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: