Before the sun rose into the sky by Celestia's magic, and its rays illuminated all of Equestria, the daily routine had already begun at the Pie family farm. While the rest of the world still dreamed, the farmers were up, ready to face another day in the fields and rock quarries.

The sound of the bell signaled it was time to get up and start the day.

Normally, I’d spring out of bed to begin tackling whatever problems the day had in store for me. But today… I just stayed in bed longer than usual. For once, it didn’t matter if I was the last to use the bathroom.

When I finally got up, my sisters had already left the room, leaving me alone. I stood in front of my familiar Tree of Decisions for a few moments, staring at it. I grimaced, then shook my head and let a faint smile creep onto my face before heading out.

The Pie family was gathered at the table, eating breakfast and preparing for another long day on the farm.

Normally, we’d go through our morning chores before heading off to school, but we’d been given a few days off, as had all the young ponies in Rockville. The reason? I had no idea. Usually, I’d dig into every detail to figure it out—whether it was a holiday, an incident at school, or something else entirely. But today, I just wanted a break from overthinking everything and decided to focus on what was in front of me.

As I bit into the rock from my rock soup, my eyes drifted to the star resting in the center of the table.

The weekend spent out in nature had come to an end. To be honest, it had been nothing like I imagined. I didn’t find my Cutie Mark, of course, but at least I didn’t accidentally trigger a catastrophic change in Pinkie’s. That’s already a win… I guess.

Even so, everything that happened left me rethinking a lot.

First, my dear Tree of Decisions. I think I’m going to put it on hold for now. It’s a great system, sure, but when you’ve got too many options and they all seem like they could end in disaster, all you end up with is a monumental headache. Why can’t there just be one definitive, brilliant option that fixes everything? Well, a pony can dream. In the meantime, I’ll try not to overcomplicate things with endless alternatives.

Second, like my tree, I’m putting the whole Cutie Mark thing on pause too. I’ll keep trying new things to see what works, but I won’t obsess over it anymore—or at least, I’ll try not to.

Third is the final day of the camp, especially the Pie family cave. A cave that, as far as I know, isn’t mentioned anywhere in my past life. It’s completely new—or at least it is to me. That’s exciting on its own.

But the cave ended in a collapse, so it’s out of reach for now. Still, knowing where it is means I can return someday, dig my way back in, and explore it properly.

Finally, the star. It appeared after all the chaos in the cave and doesn’t match anything I know about this world. It’s new. And while it seems to have some connection to magic, Rockville isn’t exactly a hub for magical knowledge. I tried searching for clues in the library’s books years ago, but I found nothing—not about magic, not about runes, which seemed like the closest topic given the rocky context of the place.

Geologically speaking, the gem doesn’t fit either. I’ve gone through every text available on the subject and never encountered anything remotely like it.

The only thing I can assume is that it's probably a lost family heirloom or something, after all it was found in the Pie cave.

For now, investigating its origins is on hold. The best idea I’ve come up with is turning it into a necklace and wearing it. Maybe something interesting will happen, or someone will recognize its significance.

As I contemplated the star’s possible origins, I noticed Maud watching it with what, for her, was practically enthusiasm.

“Can I?” she asked, tilting her head toward me with her usual calm.

I responded with a classic “hmmp-hmmh,” which everyone at the table understood as a clear “yes, go ahead.”

Maud carefully picked up the gem, holding it between her hooves like a rare specimen of igneous rock. She examined it under the light of the lamp, slowly turning it while murmuring things clearly tied to her deep geological knowledge.

“Interesting…” she finally said, her tone as flat as Rockville’s horizon. “It doesn’t seem like a rock. Nor does it resemble any mineral I know. It’s…” She paused, searching for the right words. “…inexplicable.”

“But probably not geologically relevant.”

And just like that, her interest vanished as if it were just another piece of ordinary gravel.

The star passed indifferently into Limestone's hoof, who grabbed it with that brusque style that perfectly defines her personality. She lifted it to eye level, frowning as if trying to intimidate the gem into revealing its secrets.

“What’s so special about this?” she muttered in that grumpy tone she even uses to say good morning. She gave it a couple of shakes, expecting—who knows what—maybe for it to glow or explode. But when it did nothing, she huffed in annoyance.

“Total waste of time,” she said, tossing it to Pinkie with the same confidence you’d have playing catch.

Pinkie caught the star with ease and, having no better options, decided to investigate it in her own… unconventional way. First, she sniffed it deeply, as if hoping to detect some hidden scent from the gem. Then, she gave it a small lick.

“It doesn’t taste like anything,” she announced with disappointment before finally passing it to Marble.

Marble, ever the quiet one, took the gem delicately, as though expecting it to explode at the slightest touch. She frowned slightly when she noticed Pinkie’s saliva still glistening on its surface, tilting her head in mild disgust.

She didn’t say a word, but her expression spoke volumes. Without further ceremony, Marble handed the star back to me, returning it to its original place at the center of the table.

I stared at it, raised a hoof, and gave it a light push, making it spin a couple of times like a casino chip.

“Nothing,” I finally said, breaking the silence with a tone of resigned curiosity. “It’s… weird.”

Of course, that wasn’t new. Weird seemed like the perfect description for so many things in my life lately.

After breakfast, I tucked the star away in the drawer next to my bed. Morning chores were divided among us, and after about an hour of work, we had a short break before diving into the midday tasks.

Normally, I’d use this time to add new entries to my Tree of Decisions, read, or train. But I’d decided to pause the tree for now; I’d read every book the town had to offer, and today felt special.

Before, I worried about the potential apocalyptic future of changing Pinkie’s Cutie Mark. But worrying about a terrible future and staying on the sidelines is a whole different thing.

Like I decided years ago, I’ll create my own story. And today, it starts with my project.

While my sisters were busy playing catch with a smooth, round stone, I snuck off unnoticed and headed to the barn, where we kept our tools and supplies.

The barn was large and red, with white trim around its edges. Inside, the space felt massive, with wooden beams supporting the structure and a ladder leading up to the loft. Bits of dry, gray hay were scattered here and there, while boxes, barrels, and cabinets full of tools lined the walls. In the center stood a workbench, surrounded by all kinds of tools as if waiting for someone to use them.

I found some wooden planks in one of the boxes. They were heavy and much larger than me, but I managed to drag them to the workbench. Looking at it, I realized it was too tall for me, so I pushed a crate over and positioned it next to the bench, using it as an improvised seat. Satisfied, I sighed. With everything ready and a whole arsenal of tools at my disposal, I was finally prepared to begin my “grand project.”

I kept hammering the wooden planks with great effort. Each time the hammer slipped awkwardly from my hooves, I couldn’t help but wonder if unicorns appreciated their telekinesis enough. Probably not. I bet they don’t even think about how lucky they are, moving objects as if it were child’s play.

I was in the middle of this carpentry drama when a sharp yell tore through the air:

“I told you not to touch Holder’s Boulder!”

That unmistakably authoritative and irritated voice could only belong to Limestone.

I sighed, setting aside my modern medieval torture device (also known as a hammer) and looked at my work. “Masterpiece,” I thought sarcastically. It wasn’t perfect, or even good, but it would do. For something as simple as what I had planned, it would suffice.

Satisfied—or as close to satisfied as I can get these days—I headed out to investigate the commotion.

I carefully cracked open the barn door, just enough to peek my head out and take a look.

“Just for a moment, Limestone!” I heard Pinkamena respond with that carefree tone that always seemed to irritate Limestone even more.

Apparently, someone had thrown their “ball” too far, and it had gotten lost among the countless rocks scattered across the farm. Pinkamena had decided to climb to a higher spot to look for it, while Limestone continued her tirade about the sanctity of Holder’s Boulder.

Ah, Holder’s Boulder.

In our family, this enormous rock is considered a sort of sacred relic. Technically, it’s just that: a rock. But it has its story. According to family legends, our great-great-grandfather Holder Cobblestone found it in a dragon’s nest and decided to build the farm around it.

A dragon’s nest? Really? It’s so ridiculously exciting that even I have to admit the story gives it a certain charm. I respect that rock—though, honestly, more for the boldness of our ancestor than for the rock itself.

However, Limestone takes it to another level. One time, I caught her whispering to it. That was probably one of the hardest moments of my life to stop myself from laughing in her face. Of course, I didn’t because I value my life. But I think it showed in my expression because Limestone gave me a look that promised a slow and painful death.

Since then, I’ve tried not to interrupt her… conversations with the rock. I’m pretty sure she thinks of it as her pet.

Talking to a rock. I’m never going to reach that point. Then again, considering how my life’s been going lately, maybe it’s just a matter of time. Maybe. No, not yet. For now, at least.

With that thought, I sneaked away quietly, determined not to interfere. My plan was simple: get back to the house without drawing attention.

But, of course, Pinkamena had other plans. From her elevated position, she spotted me and called out:

“Echorellian! Just the pony we need. We lost the ball. Would you help us find it? Oh, and you could play with us too.”

Great. Now all my sisters were staring at me with hopeful eyes.

I thought about it for a moment. Technically, I’d finished my work in the barn, but I still had to check the inventory for my next project.

“Hmm… in a bit,” I replied with a sly smile, “but first, I need to do one thing. I’ll need lemons. Lots of lemons.”

The confusion on their faces was almost enough to make my day. Anything to keep them guessing.

After the afternoon chores and with some materials I’d managed to convince my parents to lend me (honestly, I never thought they’d agree so easily), it was time to set my much-anticipated project in motion.

With a mix of excitement and a touch of nerves, I loaded my creation onto a cart just my size, covering it with a blanket to keep the mystery alive. Nothing screams “genius at work” like a project hidden under a blanket, right?

Rockville, as usual, was as gray and monotonous as ever. It’s the kind of town where routine rules and leisure might as well be a foreign concept. At the heart of the town is a wide, practically empty plaza that most ponies only use as a shortcut to their destinations. Between the heat, the monotony, and that underutilized space, I found the perfect spot for my next move.

My plan: a lemonade stand.

Yes, I know, it sounds cliché. But that’s exactly why it’s brilliant. This place needs something as simple as a bit of lemonade to shake up its dull existence. I set up my stand—it was decently built, thanks to my clumsy experience with tools—and painted a sign that, while not professional, stood out enough to catch attention.

To my surprise, Maud and Pinkamena decided to join me. Apparently, the covered cart had piqued their curiosity too much to ignore.

With the stand ready, I hung the “Open” sign on the front and flashed my best smile at the passing ponies. It was the perfect time to open for business… and, of course, to execute my real plan.

Though we’re not struggling financially at home, we’re not exactly swimming in bits either. We’re in that middle ground where the ups and downs are constant. But for the ideas I have in mind—whatever they may be in the future—I’ll need funds. And like every great empire, this one will start small, with what I have at hoof right now.

At first, I stayed at my stand, greeting and smiling at every pony that passed by. I watched with satisfaction as their curious gazes turned toward me. I even overheard a few whispers:

“How adorable! A colt selling lemonade… how precious.”

Exactly what I was hoping for. How could they resist a young pony, at a hoof-painted stand, offering homemade lemonade? My stand stood out like a splash of color in the gray plaza, and it didn’t take long before the first curious ponies started approaching.

As I served cups and collected bits, I couldn’t help but feel a small, maniacal laugh bubbling inside me. I kept my expression composed, but on the inside, it was like I was plotting world domination… one lemonade at a time.

Amid my momentary success, I glanced behind the stand. There were Pinkamena and Maud, working as if their lives depended on it, squeezing lemons with a speed I can only describe as heroic.

"The jar is almost empty," I said, watching the lemonade level drop. "We’ll need more soon."

"We’re trying!" Pinkamena exclaimed, squeezing another lemon with all her might. "How did we even end up doing this?"

"You two showed way too much interest in my project and volunteered to help," I replied with a mocking smile. "Look at Maud. She’s doing it without complaining."

"My hooves hurt from squeezing so much…" murmured Maud with her usual indifference, as if she were describing the weather.

"Don’t worry," I said, trying to sound motivational. "Once this is done, the sound of bits will heal any pain. Keep squeezing like they’re rocks under pressure!"

"Using rocks against me. Only you would do that, Echo," Maud remarked, giving me a look that was probably the closest she could get to amusement before going back to squeezing.

After the initial crowd thinned out and the sales slowed, I let out a sigh of relief. Finally, a moment to rest. I leaned against the lemonade stand, feeling the day’s heat begin to ease. I glanced around the plaza with satisfaction. There was something rewarding about seeing the empty cups and the growing pile of bits in the cashbox.

However, my thoughts quickly drifted to recent memories of the campout.

I hope I didn’t traumatize Pinkie… I thought with a mix of guilt and humor. After all, almost being crushed by rocks isn’t exactly what one expects from a family trip. Though, to be fair, it was ironic given our obsession with rocks. At least we made up for it with the view of the bioluminescent moss, discovering the family cave, and, of course, that star. Yes, it definitely had its redeeming moments.

I shook my head, stopping those thoughts before they could drag me down. Instead, I focused on the plaza. Ponies moved about their routines, a parade of gray and earthy tones typical of Rockville’s residents. But something caught my attention: among them were ponies with much brighter colors than usual.

I frowned. That wasn’t common here. My curiosity quickly took over, so I turned to where Maud and Pinkamena were resting, lemonade glasses in their hooves.

"By the way… have you ever seen any of these ponies before? They don’t look familiar," I asked, motioning subtly with my head toward the newcomers.

Both tilted their heads simultaneously to get a better look. After a few seconds of scrutiny, Maud spoke with her characteristic calm.

"No. I don’t think they’re from around here."

Pinkamena nodded in agreement.

"So it wasn’t just my imagination," I murmured, more to myself than to them. "I was already wondering why the stand had been so successful with so many customers."

Although I’m no expert, my intuition has sharpened a lot since I was reborn in this world. And something about this felt… off.

Rockville isn’t exactly a tourist hotspot. It’s a small, simple town with no recreational activities or standout attractions, aside from its history. And, to be honest, that history isn’t all that fascinating. It’s about rocks. Literally. So seeing so many new ponies here, especially ones with such vibrant colors, was definitely unusual.

I crossed my hooves in front of me, lost in thought. Maybe it was just a coincidence, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned about this world, it’s that when something seems strange, it usually is.

Author's Note

The camp has ended.

Echo feels calmer and has decided not to obsess over his decision tree or his Cutie Mark for the time being.

The mystery surrounding the star remains unresolved. Although every family member has handled it, the star doesn’t seem to exhibit any magical properties.

There’s an honorable mention of Holder’s Boulder.

Echo has started a new project: a lemonade stand.

Interestingly, Rockville has been seeing a sudden influx of visitors—perfect timing for Echo to take advantage of it with his simple yet effective lemonade stand.

Fun Facts:

• This chapter about creating the lemonade stand was one of the scrapped chapters. More details in the next chapter.
• Holder’s Boulder was mentioned in this chapter. I vaguely remember an official mention where it was revealed that Limestone once considered Holder’s Boulder her pet, much like Maud and Boulder.

Thank you for reading!