's left of some of the relocated Mirror Pool. This is the room with some of the captured victims who are starting to emerge from their slime cocoons, and this is the location of the original Ghost changeling who started all of this. He is in a giant, fleshy cocoon that is starting to wither away. I approach it along with Starlight beside me.

“This is him,” I tell Starlight. “The original Ghost changeling.”

“Stand behind me, then,” Starlight orders as she spares a moment to glance in relief and concern as everyone else in the room starts to emerge from the slime cocoons. I think it is likely they became a “note to self” for her that she'll return to in just a moment.

I also recall, just as Starlight probably has, that her old friend Sunburst should be among those emerging from the cocoons right now. Furthermore, once we establish who all of them are, we'll also gain a better idea who was replaced earlier out in the world. Eventually we might even find out what they were doing while they were replaced.

When the tall, fleshy cocoon does wither away, we finally behold the true source of all of these changeling clones.

And, because of my recent experiences with one of them, I feel like I am beholding a part of myself now. A dark and evil part of myself, but I still identify with him on some instinctual level nonetheless.

I am less prepared to behold how shriveled and weak he appears. His lower torsos still are a fleshy mess that dissolves into the withering mass that was once all around him, but the changeling himself looks like a black twig with a head that's now too large to support it, yet he does so anyway, albeit painfully.

Once the love essence filled him, I thought he'd be rejuvenated too. Maybe he rejected it at the last second? Maybe he grew so used to starvation that he rejected the energy? Or maybe it harmed him like sitting in the shade too long then suddenly exposed to blinding light.

I get the feeling that, when he opens his eyes, it's the first time he's using them in a very, very long time. When he does, he narrows his eyes at me sharply and grins a bit.

“My, my,” he tells me in a weak and scratchy voice. “How fortune favors the bold today. Years and years of careful planning, strategic calculations, and set up all throughout Equestria . . . only to have one little white filly declare, 'Nope' and banish all of my carefully laid plans and ambitions.”

“I meant everything I said,” Starlight declares which draws his eyes to her, but his face remains directed at me. “Now that you're finally at our mercy, maybe now you'll believe us when I say that our offer for friendship is indeed genuine.” She shakes her head. “We don't want the changelings to fade away either. They are our friends, and you can be too.”

He closes his eyes, bows his head, and sighs tiredly. It also sounds like he sighs painfully. He remains silent for a few seconds before painfully cracking his eyes open at Starlight as he asks her, “Do you really mean that? Do you Pinkie swear to aid my people?”

Starlight looks a little taken aback by the way he phrased it.

“Ah,” Starlight blinks as she recovers before nodding and swearing very seriously, “Yes, Sir. I cross my heart, and hope to fly. Stick a cupcake in my eye. I swear to you, Sir, that I will find a way to aid your people.”

“Then . . . I can rest easy,” he says with relief and heavy fatigue. Again he closes his eyes and settles for that moment, then opens his eyes again as he looks at me. “Well then . . . I'll count on all of you to perform what I could not. If you can blow through everything I have laid in the way you did, I'm sure you'll find the solution . . . very likely where I'd never think to look.

“Fare thee well, ponies.”

I screech, startled, when hundreds of spikes suddenly blow right through his own head, meaning he used his own morphic abilities against himself. When that happens, he slumps over, now completely dead.

“Why the . . . why did he do that?!” Starlight complains in astonishment.

“He was a Ghost,” what sounds like Raven's voice says behind me, but somehow I'm able to tell it's not really him.

Still, I look back and see one of his clones sitting nearby. When he has both the attention Starlight and I, he goes on to say, “He's trained to kill himself to avoid falling into enemy hooves.” He narrows his eyes. “In order to ensure he doesn't leak any secrets of the Hive.”

“Ah . . . enemy?!” Starlight exasperates. “What enemy? I offered my hoof in friendship.”

I sigh sadly before saying, “I'm sure plenty of conquerors and would-be conquerors have once said to the natives they invaded, 'I come in peace’. Sadly, a lifetime of distrust was heavily ingrained in him which meant he could never give others the benefit of the doubt.” I turn my head and regard his corpse with pity. “He's probably one of the most powerful changelings we'll ever knowingly meet . . . but by Celestia, what a heavy price to pay for it indeed.”

Author's Note

This chapter hasn't earned the story any new genre tags but it does increase its rating to M for the sheer degree of it.

Chapter 39: Same but Different

“That's all of them,” Starlight reports as she trots over to me near the Mirror Pool. “Everypony except you, me, and . . .” She trails off sadly as she looks up at the small limp body she is floating nearby. Seconds after she does so, she floats it gently down in front of me.

I behold it. It is none other than the dead version of my original body. The first detail that sticks out to me is the fact that the colors of this body are greatly faded. That doesn't stand out as much since I naturally have a white body, but that whiteness doesn't seem as bright anymore. It leans more on darker gray now. The more obvious differences are in my faded green eyes and muted two shades purple mane and tail. Also, while my mane and tail normally end in curly tips, they now seem flat and matted.

The most curious detail of all, though, is the fact that there is no cutie mark on my old body anymore. Seeing that forces me to ask myself if this is normal for dead ponies or unique to this particular case.

As far as I know, it could be either. I have never beheld a pony corpse before. Not once. It feels especially ironic, in a chilling way, that the very first pony corpse I behold is my own.

I frown as I tear up when I remember that this body wasn't just my own anymore. Button Mash shared its existence towards the end, and he . . . and he . . .

Gah! I can't even think it!

“Starlight, I . . . I want to be alone for a little while,” I request with a shaky voice.

Starlight's reply came with some hesitation, but eventually she says, “I completely understand. I'll just, uh . . . I'll check on the others for now. I'll make sure that they get settled.”

Although I am not looking at Starlight right now and instead staring at my own corpse, I still notice Starlight turn her head and gaze off to the side with a look of concern in her eyes through the reflection of the nearby Mirror Pool.

“After all, we have a bunch of new and dangerous changelings to deal with. They seem spooked for now but, when they calm down, there's no telling what they might do next. I want to be there to settle this the very moment they recover because, whatever happens after that, it may be of critical importance. If just one of them could stir up this much trouble before, I don't want to think about what a whole army of his clones may do if our new relationship starts off on the wrong hoof.”

Starlight looks back at me sympathetically. Through the Pool’s reflection, I notice the corner of her lips quiver a bit.

“Given your enhanced understanding of them now, I'd be lying if I told you I don't need your help,” Starlight tells me. “That said, I'll still give you a few minutes to collect yourself and . . . um . . . mourn,” she finishes sadly.

“Thank you, Starlight,” I tell her in a tiny, almost squeaky voice.

Starlight draws close to me and sympathetically touches me on my back. Then, after a moment's hesitation, she pulls me into a gentle hug. When she does, I can feel her shiver in pain. That causes me to realize that she didn't just hug me for my own sake. She needs comfort too. So, of course, I naturally return her affection by leaning into her hug.

“Never forget, Sweetie Belle, you are surrounded by those who love you,” Starlight tells me in a cracked and wavy voice. “They'll need comfort too to help them recover as well. We're all in this together.”

“I know, Starlight. I know,” I assure her. “I just need a moment to myself. That's all.”

“Okay,” she accepts sadly before kissing me on my forehead. “I'll be back to collect you and you're . . . well, 'you' in a few minutes.

“In the meantime, please remember that you are loved very, very much.”

“I know,” I assure her again. “Thanks, Starlight.”

“You're welcome,” she tells me one last time before popping away into a shower of magical sparkles.

Poor Starlight. She's been through all of this today and now she has to help manage an army of extremely dangerous refugees. Whatever happens next in the next few hours, maybe even the next few minutes, may very well shape the future of our world in profound ways. If even one of those clones goes bad, we could all be in severe trouble.

But each of those clones has also been through a unique experience because they shared the existence with whatever pony, or some other creature, with whom that clone switched bodies. Whatever I've done here in this cave apparently restored them all to their natural bodies for some reason, but they will still carry that experience with them moving forward. They may have all started from the same baseline, but their experiences may shape them all into unique individuals thereafter.

I smile to myself when I think about that because I trust that most ponies have an inherently good quality to them. We are all highly individualistic but we do share that much in common. Even the worst of us have simply, “lost our way” for a little while. That's why those like the Cutie Mark Crusaders are so necessary. Like Diamond Tiara, sometimes all it takes is a gentle and kindly nudge in the right direction to help remind them of the light of their cutie mark.

By the same token, all of my race is meant to promote harmony in some unique way, and I trust my people to guide these changeling clones in a generally positive direction.

That's super good because all of these clones are starting off with a very negative baseline. Hopefully our influence helps to encourage them not to be hostile anymore, subtly or overtly.

“Sweetie Belle,” says a quiet voice somewhere nearby. This startles me for a second because I thought I was alone, but then the voice itself sinks in and I realize I recognize that multi-tone. The one difference about it is it sounds slightly echo-y now as if being spoken into a tin can.

Following the sound of the voice, I look beside me into the Mirror Pool and gaze down into it. Appropriately enough, this highly reflective magical water very well reveals my reflection with a dramatic twist; it is Raven instead who appears to be gazing down from his end as well which is up at me.

“Raven . . . it's good to see and hear you again,” I say with a slight smile as my eyes light up with relief and delight.

His shoulders sag as he says, “And perhaps for the last time.”

I grow greatly alarmed by that declaration as I immediately demand to know, “What do you mean?!”

“It is well apparent to me that a change in the status quo is in order,” Raven answers me. He shakes his head as he says, “Things cannot be the same anymore. Not as they were before.”

“Again, what do you mean?” I demand to know.

“Your original body is now dead, Sweetie,” Raven reminds me. “But I don't think that really matters anymore. The body you currently inhabit has become your own. It matches every detail that you lost. Your race, your breed, your gender, your age. I even think it is imprinted with your magic and therefore also your personality. There's only one soul that fits it anymore.” He shakes his head again. “And it's not me. Not anymore.”

“What?!” I exclaim in shock. “But Raven . . . this is your original body! It belongs to you.”

“Not anymore,” he argues. “Not ever since you made it your own. When you first transformed, you transformed its true form. I told you that. That change is irreversible, Sweetie Belle. That's why I was so angry with you before. It is because I realized I could never go back to it. It doesn't 'fit' anymore.”

“But you're a changeling!” I remind him. “You can assume any form you want!”

“True, but none of that changes the baseline,” he corrects. “Every changeling has only one true form, Sweetie Belle, and in this case,” he gestures to me, “it isn't me.”

“Well, okay.” I shrug. “So what? It may be a little different but it's still yours.”

“I beg to differ,” Raven counters. “You just don't understand us, Sweetie Belle, nor me.”

“You were the one who told me that you're always a blank slate,” I remind. “That you have no inherit name or ego anymore, so why is this different?”

“Because that body now has an ego and identity,” he elaborates. “From now on until that body dies, it shall forever be known as Sweetie Belle. No matter what other form it takes, it doesn't really change that inherit fact because your magic and spirit are now part of its base identity.” He shakes his head as he says with denial, “If I did take that body back, the only thing that would happen is I would gradually become you. My base personality would be altered to become more and more you over time which means I'd also become less and less myself. I am still a blank slate, Sweetie Belle, but that inherit fact would change if I took that body back now.”

He looks off to his side in the direction of my old body as he says, “It would be just like what started to happen to Button Mash. His fears were well justified because he was right.” He looks back at me. “Every body has a base magical energy signature to it. Your original body had your own which is only natural because you were brought into this world with it. Button wasn't, so while he shared your existence in your body, it gradually transformed him into you inside and out.”

He tilts his head down and to the side as he continues to look at me out of the upper left corner of his eyes. “He may have kept his cutie mark because that magical signature follows the soul, not the body, but it still didn't protect him from gradually inheriting your traits as well. Likely he would have ultimately transformed into an amalgamation of the two had the process continued unabated. Kind of like a hybrid.”

“And that's something you can't accept for yourself?” I ask gently. “Raven . . . it's okay to change. That is a changelings natural and most inherent quality.”

He looks in the direction of his original self he was cloned from, which is still in this room, as he tells me, “Well, as it has become very clear to you recently, I hold myself to much higher standards than the average changeling. We may be able to mimic any form, but we're always still blank on the inside. Only a white canvas can be painted with any image, but in our case, it's temporary.”

I look back at the corpse of his original self as well, except it's too high from my perspective to see much of it.

“Did you know that would happen?” I ask in a spooked tone. “That he would kill himself if he got captured?”

I look back at Raven and I notice him looking back at me at the exact same time like a true reflection.

“Yes,” he tells me grimly, “but I chose to withhold that information because I knew you were a bleeding heart that might hesitate to execute our mission if you had that guilt to hold you back, so I denied you that information for the good of the mission.” He shakes his head. “I couldn't afford to allow you to become more of a liability than you already were.”

Raven shifts his head back as a look of surprise claims his face while he says, “Of course . . . even I, like my original self, deeply underestimated you.”

He grins as he says with amusement, “You know, it's funny. I'm sure he said to himself that that wouldn't happen to him. That he wouldn't fall for the same tricks as every other 'super villain' had before.” He shrugs as he says, “Naturally he didn't consider himself as the villain but he did know that his goals conflicted with you ponies so he accepted that we're on opposite sides, especially since he naturally couldn't trust anyone.

“Regardless, I'm sure he was determined to succeed where the other antagonists failed.” Raven chuckles for a moment before he goes on to say, “But lo and behold . . . he lies as another vanquished opponent on the altar of yet another pony's unstoppable glory.” He pauses as he chuckles again before he goes on to say, “I swear . . . we antagonists truly will never learn.”

“That's not your only option, you know,” I express with great sincerity. “We can be friends too,” I offer. “In fact, I now see you as much closer than a friend. I kind of think of you like a twin brother or something similar.”

Raven smirks as he says, “After everything I've gone through, I suppose that even I can't deny that sentiment anymore either.” He looks elsewhere as he says, “And I think you're right about the other clones, too. Each of them has inherited something that I don't think they were truly willing to receive, but they have it now anyway regardless.” He looks back at me. “They probably inherited some aspect of whomever they were switched with, and they can't help it. After living that close with someone for that long, it probably is a natural consequence.”

He frowns as he goes on to say, “That means they are no longer truly blank slates anymore. They'll consider themselves tainted.”

I widen my eyes in alarm as I ask with horror, “Don't tell me that they are all going to kill themselves too for that reason?”

Raven adopts a discerning and calculated look for a few seconds before answering, “Some of them might, but it depends on the qualities they inherited from the individual pony, or whatever creature, with whom they shared their existence. That's the X factor here and the one element of this equation I can't weigh until I gather more data from each specimen. They'll all feel this instinct to be distrustful and that might even extend to feeling potentially suicidal, but don't forget . . . their memories of our original self was broken to begin with. Each one might have kept different pieces of our original self.”

He shakes his head before he continues his lecture. “So there is no guarantee about what they kept. That alone makes them different but, on top of that, they shared their existence with some other unique individual.”

He clomps his forehooves together to illustrate his point. He even morphs his forehooves together as if fusing the two halves as he says, “That, in turn, means the blend of these two sides could create any unpredictable combination.”

He grins again as he shakes his head. During that time he lowers his hooves and sperates them again. “Truly I don't envy Starlight for the burden she's about to receive. At least she's doing this willingly despite all of these problems. That's more than the clones can attest to.”

I frown at my changeling doppelganger as I sadly express, “But Raven . . . I need you now. You're a part of my life. Please don't ghost me.”

He sighs sadly as he says, “Well and truly, Sweetie Belle, that's all that I really am right now. I don't really have a body anymore and I refuse to repossess the one you tainted, so that leaves me out to dry.

“So fare thee well, Sweetie Belle. Enjoy the rest of your new life as you can.”

I scrunch my face with denial as I say with determination, “NO! I am Sweetie Belle and that means I am a miracle of life. I won't accept this reality that you're proposing and neither should you!”

Following my instincts and my heart as I normally do, I plunge my hoof into the water. When I do so, I end up grabbing something solid.

“What the . . .?!” Raven exclaims with shock shortly before I pull him out of the Mirror Pool.

“Welcome back to life, Raven!” I express cheerfully since I feel so elated to finally behold him in person. “Now you got your very own body again. We no longer have to share one.”

“What . . . you . . . how?” Raven asks, flabbergasted.

I shrug as I say, “I don't know. I just went with my gut and literally took the plunge.”

Raven just stares at me in shock for several seconds.

I bow to him as I tell him, “You're welcome.”

Raven narrows one eye at me as he says, “One of these days, maybe I'll finally grow smart enough to figure you out.”

I smile brightly as I happily express evenly, “On that day, maybe I'll figure myself out as well.”

Now Raven narrows both of his eyes at me.

“That's the thing about Cutie Mark Crusaders,” I tell him honestly. “We're always on an adventure and we're always exploring our potential. We're always changing, too. I've accepted that a long time ago.”

“Riiiiiiight,” Raven says slowly.

Suddenly, Starlight teleports right beside me and expresses ecstatically, “Sweetie Belle, I have really good news!”

“Really?” I ask Starlight with rising excitement. “Well don't keep me waiting then, Starlight! Out with it!”

Noticing my company, Starlight's intense excitement momentarily vanishes and is replaced with curiosity and a bit of concern. To Raven, she asks, “Um . . . who are you? I'm pretty sure I've teleported everyone else in here.”

“Oh, him?” I ask with a bright smile. “Starlight Glimmer, meet Agent Raven. He was the changeling that was inside of me until now.”

“Huh?” Starlight asks me as she looks at and tilts her head at me in confusion.

“I just reached into the Mirror Pool and pulled him out while we were having a conversation,” I say matter-of-factly.

“As one does,” Raven says with a roll of his eyes which is hard to tell with his blank, bug-like eyes.

Starlight narrows her eyes at Raven with a heavily discerning look while rubbing the bottom of her chin. After a few seconds of this, she asks him, “So you were the one who knocked me and Ocellus out, stabbed Twilight, and nearly turned me to stone?”

“Yes,” Raven replies simply and gives Starlight a stare back that subtly seems to dare her to challenge him over those facts.

“Ummmmmmmmm . . .” Starlight narrows her eyes even further for a moment, to the point of downright squinting, before she suddenly widens her eyes back to normal, brightens, and instantly seems to accept, “Well okay, then. Good to know.” She then extends a hoof as she greets, “Let's start over again. Maybe this time we can start on the right hoof. My name is Starlight Glimmer.”

“I know,” he replies as he accepts her hoof then says very dryly, “Charmed, I'm sure.”

“Um,” I look from Raven to Starlight then lean forward as I apply a hoof beside my mouth and whisper to Starlight, “As you can see, he's not a very social bug. At least, not in his true form.”

“Uh . . . okay. We can work on that later,” Starlight resolves. “If you want to,” she amends to Raven.

I lightly punch Starlight on the shoulder as I remind her, “So what's the great news? You still haven't told me.”

“Huh?” Starlight asks in confusion as she looks at me then suddenly brightens again. “Oh yeah. That.

“Good news, everypony. Button Mash has finally awakened from his coma!”

I instantly brighten to the extreme as I excitedly ask, “Really?!”

Starlight nods as she says, “My guess is that happened when your original body died. At that moment he returned to his original body. His color and his cutie mark returned to him. Not only that, but he's no longer sick! The doctors, while very surprised, still expect to discharge him quite soon after giving him a thorough examination to make sure he's alright.”

“STARLIGHT, THAT'S WONDERFUL!!!” I exclaim with ecstatic glee. Finally some really good news! This means Button is still alive and back in his old body again! Yay!

“Yes, it is,” Starlight agrees with a soft smile to me before changing the subject. “So, Sweetie Belle, are you ready to come home yet?” Then she looks at Raven. “Both of you?”

“I am!” I agree excitedly. “I can't wait to rush into Button's hooves and give him a big hug. After what I suffered through recently, I could use the comfort.” I give a silly grin as I add, “Besides, the handsome prince is always supposed to get the girl at the end of his harrowing adventure. It's time we gallop off into the sunset together like every romantic couple should.”

Starlight's smile deepens as she says, “I hear that.” Then she focuses on Raven again as she asks him, “And you? Are you coming too?”

Raven sighs as he says, “I suppose . . . for now.” He straightens himself. “To help make up for our earlier encounter, I'll do what I can to help you with the rest of the clones. Something tells me you could use the hoof.”

“Yeah! No kidding!” Starlight exasperates. “I could definitely use the help if you're planning on helping me establish peace.”

Raven applies a hoof to his chest and bows to Starlight as he says, “At your service, Milady.”

Starlight grins at Raven as she says, “I already like you better than your original self.”

Reminded of that, Raven looks at the body of his original self for a moment before looking back at Starlight with a shrug as he tells her, “It's complicated.”

“Yes. I'm sure,” Starlight agrees with a slight narrowing of her eyes before looking back at me brightly as she offers, “Well then. Shall we?”

“We shall!” I accept brightly.

And, with that, Starlight Glimmer teleports us back to Ponyville.

Back to where I belong. Back to my friends and family.

Finally and truly . . . I am home!

The same, but different.

The End.

Author's Note

So that is Sweetie Belle's story, at least for this book. I hope you enjoyed it.

I wonder how predictable this "mystery" story was for you all. Overall, I am guessing it is a mixed bag. Some things may have been predictable and others a surprise. More often than not, probably a mix of the two.

So this story ends with Sweetie continuing her life as a changeling whose true form is that of her original form. Button also returns to his body but keeps his memories of the experience while he was switched. Both characters grow from the experience that might not be totally welcome but are, nonetheless, true for them.

And such an experience may affect them ever onward in but subtle and strong ways. Social dynamics may change. For example, Sweetie's relationship with the rest of the Cutie Mark Crusaders but she's also further affirmed what is important about herself during this journey and that most especially includes the friendships she's made. With determination, that'll never change.

So our adorable little heroine has grown up some. Her story is done, at least for now.

What stories might this inspire from you? I'd be interested to know, for in the end . . . this may be simply one chapter among many others to come.

Speaking of which, I started working on a new story just yesterday on 4/21/2022. If that makes any serious progress, you might be able to read that one too someday. For now, what I can say about it is it's a prequel to 1k Years Later with the setting of the moment Cozy, Chrysalis, and Tirek get freed from stone.

Epilogue: A New Face

“ALL ABOARD!” the train conductor calls out to everypony on the platform of this train station.

Fortunately for me, I don't have any bags to carry, so I just trot on board the train. During that time, I am both amused and disgusted that no pony checks my forged train ticket before I board the train. Instead, they are content to check it during the trip.

Huh. These ponies are so pathetically naive.

Without a word to anypony else, I sit down at my assigned seat and wait for the train to take off. When it does, I look over to my left at the window next to my seat. In it, I can see the reflection of the new face I am wearing at the moment. In this case, it's a brown coat gentlepony with a darker brown mustache and a long goatee. He is also wearing a monocle on the right eye and has a gray Bullard hat with a black stripe in the middle.

Not that it really matters. This face is just as false as any other I may choose to wear.

I am so glad to be out of this area. Thorax's new changeling hive isn't even close to the home I used to know. In fact, it seems deliberately reversed. They mostly live out in the open now instead of an ever-morphing, hole-filled hive. They dance, sing and prance in the daylight.

I can tell I was not the only one of my fellow clones to feel revulsion at the way the hive turned out. Many of them gave me a disgusted glance as they seemed to ask me, “Can you believe these new changelings?”

Worst of all was the “feelings circle” that they kept recruiting us clones too. There, the other reformed changelings kept encouraging us to share our feelings with the rest of those present within the circle. Fortunately they didn't insist, but it's also why most of my fellow clones just sat there and silently glared at everyone around them.

I knew what my fellow clones were thinking because I felt the same way. Each of us must have been thinking some variation of, “Why should we trust any of you with our secrets? We don't know what you'll do with them. Even if we can be convinced that you have benign intentions right now, how long will that remain true? And even if you stay loyal to us later, how do we know that you won't slip our secret to some other potential enemy later?”

That's the way we always think and are raised to think. Everyone is either an enemy or a potential enemy. No exceptions. Not even the other members of the Ghosts. Perhaps I should say especially the other Ghosts because they were our greatest competition.

I know, just as my fellow clones do, that none of that really happened to us, but I still remember all the scheming, backstabbing, sleuthing, cunning investigations, and interrogations we had to do against our fellow Ghosts. I remember that the only way to become the leader of the Ghosts was to decipher a code that each of us had one/tenths of. By whatever means necessary, we had to get the other pieces of the code and put it all together in the correct order. Only the leader knew the full code because he or she made it up. This includes the last piece of the code. If we could decipher it, then that changeling becomes the new leader. That position is official when we offer the rest of the Ghosts a new piece of the new code which starts the cycle all over again.

What I, and I suspect most of my fellow clones knew, was that our original self was the last and final leader of the Ghosts before we got disbanded due to a major compromise in the Hive.

It took so much to finally attain and secure that position. That is why it is humiliating in the extreme to finally be caught and revealed to the open public with our true face. A breach in security that severe would normally require us to kill ourselves and, even if we don't, the other Ghosts would.

Despite my humiliation and discomfort, I did help Starlight track down some of our remaining clones who virtually scatted on the winds. Individuals of whom, I knew, would really want to protect their privacy and secrets, as any true professional spy would. Knowing how they feel and why they feel that way, it was painful for me to aide her in finding them. It felt like treachery, but in the long run, it might present some valuable opportunities.

Starlight had it easy at first. She managed to pull the ones who were immediately in the cave to a secure location in Ponyville then eventually the Hive, but not all of the clones were in the cave. In fact, most of them were on the field. Since we were able to secure and rescue the original bodies of those they switched with, because they were right there in the cave when they switched back, we had a good idea whom those clones switched with and how many there were.

But I knew, before we even started hunting for them, that we were up against a major challenge. I knew the very first thing the members of the Ghosts would do as soon as they realize their position has been compromised is to basically and immediately go underground and even clean up any evidence that would help their pursuers track of us down. Ultimately this means we needed to track down some of the most elusive individuals our race has to offer. It honestly surprises me we managed to track down even one of our members, let alone six of us.

But, after that, the trail got too cold and I strongly suspect those clones started to realize one of our own was trying to track them down so they grew even more careful to hide the evidence. When I started to see that pattern, I knew resuming our quest would be a fools errand.

This, of course, means the majority of the clones are still at large somewhere in the world. I wonder how prepared the world will be to hoofle that fact.

I really got to hoof it to Starlight, though. For a pony, she really is impressive. And, despite my personal discomfort, it felt gratifying to work with such a competent individual. I really can't help but wonder how far she would have gone among the Ghosts if she were born a changeling from the start.

But the Ghosts, as an organization, is gone now and, quite frankly, we clones were born into slavery. We never had a chance to fully conceal our true selves. Everything just “happened” to us. There was no control over our fate until now.

Still, old habits die hard. One of us clones even remained so quiet that some of the other reformed changelings back at the Hive affectionately started to nickname that one, “Silent”.

These pathetic changelings have no idea what we had to go through. How humiliating and traumatizing it was to be forced into the backseat of our very own bodies and forced to witness every word, action, and even feelings of our invaders. We were secretly floating in the slime cocoons but we remained connected to our true bodies somehow.

Only I got fully dislodged from Sweetie's body in the cocoon when Button came and took my place. From that day, until I got this new clone body, I was still just a passenger in my own body except for one brief moment when a hypnotic trance brought me to the surface of consciousness.

My fellow clones must have gone through similar experiences. Tucking their foals in at night, going to work, paying their taxes, and singing along with the rest of the town for the stupidest of reasons. It's baffling how such deeply individualistic ponies also have such a strong “follow the herd” mentality sometimes. When any group activity starts to pick up, these ponies’ sense of personal self gets washed away and replaced with group madness.

My fate was not much better off compared to the rest of the clones. The only difference is Sweetie became aware that she was a guest and I was the host. To her credit, at least she tried to be courteous about that once she reached that conclusion.

That doesn't follow through with my natural instincts. I wouldn't have given up the advantage once it's secure, but hey! If she wants to be polite, who am I to complain?

I gaze through the window to my left at the passing terrain while my “train” of thoughts shift to a new track. During that time, I remain subconsciously aware of some extraneous details of my surroundings, as I am trained to always do. Things like how many others are sitting in my train car, what color they are, what breed, species, and gender they are, their position to me and each other, the temperature in the room, the number of potential escape routes, the rocking of the train car, the sound of the train tracks, and much more.

Innocence.

I don't think I truly knew what that word meant until I shared part of my life with Sweetie Belle.

Although, technically speaking, I shared the majority of my life with Sweetie Belle since I was so recently created.

Originally I probably would have grouped the word “innocence” as a synonym to other words like, “fool”, “gullible”, “stupid”, “naive,” “easy mark”, “weak” and other such things.

But now I have to ask myself does innocence still equal weak? If so, how was she able to trounce an army of highly trained changeling clones plus my original self? No changeling has ever done what she did before. Becoming pure energy, even if it was only for a moment. I can't even come close to fathoming how she was able to pull that off.

The best I can figure is that it has to do with innate pony magic combined with changeling magic. Somehow the two mixed and produced very unexpected results. It might also be that the results of the accident of their magic table which caused an unusual mutation in our case.

By the same method, she changed my original base form too. In the process, she accidentally discovered a possible cure for our race’s breeding problem by becoming the first true female of our race we've ever known since Queen Chrysalis.

However, despite that discovery, King Thorax and his reformed changelings agreed to back off from Sweetie Belle for now and give her a fair chance to grow up as a natural pony. It will only be when she fully feels ready and also starts ovulating will the other changelings carefully approach her again and politely ask her if she's ready to be subjected to some testing. After all, she still might be holding on to a possible cure for our race, and Sweetie is willing to help too because of course she is. That's pretty much all she ever does.

I never told her this, but in the process of sharing her life with me, I had full access to her memories as well. I dipped into it sometimes because I wanted to understand her better. It's perplexing to me that the more I researched her, the less I understood her. All I could understand is the fact she lived a very different life than I did. It is a life of trust, security, love, and friendship. There is a camaraderie she shared with others that I can barely understand. This is particularly true with her closest fellow friends, the Crusaders. I really can't identify with the lack of thinking and just going with one's gut kind of lifestyle. In my eyes, that opens up too many chances for error and that lack of logical precision is just too unsettling.

Yet Sweetie is happy. Truly and wholeheartedly happy. I used to be tempted to call that a weakness of hers, yet she pulled off something I still can't understand.

I think back to the number of innocent adventures she had with her friends. The number of times she high-hoofed with her friends. The explosive inner glow of love whenever her parents hugged her. The times she happily pranced after her sister in the hopes to get noticed and maybe, just maybe, make her older sister as proud of her as Sweetie is of her older sister. It actually felt like a pipe dream to Sweetie for the longest time but she never gave up that hope anyway.

The irony is Sweetie probably started to succeed in that goal over and over again around the time she finally stopped trying to suck up to her older sister and forge her own destiny.

Playing in the sandbox, coloring in a little coloring book, writing new music, getting her muzzle messy as she playfully licks up ice cream, giggling with her friends . . . all of this I used to wince at and pity how weak she was, but now I can't help but wonder if I'm now looking upon those memories with a sense of jealousy. Happiness didn't seem worth it if it came at the cost of worthwhile power, but how exactly did she achieve both? At the end of the day, she won, and I'm forced to reconcile with that fact even as I struggle to understand it.

Is it really possible to have a piece of cake and eat it too?

Still, I am actually glad that the other changelings are backing off and allowing Sweetie a fair chance to grow up first before being bothered by all of these other extra things. The poor girl has been through enough lately.

In fact, I'm sure her challenges aren't over yet. The camaraderie she had with her sibling-like friends required her to be equal to them, and now she's not. For better and for worse, she is older on the inside. As a result, she's not in as much sync with her other friends.

Who is to say how that new challenge will develop their relationship? All that I do know is all three of them are unlikely to give up.

Also, even if Sweetie is ahead in the curve for now, her friends will catch up eventually. Every foal has to grow up someday. That's just how this world works unless they are killed first. I'll never dismiss that possibility, either, because I am a grim realist. I know how the world really works. I know because I caused death to happen more than once.

Or, at least, my original self did. I guess if I really think about it, my hooves are technically clean of blood. Sure, I may have stabbed Princess Twilight at one time, but I have yet to actually kill anypony despite my overwhelming potential to do so.

Once again . . . innocence. Pure, uninvited, and unavoidable innocence . . . so far.

I feel like hissing in disgust!

Though I suppose this is a chance for a fresh new start. That presents new options that I may seriously have to consider. After all, there is no need to attach myself to a past that hadn’t really happened to me.

In a way, it’s all just a dream.

I look at my reflection again and the false face I wear.

Every moment of every day, I could change this face. The only one I am tempted to avoid is my true form for I cringe at the exposure.

Yet, as a realist, I have to acknowledge that the world truly is becoming a more and more friendly place, primarily thanks to these ponies. Old spies and soldiers like me are slowly losing our place in the world. We just don't know what to do with ourselves in a world full of genuine peace. With a whole lifetime of preparing for the worst, what can we do when the worst never comes?

I used to think that Sweetie's life is a life full of flaws and vulnerability to danger, yet a life like hers is quickly becoming the norm. Maybe she will continue to be okay or better. Maybe she doesn't need old demons like me to protect her anymore.

And Sweetie . . . what a life she has. What a light she is. While my hooves are trained to bring nothing but destruction and death, hers restores life. She can even create life. That’s a very rare gift for any changeling.

Maybe I really don't have a place in this world anymore.

I don't really know what I've become, but I am clearly not the same as I used to be. I used to be someone who can do whatever is required of me in my mission without hesitation or mercy.

I'm not cruel. I don't enjoy torturing others. Rather than that, I just don't care. No matter how much praise or insults are thrown my way, I don't allow anything to distract me from my mission.

Or at least that's what I would have said before I shared my life with Sweetie Belle.

When I keep thinking back to the moment I stabbed her in her virtual shoulder within The Room, I still cringe in pain. The greater irony is Sweetie Belle herself is probably fine now. She's laughing and playing with her friends and family as if no tragedy has ever happened to her, and yet I'm the one who is still haunted by that memory.

When I attacked her and made her cry, I hurt her for only that moment. On the other hoof, when I attacked her and made her cry, I hurt myself for possibly a lifetime. That shocked me at the time and I still have trouble accepting it. Why has this pathetic little filly gotten to me more than any other I have ever tortured?

Even with all of my training in psychology, the only conclusion I can reach is that I'm too emotionally invested to see the truth clearly. It's hard to see a whole dresser drawer, for example, when one's muzzle is shoved right up to and stuck against a specific spot of it.

I never had a specific draw to do “evil” things but it used to be that I didn't have an aversion to it either. I did whatever I had to do to complete my mission. Whether that requires me to drop some bodies or buy them ice cream, it didn't matter to me so long as it served my mission in the end.

But now, whenever I even think of hurting others, I can't help but imagine Sweetie Belle crying again. Those tears still haunt my mind in a way I never thought possible. Now I can't help but hesitate before striking because I imagine that my action would cause Sweetie to cry if she witnessed it. This limitation angers me! I would like to yell at the little white filly “SHUT UP ALREADY”.

But, of course, I'm only arguing with my own hypothetical mind which reveals a very real emotional scar. I've done self analysis plenty of times to check for weaknesses. Now I'm finding too many all the time. I feel like a compromised secret agent who probably should fully retire, but I really don't know what else to do with my life. I've only trained to be one thing and, despite all of my new flaws, I am still really, really good at it. Better than most would be. The main reason I criticize myself so much is because I keep comparing myself to true perfection. I've never achieved that standard before but I used to be closer. So close that the chances of me failing a mission was almost zero percent sometimes.

I usually aim for overkill because there's always a chance for something unexpected to happen, but that didn't protect my original self in the end. He literally starved himself out with the belief that he truly had to try that hard to eliminate any chance of error with his especially important mission, but if just one innocent and seemingly weak little filly can undo all of his carefully laid work, do I ever stand a guaranteed chance of succeeding in something? Or, indeed, anything? If not, if it's truly impossible to secure a one-hundred percent chance of success at something, is it really worth trying so hard? Over-exertion may burn me out and weaken my odds of success with the next mission. I have to be willing to look at the big picture too.

With all of these memories I have of my original life, it boggles my mind to realize that he's now dead. All that is left of him are hundreds of clones to carry on his legacy. Each one has just bits and pieces of him, much like children of a mutual father.

Maybe some of us, or even most of us, have the majority of his memories, but we'll never truly know, will we? We'd need the mind of our original self and carefully compare the details, and we have forever lost our chance for that.

But if he was sitting in my place and went through what I've gone through, I bet he'd suffer an existential crisis too.

Who am I really? That's a very good question. I'm very familiar with wearing a false mask to hide my true self from even myself, but I'm not nearly as adept at exploring the changeling beneath the mask. We are all locked down and limited by the constraints of our own self-perceived standards of perfection. Very often, our standards of training made us so superior that we are indeed the last ones standing time and time again when the dust settles.

Oh, how lonely it is at the top. I tried to make myself comfortable, or at least emotionally detached, from that fact, but I don't think I can do that anymore. With all of the emotional fulfillment I sampled through Sweetie Belle, I don't think I can ever really and truly go back to the way I was. Not unless I could somehow force myself to forget all that I have ever learned.

But even if I could, would I? Once I've become aware of other possible options in life, it's very hard to ignore them.

Maybe I should accept the fact that there shall always be a little Sweetie Belle in me from now on. The voice of conscience that I never really asked for, yet can't deny once I received it.

Sweetie Belle.

In an odd way . . . I suppose it's not really so bad being your brother after all. Your innocent yet oddly powerful charm is really quite infectious. By tainting me with imperfection, you may have also inadvertently set me free.

When I step off the train, I look about to see if I spot her, and, indeed, I do. I see Sweetie Belle, along with her friends and family, carefully scanning each pony that exits the train. They are probably expecting me not to be in my true form. Sweetie Belle knows me well enough to predict that at the very least.

To be fair, though, I think she's the only one putting any actual effort in locating me.

I did not fully realize, until our eyes met, that I had a secret plan to ditch her if she failed to locate me. I don't like to get close to others and have them know the “real” me. I'm too private and suspicious for that.

But the moment our eyes locked onto each other, she smiles at me in recognition. I do not realize, until a moment later, that I sheepishly smiled back at her. It's quite embarrassing to be caught, especially by a seemingly weak little filly. I used to successfully guard myself against the other members of the Ghosts, damn it! How can this little filly see right through me so easily now?

But, of course, some of the answers is pretty obvious.

“There you are!” Sweetie Belle cries out excitedly as she rushes over to me then leaps onto my back to give me a big hug from behind.

“Ah . . . Sweetie, are you sure this is him?” Sweetie's father, Hondo Flakes, asks in discomfort as he approaches the two of us. It's obvious to me why he's uncomfortable. After all, if Sweetie is wrong, she just glomped a total stranger. As her father, he's going to have to take responsibility for that if she happens to be wrong.

“Yep!” Sweetie cries out excitedly. “I'm sure.”

Both of Sweetie's parents look at me sheepishly while each of them hopes that I'd let them off the hook by admitting who I am.

I must admit, what's left of my sadistic and also private side does kind of enjoy watching them squirm.

But I owe Sweetie a lot, so I decide to grant them this boon at least one more time.

“It is kind of embarrassing for me to admit that she's caught me,” I admit out loud. “As you may be able to understand, I used to be quite good at acting.”

“You still are!” Sweetie squeaks happily. “But it's not your fault. After the two of us have grown as close as we have, I probably could spot and smell you out a mile away.”

“Ah . . . pleasure to finally meet you, Sir,” Scootaloo says very nervously to me. “Sweetie has been telling us a lot about you lately.”

“Really?” I ask as I pass a slightly playful glare at Sweetie on my back. “And just what does she say about me?”

“Ah . . . nothing compromising. Honest!” Scootaloo promises in a slight panic.

When I look back at Scootaloo, I realize that she fears me far more than she's pleased to see me. Because of that, I decide to tease her a little by widening my eyes and opening my mouth to salivate a bit, for I can smell her fear, and it is delicious!

Because I do that, Scootaloo fearfully cringes behind Sweetie's parents.

Oddly enough, Apple Bloom fearlessly holds her ground. I wonder why she is the braver of the two.

“Howdy,” Apple Bloom greets me as she approaches me and offers a hoof. “Mah name is Apple Bloom. Pleased to meet'cha, partner.”

“Be nice,” Sweetie Belle lightly scolds me on my back. “I'm sure I don't have to remind you that these two are my dearest friends.”

I sigh irritably. Sweetie Belle's request puts some unwelcome constraints on me, but I know how to playact if I have to.

“Charmed, I'm sure, little lady,” I tell Apple Bloom gracefully as I pull off a move that probably surprises her. Instead of shaking her hoof in a friendly manner as she wanted and expected, I instead scoop it up and kiss the tip of it. When that evokes a very surprised blush from little Miss Bloom, I grin faintly and cunningly at her as an evil spark twinkles deep in my eyes.

Behind me, Sweetie Belle scolds me by pounding on my neck with a light tap and requests, “Stop teasing my friends, you sicko,” she says with a bit of a playful giggle.

“Hey ya, Sir,” Hondo somewhat nervously greets. “Listen. I'm sure you were eavesdropping when I had my conversation with my daughter, and, well . . . I just want to say that I apologize for my earlier remark about not trusting changelings. It was unfair of me to label you all the same way and, for that, I apologize.”

“Apology rejected,” I tell Hondo bluntly and immediately which greatly startles and takes him aback. “I won't accept any apology for one of the few acts you did wisely.”

“Huh?” Hondo asks me with a confused tilt of his head.

“You were right to label us, Sir,” I explain. “You may have been at fault for judging all of us that way and that really was an oversight on your part. For that, I forgive you, but as for the rest,” I flash him an evil smile as I briefly morph on rows of jagged teeth, “watch your back, Sir. We changelings are capable of much worse than you can imagine. Certainly far worse than we have chosen to reveal so far.”

“Ah,” Hondo looks very uncomfortable now. “Thanks for the warning. I'll be sure to keep that in mind.”

“Yes. You do that,” I agree stiffly.

These ponies might feel like I'm assaulting them but I'm actually doing them a kindness. If they remain ignorant to how much we can be a true threat to them then next time they might suffer something far worse.

Aside from that, some of my fellow clones remain at large and their behavior is potentially quite erratic. Prudence is always wise in any case.

“I hope you don't mind, Sir, but a bunch of us here in Ponyville have decided to throw you a party,” Apple Bloom informs me.

I assume a droll look as I say, “Of course you did because ponies. I'm surprised that you didn't try to make it a surprise party.”

Apple Bloom grins in amusement as she says, “Actually, Pinkie Pie was trying to talk us into it but,” she shifts her look to Sweetie Belle who is still hugging me on my back, “Sweetie Belle said ya're too much of a detective.” She looks back at me. “So ya probably would'a seen through the surprise anyhow, so we might as well be upfront about it.”

Then, for some strange reason, Apple Bloom lifts up a cowbell and looks at it as she says, “Pinkie also wanted me to put this on you so we could keep track of you and make sure you don't try to gallop away from the party.”

I grin at her viciously and flare my eyes with a sinful glow as I dare her, “Oh, by all means, please try and find out what happens!”

Now she's finally intimidated. Apple Bloom backs off a few steps and hides the cowbell behind her as she smiles at me timidly and says, “Ah . . . thanks, but no thanks. Ah think Ah'll spare ya this one fer now.”

“Oh, are you sure?” I ask as I twist my head sideways in a deliberately unnerving way. “It could ever be so much fun!”

Behind me, Sweetie Belle giggles then says, “Maybe I can talk you into wearing that cowbell.”

“You first,” I tell her dryly with a sudden deadpan expression. “You're a changeling now. You morph it on.”

Delight sparks in her eyes as she asks me, “If I do, will you do it next?”

“No,” I tell her bluntly. I don't even bother following that up with an explanation. This little filly should know me better than that.

“Oh,” Sweetie says with disappointment as her ears droop.

I look away from her at that moment because I don't want to reveal that her disappointment secretly hurts me inside now.

“But you're still coming to the party tonight, right?” Scootaloo asks me nervously. “After all, it isn't just to celebrate your return to Ponyville. The party is actually about the success of helping to reform the other clones of you. I heard they were making progress back at the Hive.”

More progress than I ever thought would happen, in fact. There have only been four suicides over these last three moons, one of which was one Starlight and I happened to track down which was exactly why that one killed himself. That was another reason that convinced her to finally back off from trying to track down the others.

One of the clones has even been driven to tears at the Feelings Circle, of all places. Both I and the other clones present were downright shocked to witness that!

After that, I quickly realized that we all had post-traumatic stress disorder to some degree, and the one who broke down must have had it especially tough. We all have very strong and disciplined minds that are trained to remain calm under pressure and even while under torture. I probably don't want to know what caused that particular clone to cry in public like that even with all that extra pressure to do so.

I don't think it is my imagination that the one who broke down sounded female when he did so. Maybe the pony he replaced was a mother who lost her foal or something during the switch. I can only guess, but it must be something really bad to crack one of us this soon.

“Yeah. That figures,” I accept a little numbly while I reminisce on what happened across these last three moons.

“So you are going to come?!” Sweetie Belle asks me with rising excitement.

“Yeah,” I say with a lamenting sigh. “Let's get this over with.”

What can I say about pony parties? It seems quite festive and annoyingly typical for the race.

I can't accuse them of being lazy about it either. The bouncing pink one, in particular, seemed to spare no effort or expense with this. Since she has three balloons for a cutie mark, I might have to call this typical for her despite the degree of effort applied here.

It takes longer than I thought it would for every pony in this purple crystal room, which used to be the throne room of this castle, to finally get the hint that I don't like to be social. Not unless I am impersonating a pony like Miss Pie. And even if I do, I wouldn't be doing these things from the heart.

I especially feel this way because I've been encouraged to reveal my true form at this party. It took a while to finally convince me to do that, but it is another reason I'm keeping others at a distance. I hate, hate, HATE to reveal my true form because it makes me vulnerable. I'm perceptive enough to know that these ponies aren't really planning anything against me but that's beside the point. Sweetie was actually right about one thing regarding me. I am not a social bug and they need to accept that.

There are some other changelings in the room, too. Most of them are reformed changelings but a few of them are fellow clones. Notably, they are the ones who opened up the most and they still look reserved in this setting.

I sweep my eyes across the room as I take in the various details. Party streamers are hung above. A white unicorn Dj is at a Dj booth and playing some kiddie-sounding party songs while bobbing her head to it. With some insistence, I've practically been force-fed some of the punch in this room. It tastes really fruity, much like the festive mood of these gay pastel ponies in this room.

But, for a moment, I actually try to look at all of this through the eyes of Sweetie Belle. I know she'd look beyond the surface of all of these things and instead put a special emphasis on the emotion of this moment. Even now, I am seeing her dance with her friends and having a blast.

An inner glow ignites within me as I behold her far more fondly than I expected to feel. I do my best not to show it outwardly, and I probably succeed, but those feelings are there nonetheless.

This lifestyle . . . it's not for me. I know that now, but I still can't help smile a bit as I see Sweetie throwing herself into this. When I see it, I know it makes her happy and those feelings are absolutely genuine.

I grin a little further when I notice Button Mash, in his own body again, shyly approach Sweetie Belle and ask her for a dance. In response, Scootaloo and Apple Bloom giggle a bit but they also back off. As for Sweetie Belle, it is likely she eagerly says sure because they enthusiastically do exactly that moments later.

With a small touch of horror, it dawns on me that there are too many within this room that want to extend their hoof to me in friendship, but I am not like these ponies. I don't feel comfortable with others knowing my real identity. Even with a cover identity, there are limits to how far I'd be willing to go. I'd never do something to actively betray the Hive, for example, though I might pretend to up to a point.

Rapid calculations spin in my mind as my future unfolds in front of me. I quickly realize how much I could get trapped in this situation. This might happen exactly that way to the other two clones of mine in this room, and that's fine. I don't really care about that. They can do whatever they want. We might share some similar history, sort of like identical twins, but we each have our own individual destiny from now on.

However, for me, I don't want others to get close to me. I prefer to keep my relationships professional and detached because I don't like to lose control of myself. I don't like to get all touchy-feely no matter how much hidden and surprisingly intense power there might be in it. I'm a changeling who leads with his mind. That's who I am and that's what I do.

Sweetie, of all ponies, would understand the importance of knowing one’s self and protecting free will.

In an attempt to look for a moment when I’m not being observed, I use a strenuous technique that causes a state of hyperfocus, thus making time seem to slow down according to my perception which allows me to process information at a super accelerated rate.

Unlike Sweetie Belle, I actually know how and why this technique works. Basically, it is accomplished by temporarily morphing considerably more neurons in my brain. With that many extra neural pathways, everything about the brain functions at a super-fast rate, including sensory input.

There are many drawbacks to this technique, though, that I think Sweetie wasn't aware of. With all of those extra neurons firing, it consumes my body’s nutrition at a faster rate too. Prolonged use also brings a slew of hostile side effects as well which increase in types and intensity as the process continues. Accordingly, this makes it an exceedingly dangerous technique, especially to maintain, but depending on what I am facing, it may be better to suffer physical, mental, and psychological side effects rather than be dead instead. The extra boost might save me, or my mission, at just the right moment and in just the right way.

During it, I look for a brief moment when no pony else is looking in my direction, not even through a reflection or off the corner of their eyes. In my mind, I can actually visualize the cone of perception of every single creature in the room. When I notice a brief window of opportunity when I’m being unobserved, I rapidly change my form to blend in then promptly leave the room. After that, I return my brain to the normal rate of thinking by necessity.

Be well, Sweetie Belle. You know who you are and even I know you well enough to know that you can not only thrive here, but you downright require this to be yourself.

This isn't me, however, so I need to be on my own again and find my own place.

I need a fresh start. I need to go where no one else knows me.

The thing is, I know the ponies moved a very special device here in this castle that affords me a unique opportunity. I know the downsides to it as well which is why I hesitated to exploit it earlier, but now I think it's come to this.

Due to my experience in being in other forms, I probably adjust to this faster than most would. Another thing that helps is that I had a thin idea of what to expect.

Still, as I emerge from the magic portal behind me, I need a moment to fight for my balance on what is now only two legs.

I hate the fact that this is broad daylight, too, and that there are other two-legged creatures about that could have noticed me.

But, as I carefully assess them, I notice that I am unusually lucky at this moment because none of them happen to glance in my direction and notice me struggling with my balance.

I wobbly make my way to the side of the portal behind me. On the side is a gray stone slab that comes upward at a bit of an angle. I place what is now my hands and arms on the side of the stone slab to help balance myself. While I stand there, I inwardly analyze my muscles and quickly calculate how my new body works. I move tiny individual muscles and I lean back and forth to test where my new center of gravity is. I also surreptitiously look at the others around me and examine the way they walk and their posture. I take that knowledge and I compile it in The Room. After that, I close my eyes and put myself in a brief trance for a few seconds in the real world while as I practice walking upright for about an hour within The Room until I am certain I've got it down right.

“Are you okay, little boy?” someone female asks nearby me. I pop my eyes open and look behind me. There I see an older woman who has a swirl of red and gold hair. She also wears a black jacket and wears a tea shirt with the image of a red and gold sun emblazoned on it.

I also take careful note how far up I have to look in order to gaze at her face from the perspective of my new diminished stature.

“Ah . . . yes. I will be fine,” I tell the woman as I stand up straight and proper. When I spoke, I noticed that my voice sounds pretty young. If I have to guess, I’d say it’s a close match to Sweetie Belle's age in the other world.

“I was just feeling a bit overwhelmed is all,” I explain to the woman to assuage her concerns and, more importantly, her suspicion. “I've never been to this place before, you see.” I glance to my side and rapidly take in the details. “This school,” I amend.

“Well, you're in luck, then. I know my way around Canterlot,” the woman tells me brightly.

“Canterlot?” I echo back at her.

“Yeah,” she says as she shrugs towards it. “Canterlot High.”

I look forward again at the stone wall to hide my face as I say, “I see.”

So this place is an institution dedicated to knowledge?

Excellent! This could serve to my advantage.

“Are you waiting for your parents here?” she asks me in concern.

“Yes,” I lie immediately. “They’ll probably be here shortly.”

I look down at myself and I notice that I am wearing clothes too. Specifically black slack pants, a black vest, and a white short sleeve shirt beneath that is well revealed in the chest because of the open vest.

I also notice there is a small bump in my black vest. I pat it for a second and notice there is an object concealed with it. I reach in the inside of the vest and notice there is a hidden pocket there. I fish out the object that is within the pocket and notice it is wrap-around reflective sunglasses.

Since they are reflective, I lift up the glasses for a moment in order to get a more careful assessment of my new form. Doing so confirms that I am a younger member of whatever this species is.

I smile at the glasses deviously.

“My name is Sunset Shimmer,” the kind woman greets. “What's your name?”

“Me?” I reflect then ponder this for a rapid moment before coming up with a clever answer. I put on the wrap-around shades before turning to face her as I announce, “Call me Ghost.”

Author's Note

It is interesting that this story started and ended on the very last day of their respective months.

I'm just going to come out and say it: This just might be my favorite chapter of this book. I just keep going back to it to re-edit it over and over again the day before post and I just can't tire of it. This chapter wraps up many, but not all, loose threads quite eloquently and I've always liked Raven as a character. It's challenging to write for a genius when I am not one, but it's still fun when it turns out well.

And, of course, at the tail end of this story, we finally get a peek inside his darkly fascinating head.

This story has very little connection to most of my other stories on this site which, at first, was deliberate, but there is one small exception, and this is it.

Ghost, the last former leader of the Ghosts.

He did make one brief appearance in The Shadow Queen, though he was mentioned in that book multiple times as the young teenager who was too good at sleuthing, for his age, to be believable. Back then, when I wrote that story and that character, I didn't think there would be a follow-up to that story, but I always sensed his potential even then and was curious about what more I could learn from him.

Well, now we all know, or at least know better to some degree.

One of my readers even started writing an epilogue of his (?) own to elaborate more on what happens to "Raven/Ghost" and his subsequent adventures with Sweetie Belle and her friends/family while he waited eagerly for this chapter. Not only do I accept that effort but I'm even delighted, for there are two major things I wanted to accomplish with each of my stories. Number 1) to entertain. Number 2) to inspire.

That is why I invite any of you to write your own story about anything you want, including something based on this story.

For instance, I left the fate of the other clones deliberately open-ended. If any of you want to grab one and pretend it switched, for a time, with any of your OC's, or anyone else of your choosing, go ahead. I both welcome you to run with that idea (or whatever else inspires you) and would love to read whatever you come up with if you let me know. I could even help you edit it if you want.

For a basis, know that the original changeling that started making these clones, and switching them with others, did so around the time of Season 9, episodes 24-25 while Cozy, Tirek, and Chrysalis were keeping everyone else distracted. Sweetie is among the earlier test subjects because he thought a child would be easier to work with, but he worked his way up to higher priority targets after that. About a year later, Sweetie's miracle cure switched them back. When that happened, a few were in that cave immediately but most were on the field. From there, they'll do whatever you imagine they'd do, modified by the fact that they kept different memories of the original and furthermore limited to the perspective of the one they switched with.

Imagination is the fire that lights and creates whole worlds and beyond. Have fun with this sandbox and do as you will with it.

In the meantime, I thank you for joining me on this journey. It has been my pleasure to present it to you, and hopefully has been a pleasure for you to read. If you want, feel free to take a look at any of my other stories. If you do and leave a comment, I'd love to read what you think. Be warned that a few might be hidden behind an M rating, and in both cases so far, it's exactly because of only one chapter.

Before you go, there is one song I came across while listening to Pandora a couple of days before I posted this last chapter that reminded me of this story a little bit because the lyrics somewhat fit the theme of this story. Take a look if you want, though some of you might already be well acquainted with this song. Consider it a final afterthought to send you off with music akin to the credits at the end of a film. Let's see if this song gets stuck "in your head", too.

Enjoy.

Chapter 1: Whistle in the Fog

“Thank you so much, Sassy!” I say as I back out of my sister's shop in Canterlot, The Canterlot Carousel. “I'm sure the dress you'll make with that fabric will be lovely.”

I feel warm and satisfied. Another day, another client helped. This errand was not an official Cutie Mark Crusaders business, but eh. Whatever. Family is family. No matter what goes down, I'll always make time for the fams. That's just how I roll.

Or, at least, that is what I'd like to tell myself.

But the moment I spin around and sweep a gaze across the streets of Canterlot, I am immediately taken aback by how empty and how eerily quiet it is. These streets should be filled with crisscrossing ponies, especially in the capital city of Equestria and in the broad light of day.

But instead, the streets are empty. Empty of all but a white fog.

I wince as I consider this very strange. The fog might explain the absence of other ponies from the streets of Canterlot, but a fog like this should have been scheduled way in advance. Everypony should be notified.

Then it occurs to me that perhaps they have been notified, but since I don't personally live in this city, I might have missed that notification.

A cheeky frown spreads across my face as it occurs to me that Sassy Saddles should have warned me about this if everypony in the city knew.

Oh well. Time to make my way back to Ponyville. As nice as it is to visit Canterlot, Ponyville will always be my home.

So, with a simple shrug, I make my way down the streets. I am bound for the train station back home. The last that I recall, I have plenty of time so I don't rush.

But, as I continue my journey, I hear my own hoof clomps on the cobblestone streets of Canterlot. Normally that is no big deal. I'm a pony so I grew up with these kinds of sounds all my life, although I will say that the mostly dirt streets of Ponyville greatly diminish this kind of sound.

However, whenever I do hear these kinds of sounds, especially in a normally busy street like this, the hoof clomp sound is joined by so many others that they all collect together in a cacophony of noise. It isn't really irritating noise. Just normal. The kind of sound a pony takes for granted.

But here . . . everything feels wrong. The emptiness is wrong. The fog is wrong. My lone hoof clomp sound is wrong.

I'm starting to get scared.

I pause for a moment. Upon doing so, my own hoof clomps silence as well. Replacing that sound is . . .

. . . nothing. Absolutely nothing.

This is wrong. This is so wrong.

“Huh . . . hello?” I call out into the empty fog around me. “Is anypony out there?”

No answer. Not even the slightest sound except for the sound of my own breathing.

I don't know whom I expected to answer me. I suppose I could have accepted anypony. I would gladly accept anypony at this moment. This city is just not meant to be this quiet during the daylight hours.

I shiver. I can feel my fear growing like a shadow claiming my heart. It almost feels like my white, alabaster hide is draining into a gray color.

White glowing fog hangs around me. The silence is deafening. I'm very attuned to music so I pay attention to these kinds of things.

I moan a little, hoping against hope that somepony would hear my distress and take pity on me by answering my lonely call in this empty fog.

It might be my imagination, but the fog even seems to be thickening. I can no longer see down the end of this street. Even the buildings and pushcarts off to my side are starting to vanish as if claimed by the fog. As if the fog is erasing my environment from existence.

I momentarily panic as I imagine the extreme form of this. If there is nothing but fog all around me then I'd totally lose my spatial orientation. Every direction would seem the same as another. Nothing would be visible except the cobblestone under my hooves. I imagine trotting in any direction and encountering nothing but endless fog.

For such white, puffy clouds low to the ground, they oddly seem to have a menacing quality to them at this moment. Normally I think they are pretty. I especially love the way it causes dew to drip from grass.

I trot on. Desperation drives me forward. It isn't intense in me yet but I can feel it growing. I very much do not like this pattern.

I continue. Hoof clomps beneath me, but otherwise thick silence.

As I feared, I am quickly growing convinced that I am lost. I continue, but there isn't much apparent change around me. The movement of cobblestone below is the only true clue that I'm moving anywhere, but I encounter nothing else in that fog.

No buildings.

No street signs.

No street corners.

No horse carriages.

No ponies.

Nothing!

I moan louder with worry. I am growing very distressed.

I increase my trot to a canter. Surely if I go far enough, fast enough, I'll encounter something out in this fog. Some clue to tell me where I am. A street lamp. A statue. Anything! I'll take anything!

But there is nothing. I seem to be lost in an empty, endless void.

I slow to a stop as a troubling thought occurs to me; what if this is why I can't hear anypony else? What if this is what happened to the others? What if this is a magical fog that transports everypony into some endlessly empty dimension? If so, this wouldn't be the first magical menace to plague Equestria.

Normally I do not regret my life's choices. Being a founding member of the Cutie Mark Crusaders has fulfilled my heart in such a way that I can't explain to others.

But this particular moment makes me wish I was a wizard instead. I am a unicorn, after all. In theory, the profession is at least possible to my kind. That's a wonder and privilege that many other kinds of ponies cannot enjoy.

If I was a wizard, maybe I could use my magic horn to dispel this fog or teleport someplace else in Equestria. Boy, I'd sure save a lot of bits since I wouldn't have to use the train all the time!

But, on the other hoof, I kind of enjoy riding the train. Even if I'm alone, there is something soothing about that subtle rocking of the train, watching the terrain pass me by outside the window, or listening to the sound of my own voice as I sing in the somewhat acoustic car of the train. During such times I have plenty of time to stop and think. It gives me time to sort out my plans and arrange my next moves. I've often found it vital.

And sometimes I meet very special ponies on the train.

Well, that and other creatures too lately.

A jolt passes through me when I finally hear another sound out in this endless fog. In this case the slow trot of another pony. It sounds very distant but fairly intense. I have to surmise that it must be a fully-grown pony, unlike me.

“Hello?” I call out into the fog around me. “Can somepony hear me?”

For a moment I am elated. Finally somepony is out there. I feel especially encouraged by the fact that the other hoof clomps pauses for a moment as if to acknowledge my call. Next, I expect that pony to call me back.

But, instead, I hear the hoof clomps resume its journey and nothing else.

“Hello?” I call again. “HELLO!” I cry out louder.

Eerily, no answer, but the hoof clomps resume. From this distance, it is very hard to tell if the hoof clomps are moving towards me or away from me.

I shiver as a danger instinct suddenly claims me. It occurs to me that, if there is somepony out there, it isn't necessarily friendly, though that usually is a safer bet. My species is normally a kind race. Likely that is because the magic of Harmony washes over us all. It's so deeply intrinsic to our nature that most of us don't even question it.

But it isn't universally true. Some ponies have strayed from the norm. Cozy Glow and King Sombra are pretty infamous cases of that.

What if . . . what if the pony those hoof clomps belong to is the reason everypony else has vanished? This sound is the only thing breaking this otherwise deafening silence. That already makes it suspicious.

I might be in danger. I was scared before because of the fog, but I've grown to realize that I'm even more frightened now that I know for sure that I'm not alone out here. Somepony else is out there. A pony that will not answer my call. I can't think of any normal pony that would resist calling back under these circumstances unless it is the villain that caused this fiasco.

Suddenly I realize it is very important to establish if those other hoof clomps are getting closer or more distant.

Then it occurs to me that I better not wait to find out.

I break into a hard gallop. I'm not taking any more chances. I have decided that it no longer matters if those hoof clomps are getting closer or more distant. I will make sure they are growing more distant.

My breathing quickens. I can hear it. I pant, but I also continue.

I must go. I must gallop away! I must retreat from danger!

And I do. It takes me a while to notice, but the sound of the other hoof clomps does eventually fade due to the escalating distance.

After some time I slow to a stop in order to just pause and listen, or at least I try to listen. The sound of my own quickened breath temporarily obscures any other sound but, eventually, it does calm down somewhat.

I listen.

Empty silence greets me.

I breathe a sigh of relief until it occurs to me I'm right back at square one. I'm still lost in the fog. Lost in an endless void.

It also terrifies me to consider the fact that I might have been wrong earlier. What if the other pony would have been friendly? What if he or she would have helped? No pony else seems to be out in this endless fog. Maybe even a villain might be preferable to absolutely nothing.

Lost in the fog . . . for all eternity!

But then my ears twitch as another sound finally greets it. I direct my ears on the top of my head in that direction. I listen to it carefully. Upon doing so, I eventually realize that I hear the sound of those hoof clomps again. It is even more distant this time but it is definitely coming from another direction. In fact, it is now coming from the direction I was galloping towards. If this is the same pony, it's as if he or she teleported ahead of me.

Either that, or there is more than one pony out there.

I try to squash down the panic that tries to bubble up from within me. Instead of that, I quickly analyze my options.

Hoof clomps that were behind me. Hoof clomps that are now ahead of me. Maybe coming towards me or away from me, I still don't know, but it is clear that I'm not totally alone out in this terrible fog after all.

Pony feathers! Am I dreaming? If so, Princess Luna . . . help!

I frown as I recall the former Princess of the Night is now retired. She doesn't make house-calls into ponies’ dreams anymore, does she?

Aside from that, I still haven't established if I'm dreaming at all yet. It might be safer to assume I'm not for the moment just in case the danger around me is mortally real.

I decide to pause for a long while and simply listen. After all, if I start galloping in any direction, the other pony, if indeed it is a pony, would hear my hoof clomps. That might not be the best idea for the moment.

Pony feathers! Now I wish I was a pegasus so I can simply leap up and fly through the air. No guarantees the fog won't just continue in every direction above me as well, but at least it means increasing my odds of escaping those menacing hoof clomps in the fog.

I listen. My breathing slows, but my annoying heart rate increases. Bump-dee-bump-dee-bump rhythmically drums in my eardrums and thus threatening to obscure the sound of the other hoof clomps. Despite that, I eventually realize that the other hoof clomps are indeed drawing closer to me. They are growing very steadily louder. As they do so, they start to echo just slightly as if the sound is bouncing off brick walls that I can't even see anymore in that thick fog.

As a pony, I am a herbivore that likes to travel in herds. I feel so displaced being out here all alone, but in addition to that fact, it also means my species is prey at some primitive level. Our minds have evolved so much beyond mere primitive instincts, but that part of our brain is still there. Right now those instincts are ringing like crazy that I am in serious danger right now!

I slowly start to back off from the direction I hear the approaching hoof clomps. I don't want to make a sound in order to avoid drawing attention, but there are two problems with that strategy.

One; I'm traveling too slow. The other hoof clomps aren't hurried, but they are traveling faster than me, and they are getting closer!

Two; even at my greatly reduced pace, I can still hear the sound of my own hoof clomps. Right now I curse that fact! I really wish I was back in Ponyville with its soft dirt that hides our hoof sounds.

Now, admittedly, my ears are better trained to detect minute sounds. That just comes with the territory of being a singer. Since more of my brain is dedicated to that task, I can detect more subtle tonal shifts than most other ponies can. Just because I can hear my own hoof clomp sounds doesn't mean this quiet stranger can. Besides, I'm closer to the sound of my hoof clomps anyway. I hope the distance between us is enough to conceal my hoof clomps, but the distance between us is decreasing. As it does so, I feel myself drawing ever closer to escalating danger.

Then, spontaneously, the sound of a whistle breaks the otherwise eerie silence.

I gulp hard, but I decide to test this pony's motivation one last time.

“HELLO! IS ANYPONY OUT THERE? CAN YOU HEAR ME? CALL BACK TO ME IF YOU CAN!”

There is no change which starts to deeply frighten me. The hoof clomps continue to get closer and the sound of the whistle does not even slightly cease. It is as if this pony never heard me despite how loudly I called out. That might mean this pony is deaf, though it seems a little unlikely such a pony can hold a tune as well as . . . he? . . . does if he really is deaf.

Yeah. From the sound of the whistle, I'm now leaning towards a male gender for this individual but without total certainty.

While there might be many possibilities, my instincts insist that I don't ignore the one that claims this pony heard me alright and is choosing not to call back to frighten me on purpose. If that is the case then he might do so much worse if he finally catches up to my position.

Panic wells inside me again and, this time, it is growing too powerful to fully contain. I moan in fear as my situation feels increasingly more desperate. I might be too helpless to prevent whatever harm is coming my way. Whatever it is, it is in no hurry to come. It is as if he's taking his time to savor my terror.

As primitive instincts rush to claim me, I break into another hard gallop. Once again, I rush away from the sound of the hoof clomps as well as the sound of the whistle. As before, it starts to fade in the escalating distance. Whoever this other pony is does not increase his pace. My hoof clomp sounds are very noticeable now but it provokes no change in this other pony.

While I rush, I once again notice that I encounter no other sign of civilization aside from the cobblestone beneath me. At this point I am certain this is some kind of spatial distortion. I should have run into something else by now, but I haven't. The street does indeed seem endless no matter which direction I choose to go. The only difference in any direction is one of them has the sound of hoof clomps and a whistle which continues to grow more distant.

Until it doesn't. Eventually I notice that the same hoof clomps and whistle is now ahead of me again. It is as if I galloped within an inverse universe.

I stop and listen. As before, it is hard to hear over the sound of my own breathing, but when I eventually am able to, I notice that the other sound is indeed approaching me again. More frightening still, I notice it is much closer than it ever was before.

How did that happen? I galloped away from the sound! This can't be happening!

The whistle echoes off structures I can't even see. Because of that, it starts to surround me. I gradually grow confused which direction it is actually coming from.

The tune itself is fairly innocent. I'd normally dismiss it as casual and jaunty, but the current context puts a nightmarish spin on it. Now it feels like the sound a psycho would make while happily chopping a pony into tiny bits with an ax. Blood would splatter on this mad pony's face and hide as he merrily continues his gruesome work. There is such casual indifference in it, too, as if this has been done many, many times before. If that is true, this psycho is an expert at killing. Someone with that much experience would be very hard to defend one's self against.

Especially against somepony like me. I'm just a little filly!

What do I do? Every direction I gallop, I seem to only be drawing closer to the danger. It seems I cannot escape this being. It's like a looping universe that is steadily growing smaller, thus locking me closer and closer to the danger that intends me harm.

For a brief moment, I move away from where I think the sound is now coming from, but due to the echoes around me, I'm no longer as certain which direction is safe anymore. This makes me hesitate after just a few short steps.

I pitifully moan again in helpless fright.

Princess Luna, help me!

Mother! Father! Rarity! Somepony, anypony, help me! Help me or I'm going to die!

I don't want to die. I have so much to live for! So many ponies to help. So many moments I want to share with my very dear friends.

The whistle around me gets closer and closer. As it does so, it starts to distort. It starts to get a bit shrill as if the pony behind it is steadily revealing that he is, indeed, a monster that intends me harm. No longer does the song sound entirely carefree and innocent. He's shifting it to deliberately be scary.

I have noticed that he's just very gradually dishing out these pieces of evidence one by one. Whoever this pony is is much worse than a mere psycho. This is a pony who also knows psychology at an expert level. A pony who knows how to build fear one layer at a time. Each layer is carefully sculpted and crafted like a true artist.

Everywhere I turn, I realize I am surrounded. There is no direction that seems safe anymore, and even my current spot may lose it's safety soon.

I really don't want to give up and accept my fate, but it feels to me like I simply have no choice. This person is giving me no choice. Whatever he's going to do to me now feels inevitable.

I do have my magic. I can maybe toss him around a little with it, but I really doubt that I can. In the first place, it is very hard to concentrate with this much fear gripping my heart. Secondly, I'm really not the type of pony who can consider harming others in any capacity. Maybe I'd bluff my way into safety by pretending I'd be willing to cause harm with my magic, but that's about it. I draw the line there even if my life is at stake.

However, if other's lives were at stake that I care about . . .

Well, I really don't want to think about that.

I collapse to the ground and tuck my legs beneath me. Since it seems every direction is as dangerous as another, I just painfully accept my fate and wait for it to come to me. As I do so, I am desperately hoping that this person will find some mercy in his otherwise black heart.

The whistle increases until it seems to reverberate all around me. It surrounds me. It penetrates me. It feels like a predator just waiting before taking a painful bite out of me. I brace for the pain as much as I can. I cringe, whimper, and squint so tightly that I eventually close my eyes entirely.

But then, all of a sudden, the whistling stops. I also gradually notice that I'm not in horrible pain yet so I slowly start to open my eyes again.

The whistling is gone. The fog is gone. I'm still alone, but I'm now surrounded on four sides by tall brick walls that seems tucked away in some hidden alley of Canterlot.

Although, judging from the architecture of that which surrounds me, it eventually dawns on me that brick walls like this are too out of character for Canterlot itself. That city is way too classy for this.

“Caaaaaaw!” calls a raven that lands on a metal rail at the edge of a building ahead of me. It skips a few steps as if needing to to cancel the remainder of its momentum. After that, it turns to face me.

I sniffle and wipe my tears away with the back of my hoof. As I look up at the raven, I smile a bit to myself. Finally seeing the company of some other creature is comforting, and there isn't much a raven can do to harm me anyway.

In fact . . .

“Hello, Mr. Raven,” I cheerfully greet as I crawl up to stand again. “Were you lost and scared in the fog too?”

The raven just silently stares at me.

“I was lost too. That was really scary!” I confess to the raven.

The raven just stares at me.

“But maybe we can help each other?” I suggest innocently, then frown. “Gosh, now I really wish I had Fluttershy's gift of talking to animals, although . . . if I can get you to deliver a message for me to her . . .”

I leave the thought hanging.

The raven just stares at me.

“Mr. Raven?” I ask in a little more frightened voice. The way this bird just seems to stare right through my soul is gradually growing unnerving.

Finally he makes a move. The raven slowly spreads his wings to his side. There is a bend at the middle point, making two arch shapes to each side of him. At the same time, the black feathers on him start to stand on end, making him appear just a bit bigger.

“Mr. Raven?” I repeat with greater worry.

“Caaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaw!” he cries more deeply.

Just then I notice shadows thicken unnaturally around him. A shadow stretches from his diminutive body but grows frighteningly large as it envelopes the alleyway. It's almost as if the sun is suddenly setting in a hurry, but what it actually looks like is this raven is projecting darkness like a star would project light. The shadow seems to swallow the light as if consuming it.

“Mr. Raven, you're scaring me!” I complain in fright in a shaky voice.

Just then I noticed that a steady hum is rising in the background. When I finally realize it is there, it also occurs to me it was there before but too soft to detect at first. Now, however, it is quickly rising. Like the frightening whistle earlier, the menacing hum starts to surround me.

As illogical as it sounds, it dawns on me that this raven was somehow responsible for the hoof clomps and whistling earlier. Maybe he changed his shape somehow. In any case, the monster has finally caught up to me. I am staring at him right now, and he is staring back.

The humming grows louder. It becomes almost deafening. As it does so, I sink to my knees again. Tears blur my eyes. Snot clogs my nostrils. I don't know what is about to happen to me, but it probably isn't good.

“Caaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaawwwwwwwww!” the raven cries out menacingly. During that moment, his tongue sticks out far too long to be normal. It is a bit less than half of his entire body length.

Then, at the last second, the caw sound shifts to a terrifying screech.

Or maybe that is the sound of my own voice.

Author's Note

Oh no! What's going to happen to Sweetie Belle?

Well, you'll have to find out each week on Saturday if all goes to plan.

Here we go again. A start of a new series.

When it comes to writing for non-OC characters, it is my aim to make them feel like show-canon characters who may or may not be in situations they would face in the show.

It is also my hope that this story can re-light fire and passion for this story severe enough to even provoke comments from those who normally stay silent. Please let me know what you think because it provides me with the incentive to continue.

Something else to note about this story; because it has the mystery genre tag (which is the first of its kind among my fanfics on this site), I'll withhold other genre tags that apply to this story until it becomes pertinent to reveal them, otherwise they'd act as a minor spoiler. I'll also note in the author's note of each chapter exactly when the story gained the new genre tag. But, once it's added to the story, it shall remain there from then on. If the story needs to lift the rating from T to M, I'll likewise inform you in the author's note of the chapter that caused the story to change to that.

Here's a video that could fit the ambiance of Sweetie exploring the empty, foggy streets of Canterlot, though feel free to suggest another if you have one.

Here is an example of the music I was thinking of when I wrote this, specifically for the mood of Canterlot during the fog.

The next song is something I pictured for the whistle of the mysterious stranger in the fog, including the fact it starts innocent but gets scarier at the end.

Chapter 5: Change of Plans

I sit in the cushy red booth at McMilkshakes with, of all things, a milkshake! Strawberry flavor in this case.

What a delicious treat for myself, and the glass is so tall too! It is about as tall as my hoof to my first bending joint of my forward hooves.

With my prize, I squeeze it between my forward knees. With it, I practically hug it close to my chest affectionately as I slurp it down. While I do, I offhoofedly look out the window to my right at all the passing ponies this evening.

Since I'm a traditionalist pony at heart, sometimes even more so than my good friend Apple Bloom, there is a part of me that wishes Button Mash was already here and he paid for this shake, but eh . . . whatever! He hasn't arrived yet and I'm not going to wait that long. Besides, he can buy me the next one. Then I'll have twice as many milkshakes. Yippy!

A date. My first date. I linger on that thought as well as the sheer idea that I might have a very special somepony now. Between that and my career as a Cutie Mark Crusader, I'm like . . . hyper mature now! I'm like a big pony. I'm practically an adult already.

I daydream about our possible future together while heart symbols pop around my head like bubbles rising from a cauldron. Obviously he'll do all the traditional stuff for me like buy me flowers, treat me out on dates, open the door for me, save me if I'm ever in trouble, hug me close to his chest whenever I feel that need for connection and emotional support.

But, since he loves me so much, he will also value and respect my occasional need for independence. The fact that I'm out working won't bother him one bit. In fact, he might stay at the house and look after our foals, of which there'll be a few. Probably at least two. While looking after the kids, he'll probably be halfway distracted playing video games. Let's be realistic here. This is Button Mash I'm talking about.

Despite the distraction, he'll do a decent job looking after the foals because the kids are into the video games too, and the games in question are two player games or more. Anything worth doing is worth doing with friends and family. That will be the bond they share among other things. When I come home from work, they'll all happily brag to me about the new score they achieved together.

For a moment my future life flashes before my eyes. The trots we'll go on as a family as we go out camping while my older sister, Rarity, complains about how the wilderness is affecting her complexion. We'll gaze up at the clouds while resting on picnic blankets. The kids will go off playing together while Button Mash and I just stare up and admire the clouds until he ruins the moment by pulling out some kind of portable video game console.

I give a dreamy sigh as my eyelids sink halfway in drunken pleasure.

Even the not-so-good moments are still something that I look forward to because they'll all be part of the moment. They'll be part of what reassures me that all of these experiences are utterly real. Arguments are also all part of the experience. That's how I'll know I've finally become a big pony.

Despite all that, I know, deep down, that he'll always make me feel like a fairytale princess. Saving me from a locked tower and fighting off an evil dragon if he has to is all part of the experience. When I see him do that, I'll not only see that he's powerful enough to protect me from potentially anything, but he's well motivated to do so. He'll do it all for me. For me!! If he's willing to fight and defeat a dragon just to save me, then he's certainly willing to carry me as we gallop off into the sunset. Whatever makes me happy, so shall he do for me. I, in turn, will do the same for him.

I do not realize how bored I am until my face slams into the table. In the process, I hit my horn on the table. I don't do it too hard, but it still makes my horn throb painfully afterwards.

“Ow!” I complain out loud as I rub the side of my horn a bit in the hopes to dull the pain in a hurry. Doing so slows the rush of blood around the appendage which is otherwise mostly cartilage. Still, I can feel the throb pump all throughout my head and midway down my neck.

“Owie!” I moan sadly within a tight wince. I just keep wishing, at this moment, for the pain to fade away already. It's all I can think about until it does.

When I finally mostly recover, I gaze out the window and frown when I notice how dark it is outside. Most of the pony traffic out there is gone. The new thing that is replaced out there is an intermittent glow from several lamp posts.

Pony feathers! What's taking Button Mash so long? I finished my milkshake long ago.

I growl irritably. Did he really stand me up? He seemed to be looking forward to this so much. I thought he was adorable how nervous he sounded when he asked me out. I was also touched because, if that moment indeed took that much courage for him to say, then it also indicates how motivated he was to go out on a date with me. I felt special because of that. I felt like a girl he valued. I love that feeling!

But now, after this long, my insecurities are creeping back. Did he change his mind? Did he find me ugly after all? Did he find another pony more pretty than me? Was he unable to secure funds for this date then grew too embarrassed to show up because of it?

If the latter is true, I'd be upset with him. I'd rather he be honest with me by revealing his weaknesses rather than stand me up and leave me worried in the dark.

But then I recall something that puts this situation in an alarming perspective. I finally remembered the fact that Button Mash was not at school today either. I remember because I was looking for him. I was looking forward to this evening with him. I had hoped to catch him blushing and waving at me, but instead, he was not there today at all. I keenly remembered how disappointed I was with that fact.

But, over the course of my busy day with the rest of the Crusaders, I gradually forgot about that fact.

Until now.

So . . . he didn't show up for school either? What if the same reason he stood me up now is the same reason he didn't show up for school earlier?

My goodness! What if he's hurt?!

Now I feel anxious and, this time, I know I won't be able to calm down until I get my answers.

So, without further delay, I gallop out of the shop and make my way to my coltfriend's home.

I rush through Button Mash's modest neighborhood and approach his home. Once there, I knock frantically on the door. While I wait, I contemplate if I'm being too forceful. If Button's circumstances are average, I might come off as overbearing right now.

But pony feathers, I can't help it! I am concerned right now.

“Coming,” I hear Button's mom, Cream Heart, approach the door. “Just hold your horses.”

I realize that she doesn't sound too concerned. Her voice and general attitude sounds nowhere like a grieving mother, so the worst-case scenario is already almost entirely wiped off the table. That's a relief to know, but I still want absolute confirmation.

I hear the door unlatch then swing open. At first Cream Heart's gaze views above me before looking more downward and spotting me. When she does, she says, “Oh! Sweetie Belle! What a surprise. I wasn't expecting you tonight.” When she says that, something dawns on her. “Isn't it a little late for a little lady like you to travel all by yourself?”

“Where's Button?!” I ask a bit frantically. “Is he okay?”

“Uh, well . . .” Cream adopts a quizzical look as she tries to figure something out. She gains an “ah-ha” look when she realizes something. “Is this about his absence from school today? If so, I'm touched that you care for him to notice.”

“Well,” I blush shyly as I look down and off to my right a bit, “he was also going to treat me out on a dinner date tonight.”

“Ooo! How scandalous!” Cream says in a wickedly amused tone. “My precious little boy is growing up!”

“Cream, please answer my question,” I beg of her.

As per my request, Cream suddenly adopts a mostly serious expression, but there is also a fond glint in her eyes when she gazes upon me.

“To answer your question, no. My little boy is not doing so well right now,” Cream Heart answers.

My ears fall in disappointment as I ask, “Oh really? Gee . . . I hope he gets okay soon. Any idea what's wrong with him?”

“Common cold, I think,” she answers. “He's sneezing, coughing, and feverish.” Her gaze grows dull. “Since I dismissed him from class today due to his condition, he actually celebrated some by playing more of his video games.” Her look returns to a fond look. “But eh . . . I'll let it slide for today.” She focuses back on me. “Thank you for your concern. I'm sure he'll be right as rain in a few days.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” I offer.

She smiles widely at me as she says, “Why Sweetie, you are such a sweetheart! Thank you for offering, but I think we're good.”

“You sure?” I double-check. “Anything at all I can do to help?”

“Eh.” Cream gives the question further thought since I insisted, then she says, “I can think of one thing. Can you bring back his homework for today and tomorrow's assignment tomorrow?”

“Oh wow. Trying to paint me as the bad pony, eh?” I ask with a grin. “I'm sure he'd love that.”

“It's the responsible thing to do,” Cream clarifies. “If you're going to be his fillyfriend, perhaps even wife someday, you're going to have to learn that it requires a lot of responsibilities. I'm sure my boy can be very romantic in his own special little way, but I'm warning you that he's high maintenance, too, and at least one of you needs to be the responsible adult.” I see respect grow in Cream's eyes towards me. “And, based on all the rumors I hear about you, you sound like a very responsible young lady. Practically running your own business already.”

“I am running a business along with my friends,” I correct. “And I enjoy doing it.”

“I'm sure you do,” Cream agrees as she gives me an affectionate pat on the head, then reminds me, “So . . . about that homework?”

“Sure,” I accept with a bit of a sigh. “I can ask Miss Cheerilee tomorrow for his homework assignments and bring them on over. I'm sure our teacher would appreciate the favor as well, and I just love helping her out.”

Her fond smile returns to her face as she says, “As I said, you're such a sweetheart.

“In the meantime, I can't invite you in and let you catch what he's got. In fact, I shouldn't be talking to you for long either just in case I've caught what he has, but I rather suspect it's the other way around.” She looks outward beyond the door. “But he could have picked it up from school or putting a bunch of weird things in his mouth without paying attention.”

“Well,” I shrug lightly, “earth ponies put stuff in their mouths all the time. That's how they write.”

“True, we do,” Cream agrees with a more blank expression. “I'm going to assume that wasn't meant to be a taunt.”

“Oh no!” I cry out in alarm. “Certainly not, Madam. I, myself, used to write stuff with my mouth too for many years before I used my horn.” I shift my eyes sharply to my side as I add, “For the most part, I don't think I caught a cold often that way.”

Cream shrugs as she says, “It's just a natural part of life. However it happens, we can't avoid it so it's not worth making a big deal out of it. However, to avoid expanding the risk, I'm going to have to go now. No sense not trying some reasonable precautions.”

“Okay,” I accept as my ears fall flat again. “Thanks, Miss Cream Heart, for answering my questions. I just had to know.”

“You're very welcome, Sweetie Belle. It is nice seeing you again. I'm sorry that my boy, Button, couldn't join you on your . . .” she pauses as she snickers for a moment, then resumes, “little date tonight,” she finishes as if that sentence is so adorable to her, but then she grows serious again. “But I can't let him out while he's not feeling better. If it's any consolation, he should be back on his hooves soon, and I will see to that to the best of my ability.”

My ears lift again as I say with a soft smile, “I'm sure you will, Missus Heart.

“Anyway,” I wave at her, “good night.”

Cream Heart starts to close the door as I back off, but I hesitate when she does. I look back at her just in case she has something to add. By the looks of her, I'm glad I checked.

“Oh, Sweetie Belle?”

“Yes, Missus Heart?” I ask eagerly.

“There is one more thing I can think of that would be very helpful to me and my boy.”

“Anything! Just name it!”

Cream focuses on me while leaning on the partially shut door as she asks, “Could you go to the library at Starlight's Castle? There, find a book that has home remedies for the common cold. There are several I can think of off the top of my head, but others I want to confirm.”

“Sure thing, Missus Heart!” I tell her so eagerly that I actually bounce on my hooves once in a way reminiscent of Pinkie Pie.

“Thank you. You are such a sweet and responsible young lady,” Cream says to me in appreciation. “I would go myself but-”

“You want to stay by your son's side,” I finish for her. “Plus, you don't want to run the risk of spreading this to anypony else.”

Cream nods a bit as she says, “So you see my dilemma.”

“I sure do,” I agree with a nod. “I'll go there right away and bring back the book you seek.”

“Okay, but you be careful out there yourself, Sweetie Belle,” Cream requests with a note of concern. “You shouldn't be wandering too much at night at your age.”

“Well, if it gets too dark, I can use my horn to give me light,” I propose as a means to help console her.

“And Ponyville is generally not too dangerous,” Cream figures as she looks outward again, then returns her look to me. “But that said, it's been attacked by bugbears, giant black vines with thorns, an ursa minor, Cerberus from Tartarus, Tirek, the Lord of Chaos . . .”

“Yeah-yeah-yeah. I get your point,” I tell her with a dismissive wave. “Don't worry. I'll be careful.”

Cream leans further into her partially shut door as she says, “I just don't want anything to happen to my future daughter-in-law, and I must add that I'm looking forward to that day.”

“We're not there yet,” I say as I back off with a renewed blush, “but, for what it's worth, I'm looking forward to that day, too.

“In the meantime, bye. I'll return with the book soon.”

“Thank you,” Cream says one final time before shutting the door.

I turn around and almost gallop away until I finally hear Button Mash himself within the home. I pause for a moment as I steer my left ear back at the home behind me. Doing so allows me to hear him ask his mother in his adorably nasally voice, “Mom, was that Sweetie Belle?”

I note a slight croak in his voice too. That isn't normal for him. He must have gotten up from bed recently. His coughing and sneezing may have altered his voice a bit.

Nevertheless, I smile fondly. It's good to hear his voice at least once tonight, but I have to go. After all, my new quest might aid in his swifter recovery later.

I gallop off into the night towards the centerpiece of Ponyville and a national monument of Equestria, a giant purple glowing crystal/tree castle.

Author's Note

This is close to the end of the first day of Sweetie's life in this story. Maybe now you'll start to feel the tension rise again as it's building up to something but also while staying in character.

Chapter 14: About Changelings ...

“So this is your room,” Ocellus notes with some fascination as she beholds my room at Rarity's place. “The bed looks comfy. Seems like it's far bigger than you need considering your original size.”

“Correction . . . this is my room at my sister Rarity's place. I have another room with my parents,” I correct. “And yes, that bed is very comfy. I would even say it's more comfy than the bed at my parents’ place, but I'm also more accustomed to the other one. As for this one, well . . . let's just say my sister has very high standards.” I smirk at the bed in question before adding, “Believe it or not, that bed is a hoof-me-down.” I laugh a little before saying, “I've jumped on both beds enough to realize that both of them are almost equally comfortable but, according to my sister, this one is a little tackier compared to the one she replaced her bed with. I dare you to spot why.”

Ocellus looks at me as she shakes her head before saying, “Oh no. I refuse that challenge. First of all, I haven't had a good look at your other bed before or the one she replaced this one with. Secondly, even if I did see them, I'm sure I don't have a keen eye for detail like your sister does.”

I roll my eyes as I say, “I doubt anypony does.” I look at her. “Or any creature, for that matter.”

Then it occurs to me to wonder what I must have looked like to roll my eyes with these blank bug-like eyes of mine that must seem so expressionless, but I'd trust a true changeling to spot the difference better than most other species would.

A bit reluctantly, I pull my gaze to the vanity mirror in this room because of course it would have one.

As I gaze at myself in the mirror I realize that, deep down, I didn't want to confirm my reality, but this is the first time I get a good look at myself.

What I see is what I expect the most. I've seen evil changelings before. They do look very scary, but my memory also informs me they look downright identical. It's almost as if they are Mirror Pool clones. Considering the fact they can change their shape at will, maybe that was deliberate. Maybe they wanted to look indistinguishable, or maybe Queen Chrysalis commanded them to and they, more or less, reluctantly obeyed.

This particular changeling I see in the mirror is no exception. He looks like an exact carbon copy of every other evil changeling I've ever seen. I can't even distinguish his gender until he speaks.

Speaking of gender, that issue still really bothers me, but this also reminds me of an issue I mused earlier. Do changelings even have any true gender? It seems like it could be a very ambiguous issue to a species that can transform into anyone or anything they wish at will. Maybe gender to them is simply what mood they happen to be in from moment to moment. Kind of like choosing a set of clothes to present themselves with today. Pure whim might have much to do with this, but if that's true, how exactly do changelings reproduce?

“That's a good question,” I muse to myself aloud.

“What is?” Ocellus asks me as she sits on the floor and absently rubs the carpet with a forehoof.

I look at Ocellus as I elaborate, “Changeling gender. The fact that I seem to be male in this form bothers me, but it's also caused me to wonder something. Do changelings even have a true gender? It seems like a very ambiguous issue to me for a species that can transform to whatever they want at will. So . . . what's the answer? Am I really a guy or girl or not? Does it matter? Am I technically gender-neutral? And, for that matter, just how do changelings reproduce?”

I notice how Ocellus attempts to process her answer to each question. I also notice how she winces in discomfort with the last question. For some reason, I struck a nerve with that one. Apparently that is an uncomfortable subject, so I prompt, “What?” After I ask, I privately hope my curiosity isn't coming off as rude to her.

“I can see why you'd ask,” she acknowledges. “I can see why you'd be both curious and concerned . . . and frustrated.

“Across this day, ever since Headmare Starlight informed me of your situation, I tried to imagine how I would feel if our circumstances were reversed. That I'd be stuck as a pony rather than you being stuck as a changeling. Between the two, it seems to me the scenario I'd suffer might be worse because at least you could change your form into whatever you want as soon as you learn how.” Ocellus looks down. “But, as a pony, I'd be stuck in one form. That feels very limiting to imagine. It feels like a picture that lacks color. It feels like a lack of substance. So little freedom to simply be whatever I want to be.”

She looks out the window with a musing expression.

“And yet I often envied pony life for other reasons. Physical limitations notwithstanding, it also means I would have been born and raised in a society like this one.” She nods outside to indicate the outside town. “In that case, I often asked myself that, if I had to choose, which kind of pony would I wish I could be?”

After a bit of a pause, I curiously press, “And? Have you come up with an answer yet?”

“I believe I have,” she says as she looks back at me. “Given the choice, I think I'd prefer to be an earth pony.”

“Really?” I ask. “Why? That seems like the opposite of what you are. Changelings are kind of like alicorns in their base form.”

“Exactly,” Ocellus answers. “Therefore it would guarantee a new experience. In this case, I'd look forward to the simplicity of it just so I could find out how much I can work with it. How much I could build up from that standpoint. The determination of my fate wouldn't be based on how fast or high I could fly or how complex of a spell I can cast. Instead, it would be based on how much I can do with the bare minimum. I think that would be an interesting challenge.”

“Challenge?” I echo, then shake my head. “I barely agree with that. I look at ponies like Applejack or Apple Bloom and I don't see ponies who are hooficapped. Instead, I see ponies who are better at different things.”

Ocellus shakes her head as she says, “Oh, I totally agree, but I think they work with a simpler baseline compared to the other tribes. From there, I think I'd have a better launching point to absorb,” she waves to her chest with both hooves as if gathering something, “the true essence of Equestrian life in it's most fundamental form. You see, right now I am struggling to understand pony life, but it is very fascinating. I feel like I'm learning a lot just by being here, yet part of me always feels like an outsider.” She lowers her hooves back to her lap as she lightly shakes her head. “I fear that I'll never completely shake that feeling.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” I argue. “Being foreign to our culture just makes you more unique and adept at something else. That's a great thing. Those who see life from a different perspective have something valuable to offer us. We, in turn, have something valuable to offer back to you.”

Ocellus tilts her head as she asks, “Even if that thing we offer is sucking out the joy in other ponies?”

“Um, well . . .” I say uncomfortably.

“It's okay. I know what I was,” Ocellus replies. “Right now I'm still trying to figure out what I've become since then.” She nods her head to indicate the mirror as she says, “That image you see of yourself in the mirror . . . I used to have to live with that most of my life except I had a different eye color and I used to be shorter.”

Eye color! Oh yeah!

I look back at myself in the mirror while realizing I overlooked that detail earlier. Evil changelings did still have that distinction at least, but still . . . if I were in their hive, I'd still have a hard time telling them apart. Maybe Rarity could do it, but not me.

“To answer your question,” Ocellus prompts which draws my attention back to her, “I guess you could say we don't have a true gender, and it is true that we can change our forms into anything we want, including other forms of changelings. That said, we do have a true form. Our voice seems to be our biggest distinction of gender. The rest is just a mindset which matters more now than it did before. Prior to our reformation, we were all just faces in a crowd. We weren't meant to stand out, or better to say we weren't allowed to. A uniform form also meant a unified mind. A hive-mind, so to speak. It made us easier to control.”

She squints as she looks down in discomfort. She takes a deep breath as if to gather her courage before looking at me and says, “But to answer your last question involves informing you of an issue that is far more sensitive to my people. I will ask you to promise to keep this secret to yourself before I reveal it. The secret about our reproduction. Promise me, or I'll refuse to answer that question.”

I'm caught off-guard by how sensitive she's treating this issue. It also unnerves me but piques my curiosity just as much. How could I say no to that? Telling a foal there is a forbidden secret is the surest way to entice them to discover it.

But, if this is a sensitive issue, then I would keep the secret if only to be polite to a friend of mine. I dare not offend her.

“Okay,” I say as I nod sincerely. “I promise. I Pinkie promise.”

“Please keep it,” Ocellus begs, “for if this secret gets out, it would severely endanger my people.”

I feel even more startled to hear that, but I nod in agreement again. Now I have to know!

“Okay.” Ocellus pauses as she looks down for a moment. She takes that time to gather her courage, then says, “Okay,” she repeats. “Here goes.”

She looks at me then informs, “The truth is . . . none of us can reproduce. Queen Chrysalis was the only one who could.”

I gasp, startled.

“You see why we'd be sensitive to this issue, right?” Ocellus checks. “Right now my species is in danger of extinction in a few generations. If we can't find a new way to reproduce, we'll be wiped out in less than a century.” She looks down and to the right with a fearful squint. “That's actually yet another reason why Queen Chrysalis was in charge. We knew she was irreplaceable if we wanted our species to continue.” She looks back at me. “There are other reasons, too. She was the oldest of us. Older than the rest of us can live so she's quite likely immortal, or at least ageless.” She shakes her head at me. “This means she never needed to be replaced herself. The idea was for her to serve that role for all of eternity. Always the only mother we could possibly have. Always irreplaceable, and therefore always in charge.

“Behind the scenes, we are scrambling desperately to find an alternative so that new grubs will be born and continue our species. If we fail to do this, then we'll be wiped out as soon as our youngest grubs age to death or die by some other means.”

“Sweet Celestia!” I exclaim. “No wonder your species is so afraid of having that discovery known. If it were made public, it would reveal a gradual and impending doom that others might exploit along the way.”

Ocellus nods as she says, “Exactly, so you see why it's important for you to protect this secret. The security of my entire race depends on it. In fact, we're hoping to solve it before that secret ever gets discovered. That way we could reveal a former problem with impunity because, by then, it would be a moot point.”

I am reluctant to ask something, but I press on since it's so important to know. “But, um . . . what if you fail to discover an alternate means? Does that mean you'll resort to freeing Queen Chrysalis and maybe put her back in charge?”

Ocellus closes her eyes for a second as she shakes her head sadly. When her eyes open and her head steadies again, she admits, “No. If worse comes to worst, we'd rather die than be slaves to her again. Our existence was nothing but pure misery under her rule before. We were left starving all the time because she took the majority of the stolen energy our infiltrators gathered.

“We were also trapped in an existence of isolation, pain, anger, and bitter frustration. All of those reasons are why we hated other species before. We were taught it was us versus them. We were taught that no other species could understand our suffering and, even if they did, they'd only use that knowledge to exploit us. We were determined to be the exploiters just to protect ourselves from an even worse fate. We feared that, but we also hated that which we feared. All threats to the hive must be suppressed or eliminated, and no authority was greater than our all-mighty Queen.

“'Ponies are food, not friends,' was the old adage the hive used to say all the time. They are the outsiders. They are not one of us. They're forever doomed to be alien from us, so we must weaken them before they have a chance to weaken us.

“Our suffering united us, but only to a point. Greed was prevalent in our society too. The strong shall prosper and the weak shall perish. That did happen many, many times over as a reminder of why we must constantly struggle to survive. Queen Chrysalis kept pumping out more eggs than we had the ability to sustain. It left a firm message to all of us; we are replaceable. We are expendable. We are far less important than she is, so we must struggle with all of our might to survive. We must hate, cheat, lie and steal better than our brood mates. We were both united and divided. The Queen is always the number one priority. All others are secondary so survival is restricted to the strongest and most aggressive of us. We were misery incarnate.”

My mind is almost numb to hear this. Now I'm beginning to understand why pony culture is so foreign to her, but it left one question burning in my mind, so I ask it.

“If all you say is true, how did Thorax survive?” I check. “Spike once told me he used to be quite timid. By necessity, he's stronger now, but how could he survive a time when he was weaker back then?”

Ocellus looks out the window as she says, “That's simple to explain. Pharynx, his older brood mate, protected him.”

“But why?” I ask. “If your culture enforced every grub for themselves, why did Pharynx protect his brother?”

“That, I don't know,” Ocellus admits as she looks back at me. “He never admitted it himself either. Part of me is even uncertain if he knows the answer himself. He just did. The hive is grateful for it now but, back then, many were mystified why he did that. No changeling dared to cross him because he was one of our strongest, but still . . . he had a soft spot for his younger brother for some reason.”

I tilt my head as I ask, “You said 'he' and 'brother' in reference to Thorax and Pharynx. Does the hive generally use gender pronouns?”

“Yeah, but . . . well . . .” Ocellus pauses for a moment as she considers how best to answer that question, then shakes her head as she admits, “That's just the way we've always been. Maybe it's because of the behavior we've observed from other species which made us think adopting one gender or another is simply what we should do too. I can't explain why, but we naturally slip into one role or another over time.

“While I'm on the subject, I should add that both genders used to be more meaningless to us. Mere frivolous titles, but these days greater definition is gradually being assigned to each which is heavily influenced by the cultures we observe around us, though I would like to add that both roles are generally approached with considerably more fluidity than I think is normal for most other species.” She shrugs before adding, “We're changelings so we're accustomed to having a loose definition of our role in life. We are whatever we feel we are from moment to moment. We've always lived by that mentality but far more so in recent years.”

“So cool!” I say with wide eyes in deep fascination. “That makes me wish I was a changeling. It sounds so liberating.”

Ocellus squints at me as she says, “Well, for the moment, you are. That's the main reason I'm telling you all of this.”

I frown as I say, “Yeah, but I still don't know how to change my shape.”

Ocellus copies my frown slightly along with a light shrug as she says, “Those of us born as changelings find changing our shape as natural to us as breathing. I find it both strange and disturbing that you hissed due to changeling hunger yet your instincts and reflexes failed to discover our race’s most iconic ability.

“Then again, you were transformed into a member of our race, perhaps temporarily. It's hard to say what the rules are under circumstances like this.”

“Maybe, if we can discover how this happened, we could use that knowledge to preserve your species?” I suggest a little timidly. “After all, another way to supplement your population is for others, like mine, to transform into changelings too.”

“Maybe,” Ocellus says a little lamely. “Right now we don't exactly know how this happened to you. I say nothing is really discovered yet until we establish that first.

“Even if we do find an answer, is it morally wrong to offer a transformation into our species if it means sort of stealing it from another?”

“I don't think so,” I reply. “As long as the transformation was offered with very clear consent, I think the action is morally justified. In that case, it's simply an extra option in life. Quite a number of individuals from many species might jump at that chance if it was somehow offered.”

“What about you?” Ocellus reflects. “Would you accept this opportunity permanently if you had a choice?”

I wince as I say, “Well, maybe, but . . . giving up my ability to have foals of my own is a very tough call. I grew up a great deal in my life with that idea firmly and excitedly implanted in my mind. It's not something I want yet, but someday . . . I think the urge would hit me very hard.” I shake my head. “Until then, I'd forever be curious what it's like.” I shrug. “I know it's not the only option in my life and I suppose I could live without it. Right now it's just in the back of my mind. I don't think about it too often but it's always there. Every time I think about my ability to have foals, the word that is always associated along with it so far is; someday.”

I look up as I say, “The biggest draw for me towards that potential aspect of my life comes to me when I consider my own parents.” I look back at her. “I often see such joy in their eyes when they behold me and, even today, I always spotted their love. Even when it's hidden behind suspicion, bitterness, and fear, I know the source of all those emotions is love. The more I see and feel that love, the more I'm convinced that something is missing from my life if I never experience it myself.”

I'm spacey for a moment, but then I focus on Ocellus as I ask a question that I've been wondering about changelings for years. “I hope you don't mind me asking, but have you changelings always lived your lives hiding among other societies like ours?”

Ocellus shakes her head as she answers, “No. Just the opposite.

“If and when you do discover any one of us hiding among you, which probably is a rare occurrence based on what I've been told in the past, you might be tempted to think that we're always hiding behind every nook and cranny, but the truth is far from that. Instead of that, the vast majority of our species never left the hive. Most of us are always there. We're training, we're waiting for our food supply from the infiltrators, and we're fulfilling our duties to the Queen until Thorax became in charge.

“Of those who do infiltrate your society, or any other for that matter, they are highly trained operatives who passed a long series of grueling tests. They were tested to change shape at the greatest speed and accuracy. They were trained to simulate the personalities of other would-be victims. They were trained in how to hide themselves or what to do in case of discovery. Most importantly, they are trained how to absorb a vast amount of energy so that they return to the hive and get drained of it themselves. A majority of that energy is reserved for the Queen until she has her fill. The rest spreads to the hive and, of us, those who proved the strongest and most loyal get first dibs. If there is not enough to go around, the least of us may be doomed to starve to death.”

At first I look upon her with horror. Moments later my expression sinks to mortified sympathy.

Ocellus applies a hoof to her lips as she muses, “In hindsight, I keep thinking that the number of infiltrators was kept to a minimum so that the weakest of us would starve deliberately. They claimed, at the time, that we couldn't have too many field operatives out there or else it would risk discovery so we only sent the best of the best.” She lowers her hoof. “However, I can see, now, how an environment of natural strife benefits an evil Queen like Chrysalis. She kept us suppressed so that we'd never find the courage or conviction to revolt. We were too distracted with our own problems to consider how things could have been done better. She controlled the flow of knowledge, too. Those of us left stuck in the hive, which was the vast majority of us, never had the chance to learn anything beyond what she taught us.

“As for the infiltrators, they were heavily conditioned during their training. They were taught that any act they summon is just that; an act. They were taught never to think beyond those levels. They were taught never to truly understand or assimilate into the society they hid in. They were taught always to feel like an outsider even while pretending to fit in. Most importantly, they were taught that those who betray the hive would relentlessly be hunted down.”

Ocellus waves a dismissive hoof as she goes on to say, “Thorax was exempt from that dogmatic rule, until he later returned to the hive of his own accord, because he wasn't a true infiltrator. Instead, he was merely an invader, and a particularly young one at that.” She looks at me. “Had he been a true and fully trained infiltrator that abandoned his post, the hive would have spared no effort to hunt him down with determination because infiltrators are exposed to the hives’ greatest secrets, but Thorax was considered an annoying but non-consequential traitor that wasn't worth pursuing.

“And, as you well know, the changelings didn't bother with hiding themselves much during the Canterlot invasion so it was all hooves on deck during that invasion. That included all non-infiltrators which, for the majority of us, was our first true taste of exploring the outside world. That certainly was the case for Thorax, but he chose to go missing in action at the conclusion of that failed attempt.”

“Were you there?” I had to ask because I was there. Now I'm wondering if I secretly encountered Ocellus before until I see her shaking her head.

“No. I was too young at the time. Even Thorax barely qualified as old enough for the invasion. I, on the other hoof, was left back at the hive too, quote/unquote, 'guard' it, but I know the truth by now. That was just an excuse to get us out of the way. The truth was we weren't old enough to be considered useful yet.”

Ocellus sighs, then says, “Also, in hindsight, I have a suspicion that's why Thorax chose me for this assignment to study friendship in this town and to study pony society, but this time with a much more open mind. I'm old enough to be mostly independent, but also young enough to be impressionable and I'd probably not be perceived as a threat.” She shrugs. “I was too shy for that, but he also saw me as a gifted student. I love to learn and I'm good at it.

“Oh, and here's another secret, although this one isn't as critical. Right now Thorax is sending me alone as a test but on the condition that I mostly keep to my own true form. He is trying to introduce me to other societies, like this one, to see how ponies react. In the process, he is trying to ascertain how much time and effort will be required before the citizens of Equestria are willing to completely accept us for who we are in our natural forms. Thorax doesn't want us to hide behind secrets and lies anymore. He wants us to simply be as we naturally are. No gimmicks. No tricks. Nothing but the genuine article. His hope is that we can eventually trot down busy streets like Whinnyappolis or Manehatten and no pony bats an eye at us. Or, even better, for pony citizens to willingly give us a friendly wave hi because, as you know by now, our survival still depends on positive social connections. We might not steal positive emotions anymore, but we still need to be surrounded by them.

“This also means, among other hidden weaknesses of our race, that being a hermit is an option forever barred to us. We simply cannot survive on our own without any genuine affection in our lives.

“Based on the results I gather, Thorax plans to use that information to influence his future decisions regarding our relationship with other races. He wants us to be more open and invited, but he's also aware that our troubled history means he has to approach this cautiously. There is a lot of suspicion and distrust for both sides to recover from.

“So far my reception has been largely positive, but it is likely because of the precautions we implemented. Had we applied a stronger and more heavy-hooved tactic, it is likely we'd have suffered a darker reception and impeded harmonious growth with others in the long run. Since our survival depends on the relationships we forge, we have to be very careful how we hoofle this.”

Wow! I am learning a lot tonight. Now, all of a sudden, I regret not having my diary on hoof.

Although, on second thought, I've been privy to many critical secrets about changelings tonight. Perhaps sharing this info in any way, including to an inanimate object, might not be the best option.

This is a lot to process, especially considering everything else I've experienced today.

A knock on my door draws both of our attention to it. From beyond the door, my sister calls, “Dinner will be ready in a few minutes, girls. Be prepared to join me in a moment. After that, I'll need you two to prepare for a bath then it's off to bed shortly thereafter.”

I smile both inwardly and outwardly when I hear my sister refer to both of us as “girls”. Being a plural word, it naturally includes me.

I take a moment to marvel at how good that feels. That, in turn, draws me to the conclusion of how natural it feels. Because of that, I still know who I am deep inside.

Aside from that, it seems to me, based on what Ocellus has been telling me, changelings might have a loose definition for their gender anyway. It seems to all come down to personal taste and preference except for Queen Chrysalis. She's the only one to absolutely be confirmed to be a woman, or she has characteristics of both sexes at the most while the rest of her hive technically has neither.

Huh. I wonder if changelings can reproduce while being disguised as other races. If they could, would they breed as changelings or the other race they disguised themselves as?

Well, I can't take too long to muse this for now. I have to get ready to go.

Author's Note

While almost certainly not the only potential interpretation of the changeling species, I had to settle for an in-story canon for this chapter because Sweetie Belle had every opportunity and incentive to ask someone who would know the answer to most of her questions in this chapter. Now it is the lore and the baseline to explain both past and future events within this story. That, in turn, is a launching point for other events yet to come.

I've been looking forward to public opinion about this chapter if willingly offered. As a side note, this chapter is being posted the day before Halloween. I wish it was more thematically appropriate for the season. This story does have a horror theme on occasion which will rear its head in later chapters, but by then it will be too late for this season. Oh well. At least it has a semi-dark theme, but it is mostly a recap explanation of how bad things were for Ocellus's species. That, in turn, also helps to highlight how much things have improved since then and why.

Chapter 36: Interview with a Changeling

“There you are!” I hear Sunburst exclaim in relief. I turn my head in order to look at him. By then, I already start to notice my new environment. Judging from the crystal walls I see around me which are notably not purple, I realize that I've been relocated somewhere within the Crystal Empire.

Another thing I notice, which is indeed very notable, is the fact that there are no doors or windows to this room. In other words, there doesn’t appear to be any natural way to enter or leave this room. This means teleporting in and out is absolutely required, and that can only be done by somepony who’s somehow been to this place before.

“I was beginning to worry,” Sunburst also says as he trots over to us. “Did you . . . ah . . . have any unforeseen complications?”

“If you're asking me if this is the real Sweetie Belle, we'll soon find out,” Starlight informs her foalhood friend. “I do know that I was able to get to her before Twilight's guards did.”

Sunburst frowns as he looks down before saying, “I hate this! Sneaking around behind the backs of other ponies we should be trusting, but our current situation makes that impossible!”

He sighs before he looks back up at us as he floats his glasses further up his muzzle again then goes on to say, “But Princess Cadence and her husband, Shining Armor, had plenty of reasons to step up security against changelings over the years. Thanks to Thorax, they even got a little extra education on how to hoofle them, and we can trust somepony like Shining to take matters of security seriously.” He looks straight at me as he informs, “Oh, and just in case it hasn't become clear to you, we've relocated you to the Crystal Empire.”

“I've gathered that much,” I mention back.

“But you'll notice there are no windows or doors here either,” Starlight puts forth as she waves a hoof through the room. “Even the furniture is sparse. The only way in or out of this room is to teleport, and even then, certain security measures are in place.”

“I'll take your word for it,” I say back to Starlight. “So where is the table?”

Starlight blinks at me as she asks, “What table?”

Sunburst looks at and informs Starlight, “She is obviously referring to the Friendship Cutie Map,” Sunburst says in such a way that also seems to hint, “She probably doesn't know.”

“Oh. That,” Starlight laments. “Yeah. The Friendship table . . . it's now missing.”

“That actually happened a few weeks ago,” Sunburst adds. “Apparently our culprit has something to hide and somehow knows that the Cutie Map can be a threat to him.”

“And we're obviously dealing with more than one changeling,” Starlight informs. “This is a group of changelings that are highly trained and highly coordinated. As far as I can tell, there is only one possible explanation for this.”

“The Mirror Pool,” Sunburst finishes Starlight's thought. These two seem content to go back and forth between them.

Starlight shakes her head as she says, “Normally I'd think that's impossible. I set up traps that would alert me if anyone entered the Mirror Pool cave because I've foreseen a potential problem like this, but the sheer ease in which the changeling within you disabled Twilight's lock suggests to me that this changeling probably has no trouble disabling my traps either.”

“Though it's always possible that there is another substance out there in the world that's like the Mirror Pool,” Sunburst puts in. “Perhaps something that modern society still hasn't discovered or re-discovered yet.”

“I even wrote Daring Do a letter about that,” says Starlight before she winces in concern. “But so far I haven't heard back from her about that.”

Sunburst rhythmically strokes the long orange goatee on the tip of his chin as he mentions aloud, “I've made a few discreet inquiries about her health lately, or rather to say, Rainbow Dash has. In response, Rainbow has alarmingly replied that Daring does indeed appear to be missing.” Sunburst shrugs as he says, “But the exact specifics of her fate is still unknown. Maybe the hostile changeling targeted her or maybe she noticed something amiss and has gone underground on her own. We can only hope for the best for her.”

“In the meantime, we need all the information we can get,” Starlight informs me. “I know it's risky, but we need to have another interview with the hidden changeling within you.”

Yeah. That's pretty much what I expected, but I feign a shocked and horrified reaction as I remind her, “But remember what happened to you, Ocellus, and Twilight the last time that happened? He's dangerous! And why would you trust anything he has to say anyway?”

“But we've taken a few extra precautions this time,” Sunburst points out. “For instance, as Starlight mentioned earlier, there is no way out of this room without teleporting, and even that method will fail if we don't disable the trap.”

“Trap?” I ask him.

Sunburst smiles smugly as he informs me, “Let's just say that we've learned a few old tricks from King Sombra since last we met him. I am a veritable scholar, after all, and Starlight is very good at finding and patching together old spells.”

“Huh?” I tilt my head at him. “What does all of that mean?”

“It means we're convinced we have enough security measures in place this time,” Starlight assures me. “The changeling within you will undoubtedly realize that as well. He'll soon recognize the fact that he has to get through us to get out of here, and we have conditions.”

“And Starlight is a really good negotiator,” Sunburst adds proudly. “If there is anypony who can get through to him, it's her and/or Twilight.”

“I've learned from the best,” Starlight says with a bit of a blush.

“But . . . what about the two of you?” I ask with feigned worry. “I'm not going to do this if it puts your lives in serious danger.”

“Trust me. I'm much more prepared to defend myself this time,” Starlight assures me. “For instance, you'll notice my horn is all better. With full command of my magic, he'll find I'm not as much of a pushover this time.”

“Um . . . maybe he can shapeshift into something that can burrow through the crystal?” I check.

“I doubt it,” Sunburst says as he looks at the walls around us. “Even if he can assume a form with claws tough enough to burrow through that crystal, he'd be unwise to. We have a few extra surprises for him just in case he tries that.”

“This seems like an unusually thorough setup here,” I realize aloud. “You did all of this just because of the changeling within me?”

“No. We did this for our friends and to restore harmony to Equestria,” Starlight informs me firmly. “Don't ask me how far I'd go to protect the ones I care about. Trust me . . . you really don't want to know.”

“Ditto,” Sunburst concurs. “I may not be as magically gifted as my friend Starlight here, but it is not wise to underestimate me if those I . . . No. If those we care about are at stake.”

“And when we work together, we're an unstoppable team!” Starlight gushes proudly.

“Go Sires Hallow team, I guess,” Sunburst cheers a little shyly as he offer Starlight a hoofbump which she gladly accepts.

I sigh as worry lingers on my face. I look down for a moment before looking up at Starlight and asking her, “And it's just the three of us in here?”

Starlight nods as she says, “Precisely. I figured we'd start with a small group for now and build our information from here.”

“I trust Starlight with my life,” Sunburst assures. “There's no pony I'd rather be with if there's a crisis situation going on.”

“Does Princess Cadence and Shining Armor know we're here?” I check.

For the first time, Sunburst and Starlight hesitate to answer. They even glance at each other for a silent moment as if non-verbally deciding something, but I can tell that they are putting on an act. They had already decided what to say before I even asked and I think I know why.

“We'd prefer to keep the answer to that question to ourselves for now,” Sunburst informs me, the first between us to break the silence. “I say that because anything we inform you also tips off the changeling within you, and we'd prefer for him to be unaware of that fact.”

Thought so.

“But you did say security measures are in place,” I remind the two. “I think that also means you were careful of whom you informed. You knew you couldn't just talk to anypony or it would risk discovery by one of the enemy changelings.”

“Right now, there's no way to tell how far these infiltrators have spread,” Starlight admits with a worried expression for a moment but it soon firms back up as she goes on to say, “That's why we're here. To get some idea. We need at least one hoof hold before we can fully restore our balance.”

I look down as I ask, “So I take it you need to hypnotize me again?”

Starlight gently applies a hoof to my shoulder to comfort me as she tells me, “Yes, Sweetie Belle. I do. Believe me, I wouldn't be involving you if the situation wasn't so desperate. What happened between us at the Friendship Table might have been a fortunate accident after all because it grants us an opportunity we'd otherwise have been denied. I think the original changeling has been cut off from controlling you now and I think the changeling within you knows that.

“But we're not going to force you into anything, Sweetie Belle,” Starlight assures me. “Truthfully, we can't. Hypnosis requires the consent of the subject.”

Starlight lifts a hoof as she clears her throat for a moment before returning her hoof to the ground as she goes on to say, “That said, you surely have some idea what's at stake here too. How far would you be willing to go to protect the ones you love? Is there any line you wouldn't cross if you absolutely had to in order to protect your friends and family? And surely you can see that they might be in grave danger right now. We have to work together towards a common solution before it's too late.”

“Yeah,” I agree as I lower my ears and sag my shoulders. “You're right. As usual, adult ponies always seem to know what's best.”

“Well . . . I don't know about always,” Sunburst says with doubt.

“I'm not going to let him hurt you either, Sweetie Belle,” Starlight promises me. “That's a promise I told your parents too, and I fully meant it.”

I smile up at Starlight and, this time, it's a genuine smile. While I do that, I say to her gratefully, “I know you will, Starlight.”

Sunburst clears his throat in such a way that it's apparent he's gathering attention. Once he has it, he suggests, “We should get started. Time is of the essence.”

I pretend to be reluctantly cooperative.

Now this has been a while. I feel that floating and falling sensation like I did last time. It feels somewhat similar to going to sleep normally except I'm more aware as I go down.

Truthfully, part of me is actually hoping this will work. Raven hasn't spoken to me for quite some time, but it's apparent to me now that things are coming to a head. If he doesn't choose to talk to them, then I hope he'll at least talk to me. I could use his advice.

“Hello, Raven. I'm here,” I call out into the dark void around me. When I do, my voice seems to echo around me. “Talk to me! I know you can.”

The only response I seem to get is to merely feel his presence, but he does not otherwise reply.

“Why hold your silence now? Where's the advantage in that?” I challenge him. “They are trying to interview you right now. They are not the only ones who need information. So do we.”

Still no reply, but I continue to feel his presence around me. I strongly suspect that it means he heard me. He's just choosing not to respond.

“You don't have to tell them the truth,” I compromise. “You don't even have to tell me the truth. Just say something! We need to fish for information and you know it.”

Still no reply. I hate it when he gets like this.

“I think you know, just as I do, that one or both of them might be compromised,” I say out to the echoing darkness around me. “Yet he has to be working through the real Sunburst and Starlight at some level. The spells Starlight cast recently really isn't easy to replicate. Doesn't he need the original host of their bodies to cast the spells he doesn't know? Only by working through their true minds can he somewhat command their full capabilities.”

The silence around me continues other than my own echoes.

“This is a game of Cat and Mouse, isn't it? Both sides are testing to see what the other knows. Now I've understood you better lately, but I can't speak for you as well as you can.”

For the first time, there is a little more of a response. He still doesn't talk to me, but I feel a cold hoof gently apply some pressure onto my shoulder, or rather I should say my virtual representation of a shoulder in this dream-like reality. The kind of pressure he applies to my shoulder gives a very tactile, body language response. From what I can tell, it is both a gesture of comfort and reassurance. It also seems to try to communicate confidence. It's as if he's arguing with me by sort of saying, “Yes, you can imitate me.”

“Is that what you really want me to do?” I ask with uncertainty. “Pretend to be you?”

I still feel his hoof on my shoulder but he gradually applies less pressure. It's as if he's saying, “I said my piece. I won't repeat myself.”

I sigh then look up as I say with some resolve, “Okay.”

All of my life, all I have ever done was to be myself. Even while I was acting. Even while I was pretending to be somepony else, I did it in pursuit of my cutie mark because that is who I am. I'm a trier. I am a doer. Whatever I say and whatever I do, I've always done it as Sweetie Belle because that is who I am. I love who I am. I am proud to be myself.

But desperate times do call for desperate measures. Starlight really did make many fine points, but the one that sticks to my heart the most is, “How far would you be willing to go to protect the ones you love?” The honest answer is any level, but I really have to be pushed to extremes in order to be willing to cross certain lines. If it really comes to that, I don't plan to make a habit out of it except for my willingness to do whatever it takes to protect those I love.

So, when I open my eyes again, I do it as him as much as I can muster. I summon that cold and focused depth into the pit of my eyes.

“Hello, Starlight,” I say in his voice by morphing my lungs into his original form. “Long time, no see.” I tilt my head coyly at her. “How is your horn?”

“Well enough,” Starlight assures tightly. “But I didn't bring you here to talk about that.”

“No. Of course not. We're here so you can exploit a potential advantage as much as you can. For that, I applaud you,” I commend Starlight.

“I take it you know everything I informed Sweetie Belle?” Starlight checks.

I give Starlight a very sinister and cunning smile as I promise her, “Oh yes, Starlight. In fact, I know far more than you do.”

“Which is why we're here,” Starlight brings up.

I notice that Sunburst has not said a word or made a move, so I peer at him sharply as I ask him, “What's the matter, puny sorcerer? Cat got your tongue? Or perhaps it is something worse.” I flash him an evil smile. “If not, I can ensure it.”

“No! You are talking to me!” Starlight demands.

“As you wish,” I say with a bored tone and expression towards Starlight. “It matters not to me. So play loud cop and silent cop if you wish. The end result is the same.”

“I agree,” Starlight concurs. “We're all down here, talking to each other. The only difference is we can get out of here and you can't.”

“And abandon your precious Sweetie Belle in the process?” I ask then give a tsk-tsk sound before I announce, “Your threats are meaningless, Starlight. You should learn to be more prepared.”

“Like your original self is?” Starlight questions. “Let's talk about him. I know he's using something like the Mirror Pool, yet I also know the Mirror Pool itself is clear. I checked it myself just recently.”

“Congratulations,” I say dryly. “Well done, Starlight. You've confirmed the fact that you're able to consider obvious facts.”

“It's even more clear to you,” Starlight reflects. “Have you ever thought about what it would be like if he completely succeeds? Sure, he may succeed in conquering Equestria, but he has to do it off the backs of slaves like you!”

“I'd watch your tone with me if I were you, Starlight,” I advise darkly. “You are speaking to a future ruler of your realm.”

“Really?” Starlight asks skeptically. “A future ruler? Can you really be so sure of that after what he's done to you all already? To that, I ask another question; why abandon a system that works?”

I sigh with aggravation before saying, “It always fascinates me how short-sighted you ponies can be. You who claim to be the masters of your world. You who govern things like the earth, the weather, and even celestial bodies like the sun and the moon. Oh, the sheer arrogance of it all.” I give Starlight a cunning and dark grin. “How you amuse me. I love it when your mind gets further and further off track. It only proves to me how much of an advantage I have.”

Something I have to keep in mind is Starlight is a psychologist too, or at least she has some experience in it not too long ago. She also has a very bright mind. Raven might look down on it, but I don't. I get the feeling that other villains underestimated her before, too, and even some heroes at one time or another.

I feel a little dirty pretending to be someone like Raven, but there is a small part of me that also finds it fun because Starlight is a worthy adversary in this game. Testing myself with her truly is pushing the limits of both of our potentials. In the end, that is actually very good practice.

“And what advantage do you truly have?” Starlight challenges. “Because, right now, all I see is your original self holding all the cards. The only reason you are free of his control is because of an accident resulting from an experiment of mine.”

“And how do you know I'm really free from his control?” I challenge back. “For all you know, this could all be an elaborate ploy of mine.”

“True, but to what end?” Starlight challenges then shakes her head. “I think you're too smooth for that. What's more, I think the rumors of the Ghosts really are true up to a point. There really was an elite group of changelings that hid in the shadows. I think the rumors about them weren't one-hundred percent true, but they did exist.

“However, now there might be a whole army of them out there in Equestria, and all of them ruled and controlled by the original source.” Starlight shakes her head. “You're not special anymore. You're just a slave . . . or rather you were and you'll be so again. Why would a changeling that careful permit flaws in his otherwise perfect society? As soon as he learns of your existence again he'll put your right back in chains. You and I both know that, especially you.

“I think he can't stand errors in any way that might later get in his way. Twilight is like this too sometimes. She also has her own sense of O-C-D. I think he's a lot like her, and that means I understand him on some level.”

“Well good for you,” I once again congratulate dryly. “You don't seem to need me anymore. Why don't you go ahead and bury yourself under more and more false assumptions.” I give her an evil sneer as I taunt her by saying, “I'm just going to sit back and watch.”

“Are you sure that's wise?” Starlight cautions. “Compared to your standards, ponies are indeed gullible fools. Most of us are actually very easy to manipulate. I'll admit that. I've done that to other ponies myself at times. I used to rule over a whole village with an iron hoof.”

In response, I merely yawn.

“Don't dismiss that because that fact is important,” Starlight warns. “Despite all of our faults, we are good neighbors and we do take good care of the environment. If your original self disrupts us then he disrupts the balance of everything else as well. Ponies do indeed have innate magic within themselves but what most others species don't know is that that magic has some conditions attached to it. If we get too depressed, we lose our magic. We drain of color. That also means we can't manage the environment anymore. Can you even imagine how bad the world can get if the sun or moon doesn't rotate for even one day?”

This time I just stare at Starlight because I think even Raven would acknowledge that is a very good point, but he wouldn't openly admit that either because he wouldn't want to reveal any weakness until there is an advantage in doing so.

Meanwhile I am secretly cheering Starlight Glimmer on! While I am forced to play the devil's advocate for the moment, I am really on Starlight's side at heart.

“You wouldn't be the first who attempted to threaten that balance,” Starlight goes on to say. “Years ago, Nightmare Moon also promised that the night would last forever. If she had succeeded to carry through with that threat, then are you really stupid enough to believe that any of us would be alive enough to discuss this on this day?”

“She probably had some contingency plans for her loyal followers,” I surmise. “The Princess of the Night isn't that dumb. If she can transform some of your kind into bat ponies, it would be foolish to assume that is the maximum extent of her powers or that she couldn’t at least repeat that.

“Bat ponies have excellent night vision, by the way.”

Starlight shakes her head before saying, “Messing with the environment on that scale is a very slippery slope. So many things depend upon the cycle of balance that it would be impossible to foresee them all. Not even she could do that. If she had really carried forward with her threat, we'd all be dead.”

“What's your point?” I ask impatiently even though I calculate exactly where this is leading. I just want Starlight to say it emphatically.

“My point is your original self may be driving us all to the same level of doom. No matter what your or his goal is, unless it is total destruction, you'll achieve nothing more than the total annihilation of us all. We all depend upon the cycle of balance more than you know. It’s even more than we know.

“Do you remember those three days when magic was draining all over the world? You must have noticed that, or rather to say your original self must have noticed. During that time, things happened in the world that none of us foresaw coming. For example, food rotted faster.

“Take that one example and multiply it across the whole world. Imagine all food across the world rotting faster. If that one thing about the world goes, then everything that depends upon it breaks down. Ponies will starve out and die and you changelings would lose your food source, too.

“Don't you see? We all need each other for survival. Your original self is about to severely disrupt that balance and you'll be affected too. Do the smart thing for once and let's work together!” When she says that, she sits down and presses both of her forehooves together.

I just stare at Starlight as I do some quick mental calculations. Specifically, I search for counterarguments that he might come up with, but I also look at this from a broader perspective. I ask myself what exactly would he want to achieve in this conversation if he was actually here?

The answer that comes to me is to continue to test them and find out which one of them, if either, might be the changeling spy.

For that, I realize that I'll have to say something compromising to his operation. Something he can't allow me to continue to say.

But I also got to deliver that in a way that sounds convincing even to his original self.

“You Ghosts were trained to be loyal to Queen Chrysalis, but I think that's only the beginning,” Starlight surmises. “Ultimately, your true loyalty lies with your race itself. Chrysalis was simply another cog in the machine. If I'm right, then what you and your original self want is to secure the survival of your race.”

Starlight shrugs before she goes on to say, “Maybe you're also convinced that Thorax is doing a bad job of it, but can't you see that is why he needs you more? Your drive, your determination, your focus on your mission, your skills and suspicion . . . the changelings need it all, and don't you dare deny them either! No matter what form they take, they are still changelings. The hive is right there . . . waiting for you to return home and they do indeed need you. Your strength is why they were so strong before. Without it . . . Well.” She shrugs. “I'm sure you’ve seen the results for yourself, or at least your original self did.”

“Do you even realize what you are asking of me, Starlight?” I ask. “Even if I was interested, you can't imagine how much we'd be up against.”

“Whatever the odds are, I know our chances of success are better if we work together,” Starlight points out wisely. “And you are a wild card in this situation. You can be a tremendous help. He may be working with an elite army, but we're not lacking an army either. The changeling pack is ready to aid us in this endeavor, and I also know that they'd welcome you with open hooves.

“Give them a chance,” Starlight encourages. “They're not as bad as they seem.”

Now? Did Starlight say enough to convince Raven yet? That's my measuring stick before feeling ready for the next phase of this conversation.

Also, WOW, Starlight! Way to go! You go, girl! Woo-hoo!

“We can either be friends together, or slaves together,” Starlight presses. “Although I don't think we'd have to endure the latter for too long, for things will fall apart faster than you can imagine.

“Believe me, I know. I have traveled through time before and I have seen what other realities looks like when the magic of friendship didn't endure.” She shudders before she promises, “Trust me, it's not something you'd ever want to see. I still have nightmares about it sometimes.”

I widen my eyes a bit. Travel through time? Seen other realities? Is she serious?

Huh. I really didn't know that. I wonder what other secrets these adults are keeping from us for our supposedly own good.

Eh. I guess I can't really blame them. If I have seen horrors like what she's alluding to, maybe I'd feel uncomfortable telling my own foals that if I had any.

Something I need to keep in mind is Raven can read other ponies very accurately. His innate changeling ability to smell emotions is only the start. He's also an expert reader of subtle body language. As a result, he'd be able to tell that Starlight is convinced that she's telling the absolute truth as she knows it. It might not match objective reality but it's the truth as far as she knows.

So when she offers her hoof in friendship and claims that we need to work together, she's speaking from the heart and Raven would see that.

Add to that, Raven, in particular, has had a unique perspective this past year. Impersonating a pony is one thing but being one is another. He's been in the passenger seat for quite some time now and he might have learned some new things because of it.

A genius isn't dumb. On the contrary, they learn things usually fast. He might be stubborn on some points but he seems to ultimately hunt for the truth while simultaneously being guarded about his own.

I also have to keep his goals in mind. What is most important to him? Both he and his original self can't be too dissimilar. I think the survival of his race really is important to Raven. He just doesn't want to be a pawn while he's at it.

As I go down a mental checklist in my mind, I realize there's a few left to tick off still but maybe enough of them is checked off to warrant the next step. I hope it isn't my own impatience that's causing me to be overzealous.

I do, after all, need to be careful because there is a lot at stake.

“Hypothetically, let's say I am interested in cooperating,” I propose. “What exactly do you want from me?”

Say you want coordinates to the lair, Starlight! Come on! Say it!

“Isn't it obvious?” Starlight asks. “We need directions to his lair. Once we have that, we can end this threat at its source.” Starlight quickly gives a pushing motion to me as she assures, “And this doesn't have to go down lethally for your original self either or any of his clones. If I can talk you into seeing reason then we are even more prepared if we work together.”

Inwardly, I wince since I know how Raven would reply, but the pony in me is sooo loathe to say it.

Still, I must. I'm playing devil's advocate right now.

I narrow my eyes as Starlight at I challenge her, “Does that mean you lack the conviction to do as you must? You told Sweetie Belle earlier that you'd do anything to defend your loved ones, yet I detect hesitation in you now to draw blood on your hooves. I guarantee you that your opponent wouldn't hesitate if that is what's necessary for him to accomplish his mission.”

I really hate to admit it, but what I just said is totally true and Starlight needs to know that.

“I am not prepared to throw away any option right now,” Starlight assures. “If talking to him solves this problem, then great! I, of all ponies, know how powerful and successful a good conversation can be in saving the world.”

Starlight points at me firmly as she then says with steel in her voice, “But make no mistake! If I really have to draw blood then I will! My encounter with you has already proven that you'd be willing to go that far so I have to take that into account when dealing with your original self as well. Knowing that my friends, Twilight and Ocellus were hurt because of my hesitation was more painful to me than any blow you threw against me directly. Trust me when I say that I am determined to avoid that happening again!” She stands up straight as she says, “I will do whatever I must. That's the bottom line.

“Look into my eyes, changeling. See the fire and conviction in them, and tell me . . . does it seem like I'm telling you the truth?”

“Yes,” I admit.

“Then your original self will reach that same conclusion,” Starlight promises.

I narrow one eye at Starlight as I warn, “He can make promises too, pony, with as much conviction as you, if not greater.”

Starlight gives a horsey snort as her mane and fur stand up straight for a moment. Intense tension is in her stance as she tells me, “If you really wish to test my willpower then I am game! Bring it on, fool! If you do, I'll show you how powerful I really am!”

I stare at Starlight blankly but it is costing me all of my strength to avoid staring at Starlight in stunned awe.

Oh wow! I think I have another mentor to look up to!

“There is nothing I'd be unwilling to do if it becomes necessary to protect my friends! Do you hear me? NOTHING!!!” Starlight screams.

With conservative effort, I droop my eyes listlessly as I say, “Very well, pony. We'll see if your bite can match your bark. Be warned, though, you are challenging an army of the most elite our race can possibly offer you.”

Starlight's expression softens a bit as she assures, “Deep down, we all want the same thing. It's easy to get lost in life but the fundamentals are still always there. He just needs to see that we stand to accomplish more together rather than as adversaries.”

“Huh.” I close my eyes and chuckle for a moment before saying, “Very well.” I open my eyes again. “Now, mind you, a Mirror Pool clone’s memories of the original isn't perfect, but to the best of my knowledge, the location of his lair is-”

I am cut off when I see Starlight's body jerk for a moment then falls forward, unconscious. Behind her, I notice Sunburst had stabbed Starlight in the back with a new pointy hoof that undoubtedly dripped with some kind of toxin.

My eyes grow listless again, at least outwardly. Even though I knew this was coming, I secretly still feel very afraid.

“Now that is interesting,” the fake Sunburst says as his hoof morphs back to normal. Well, at least normal for Sunburst. “I never thought I'd see the day when a mere pony would crack even one of my clones.” He bows to Starlight's unconscious body as he says, “My dear little pony . . . you have my respect.” He rises from his bow. “But, of course, we cannot let a threat like this continue to linger, now can we?”

His horn flashes with magic and it is still with Sunburst’s normal color. However, the result is something far more powerful than the real Sunburst could ever pull off to the best of my knowledge. As a result of his spell, Starlight's body teleports away.

I widen my eyes at this.

“Oh, don't worry about the trap. I've disabled it a long time ago,” the fake Sunburst assures me, then he chuckles with evil glee. “Who do you think helped Starlight establish it in the first place?”

“I take it you sent her to our lair?” I figure aloud. “To be replaced with a changeling clone.”

“But of course,” the fake agrees. “We can't waste valuable resources.” He examines his left forehoof coyly as he proclaims, “These ponies are such fragile and gullible creatures. It is why we are meant to rule them.”

Rapid calculations spin through my mind. Among them is all the reasons why Sunburst was targeted for replacement.

The more I think about it, the more it makes sense. Sunburst is like Starlight's second in command, yet he doesn't seem too threatening on his own and thus wouldn't draw too much attention. He's like Professor Stygian in that way.

What's more, by accessing Sunburst's knowledge, the changeling establishes a massive advantage for himself. With all of that knowledge serving the changeling, he could secure even more perfect strategies. The real Sunburst would be none the wiser all along.

This also means that the changeling was aware of the Cutie Map project from day one, but he probably underestimated it at first. He didn't know it would reveal the true form of one of his clones or sever that clones ties to him, nor could he predict that Button Mash's mind would be replaced in my body.

But, once that was done, the Cutie Map revealed his true lair for a brief moment by showing where Button was relocated to. Ever since then, he knew that Map was an obstacle that he'd need to get out of his way. He relocated Button Mash, now in my body, to hide the true location of his lair. Once we found Button in my body it misdirected us into thinking that perhaps the body was there all along. Then, after that, he teleported the Map somewhere to make sure it wouldn't be a threat to him ever again.

My only question to all of that is if Starlight ever tried to search for Sunburst's cutie mark?

But then again, he was right beside her all along. Maybe the Map tried to report Sunburst’s true location, but he tampered with the Map enough during those moments to conceal that fact.

However, the experiment with me had unexpected results, and Sunburst wasn't there the first time I did the experiment with Starlight anyway. As a result, he probably was unprepared to tamper with the results during that particular time.

“Now, the question is, what am I going to do with you?” the fake Sunburst asks as he looks at me. When he does so, I realize, for the first time, how surprisingly menacing that nerd can be when he looks at me in the wrong kind of way. I feel severely creeped out at this moment and I fear he can smell it.

But I have to remember that I'm still playing as Raven, so I'd better keep playing along.

“What makes you think any action is necessary?” I ask as I match his coy grin. “I knew it was you all along. I only toyed with the pony to find out how much she knew.” I look down to where Starlight was with a look of respect in my eyes. “For a pony, she was pretty smart and resourceful.” I look back at fake Sunburst as I go on to say, “Obviously she was no match for us, the most elite changelings, but she could be considered an elite of her species. By testing her knowledge, I was able to ascertain the limits of her capabilities. While I'd normally call it pathetic, we're skilled enough to recognize true talent when we see one.

“You know, it's too bad she wasn't born a changeling. She might have had the stuff it takes to join our former organization.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” the fake agrees. “But, in a weird way, she'll do exactly-”

Both of us are surprised when Starlight suddenly appears out of the blue and shoots a MASSIVE hornbeam at the fake Sunburst. That attack nails him to the wall for several seconds before he collapses forward, thoroughly unconscious.

“Wha . . . what?” I ask in stunned shock.

“You can drop the charade, Sweetie Belle. I know it's you,” Starlight Glimmer says over to me with a wide grin.

My jaw drops open. I am flabbergasted.

“You need to come with me,” Starlight says as she trots over to me. “We need to hurry to the next phase of my plan. Unconscious or not, his original self will be aware of the sudden loss of one of his pawns.”

I look down at the fake Sunburst in concern. I notice the fact that he is still in Sunburst's form. Thinking back, I remember when Ocellus was knocked unconscious, she was forced into her true form. However, he is not reverting this time which might be indicative of his elite training.

“Oh, don't worry about him,” Starlight assures as she looks down at the same body. “He isn't going anywhere. I made sure of it.”

Author's Note

"Twists and turns are my master plan, then find the Elements back where you began."

~Discord