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.