The Longest Road

by SpaceComet

Rating: mature
Tags: Profanity, Violence, Slice of Life, Human, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Comedy, My Little Pony Comic, Adventure, Pinkie Pie
Length: 111258

Reincarnation sounds great... until you discover that you've been reborn as an earth pony into a family of rock farmers. No magic, no glamour, and a diet of, well, rocks. But Echo has a plan: become an alicorn.

After an unexpected reincarnation, getting a second chance at life should be a good thing. For Echo, however, the real struggle isn't being reborn, but deciding what to do with this new life.

“Everything good will always be the most difficult while everything bad will always be the easiest”

It's a phrase that constantly echoes through his mind, trapping him in an endless cycle of self-doubt and self-criticism. If everything can fall apart in an instant, is it even worth the effort? Thus, Echo fills his wall with a complex, ever-growing decision tree, searching for the perfect path... only to repeatedly crash into the same wall of uncertainty.

Fed up with his indecisiveness, he makes a radical resolution: reach the absolute top. Become an alicorn, the pinnacle of existence in Equestria. However, there's one problem: he was born an earth pony, hornless, wingless, and into a family of stone farmers.

From this humble beginning, Echo must face each challenge with ingenuity and determination.

The road will be... complicated.

Featured on the day: 11/28/2024 :D

Published 2024-11-28 07:30:01 UTC
Last updated 2025-01-17 04:57:50 UTC

Chapter 1: From heaven to earth

The universe has a cruel rule—one so unyielding it seems carved in stone, impossible to alter no matter what you do. It doesn’t matter if you’re the best at what you do, a hero, a powerful being, or even a god.

“All good things are always the hardest, while all bad things are always the easiest.”

This rule can be expressed in countless ways, but no matter how you look at it, it holds true. Building a structure can take months or even years to complete, but a few explosives are all it takes to tear it down. Building a stable relationship takes time and trust, but one stupid mistake can destroy everything. Being a model citizen requires years of following every rule and norm, but a single misstep can ruin a perfect life painstakingly built over time. That one mistake gets permanently etched into your record, making job searches harder, relationships strained, or even broken.

The negative is always the easiest: stealing, cursing, anger, breaking, hitting, lying, attacking, falling ill, or succumbing to depression. Meanwhile, the positive is always the hardest: building, staying healthy, believing, being happy, maintaining relationships, learning, and growing.

It seems like a universal rule, one you can clearly see if you pause and observe the world around you. It's one of the cruelest rules of the universe—a single act of evil can inflict more damage on the good than you can imagine.

As I said, one small act of evil can destroy everything you've worked for in mere seconds.

And it was just that—a stupid mistake, a moment of malice—that changed my life forever. That tiny, insignificant moment robbed me of the most precious gift the universe bestows upon all living beings: my life.

One moment, I was walking my usual route home after spending some time alone in the park to clear my head, and the next, I was lying face down on the ground, unable to move, my body soaked in a crimson puddle seeping out of me.

The only thing I managed to see was a hooded man running in the opposite direction, sprinting as if his life depended on it, clutching a very familiar bag in his arms—my bag.

I was stabbed over a simple backpack containing nothing more than a change of clothes and a bottle of water.

A life built over years of effort erased in mere seconds.

The universe—or fate—can be a massive jerk sometimes. If I hadn’t spent so much time reflecting on my life in the park, maybe I wouldn’t have crossed paths with that guy. If only I hadn’t gone to that park, or had taken another route, or stayed home that day, or even been on the other side of the street…

A single act of evil, and it was all over.

That’s life—always so complicated in every aspect. Play or work, enjoy the day or prepare for tomorrow, chase your passions or follow the path others set for you. Deciding which path to take—friends, fame, knowledge, wealth, or peace.

But honestly, does any of that matter right now? All those complications are things you deal with when you’re alive. But now? Now, I don’t have to worry about what to do with my life because, first of all, I’m not even alive anymore.

Second of all, I spent far too much time in life philosophizing about my existence—time I now regret wasting since I never reached a conclusion. Now, I’m dead, and I never figured out what I truly wanted to do.

However, all those problems, that stress, and those complications? They’ll never bother me again. After all, I’m dead now.

...

That’s right. I’m dead.

...

...

Am I dead? I can’t see anything, just an infinite darkness surrounding me. I can’t feel anything—not my body, not a single sensation.

But despite all this being clear proof of not being alive, why am I still thinking? I think, therefore I am. And if I exist, then I must be alive… right?

Yet, how can I be alive when that guy clearly stabbed me, there was no one else around to call an ambulance, and I felt all my strength fading away as I closed my eyes for the last time? There’s no way I could’ve survived that.

And yet… here I am, thinking. Wait—if I’m still thinking, maybe the afterlife isn’t just a state of “ceasing to exist.” Maybe, just maybe, I’m in some sort of afterlife.

So, tell me, universe—who was right in the end?

...

So, this is how it’s going to be, huh? The silent treatment. Very mature, universe.

Or maybe I’m in some kind of waiting room, an in-between space between life and death. If that’s the case, then what exactly am I waiting for? A gateway to paradise? Judgment? Or, in the worst-case scenario... total oblivion, slowly fading into nothingness.

Whatever it is, I guess I don’t have much choice but to wait. Unless, of course, this is some kind of test of patience or determination.

Either way, I think I’ll just sit here and wait for something to happen, though I doubt it’ll be anyt—

And just like that, as if the universe itself had been eavesdropping, something happened.

Out of nowhere, a blinding white light appeared in front of me. The grand revelation of the afterlife unfurled like a curtain, illuminating the darkness that had surrounded me.

So, what will it be? Judgment, paradise, or complete annihilation?

Minutes later, after being bathed in that warm, radiant light, I discovered what awaited me on the other side. Much to my disappointment, I should add.

It turns out, after all the trials and tribulations of life, the grand secret of what lies beyond death is (drumroll, please)... nothing less than another life!

That’s right—the answer to the great mystery of existence after death is reincarnation. Who would’ve guessed? Turns out, all those isekai stories are based on true events! Ha!

Don’t get me wrong—I love being alive. But after a good, ironic moment of reflection about life while I was dead, I realized that life can suck. Hard. All those agonizing questions about what to do with your life, which path to take, what career to choose for your future... those endless pros-and-cons lists that consume you when you hit young adulthood. And now, I have to go through it all again.

Just when I thought I’d escaped the exhausting overthinking that comes with making every decision—knowing full well that everything could be ruined in an instant—it’s all back. So, what’s the right choice? Should you work tirelessly for a brighter future, even though life might end abruptly? Or should you live in the moment, pursuing peace and joy even if tomorrow is uncertain?

All those existential crises have come back to haunt me, right along with the fact that I’m alive again. If only I’d figured it all out before, I wouldn’t be stuck mulling over it now. But here I am, starting over from scratch. “Welcome to the world, kid. Here’s your complimentary existential crisis,” I told myself as I reincarnated.

But that’s not the only surprise. Not only have I been reincarnated, but I’ve also been reborn in a completely different world—if my excellent deductive skills aren’t failing me.

Why do I think this is another world? I'm not entirely sure, but being cradled in the arms of what appears to be a grey horse with a blue-grey mane, lying in a hospital bed, while another pony in a lab coat stands nearby, makes me think that the intelligent life forms of this world are colorful horses.

Everything seems relatively normal for a birth—if you ignore the intelligent horse part. I suppose the one holding me must be my mother, and the one in the lab coat is undoubtedly the doctor.

Wow! Reincarnated into a world of horses. Depending on the time of day, I might feel differently about this. On one hoof (yes, I’m saying that now), a new and unknown world could be a great adventure. On the other, recalling how easily life can go off the rails with one simple mistake, I can’t say I’m thrilled about the prospect of an "adventure" at the moment. Maybe I’ll feel differently once I learn more about this place.

I strain to turn my head, trying to take in my surroundings. Besides me, there are two other creatures cradled in the hooves—er, forelegs—of what I assume is my mother. They’re wailing at full volume, and from their size, they seem to be my age. One is gray, and the other... well, they’re entirely pink. Bright pink. I really hope that’s not contagious.

Wait a second. They were already here when I arrived, so that must mean...

“Congratulations, Mrs. Cloudy Quartz! You have triplets!” the doctor exclaimed. He then walked to the door and opened it, calling out, “You can come in now, Mr. Igneous Rock Pie!”

Triplets, huh? So, these two are my siblings. That’s amusing. But what really grabs my attention is that they’re tiny horses just like me. Fascinating. As for the new arrival, the horse who just entered the room seems... nervous, I think?

This one is a brown stallion with a gray mane. He has long sideburns, wears a black tie, and sports a hat that reminds me of something out of an old, depressing farming era—a black hat with a gray band.

He looks around nervously from the doorway before the doctor gestures toward us. The brown horse freezes for a moment before his eyes widen, locking onto what I assume is my mother, my siblings, and me. Slowly, he approaches the bed and stops right beside it.

“These are our little ones,” he said softly, inspecting us with such focus you’d think he was trying to memorize every tiny detail.

“Two fillies and a colt,” my mother said in a calm, relaxed voice.

Wait—two fillies and a colt? So that means... filly equals girl, and colt equals boy, right? That pink one is almost certainly a filly. But the gray one? Could they be the colt? And if they are... does that make me the other filly?!

Igneous placed a hoof to his chin and spoke again. “Fortunately, we already had names prepared.”

He glanced at the pink foal for a moment, inspecting her thoroughly before gently cradling her in his hooves. She had already calmed down and was now fast asleep.

“Pink,” he murmured, then glanced at my mother, who nodded. Finally, with a tone of serenity and a touch of enthusiasm (or so I think), he announced, “Pinkamena Diane Pie.”

Pinkamena... so, she’s the filly. That checks out.

The serious stallion carefully returned Pinkamena to my mother’s hooves before turning to the gray foal beside me. He repeated the process: a moment of observation, then gently picking them up for a closer look.

“Seven minutes after Pinkamena,” my mother noted as she adjusted Pinkamena in her right foreleg. She then added, “Marble Pie.”

Marble? Like the rock? Is that a girl’s name or a boy’s? I need to know! Don’t leave me hanging—tell me the gender! I need to figure out if I’m the other filly or not!

Marble, who had been crying all this time, eventually fell silent as Igneous swayed them gently in his hooves. Once they drifted off to sleep, he placed them back into my mother’s care.

Finally, my turn came.

Like my siblings, he examined me thoroughly before lifting me in his hooves. Our eyes locked, and for a moment, it felt like a battle of wills—his unblinking stare meeting my own wide-eyed gaze.

"The youngest, twelve minutes after Marble" my mother added.

As the brown stallion continued to study me, something in his eyes shifted. Should I "act like a baby"? Should I cry? A serious demeanor might seem suspicious. What if someone noticed that I wasn’t acting like a typical newborn?

The thought sent my mind spiraling into chaos. “What if they think I’m... strange? Or, worse, that I’m... aware?” My imagination conjured ridiculous, catastrophic scenarios.

When the horse looked at me closely and murmured, almost to himself, "You have serene eyes... just like mine when I was young. That’s good. Strong, like a proper farmer… you shall be named Echorellian Crumble Pie" I felt a wave of relief wash over me.

For the first time since my arrival in this world, I could stop pretending. The paranoia weighing on me eased, and I managed to give the farmer a shy smile. To my surprise, he returned the gesture with a subtle, knowing smile, as if he understood something unspoken about me.

This horse was clearly my father.

In that small interaction, I realized a few things. First, the language here is exactly the same as my previous world’s. What are the odds of that? Thinking about how astronomically low the chances must be to land in a universe where the language barrier isn’t a problem is mind-blowing. But hey, I’ll take this lucky break.

Second, the phrase “a proper farmer” gave me an important clue about my new life: this family owns a farm. Honestly, I’m okay with that. A simpler life, less stress, and plenty of land? Sounds like a pretty good deal. Plus, inheriting a farm in the future is almost like being handed a family business. Definitely a safety net if anything I try later goes sideways.

Lastly, it became clear that my calm demeanor didn’t bother him. This meant I wouldn’t have to fake being a typical baby. No need to cry on cue or act like a complete newborn.

My father held me for a moment longer, studying me in complete silence until the sound of the door opening interrupted the moment. It was the nurse, her expression apologetic for the intrusion. My father carefully placed me back in my mother’s hooves before heading to the nurse. After a brief exchange I couldn’t quite catch, they both left the room.

I sighed inwardly. It seemed there wasn’t much need to keep up the charade of being a “normal baby.” This was my life now—truly mine. I wasn’t some intruder or a human magically transformed into a horse. No, I was reborn here. This was my new existence, a new world to explore, a family I was born into, and, well… a new body.

Wait. A new body!

The realization hit me like a truck. If my parents were horses, then that meant I was a horse too! No more hands with opposable thumbs—just these stumpy little hooves.

I glanced at my siblings nestled beside my mother. Did that mean I looked like them? I mean, it made sense, but… oh no. I’m really a horse, aren’t I? Should I laugh at how absurd this is, or should I be utterly depressed about it?

Wait, what did my father just call me? “Echorellian Crumble Pie”? What kind of name is that? Is it masculine? Feminine? Oh no, they left me hanging again. Am I the colt, or… the filly? The suspense is killing me!

Unfortunately, I didn’t have the energy to keep spiraling. Being freshly born meant my eyelids were getting heavy again. So many questions, so much weirdness, but it could all wait. Right now, I needed sleep. A nap seemed like the best idea ever.

Several days passed, most of which I spent in the hospital. It was a routine of being cradled by my mother, placed in a crib, and occasionally seeing my father for an hour each evening before he left again.

During this time, I made a discovery: these weren’t regular horses—they were ponies. Small, colorful ponies. A world of talking ponies… it sounded oddly familiar, but honestly, between pondering life, death, reincarnation, and being in a whole other world, I had enough on my plate without trying to dredge up where this seemed familiar from. My newborn energy reserves could only handle so much thinking at once.

But the real breakthrough? I finally confirmed that Marble was a filly—a girl. Which meant, to my immense relief, I was the colt. Thank goodness. That was one less thing to worry about.

The monotonous days of checkups and medical routines gave me plenty of time to sort through my thoughts, even if the repetition got a little dull.

Today, however, things were different. My father, Igneous Rock, arrived early. After some discussions with my parents and a few of the hospital staff, they began preparing to discharge us. Finally, I was leaving this place for good—or at least, that was the gist of what they were saying.

I’m being carried in a basket by my mother, alongside my “twin” sisters—quotation marks very much intentional. We’re in the living room with my father, just a few meters away from the door. Finally, after what felt like an eternity of waiting, I’m about to see the outside world for the first time. What lively, surprising, and fantastical adventures await me beyond these doors?

The brightness of the sunlight blinds me for a moment until my weak newborn eyes adjust, and the blur sharpens into clarity.

For the second time in my new life, I’m disappointed.

The colorful, friendly, and magical world I imagined would greet me is nowhere to be found. Instead, I see a gray, barren, and depressing landscape that saps my enthusiasm just by looking at it.

Well, drawing from the wisdom of my past life, I can only recall a saying that seems fitting for this moment: “If you expect nothing from anyone, you’ll never be disappointed.” I’m not sure if a great philosopher said it or if I heard it on TV, but it doesn’t matter—it’s equally valid.

But seriously, is this how you welcome a newborn into the world?

We’re now riding in a cart pulled by my father, Igneous, over a dusty, gray road. The landscape is sparse, with a few trees barely clinging to life, leafless trunks, and a scattering of rocks. The horizon offers more of the same: desolation, patches of scraggly earth, and the occasional decrepit hut. Eventually, we arrive at what I assume is our home.

As we cross an open field, I take note of the farmhouse. It looks like a typical farmstead—two stories tall, wooden walls, a thatched roof, a windmill, and a grain silo. There’s a barn off to one side, and vast open fields stretch around us. Everything screams “farm life,” but… where are the crops? The fields are littered with nothing but rocks—small rocks, big rocks, just rocks everywhere.

Don’t tell me we’re in the middle of a drought or, worse, some sort of economic crisis. That would explain the worn-down appearance of this entire town.

This is bad news. I really don’t want to set a record for shortest reincarnation. I just need to survive long enough to move independently. Maybe, just maybe, my mind, armed with the wisdom of another life and world, can help improve our family’s situation.

For now, I just have to trust they can take care of me until I reach that point.

As we approach the house, we pass under a wooden archway with a dusty sign hanging from it. My father stops the cart a few feet from the front door. Despite some minor signs of wear, the house feels sturdy. My father unhitches the cart and helps my mother out. She holds us firmly in the basket, but with a gentle touch. My father then moves the cart and drives it toward the barn.

My mother waits at the entrance of the house, standing patiently until my father joins her. Once we’re all together, the door opens.

All right, let’s see what will be my home—and my future economic project.

From inside the house, the sound of hoofsteps grows closer. Clip-clop, clip-clop. Soon, two smaller figures and one larger one emerge.

I assume the smaller ones are my siblings. As for the larger one, they seem too old to be another sibling. Based on her appearance, I’d guess she’s my grandmother.

“You’ve returned. I trust your journey went well, my dear son,” the older, pinkish pony said, her voice warm and steady.

My father nodded respectfully. “Thank you, Mother. The trip went without issue. I appreciate you looking after the girls while we were away.”

My mother set the basket down gently on the ground so everyone could see us. I curiously observed the two younger ponies approaching. Judging by their size, they couldn’t be more than a year or two older than us—or at least that’s my best guess. I wasn’t exactly an expert in judging horse ages in my previous life.

One of them was a filly with gray fur and a purple mane. Her demeanor was calm, almost solemn, and her expression barely shifted. Her deep, tranquil eyes seemed to calculate every detail, and the tilt of her head suggested curiosity tinged with caution. She stood a few steps away, silent, simply observing.

The other filly had a grayish-blue coat and a mane that was nearly white. Her expression was more animated—aggressive, even. There was something fierce in her gaze, as though she were ready to protect or confront, or maybe both. She stepped forward boldly, leaning over the edge of the basket to get a closer look at us.

After a closer inspection by my grandmother, which included the classic cheek-pinching routine, my mother picked up the basket and carried us inside the house.

Even as we entered, my mind kept circling back to one question: what exactly do we grow here?

Author's Note

This story is not a self-insert, but interestingly, while I was writing about his crisis about deciding, it influenced me and made me indecisive in some aspects of the story, which ironically ended up in me making my own decision tree. I hope that helps me develop it better hehe.

Initially he was only going to be Pinkie's cousin but he ended up being a direct relative of hers to get more direct interactions with the protagonist's family.

I know that Octavio already exists in Pony Life but I wanted to give a more personal touch to the character and that he won't impersonate anyone.

Another point: Echo is the youngest of the Pie family by twelve minutes of Marble, nineteen of Pinkie.

Thanks for reading!

Chapter 9: Camping Weekend Part 3

Day Three of the Camp

The sun had just begun to rise, its warm rays painting the morning sky with a soft golden hue. Celestia, as always, was punctual with her duties, but Igneous still hadn't fully shaken off the weight of sleep as he stepped out of his tent. Stretching his legs and yawning with the satisfaction of a father who, for once, didn't have to wake up at the crack of dawn to work the farm, he allowed himself a rare moment of leisure.

Or so he thought.

A rhythmic, persistent sound caught his attention: the unmistakable thud of hooves against the ground. He frowned, puzzled. Who in their right mind would be running this early? This wasn’t a marathon, after all.

Following the noise, he wandered a few paces beyond the tents, his ears swiveling toward the commotion. He had barely begun searching for the source of the racket when a blur shot past him, kicking up a cloud of dust that nearly made him cough. Blinking rapidly, he tried to process what he’d just seen.

“What in tarnation…?”

As the dust settled, the answer became clear: it was Echo. His son was running laps around the camp with a determination that seemed unusual for a colt who usually preferred quieter tasks like pushing rocks.

“Since when is he a morning pony?” Igneous muttered to himself, watching as Echo zipped by for another round.

Finally, Echo seemed to notice his presence. After one last lap, he skidded to a halt in front of him, panting and with sweat glistening on his coat.

“Looks like you’re up before everyone else,” Igneous remarked, raising an eyebrow, his tone a mix of curiosity and mild disbelief.

“Just needed to clear my head,” Echo replied with a nonchalant shrug, a sly half-smile creeping onto his face. “Nothing like running away from your thoughts to make everything seem clearer.”

Igneous squinted at him, scrutinizing the statement before letting out a quiet snort—the closest thing to a laugh for someone as stoic as him.

I tried to play it off as a joke, but honestly? It was truer than I’d like to admit. I needed a moment to breathe, something I hadn’t managed to find yesterday. The camp was proving to be more of a mental challenge than a physical one. And while physical exhaustion can be remedied with rest, mental chaos... well, that requires something else entirely.

My mind was a mess. Too many things swirled around in there like a flock of crazed birds. Getting my Cutie Mark, making sure Pinkie Pie didn’t do anything that might derail her path and alter the future, assessing my own physical capabilities, and—oh yeah—just surviving another day without collapsing under the stress.

Sure, the previous day had been exhausting, but in hindsight, it wasn’t that bad. Participating in unique sports, swimming in a crystal-clear lake, finishing a hike with a zipline—it all sounded great, right? But the current circumstances made it impossible to enjoy any of it properly. My head was too busy worrying about Pinkie, the flying rocks, and the tiny detail of almost drowning because, apparently, my swimming skills didn’t transfer well from my past life to this one.

And the worst part? Still no Cutie Mark.

I glanced at my flank and sighed. Blank. Not even a hint. Pinkie and Marble hadn’t gotten theirs yet either, which should have been comforting... but it wasn’t.

Then there was my physical state. Not terrible, considering my daily training, but clearly not enough. Climbing the mountain had left me winded, and I couldn’t keep up with Maud during RockBall. My old skills felt diminished in this new body. Could I even ride a bike now? With hooves instead of hands, it seemed unlikely. Best not to dwell on it.

And then there was that pink sphere of light I’d seen during the hike. Magical, clearly. But why here? Rockville was practically a magic-free zone. Its inhabitants were all Earth ponies, and its library had no books on magic—I’d checked, repeatedly. The shelves were crammed with volumes on rocks, crystals, plants, geology, and carpentry, but not a single tome on spells or enchantments. For years, I hadn’t seen a trace of magic in this place, and now, suddenly, a glowing sphere appears out of nowhere.

I couldn’t get it out of my head. What was it? Why was it here? And, most importantly, what did it mean for me?

I shook my head in frustration and glanced at my father, who was still watching me with a mix of curiosity and concern. I wasn’t ready to tell him about the sphere—not yet. I needed to figure it out on my own. Until then, running seemed like a good way to keep my mind occupied.

“C’mon, Dad. If you’re up, why not do a couple of laps with me?” I asked, trying to sound cheerful as I got back into position to run again.

He raised an eyebrow and shook his head, with what I imagine was a faint smile tugging at his lips.

“You know I can’t keep up with you, son. But go ahead—have fun.”

And so I did. At least until reality caught up with me again.

The sun had been gracing the sky for about an hour, and the Pie family camp was fully awake. After a simple yet classic breakfast of hay-and-dandelion sandwiches, each family member began planning how to make the most of the free day ahead.

Cloudy Quartz, ever the rock enthusiast, suggested a trek to the most mineral-rich and arid section of the area—a desert brimming with unique rocks and minerals. Naturally, Maud joined the plan without hesitation, and Marble was reluctantly dragged along, her lack of visible enthusiasm as predictable as ever.

That left Igneous, Limestone, Pinkie Pie, and Echo at the campsite.

Time passed in a strange, tranquil stillness. Each pony kept themselves busy in their own way: Limestone shuffled small rocks back and forth as if playing an invisible game; Pinkie hummed a tune that likely only existed in her head while collecting sticks; and Echo lay under the shade of a tree, enjoying the quiet and stretching occasionally.

Igneous, meanwhile, sat beside the campfire, its embers from the previous night still faintly glowing. He stared into the flickering flames with a serene expression, as if the fire were sharing ancient secrets with him. Suddenly, he cleared his throat, covering his muzzle with a hoof. His eyes slowly swept over the campsite, observing each pony in silence.

Despite the apparent stillness, Echo was quite content. The rare calm, particularly with Pinkie Pie present, felt like a luxury. The knowledge that Pinkie wasn’t about to earn a Cutie Mark as a professional stick collector helped soothe his mind.

With one last lazy stretch, Echo closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the peace. But that tranquility shattered abruptly when his father spoke in a clear, decisive voice loud enough for everyone to hear.

“What do you all think about going climbing?” he asked suddenly.

Echo’s eyes snapped open, startled by the unexpected proposal. His head tilted slightly, his confusion evident.

“Climbing?” he thought, still trying to process why his father had suggested such a random activity.

Before he could voice his thoughts, two enthusiastic voices behind him answered. Pinkie and Limestone seemed thrilled by the idea—especially Pinkie, who began bouncing lightly in excitement, an unusual display of energy from her lately.

Echo sighed, resigned. Where Pinkie goes, I go too, he thought, shaking his head to dispel the lingering sleepiness. With a forced smile, he stood up slowly, trying to convince himself it might actually be a good opportunity.

“Well, I guess I haven’t tried climbing yet…” he muttered to himself, searching for a silver lining.

Once the remaining Pie family members at the camp agreed to go climbing, they began preparing with practical enthusiasm. They packed several saddlebags with sandwiches, ensuring everyone had their share and with various objects for the activity and others. A note was left pinned to one of the tents, letting the others know they’d gone to explore a nearby mountain to avoid any worry.

The hike to the climbing site took some time, but the group managed it with a blend of discipline and quiet camaraderie. Igneous Rock led the way, maintaining a steady pace and glancing back occasionally to ensure no one lagged behind. Right behind him were Pinkamena and Echo. Notably, Echo stayed close to Pinkie, his watchful eyes tracking her every move with quiet diligence.

At the rear of the group, Limestone observed Echo’s unusual attentiveness toward Pinkie with a slight frown. It was as if she were trying to solve a puzzle but chose to keep her thoughts to herself.

The journey lasted about an hour of slow walk, before they arrived at the base of a unique rock formation. The mountain loomed ahead, imposing yet accessible, with tiered, flat levels forming a natural, step-like structure. Each tier offered a spacious platform to rest before tackling the next, making it ideal for a family outing.

Igneous raised a hoof to capture the group’s attention. In a firm yet calm voice, he gave instructions for setting up the equipment. The younger ponies unpacked the saddlebags, pulling out helmets, knee pads, and safety belts. Igneous meticulously inspected each piece of gear, adjusting straps and ensuring everything was secure before giving the signal to proceed.

“All set,” he finally announced, attaching the ropes to the harnesses. He climbed first, serving as the anchor in case anything went wrong.

The rest of the group followed suit. Limestone climbed second, her determination evident. Pinkamena came next, moving carefully but with unusual restraint, her energy channeled into a steady rhythm. Echo brought up the rear, maintaining a consistent pace while keeping an eye on the group ahead.

The climb wasn’t without its challenges, but after conquering three levels, the group decided to pause and catch their breath on one of the platforms. The spot was surprisingly welcoming, with patches of moss and grass growing over the stone, adding a touch of life to the otherwise barren landscape. From there, the forest spread out like a green tapestry below them, with a horizon that seemed to blend seamlessly into the sky.

As the group lunched and sipped water, Echo kept his gaze fixed on Pinkie. Only after confirming that her flank was as blank as ever did he let out a sigh of relief. He’d act if she showed any signs of a Cutie Mark epiphany, but for now, the situation was calm. Allowing his mind to wander, he turned his attention to the scenery.

Igneous, meanwhile, had moved to the edge of the platform. He sat quietly, gazing at the sprawling view below with an expression of calm introspection. The wind played with his graying mane as he seemed lost in thought, a serene contrast to the activity behind him.

Noticing his father’s pensive state, Echo decided to join him. With a light tap of his hoof on Igneous's side, he drew his attention. The older stallion turned his head to see Echo’s sly grin.

“You know,” Echo began with a playful tone as he sat beside him, “if this mountain could talk, it’d probably be yelling at us to stop stomping all over its head.”

Igneous blinked at the quip but shook his head slightly, as if refusing to admit he found it amusing. Echo, unfazed, stretched with a theatrically exaggerated groan and flopped onto his back to better enjoy the view.

For a moment, Igneous watched him curiously before mimicking his action. With an equally dramatic grunt, he leaned back beside his son, eyes now fixed on the horizon with a mixture of amusement and tranquility.

“Not a bad view from up here, is it?” Igneous murmured, more to himself than anyone else.

“Not bad at all,” Echo replied with a satisfied smile.

“I brought us here because this place is special,” Igneous said after a pause, his gaze still on the landscape. “It’s been a long time since we’ve ventured beyond the farm for something other than business.”

Echo tilted his head, wondering what had prompted the sudden outing. He sighed softly, realizing it must hold sentimental value for his father. Although curiosity bubbled inside him about why this spot was so meaningful, the quiet and peaceful moment made him decide to save his questions for later.

“It’s clear this place means a lot,” he murmured, eyes once again drawn to the horizon.

The silence between the Pies didn’t last long, broken by Igneous’s steady, authoritative voice.

“It took longer to get here than I’d planned. We’d best start heading down before it gets too late.”

He stood with practiced ease, giving clear instructions for everyone to gather their belongings.

Echo lingered at the platform’s edge for a moment longer, his gaze sweeping over the expansive forest below. His thoughts drifted aimlessly until a flicker of light caught his eye.

Squinting, he tried to focus, and his heart skipped a beat. It was there. Again. The same pink sphere of light he’d seen the day before, drifting gracefully between the treetops before vanishing once more.

His brow furrowed with a mix of disbelief and frustration. Twice couldn’t be a coincidence. Why here? What does it mean? he wondered, but no answers came.

Igneous’s voice broke through his thoughts, pulling him back to reality.

“Echo! Make sure everything is packed and secured before we head down.”

Shaking off his distraction, Echo stood and got to work. The descent was slow but uneventful, and after several careful minutes, they reached the mountain’s base. Everyone let out sighs of relief as they unbuckled their helmets and safety gear.

As Echo loosened his harness, something odd happened. Tiny, shimmering purple particles floated past him, glowing like fireflies. His gaze followed the trail until, to his left, he saw it again—the pink orb of light.

It spun playfully among the trees and bushes, as if beckoning him to follow.

His heart raced. This time, I’m not letting it slip away.

With frantic urgency, he freed himself from his gear. Before anyone could stop him, he leapt over a bush and disappeared into the undergrowth.

“Echo!” Igneous’s panicked shout rang out as he watched his son bolt.

The stallion moved to pursue him but barely managed a step before colliding with two smaller figures. Pinkamena and Limestone, still tethered together by their climbing ropes, tumbled into him, causing a resounding "Uff!" knocking all three into a tangle of legs and gear.

Meanwhile, Echo darted through the forest, his hooves pounding against the ground as adrenaline fueled his every step.

There it was again! That magical sphere, that glowing, mysterious orb that wouldn’t leave me alone. This time, it wasn’t getting away. This isn’t a coincidence—it’s magic! REAL MAGIC! I thought, nearly laughing like a madpony. I was so excited. For a moment, I almost forgot I was in Equestria, a place where magic was as common as air.

I let out a half-crazed giggle. For the first time in this life—and definitely in my last one—I was witnessing actual magic in action. Something inside me ignited; I couldn’t let this chance slip by. I picked up speed, weaving through trees and branches as though my life depended on it.

The orb seemed to realize I was following it, as it began to move faster, leaving a shimmering trail of light in its wake. My legs ached with every step, but I didn’t care. This was my chance to uncover something incredible.

Suddenly, the orb vanished into a bush. Without hesitation, I leapt straight through the branches.

“Here I come!”

But just as I landed—

CRACK.

The ground beneath my hooves gave way. I let out a yelp as I plunged into darkness, landing on my side with a jarring thud. Dirt, leaves, and twigs rained down around me. The pain wasn’t as bad as the shock, but I stayed still for a few moments, catching my breath before scrambling upright and shaking off the debris.

The place where I’d landed was eerie yet fascinating. The cave was wide and dark, lit only by a single beam of light streaming through the hole above me. It illuminated a small circle on the ground where I stood. Two tunnels stretched out in opposite directions, as if daring me to choose one.

“Echo!” a voice shouted from above.

I looked up to see three heads peering down: Igneous, Limestone, and Pinkamena. Their faces were painted with worry.

“Are you alright?” my father asked, his tone stern and commanding but edged with concern.

I shook off the last of the twigs and gave them a bright, reassuring grin.

“I’m fine!” I called back, hoping to ease their nerves.

Igneous didn’t look convinced, but at least he seemed a little less tense knowing I wasn’t hurt.

“Don’t worry. We’ve got a rope. We’ll get you out,” he said, his voice calm but still heavy with worry.

“That’s fine, but…” I paused, glancing upward with genuine curiosity. “Did you, by any chance, see a glowing orb floating around up there?”

Three sets of confused eyes stared back at me, as if I’d just asked if bushes could do ballet. Limestone was the first to speak.

“What orb? We didn’t see anything. Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked, wearing the kind of expression you reserve for ponies who’ve clearly hit their heads too hard.

I rolled my eyes.

“Never mind. Just get me out of here when you can,” I grumbled, brushing off some more dust from my hooves.

While they exchanged glances and muttered about whether I was losing it, Igneous turned to rummage in his saddlebag for the rope. And that’s when it happened.

As if the universe decided to prove me right, the pink orb appeared again. This time, it floated right between the three of them and over the hole, drifting with an annoyingly theatrical slowness. It practically oozed smugness as it glided toward a nearby bush and disappeared once more.

The three ponies froze, their jaws dropping as they watched it vanish. For a moment, they looked at each other, then back at me, their confusion now mixed with disbelief.

Before anypony could say a word, the ground around the hole began to crumble.

“Watch out!” I shouted, stepping back just in time to avoid being buried by the collapsing dirt—and the three ponies now plummeting toward me.

With a quick leap and a move I’m fairly sure rivaled any circus performer (okay, maybe not), I dodged my family as they landed in a dusty heap with a loud thud. A cloud of dirt rose around us, making me cough a little, but at least everypony was still in one piece.

Limestone was the first to recover, scrambling to her hooves with an annoyed growl, shaking off dirt like she wanted to yell at the entire cave for existing. I straightened up, raising an eyebrow at the scene.

“That glowing orb,” I said triumphantly, pointing toward the now even bigger hole above us.

Limestone shot me a glare so sharp it could’ve sliced through the cave walls. Her eyes rolled so hard I was briefly worried they might get stuck.

“Are you serious?” she snapped, clearly unimpressed as the others tried to regain their footing.

I couldn’t help but grin despite the chaos, thoroughly enjoying her frustration.

Author's Note

The third and final day of the camp.

While Cloudy, Maud, and Marble embark on a hike through an arid area to study rocks and stones, Igneous Rock suggests that Limestone, Pinkamena, and Echorellian join him for some climbing.

Interaction Between Echo and His Father

Echo once again notices the mysterious magical orb, but this time, he decides to chase it. It’s the first magical thing he has ever encountered in either of his lives, so naturally, he’s eager to grasp it with his hooves.

Unfortunately, Echo falls deep into a cavern. Just as he assumes everything will be fine and that his family will rescue him, the orb teasingly appears in front of the others. Without warning, they too fall into the cavern alongside Echo.

Notes:

In scenarios like this, where the protagonist encounters something unusual and extraordinary, the typical cliché is for the protagonist to hide it or for others to dismiss their claims. I hate that trope, so in this case, everyone clearly sees the orb.

Thanks for reading!

Chapter 18: Echoes of doubt: Part 3 - Survival

The school auditorium was packed. Parents, teachers, and students filled the seats, chatting in a cheerful buzz while awards were handed out on stage to the top performers in various clubs and competitions. From sports medals to prizes for art and science, every mention was met with applause and cheers.

Among the crowd, Felix made his way to his family with a small smile on his face and a ribbon in his hand. It was a yellow ribbon with a modest "5th Place" written in gold letters. It wasn’t much, but at least it was something. Something he could show them for once.

“Look!” Felix said with a spark of pride, handing it to Anthony, who took it curiously. “Fifth place in chess.”

Anthony examined it with a faint smile.

“Hey, not bad!” he said, clapping Felix on the shoulder. “Look, Mom, Dad, Felix got an award.”

His mother barely glanced up, nodding distractedly, and his father made a noncommittal noise of approval while continuing his conversation with another parent about Anthony’s achievements.

Before Felix could process their lack of interest, a teacher stepped onto the stage and announced:

“And now, a special recognition for those who made it to the podium in our competitions. A big round of applause for our champions!”

Felix watched as the students in first, second, and third place climbed onto the stage amidst applause and camera flashes. His small fifth-place ribbon, which had felt like an accomplishment just moments before, suddenly felt heavy in his hands.

Anthony, noticing the shift in Felix’s expression, tried to lift his spirits.

“Hey, don’t let that get you down. You participated in a ton of stuff this year. That’s more than a lot of people do.”

Felix scoffed, his eyes fixed on the stage.

“Yeah, I participated in a ton of stuff. Fifth in chess, eighth in painting, ninth in track… want me to keep going?” he said sarcastically, dropping the ribbon onto his lap. “It’s like I’m trying my hardest to be mediocre at everything.”

Anthony turned to him, surprised.

“How do you manage to do so well in so many things? Honestly, I thought you’d be terrible at all of them.”

Felix shrugged, tired, and leaned his head against the back of his chair.

“There’s a trick to everything, bro. If you have no idea what you’re doing, you just… wing it,” he said, catching Anthony’s curious look before continuing. “Take chess, for example: if you don’t know how the pieces move, just let the other guy make the first move. Watch and learn. He moves a bishop, and you think, ‘Oh, that thing goes diagonal.’ Then you just copy, adapt. By the end, you look like you know what you’re doing.”

Anthony blinked, incredulous.

“And that works?”

“More often than you’d think,” Felix replied with a weary smile. “Same with painting. I saw the girl next to me mixing colors and copied her. In track, I just kept pace with the better runners. It’s like… adapting in real time. Analyze, imitate, and learn. You don’t need talent, just attention to detail.”

Anthony let out a disbelieving laugh.

“You’re like a chameleon with a survival manual.”

Felix chuckled softly too, but the laughter faded quickly.

“It works… but only up to a point,” he murmured, his gaze drifting back to the stage.

Before Anthony could respond, a deep, firm voice interrupted them.

“Those aren’t accomplishments, Felix.”

Both of them looked up. Standing before them was Mr. Williams, a tall man with gray hair and thin glasses, known for his stern demeanor.

“They’re just beginner tricks,” the teacher continued, his tone calm but cutting. “Imitating, adapting, and advancing without real understanding can help you get by, but it won’t take you anywhere. It’s like walking in circles thinking you’re making progress.”

Felix stayed silent, uncomfortable under the teacher’s intense gaze.

“You know what, Mr. Williams?” Anthony chimed in with his usual carefree smile. “My brother got a ribbon. That’s better than nothing, don’t you think?”

The teacher ignored the comment and kept his focus on Felix.

“Felix, you have a talent for surviving, but not for deciding. And you’re running out of time to keep going in circles,” he said, his voice softening slightly as if offering advice. “You’ll graduate soon, and adapting won’t be enough. You need to decide who you want to be.”

An awkward silence hung in the air. Adjusting his glasses, Mr. Williams gave a final nod before walking off into the crowd.

Anthony waited a few seconds before breaking the tension.

“What a pleasant guy, huh? Like a fortune cookie… but grumpier.”

Felix didn’t respond at first. His eyes were fixed on the fifth-place ribbon he still held in his fingers. After a moment, he exhaled slowly.

“Maybe he’s right,” Felix finally said in a subdued voice. “I can’t keep copying everyone else. Sooner or later, I’ll have to choose what to do.”

Anthony glanced at him sideways and gave him a friendly nudge.

“Hey, don’t overthink it. You’ve got time to figure it out. And if all else fails, you can always copy my success,” he joked with a grin.

Felix weakly smiled, though the weight of the professor's words lingered in the air like a shadow that was hard to ignore.

Meanwhile, the auditorium filled with applause for the winners on stage.

Pegasi and unicorns have always been wrapped in an aura of fantasy and myth, symbols of the sublime in collective imagination. From the pages of stories and legends, they’re presented as embodiments of beauty, kindness, and magic. How could they not be? They’re extraordinary beings, exceptional by nature, the kind you’d only dream of encountering in fictional worlds or adventure films.

Pegasi, with their divine wings, capable of brushing the skies like celestial birds, are portrayed as brave, loyal, and noble. Unicorns, on the other hand, are the personification of elegance, solemn creatures whose horns seem to contain the secrets of the universe itself. Both are, in short, pure magic condensed into equine form.

And in contrast, what do simple horses have? Nothing. They’re just that: horses. No wings, no horns, nothing remotely magical or mystical.

When I realized where I was, I could hardly believe it. Pegasi exist! Unicorns exist! And magic, damn it, magic is real! All of this should have been a dream come true. Theoretically, at least.

But.

Recently, I had my first chance to see the other two pony tribes up close. The moment I had been waiting for so long finally arrived.

And you know what? I’m disappointed.

Yes, I said it. Deeply disappointed. In fact, I’ve lost track of how many times this world has managed to frustrate my expectations.

The first pegasi and unicorns I’ve seen… I don’t know if it was bad luck or if they simply weren’t what I expected, but far from being inspiring or majestic, all they did was glow their horns menacingly and spread their wings like roosters trying to stake their territory. From the moment they suspiciously quickly formed their groups, everything about them screamed arrogance and superiority, and honestly, I don’t know exactly what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this.

At the moment, we’re near the obstacle course. We’re divided into three groups, each exclusively made up of one tribe: unicorns over there, pegasi here, and us earth ponies (Flashing joined us too), at the back, watching from a distance and feeling like the last pick in a schoolyard game.

“Welcome to the next phase,” announced Harshwhinny with that tense smile that felt more like a nervous tic than a genuine gesture. “Now that you’ve formed groups, you’ll participate in a series of team activities where we’ll evaluate your performance.”

Her words hung in the air, followed by a joke attempt so bad I’d rather not repeat it. Naturally, no one laughed. An awkward silence stretched between us, broken only by an occasional cough. I noticed her eye twitch slightly before she let out a nervous chuckle and motioned for us to follow her.

On the way, my group was as lost as I was. No one knew what to say. Glances darted from the ponies of the other tribes to one another, searching for any clue of understanding. What are we supposed to do? The unicorns kept lighting their horns as if to remind us they could, while the pegasi flapped their wings with an air of smugness that was impossible to ignore.

They led us near the edge of the forest, where they placed three enormous, empty baskets in front of each group.

The first challenge: apple collecting.

The premise was simple: some apples had been strategically placed at the tops of the trees, and our goal was to gather and deposit them in the baskets as quickly as possible. I have to admit, the idea was quite clever, though I couldn’t help but notice how alarmingly it favored certain participants with natural advantages.

Harshwhinny, maintaining her rigid demeanor, gave us a few minutes to prepare before starting. I appreciated it; I needed time to process everything that was happening.

Meanwhile, the other groups wasted no time. The unicorns and pegasi gathered in organized circles, clearly ready to discuss strategies or at least pretend they had them. In contrast, we earth ponies remained in a state of collective confusion. It was as if we were all waiting for someone to explain why on earth we were here in the first place.

In an attempt to mimic the others and hopefully make some sense of it all, I raised my voice.

“Alright! Let’s gather like the others. Form a circle. Or something that looks like one.”

Surprisingly, it worked. My group obeyed, though with clumsy movements, forming something that resembled more of an irregular oval than a circle. I sighed and decided to take charge.

“I’m just going to say what we’re all thinking: I have no idea what’s going on,” I declared, being as blunt as possible.

Several nodded in unison, their faces reflecting the same confusion I felt.

“Are those… unicorns and pegasi?” asked Starry, a bluish-gray colt from my class, his eyes shining with both curiosity and disbelief.

“Definitely!” exclaimed Dusty, a brown-coated colt, with enthusiasm. “My family visited Canterlot recently, and I saw unicorns just like them. Exactly the same!”

Before I could respond, Flashing’s voice abruptly interrupted the conversation.

“Alright, minions, stop wasting time. None of that matters now. Just pick apples, stay out of my way, and we’ll win this challenge,” he declared, exuding an overwhelming confidence I had no idea where he got from.

I frowned, unable to stop myself from asking aloud, “And how exactly did you end up in this group?”

Flashing shrugged with total indifference. “They needed a captain, and here I am.”

Oh, of course, because nothing screams "captain" like Flashing. To be fair, he had neither wings nor a horn, just a messy mane that looked like it had lost an epic battle with the wind. I guessed that the unicorns and pegasi had organized themselves in advance, ensuring they stuck with their kind, leaving Flashing excluded and relegated to our group.

With Harshwhinny’s call, we scattered and took our positions.

As I stood at the starting line, I couldn’t help but think about how chaotic this seemed. Each group had at least forty members. How was this supposed to work without becoming a complete disaster?

I glanced around. The pegasi and unicorns. I had imagined my first encounter with them as something far more magical, like a dream come true—not… this.

I looked at my group. Surprisingly, Flashing had taken the lead and stood at the front like he actually knew what he was doing. I let out a deep sigh.

The sound of the bell marked the start.

As soon as the bell rang, a stampede of ponies darted toward the apple-laden trees. I stayed in place, coughing from the dust they kicked up and wondering if this was a competition or some kind of military training.

“Echo? Are you alright?” Maud’s calm voice broke through my daze.

With a nod and an effort to clear my mind, we moved toward a nearby tree.

We stood staring up at it. The branches were full of shiny, red apples. Perfect. Now, how exactly were we supposed to do this? If I still had hands, this would’ve been a breeze. I sighed, giving a nervous smile of resignation. With nothing else to try, I began climbing.

It was clearly more complicated without appendages designed for the task, but I’d climbed before—ropes during the obstacle course, even a mountain once—so I figured I could handle it.

After some effort (and possibly a scrape or two), I managed to reach a branch high enough to use as a foothold. Stretching my neck as far as I could, I finally grabbed an apple with my teeth. I dropped it below, where Maud waited with a bucket.

One down! I thought this would be easy… until I looked around from my elevated position.

Chaos had erupted.

My group was scattered, each pony inventing their own strategy. Some were forming pony towers, but their clumsy attempts to balance ended with piles of bodies on the ground. Others were headbutting trees, likely earning headaches instead of apples.

I sighed and refocused on my task, picking as many apples as I could before my neck began to protest. Once I cleared the tree, I tried to climb down. It was more of a controlled fall, cushioned by a cluster of bushes that, thankfully, decided not to fight me.

Maud and I filled a couple of buckets and hurried them over to the team basket. But as I placed the apples inside, I couldn’t help but look at our progress. To my horror, we’d barely gathered four buckets. Four. Buckets.

With resignation, we rushed toward another apple tree. Same routine: I climbed, Maud collected. But just as I was about to grab the last apple from the tree, someone beat me to it.

I looked up, dumbfounded. It was a dark blue pegasus, floating effortlessly with their wings as they held the apple in their teeth.

“Too slow, rockhead,” they said with a smug smile before flying off.

I shook my head and took another look around, this time really observing what was happening.

The pegasi darted from tree to tree with an irritating ease, plucking apples from the branches as if they were picking flowers on a picnic. Meanwhile, the unicorns were working in silent cooperation, levitating apples with their horns and tossing them into their baskets with almost insulting precision.

And there I was, an earth pony, staring at the spectacle.

On one hand, it was magic. Magic! Real, tangible magic. Pegasi flew with wings so small they defied all aerodynamic logic, and unicorns moved things with their minds... or horns... or whatever they used. And that glowing aura surrounding the apples as they floated? Well, it was majestic.

I couldn’t help it. A manic laugh began to escape from me.

“MAGIC!” I exclaimed, feeling my excitement grow. “It’s like something out of fantasy novels or video games! Damn it, I want to cast a fireball with a d20!”

My laughter grew louder, probably scaring the ponies nearest to me.

“Echo? Are you okay?” Maud’s voice pulled me back to reality.

“Oh, yeah, yeah. Totally fine,” I replied, trying to sound normal while stifling another chuckle.

Then, the pragmatic side of my brain took over. I briefly glanced at my team: exhausted, sore, but still trying their best. Then I looked at the pegasi and unicorns, using flight and magic like it was the most ordinary thing in the world.

Magic? More like cheating on steroids. Bunch of leafy cheaters.

I climbed down the tree, covered in leaves and with my pride slightly bruised, but at least carrying a couple of buckets full of apples. Maud and I hurried back to our team’s basket to deposit them.

Six buckets. That’s all we had.

I glanced at the other teams’ baskets. They were overflowing. They easily had ten or twelve buckets each.

I turned my gaze back to the battlefield… I mean, the collection area.

The pegasi soared gracefully through the sky, moving from tree to tree like seasoned pros at fruit theft. Apples flew through the air into their buckets in a display of aerial coordination that almost looked choreographed.

The unicorns, on the other hand, were in full “heist movie” mode: groups of three worked together, levitating buckets of apples directly into their baskets as if rehearsing for the telekinesis Olympics.

And then there was us. The earth pony team.

I simply sat down, watching the show with resignation. There’s no way we can compete with that, I thought. Maud, always practical, immediately grasped the situation and sat beside me. One by one, the rest of the team followed suit, including my sisters. We all gathered in a circle in front of our half-empty basket, watching the other teams as spectators at a game we knew we couldn’t win.

And then Flashing showed up.

He was carrying two buckets of apples—one in his mouth and the other precariously balanced on his back. He slammed them down in front of our basket with a loud thud, almost as if to ensure everyone noticed his great achievement.

“What the hay are you all doing? Is this a picnic or what? Get up and do something!” His tone was a mix of frustration and what he probably thought was motivation but sounded more like a grouchy teacher’s scolding.

I opened my mouth to respond, but the sound of the bell interrupted me.

Flashing froze for a moment. His gaze quickly shifted from the other teams to our pitiful basket, and his frustration became palpable. Without a word, he kicked an empty bucket, which rolled away and crashed into a bush, and stormed off muttering under his breath.

“And just like that,” I muttered, “the great captain abandons ship.”

Harshwhinny announced the results:

“The pegasi have won this challenge with twenty-three buckets of apples. The unicorns take second place with twenty-one buckets.”

Of course.

I looked at our team. It seemed we were all thinking the same thing because no one said a word. We just stayed seated, watching the other groups celebrate, silently debating whether it was worth trying next time… or if we should just bring folding chairs and enjoy the show from the start.

The next challenge arrived quickly after our disastrous apple-collecting performance.

It was a relay race.

Finally, something where we could truly compete! I thought, a flicker of optimism sparking in me. Here, there were no trees to fly through or magic to help them… right?

The whistle blew, and the race began.

When Pinkamena reached me, visibly tired but determined, she passed the baton. My turn.

I ran with enthusiasm, feeling the wind in my mane. At last, a chance to showcase the endurance we earth ponies had—those of us who pushed rocks every day. A confident smile spread across my face as I approached Maud, who was waiting to take the baton.

And then the universe decided to remind me that hope is an expensive luxury.

I suddenly tripped and fell flat on my face, swallowing a generous mouthful of dirt.

Blinking, dazed, I turned to see what had happened. A faint purple aura surrounded my hooves.

“Magic…” I muttered with restrained irritation as I got back up.

Of course, the unicorns had found a way to sabotage us, making each of us trip during the race. We finished last. Again.

The next challenge was canoe racing.

Everything started well—or so I thought—until I glanced at the pegasi team. Instead of rowing, they simply lifted their canoes and flew over the water.

Then I looked at the unicorns, who were using telekinesis to move their paddles with a synchronization only magic could achieve.

As for us... well, we were just us. With our hooves and physical effort, we rowed as best we could. Last place, again.

Climbing the rope.

Guess what? The pegasi pretended to grip the rope while using their wings to fly up. The unicorns, being unicorns, enchanted the ropes to shake like angry snakes, making it practically impossible for us to climb.

Another defeat.

"I can't believe it! How is it possible for you to fail at everything?" Flashing shouted, clearly on the verge of a meltdown.

He glared at all of us, expecting some kind of response or reaction. But all he got were tired, defeated looks.

Flashing tried to take on the role of leader, but when your only instructions are "do something," you can't expect miracles. Especially against magic and flight.

The final event of the day was Capture the Flag.

We were led to an open field near the forest. Each team had a flag and matching vests: the unicorns wore purple, the pegasi gold, and us… brown. Because of course.

The goal was simple: capture the other teams' flags and bring them back to your base.

The bell rang, and the competition began.

Well, for the other teams.

Our team stayed seated at our base, staring at the ground. Some even lay down, completely resigned.

Flashing, frustrated, tried to give us a motivational speech, but his words had the opposite effect. When he finished, he ran off alone, leaving behind a group that was more demoralized than ever.

Dusty sighed, staring into the distance. “What’s the point? We tried, and they crushed us in every game.”

“It’s true,” another murmured. “We just can’t compete against them.”

One by one, the comments filled the air. Everyone agreed: we didn’t stand a chance.

I sat quietly, observing the scene. Honestly, I couldn’t blame them. What was the point of competing when the rules were so clearly stacked against us?

Unicorns had magic: they could move things, manipulate objects, and multitask with ease. Pegasi could fly, overcome obstacles, and move with agility we couldn’t hope to match. And earth ponies?

We’re strong, sure. But our strength isn’t special; it’s a necessity. We don’t have magic or wings. All we have are our hooves and determination. And in a world where those two things aren’t enough, we’re perpetually relegated to last place.

I thought about how unfair it all was. Being an earth pony meant being limited from the start, not because of a lack of effort but because of simple biology.

We weren’t special. We weren’t magical.

We were just normal horses in a world that wasn’t.

And for the first time, I understood what it meant to be an earth pony: living with the knowledge that there would always be someone who could do things better, faster, and more easily than you, simply because they were born with the ability to do so.

This wasn’t the friendly encounter I’d hoped for with unicorns and pegasi. No, this was humiliation, plain and simple.

As I wallowed in these negative thoughts, reflecting on the harsh reality of this world, the voices of my sisters pulled me out of that pit.

Not with encouragement or words of inspiration. No, they joined the chorus of resignation echoing throughout our team.

“We lost before we even started,” Pinkamena declared.

“Sometimes, accepting defeat hurts less when it comes,” Maud said calmly.

“I hate to admit it, but we just can’t do anything. We’re nothing against those cheaters,” Limestone added.

Marble chimed in with a soft “hmmph-hmm,” which was sadder than any word she could have said.

I sighed deeply.

Defeat. That’s all we’d experienced from the beginning. They were superior, better. They already had the podium secured, while we... the only thing we could do was survive.

And there was the word.

Survive.

Adapt.

And improve.

I closed my eyes. Surviving was something I’d been doing since my past life. And surviving was something I had to keep doing in this second chance.

If this world worked like this, with earth ponies always at a disadvantage, then I had to learn to live with it. Not just live, but adapt and improve. This was the perfect moment to start, here, where there were no prizes or recognition—just educational trials.

I opened my eyes and stood up.

Alright. Think, Echo. Think.

I scanned the field. Capture the Flag. The rule: take the other team’s flag. But the pegasi could fly over us, and the unicorns could simply levitate it to their base.

Building a fort? Useless.

Digging a hole? Equally pointless.

My eyes roamed the field and stopped on my team—defeated ponies sprawled on the ground in their brown vests, as if waiting for someone to give them official permission to surrender.

And then I saw it.

“That’s it!” I exclaimed aloud, catching the group’s attention.

“Come on, we can still do something!” I said, trying to inject some enthusiasm into the air.

The others looked at me with disbelief, their dark, defeated expressions barely reacting.

“What are you talking about?” Dusty muttered. “Forget it. We’re nothing against them. We’re going to lose. Why even try?”

I smirked—the sly grin that always appeared when I had a plan. “Because we’ve got nothing to lose.”

A few ears perked up, though their faces remained skeptical, as if dealing with a lunatic.

“I know what you’re thinking,” I continued, raising a hoof as if reading their minds. “‘This guy is crazy. We’ve already lost; there’s nothing we can do.’ But tell me something: will we really lose anything? There are no prizes, no recognition. What we’re doing here is just an exercise, a simulation. So, even if we lose, we won’t have truly lost anything... except ourselves.”

“What are you saying?” Pinkamena asked, her gaze sharp and penetrating.

“What I’m saying is this: those cheaters are using magic and wings like it’s nothing, sabotaging us and breaking the rules. But we’re earth ponies. We’re from Rockville. We’ve worked with rocks our whole lives. Some of us are rock farmers, others are artisans, but we all know what real effort means. And if we give up now without even fighting, we’ll lose more than a flag—we’ll lose who we are.”

“But what can we do? We’re earth ponies. We have no way to compete,” someone from the back interjected.

“Maybe we can’t win this battle,” I admitted, my voice softening, “but this isn’t just a test. It’s a fight for something bigger: our ideals. I’m asking—no, begging—each of you to help me in this competition. If you choose to give up, that’s fine, stay where you are. But I choose to fight. And I hope you’ll join me.”

For a moment, silence.

No one said anything, and for an instant, I thought my words had been in vain. But then Maud stood up. Without a word, her mere action spoke louder than any speech. One by one, my sisters followed her example. Then, slowly, the others began to rise as well. Lowered heads started to lift.

“What now?” Limestone asked, her tone more defiant than defeated.

I smiled. “Now, we execute my plan. I need sticks. Lots of sticks. And vines.”

And I grinned to myself. Thanks, movies and TV shows, for giving me a killer speech I could replicate.

The sound of bells marked the start of the game.

On the unicorn and pegasus sides, things couldn’t have been more relaxed. They walked with confident strides, sure of their victory. Their strategy was simple: eliminate the weakest group—the earth ponies—and then focus on the other team.

Both rival groups advanced through the bushes, eventually encountering each other. The initial surprise quickly turned into an unspoken alliance: get rid of the “nuisance” first.

But when they arrived at the brown team’s base, what they found wasn’t what they expected.

There were no ponies lying on the ground in surrender. Instead, every member of the earth pony team stood tall, wearing something strange. Each carried sticks strapped to their backs, and at the top of those sticks fluttered scraps of brown fabric, improvised to look like flags.

The unicorns and pegasi froze.

“What…?” a unicorn murmured, confused.

Every earth pony had a flag. But which one was the real one?

Before they could react, the earth ponies broke formation and scattered in all directions.

They had shredded their team-colored vests and transformed them into decoys. Using sticks and vines, they’d created fake flags, each identical to the original. Now, finding the real flag would be like searching for a needle in a moving haystack.

From the safety of a narrow path between bushes, I ran with a sly, almost malicious grin.

I knew that, as earth ponies, we couldn’t face the advantages of pegasi or unicorns directly. Flying or using magic wasn’t an option for us, but that didn’t mean we were defenseless. If we couldn’t stop them from taking the flag, we could make the process as difficult as possible.

Confuse the enemy, scatter them, make them waste time. That was the plan. And while the rivals frustrated themselves searching for the real flag, a smaller group, led by Maud and Pinkamena, would infiltrate to capture the enemy flags.

A pegasus was chasing me now, flying low and trying to catch me. But I, ever agile, zigzagged between the trees, forcing the pegasus to maneuver awkwardly. With every twist and turn, the space became narrower.

Alone and out of immediate danger, I couldn’t help but laugh. It was a manic laugh, a mix of adrenaline and satisfaction.

Everything depended on Maud and Pinkamena now. If they pulled off their part of the plan, we, the “weaklings,” would have changed the rules of the game.

Meanwhile, Maud and Pinkamena led a group of five earth ponies. Silent but determined, they crept toward the pegasi team’s zone. Their firm gazes betrayed no doubt, even if their strategy was as basic as “grab the flag at all costs.”

The path was clear; most of the pegasi had flown off to chase down the brown team. However, as Maud and her group approached the enemy base, they encountered two winged guards protecting the flag. The pegasi patrolled confidently, certain that no earth pony would pose a challenge.

With no time to think, the five of them charged forward.

The initial surprise caused the pegasi to step back, baffled by the sight of earth ponies charging directly at them. Their hesitation didn’t last long. Regaining their composure, they began lifting the earth ponies one by one, carrying them into the treetops like discarded toys.

Maud led the charge initially, but Pinkie soon overtook her. When the pegasi moved to intercept her, Maud made a split-second decision: she lunged at the pegasi, sacrificing herself to give Pinkamena a chance.

As Maud was deposited atop a tree, the guards turned, only to see Pinkie grabbing the flag and vanishing into the bushes.

The pegasi tried to follow, but the dense branches obstructed their path. They were forced to fly above the treetops, losing sight of their target. Pinkamena, meanwhile, sprinted with all her might, the flag clenched tightly in her mouth, determined to make it back to base.

Just as her base came into view on the horizon, an invisible force yanked the flag from her grip. The fabric floated in the air, suspended by the magic of a unicorn waiting at the base, a smug smile on their face.

The pink pony skidded to a halt, panting. She looked around and saw several earth ponies sitting dejectedly—those who had been captured along with their decoys.

Snorting in frustration, only one thought crossed her mind: "I hope she hasn’t been caught."

Meanwhile, Echo kept running. A pegasus was hot on his heels, and to his dismay, two more joined the pursuit, followed by four unicorns. The pressure mounted with each step.

The forest path split into multiple trails, each promising salvation or disaster. Echo tried to recall the terrain, searching for a clue about which path to take, but the closeness of his pursuers left no time to decide. He veered right, hoping for the best.

It was a mistake.

The trail led him into an open field.

In seconds, the pegasi blocked his path, and the unicorns caught up. Before he could react, the pegasi snatched the flag he was carrying and began squabbling with the unicorns over it. Without wasting another moment, both rival teams sped away, confident in their victory.

Echo collapsed onto the ground, exhausted but satisfied. His sly grin revealed he still had a trick up his sleeve.

The flag they had taken was also a decoy. The real one was hidden, protected by Marble, who, instead of running, had chosen to hide among the bushes. Now, he could only hope his sister hadn’t been discovered.

Twenty minutes later, the bells rang, signaling the end of the exercise.

All the foals gathered in the center of the field, where Miss Harshwhinny waited alongside a group of assistants. Tension hung thick in the air, especially among the brown team.

The Pie family reunited with Marble, who walked toward them with her head lowered. Her faint, barely audible “sorry” seemed to confirm their worst fears: the earth pony team had lost.

Before they could react, Harshwhinny stepped up to the podium, a sheet of scores in her hooves.

“TIE!” she announced, her voice cutting through the air like lightning. “Each team earned one point. Congratulations!”

The earth pony team was stunned for a few seconds before erupting into cheers. Meanwhile, the other teams couldn’t hide their confusion.

“That’s not fair! They cheated!” protested a pegasus. “Those fake flags should be banned!”

An earth pony was quick to retort: “We don’t want to hear complaints from a bunch of flying chickens!”

The atmosphere grew tense, and arguments threatened to escalate when Harshwhinny, in a dry tone, tried to restore order:

“Please, calm down. Do you think they pay me enough to deal with this? Because I assure you, they don’t,” she said, attempting a joke, followed by a nervous laugh.

An awkward silence immediately followed. Harshwhinny huffed, stepping down from the podium. “That’s the end of the day. Return to the square tomorrow at the same time,” she added, muttering to herself, “Why do I even bother?”

Once things settled down, a question arose among the members of the earth pony team: if Pinkamena had been stopped before reaching the base, how had they managed to score a point?

The answer wasn’t long in coming.

Flashing, with an arrogant posture and his chest puffed out in pride, strode toward the group as if marching in a parade.

“I told you, I don’t need any of you,” he declared, a smug smile adorning his face. “I can shine for the whole team on my own.”

And with that statement, he turned on his hoof and walked away, leaving behind a mix of incredulous stares and slack-jawed expressions.

Confusion spread among some ponies who, after a brief silence, began to disperse, heading home.

Meanwhile, my sisters and I trudged in the direction of the farm. There was much to think about.

If Maud and Pinkamena's squad had gone up against the pegasi, that meant Flashing had chosen to take on the unicorns. And from the looks of it, not only had he managed to reach their flag, but he had also crossed the entire enemy field to deliver it back to our base.

Alone. Without magic.

Against unicorns.

I wasn’t sure if the unicorns had guards as organized as the pegasi, but even so, it didn’t diminish the feat. Flashing had faced ponies capable of wielding magic and not only emerged victorious but had done so without assistance.

The conclusion was undeniable: either Flashing was incredibly lucky, or he was absolutely terrifying.

Footsteps echoed down the majestic hallways of the royal castle.

As the massive doors of the throne room opened, Kibitz, Princess Celestia’s loyal assistant, entered carrying a scroll enveloped in his magical aura. His movements were precise as always, balancing the seriousness of his duties with the grace of his position.

He approached the throne and, after bowing in a respectful gesture, offered a formal greeting.

Princess Celestia, with her usual serene demeanor, broke the silence. “Do you have the reports on the trials being conducted?”

“Yes, Your Highness,” Kibitz replied professionally, adjusting his glasses as he consulted the scroll. “According to the reports, there are four participants who have drawn considerable attention, particularly three of them, who have performed exceptionally well.”

“Three?” Celestia raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “That’s quite impressive. In other locations, the maximum has been two.”

Kibitz nodded, though his expression took on a more serious tone. “However, I must inform you that these results may not be entirely reliable. It seems there was an unexpected incident during the trials.”

Celestia’s gaze drifted momentarily to one of the grand windows in the hall, where a beam of sunlight filtered through, illuminating her ethereal mane. After a brief pause, she declared, “I see. If that’s the case, I believe it would be best for me to personally observe tomorrow’s trials. I need to ensure everything is under control.”

Author's Note

In his past life, Felix participated in several school competitions. Although he used tricks to adapt, he often finished in mediocre positions. Nonetheless, Anthony was always there to cheer him on, boosting his morale.

In the present, Echo faces a series of team trials. Unicorn and pegasus teams dominate thanks to their innate abilities, leaving the earth ponies at a significant disadvantage. Humiliated and defeated, the earth ponies lose all hope… until Echo has an idea.

During the final trial, “Capture the Flag,” Echo decides that if they can’t win, they should at least survive. Using his ingenuity, he creates decoy flags for his team to confuse the other teams. His strategy prolongs the competition, but ultimately, Flashing secures victory for his team, resulting in a three-way tie.

Meanwhile, Celestia receives reports about the trials, highlighting three particularly promising participants. Despite mixed news, she decides to personally oversee the next stage.

Fun Facts:

To streamline the narrative, some trials such as “Tug-of-War” and “Long Jump” were excluded. These trials would have further illustrated how earth ponies were repeatedly outperformed, emphasizing their disadvantage.

Thanks for reading!

Chapter 23: Echoes of doubt Part 8 - What always comes back

"This is ridiculous," I thought as Flashing continued dragging us toward the next trial.

With every step, I felt more trapped—not just physically but mentally. If it were just me, I probably wouldn’t care as much about the danger. I could endure it, pretend it didn’t affect me. But this time, it wasn’t just my life at stake. My sisters were here, and I couldn’t let anything happen to them.

Pinkie. Just thinking about her intensified my anxiety. She’s... special. It’s something deeper. If something happens to her, if something changes her irreversibly... the impact could be devastating—not just for our family, but for all of Equestria.

And yet, I couldn’t shake the question: are we really in danger?

The last trial was anything but a "trial of laughter." But if I think about it, with or without me, this event was going to happen anyway. Maybe all of this is just a coincidence, an unexpected detour along the way. Maybe the next trials won’t be as dangerous. But there’s the problem: I can’t be sure.

And then there’s the matter of the explosion.

Who was responsible? The star or Flashing? Either way, the result is the same: Flashing has the star now. He has control. And as long as he has control, we’re at his mercy. For now, his goal aligns with ours: to get out of here alive. But I’m not fooled; when the moment comes to choose between us or his personal ambition, I know exactly what decision he’ll make.

Our supplies are also an issue. We’ve got no water, and the food vanished in that mess with the rabbits. Sure, we could eat grass and flowers from the ground, but with the forest getting more twisted, I’d like to avoid it. Every passing minute brings us closer to having nothing.

How did we end up here?

These were just trials for foals. Trials! When did everything go so wrong? Oh, right—it was with those damn rabbits.

I lowered my head, a pang of guilt cutting through me. It all started with that small incident.

All because of that kick.

I would’ve said I was building my own path, but I didn’t expect it to veer into a series of events that led to us getting kidnapped!

All I was trying to do was keep Pinkie on course, trying to maintain balance, ensuring she didn’t stray from what I believed was her path. And now... look at us. One small act, so insignificant at the time, triggered a chain of events that brought us here.

How is that even possible?

Something so minor… how did it cause all this? That’s when Flashing began losing his patience. That’s when everything started to fall apart. And now we’re stuck, following an arrogant unicorn who’s manipulating us as he pleases.

The memory of the magical shockwave made me shudder. That explosion, that uncontrollable force that threw us against the trees... all of it over an argument.

"All because of one damn decision," I thought bitterly.

My self-loathing grew with each step. Why does it always feel like one small choice has such disproportionate consequences? Why can’t life be simpler? Not even in this world—this colorful, cheerful world—can I escape the same existential crises that haunted me before I was reborn.

My eyes drifted forward to Flashing, walking with such firm, determined steps.

While I hesitated, like I had on the bridge, he moved forward without trouble. He didn’t seem to worry about the consequences, didn’t seem to overthink every possible outcome. He just acted.

"What’s wrong with my mind?" I thought, frustration and despair swirling inside me. "Always thinking about every possibility, every detail, trying to predict what will happen. And still, I fail. I always fail."

I’d tried to push these thoughts away for days, but they always came back, like deep roots refusing to let go.

My damn tree of decisions.

It’s like I’m trapped in a mental forest where every decision creates new branches, new paths, new possibilities. And instead of moving forward, I get lost among the branches, unable to choose. Meanwhile, Flashing, with all his arrogance, just cuts his way through the forest. He doesn’t hesitate. He doesn’t question.

"He’s just a kid," I thought bitterly, gritting my teeth. "A couple of years older than me in this life. And yet, he’s got it all figured out. He knows exactly what he wants, while I..."

I stomped the ground in frustration, the impulse escaping before I could stop it.

"I’m stuck," I told myself. "Even with this second chance, I’m still the same mess I’ve always been. I keep hesitating, keep losing myself in the possibilities, while someone like Flashing moves ahead, leaving me behind."

The scream of frustration in my mind barely stayed trapped in my throat.

"I can’t decide," I thought, lowering my gaze. "I can’t keep doing this."

Flashing continued ahead, his figure growing smaller with each step, like a shadow pulling farther away while I remained trapped in my own mental chains. And I hated him for it—just as much as I hated myself.

I took a clumsy step that nearly sent me tumbling to the ground.

Looking down, I saw the culprit: a root sticking out, twisted as if deliberately placed there to trip me up. With a sigh of frustration, I moved my hoof, straightening myself slowly.

I glanced up at Flashing, who kept striding forward with his usual air of superiority. His steps were firm, his posture rigid, as if he were immune to exhaustion or the oppressive atmosphere around us.

“How much farther until the next trial?” I asked, my spirits already scraping the bottom of the barrel.

Flashing didn’t bother to stop. He looked up at the sky, pensive, as if calculating invisible distances in his head.

“We should be close,” he finally said. “The map shows an icon of a mirror. Based on the information I’ve gathered, this is the Trial of Honesty. Whatever we face will be subtle, barely noticeable, but it’ll dig into our secrets. Stay alert for anything unusual. Face it quickly, and we can move on to the trial that truly matters: Magic.”

I sighed, glancing around.

The forest remained unnerving, its gnarled trees and oppressive atmosphere pressing down on us. Yet there was something less threatening here than in the Trial of Laughter. Somehow, this place felt closer to the forest I knew back in Rockville, though denser and eerily alive.

A wave of nostalgia hit me for the settings of the earlier trials—those fictitious, illusory landscapes filled with vibrant colors and tangible magic. They may have been fake, but they had a comforting quality.

Now, everything felt more real… and far more dangerous.

“Everything is more complicated than it needs to be,” I thought bitterly. “It never goes the way I expect. That’s why I’m always thinking, but I never get it right.”

I took another step forward, only to be stopped again. I glanced down and saw another root tangled around my back hoof, as if the forest itself were trying to hold me in place.

With some effort, I freed myself and kept moving, though I couldn’t shake the feeling that these roots weren’t natural.

Ahead, Flashing had slowed his pace.

“What’s the matter? Is the relentless pace finally getting to you?” I joked, trying to lighten the mood.

He simply stomped the ground hard and took a few more steps.

“It’s the ground,” he replied, clearly annoyed. “It’s soft, like there’s something beneath it. Keep walking.”

I raised an eyebrow, skeptical. I looked at the ground where he stepped, but it seemed perfectly solid and firm to me. I shook my head, dismissing the comment. Maybe his heavy stomps were weakening the soil.

As we pressed on, the roots seemed to multiply around me. With every step, a new one rose to tangle around my hooves. It was becoming harder and harder to move freely, and I found myself constantly stopping to free myself.

“Are we close yet?” Pinkie asked, her tone reflecting the weariness we were all starting to feel.

Flashing pulled the map from his satchel with his magic.

“We should be here already,” he said, stomping the ground again. A puff of dirt rose from the impact. “Damn soft ground.” Without another word, he continued forward.

Pinkamena and Maud exchanged glances but said nothing.

The group arrived at a small clearing in the forest, where the air felt charged with something invisible yet tangible, as if the very surroundings were feeding off their presence. The atmosphere shifted abruptly. The trees grew darker and taller, their twisted branches reaching toward them like eager claws.

Flashing was the first to enter, his haughty posture and unshakable stride unbothered by the subtle warnings around him. The ground beneath his hooves sank slightly, as if he were walking on unstable terrain. He grumbled impatiently but pressed on.

For Maud and Pinkamena, the change in the environment was barely noticeable. They walked with their usual calm, as if the forest couldn’t touch them.

But for Echo, the experience was entirely different.

Every step he took was a battle. The roots beneath him writhed and twisted, snaking around his hooves with an unsettling intent. He struggled to free himself, yanking one hoof free only to find another caught moments later.

“Echo, wait!” Pinkie called, turning back to him with clear concern. “What’s happening?”

“I don’t know!” Echo replied, frustration evident as he fought against the relentless roots.

The group stopped, their eyes fixed on him.

“This isn’t normal,” Maud remarked, her tone flat but carrying a subtle edge of alertness.

Flashing, irritated by the delay, turned toward them with an impatient glare. “Stop wasting time! This is just another part of the trial. It’s not real.”

“It doesn’t feel like an illusion!” Echo shouted, freeing one hoof only to have two more ensnared in the process.

Around him, the forest seemed to shift. The trees twisted further with each passing second, their grotesque forms casting shadows that moved as if alive. The roots below surged and grew wildly, wrapping around him with chaotic energy.

Every step Echo tried to take became more of a struggle.

"Echo, hold still for a moment," Maud said calmly as she approached. With precise movements, she began helping him free his hooves, ignoring the oppressive atmosphere surrounding them.

"We can't stop here!" Flashing exclaimed, snorting in exasperation. "The Trial of Honesty won't complete itself."

"Enough, Flashing!" Pinkamena shouted, her voice resonating with an unusual intensity. Her eyes burned with a mixture of anger and determination. "Can't you see something is happening here?"

Flashing rolled his eyes in annoyance but said nothing.

Meanwhile, the roots continued to grow, rising higher and thicker as if trying to swallow Echo whole.

With combined effort, Echo and Maud managed to tear him free from the roots that bound him, ripping them away as they resisted with unnatural vigor. Echo collapsed onto the ground, breathing heavily, his chest heaving with exhaustion.

For a brief moment, there was calm.

A moment that lasted far too short.

The Pie siblings instinctively stepped back, their eyes scanning the chaotic scene around them. The roots rose from every direction: bursting from the ground, snaking through the bushes, and hanging like serpents from the twisted branches above. The chaos seemed to multiply, enclosing them in a living labyrinth of wood.

"This isn't good," Echo muttered, his voice barely audible before feeling a root coil tightly around his foreleg.

With unexpected force, the root yanked him forward. Echo dug his hind hooves into the ground, resisting with all his might, but it was as though the forest itself refused to let him go.

Maud and Pinkie reacted in unison. Determined, they both lunged toward Echo, pulling on him as the root fought to drag him further away. Finally, with a final, desperate pull, they tore him free, sending all three tumbling to the ground in a mess of hooves and dirt.

"Flashing! We need to get out of here!" Echo shouted, turning toward where the unicorn had been.

But what he saw froze him in place. Flashing was being partially swallowed by the ground, his lower body sinking into what looked like quicksand.

With a growl, Flashing dug his forehooves into what remained of solid ground, straining to pull himself free. His face was smeared with dirt, but his expression remained one of absolute stubbornness.

"This is nothing for me," he said dismissively, standing up and surveying the chaotic landscape of roots and twisted trees. For the first time, his confidence faltered slightly.

Without waiting further, everyone started running.

The roots sprawled in every direction—some long and thin, others thick and sturdy—blocking their path as if the forest were intent on stopping them at all costs. Every step was a struggle as they dodged, stumbled, or tore through roots that tried to ensnare them.

"Come on, what are you waiting for? The exit must be close!" Flashing shouted from the front. His voice carried urgency as he took the lead, moving with determination... until his sprint came to an abrupt halt.

Flashing crashed headlong into a massive root that had risen in his path. The impact sent him stumbling backward, and he fell to the ground. His satchel flew off his back, landing with a heavy thud.

From the satchel, the star slipped out, its gleaming light catching everyone’s attention.

Echo's gaze locked onto it, but before he could move, he felt a violent tug on his hind hoof. A thick root had coiled around him, yanking him backward with relentless force.

"Echo!" Maud and Pinkie cried out in unison, their voices laced with panic.

Without hesitation, they rushed to him. Pinkie grabbed one of his forelegs, while Maud gripped the other, pulling with all their might as the roots tightened around him.

"I won’t let go!" Pinkie shouted, her voice fierce and determined. Her eyes shone with resolve, even as a root lashed across her cheek, leaving a red mark. Despite the pain, she refused to loosen her grip.

But the roots were unyielding. They multiplied and coiled tighter around Echo, dragging him farther away. Maud and Pinkie pulled with every ounce of strength they had, but it was futile.

"I can’t get free!" Echo yelled, his voice tinged with despair as the roots encased him up to his waist.

Finally, the roots won. With a final, powerful pull, they dragged Echo several meters away from his sisters.

"Echo!" they cried out again, chasing after him in desperation.

The roots, responding to their movement, began wrapping around Echo even faster. Within moments, they formed a tight sphere—a cocoon of twisting wood that encased him completely.

From inside, Echo caught one last glimpse through the gaps in the roots. He saw the desperate faces of his sisters, their outstretched hooves reaching for him, trying to pull him back.

"ECHOOOO!" Maud and Pinkie’s anguished cry echoed through the forest.

The last image Echo saw was his sisters sprinting toward him, their desperation etched into every step. Then, the roots closed in fully, plunging him into suffocating darkness.

The cocoon remained still, as if the forest had claimed it for itself.

Void.

All around me was an overwhelming, endless void of darkness. No ground beneath my hooves, no horizon, no light. Just an all-consuming silence that seemed to devour everything. I floated—or at least I thought I did. There was no point of reference, no anchor to tell me if I was moving or not.

"Hello?!" I shouted, my voice echoing into the emptiness, returning to me in a mocking reverberation. "Is anyone there? Anyone at all?!"

The echo faded, leaving behind the same oppressive silence.

"Arrgh," I growled, bringing my hooves to my head in frustration.

This wasn't part of the plan. None of this was. I just wanted to get through the day and move on. But, as always, nothing ever went as I expected. No matter how much I thought things through, analyzed, or prepared, something always spiraled out of control.

"Why?" I murmured, anger and sadness swirling inside me. "Why does everything bad happen so easily, while the good feels impossible to reach?"

I looked around, searching for something—anything. But there was only me, floating in a sea of uncertainty and darkness.

My thoughts drifted to my sisters. The last image I had of them, running toward me in desperation, was burned into my mind.

"Are they okay?" I wondered, my heart tightening. "I wish I could scream at them to forget about me and run, to take care of themselves. But… I don’t even know if they can hear me here."

The weight of uncertainty was crushing. I didn’t know what was happening outside this place, or even if this was supposed to happen. Just like I didn’t know what caused the explosion, what the star represented, or why I was in this world in the first place.

My mind screamed for answers, but I had none. I just wanted to scream.

And then, something interrupted the void.

"I want to be a… a teacher."

My eyes snapped open, blinking in confusion. The voice echoed faintly, like a whisper in the darkness.

"Hello?" I called out, my heartbeat quickening. "Who’s there? I need help over here!"

"I could teach the next generation! Maybe they’d even call me professor… it sounds funny."

"What are you talking about?" I asked, a mix of confusion and desperation creeping into my voice.

"But… teachers don’t earn much, do they? And What if I have to deal with difficult parents…?"

A chill ran down my spine. That voice… it was familiar.

Then, from another direction, the same voice spoke again.

"I want to be a musician. Tour the world!"

I stood frozen, listening as it continued.

"But… what if no one gives me a chance? What if I end up playing on street corners for spare change?"

The discomfort turned to horror as I recognized the voice.

It was mine.

"That’s… my voice?" I whispered, my mind struggling to process what was happening.

The voice echoed again, this time from yet another direction.

"Then I’ll be a doctor. They make a lot of money, and the job is secure. But… if I fail a surgery, I could get sued. I could lose everything."

Suddenly, my voice began to multiply. Scientist, mechanic, builder, carpenter, animator, veterinarian. Every option, every possibility, every path I had ever considered reverberated around me with growing intensity.

The words overlapped, clashing and repeating the pros and cons of each decision, forming a deafening cacophony that filled the void.

"Shut up!" I shouted, my voice drowning in the noise. "Stop it! JUST STOP!"

The voices didn’t relent. They were too many, an unstoppable torrent of my own thoughts and insecurities.

"Leave me alone," I screamed, my voice breaking. "Please, just stop!"

Finally, I gathered all the air I could muster and screamed with all my might:

"STOOOOP!"

The echo of my scream reverberated through the void, and as if it had heard me, the voices ceased.

Tranquility returned, but it was no comfort. It only made room for something else.

In front of me, a mist began to form, swirling slowly until it shaped itself into the figure of a pony. A silhouette my size emerged, gradually becoming more defined.

It was me.

"That’s me," I murmured, incredulous.

I lifted a hoof, and the figure mirrored me instantly, like a reflection. But its face was different… unsettling.

Then it spoke.

"I’m pathetic."

The statement struck me like a hammer.

"What?" I whispered, unable to look away.

"You gave it your all," it continued, its voice cold and cutting, "but you couldn’t stand against the unicorns and pegasi. Despite having a second chance, despite remembering your past life, you lost to a bunch of children. How humiliating."

"Stop joking!" I yelled, my voice trembling. "My sisters need me. Let me out!"

"Out?" The figure tilted its head mockingly. "For what? To keep being a burden? A few simple rabbits defeated you. Because of you, your family was put in danger, nearly buried alive."

"That doesn’t matter now!" I shouted, stepping forward. "It all worked out in the end. Just let me go!"

"It would’ve been better if you’d forgotten everything," it went on, its voice gaining strength. "At least then, we wouldn’t be trapped in this curse of overthinking every decision, every possibility, never moving forward."

My hooves trembled. I didn’t want to admit it, but those words struck something deep within me.

The figure took a step closer, its foggy eyes gleaming.

"I can feel it," it said. "Out of everyone here, you’re the worst. The most chaotic, the weakest. And you brought us here. You created all of this, Echo. Or should I say… Felix?"

The sound of my old name sent a chill through my blood.

"We’ve always been like this, Felix, always," the shadowy figure that resembled me stated. "But do you want to know where it all went wrong?"

I recoiled, already knowing where this was going. "No… don’t you dare."

"Come on. Don’t you want to see Anthony one more time?" it teased, as everything around me began to shift and change.

Celestia soared above the forest, her majestic wings slicing through the air with precision as she traced the path taken by the chosen participants. Her gaze was fixed on the terrain below, scanning every detail for signs of progress or obstacles faced by the test takers.

She reached the first checkpoint: the location where the initial trial was supposed to take place. Here, an illusory mountain was meant to mark the entrance to a cave, the stage for a crucial test of the participants’ will. But as Celestia descended and landed on the ground, she found an empty clearing. The mountain was gone.

Intrigued, she stepped forward.

Near the center of the clearing lay a long, gleaming crystal, placed carefully as if someone had deliberately left it there. Celestia examined it closely, her curiosity piqued.

A faint smile crossed her lips as she recalled the initial reports. One of the participants had particularly excelled in this trial.

"It seems," Celestia thought, leaning down toward the crystal, "someone figured out the mountain was just an illusion. They must have taken it, thinking it was a key piece, only to realize later it wasn’t meant to be moved."

With a gentle motion of her hoof, she nudged the crystal aside, ensuring it wouldn’t hinder anyone coming through later.

Raising her gaze, she unfurled her wings and ascended once more, resuming her flight.

Not long after, Celestia arrived at the second checkpoint. This was supposed to be the site of the Generosity trial, where a calm and patient golem asked participants to sacrifice something of personal value as part of the challenge. However, what she found was a completely different scene.

The golem was far from the serene creature that was meant to embody Generosity. Instead, it moved frantically, ripping trees from the ground with violent motions and piling them into a chaotic mound like hoarded trophies. Every action radiated greed and loss of control.

Celestia landed on the ground and furrowed her brow.

Even the golem’s form had changed. Once smooth and rounded, its edges were now jagged and sharp, exuding danger. Its movements, once deliberate and composed, were erratic as if something had corrupted it from within.

"This shouldn’t be happening," Celestia murmured, her horn glowing with a golden light that illuminated the area.

With a single beam of magic, she shattered the golem. It crumbled into a shower of glittering fragments, dissipating along with the illusory environment around it. What remained was the true landscape of Rockville’s forest: ordinary trees, a carpet of dry leaves, and the crisp air of an undisturbed woodland.

Celestia cautiously approached the spot where the golem had stood. Among the remains of the illusion, she found another crystal, similar to the one she had seen in the first trial. But this one was different.

The crystal radiated wild energy, with glowing cracks pulsing as if it was about to explode. Celestia examined it carefully, her eyes narrowing as she tried to decipher what had gone wrong.

With a delicate touch of her horn, she sent a magical wave into the crystal, dissipating the overload of energy. The cracks dimmed one by one, leaving the crystal gray and inert, as ordinary as a piece of stone.

Celestia held the crystal in her hooves for a moment, her expression grave.

"Something is interfering with the trials," she murmured to herself. "This isn’t a simple malfunction. It’s an overload."

Her concern deepened. She stowed the crystal and spread her wings once more, taking flight with a renewed sense of urgency.

"The foals are in danger," she thought as she picked up speed. "I must reach them before it’s too late."

The forest below her grew darker and more twisted with every passing moment. The feeling of unease mounted with each meter she covered. What had begun as a carefully designed series of tests to evaluate the character and virtues of young ponies was now transforming into something unpredictable and potentially deadly.

Celestia flew faster, determined to uncover the source of this corruption before it could cause further harm.

Author's Note

As the group makes their way to the next trial, Echo’s past doubts begin to resurface. Although he had tried to suppress them after the camp, the recent events have rekindled the uncertainty he thought he had buried.

The Trial of Honesty, like the Trial of Laughter, has been dangerously amplified due to the earlier explosion. This time, both Echo and Flashing are affected, but the anomaly soon centers on its most vulnerable target: Echo.

Wild roots begin to grow uncontrollably, wrapping around Echo and trapping him inside a cocoon made of his own doubts and existential crises.

Inside, Echo finds himself floating in a dark void, surrounded by echoes of every choice he’s ever made—or failed to make. Every possibility, every path, reverberates around him, intensifying his feelings of inadequacy.

His shadow materializes, taunting him with his perceived failures and regrets.

Meanwhile, Celestia races toward the group, moving through the earlier trials. She discovers that one trial had been accidentally deactivated by Echo, while the next one has been dangerously overloaded due to the explosion’s chaotic magic.

Fun Facts:

The roots in the Trial of Honesty reflect Echo’s internal “tree of decisions,” a symbol of his overanalyzing nature. For Flashing, the entity traps him in the earth—a representation of his fear of being stuck at the bottom despite his aspirations to reach the top. Ultimately, the trial focuses on Echo, as his internal struggles are the most consuming.

Thanks for reading!

Chapter 2: Foundations of a new life

It’s been a week since I arrived at the house, and finally, the exhaustion that had me napping all day seems to be easing up. At last, I have the energy to tackle a pressing issue that’s been circling my mind since I first opened my eyes in this new life. I needed to answer one crucial question: What do I look like now? My body, my appearance.

Being a newborn with limited mobility—and constantly swaddled so tightly that escape was impossible—I hadn’t been able to figure it out until today.

I’d been left in a crib in the corner of a spacious room, likely my parents’ bedroom. Around me were a large bed, some nightstands, and a wardrobe. Each piece of furniture looked handmade—or hoofmade, to be more precise. But what caught my attention most was the mirror. Positioned perfectly, it reflected my crib, and finally, I’d get to see myself.

Taking advantage of the fact that my two “twin” sisters were sound asleep, I leaned toward the edge of the crib and fixed my gaze on the mirror. The image staring back at me was… unexpected, to say the least.

My eyes were large and bright, framed by cyan-colored fur. Yes, cyan. Subtlety, it seemed, was not going to be my strong suit here. As if that weren’t enough, a pink mane tumbled in messy tufts over my head.

“Pink?” I muttered internally, though it came out as nothing more than a faint gurgle.

I examined my reflection more closely, hoping for some sort of optical illusion or misunderstanding. But no. The truth stared back at me: a combination of blue and pink—two colors I never would’ve chosen in my past life. I tried not to judge myself, but this combo felt like reincarnation’s way of saying, “Surprise! This time you’re going to be adorable… and girly.”

“Go to hell, universe,” I screamed internally.

Curiosity got the better of me, and I inspected myself further. I glanced from my reflection to my actual body, poking and prodding to confirm my suspicions. A wave of relief swept over me—I was still a boy. A boy who looked like a girl, but still, a boy.

“Is this a joke? Even my stupid pink tail looks like cotton candy. Double hell to you, universe,” I mentally shouted, raising a metaphorical fist in defiance.

I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to process the situation. In my old life, this might’ve caused a full-blown identity crisis. Now, however, it felt more like a cosmic joke—a reminder that this reincarnation wasn’t going to make anything easy for me. I took a deep breath and reminded myself that, above all, I’m a survivor. The universe could throw whatever it wanted my way; I’d just throw it right back.

Opening my eyes again, I resigned myself to the sight of this adorable… colt? (or whatever they’re called here) with pastel blue and pink fur staring back at me. I smirked wryly. If I was going to survive this time around, maybe it was time to start laughing at how ridiculous life could be.

With a sigh of resignation, I flopped back into the crib. One thing was clear: someone, somewhere in a higher plane, was having way too much fun at my expense. I’m a horse—and to top it off, one that looks like a filly. As I grumbled to myself, my sister Pinkamena shifted in her sleep, her equally pink mane falling across my face like a fluffy curtain.

A month has passed since I discovered, much to my misfortune, what I look like. During this time, I’ve been carried from place to place in my parents’ hooves.

Today, they set me down on the floor, encouraging me to crawl toward them with their hooves outstretched. Their faces were expectant, almost blank in their anticipation. I decided to play along. During the first few attempts, I feigned ignorance about what I was supposed to do. After all, this is a big moment for parents—you’ve got to warm up the audience for the main event.

By the third attempt, I dropped the act and shuffled toward them. There’s no need to point out that my plan was a smashing success. I even think I saw a tear glimmer in my father’s eye… or at least, I hope I did. It’s hard to say for sure.

What surprised me most was the strange sensation of moving freely for the first time—albeit in a way that was unsettlingly… quadrupedal. Crawling on all fours is natural for babies, sure, but now, as a pony, this would be my standard mode of walking.

My movements were clumsy and primitive, but they left me with one sobering thought: I was going to miss being bipedal.

Putting aside my depressing memories of being human and now living as a pony, there’s something curious I’ve noticed: despite everything, we don’t seem to be struggling financially. When we eat in the living room around the wooden table, there’s usually decent food on the plates. That said, I’ve occasionally seen them nibble on what appears to be actual rocks—as casually as one might eat bread. I suppose these "rocks" are just some kind of local food that happens to look like stones. Still, setting aside the edible geology, it does make me wonder: how do we sustain ourselves when the farm, as far as I can tell, is just a collection of rocks and stones of varying sizes, with no sprawling crop fields in sight?

For now, I’ll shelve that question for later.

Another interesting thing is how much they talk to me these days. I’ve entertained the idea of responding with something outrageous like “I know what you did last summer” or “Feed your dark lord, mortal!” just to see their reactions. It would be hilarious, no doubt. But… I’d rather not start off on the wrong hoof. There could be repercussions that I’m too lazy to deal with, so sticking to silence for now seems like the wiser, albeit duller, choice.

It’s been about five months since I arrived in this strange world. By now, it feels like home, though I’ll admit I’m still getting used to this adorable, pint-sized version of myself. What’s impressed me most, however, is the peculiar family dynamic I’ve observed. The atmosphere here is warm, even if it often feels serious. My parents have a unique style that doesn’t quite fit the typical image of farmers.

My father, Igneous, is... intriguing. In his presence, it’s like everyone instinctively moves with a little more care. He’s serious, composed, and every word he speaks seems measured—delivered with the precision of someone who rehearsed it beforehand. He’s not the type to smother you with hugs or sweet words, but his actions make it clear he cares. He has this strange way of being distant yet undeniably present. While he rarely shows emotion, there are these subtle, almost microscopic gestures—like the faintest nod or the smallest twitch of a smile—that reveal he’s not as stoic as he seems. He’s firm, but deep down, he’s affectionate in his own way. His approval is often communicated through a single glance or a silent nod.

My mother, Cloudy, is similar to him, but a little more open. She shares his calmness and firmness but is the first to let her guard down when we’re alone. She kneels to our level, speaking to us in soft whispers, and there’s a warmth in her voice that’s impossible to miss. Her expression might be reserved, but every now and then, there’s a glimmer in her eyes that says more than words ever could. Still, she’s serious and no-nonsense, just like my father.

Then there are my sisters. They’re still young, so it’s hard to know exactly how they’ll turn out, but here’s my early assessment:

Limestone Pie, the eldest, is the one with the killer glare. She’s the least patient of us all and seems to be the family’s tough one. I wouldn’t be surprised if she grows up to be the type who throws a punch first and asks questions later—or someone who wouldn’t hesitate to jump into a fight to protect someone she cares about. It’s too soon to say for sure, but she’s got that vibe.

Next is Maudileena Daisy Pie. She’s the calm in the middle of the storm. Reserved, perhaps even a bit distant, she often watches others with quiet curiosity. There’s something oddly comforting about her tranquil presence. Honestly, I like her already. Her calm, expressionless demeanor makes my own laid-back attitude seem less out of place. I barely know her, but she’s already my favorite.

Then there’s Pinkamena Diane Pie, the pink one who shares shades of our rosier mane colors. For now, she’s just a typical baby—though she has this habit of hanging her head low, with her straight mane covering her face, which gives her a rather gloomy appearance. That’s about it for now.

Marble Pie is the penultimate member of the family—and older than me by a whole twelve minutes. She’s the shyest and most timid of us all, often looking like she’s about to cry at the slightest provocation. She’s the one who cries the most, by far.

And finally, there’s me: Echorellian Crumble Pie, the youngest of the family and the only colt.

What a set of names, huh? For some reason, my parents are obsessed with rocks, to the point of naming us after them—sometimes with dessert-related puns thrown in. Except for Pinkamena, of course. Honestly, I didn’t understand why they gave me such an elaborate name, Echorellian, until I broke it down: Ech-ore-llian. Really? When I figured it out, I couldn’t help but laugh. What a ridiculous name.

Still, this family dynamic fascinates me. With everything that’s happened—dying, reincarnating, a new life and body—taking a moment to observe what I have in front of me feels like a breath of fresh air. Lately, though, there’s something oddly familiar about them, about this place. I just can’t quite put my hoof on it yet.

Something about this world always seems to hover at the edge of my memory, like a word I’m trying to recall or an image just out of reach. Everything here—the colorful ponies, the storybook landscapes, the peculiar names—feels eerily familiar, like a memory I can’t fully grasp. Most of the time, I can brush it off, but there are moments when it lingers, a persistent shadow in the corners of my mind. It feels like there’s something I’m meant to understand, something I’ve seen before... but where?

Sometimes, I wonder if all of this is just a string of coincidences or if it’s some fragment of an old memory left behind in my previous life. Maybe I knew these ponies, these places, in some forgotten part of my past, but I have no way of knowing. For now, I’ll keep moving forward, though I can’t shake the suspicion that there’s something important my mind has locked away.

I try to remember, to untangle the threads of familiarity. But it’s always the same: a whisper in my mind, a sensation slipping away just as I feel I’m about to grasp it.

“Maybe one day I’ll remember,” I tell myself, though it’s not like I have much choice but to live here and see what time reveals. This life, strange as it is, is mine now, and if that spark of familiarity ever becomes clearer, I’ll be ready to face it.

Until then, this mystery is just another item on my growing list of things to worry about later—a list that’s starting to pile up.

Today’s the day! I was finally allowed outside the house. Granted, I’m still being carried underhoof and carefully watched, but hey, it’s something! I can finally take a proper look at the world beyond my house since I first arrived.

The scenery hasn’t changed much since the last time I caught a glimpse. I sighed, taking it all in. Just a few feet from the front door, I was being held securely by my mother alongside Pinkamena, while Marble snoozed peacefully in her crib inside the house.

Curiosity got the better of me as I tried to make sense of the work that puts food on the table here. Maybe the last time I saw the fields, they had already harvested, or something like that (not that I know the first thing about farming). Yet, as I scanned the land, it was just as I remembered—fields covered in rocks, bordered by a wooden fence.

To my surprise, I saw my father out in the fields, working. He was using his head to move rocks from one place to another, piling them onto a cart already loaded with stones of various shapes and sizes.

I suspected it might be time to clear the fields for planting crops. Could it be corn? Apples? Berries? Vegetables?

My father approached us after placing a large rock by the cart, which was nearly overflowing with stones. He stopped to speak with my mother, and when he noticed me watching, he gave a brief nod of acknowledgment before returning to their conversation.

“—The rock harvest has been decent this year,” he said in his usual solemn tone, though there was a faint undertone of concern. “But we’re still far from covering this month’s expenses. The stones are varied and of good quality, but we’ll need more, especially with our family growing.”

My mother nodded with a sigh, her expression a mix of understanding and resignation. “I know, dear. Let’s hope the next season brings a fruitful stone.” Her words were filled with hope, albeit a hope tinged with stubborn determination. The phrase “fruitful stone” sounded odd, but in their voices, it felt as natural as if they were talking about apples or wheat.

With a resigned tone, my father added, “For now, we have no other choice. We’ll have to double down on work over the next couple of weeks, at least for the two of us.” He glanced at my sister, who was yawning and on the verge of dozing off. “They’re still far too young to move even a pebble,” he remarked, giving me a light tap on the belly with his hoof.

My ears perked up, straining to catch every word. The scene felt surreal, like something out of a bizarre parody: a family of pony farmers discussing a rock harvest. Rocks? An incredulous, bewildered thought shot through me. Rocks!? Could it be? Were we actually on a rock farm?

The realization hit me like a hammer, leaving me momentarily speechless.

"ROCKS?!" I screamed internally, a dizzying wave of disbelief crashing over me as my thoughts spiraled out of control. How could a farm exist where the primary “crop” was… stones? I wanted to reject the very idea, but then all the little details started falling into place like pieces of some absurd puzzle: the times my parents mentioned the “good stones” of the year, the decorations in the house that weren’t flowers or colorful paintings but meticulously stacked or intricately carved rocks. Even one of our “toys” was a smooth, round stone with comically painted eyes—apparently a family heirloom passed down through generations.

Was this real? I didn’t want to believe it… but the evidence was impossible to ignore. The house was practically a shrine to rocks. Every corner had some kind of mineral display: polished stones, carved figures, or just plain, unassuming boulders. Outside, instead of lush green fields, there was only an expanse of rocks of all shapes and sizes. From dull gray pebbles to sparkling shards of crystalline quartz, and larger, smoother stones that looked as if they’d been carefully handpicked.

I whispered to myself, almost in resignation, “Rocks? Rock farming?” The realization sank in like a heavy weight pressing on my mind. Watching my father continue his work, moving rocks with complete focus and dedication, I began to understand: for them, this was completely normal.

Had I mentioned how ridiculous things were getting? Because this—this—was easily the most ridiculous thing I’d ever witnessed in either of my lives. And that’s saying a lot.

But what did it mean? Rock farmer?

Welcome to your new life, Echo, I thought, caught somewhere between resignation and a bizarre sense of fascination.

Author's Note

Echo takes a good look at his appearance.

Living together for a short time has given him his first real glimpse of his large, peculiar family.

He’s just uncovered his harsh reality: being a rock farmer.

Fun fact: While writing this part, I found myself debating Echo’s gender—whether to make him a mare or a stallion. To help decide, I made a comparative outline:

If Echo were a mare: The story would lean more into comedy, with funny moments where she’d get annoyed whenever this was brought up.

If Echo were a stallion: It would open the door to a future romance plot. (Yes, I know it could be mare-with-mare, but I like balance, and I’m not particularly experienced with writing romance—or any romance, to be honest—so I leaned toward the more classic option of boy-meets-girl for simplicity’s sake.)

Ultimately, I decided to take the best of both worlds: a stallion with a mare-like appearance, combining comedy and the potential for romance.

Thank you for reading!

Chapter 3: A decision tree

The discovery that our farm revolves around rocks left me stunned and, oddly enough, opened my eyes to an entirely new perspective. It’s baffling. I mean, how is a rock farm even a thing? Shouldn’t we be miners instead of farmers? But you know what? I’m just going to roll with it. It’s probably some cultural quirk or something unique to this pony world.

But what really caught my attention was something else: apparently, things aren’t going as smoothly as they might seem. I mean, they just had triplets all at once—understandable, right? My parents maintain a calm, stoic demeanor most of the time, which could easily fool someone into thinking everything’s fine. However, it’s no secret that we’re not exactly in an ideal situation. Every now and then, I overhear snippets of conversations about working harder, though they never outright mention bills or finances in front of us.

With my parents working such long hours, they often carry us in baby slings on their backs while they move rocks from one place to another, or they leave us nearby in a cart, or back in the crib in their room. I suppose we’re still too young for daycare. Occasionally, one of our grandparents—usually one of our grandmothers—steps in to help care for all five of us.

And this got me thinking. We’re not exactly struggling, but we’re not thriving either. We’re stuck in that middle ground so typical for farms, where good and bad seasons ebb and flow like the tide. This little peek into our situation made me realize something: in this life, I can’t just sit around doing nothing. I have to act; I have to move forward. I mentally scolded myself for not thinking of this sooner. I’ve already wasted six precious months. Sure, I’m still not even a year old, so there’s plenty of time to reflect and plan my next steps.

This brings me to one of the biggest questions that haunted me in my previous life: what should I do with my life? Back then, this question was like an endless chain of ideas branching in every direction, never leading to a clear answer. I’d reflect endlessly, caught in loops of indecision, and in the end, I’d go nowhere.

But now it’s different. Now, in this new opportunity, I can tackle this question from the very beginning, at a young age. If I can reach a conclusion early, maybe this time I can build a better life.

And the key to finding an answer is… a decision tree!

I remember, back in my old life, trying something similar when I was much younger. It was a crude attempt—just a list of pros and cons that didn’t get me anywhere. But now I’m older (mentally) and more aware of the consequences, benefits, and drawbacks of each choice. This time, I’ll create a full decision tree, with every possible branch mapped out, analyzing and defining each step.

This tree will be my guide. By exploring every option and its consequences, I’ll be able to choose my path with clarity and avoid getting stuck in the same cycles of indecision. Maybe, just maybe, this rock farming life has given me the chance to start fresh, and I’m not about to waste it.

Is it weird to get excited about making a decision tree? Of course not! Who wouldn’t feel that spark of excitement when realizing every choice could define their future? It’s that unique feeling, like when you’re a kid and the world feels full of open doors. As you grow older, those doors seem to start closing, limiting your options… but here and now, I have all the doors in front of me, wide open and waiting. For the first time, it feels like I have a real shot at deciding my future. And that, of course, is thrilling.

Today, my mother, Cloudy Quartz, is looking after us in the living room. She’s given us a bit of freedom to roam around while she goes over some papers and calculates expenses at the table. This is my moment; with some free space and fresh ideas in my head, I’m ready to start developing my decision tree.

Handling anything with this new body is a challenge, and honestly, not having hands has been an unexpected obstacle. At first, I used my mouth to grab things—not ideal, but it worked. However, over the past few weeks, I’ve been experimenting with something more advanced: picking up objects with my hooves. I’ve watched my parents do it so effortlessly that I felt inspired. I still don’t fully understand how it works—maybe it’s some kind of magnetic attraction or even magic. If it’s the latter, then it means magic does exist here! Sure, besides the obvious fact that we’re all talking ponies, everything so far has been surprisingly physical with no overt signs of magic. Still, hope is alive! Maybe when I start school, they’ll explain the mystery behind these magnetic hooves.

I’ve been practicing with tiny objects, and I’m starting to manage holding lightweight things between my hooves—though only for brief moments before they slip and fall. For now, I have to rely on using them like stumps. It’s not ideal, but it’ll do for what I plan to do today.

With my goal in mind, I take the first step toward my destination: it’s time to start my decision tree! Every branch represents a choice, and every choice, a possibility. I feel this burning desire to take control of this life and make it truly count.

Because this time… I won’t let things decide themselves.

Two hours later…

“Damn it!” I shout internally. The wooden floor is now covered in lines, notes, and diagrams detailing every branch of my decision tree, complete with pros and cons scribbled in every corner. I’ve analyzed each option from different angles, breaking down every aspect, but I keep running into the same wall.

As I try to keep my sisters away from my masterpiece, I manage to distract the younger ones easily enough by handing them a rock or a wooden block to play with. It’s a bit trickier with the older ones. For Maudileena, I subtly redirected her attention toward the other two. That seemed to do the trick, and she wandered off to join them. Limestone was surprisingly easier—giving her the “family toy rock” somehow earned me her temporary peace offering.

With no further distractions, I refocused on what I have right now: the farm. My family owns extensive land and several structures like the cabin we live in, mills, and barns. Of course, since this is a rock farm, most of the land is inhospitable—just stretches of rocky terrain dotted with caves and quarries where we extract minerals and crystals. And while we have all this land, the farm is far removed from any urban center, and the soil isn’t good for much else… well, besides rocks.

Which having caves, mines and quarries full of precious minerals and rocks sounds pretty good but it makes me think, if we have all that why don't we live in a mansion? Plus the conversations I overheard about the ups and downs... just another thing to add to the list of worries and doubts that I'll address later.

I can’t rely on the farm always being here as a safety net. It’s been passed down through generations, sure, but it’s not impossible to lose it, however unlikely that might be. Besides, I’m not even sure it’s something I’d want to dedicate my life to. It’s a calm and relatively uncomplicated life, but it demands constant effort and leaves us at the mercy of the seasons. I’m not sure how that works with a rock farm, but I’ve overheard my parents voicing concerns about it.

After establishing the farm as my starting point, I began branching out my options. One possibility is the arts. I could try becoming a writer, painter, sculptor, or maybe even a singer, musician, or actor. The arts appeal to me; they feel like a space where I could find inner peace. But realistically, it’s also a highly competitive and uncertain field. Even if I became good at one discipline, success often depends more on public opinion than actual quality, and the risk of it not being financially sustainable is high. I’d need constant practice to stand out, and even then, luck would play a huge role.

Then there’s the competitive and academic path, which offers the potential for good pay and stability. This includes fields like math, science, medicine, and civil engineering. Technology seems limited here—there’s no sign of programming or systems engineering. An academic career would be a safer bet for income, and it also has an intellectual calmness to it; analyzing everything is something I do regularly. But I can’t ignore what I saw in my past life. I had siblings who pursued this route, and while they succeeded, the physical and mental toll was brutal. They wore themselves down with the relentless pace of study, aging ten years in five.

And that’s when I realized something important about this second chance: I don’t want to repeat a life of constant sacrifice and stress just to secure income or stability that could crumble at any moment. In my previous life, that pressure robbed me of time, and I died without ever finding something that truly made me feel alive.

But it’s not like I can live aimlessly either. I need to plan ahead, to build my future piece by piece, crafting a life that’s free from constant worry.

Argh! I hate this. Every time I follow one of the branches, I end up in the same place, as if all the paths are just endless loops.

Take acting, for example. I could start right now by putting on small performances. Fame would be fun, exciting, and liberating. But it also comes with the risk of being stuck in this village, unable to move forward, forever at the mercy of public opinion. One slip-up could end everything, leaving me constantly paranoid about every move I make.

Then there’s the logical path—science, for instance. It could provide good income and respect. But it’s also a life entirely devoted to theories and experiments, haunted by the constant fear of making a mistake that impacts not just my life but others as well. What if something goes wrong? A dangerous artifact? An accident?

Each choice feels like a trap in its own way.

From where I stand now, I’d love to try everything. Be an explorer and adventurer, traveling through this new world, uncovering its wonders and secrets. Be an inventor, building things that benefit others, using the knowledge from my previous life. I’d also love to tell stories—exciting and fantastical ones—or share the incredible tales of my old world, where centuries of imagination created myths, legends, and ideas that deserve to be heard here.

But all these options lead me to the same realization. Each has its advantages and drawbacks, and a single mistake could bring everything crashing down. Life, as I know all too well, isn’t infinite. I can’t do everything. I can only pick one path, and deep down, I fear that choosing one will close the door to all the others.

I’ve been reincarnated, sure, but that doesn’t guarantee I’ll have another chance—or, if I do, that I’ll keep my memories intact the next time.

With a sigh, I let my thoughts drift away. “If only life were much longer… then I could truly do it all.”

While I was lost in thought, I forgot one critical thing. Right now, I’m just a colt, sitting amidst scattered notes and sketches spread across the floor. And right next to me is my mother. She had been focused on calculating expenses earlier, but a sound behind me must have caught her attention.

I give a small jolt as I glance over my shoulder. My mother is standing there, still and silent, observing the mess of notes I’ve made.

Oh no! How am I supposed to explain that her six-month-old foal is making detailed notes, sketches, and decision trees without ever having spoken a word?

I could pretend to be some sort of child prodigy, but the last thing I need is that kind of attention. Wait—does this technically make me a prodigy? Compared to other ponies my age, I guess I wouldn’t be wrong to think so. No, no, I can’t go down that road of thought; it’s just too self-important. Focus, Echo. Think.

What does a baby do when caught doing something they’re not supposed to? Act like a baby!

With no other options, I look up at my mother with the biggest, brightest eyes I can muster. Then, I kick one of the papers with my hoof and start babbling nonsense like “goo-gaa” while scattering some notes around—doing my best to make it look like the mess of a curious baby!

My mother stares at me, one eyebrow raised as if trying to piece together what strange puzzle of scribbles lies before her. After a few seconds, her expression softens. She sighs and shakes her head, muttering:

“Well, I guess you like your little papers, huh?”

I nod enthusiastically, thrilled that my baby act is working. Who cares if I was philosophizing about the meaning of life a minute ago? Suddenly, a mischievous idea strikes me. I grab another piece of paper and put it in my mouth, pretending it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“Oh no, don’t eat that!” she says, quickly snatching the paper away from me.

Luckily, she doesn’t bother looking at what’s written on the notes. She’s clearly stressed after spending hours calculating the farm’s accounts and managing four other foals.

Mission accomplished.

Three days have passed since I was almost exposed as a glitch in the universe. And no, I’m not sabotaging myself. See, I’ve had plenty of time to think this through, and let’s face it—if I truly reincarnated, I should have lost my memories and started fresh, with no traces of my past life. Instead, I remember everything with perfect clarity. If that doesn’t make me some kind of cosmic anomaly, I don’t know what does.

After the “incident,” I’ve been doing my best to keep a low profile. I nearly panicked when, during dinner, my mother started telling everyone about the “strange” moment she found me surrounded by drawings. Thankfully, she told it as a harmless little anecdote, like one of those sweet “baby artist” stories.

Relieved that I escaped discovery—for now—I’ve decided to try something new today. Our paternal grandmother is babysitting us at home again, which gives me a bit of freedom. It’s the perfect time to do something I’ve been meaning to try. The decision tree didn’t give me any concrete answers, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t useful things to do while I figure out my purpose. One of them: studying. So, I make my way to the bookshelf in the living room.

This is the first step in uncovering the secrets of this new world. I can only imagine the wonders waiting to be unearthed in these books. I might be the only one from my old world to ever see the treasures of this land. It’s exhilarating!

I pick the most accessible book from the floor. After a bit of struggle, I manage to place it in front of me and open it with both forehooves—a maneuver requiring far more precision than I expected. And there it is… my first glimpse at the written words of this world.

But… it’s a book about rocks.

Confused, I decide to give the bookshelf another chance. I grab another book. This one is also about… rocks? I keep trying for a while, and every single book turns out to be about stones, minerals, rock varieties… Eventually, I give up. I should’ve seen this coming. After all, we’re rock farmers. Another point for my growing tally of self-inflicted disappointments.

Still, there’s something useful in all of this: I’ve discovered the language here is nearly identical to my own—both spoken and written! It’s as if I’ve hit the infinite-reality jackpot by landing in a world so similar to mine, while retaining all my memories. This is reaching cosmically absurd levels. Whoever designed my reincarnation did a terrible job, but hey, I’ll make the most of it!

“Muahahaha!” I let out a quiet, triumphant laugh, trying not to alert anyone while savoring this moment of pure euphoria. How is it possible that in a completely different universe… the language is the same? Even the writing!

But just as this monumental realization sinks in, the door of possibility slams shut with the reminder that every book on this shelf is dedicated to rocks. Calcite, granite, moonstones, geodes… I didn’t even know there were this many kinds of rocks! My excitement turns to disappointment, though I take it as an important reminder: I’m on a rock farm. My family’s livelihood revolves around them.

Still, this little excursion isn’t a complete waste. Maybe I didn’t find ancient wisdom, but at least I’ve got a starting point. If I can learn about this world using what’s available—even if it’s just rocks—it might eventually lead me to something more interesting.

I pick up one of the books I had knocked over, sit down cross-legged, and start with the first page. "Rocks are the building blocks of the earth, formed over millions of years through pressure, heat, and chemical processes," I mutter under my breath.

I squint at the next sentence. "Each mineral within a rock contributes unique properties, such as hardness, color, and luster. Granite, for example, is composed mainly of quartz, feldspar, and mica."

*touch* *touch*

I flinch slightly, startled. I’d gotten so absorbed in the reading that I didn’t notice someone else approaching. Turning my head, I find Maudileena standing there, her gaze fixed… not on me, but on the book.

We remain in silence for a few seconds. Then, deciding to act, I grab another rock book from the pile scattered on the floor and hold it out to her.

She takes it without hesitation, nods at me, and opens it to the first page. She seems content with this—at least, I think so. I could swear she made the faintest hint of a smile.

With that settled, I suppose there’s nothing to worry about. Back to reading… about rocks. I let out a quiet sigh before diving back into the text.

Author's Note

This marks the beginning of Echo’s “Decision Tree,” which will play a bigger role in the future.

I hope Echo’s internal struggle about which path to take came through clearly here.

Echo narrowly avoided being discovered, but let’s be honest—managing five foals and balancing farm accounts is so draining that no one would pay much attention to a baby’s scribbles.

As for the books: they’re rock farmers. It makes sense that their library is full of geology books.

Also, this is the starting point for Maud’s fascination with rocks.

Thanks for reading!

Chapter 4: ¿Pinkie... Pie?

It’s been six months since I began my mission to investigate and learn more about this world. Unfortunately, my arsenal of knowledge is limited to a collection of books about rocks, crystals, and minerals. Better than nothing, right? At least I’ve read that, in my previous life, babies and young children have an incredible ability to absorb information thanks to all those developing neural connections. Is it true? I don’t know, but if there’s a chance I can learn faster, I’ll make the most of it while I can.

Apparently, I’m not the only one diving into the world of geology. Whenever I start reading, it doesn’t take long for one of my sisters—Maudileena—to join me. She seems to have a fascination with rocks. We sit together silently, engrossed in our respective books. At least her presence helps me blend in a little more.

I haven’t limited myself to studying, though. I’ve also decided to strengthen myself physically. I’ve started pushing anything heavy I can find within reach. Someday, I know I’ll be working with rocks alongside my family, so I figured it’d be a good idea to start building my muscles now. Yes, it’s just rocks, and yes, they’re heavy, but the more I try, the stronger I’ll get.

My family has noticed my little “training sessions.” Inside the house, I push around piles of toys, which mostly consist of smooth stones, and when they let me go outside, I look for small rocks and do my best to move them. Interestingly, whenever I do this, Limestone often joins in. I’m not sure if it’s because she’s training too, she likes to be in charge, or she just sees it as a challenge. But when I take on something much heavier than I can handle, either she or Maudileena steps in to help. It’s kind of sweet but also frustrating—they don’t seem to realize it’s personal training.

As for my parents, they just see it as childish play. To be fair, they’re not wrong. My dad, especially, can’t resist teasing us when he catches us in the act. “Starting so young, already pushing rocks! Those are my kids!” he says, looking at me and my sisters with what I imagine is a very subtle, almost expressionless smile.. Limestone, of course, stands proudly at attention whenever he says this, puffing out her chest as if she’s already the leader of a rock-moving brigade.

So, these past months, I’ve been dedicating myself to training both my mind and body. Hopefully, it’ll come in handy when I decide where I want to go in the future.

But today is a special day—it’s our birthday! Mine and my two sisters’. “The entire farm is in chaos! Festive decorations everywhere, a feast laid out with a towering cake that looks absolutely delicious, and ponies arriving by the dozen. This is a grand celebration!”

…At least, that’s what I wish I could say.

For what feels like the hundredth time, I’m disappointed.

No decorations, no fancy or mouthwatering food, and as for guests? Just our grandparents showed up. I hear we have cousins who work as lumberjacks, but they couldn’t make it because of work. Honestly, this feels more like a casual gathering than a proper birthday party.

After enduring the usual rounds of cheek pinching and nose nuzzles (is all this physical affection really necessary?), I’m scooped up in my dad’s hooves and carried to the designated “kids’ area.” It’s set up in a corner of the living room, surrounded by a low wooden fence. Along the way, I catch a glimpse of the central table in the living room, piled high with cardboard boxes wrapped in newspaper, each with a label stuck on. I assume those are the presents. The wrapping isn’t exactly exciting, but it’s the content that counts, right? A mischievous grin spreads across my face. Here’s hoping one of those gifts is a book that isn’t about rocks. Now that would be an unexpected surprise.

Inside the kids’ area, alongside my two sisters, there’s a soft blanket and a variety of toys: alphabet blocks, rings of various sizes, raggedy dolls… and, of course, some rocks with googly eyes glued onto them. (I get it, we’re rock farmers!)

I let out a resigned sigh. I know I’m only one year old, but come on! I feel like an adult trapped in a “rock-themed daycare.” Sometimes I have the urge to ask for a hot cup of tea and read the politics section of the newspaper, just to preserve my dignity. Instead, we’ve been given apple juice cartons in this tiny prison. I exhale again, this time pure resignation.

All I want to do now is something useful. The problem is, this little enclosure feels like a cage. Sure, I could try to escape, but with the adults keeping watch, they’d catch me in an instant and plop me right back here. I’m at their mercy. My books are out of reach. I suppose, instead, I could take the opportunity to do a bit of exercise.

Over the past few months, I've been practicing pushing and lifting things. I've also been working on gripping objects with my hooves and moving around more to improve my dexterity and agility. It’s not much, but it’s something productive to focus on here. At least I won’t waste my time.

So step aside, babies—watch a superior being train with unmatched dedication!

Immersed in my effort to perfect my grip—though my hooves still didn’t quite cooperate as I wished, at least I could now hold smaller objects more steadily—I barely noticed the murmur of voices around me. The adults were chatting in their usual calm and almost emotionless tone, their words blending into a low hum. I mentally tuned them out, fully engrossed in my self-imposed dexterity challenge.

Then, cutting through the background noise, a voice rose with cheerful familiarity:

“It’s always a joy to see you, son, and even more so to see my grandfoals on their special day,” came a sharp, slightly raspy voice—it was one of my grandmothers.

“And it’s a pleasure to have you here today, Mother,” replied my father as he escorted her toward the corner where my sisters and I sat. “Kids, look who’s here—your Grandma Pie!”

Before I could react, another voice chimed in from the side.

“Don’t forget about Nana Pinkie!” said a second older mare, who appeared to my other grandmother’s left.

...

Both of my grandmothers were here at the same time: Grandma Pie and Nana Pinkie. They stood side by side, right in front of me.

Something about this moment struck a chord deep within me. My heart skipped a beat, and a shiver ran down my spine. Those names—Pie and Pinkie—echoed in my mind like a faint melody I’d once heard but couldn’t quite place. It was impossible. Yet the familiarity was undeniable, clear as day.

Suddenly, a random tidbit of information I’d once brushed off as a curious coincidence clicked into place.

I dropped the small object I had been trying to grip and turned toward the other side of our makeshift playpen, my movements slow, almost mechanical. And there she was: my sister.

A pink filly, the same size as me, with a long, straight mane of the same soft hue that fell over her deep blue eyes. She was sitting there, obliviously stacking wooden blocks, unaware of the storm of recognition her presence was stirring within me.

Fragmented memories began piecing themselves together. That pink coat, the peculiar hair, those wide, expressive eyes—even though they were calm now, they seemed to hold a latent, boundless energy. Pinkie Pie. Of course, she looked a little different—straighter mane, less of the boundless joy I associated with her—but there was no mistaking it. This was her. Or at least, someone exactly like her.

The realization hit me like a lightning bolt. Equestria… this wasn’t just a world of colorful, talking ponies. In my previous life, I’d seen this place somewhere before. It hadn’t been much—just something I occasionally glimpsed on TV while eating or overthinking life. But now, it all made sense.

This world… it was the same one from My Little Pony.

For a moment, my mind reeled, struggling to process the surreal truth. How had I not seen it before? The talking ponies, the names, the vibrancy of everything… But with all the trauma and doubts clouding my thoughts, that piece of my past life’s memories had stayed buried. Now, it was all surfacing at once. And there she was—Pinkie Pie, or rather, Pinkamena Diane Pie—at the moment.

I froze as the weight of the realization sank in. Somehow, in this bizarre twist of fate, I had been reincarnated into the very universe of My Little Pony.

She must have noticed the intensity of my stare because she looked up from her blocks, tilting her head with a curious expression. Her large eyes locked onto mine, filled with innocent curiosity.

There we were: Pinkamena and I, in this peculiar playpen surrounded by toys, the murmur of adults filling the room around us. She started waddling toward me, her steps unsteady but determined. Meanwhile, I remained rooted in place, utterly paralyzed as memories and feelings surged through me in a chaotic storm.

Just as I was considering whether to speak or remain silent, a familiar shadow loomed over us.

“There you are!” my mother exclaimed as she scooped me up in her hooves. I noticed my father and Nana Pinkie doing the same with Pinkamena and Marble.

The adults carried us into the center of the living room, placing us down on a large rug near the fireplace. A rocking chair sat in one corner, a large couch and an armchair occupying the other side. The three of us were placed side by side, with me awkwardly situated in the middle.

I heard murmurs around us before watching my father, Igneous, stand tall before everyone. He leaned toward us and, with enthusiasm, announced loudly and clearly for all present:

“We are gathered here today to celebrate the first birthday of our three little foals: Pinkamena Diane Pie, the eldest of the three, Marble Pie, the second, and lastly, the youngest by a few minutes, Echorellian Crumble Pie.”

My grandparents nodded solemnly before stomping their hooves on the floor —apparently the equine version of clapping— joined by my parents and my two older sisters.

Meanwhile, I couldn’t tear my eyes away from my sister Pinkamena—or better yet, future Pinkie Pie.

If my reincarnation had already been cosmically ridiculous, it now felt universally absurd. Of all the possibilities, I ended up in the world of an animated show. Really? This has to be some kind of joke.

And to top it off, I’m younger than her. For the love of everything holy, I thought my dignity couldn’t sink any lower, yet here I am.

From the center of the room, the three of us were the focus of my grandparents’ attention as they fawned over us with comments like, “How adorable they look together!” and somehow, I fall lower.

The rest of the gathering unfolded like any other, at least after the mind-blowing discovery that had detonated in my head. After the obligatory photo session and unwrapping of gifts (most of which were stone figurines and rags), our grandparents began saying their goodbyes and heading back to their homes.

The three of us were eventually returned to our blessed crib. From where I lay, I could see Pinkie peacefully sleeping.

Bloody hell! I’m in the world of the show.

This is all moving way too fast! I’ve barely had time to process that I’m in Equestria, and now it turns out Pinkie Pie is my sister... which means the timeline of the series could be unfolding right before my eyes! This isn’t just about adapting anymore; I’m in the real Equestria, and that changes everything!

The idea of infinite universes sounds theoretically plausible. Maybe in another world, Equestria is just a story, but here, it’s reality. And me... I’ve been tossed into this story as if I were just another character. Something—or someone—seriously screwed up my reincarnation big time. And now what? Am I supposed to risk the fate of this world?

I know I might sound paranoid, but this is real. With the famous “butterfly effect,” even the tiniest change in history could have catastrophic consequences. What if, by some accidental action, I alter the course of a crucial event? What if one of those supervillains who threaten Equestria actually wins because the ponies who are supposed to stop them aren’t where they need to be—or worse, because they die trying?

I still remember that episode where Twilight traveled through time and saw alternate timelines full of chaos and destruction. That nightmare could become a reality here if I mess something up, even slightly. This isn’t a game!

This world, this Equestria, is as fragile as a spider’s web, and every step I take here could be like dropping a stone onto it. My heart pounds wildly, as if trying to warn me of the invisible danger posed by every tiny action I make. I press a hoof to my chest, trying to focus on the pressure to find some stability, but the frantic rhythm doesn’t let up. I can’t let this world collapse because of a mistake—my mistake. A slip, a lapse in judgment, a single misstep... and it could all come crashing down.

Breathe. Calm down. “If you’re freaking out, take a breath.”

I exhale deeply, feeling the weight in my mind begin to lift. Alright. Alright. At least I can start thinking. From the right perspective, this might be manageable... maybe. Pinkie is my sister, but that doesn’t mean I have to change how things are supposed to be. I just have to stay out of it—keep my distance from the other protagonists, from the pivotal events, from everything that’s supposed to happen in its time.

It’s settled: I just have to be a background character. If I stay out of the way, as invisible as a rock in a field, things should progress smoothly. I can exist in this world without jeopardizing the flow of the story. I won’t do anything that alters the balance, draws attention, or changes the course of events. Just… don’t stand out.

But… wait… now that I think about it, this new plan slams the door shut on countless possibilities. If I have to stay this far removed, how many choices are now out of my reach? I can’t simply be here; I must constantly worry about not changing anything. My very existence is an unknown variable in this timeline, and every ripple, every minor detour I might have considered, is now off-limits.

What happens if I cross paths with an important character someday? I can’t intervene, not even if I see them about to get hurt, right? That chance to be more than a shadow… it’s forbidden to me. And what about times when I must make a decision that involves someone significant? No matter how small it seems, isn’t that enough to unleash unforeseen changes? If I have to avoid every significant event at all costs, then doesn’t that mean life-defining choices are closed off to me?

Am I just going to be a background pony? A careful step here, a cautious step there, without ever taking any action that carries risk? I’ll be a spectator in my own existence, never really moving forward. Any chance of becoming something in this world has already been snuffed out, and any attempt to achieve greatness… what would that be, then? A danger that could upset the story’s course.

I must live on the sidelines, in a neutral space, where every choice must be weighed, and most of the time, the correct answer will be to do nothing at all. The irony is absurd: in a world where magic, adventure, and heroes are everywhere, I’ll have to be the only one who slips by unnoticed, avoiding shiny paths and open doors.

Before me stretches the decision tree I created long ago—a map of all I imagined for my life, branching out in infinite directions. Careers, hobbies, studies, paths I could have taken… all those dreams now stand before me, turning ethereal and fading one by one, like ink dissolving in water.

I can feel my world shrinking, the walls closing in around me. The life of a mere spectator… a background character. An existence without influence, without impact. The sense of confinement is so strong I can barely breathe. My own thoughts are suffocating me, as if every lost decision is stealing a breath from me.

"If you’re freaking out, take a breath."

No. Not again. I refuse to be a secondary character in my own life. This time, I won’t sit on the sidelines, watching the world pass me by. I won’t give up without a fight, and I won’t let the fear of messing something up paralyze me. Sure, I have no idea what I’m going to do or where this path will lead, but I won’t let my decision tree wither into a dried-up shrub.

The risk is there; I accept it. The possibility of making mistakes exists, but what life is worth living without them? For now, I’m in a safe position—a mere colt in Rockville, far from the heart of great stories and major characters. Here, I’m free. If I want to do something, this is the moment. Right here, right now.

Maybe I don’t yet know which path to take, but I won’t let walls and limitations stop me. Perhaps I won’t become a legend, a hero, or anyone who alters Equestria’s destiny, but I’ll be me. I’ll create my own story and live it my way, no matter what.

I can feel the walls slowly receding. The air begins to flow again, and the life that once seemed so limited now shows its possibilities.

What a stressful birthday for someone who just turned one.

Author's Note

Echo is reading every book he can get his hooves on, although most are about rocks. He’s also starting to train physically.

He has just turned one year old.

He has discovered the truth about the world he was reincarnated into,. He mainly worries about dramatically altering the future, like in the movies.

However, he has decided that won’t limit what he plans to do in the future.

Fun Facts:

Originally, the birthday scene was going to feature many more relatives with simple food and decorations. However, since the Pie family wasn’t supposed to know the joy of a party yet, it was changed to a much simpler gathering with just the grandparents.

Although an extended family was ultimately not added to the party, there is a mention of lumberjack cousins who were introduced in a comic.

About grandmothers, in the show Pinkamena mentions Nanny Pinkie and Grandma Pie.

Also originally, there was going to be a mention of the moon that would be another piece of information for Echo to realize which world he was reborn in, but I discarded it because the meeting would be held during the day, while at night they are always allowed to rest inside the crib, which would be the most common.

Thanks for reading!

I read all the comments and appreciate your interest in the story <3 :twilightsheepish: and I'm giving my all to give you a good story.

Chapter 5: between school and destiny

*Ding. Ding*

"Wake up, everyone!" boomed a deep voice from outside the room.

After a couple of knocks, the door creaked open just enough to let a helmet and a head peek through—it was my father, Igneous.

"Breakfast will be ready shortly. Get up and prepare to join us at the table," he said before ringing the bell again for emphasis and leaving the room.

I pushed the blanket off my face and sat up halfway. This was the daily routine of a rock farmer: waking up before dawn to start the day full of energy.

Wiping the drool from my cheek with a hoof, I tossed the rest of the blanket aside and hopped off the bed with more flair than necessary, landing squarely on my hooves. Stretching out, I shook off the morning grogginess.

Opening my eyes, I took a look around the room. To my left was Pinkamena, who, like me, was just dragging herself out of bed with a sleepy yawn. On the other side was Marble, calmly tidying up her bed as always.

And then there was me, smack dab in the middle and facing the door straight on.

It's been a few years since that chaotic first birthday. Now, at six years old, I can move around freely and speak without stressing too much about acting like a "normal colt." My family still finds some of my habits odd—especially the pros-and-cons board plastered next to my bed. But they chalk it up to harmless eccentricity, occasionally commenting on it like it's an amusing curiosity.

A few years ago, I was moved into a shared room with my sisters, Pinkamena and Marble. The division was immediate: each of us claimed a side of the room, leaving the area near the door as neutral territory.

While they haven’t made many changes to their areas—save for adding a few oddly-shaped rocks we’ve stumbled across—my half is a controlled chaos. It’s filled with books, notes, and diagrams of interconnected ideas. Even a couple of moderately heavy stones I use for training. My sisters are quiet and calm, which contrasts sharply with my late-night study sessions, where I mumble to myself while scribbling notes or practicing. On those nights, I usually end up with a pillow thrown at my head, followed by a grumpy, “Can you shut up?!” Fair enough, honestly.

Once I was fully awake, I bolted out of the room, galloping down the hall toward a door. I tried the handle—it didn’t budge.

"Occupied," came a monotone voice from the other side.

“Maud…” I muttered, narrowing my eyes in a silent challenge. She was always the first to wake up and never failed to beat me to the bathroom.

Wasting no time, I raced to the basement. With a quick maneuver—and a slight slip on the steps—I reached the bottom and lunged for the second bathroom door. Another failed attempt.

“Occupied… better luck next time, slowpoke!” called a smug voice from the other side.

“LIMESTOOOOONE!” I yelled. Limestone, surprisingly, had woken up earlier than usual and beaten me to the second bathroom—a rare occurrence.

Resigned, I slumped next to the door to wait. Moments later, Pinkamena showed up, apparently with the same plan as me.

After breakfast—devoured in record time—I took the dishes, washed them, and headed back to my room to grab my saddlebags. Then I dashed to the front door.

“Hurry up! Dad, you promised we’d leave early!” I called, practically vibrating with energy.

“I was hoping to finish my breakfast first, but…” He looked me in the eyes briefly before grabbing another cooked carrot and taking a quick bite. “I suppose my breakfast can wait,” he said, standing up and grabbing his hat from the coat rack.

I’ve been reading every book on geology, minerals, and crystals I could find in the house, fascinated by some of their curiosities. Did you know basalt stones, rich in iron, can warm your skin? Or that quartz has such a strong structure it can withstand intense pressure without breaking?

Noticing my interest, my parents have taken me to the small town library several times. It’s not the vast labyrinth of books you might imagine, but it’s enough. They always try to get me to join the storytime sessions with other colts and fillies, though I usually sneak off to more "important" sections, like Equestrian history and geography.

Nowadays, it’s mostly just Maud and me who visit the library occasionally. But today is special. This weekend, a new selection of books is arriving. After much begging, I managed to get my parents to agree to take me so I could borrow them.

This is a big deal. I don’t have much in-depth knowledge about the world yet, and the bits I remember from the show aren’t exactly rich in detail.

For now, the research I've gathered confirms that this world is, as I remembered, called Equestria. Another fact is that Princess Celestia rules from Canterlot. Thanks to a geography book, I've also learned about other places of interest like Ponyville, Manehattan, Cloudsdale, and Griffonstone.

The name that caught me off guard, though, was Ponyville. Seriously, who decided that was a good name?

From the few scattered paragraphs I've managed to find in books, I know that magic exists. Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to dig deeper into the subject because Rockville—apparently located in western Equestria—is a town entirely populated by earth ponies. That means there’s little to no information about magic available here.

The only books I’ve been able to read are on geology, carpentry, the occasional text about plants and mosses, Rockville’s history, and some outdated geography books.

Still, I’m holding onto hope that this new batch of books will bring some fresh information.

“Caves, Rocks, and Mosses?! Third Edition?!” I exclaimed, staring at the hefty book in my hooves with a mix of shock and confusion.

“Along with a collection of new books from geologists and rock researchers, freshly arrived this morning,” the librarian explained. She was a gray mare with a faint yellow undertone, a neatly tied white mane, and a pair of half-moon glasses perched on her nose. “What do you think, Echorellian? Taking them or leaving them?”

Rocks. It’s always rocks. “...I’ll take them,” I finally replied, nudging the miniature cart I’d brought along to carry the books.

After a slow walk back with my head hanging low and a resigned groan, we arrived at the farm just as the sun rose, bathing the vast rocky fields in warm light.

Besides studying, I’ve started working on the family rock farm like my sisters, extracting and collecting different types of stones. We’re still young, so we’re usually assigned smaller, lighter rocks. But every now and then, I find ways to work with the bigger ones.

The workdays are intense—long hours under the sun, carrying rocks—but the effort feels worthwhile. Seeing my contribution help the family is rewarding enough to make the exhaustion worth it.

We reached the door, where my mother and Maud greeted us.

After a quick hello, Maud spoke up. “Did you get any books for me?” she asked in her usual monotone voice. Over the years, I’ve learned to recognize the subtle hints of enthusiasm in her tone.

“Oh, you bet I did! A whole cartload of them!” I replied, gesturing to the cart behind me. “But you’ll have to wait for Caves, Rocks, and Mosses. The last edition left me too curious to skip this one,” I added, clutching the book in my hooves.

She nodded and calmly wheeled the cart off to her room.

After years where the only entertainment available was books—and those books were mostly about rocks and minerals—you learn to find excitement in them. So, after finishing this book, I’ll work my way through the rest of the cart. Same old routine.

It’s strange, though. I mean, they’re just rocks. Yet, in the absence of literally everything else, even I’ve grown fond of them. It's like a love-hate relationship.

With a sigh and the book still in my hooves, I headed to my room.

Once inside, I closed the door behind me and walked to the foot of my bed. The walls were covered in papers, notes, diagrams, and sketches, all connected by red strings. Together, they formed a massive decision tree.

Unfortunately, my hard work in figuring out what to do with my life still hasn’t paid off. The answer remains a mystery. My decision tree—now a literal, physical tree—just keeps growing. But like before, all its branches lead to the same place. Every single thread connects to a blank spot on the wall, the same empty space where all my options hit a dead end.

I placed the book on the bedside table next to my bed, saving it for later. Then, I lay down, staring at the ceiling. Even up there, notes and ideas were taped, including lists of hobbies I’d considered exploring.

For now, though, today was a rest day on the farm. I could take the weekend to think and read before my first day of school next week.

Still, what irritates me most is the lack of information about magic in the library—or anywhere in Rockville, for that matter. I tried branching out from the topic by exploring anything remotely related to runes or enchantments. Keeping in mind that this town literally has the word “rock” in its name, but surprisingly there is absolutely nothing on the topic.

Magic itself is an entire branch of possibilities, but without access to it, countless doors remain closed to me. All I have at my hooves are geology books. At this rate, I’m more likely to earn a Rocktorate before I find a book that’s different..

With one last sigh, I grabbed Caves, Rocks, and Mosses: Third Edition and opened it.

Two months have passed since I started elementary school. The school itself is a modest wooden shack with a rusted bell perched on the roof. To the side, there’s a simple playground where the equipment is either corroded or made from stacks of piled rocks. It has only a few classrooms, and though the age difference between my older sisters and us is not vast, it’s enough to place them in a different room from ours.

“Can you lend me yesterday’s notes, Echo?” Pinkamena, seated beside me, asked. Without bothering to reply, I simply nodded, took out my notebook, and handed it over.

“Thanks! You’re the best!” she reply.

I sighed quietly and slumped onto my desk.

A curious fact about this new life of mine is that, since Pinkie and I are the same age, it was inevitable that we’d end up in the same classroom. Not only that—we’ve been together since nursery and foal kindergarten.

I know I shouldn’t get too involved with one of the main characters, but when fate positions you as her twin from the very beginning, what can you do? It’s like I was coerced into being by her side.

Now, somehow, we have become an inseparable family unit. No wonder, after all it seems like we are always together.

So here we are. I can only hope my role in Pinkie Pie’s life is confined to this phase in Rockville and doesn’t ripple into her future when she eventually moves to Ponyville. After all, I’m just her brother—at most, a side character. With a little luck, I’ll be an insignificant part of her story, nothing that alters the course of history.

So, I shouldn’t worry, right? I can live my own life without concerns—or so I think.

Suddenly, the bell rings, and the door swings open to reveal an older stallion with a stern look and a perpetually furrowed brow. It’s our teacher, Clover Dust. He greets the class, wastes no time, strides to his desk, and starts marking attendance.

I glance around indifferently, taking in the classroom’s creaky, aged atmosphere: dark wooden walls, worn desks engraved with years of doodles, and a large chalkboard at the front, smudged with remnants of past lessons. The other foals are already in their places.

My seat is right in the middle of the room. To my right sits Pinkie, and to my left is Marble, who often remains silent, occasionally murmuring a soft “hmmph-hmm.”

I know my demeanor can come off as gloomy or even apathetic, but honestly, it’s justified. I’ve been here for a while, and being an adult in a foal’s body makes all this feel absurdly easy.

After going through the hell of picking things up with your hoof or mouth, of course.

Once the teacher finishes roll call, he sets the sheet aside, picks up a piece of chalk, and starts filling the board with simple words and numbers. The class officially begins, and we’re assigned basic reading and writing exercises. I watch the other foals concentrating, laboring over their strokes as if each letter were a monumental challenge. For me, it’s child’s play; after all, I’ve already done this once before.

I could pretend to “learn” alongside them, blending in as an average student. I could feign clumsiness or ignorance, hide behind a façade to avoid drawing attention. But I choose not to.

I’ve decided that my presence shouldn’t disrupt the course of this world—or at least not in a way that causes problems. Right now, as long as I don’t meddle too much with the other protagonists (though it’s already too late to worry about my interactions with Pinkie), I should be fine. So instead of playing dumb, I opt to display my skills—but with moderation. After all, I’m not about to reveal anything about my past life or mention that I was once a strange bipedal creature called a “human.”

Maybe standing out and taking initiative isn’t such a bad thing. If others see me as a quick learner, it might open more doors for me in the future. And more importantly, I’ve resolved not to live in hiding or act like a background character. I didn’t come here to blend into the crowd or to observe from the shadows.

As I calmly scribble the letters, Teacher Clover Dust approaches, reviewing our progress. He pauses, examining my work with a subtle expression of surprise, then glances at Pinkamena’s.

“Good work, Pinkamena,” the teacher says in an encouraging tone. Then his eyes land on me, and his expression shifts to a mix of surprise and approval.

“Echo, it seems you have a knack for this,” he remarks, inclining his head slightly. “It’s clear you’re a dedicated foal. Keep it up, and you’ll achieve great things.”

I nod with a small smile. The teacher really has no idea what I’m capable of. I’m not going to pull calculations out of thin air, but I’m confident I can breeze through any assignment they throw at me. A faint, mischievous grin begins to form on my face. It feels like cheating, and I absolutely love it.

Another day, another class that passes without a hitch.

I’m in the middle of lessons right now. Sure, school is important, but when the subjects are general ones like reading, writing, language, math, and the like, they’re so easy for me that they no longer demand my full attention. I usually jot down quick notes just so my parents can see I’m "taking notes" and won’t worry. Once that’s done, I zone out a bit and start sketching in my notebook.

It’s not that I dislike these topics; it’s just that, having gone through all this in another life, it feels almost automatic. Even so, I occasionally glance around and see my classmates struggling to grasp what feels like basic concepts to me. I’ve noticed that math, in particular, is a challenge for Pinkamena. Lately, she’s been asking for my help after class, which has naturally increased the amount of time we spend together.

However, there are days when class covers topics that truly grab my attention, like history or unique concepts specific to this world. On those days, I grab the charcoal stick we use as pencils and take detailed notes, eager to absorb every word.

Today is one of those days. Teacher Clover walks in wearing a particular expression, a faint smile he reserves for lessons that excite the foals. He announces that today we’ll be discussing one of the most important aspects of any young pony’s life: Cutie Marks.

The mention of the topic immediately piques my interest. A mix of curiosity and a peculiar kind of nervousness stirs in me as I watch my classmates light up with fascination. It’s not just the information itself, but the reminder of how much importance this world places on self-discovery.

My thoughts drift. The concept of Cutie Marks has always intrigued me, even before I arrived here, but now it carries an entirely new weight. What kind of Cutie Mark could someone like me—a soul who’s already lived a life—possibly receive? Could it somehow reflect my past, or would it be something completely unexpected?

The teacher moves around the room with a sparkle in his eyes, clearly thrilled to explain today’s topic. He draws a pony silhouette on the chalkboard, adding the outline of a shining star on its flank—a generic Cutie Mark he uses to illustrate the concept.

“Cutie Marks,” he begins, her tone warm, “are much more than just a symbol. They appear when a pony discovers their true talent or purpose in life. It’s a very special and unique moment for each of you, and every Cutie Mark represents something one-of-a-kind.”

One of the foals raises a hoof, curious. “When do they show up, sir? How will we know what our talent is?”

“Ah, excellent question, Starry!” the teacher replies enthusiastically. “There’s no set time. It could happen tomorrow, next year, or even later. It all depends on when each of you finds something you truly love or excel at.”

Pinkamena looks particularly focused, her eyes filled with wonder as she watches the chalkboard. I’m intrigued too, though my questions go a bit deeper. I raise my hoof, and Teacher Clover nods for me to speak.

“Do Cutie Marks have any connection to magic? I mean, is there some sort of... magical force that makes them appear?” I ask, carefully choosing my words. The teacher pauses for a moment, thinking.

“That’s an interesting question, Echo,” he finally says. “Not all ponies wield magic in the traditional sense, but the magic of Cutie Marks is something special. It’s not like unicorn spells or the nature-manipulating abilities of pegasi. You could say it’s an internal magic, one that’s directly tied to each pony’s heart and soul.”

Pinkamena tentatively raises her hoof, clearly intrigued but a little uncertain. “So... does that mean a Cutie Mark only shows up when you do something you really like?”

The teacher nods enthusiastically. “Exactly, Pinkamena. Sometimes you discover something you’re passionate about without even realizing it, and then—bam!” He makes a dramatic motion with his hooves, as if casting invisible magic. “That’s when your Cutie Mark appears.”

Another foal, frowning slightly, seems confused. “But... how do we know we won’t get the wrong Cutie Mark?”

Clover shaking his head. “There are no mistakes with Cutie Marks, Dusty. When you discover your true purpose, your Cutie Mark appears, and it’s always the right one. The timing may differ for everypony, but it always reflects who you truly are.”

I raise my hoof again, intrigued. "So… does a Cutie Mark reveal something about our destiny or who we’ll become in the future?" I ask, trying to grasp if there’s a deeper or predestined connection.

"Good observation, Echo." Clover Dust seems impressed by the question. "A Cutie Mark can reflect aspects of the future, but not in an exact way. For instance, it might indicate the kind of talent you’ll have, but how you choose to use that talent is up to you. The Cutie Mark is merely a reflection of a pony’s potential; it’s your choices that define how you use it."

Another colt raises his hoof, curiosity lighting up his face. "Can a Cutie Mark ever be… unexpected? Something that doesn’t really match what you want to do?"

Clover Dust nods "That’s right! Sometimes, a Cutie Mark appears in surprising moments. You might think you have one purpose and then discover something deeper about yourself."

A contemplative silence falls over the room. Some of the foals are lost in thought, likely imagining what their future Cutie Marks might reveal about them. Meanwhile, I’m still mulling over the implications and possibilities.

"What happens if someone never finds their purpose?" a colt near the front asks, his voice tinged with worry.

Clover Dust offers a warm, reassuring smile. "Everyone has a purpose, though some find it faster than others. It’s part of each pony’s journey. There’s no need to rush—just keep experiencing life and moving forward."

The bell rings, signaling the end of class. The foals chatter excitedly as they file out, some speculating wildly about the Cutie Marks they might get someday. Pinkamena seems particularly animated, her eyes sparkling as she imagines her own future mark.

As the others leave, my thoughts linger on what Clover Dust said. Cutie Marks aren’t just symbols of talent—they’re a guide, a reminder of who you are or who you could become. I reflect on what that means, especially for someone like me, who still has no idea what path to take in this world.

It’s… fascinating, really. If a Cutie Mark somehow reflects your destiny, it could be an invaluable resource for making decisions and avoiding wrong turns. Not like my past life, where those kinds of signs were hard to spot, and life often felt aimless. Here, at least, there’s something to give you a foundation to build upon. Still, the question remains: what is it? What talent or purpose does this life hold for me?

My thoughts are interrupted when Pinkamena bounces over, her excitement practically radiating.

"Echo, what do you think your Cutie Mark will be?" she asks in a curious tone. "I hope mine is amazing, like a cluster of shiny rocks! Can you imagine? What if it’s something extraordinary like that?"

I suppress a chuckle at her current speculation, knowing full well what her Cutie Mark will be—and it’s nothing like what she’s imagining right now. But as for her question, I realize I don’t actually have an answer.

"I have no idea, Pinkie," I reply honestly, glancing out the window as my thoughts swirl back to the same question. "I guess it could be anything, but… I don’t even know where to start. It’d be helpful to have a Cutie Mark pointing me in the right direction, but… honestly, I don’t know if there’s anything I truly want to be."

Pinkamena nods thoughtfully.

"But I think it’s time to head home," I add, ending the conversation for now, though my mind continues to churn over it all. She nods again, and we join Marble to head for the exit, where Limestone and Maud are waiting to walk us home.

This whole Cutie Mark thing… it’s fascinating. Ponies in this world are so fortunate to have something that reveals their unique talent, something that gives them direction and purpose. To most, it might seem like just a symbol, but it marks each pony’s destiny and potential.

I think about Twilight Sparkle and her Cutie Mark—that six-pointed star representing magic itself. It’s as if she was always destined to become the icon of the Element of Magic. But did her Cutie Mark reflect her inclination toward magic, or did it somehow guide her toward that destiny?

Either way, Twilight was lucky to receive such a clear and powerful Cutie Mark. Magic became her special talent and her path, but it was also her constant effort, daily dedication, and love for learning that made her the skilled mage she is. And it’s undeniable that her Cutie Mark was an unmistakable sign of her potential.

I feel a small pang of envy; Pinkie, Twilight, and the rest of the main characters already have their paths laid out. I know what their Cutie Marks will be, and they’ll be incredible.

And here I am, without the faintest clue what I might end up with. In my mind, I’ve constructed a sort of map, branching into different paths and decisions—each life route, each possible talent—all leading to the same destination: a blank space, an empty square waiting to be filled. What does it mean when even in my own thoughts, I can’t see a clear goal? Does it mean I don’t truly have a purpose here?

Even so, this talk about Cutie Marks has sparked a small glimmer of hope. Perhaps if I can discover mine, I’ll have a solid foundation to start making decisions, to truly explore who I want to be in this world. Up until now, I’ve been passive, waiting for the answers to come to me, but maybe it’s time to change that.

I’m determined to find out what my Cutie Mark is and, with it, my purpose. I don’t have to sit around waiting for destiny to find me. Maybe, if I take the initiative and actively search, I’ll uncover it on my own.

Author's Note

[Author's Notes for the Audience]

A significant time skip has occurred since the last chapter, and Echo is now six years old.

We get a glimpse of Echo’s interactions with his family, which will be developed further in future chapters.

We see how things have progressed, including the fact that Echo has gained considerable knowledge about geology and other subjects over this time. However, his decision-making tree has grown even more complex, and he still struggles to choose a definitive path.

This is the first time we see Echo in school, where he becomes genuinely interested in the topic of Cutie Marks, seeing them as a potential opportunity to guide his path forward. (It was clear that in a story about the challenge of finding one’s destiny, the topic of Cutie Marks had to come up eventually.)

Fun Facts:

Initial Concept: When drafting the story, Echo originally had no knowledge of the My Little Pony show. However, since his ultimate goal is reaching the very top, he needed at least a basic understanding that achieving such a goal is possible (albeit extremely difficult) to set it as his future objective. While characters like Cadance exist, living in Rockville—a place abandoned by the whims of fate—means Echo wouldn’t have easy access to that kind of information.

Knowledge of the Program: There was some debate over whether Echo should know everything about the program or just what was necessary for the plot. If the former, she would constantly worry about ensuring events went as they should, fearing that her presence as an anomaly could cause a future catastrophe. With the latter option, there was a risk of making her knowledge feel too convenient. The final conclusion? Echo will have a broad, general knowledge of events but nothing detailed in depth and the gaps will have to be filled by deduction or logic, he will be careful but will not be limited by this.

Merging Chapters: This chapter was originally split into two, but I decided to combine them into one longer chapter. This adjustment was made to accelerate the plot, laying the groundwork for future developments and the beginning of the next arc where Echo sets his sights on becoming an alicorn.

(I apologize for Echo not reaching that point yet, but I wanted to establish the foundations to justify his decision and take the time to explore this moment of uncertainty about which path Echo should take.)

Thanks for reading!

Chapter 6: A typical day at the rock farm

I find myself in my little corner of the room, sitting on my haunches on the floor, staring at the decision tree diagram pinned to the wall in front of me. It's an authentic map of organized chaos: brightly colored sticky notes and red strings crisscrossing in every direction, branching out into paths that stretch across the entire wall. Each string connects ideas, hypotheses, and future plans.

This time was supposed to be dedicated to schoolwork, but that was a piece of cake. I’ve just started primary school, and the exercises are so simple they only took me a few minutes. Solving single-digit addition problems feels like a joke when you have the mindset of an adult. I finished before I even realized it, grinning at how easy it all was. It’s almost like cheating. So, with the homework out of the way, I’ve got plenty of time before it’s time to help out on the farm. Usually, I pretend the homework takes me longer than it does, using the extra time to focus on something more interesting: my decision tree.

Alright, there are several options I’d really like to try. While I could tackle them one by one, I think it’s time to consider something more radical and expansive. I believe it’s time to venture into nature.

Out there, I could try out different activities that might bring me closer to my true talent and, hopefully, my destiny. Fishing, climbing, studying botany, collecting samples, interacting with animals, hiking, swimming… the possibilities are endless!

The problem is that Rockville isn’t exactly famous for its lush, vibrant forests. It’s more like a dry woodland, with dull trees and foliage that looks like it’s given up on life. But, as always, you have to make the most of what you’ve got. Still, I’m quite young, and I can’t just wander into the woods without permission. Being dependent on others is starting to get frustrating, as it limits what I can do. But I suppose that’s one of the drawbacks of being just a colt.

To avoid unnecessary trouble, I have no choice but to try to convince my parents to let me go. And, while it may seem harder than math homework, it doesn’t mean it’s impossible. Convincing my parents to spend a weekend camping will be tricky. After all, they’re serious and hardworking ponies who rarely allow themselves a break. But I’ve talked others into more complicated things before… how hard can this be?

Determined, I grab my completed homework sheet in my mouth, walk out of the room with my chest puffed out and my steps steady. I make my way down the hall to the living room, where I see Pinkamena and Marble getting help with their homework from Maud. I simply show Maud my completed work, and after a quick nod of approval, I set it aside and head out of the house.

A few steps later, I spot the rock field where the rest of my family is already working. It’s not unusual to see Limestone here, but not this early. Usually, she takes a little longer to finish her schoolwork and sometimes secretly asks for my help in exchange for larger portions at dinner. Rock training requires energy, and that means more food. But today, it seems she didn’t have much homework or finished it quickly because she’s already out in the field.

I ignore this small surprise and head towards my mother, who’s on the west side of the field fixing the wheel of a cart that seems to have broken during work. When she looks up and her eyes meet mine, I catch a flicker of surprise in her expression. She must be wondering why I’m here so early, considering I should be busy with homework.

I approach my mom, my heart beating with a mix of nerves and determination. I know this conversation will be tough, but I have to try—I’ve got a couple of tricks up my hoof that I hope to use at just the right moment.

“Mother,” I start, using my sweetest voice, “I’ve been thinking… what if we go camping this weekend?” Straight to the point. None of that beating around the bush, which is common in the Pie family.

She barely glances at me, keeping her focus on the tools in her hooves. Her response is quick, curt, like she already had it prepared.

“No. I don’t see the need. We have plenty of work here, and it’s not the kind of distraction we need.”

Okay, I knew this would be difficult, but a flat-out “no” so quickly? I’m not giving up that easily. I pout and pull out my best trick: the puppy-dog eyes. I widen my eyes as much as I can, giving them that “please” sparkle I’ve mastered. At first, Mom seems to ignore it, but I notice a small crack in her expression. I’ve caught her attention, even if just a little.

“Please, Mom…” I murmur, letting myself slump as though the idea of her saying no is a personal tragedy. “It wouldn’t just be for fun. It could be a great chance to… you know, try new things and maybe discover something important.”

Mom sighs and looks at me more closely. I notice her expression is now somewhere between curiosity and... understanding.

"Let me guess," she says, raising an eyebrow. "This has something to do with that chaotic pile of papers and notes hanging near your bed, doesn't it?"

I feel myself blush a little; I didn’t think she had noticed how much I’ve been focusing on this. Still, I nod, unafraid to admit it.

"Yes, partly," I answer. "The other reason is something very important..." I pause dramatically, letting the suspense build. It’s time to play my secret weapon—the one thing I know will hit a soft spot. "It’s also to help me find and earn a Cutie Mark! I've tried so many things here on the farm and… while I’ve enjoyed some of them, none have felt like the one. Maybe at camp, trying new activities, I could discover something that brings me closer to my Cutie Mark."

Ugh. I know how important Cutie Marks are and all, but I still hate the name. Why not call it a Stallion Mark or something cooler? It feels embarrassing to even say it out loud.

My mom studies me in silence, clearly still unconvinced. So, I decide to play my final card.

"Besides, if it’s about money, I can help cover the extra time on the farm," I offer.

She takes a deep breath, and for a second, I think she’s going to turn me down again. But instead, she crosses her forelegs and looks at me in a way she rarely does.

"Echo," she starts, her tone steady but with a faint warmth, "you’ve been doing excellent in school—you’re at the top of your class. And here on the farm, you’ve also been putting in a lot of effort. You even seem to enjoy most of the work..." She pauses, and I catch the faintest trace of a smile on her face. It’s not much, but it’s something.

My ears perk up, brimming with hope. Is she actually considering it?

"I’ll think about it," she finally says. "But for now, you need to finish all your chores today without any distractions. Head to the east field and help your sister. Afterward..." She raises a hoof in a patient gesture, "I’ll talk to your father at dinner about this."

A wave of excitement washes over me, but I force myself not to jump and shout with joy. Instead, I nod eagerly. "Thank you, Mom! I promise I’ll get everything done. Thank you so much!"

She just nods and goes back to her task, and I dash off toward the east field of the farm.

Just like school assignments, this will be a piece of cake. After all, I’ve been training with the heaviest rocks on the farm since I was a foal. Sure, I can’t exactly toss giant boulders around like they’re feathers, but by now, I can handle rocks almost twice my size without much trouble. Compared to other colts my age, that’s already an achievement.

When I reach the east field, I see my sister Limestone hard at work. She’s moving rocks from point A to point B, stacking them neatly before loading them into a cart for transport. I don’t need anyone to explain the job to me; with a quick glance at the setup, I know exactly how to jump in. I walk over to the pile of rocks and pick out a medium-sized one, then start rolling it toward the collection site.

Life on a rock farm is unlike any other type of farming. There are no green fields or bountiful crops waiting to be harvested—just the sound of stones being dragged and the quiet stillness of the gray mountains. In Rockville, everything feels more… mineral.

The rocks here come in all kinds. Some are smooth and rounded, as if polished by centuries of water, while others are rough, with jagged, uneven edges that are hard to grip and even harder to move. There are volcanic rocks, lightweight and full of holes, almost like they’ve been scorched, and there are dense granite stones that require every ounce of strength just to nudge them a few feet.

Each type of task comes with its own strategy. For volcanic rocks, I can carry them outright, walking carefully to avoid scraping myself on the sharp edges. But for quartz or granite, the best approach is to roll them slowly, using gravity to my advantage. Today’s job seems straightforward: gather small-to-medium stones and bring them to the pile, where they’ll later be transported to the village workshops or picked up by a distributor. I focus on the task, pushing one stone after another, feeling the weight under my hooves. Sometimes I pause to use my hindquarters for extra momentum, recalling the exact movements Dad taught me to avoid injury.

Limestone notices me, though she doesn’t say anything at first. I can tell she’s a little surprised—I usually don’t jump into work this quickly. But Limestone being Limestone, she’s not one to be outdone.

I smirk as I catch her sneaking glances at me. True to her stubborn nature, she starts moving larger rocks—probably trying to show me up. Typical Limestone. If Maud or I ever handle rocks bigger than hers, she always makes it her mission to drag something even heavier—or worse, stack multiple rocks at once.

I shake my head, amused, and keep rolling my own rock, focused on my goal. The sooner I finish here, the closer I get to my weekend in the nature.

This job isn’t easy for just anyone, and that’s something that binds us together as a family. My parents always say that working on a rock farm isn’t just about physical labor; it’s about discipline, consistency, and a deep respect for the land and its mineral secrets. Any other pony might think we’re just moving stones from one spot to another, but for us, there’s something special about this work. Every rock has its purpose—whether it’s being crushed for construction, carved into crafts, or sent to the master stonecutters’ workshops in Rockville.

I keep pushing, letting the rhythm of my breathing blend with the sound of rocks scraping against the ground. There’s no rush. The work may be heavy, but I know that by the end of the day, it will all be worth it.

When my sisters finished their homework, they joined in on the labor immediatley."

After a long day of moving rocks under the sun, the sky begins to glow a deep orange. The distant call of my father signals it’s time to head home.

“Come on, it’s time for dinner,” Limestone says, stepping toward the house in her usual serious tone.

Marble and Pinkie drop their shoulders in relief before following behind us toward the door.

As we enter, Mom greets us with a nod and the faint aroma of rock soup. “Dinner’s almost ready. Wash your hooves, and I’ll call you when it’s time to eat,” she says in her usual firm, steady voice while stirring the pot with care.

I head to the sink, climbing onto the bench to reach the faucet. As the cold water flows over my hooves, my thoughts keep circling back to the conversation I’m hoping to hear tonight at the dinner table: the weekend camp. This is my big chance. I imagine all the activities I’ll get to try, each one a potential path to discovering my special talent.

My mind drifts to the possible Cutie Mark I might earn. Could it be something nature-related? The idea is appealing—peace, serenity, maybe something that reflects useful wilderness skills. But then I wonder if a Cutie Mark like that would be all that practical in other areas of life. Sure, knowing how to tie knots or survive in the wild sounds impressive around a campfire, but… would it really help beyond a camp setting? Imagine this: “Hi, what’s your special talent?” And I, with the most serious face in the world, respond, “Oh, me? I have the extraordinary ability to tie unbreakable knots—strong enough to hold a spaceship together.” Ha! That would be pretty hilarious.

On second thought, though, a survival talent wouldn’t be so bad. You never know what the future holds, and having a skill that lets me fend for myself, even in a dark, unpredictable forest, could come in handy. Hopefully, I’ll never face anything that extreme, but… you never know. One way or another, every talent has its use, and if it doesn’t, I’ll figure out how to make it useful.

That’s why camp is my best option. I can try out different activities and, with luck, increase my chances of finding my Cutie Mark. Plus, it’ll help narrow down some branches of my decision tree—a crucial step toward making my life as organized as those charts on my wall.

Dinner on the farm always carried a solemn tone, almost like a ceremony. Each of us took our usual spots at the table: me seated between Pinkie and Maud, while Mom and Dad occupied the heads of the table. No one needed instructions or reminders. From the moment we sat down, we knew exactly where to sit, what to do, and, most importantly, how to behave. In this household, even something as simple as dinner was approached with a sense of discipline I had long since accepted as part of my life.

The table was large and made of solid wood, unadorned but full of character. Its surface bore scratches and stains from years of use—marks that only we could interpret. These imperfections told the story of our lives here, a perfect reflection of our family’s resilience and simplicity.

Mom and Dad wore their usual expressions: serious and focused, as if every moment at the table was just as important as any task in the field. Even Maud, who helped serve dinner, distributed portions with the same precision she used to sort rocks during the day.

The food was simple, maybe too simple, but after a day of physical effort, it gave it a special value. The aroma of the rock soup filled the air, as absurd as it sounds, I can really eat it. At first it was complicated and in fact if I hadn't seen my parents and surprisingly Maud, even though I was so young, eating them, I wouldn't believe that you could eat "rocks." But after a while, you get used to them. In fact, you realized that those minerals gave the food a unique flavor, something that really complemented the food. Eating a bite of the rock was like taking a piece of the earth under our hooves, a direct connection with the working life on the farm.

Dad gave his usual approving nod and said, "Everything’s ready; start eating." That was our signal to begin. In silence, Mom cut small pieces of her bread while the rest of us started on our plates. The only sounds were the crunch of bread or the quiet slurping of soup.

Occasionally, if something noteworthy happened during the day—something truly out of the ordinary—it might spark a brief conversation. But even those moments were rare. Maud wasn’t one for enthusiasm. Limestone stayed quiet unless provoked, and even then, it was usually just a sharp glare. Pinkamena was unusually subdued, and Marble was far too shy to speak up.

Despite all the seriousness, there was a kind of warmth in these moments, a strange comfort that brought a sense of peace. The soft crackle of the fire in the stove filled the kitchen with a soothing warmth, and the aroma of soup and bread felt like a gentle embrace. It was as if the very air whispered, “This is home.” Sure, we didn’t talk much during dinner, but even the silence had its own language—a quiet affection that didn’t need words to be understood.

As I ate, I glanced at Mom out of the corner of my eye. My thoughts drifted back to the camp. We’d had a brief conversation before dinner, and she’d promised to discuss it with Dad. But in a family like ours, these things weren’t decided lightly. Everything required careful thought, and though I was excited about the prospect, I knew I had to be patient.

Looking up, I noticed how the orange hues of the sunset filtered through the window, casting a warm glow that filled me with a sense of calm.

Even with the calming effect of the sunset, I couldn’t shake the anticipation of the conversation about the camp. So, yes, while the sun sank below the horizon, my mind stayed fixed on the discussion that was sure to come.

Dinner reached its peak, with the clinking of utensils against plates and the occasional crunch of edible rocks creating a rhythm that filled the room. My father, seated at the head of the table, paused to take a sip of water, dabbing his mouth with the neatly folded napkin he always kept at his side. Everything seemed to follow the usual routine until my mother broke the silence.

“Igneous,” she said in her neutral tone—the one she used when she was about to say something that demanded everyone’s attention. My ears perked up immediately. I knew exactly where this was going. “Echo mentioned something about a camp this weekend. He wants to go.”

Dad looked up from his plate, his expression hardening slightly, though he didn’t seem surprised. “A camp? Out in the wilderness?” he asked, setting his spoon down with a soft click. “Why would he want to do something like that? I don’t see how it fits with our priorities.”

Limestone, clearly intrigued by the conversation, nearly choked on her food for a second. Pinkie and Marble simply looked up, silent as usual, while Maud… well, Maud just shifted her gaze toward the conversation without showing any other sign of interest.

“It’s more than just camping,” I interjected, trying to sound calm but determined. “There are activities—things we can’t do here on the farm. It could be a good opportunity to… try new things.”

“New things?” Dad asked, his tone more curious than critical, though still skeptical. “What kind of new things?”

“Climbing, learning to navigate, even outdoor cooking,” I said quickly. “Things you can’t experience here.”

His expression didn’t change much. For a moment, I thought he’d dismiss the idea outright without giving it any real consideration. But then he spoke, his tone still firm.

“And what’s the need for that? There’s plenty of work to be done here on the farm, and everything you’re describing sounds more like a distraction than anything useful.”

“But it could be useful!” I insisted, sitting up straighter in my chair. “Dad, what if I discover something I’m good at? I might even find my Cutie Mark! I’ve been working hard here, but I don’t always get to try new things. This could be a great opportunity.”

My mother, who had remained quiet until that moment, added, “We understand what you mean, son, but… camping out in the wilderness? That’s… extravagant, to put it one way.”

“It’s not just about me,” I added quickly, dramatically putting one foot on the table.

“Echorellian!” my mother exclaimed.

Stepping back to my seat and a quick apology, I continued, “What I mean is that what I learn at camp could benefit us all. I could come back with new skills, maybe even something that could help make our work here more efficient.”

That seemed to give my father pause. He stroked his beard with a hoof and let out a heavy sigh, as though he were evaluating a particularly difficult boulder.

Dad finally spoke, crossing his hooves on the table. “Echo, I’ll be honest. I’m not convinced camping is… safe. Nature can be unpredictable—that’s why we’re rock farmers. If you’ve been working this hard for it,” he murmured, almost to himself, “maybe…”

“Igneous,” my mother interjected, her gaze steady on him. “Perhaps he has a point. Maybe we should give him a chance to explore… even if the idea unsettles me.” Her eyes drifted to the side, and I could almost see the wheels turning in her mind as she considered all the terrible things that could happen.

Dad closed his eyes for a moment, as though reflecting deeply. Then he spoke again, his voice deliberate. “You’re too young to be worrying about a Cutie Mark—those things take time. But…”

There was a long silence. Finally, he nodded slowly, though there was a note of hesitation in his movements. “Fine,” he said firmly. “I’ll discuss the details with your mother. But there’s one condition: the farm chores must not be neglected. If you finish everything assigned to you by the weekend, then we’ll all go.”

Before I could react to his decision, Limestone leaned forward over the table and exclaimed, “You mean all of us?”

Dad responded with a simple nod, his expression neutral.

A smile spread across my face before I could stop it. “Thank you, Mom, Dad! I won’t let you down!”

“You’d better not,” he replied, though there was a faint glimmer in his eyes, like he was enjoying my enthusiasm more than he wanted to admit.

As dinner wrapped up, the silence returned, but the atmosphere around the table felt a little lighter. I even caught glimpses of surprise on my sisters’ faces—they still seemed to be processing the fact that Dad had agreed.

And me? My mind was already on the weekend, racing with all the possibilities waiting for me.

It was a great opportunity, a brief escape from the routines of Rockville, where the chances to do anything out of the ordinary were as limited as the range of colors in a pile of gray stones. Around here, it wasn’t like you could stumble upon something new every day, let alone something that might help you discover your purpose. But camp… there, I could try different things—things that, hopefully, might ignite that spark of revelation about who I truly am.

Life? Well, life is complicated. I knew that before, and I know it now—probably better than anyone. In my past life, I was always running from one thing to another, like I was caught in an endless race, constantly wanting to try everything, touch everything, live everything. It was an insatiable hunger for experiences, but also a problem. Because while I wanted to do it all, I also understood how life works: you can’t do everything.

And even if you only choose a few things, there’s always something that holds you back. Maybe it’s out of reach. Maybe you lose the drive. Maybe others think you’re crazy. Maybe there’s just never enough time. Or maybe, you simply can’t afford it.

I ended up trying so many different things but without direction. It was like wandering in circles with my eyes closed. In the end, I never really accomplished anything meaningful. That indecision, that lack of purpose—it led to my downfall. Literally.

Now, here I am again. A new body, a new world, but with the same old problem: What am I supposed to do with my life? It’s ironic. In my past life, I used to spend sleepless nights questioning myself. Always the same dilemmas, over and over again. And here, though the setting has changed, the question remains the same.

It seems questioning the future is something inevitable—something intrinsic to being alive. I’ve learned that well.

Since arriving here, I thought things would be different this time. That I’d be able to set a clear goal right from the start. But six years have passed, and, to be honest, I haven’t made much progress. I always find myself stuck in a maze of ideas, each leading to a new fork in the road, and there’s never a path that doesn’t end in a wall. Because no matter how many options I consider, there’s always the chance that everything will fall apart in the blink of an eye.

That’s why I want to make sure that whatever I choose is solid—that I get it right from the beginning, without mistakes that could cause everything to crumble.

And then there’s this whole system of Cutie Marks. It’s fascinating—almost miraculous, when I really think about it. In this world, ponies have something that literally reflects who they are, a kind of internal compass pointing them toward their purpose in life. Something so simple, yet so profound. A special talent, unique to each individual—a mirror of what you carry inside.

It’s exactly what I always sought in my past life: something to tell me, “This is who you are. This is what you’re meant to do.”

That’s why I’m determined. I’ll seize any opportunity that increases my chances of discovering my Cutie Mark. If it means joining the camp and exploring the wilderness, then so be it. Nature is vast, filled with possibilities, practical skills, and valuable lessons. Maybe my Cutie Mark is out there, waiting to be found among the trees, rivers, and stars.

Author's Note

This chapter delves a little deeper into Echo's daily life, showing how he uses the extra time he gains by finishing her chores quickly and efficiently, working at the rock farm, and what afternoons are like at the Pie family table.

As for the camp, it’s essentially inspired by the CMC’s camping episode.

This chapter kicks off the next arc set in the nature, which will play a very significant role later on.

Fun Facts:

Initially, there were two chapters planned before this one, but they’ve been moved much further ahead in the story. They weren’t particularly relevant at this point, so only minor adjustments were needed to this chapter to keep the pacing tighter and move the story closer to the more crucial events.

Thank you for reading!

Chapter 7: Camping Weekend Part 1

We were slowly making our way down the dusty path, the wagon creaking under the weight of all our camping gear. The fresh morning breeze ruffled my mane as I lounged among the sacks, idly watching the weathered arch marking the entrance to Rockville. The sign, barely legible, read “Welcome to Rockville.” The faded paint gave it the look of a nostalgic decoration, a relic that perfectly captured the monotony of the place. It was a symbol of what we were leaving behind: silence, rocks, and the endless routine.

The camp we were heading to, however, promised something entirely different: wild nature, open skies, and a break from the same old scenery. It felt like a small spark of freedom in the midst of all the predictability.

I shifted among the sacks, plucked a stalk of wheat, and popped it into my mouth. Stretching out my hind legs, I crossed my forelegs behind my head, assuming the most relaxed pose I could manage. A small smile crept onto my face—a blend of smugness and satisfaction. Convincing Dad to let us go on this trip had been no small feat, and I was savoring my little victory.

From my prime spot on the wagon, I glanced at my sisters. Maud was her usual self: calm, unflappable, as if nothing in the world could disturb her. Pinkamena, on the other hoof, seemed a little more animated than usual, with that strange glimmer beginning to form in her eyes. Marble was hiding behind her mane and the sacks like she wanted to disappear, while Limestone already looked irritated. Her expression screamed, "I hate every second of this," and we had barely started the trip.

My parents, pulling the wooden wagon at a steady pace, remained silent. Mom occasionally glanced back, likely checking that everything was in order. Dad, true to form, marched forward with determination, as if he were carrying not only the weight of the wagon but also all our expectations.

Everything was quiet and serene until a voice shattered the peace.

“I still can’t believe you managed to convince him to do this. How is that even possible?” Limestone demanded, shooting me a glare sharp enough to split a boulder.

Turning my head toward her, I lazily played with the stalk of wheat in my mouth. I took my time responding, letting the moment drag out before finally pointing a hoof at her and winking with as much smugness as I could muster.

“I have my charms.”

Limestone rolled her eyes with an audible groan. Pinkamena looked surprised, and I could’ve sworn I saw Marble peek out from behind her mane for a moment. Maud, of course, remained entirely expressionless, though something in the air told me she was quietly amused by the exchange.

The journey continued in silence after that, broken only by the creak of the wheels and the occasional crunch of stones beneath my parents' hooves. As the path stretched on, the landscape began to change. The gray hills of Rockville faded into the background, replaced by tall, dense trees whose leaves whispered to each other in the gentle wind.

I couldn’t help but think this would be the perfect moment for one of those classic travel songs—the kind that narrate the journey while bringing everyone together as a family. But how would I even pull that off? I mean, I love songs and music (with some exceptions, of course), but it’s not like I’m a singer or know how to play an instrument. Music doesn’t just appear out of nowhere… right?

…Right?

Should I try? Maybe music is my talent… Nah, it’s way too embarrassing to test that theory now. Another day, maybe.

After a while of walking, we delved deeper into the forest. The ground took on a greenish-gray hue, and the towering trees formed a thick canopy overhead. Eventually, we came upon a spacious clearing, surrounded by sturdy trunks and branches that let in just enough light to illuminate the center. From above, it must’ve looked like the perfect little opening in the vast forest, just right for setting up camp.

I hopped down from the wagon with a bit of clumsiness, shaking the dust off my legs. I began unloading saddlebags and sacks, each packed with provisions and tools. As I worked, a spark of excitement flickered in me. Maybe this weekend would change my life forever. I might finally earn my Cutie Mark, that one-of-a-kind symbol that would mark the start of my true journey.

But my thoughts were interrupted by Dad’s calm voice.

“Wouldn’t you like to discover your Cutie Mark, Marble?” he asked gently, glancing at my younger sister, who was still hiding behind her mane and the wagon sacks.

Marble mumbled something inaudible, while Pinkamena watched the interaction curiously from the side. It didn’t take long for Dad to shift his attention to her as well.

“You too, Pinkamena. This might be a good chance for you to try and find your Cutie Mark.”

And that’s when my brain came to a screeching halt.

Wait. What?

I blinked, trying to process what I’d just heard. Had he really mentioned “Pinkamena” and “Cutie Mark” in the same sentence? Something clicked in my mind, like a hammer striking a massive bell.

“No way…” I muttered, incredulous, letting a sack fall from my grasp.

I’m a complete idiot!

This situation was far more complicated than it seemed—like a geode hiding brilliant crystals beneath a dull outer shell. The problem wasn’t just that I was looking for my Cutie Mark. The problem was Pinkamena. Or more specifically, Pinkie Pie before she was Pinkie Pie—the cheerful, party-loving pony that all of Equestria would come to know. Right now, she didn’t have her Cutie Mark yet, and that made this trip a ticking time bomb for me.

This weekend was supposed to be my chance to try new things and hopefully discover my own mark. But whatever worked for me could also work for Pinkamena. And if she got a Cutie Mark different from the one she was destined for, it could change everything.

A chill ran down my spine. The idea of altering Pinkamena’s fate—and by extension, the future of Equestria—made me want to scream at the sky.

As we worked to unload and set up camp, my thoughts spiraled. Cutie Marks had always been a fascinating and mysterious topic. Nobody really knew how they worked. But… were they unchangeable destinies? Or could they be influenced? What if someone got a mark based on something else? What would happen then?

What if I was the one to change it?

I mean, Cutie Marks are supposed to represent destiny or a special talent or something like that, but that’s just what ponies believe because marks only appear once. There’s no way to test what would happen if someone got more than one.

I shivered. The theory was impossible to prove; you only get one Cutie Mark in a lifetime. But in my case, it was different. I knew how and when Pinkamena was supposed to get hers. If this weekend derailed that… what kind of effect would it have on the future?

I glanced at Pinkamena as she unpacked. She didn’t seem particularly interested in anything at the moment. But that was the problem with Cutie Marks: they often appeared when you least expected them.

My thoughts were interrupted by a snippet of conversation I caught in the background between my mother and Pinkamena and Marble.

“You could use this weekend as an opportunity to discover your special talent. It might be something related to nature,” she said, her words meant to encourage Marble but clearly directed at Pinkamena too.

My ears shot up. Oh no. No, no, no, NO! This was exactly what I was afraid of. If Pinkamena started trying new things this weekend, she might end up with a completely different Cutie Mark from the balloons that symbolized her joy and her destiny as the Element of Laughter.

I let out a long, heavy sigh as I hauled another sack from the cart. This was terrible.

How do Cutie Marks actually work? If she finds something else she likes, is it possible she could get a different one? Or does it not matter what she does—will she always get the one she’s supposed to have?

Remember everything you know about Cutie Marks, Echo… wait, wasn’t there a group of fillies in the show who focused on them? But what was the result? Ugh, I don’t know.

Think of something else. The time-travel episode—yes! But… darn it, I didn’t really pay attention to their marks. Did they have the same ones? Or, because it was an animated show, was it just for simplicity’s sake? Here, in real life, I couldn’t be sure that things wouldn’t turn out differently.

“Yeah, this is a disaster,” I muttered to myself. Then, with a touch of self-deprecation, I added, “And the worst part is, it was my idea to come to this camp. What an idiot I am!”

I looked up at the sky as if hoping for some divine answer to fall from the clouds. But, of course, nothing came. Just the rustling of leaves and the distant calls of birds.

I needed to think fast. If this trip really was a turning point for Pinkamena, I’d have to be extra careful. I couldn’t let Equestria’s future change by accident—especially not because of me.

The universe, it seemed, wasn’t planning to cut me any slack this time.

The first day of the Pie family’s camping trip marked a rare event for a family known for their austere and unshakable focus on working with rocks. Far from their quarries and fields, they found themselves surrounded by greenery and towering trees. It was a scene that might have seemed ordinary to others but was nothing short of extraordinary for them.

The Pie family wasn’t known for their charisma or enthusiasm for recreational activities. Their reputation was built on their seriousness and discipline. That’s why the idea of a weekend camping trip was such a drastic departure that it would have baffled anyone who knew them.

The family had chosen a spacious clearing in the middle of the forest. The spot, tinged with a faintly somber atmosphere due to a few withered trees, provided a peaceful retreat under the morning’s blue sky. It was perfect for the planned activities, though seeing the Pies—more accustomed to rocky terrain—surrounded by so much greenery felt undeniably odd.

At the center of the makeshift camp, the now nearly empty cart rested next to piles of wood and stones they had gathered for the fire pit. Two tents stood off to the side, neatly packed with each member’s personal belongings. The seven ponies were assembled near the stack of wood, lined up with a precision that could almost be mistaken for a military formation.

The adults—Igneous Rock Pie and Cloudy Quartz—stood like statues, their serious and assessing gazes fixed on the group. In front of them, the five young ponies stood perfectly aligned, their expressions ranging from curiosity to timidity to practiced neutrality. The atmosphere carried a gravity that felt unusual for a simple camping trip.

Igneous, with the same formality he would bring to directing an operation at the quarry, began a roll call.

“Echorellian Crumble Pie.”

“Present.”

“Marble Pie.”

“Hmh-mmm… here,” Marble murmured, shyly raising a hoof that trembled slightly.

The roll call continued with the same solemnity until every name had been called. Satisfied, Igneous gave a detailed outline of the camp’s activities.

“We’ll be staying here for three days. The tents have been assigned according to the plans we previously discussed. Meals will be served on time, and everyone will have free time to explore or relax in addition to participating in the activities we’ve prepared.”

With the ceremony concluded, Igneous nodded firmly.

“Very well. Let’s begin our day outdoors.”

The younger ponies were dismissed, some trotting over to the tents while others lingered near the fire pit. Pinkamena, Marble, and Echo stayed behind for a moment, exchanging glances. Echo couldn’t shake the feeling that this weekend had become far more than a simple family outing, much to his own misfortune. Too many variables were at play, and even the smallest deviation could have unpredictable consequences.

As the adults finished unpacking the last items from the wagon and prepared the first activities, Echo’s eyes wandered to Pinkamena’s blank flank.

This is going to be more complicated than I thought, he mused grimly. And we’re only just getting started.

With the equipment unpacked and the tents set up, the adults once again called the foals, who assembled into another impeccable line. Even in the relaxed embrace of nature, the Pie family’s inherent formality shone through, lending an air of order to the camp.

Igneous, as serious as ever, explained the first activity of the day: a nature walk through the forest.

“This will be an opportunity to practice tracking and orientation skills. You’ll also learn to identify useful plants, and if luck is on your side, you might find interesting rocks or edible plants to enhance our meals.”

While the idea for this trip had originated with Echo, his parents noticed something unusual. Instead of the excitement they might have expected, Echo seemed oddly tense. His gaze flitted around the area cautiously, frequently landing on Pinkamena as though he were keeping a particularly close eye on her.

During the walk, Echo kept a steady pace, always making sure to stay close to Pinkamena. Limestone led the group with firm strides, while Maud amused herself by examining every intriguing rock along the path. Pinkamena, meanwhile, seemed to quietly enjoy the environment, her curiosity manifesting in subtle ways that Echo found increasingly unsettling.

As they progressed, Igneous pointed out various plants, explaining their uses.

“This here is sorrel, good for salads or soothing insect bites. And over there”—he gestured toward a yellow-petaled flower—“is arnica. It’s not edible but can be used to treat bruises and wounds.”

Pinkamena paused, staring at the flower with an interested expression. Echo, who had been keeping watch, immediately darted over to intervene.

“Did you know some flowers can be poisonous if you don’t use them properly?” he blurted out, aiming to distract her.

“Really?” Pinkamena asked, tilting her head in curiosity.

“Oh, yeah. It’s super complicated. Better stick with the group,” Echo said, gently nudging her forward with a forced smile.

Throughout the hike, Echo continued this tactic: stepping in just in time to redirect Pinkamena’s attention whenever her curiosity threatened to linger on anything for too long.

When a rabbit suddenly leapt from a bush and stopped in front of Pinkamena, her attention locked onto it with wonder. She approached, reaching out a hoof to touch the creature out of sheer curiosity. Before she could, however, the rabbit was unceremoniously kicked back into the bush.

“Erm… oops, I slipped,” Echo said, shrugging with exaggerated nonchalance. Pinkamena turned to him with a look of mild confusion but said nothing.

This weekend is going to be a nightmare, Echo thought, sighing inwardly.

Further ahead, when they came across a tree whose roots formed a natural arch in the ground, Igneous suggested a simple activity: drawing a basic map of the area.

“A good exercise in orientation,” he explained.

Pinkamena seemed genuinely excited about the idea, but Echo, growing increasingly nervous, quickly stepped forward with a strained smile.

“Oh, great idea! But, uh… Pinkamena’s not really into maps, are you, Pinkie?” he said, placing a hoof on her shoulder with exaggerated familiarity.

Pinkamena blinked at him in confusion.

“Well, it looks fun, but—”

“Perfect! Then let’s just keep walking, right? We wouldn’t want to slow the group down,” Echo interrupted with a nervous chuckle, gently nudging her forward. The slight tremor in his voice didn’t go unnoticed by Limestone, who raised an eyebrow at him.

As the group resumed their walk, Echo’s mind raced. If Pinkamena gets her Cutie Mark now, it could be something entirely different from what it’s supposed to be. What if it changes her destiny? What if she doesn’t become who she’s meant to be?

Every small movement Pinkamena made, every spark of curiosity in her eyes, put Echo on edge. His self-imposed mission to avoid any “inspiring moments” was beginning to wear him down. To the others, he might seem like an overly protective sibling, but Echo knew he was treading a precarious line.

As they ventured deeper into the forest, the rustle of leaves and the crunch of twigs under their hooves blended with Echo’s chaotic thoughts.

I can’t let this get out of hand, he thought, glancing at Pinkamena, who was now examining a small green sprout with innocent curiosity.

“Everything okay, Echo?” Limestone called from ahead, briefly glancing over her shoulder.

“Yep! All good. Couldn’t be better,” Echo replied with a forced laugh.

But deep down, he knew it wouldn’t be easy to keep things that way. So what if I’m stopping her from finding things that interest her? Compared to living in a world torn apart by war—or worse, being completely destroyed—it’ll be worth a couple of boring days.

I just want to live my life properly, not as a refugee in some conflict that doesn’t even concern me.

The fate of a future bearer of the Element of Laughter depended on his quiet vigilance. And this was only the first day, yet he already felt drained.

The day passed with an almost deceptive calm. As the sun began to set, casting the forest in shades of orange, the exploration drew to a close. They returned to camp with the spoils of their adventure: plants, fruits, and, of course, rocks. Maud, naturally, had taken the rock collection a little too seriously, her saddlebags now bulging with stones of all shapes and sizes. Who needs a gym when you’re a Pie?

Back at the campsite, their parents worked in tandem to light the fire and start preparing dinner. Between the provisions they had brought and the resources they had gathered, there was more than enough to feed all seven ponies, with some to spare. The smell wafting from the pots and pans was intoxicating—a blend of fresh herbs and roasted fruit that made Echo’s stomach growl more than once.

By the time the meal was ready, night had fully descended, and the camp was bathed in the warm, flickering glow of the fire. They settled around it, some perched on makeshift log seats, others sprawled comfortably on the ground. A cozy, contented atmosphere hung in the air—the kind of quiet satisfaction that follows a long, fulfilling day.

Then their mother pulled out her trump card: a bag of marshmallows. Even Igneous looked surprised. If this wasn’t a historic moment for the Pie family, Echo didn’t know what was. Everyone eagerly reached for the marshmallows, skewering them on sticks and holding them over the fire, watching as they toasted to a golden brown—or, in some cases, charred to a crisp.

Next came the evening’s entertainment: scary stories. Limestone, ever serious, took the lead with her tale of the “Headless Pony.” Everyone was captivated, drawn in by both her storytelling and the crackling fire. Well, almost everyone.

Echo sat next to Pinkamena but found it impossible to focus on the story. His attention flitted between quick glances at her and the anxious thoughts spinning like a top in his head. At least today didn’t have too many activities that could “inspire” anything too major, he thought, trying to reassure himself. With a sigh of relief, he let himself fall back onto the ground, away from the circle of light, and gazed up at the sky.

The stars shone with a brilliance that never failed to take my breath away. The moon, full and imposing, hung high above, illuminating the forest with its pale light.

“The Mare in the Moon,” I muttered to myself, as my eyes scanned the shadows that formed the silhouette of a unicorn.

I let my thoughts wander as I looked up at the night sky.

If only I had noticed it from the moment I was born, I might have realized much sooner what world I was in. But putting that aside, as I gazed at the moon in this moment, a more pressing thought came to me.

“To think that all this happened because of just one negative act”

It was impossible not to think of her, of Luna. I don’t know the whole story, only bits and pieces that I managed to piece together with great effort to remember and others are simply my deductions. The history books seem to have forgotten about her except for the Halloween counterpart for this world “Nightmare Night”.

But I think I remember most of it, since it was the beginning of the series.

From what I understand. For years, her efforts and her beautiful night had been ignored, overshadowed by the light of her sister. triggering an outburst, how was anyone supposed to endure that? Always living in the shadows, struggling to maintain composure, until finally, she couldn’t anymore. And when she gave in to her emotions, when she released what she had repressed for so long, the price she paid was… disproportionate.

A thousand years. A thousand years imprisoned within the very moon, a prison that was also her creation. All because she wanted to be appreciated.

"Good things will always be the hardest, while bad things will always be the easiest."

That thought echoed in my mind—a phrase I had once told myself when I faced the end in my previous life. And now, here I was again, reflecting on a mare who had carried a far greater emotional burden. The injustice of it all still stung, even after so much time.

How could I not think about it? I mean, after all, it only took one bad thing to ruin everything. It sounds familiar—years of effort, of waking up every day in pursuit of something, only for one single moment, one bad event, to end it all.

It almost sounds like a cruel joke. The tower that takes so much to build can collapse in mere seconds, so effortlessly. It feels unjust.

And the worst part is, I don’t even know who to blame—myself, for being in the wrong place at the wrong time, or the person responsible for the act that led to my death. My death wasn’t entirely my fault, was it?

Hmm, I couldn’t even choose how I died. It was sudden, unexpected—I wouldn’t have seen it coming. Damn it! I didn’t even get to decide how I’d go.

...

Is this how the rest of my life will be?

The night carried on with the storytelling, some tales more frightening than others, while the fire crackled softly. One by one, the group began to disperse, each pony retreating to their respective tents. I ended up sharing mine with Marble, Maud, and my father, all of whom were already settled in by the time I arrived.

I crawled into my grayish-blue sleeping bag and closed my eyes, but sleep didn’t come easily. My thoughts kept circling around the day’s events.

"In the end, it wasn’t so bad," I told myself, trying to feel reassured. "I can be more at ease. Tomorrow, we probably won’t do anything that could jeopardize the future. After all, this is just a simple camping weekend."

With that thought, and the endless possibilities still swirling in my mind, I finally let myself drift into sleep, hoping that tomorrow wouldn’t be as complicated as my fears made it out to be.

Author's Note

It's the first day of wilderness camp for the Pie family.
Perfect if Echo didn't realize what he just did.

Echo is worried about Pinkie, having no idea how cutie marks really work and not being able to fully trust her to get her matching mark no matter what she does. He decides to stick to Pinkie like gum to avoid any possible different fate.

He will avoid anything she shows interest in, even if it means having to kick a rabbit back to where it came from.

He has a moment to think. How he couldn't even decide his own death.

Thanks for reading!

Chapter 8: Camping Weekend Part 2

Day two of the camping trip... and I’m already done.

I get it. We’re rock farmers. It’s our identity, our pride, our… inescapable destiny? But seriously, isn’t this going a bit too far?

As I narrowly dodge a rock hurled directly at my face, I bite back the urge to yell and instead let my frustration simmer in silence. Apparently, there’s an ancient and sacred game in Rockville—a legacy passed down through generations of the Pie family. The rules are simple: toss small rocks into your team’s basket, and the first team to fill theirs wins. Its name? RockBall. Of course, because what else could it possibly be called?

Why is it always rocks? WHY? Don’t get me wrong—I’ve learned a lot about them. I’ve memorized more types and characteristics than anypony would ever need to know in a lifetime. I’ve even developed a grudging appreciation for them. But even I have my limits.

Limestone’s sharp shout snaps me out of my thoughts as she hurls another rock with terrifying precision. With a clumsy, desperate leap, I manage to catch it in my hoof. Great. Now I’m literally playing with rocks.

Let me sum up my “wonderful” life: the books are about rocks. My toys are rocks. Even our meals sometimes include rocks. By Celestia—or whatever deity rules this universe—all that’s left is for us to start breathing rocks too!

I try not to let my inner monologue slip out while I maneuver around my dad and Maud, both of whom are treating this ridiculous game with the seriousness of soldiers in a battlefield. Limestone, naturally, acts like the squad leader, barking orders left and right. Meanwhile, Marble looks terrified, leaving me to take on the role of our team’s designated rock receiver.

And the worst part? This game has devolved into complete chaos. It’s so frantic I can barely focus on what really matters: Pinkamena.

I finally make it to our team’s basket. It’s right there, within reach of a simple toss, but I can’t resist throwing the rock with a little more force than necessary. The bucket wobbles precariously before the rock drops in, scoring a point for our team.

“This is going way too far!” I scream internally, struggling to keep my thoughts contained where they belong. I take a deep breath, trying not to lose my composure, but I can feel my patience wearing thinner with every passing second.

At least we’re closer to winning, which should be some consolation. But honestly? All I want is for this game to end—and for the next activity to involve anything but rocks. Though, considering my life so far, that’s probably wishful thinking.

The game ended, and, as expected, my team lost. Let’s be honest—we never stood a chance. The other team had Maud, who, if I didn’t know better, I’d swear was some kind of rock-collecting machine with pinpoint accuracy and supernatural speed. She’s terrifying sometimes.

If I hadn’t been born a Pie from the start, Maud would’ve figured out how strange I am in no time!

Panting, barely managing to stay upright after all the running and dodging, I caught my breath. My eyes found Pinkie, and a wave of relief washed over me when I saw her flank was as blank as ever. Thank Celestia for that. Throughout the game, I’d been trying to keep an eye on her to make sure she didn’t do anything “inspiring.” But honestly? It was like crossing a battlefield. With rocks flying everywhere, just staying unscathed was a miracle, let alone protecting someone else.

I let out a long sigh and glanced at my own flank. Still as blank as ever. I huffed, frustrated. All that effort, all that suffering... and not even a hint of progress.

The next activity was more relaxed: a trip to a nearby lake. Dad had mentioned before we arrived that he knew a good camping spot, having scouted it out ahead of time. Apparently, it met the elusive “Pie standards,” whatever those might be. Probably something about the terrain and interesting rocks in the area. At least this time, no rock-related games were involved.

When we got to the lake and set our things down, we were let loose to explore and have fun. I couldn’t have been more grateful. After that rocky war zone, my body was crying out for a break.

This was the perfect moment to go swimming. It shouldn’t be that hard, right? I knew how to swim as a human, and there was always the trusty “doggy paddle.” Easy. What could possibly go wrong?

Buur… BUUUR!

The unmistakable sounds of a pony drowning erupted from me as two strong hooves hauled me out of the water. I coughed like I was expelling my entire soul and took a massive gulp of air. Looking up, there he was—my savior. My dad.

“Thanks...” I mumbled between gasps, as he gave me a few pats on the back and checked to make sure I was okay.

With eyes still stinging from the water, I managed to make out Pinkie in the middle of the lake, splashing around joyfully with the others as if they were fish in their natural habitat—the perfect image of carefree bliss.

I, on the other hoof, felt like a rock thrown into the water. Literally. I grumbled internally. I hadn’t packed any floaties because, in my infinite confidence, I assumed my human swimming skills would translate seamlessly to this pony body. Spoiler: they didn’t.

"Try again, Echo. Slowly this time," my father said, gently placing me back into the water.

I huffed with determination and started moving toward the center of the lake. My goal? Pinkie. Why? Because if I didn’t reach her, who knows what might trigger her destiny and unleash chaos on the timeline.

I advanced with all the grace of a drunken duck, feeling more clumsy with every step—or rather, every stroke. And then…

Buur… BUUUR!

Here we go again.

Once more, firm hooves lifted me out of the water. This time, though, my pride was as soaked as the rest of me.

"This has to be some cruel joke of fate," I muttered to myself as my father looked at me with a mix of concern and resignation.

Again, I was placed back into the water, and again, I attempted to move toward Pinkie. And what happened? You guessed it.

Buur… BUUUR!

By the time I was rescued for the third time, I was utterly defeated. Coughing and struggling to catch my breath, I cast a glare up at the sky.

"I’ll find you, fate, universe—whatever you are. And I’ll shatter you into a million pieces," I vowed under my breath. Because if this wasn’t a cosmic conspiracy to humiliate me, I didn’t know what was.

Time passed, and of course, just when I finally learned how to swim, everyone started leaving the lake. I couldn’t believe it! My parents called me from the shore, but I was too frustrated to pay them any attention. Were they really going to drag me out of the water now, after all the humiliation, near-drownings, and loss of dignity? No way!

With a determination that was probably much more dramatic than necessary, I turned around and began swimming toward the center of the lake. My swimming style was still more “pathetic but functional” than elegant, but that wasn’t going to stop me. From the shore, the others watched me with expressions ranging from curiosity to discomfort.

“Should we go after him?” Limestone asked, visibly concerned.

Maud, however, shook her head, observing my slow progress with a rare flicker of understanding in her eyes.

“No… this seems personal to him,” she replied, prompting everyone to nod solemnly, as though witnessing an epic feat instead of a frustrated pony splashing around in a lake.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity (but was probably just a couple of minutes), I returned to the shore, panting and with aching legs. I was greeted with applause that felt more like pity than celebration. Perfect—just what I needed.

We gathered around the campfire for lunch as the sun remained high in the sky. The warmth of the fire and the food did wonders to soothe my bruised pride and tired body. However, I still felt restless.

With a full stomach and dry coat, I decided to lie down on the grass, staring up at the sky. I glanced at my flank out of the corner of my eye, searching for something—anything—that might indicate a change. Nothing. It was as blank as the lake I’d just survived. I let out a low growl and closed my eyes, trying not to dwell on it too much.

As I tried to relax, snippets of conversation floated around me. My father suggested a hike in the surrounding area, though I didn’t catch all the details because I was too tired to focus.

As he explained the plan to the rest of the group, everything sounded fairly normal. “Good luck with that. I’m not breaking my back again,” I thought—until I heard Pinkie’s unmistakable voice chime in, announcing that she wanted to go too.

I cracked one eye open and grimaced. Seriously? Couldn’t she just stay still for a moment? I sighed deeply, knowing exactly what this meant.

“I guess that’s my cue to get up too…” I muttered, dragging myself to my hooves with some effort.

I had no choice. If Pinkie was going, I had to go as well. I couldn’t risk something important happening while I was lying in the grass.

The hike started out calmly. My father had us carry saddlebags, and the group—consisting of him, all my sisters, and me (Mom stayed back at the camp)—set off along a trail that gradually inclined, offering a slightly improved view of the surroundings. At first, I wasn’t particularly impressed, but as we continued, I began to notice details that made everything seem… charming, in a way.

The forest around us was painted in shades of grayish green, with trees that seemed wilted yet somehow alive, as if stuck in an eternal limbo between seasons. Here and there, beams of sunlight broke through the canopy, casting bright, intricate patterns on the moss-covered ground. And the strangest thing—a small pink light danced among the trees... Wait a second. I thought it was fireflies, but… not quite.

This thing caught my attention immediately. It was a tiny sphere of pale pink light, so pure and luminous that I couldn’t tear my eyes away from it. It moved side to side, zigzagging with an odd, almost hypnotic grace.

I stopped in my tracks, narrowing my eyes to get a better look. It didn’t resemble a firefly. It didn’t resemble anything I’d ever seen before.

Within seconds, the sphere vanished, diving into a nearby bush. I froze, staring intently at the spot where it disappeared, a chill creeping down my spine.

I glanced at the others, but they kept walking as if nothing unusual had happened. Shaking my head, I decided not to dwell on it. Probably just one of those weird things this world likes to throw at me.

I quickly jogged to catch up with the group, though I couldn’t help but steal one last glance at the bush. Something about that light didn’t feel natural. And even though I didn’t want to admit it, a part of me knew this wouldn’t be the last I’d see of it. Because, of course, things around here always work that way.

“Are we there yet?” I asked, letting my frustration slip through every word as I panted like I’d just climbed Mount Everest.

My father nodded, signaling that we had, indeed, arrived. Well, at least that was something.

I collapsed onto my haunches, inhaling and exhaling deeply as I tried to recover. My gaze drifted to my father, who—much to my horror—had started unpacking something from his bag.

First came a helmet. Then some hooks. And finally, the pièce de résistance: a wooden post with a perfectly stretched rope attached to it, was resting on top of the summit. My pupils shrank as the dots connected in my mind.

Zip lines.

Seriously? SERIOUSLY?

There are things one simply doesn’t expect to face after an exhausting climb. A zip line was very, very high on my list of “things I’d like to try someday,” but definitely not today. Today, all I wanted was to rest without dodging rocks, avoiding drowning, or, in this case, hurtling through the air at breakneck speed like the star of some over-the-top action movie.

I buried my face in my hooves, letting out a dramatic sob—with a generous helping of genuine complaints mixed in for good measure.

“I just wanted to relax, for crying out loud” I screamed internally, though with the intensity of someone who had just lost their last shred of dignity.

But there was no time for protests. Before I could come up with a creative excuse to stay behind ("Oh no, I think I forgot something important… like my sanity"), we were already gearing up. One by one, the others launched themselves down the zip line, each letting out cries of excitement or terror.

Finally, it was my turn. My father secured me into position and, without warning, gave me a gentle push.

“AAAAAAHHHHHHHH!” I screamed as I hurtled into the void.

The world around me became a blur of colors and wind. My legs shook as I tried to process everything all at once—the vertigo, the speed, the rush of adrenaline mixed with sheer panic. My scream echoed through the air, though, for the record, there were no tears on my face. (You can’t prove otherwise. No one has evidence.)

After what felt like an eternity (but was probably just a few seconds), I reached the other side. My mom, who was helping with the equipment, unhooked me from the harness and removed the red helmet that had somehow ended up slightly crooked on my head.

Without a word, I trudged a few steps forward, completely drained, before collapsing onto the ground in a pose best described as “ball of defeat.” My back legs folded awkwardly beneath me as I curled up like a snail tired of life.

With effort, I lifted my head just enough to glance at Pinkie Pie’s flank, then at my own. Both were still as blank as ever.

“Perfect. Just perfect.” I let my head drop again, staring into the void as I came to terms with my fate as a pony whose talent remained an unsolved mystery.

There I stayed—a small bundle of frustration, exhaustion, and suppressed sarcasm—wondering how the relaxing weekend I’d planned had somehow turned into a weekend of stress and humiliation.

Author's Note

The second day of camp.

It's a filler episode but a fun one.

The sport of Rockball is sacred in RockVille. Kids play it, adults too, even Grandma plays it! Fun for the whole family. (Safety not included)

Who would say that the physiology of an Equine versus a human can make a person's abilities vary, such as swimming.

Ziplining is on Echo's "Try it someday" list, but it's not the best day for him to do that. But, he's already climbed the hill and can't afford to do the chicken walk... not again.

Echo could see something that caught his eye during the walk, something very curious, a sphere that floated playfully.

Thanks for reading!

Chapter 10: Camping Weekend Part 4

The only adult pony trapped in the cave, Igneous, paced in tight circles, his expression shifting between deep concentration and barely contained panic. The brown rock farmer knew that the lives of his foals—Limestone, Pinkamena, and Echo—were entirely in his hooves. The weight of that responsibility pressed down on him harder than any boulder he’d ever carried.

The hole they had fallen through, a jagged tear in the cave’s ceiling, allowed sunlight to stream down in a stark circle of light that clashed against the surrounding gloom. The fall had been significant, and while none of them were seriously injured, the sheer height of the opening made climbing out impossible without external help.

Igneous mentally cycled through his options as he walked: the rope in their saddlebags would only be useful if someone were up there to secure it. But they were all stuck down here. Climbing? The walls were too smooth and the distance too great. A wild idea flickered in his mind: throwing the foals one by one to the edge. He was strong enough—maybe he could manage it. But the absurdity of the thought made him shudder. Irresponsible. Reckless. A disaster waiting to happen. Only an idiot would try something like that.

Luckily, they had provisions: a few sandwiches and water bottles, enough to last them a day or two if rationed. But the nagging “What if no one comes looking for us?” coiled in his stomach like a snake. He shook his head sharply, refusing to dwell on the worst-case scenario.

Meanwhile, Echo watched his father. The frantic pacing and tense grimaces unsettled him more than the predicament itself. For a moment, he lowered his gaze, the oppressive silence of the cave and the visible worry on his sisters’ faces bearing down on him.

Then, shaking off his doubts, Echo marched up to his father with a determined glint in his eyes.

He had a plan.

With all the seriousness he could muster, Echo declared, “Throw me up there. I’ll secure the rope, and you can all climb out. Easy.”

Igneous froze mid-step, staring at him in stunned silence before responding simply, “No.”

Echo’s hopeful expression crumbled at the curt reply. Igneous returned to pacing, his mind spinning as he struggled to concoct a workable solution.

Suddenly, Igneous halted, resigned to his only viable option for now. He sat down heavily, exhaling as he spoke.

“We have no choice but to wait for help,” he said, forcing a tone of calm that he hoped would stave off panic. “We left a note about where we were heading, so it’s only a matter of time before somepony comes looking for us.”

His words were met with uneasy glances from the foals. It wasn’t much of a plan, but it was the best they had for now—and they accepted it, though not without reservation.

Then, tiny bits of debris fell from the ceiling, landing squarely on Echo’s nose. Startled, he glanced upward, his eyes widening as he noticed cracks spreading from the hole they had made when they fell. The fractures were growing.

Wasting no time, Echo shouted, “CAVE-IN!”

The warning spurred them into action. They bolted toward the nearest tunnel just as larger chunks of debris began crashing down behind them. With one final leap, they cleared the collapsing section, the mountain of rubble sealing off the entrance entirely.

Panting and sprawled on the ground, they caught their breaths. Despite being further into the dark, cavernous tunnel, faint rays of light filtered through cracks in the rubble behind them—a cruel reminder of how close, yet impossibly far, the outside world now was.

Echo was the first to rise, trudging back to the collapsed exit. Despite his earth pony strength, he couldn’t budge even the smallest of the massive boulders blocking their way. They were easily three times his height and precariously wedged together. Trying to move them risked triggering another cave-in.

With a frustrated huff, Echo turned back to the group.

“We’re stuck. No way to dig through unless we want to bury ourselves alive,” he muttered, his irritation palpable.

Igneous nodded grimly, understanding the dire truth of the situation. “When we fell, it must have destabilized the structure, causing the collapse. Be cautious—this cave isn’t stable.”

Their options, already limited, were shrinking further. The odds of a rescue seemed slimmer now. Even if help did arrive, there was the looming threat of another cave-in triggered by any attempt to dig them out.

Once again, Igneous found himself pacing, his mind racing for solutions. His thoughts were interrupted by Pinkamena’s trembling voice.

“A-are we going to be stuck here forever?”

Igneous swallowed hard, the weight of her question settling on his shoulders like a stone. They couldn’t afford despair—not now.

“What if we explored the cave a little?” he suggested, forcing a tone of exaggerated cheerfulness as he pulled a flashlight from his saddlebag and strapped it to his head. “Doesn’t that sound exciting? Like a little adventure!”

Echo raised an eyebrow. He knew exactly what his father was doing: trying to distract them, to soften the harsh reality and keep them from panicking. "We're trapped, but I don’t want you to worry," Echo thought, easily deciphering the serene yet anxious tone in his father’s voice.

Limestone, on the other hoof, looked at Igneous with suspicion.

“Explore? Why? Wouldn’t it be better to just stay here and wait for someone to find us?” she asked, her tone unable to hide her confusion.

Igneous sighed but kept his voice calm.

“Well, the truth is... it might take a while before anyone comes looking for us. And we wouldn’t want to get bored, right? Besides, who knows—there could be a way back to the surface down one of these tunnels. It’s like a little game. What do you think?”

Limestone frowned, clearly unconvinced. Echo, however, saw through his father’s intentions. Despite the discomfort gnawing at him, he looked at his sisters and put on the most enthusiastic smile he could muster.

“Dad’s right!” he said with exaggerated excitement. “This could be fun—like a rescue mission! We could be the bravest explorers in all of Equestria!”

Pinkamena’s ears perked slightly at the idea. Her expression was hard to read, but curiosity began to replace the fear in her wide eyes.

Limestone crossed her hooves and huffed, clearly still annoyed. Eventually, though, she relented.

“Fine, but if I see even one rock fall, I’m bolting,” she grumbled.

Echo let out a triumphant “Ha!” while Igneous silently thanked them for cooperating. Adjusting the flashlight strapped to his head, he led the way into the dark tunnels of the cave, his three foals following close behind.

The flashlight's beam cut through the oppressive darkness as the four ponies ventured deeper into the cavern. The tunnel was wide enough to walk comfortably, but the dancing shadows on the walls and the echo of their hooves created an unsettling atmosphere. Water droplets fell sporadically from the ceiling, splashing into small puddles that amplified the hollow sounds around them.

Long stalactites hung like stone daggers above their heads, while jagged stalagmites rose from the ground, resembling clawed fingers reaching up from the earth. The walls were lined with patches of dark green moss, slick and wet, occasionally interrupted by clusters of mushrooms sprouting in irregular shapes. Their dull, muted colors seemed to blend into the dim light, adding an eerie, almost otherworldly feel to the scene.

The group eventually reached a fork in the tunnel. With no clear markers or sense of direction, Igneous pointed toward one path at random, and they continued walking. Time blurred in the oppressive darkness; without the sun to guide them, minutes stretched into what felt like hours. Despite the distance they covered, there was no sign of an exit.

The sound of their hooves mixed with the dripping water and occasional distant creaks, sending shivers down Pinkamena’s spine. Every sharp noise drew a startled squeak from her, and Echo glanced over at his sister, noting her trembling.

A pang of guilt pricked at him. He then turned to Limestone, who walked with her head held high and a scowl etched on her face. Though she feigned confidence, Echo caught subtle tells—like the way she swallowed hard every so often—that betrayed her unease.

Finally, his gaze landed on Igneous. Their father kept his focus ahead, his expression firm and calm, trying to project reassurance. But the beads of sweat on his brow and the tight set of his jaw spoke volumes about the worry he was trying to suppress.

Echo sighed, deciding he had to break the tension.

“You know,” he began, his voice suddenly light, “I was thinking about that glowing orb we saw earlier. What do you all think it was?”

Limestone shot him a skeptical look. “What?”

“The orb. Come on, don’t you have any theories? Maybe it was a mischievous spirit—or, who knows, a lost magical gem!” Echo suggested, a playful grin on his face.

For a moment, no one said anything. Then Pinkamena’s quiet voice broke the silence:
“I think... it was a ghost!” she blurted, her eyes wide with a mix of fear and fascination. “A ghost that got bored of floating around here and decided to scare us!”

Limestone snorted, though a small part of her was tempted to join in.

“That’s ridiculous. It was probably... I don’t know, some trapped gas. Like when rocks have air pockets inside and they burst or something.”

Echo exaggerated his tone as he countered, “Or maybe it was the guardian of an ancient treasure, and we’ve been chosen to find it!”

The three of them started tossing ideas back and forth, each theory more absurd than the last. Even Igneous glanced back with the faintest hint of amusement as he listened. For a brief moment, their shared amusement drowned out the oppressive darkness and uncertainty of the cave, offering a small yet powerful reprieve.

Time seemed to stretch endlessly in the dimly lit tunnels as the group pressed forward through the sprawling labyrinth of the cave. Every so often, small bits of dirt and rock fell from the ceiling, breaking the silence with a deep echo. At first, these incidents had been sporadic, but Echo soon noticed they were becoming more frequent, enough to plant a growing seed of unease in his chest.

“I think we should get prepared,” Echo suggested, his tone cautious but firm.

Igneous nodded, the forced calm on his face slipping just enough to show he shared the same concern.

“Good idea. Better safe than sorry.”

The three foals shrugged off their saddlebags, pulling out the helmets they had used during the climb along with their flashlights. With some adhesive tape, they secured the flashlights to the helmets. The faint clicks of switches filled the air as their makeshift headlamps illuminated, casting shaky beams of light across the jagged walls.

The tunnels continued to branch into an unending tangle of indistinguishable paths, with no markers or clues to guide them. Left with no better options, they relied on sheer luck, picking a random direction whenever they encountered a fork in the path.

Everything seemed fine until a sharp crack echoed from above. A faint tremor shook the cave, sending a drizzle of dust cascading from the ceiling. The noise grew louder, and a rock the size of a basketball broke free with a chilling crunch, plummeting directly toward Pinkie.

“Pinkamena, look out!” Echo shouted, acting on instinct.

He lunged forward with all his strength, shoving Pinkamena out of harm’s way just in time. The rock smashed into the ground with a heavy thud, scattering shards in all directions. Pinkamena landed on her side, her breaths coming fast and shallow as she stared wide-eyed at the rock mere inches away.

“Pinkamena!” Igneous cried, rushing to her with a mix of alarm and tenderness. He knelt beside the filly, placing a protective hoof on her shoulder and speaking in a calming tone.

“Shh, it’s over now. You’re safe, it’s okay,” he murmured softly as Pinkamena burst into tears, curling against him.

Echo, still catching his breath, stepped back, his eyes locked on the heartwarming scene of his father comforting Pinkie. A pang of guilt gnawed at him, a voice in his mind accusing him of not doing enough. Unconsciously, he backed away until he bumped into Limestone, who had been silently observing.

“What were you thinking?” Limestone muttered, her voice low enough for only Echo to hear.

Echo turned slowly, meeting Limestone’s sharp gaze. Usually marked by irritation, her expression now carried something different—genuine anger mixed with worry.

“What do you mean?” Echo asked, stalling for time to process her tone.

Limestone hesitated for a brief second before letting loose, her words blunt and cutting. “I’m talking about your idea—this whole thing is happening because of your stupid, stupid idea. What were you thinking when you suggested this?”

Echo dropped his gaze, his response catching in his throat. He was about to stammer an apology when a deafening crack filled the air.

“Look out!” Igneous shouted, his voice echoing in the enclosed space.

The ground trembled beneath their hooves as the ceiling began to give way. Rocks large and small rained down, filling the tunnel with a suffocating cloud of dust. Within seconds, a wall of debris came crashing down, splitting the group in two.

The rocks piled quickly, forming a nearly impenetrable barrier that blocked all visibility between the two sides of the tunnel. Jagged fragments jutted out at sharp angles, and the dust hung in the air like a gray veil, choking and obscuring everything. Echo’s flashlight cast flickering shadows against the walls, while the last echoes of falling stones reverberated through the cave.

For a moment, silence reigned, broken only by the heavy breathing of the ponies on either side of the collapse.

“Echorellian? Limestone? Are you okay?” Igneous’s muffled voice called out from the other side, mixed with the faint sobs of Pinkamena.

“We’re fine!” Echo shouted back, though his heart was pounding erratically in his chest. He turned to Limestone, who was brushing dust off her helmet.

“What do we do now?” Limestone asked, her voice edged with her usual harshness, though her concern was impossible to miss.

The silence in the cave was suffocating, broken only by the sound of Echo’s labored breathing as he struggled to regain his composure. His chest rose and fell rapidly, and he instinctively placed a hoof against it, trying to steady the frantic rhythm of his heart. Finally, he let out a long sigh, releasing some of the tension that had coiled tightly within him.

"Alright..." he murmured to himself, more as a reminder than a statement.

He lifted his gaze to Limestone, who was still staring at him, her expression expectant, waiting for direction. Then, he turned toward the wall of rocks that now stood between them and the rest of the group. It was imposing—a jumbled barricade of large boulders and smaller debris that made any immediate attempt to cross seem impossible. Echo stepped closer to inspect it, carefully avoiding sharp stones that could spell an injury with one misstep.

“How are you guys holding up?” he called out, raising his voice to ensure it carried through the dense barrier.

For a moment, there was only silence. Then, Igneous’s voice emerged from the other side, muffled but unmistakably steady.

“We’re okay, just a little shaken. Pinkamena’s starting to breathe normally again.”

Echo nodded to himself, though he knew they couldn’t see him. Taking a deep breath, he spoke again, his tone carrying an uncommon weight of seriousness.

“It doesn’t look like we can break through this wall. I think our best bet is to search for another path. We’ll keep moving and try to meet up again somewhere. If either of us finds the exit first, we’ll get help.”

His words echoed briefly in the tunnel before fading into the oppressive stillness. The response took a moment, as if Igneous was carefully choosing what to say.

“I’m afraid that’s our only option... Both of you, stay safe. Don’t worry—we’ll be fine.”

And just like that, they were separated.

Two groups divided by an unyielding wall of stone. Trapped in a labyrinth of tunnels resembling an anthill. Armed with only a handful of supplies, helmets strapped with flashlights, and no idea where to go next.

It was far from the ideal final day of camp they’d envisioned.

Author's Note

The group finds themselves trapped inside a cavern that is prone to frequent collapses, lost within a labyrinth of tunnels.

All they have is each other, but another collapse splits them into two groups of two:

Group 1: Igneous and Pinkamena

Group 2: Limestone and Echo

Separated with no clear way out, they only have flashlights and limited supplies.

Thanks for reading!

Chapter 11: Camping Weekend Part 5

Surely hours must have passed since we first started wandering through these tunnels. The darkness, the heavy air, and the occasional sound of rocks shifting did little to calm our nerves. Things only got worse when the ceiling decided to collapse, splitting our group in two. Now, an imposing wall of debris separates us, and it doesn’t look like something we’ll be able to overcome anytime soon.

Thankfully, Pinkie is with my father. He’s strong, dependable, and the one person or pony I trust completely to keep her safe. If anyone can handle things on the other side, it’s him.

As for me, I’m stuck with Limestone. My older sister. She’s tough, with a patience you could measure on the hoof of one leg, and a tongue sharper than a jagged rock. But deep down, I know all of that comes from how much she cares about her family, even if she’ll never admit it.

Since we got separated, she’s been quieter than usual. I suppose there’s not much to say right now, especially after our earlier conversation got cut off. I, on the other hoof, can’t seem to sit still. I took the lead, guiding us through any tunnel that looked even slightly less threatening. It’s not exactly a brilliant plan, but standing around won’t solve anything either.

We’d been walking for what felt like forever. Thankfully, our headlamps were still holding up, but each step felt heavier than the last. These tunnels were an endless maze; they all looked the same, with the only differences being the number of stalactites or the moss clinging to the walls. Even those small variations weren’t helpful for figuring out where we were. As we pressed on, I could feel exhaustion creeping in, and if I was starting to feel it, I was sure Limestone was too—though she’d never admit it.

But I could see it in her eyes, in the way her jaw clenched and her shoulders tensed with each step. Her frustration was like a pressure cooker, ready to explode.

And finally, it did.

“We’re never getting out of this Tartarus-forsaken tunnel!” she yelled, her voice booming against the cave walls, bouncing back in deafening echoes. Then she dropped to the ground, utterly spent and on the verge of tears.

I rushed to her side, doing my best to stay calm.
“Take it easy, Limestone. It’s okay. We’ll figure this out. We’ll find a way out of here,” I said, trying to sound convincing, even though I felt just as lost inside.

But my words only made things worse.

“Are you kidding me?” she snapped, her voice brimming with anger and despair. “Stop pretending like everything’s going to be fine! We’re lost, Echo! Lost in a deep, dark cave with no contact with anyone. No one’s going to find us, and no one’s ever going to see us again!”

Her words hit like a slap, but I didn’t have time to process them before she continued, her tone spiraling into panic.

“We’re going to…” Her voice broke, like she couldn’t even bring herself to say it. “We’re going to die here. Forgotten. Trapped in this horrible cave. And it’s all your fault.”

That last part was like a punch to the chest. I froze, stunned, as she swallowed hard and let it all pour out.

“This is all your fault!” she shouted, her voice trembling with both anger and sadness. “We were perfectly fine back on the farm, but nooo, you had to suggest this stupid camping trip! ‘A weekend in nature!’ What a great idea, Echo. And not just that, you saw that cursed glowing orb and decided to chase it like there’d be no consequences! This is all on you!”

I opened my mouth to respond, to calm her down, to explain something—anything—that might ease her anger. But before I could get a word out, she cut me off with a furious cry.

“For Celestia’s sake, we’re rock farmers!” she exclaimed, her voice a mix of fury and desperation. “That’s who we are. We’re not adventurers, we’re not explorers, we’re not cut out for any of this! And yet here we are because you thought it would be a great idea to leave the farm and camp in the middle of the woods. This never should’ve happened!”

I tried again to interject, my voice a feeble murmur compared to her rage.
“Limestone, I just… I didn’t know… I was only trying—”

“Don’t you dare try to justify this!” she growled, crushing my words with her own. “And the worst part is the way you’ve been acting since we got here! You’re acting strange, Echo—stranger than usual. Ever since we left Rockville, you’ve been… off. Sticking to Pinkamena like her shadow, making every activity we planned seem pointless or boring. And now this!”

Her words cut deep, sharper than any jagged rock in the cave. The worst part was, she wasn’t wrong. I couldn’t tell her the truth; I couldn’t explain that I was trying to prevent a catastrophic change in Pinkamena’s fate. But my silence only made her angrier.

“Why, Echo? Why did you even do all of this if you don’t care? This was your idea! You wanted to go out into the woods, and now you’re acting like it was a mistake from the start! It’s like you were trying to sabotage us from the very beginning!”

"That’s not it!" I exclaimed, my voice cracking under the weight of my own confusion and despair. "Limestone, I was just—"

"Shut up!" she shouted, her voice booming through the cave walls like thunder, snuffing out any chance of a reply. Tears welled in her eyes as she continued, her words now fractured by raw emotion.

"This is a disaster... and it's all your fault. We're stuck here, Echo. Lost. There's no way out, no rescue, no hope. And all because you decided to chase after that glowing orb, because you just couldn't leave it alone. What are we supposed to do now? How are we supposed to get out of this nightmare?"

Her voice cracked more and more as she spoke until she ended in a heartbreaking sob. Limestone—the strongest, toughest one of us all—was breaking down in front of me. Tears streamed down her face as she tried to hide them with her hooves, turning away, unable to meet my gaze.

It was a sight I never thought I’d see. Limestone, the unshakable rock of our family, crumbling.

I approached her slowly, every step weighted by the sting of her accusations—accusations I knew were justified. Carefully, I reached out and touched her shoulder with my hoof, a fleeting, hesitant gesture, testing if she would push me away. But she didn’t. So, I sat down beside her, letting the echo of her sobs fill the tunnel.

She was right.

This was my fault.

It had been my idea to leave the farm. I’d pushed for this camping trip, thinking it would be fun, a little break from the routine. And when I saw that magical orb, I didn’t think. I just acted. I chased it, drawn in by curiosity, never once considering the risk.

My actions had brought us here, trapped in this place. And worst of all, Pinkie—one of the bearers of the Elements of Harmony—was now in danger because of my stupidity. If anything happened to her here, if she couldn’t fulfill her destiny, all of Equestria could be at risk. And it would be my fault.

I clenched my jaw, fighting the weight of guilt threatening to crush me. I wasn’t a colt—not really. I had the mind of an adult. And as an adult, I knew this was my responsibility to fix.

I stood up with a renewed sense of determination, looking down at Limestone, still slumped on the ground.

"I’ll get us out of here," I said, my voice steady, infused with as much confidence as I could muster. Whether I was trying to convince her or myself, I wasn’t sure.

Suddenly, a sound broke through the heavy silence.

"Limestone? Echo?"

The unmistakable voice of Igneous reverberated through the tunnels, echoing and multiplying.

Hope surged like a beam of light in the darkness.

"It’s our father!" I exclaimed, turning to Limestone. She lifted her head slowly, tears still fresh on her cheeks.

"We’re here!" I shouted, my voice ricocheting off the walls, the echoes amplifying my desperation and hope all at once.

A few agonizing seconds passed before a response came:

"Don’t move! We’re coming to you!"

It was Igneous’ voice, and with it came a spark of hope that ignited something deep inside me.

Limestone, beside me, raised her head. Her eyes, though still wet with tears, carried a flicker of relief.

"See?" I said with a weak smile, trying to project more confidence than I felt. "They’ll find us!"

Time dragged on at an agonizing pace. Every so often, the echo of our father’s or Pinkamena’s voices would call out again, and Limestone would respond quickly, her tone a mix of urgency and exhaustion.

"We’re right here!" she’d shout, only for her words to hang in the air before fading. Then her expression began to shift, her brow furrowing.

"Doesn’t this seem strange to you?" she muttered after a while, looking at me with a frown. "The sound... it’s coming from both sides."

I froze for a moment, processing her words. Both sides? I turned my head toward one tunnel, then the other. My heart began to race as an unsettling realization clawed at my chest.

"Wait... did you say both sides?" I asked, my voice trembling slightly.

Limestone nodded, her expression teetering between suspicion and panic.

I stayed silent, straining to listen more closely. She was right. Igneous’ voice seemed to be coming from two opposite directions, bouncing off the cave walls. The truth hit me like a falling boulder.

"No..." I whispered, my stomach twisting in knots. "It can’t be."

"What is it?" Limestone asked, her tone now laced with fear.

I took a deep breath, stepping closer to her and lowering my voice as though speaking it aloud would make it worse.

"It’s the echo," I said slowly, each word weighed down by the gravity of the situation. "Their voices aren’t actually close. It’s just the sound bouncing through the tunnels."

Limestone stared at me, her expression shifting rapidly from confusion to horror.

“Are you saying… they have no idea where we are?”

I nodded grimly, my heart sinking as the hope that had lit her face just moments ago faded once again.

“Father!” I shouted again, this time with a sharper focus. “Stop! The echo is confusing the directions. We don’t know where you are, and you don’t know where we are!”

An agonizing silence followed before Igneous’s voice responded.

“What are you saying? We hear you right here!”

I closed my eyes briefly, frustrated with myself for not noticing sooner.

“No!” I yelled back, my voice trembling slightly. “It’s a sound trick! The tunnels are making it bounce around! We need a different way to locate each other.”

Limestone let out a low growl and kicked a nearby rock, sending it tumbling a few meters away.

“This is a disaster…” she muttered, her words so heavy they mirrored my own thoughts.

I took a deep breath. I couldn’t let her spiral again—not after everything we’d just been through.

“Okay, listen to me,” I said, stepping in front of her and gently holding her shoulders to get her full attention. “We can still get out of this, but we need to think. If we can’t rely on sound, we have to find something else to guide us. Maybe markings on the walls, airflow… something.”

She stared at me for a long moment, her gaze skeptical but slightly less desperate.

“And if we don’t find anything?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, weighed down with doubt.

“Then we’ll yell until Father digs all the way to the core of Equestria to find us,” I said, attempting a smile, though the joke came out more strained than I intended.

An uneasy silence settled between us, broken only by our breathing and the persistent echo of the tunnels. But at least, for now, Limestone didn’t seem on the verge of breaking down again.

That was a start.

“All right, Echo,” I told myself mentally, scanning our surroundings. “Focus.” Rocks, dirt, puddles, moss... Nothing useful at first glance. But there has to be something.

My mind began racing, sifting through the fragments of knowledge I’d collected from Rockville’s modest library. Carpentry, rocks, crystals... not much else. Come on, brain! Pull some semblance of a genius idea from this mess. Don’t fail me now!

I closed my eyes, trying to organize my thoughts. An irritating itch tickled my head, and my eye twitched involuntarily. It felt like my mind was taking on a physical form, as though I could visualize my train of thought unraveling in front of me.

In my imagination, a massive, luminous tree began to take shape—what I liked to call my Decision Tree. It towered before me, its branches heavy with information, notes, and details, like a map of possibilities waiting to be explored.

From a central trunk sprouted countless branches, each laden with “leaves” representing snippets of knowledge. Every new fork in the tree opened up paths yet unexplored.

Rocks. I focused on them, and a branch thick with “leaves” sprouted: detailed notes of different colors, textures, and types of minerals. Images and data floated to the surface—hardness levels, practical uses... but nothing seemed helpful for escaping this maze.

“Fine,” I thought, moving to another branch. Dirt. I visualized granules of sand, their composition, possible variations in color or moisture… Still, nothing relevant for these depths.

My eyes settled on the moss clinging to the walls, small patches of dark green that seemed to grow aimlessly.

Moss, then.

In my mind’s eye, the moss branch expanded, sprouting new leaves and branches as I dredged up fragmented memories. Different moss types, growth conditions, medicinal properties... And then a specific detail emerged. Caves, Rocks, and Mosses, Third Edition. A glowing page caught my attention: moss that illuminated in complete darkness.

My eyes flew open as I snapped back to the present. “Wait a second!”

The tree vanished from my mind as I returned to reality. Stepping closer to the moss on the wall, I raised a hoof to touch it. Its surface felt damp and slippery as I examined it closely.

“What are you doing?” Limestone asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Give me a moment,” I replied, my mind still racing. “Moss, moss... what was it about bioluminescent moss?”

The memory struck like lightning: a certain species of moss, found in caves, that glowed only in complete darkness.

A spark of excitement lit my face.

“Of course!” I exclaimed, turning to Limestone. “Limestone, turn off your lantern.” My voice was rushed, brimming with anticipation.

“What? Why?” she demanded, crossing her hooves in defiance.

“Trust me. I need you to do this.”

“What kind of ridiculous plan is this? Turning off the lights here would be a disaster!”

“Please, Limestone. Just for a minute. Trust me.”

With an exasperated sigh and a look of doubt, she finally relented and switched off her lantern. I followed suit.

Darkness enveloped us completely, so dense it felt tangible. I couldn’t see my hoof in front of my face; it was as if the world had ceased to exist.

For a moment, there was only silence, our breathing echoing faintly in the tunnel. Then, something began to change.

A faint, eerie green glow appeared above us, like scattered stars in a night sky. The moss on the ceiling was beginning to shimmer timidly, each glowing speck growing in intensity.

“Look!” I whispered, as if speaking louder might break the magic of the moment.

Soon, more and more patches of moss began to light up, revealing winding patterns that extended along the walls and floor. It was as if we were standing inside a natural cathedral, adorned with celestial lights. The once oppressive tunnel transformed into a dreamlike pathway illuminated by a soft, magical glow.

Limestone stood slack-jawed, her wide eyes taking in the sight.

“This is... incredible,” she said, her voice full of awe, completely forgetting the despair she’d felt just moments ago.

I was just as mesmerized. Each glimmer of light seemed to dance, reflecting off the damp surfaces and creating an ethereal, almost otherworldly atmosphere. It felt like stepping into a living painting, a masterpiece crafted by nature itself.

“See?” I said with a small smile. “I told you. The moss is showing us the way.”

Limestone nodded, still dazzled. For the first time in hours, hope seemed tangible again.

“This... might actually work. But how is this possible?” Limestone asked, her tone a mix of amazement and confusion as her gaze kept darting around the glowing display.

“Schistostega pennata,” I replied, unable to hide the excitement in my voice. “This moss glows to optimize photosynthesis. Its protonema—the internal filaments—stores water to capture even the faintest light in dark environments like this.”

Limestone shot me a flat look.

“In plain Equestrian, please.”

I sighed, trying to simplify. “Basically, it glows because it needs light to survive, and this is its trick to make the most out of even the tiniest bit of light. It wasn’t glowing before because we had our lanterns on.”

“Oh...” Her expression was still skeptical, but at least she looked a little impressed. “And how do you even know all this?”

I shrugged with a small, ironic smile. “I guess spending hours reading every book in Rockville’s library finally paid off.”

Limestone let out a small snort, though she tried to hide it. I took that as a cue to focus back on the task at hoof.

“Dad! Pinkamena!” I shouted down the tunnel, my voice echoing off the walls. “Turn off all your lights!”

There was a moment of silence before my father’s voice came, sounding doubtful.

“What? Why?”

“Just trust me! Turn them off! You’ll understand in a minute.”

A long pause followed, filled with hesitation, but finally, I knew they had done as I asked. On their end, the darkness deepened.

The moss’s glow began to extend slowly in their direction, spreading its soft light like a nocturnal river. The walls and ceiling filled with gleaming dots, forming a clear path between us.

“Look at the moss!” I shouted again, trying to keep my voice steady. “Follow where there’s more moss. The brightest path will lead us to each other.”

My father’s response came, tinged with awe and relief.

“Understood. We’ll follow it to you.”

I lowered the hoof holding my unlit lantern and turned to Limestone. “See? It works.”

She exhaled, but this time it wasn’t out of frustration. “I don’t know what amazes me more—the moss or the fact that you actually found something useful with your nerdy book smarts.”

I let out a small laugh and allowed myself a moment of pride. “Hey, even a nerd has his moments of glory.”

With a more serious and confident expression, I pointed toward the brightest part of the moss-covered tunnel. “This moss might guide us to an exit. It grows in places with a slight airflow, which means there could be a tunnel or crevice nearby that leads outside.”

Limestone nodded silently, her gaze returning to the glowing path ahead. The tension between us eased, and for the first time in hours, desperation gave way to something new: hope.

Together, we started walking toward the direction where the moss grew brightest.

Author's Note

With no apparent way to reunite or escape, Limestone reaches her breaking point and vents her frustration on Echo—pulling no punches with her words.

A faint glimmer of hope emerges when they hear the voices of the other group. But as the sound seems to come from both directions, they realize the terrible truth: the echoing tunnels are disorienting them, leaving them utterly unsure of where the others are.

Determined to overcome this, Echo draws upon everything he’s absorbed over the years, tapping into his personal “Tree of Wisdom,” a mental repository of knowledge he’s collected throughout his life.

They stumble upon bioluminescent moss that illuminates the path when they turn off their flashlights, rekindling their hope.

Thanks for reading!

Chapter 12: Camping Weekend Part 6

Despite being trapped in deep tunnels, surrounded by total darkness, the lights above our heads now shone like stars in a night sky, guiding us toward the right path. It was almost celestial—a flicker of hope amidst the uncertainty.

We had uncovered the secret of the glowing moss, its radiance marking the safe route. What had once been a chaotic maze of forks and random choices had turned into a luminous map. Limestone and I ran, following the moss with renewed confidence. Wherever its glow grew brighter, we knew that was the way forward.

After several minutes of traversing the tunnels, we arrived at a massive chamber—an open space where the walls and ceiling were covered in an explosion of glowing moss. It was as if the entire room had been adorned with green stars and emeralds. To the left, a tunnel connected to the area, and soon the sound of hurried hoofsteps reached our ears.

Then, we saw them. My father, Igneous, and my sister, Pinkamena, emerged from the dimness, their faces illuminated not only by the moss but also by the joy of reunion. Without hesitation, they rushed toward us, and in an instant, we were enveloped in a tight embrace. The overwhelming relief of having them close again left me breathless.

“Thank Celestia you’re safe...” my father murmured, his voice breaking as he held us tightly.

After a few moments, I broke away from the hug, my eyes wandering around the chamber as I tried to take in our surroundings. The walls and ceiling were a breathtaking sight, but what truly caught my attention was at the far end of the room. There, standing before a large patch of radiant green moss, was something unusual—a massive stone... no, a statue.

The sculpture depicted a generic earth pony standing on its hind legs, holding an enormous boulder above its head. It seemed to be a mix of a tribute and a warning.

“What is this?” I asked, looking at the others. My tone carried both curiosity and a hint of bewilderment. Pinkamena and Limestone mirrored my expression; it wasn’t something any of us recognized.

That’s when my father, wearing an expression of awe and reverence, spoke in a hushed tone, as if afraid to disturb the solemnity of the moment.

“We’re in the Pie Family Cavern.”

A profound silence followed.

Pie Family Cavern? That didn’t sound like anything I’d heard of—not even in my past life, when I used to watch the show on TV. Sure, I didn’t know every single episode, but I was fairly confident this wasn’t canon.

“What do you mean? What’s going on here?” I managed to ask, my voice tinged with disbelief.

Igneous stepped closer to the statue, his expression solemn. Carefully, he extended a hoof and rested it on the boulder the sculpted pony was holding.

“Generations ago, our ancestors told stories about this cavern. They said it was connected to our family—that it recorded the presence of every member born into our lineage and possessed special properties.”

He paused, his gaze fixed on the statue as if he were seeing something beyond what was visible.

“There was a tradition. When they reached a certain age, young members of the family were drawn to this place, guided by... something they couldn’t explain. Once inside, they would find ‘something’ unique and face a trial. They would leave changed—stronger, more confident... some might even say more magical.”

The air in the chamber grew heavier, laden with tension. Limestone, Pinkamena, and I exchanged glances, holding our breath.

“And what happened to this tradition?” I asked softly.

My father sighed before continuing.

“Over time, the entrance to the cavern suffered collapses. Dust and debris fell until one day, it was completely sealed off. From then on, this cavern became nothing more than a family tale—something shared to instill pride in our roots. But no one expected to see it again.”

He paused before turning to us, his expression a mixture of disbelief and what I could only describe as reverent fear.

“Children... I think we’ve found the ‘something.’”

His words hung in the air, and for a moment, the only sound was the faint hum of our breathing until I broke the silence.

“WHAT!?” I shouted, my voice echoing throughout the cavern and tunnels. This felt like one of those moments when your parents suddenly decide to drop the craziest lore bomb of your life out of nowhere and with zero warning.

I looked back at the statue, trying to piece everything together. This wasn’t part of My Little Pony. It wasn’t part of what I knew. What did this mean? My mind spun with questions, but there was no time to process them... or at least not those questions, not yet.

Clearing my throat to regain my composure, I ventured, “So... they were ‘guided.’ I’m guessing that refers to turning off the lights and following the moss path, like we did. Or maybe the floating orb that led us here?”

“That’s what I think,” my father responded, his voice still tinged with awe as he surveyed the room.

"And this must be the 'something' they were meant to find," I added, pointing at the statue with my hoof. "But you said they left the cave renewed. That means there has to be an exit in this chamber, right? I doubt they would’ve had to go back through the labyrinth of tunnels."

"But what if that exit is blocked too?" Limestone exclaimed, her tone tinged with unease.

"It's possible, but if there's an exit, it's probably well-hidden. Otherwise, the whole idea of traversing the labyrinth and following the moss wouldn't make sense. They could've just entered here directly. We should at least try to find it," I said, absentmindedly tracing small circles on the ground with my hoof as I thought aloud.

With an improvised plan, we spread out across the chamber, searching for any sign of a hidden exit.

The silence in the cave was palpable, broken only by the echo of our hooves striking the stone floor. Limestone examined the walls, carefully running her hooves along the cracks. Pinkamena, surprisingly serious for once, inspected the ceiling with quiet curiosity, while Igneous moved slowly around the chamber's perimeter, each step measured, as if he were trying to feel something intangible. As for me, I couldn't take my eyes off the statue.

I approached it, tilting my head as I studied every detail. There was something mesmerizing about the stone's texture—a polished marble solidity masked by layers of dust and moss, making it seem like any ordinary rock. It felt as if it had been placed here deliberately, waiting to be discovered.

"This feels like something straight out of an Indiana Jones movie," I thought, a mix of excitement and anxiety coursing through me. Were we really in an Equestrian-style adventure? It felt like I was living one of those fantasy stories, except with the added discomfort of not having a script to follow.

As I was lost in my inspection, I didn’t notice someone else approaching until I heard their voice.

"What are you thinking?" Igneous asked, now standing beside me, his gaze fixed on the statue as well.

"You said they faced a trial once they found this place," I replied, my eyes never leaving the sculpture. "If that's true, there has to be something here, something we've missed."

Both of us studied the statue with renewed focus. Then, driven by a mix of curiosity and instinct, my father reached out and touched the moss covering the stone. Carefully, he brushed some of the luminous vegetation aside.

Suddenly, I saw his eyes widen, and he took a small step back.

"What is it?" I asked, moving closer quickly.

Without answering, Igneous began cleaning the statue more vigorously, brushing away not only the moss but also layers of accumulated dust. When the marble surface finally emerged, we both stared in silence.

There was something carved into it—a message etched into the stone, hidden for who knows how long. It was a cryptic mix of wisdom and challenge. With a steady, resonant voice, my father read it aloud:

"The strongest stones are not those that shine on the surface but those that conceal treasures within. To find the way out, press that which withstands time. The right pieces will open the path."

His solemn tone echoed throughout the chamber, and when he finished, silence fell over us once again. We exchanged glances.

"What does that mean?" Limestone asked, frowning.

"I think... it's a clue." My mind raced, breaking down the words of the message. Treasures within… right pieces…

I turned to scan the chamber, my gaze darting across every corner. There were stones everywhere, many of them covered in moss, but a few larger and older ones stood out, looking distinctly different.

"We need to find those 'right pieces.' 'Withstands time' likely refers to the stones," I said, my tone urgent yet excited. "And if they really are 'hidden treasures,' they might have some unique feature. Something only someone knowledgeable about rocks would recognize."

My father nodded slowly, his eyes glinting with a mix of pride and determination.

“This is something our ancestors would have done. Listen, children. We are rock farmers, this test is directed at us and as Pie we are going to solve it.”

We immediately got to work. Although the message felt abstract, something told me the answer lay in the details. The words repeated in my mind: The right pieces will open the path.

"Alright, what do we know about rocks?" I asked, taking the lead without even realizing it.

"They're hard and boring. Does that count?" Pinkamena quipped, rolling her eyes.

"Actually, there's a lot more to them than that," I replied, unfazed. "Rocks aren’t just hard; they’re records of time, pressure, and minerals. Each one has its own story. So let's look for those stories."

Igneous nodded, clearly proud of my reasoning.

"Let’s start with the basics. What exactly are we looking for?"

I scanned the room. The walls and floor were covered with rocks of various sizes and colors. But a few stood out: darker ones with gleaming quartz veins and metallic flecks.

"The message mentioned 'hidden treasures.' It’s probably something that stands out—not for its shine but for what it contains. Perhaps rare minerals or an unusual structure," I explained.

Limestone approached one of the larger rocks, carefully inspecting it. Pinkamena, on the other hoof, seemed more interested in tapping on the walls as if expecting to hear something. Igneous knelt near a flat rock covered in moss, examining it like an ancient map.

As for me, my focus landed on a formation that felt out of place: a round rock embedded with pyrite crystals, also known as "fool’s gold."

"Pyrite?" I muttered, recognizing its distinctive shimmer. I stepped closer, carefully brushing off the accumulated dust. My thoughts began branching out like the limbs of a massive tree. Pyrite, while not valuable like gold, has a fascinating cubic structure and often symbolizes durability and deception. Perhaps this was one of the keys.

"I found something!" Limestone’s voice rang out from the other side of the room.

I rushed over to see what she had discovered: a small cluster of basalt columns with hexagonal shapes.

"Basalt columns. Interesting," I said, my excitement building. Basalt columns form when lava cools slowly, creating nearly perfect geometric shapes. Something this specific couldn’t be a coincidence.

Pinkamena joined us, carrying a rock encrusted with translucent crystals.

"This one’s pretty. Does it help?"

"Milky quartz," I replied quickly, recognizing the material. "It has piezoelectric properties—meaning it generates energy when pressure is applied."

"So, what now? Do we touch them, move them?" Limestone asked, her impatience clear.

Igneous, who had been quiet, finally spoke.

"The message said the right stones will open the path. If these are the right ones, they may need to be placed together or activated somehow."

"Or pressed, like the message mentioned," I added. "Though there has to be more to it than just that."

My father suddenly perked up and pointed toward the flat rocks he had been examining earlier, positioned perfectly in front of the statue.

"Perhaps they need to be placed here," he said. "There are three of them, arranged like pedestals."

We gathered in front of the statue, placing the three stones—the pyrite, basalt, and quartz—carefully on the flat surfaces. The air grew heavy with anticipation, as though the cave itself was holding its breath.

"Now what?" Pinkamena asked, looking at me.

"Now… we try pressing them simultaneously," I said.

Each of us took a stone. On the count of three, we pressed them down with our hooves.

A faint tremor rippled through the ground, followed by a low, guttural sound, as if the cave itself was waking up. The statue before us began to glow, its eyes emitting a brilliant blue light.

"It’s working!" Limestone exclaimed, stepping back.

The statue moved slowly, the grinding of stone against stone echoing through the room. It slid to the side, revealing a rising tunnel behind it. A soft breeze wafted through, carrying the scent of fresh, damp air.

I stared at it in awe, unable to suppress a satisfied grin.

"Well, looks like we passed the test," I said, a note of pride in my voice.

Igneous placed a hoof on my shoulder, his gaze full of pride and gratitude. "You did well, Echo. Very well."

I felt a small blush creep up but quickly shrugged it off, returning to my usual demeanor. "Of course I did. This challenge never stood a chance against four rock farmers."

Pinkamena nodded proudly, and for a moment, the tension lifted. We began heading toward the ascending tunnel, leaving behind the moss-lit chamber and the statue, which now stood like a silent guardian watching over us.

But we had only taken a few steps when a deep, ominous sound stopped us in our tracks.

CRACK!

I looked up just in time to see small clouds of dust drifting from the ceiling. The particles floated in the air like a warning of something far worse.

"What was that?" Limestone asked, alarmed, as a stone the size of my head crashed to the floor with a deafening thud.

"The ceiling’s collapsing!" my father shouted, his eyes wide with panic.

Within seconds, the dust became a cascade of debris, and the room trembled with an intensity that made it nearly impossible to stay upright.

"Run for the tunnel!" Igneous commanded, his voice cutting through the chaos.

The others bolted, but as I prepared to follow, something caught my attention. In the center of the room, where nothing had been before, a faint pink glow began to take shape.

The orb.

It appeared floating as before, but this time its light was dimmer, as if it were losing energy. Before I could react, it fell to the ground with a metallic clink that somehow rose above the roar of the collapsing cavern. The light vanished, leaving behind a small, polished, star-shaped pink crystal.

"Echo! What are you doing?!" Limestone’s voice echoed faintly from the tunnel, barely audible over the sound of falling rocks.

I knew I had to run, but this whole mess was caused by that wretched thing. Something about the crystal told me it was important. I couldn’t just leave it behind—this was the first magical object I’d ever seen, and, by Celestia, I was going to figure out what it was.

"Just a second!" I shouted back, though I doubted she could hear me.

I bolted toward the center of the room, dodging falling rocks as dust thickened the air, turning every breath into a scratchy, labored effort. Reaching the crystal, I grabbed it just as a large stone crashed nearby, shaking the ground beneath my hooves.

The crystal was cool against my hoof, surprisingly light, but it seemed to hum with latent energy, as if some force was still trapped inside its core.

I looked up to see the collapse worsening. The walls cracked and groaned, and the ceiling was on the verge of complete failure.

"Echo, move it!" Pinkamena’s voice cut through the chaos like lightning.

Clutching the crystal tightly, I ran toward the tunnel with every ounce of strength I had. Stones crashed down all around me, smashing into the floor in a deadly rhythm. I barely made it through the tunnel’s entrance when a massive boulder fell, sealing the room behind me.

I collapsed to the ground, panting, my heart pounding like a drum.

"What were you thinking?!" Limestone demanded, storming over with a mix of anger and concern.

"Sorry," I gasped, holding up the crystal. "But I couldn’t leave this behind."

Everyone’s eyes locked onto the object in my hoof. The crystal, now dull and unassuming, still carried an aura of mystery, filling the air with a strange weight.

My father was the first to speak.

"Is that the orb?"

I nodded, still catching my breath.

"Yeah. I couldn’t let it get buried under tons of rubble—not after everything we’ve been through."

Pinkamena leaned closer, inspecting the crystal with a curious look.

"It’s pretty. But also kinda creepy, don’t you think?"

"Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out later," Igneous said firmly. "Right now, we need to get out of here before something else collapses."

"For the thousandth time," I muttered.

We nodded silently and started ascending the tunnel. As we climbed, I couldn’t shake the symbolic weight of the crystal in my hoof.

As we left the cavern behind, the air still heavy with dust and mystery, My mind still had one question. What was this crystal, really?

Ugh, I’m going to need a vacation from my vacation.

Author's Note

The Pie exploration group finally reunites in the depths of the cave.

To their amazement, they discover the fabled “Pie Family Cavern”—an ancient legend that Igneous had always dismissed as mere myth. Until now.

Using their ingenuity and their extensive knowledge of, well, rocks, they manage to overcome the cavern’s challenges and open a path to escape. However, their actions trigger yet another collapse.

Just as they’re about to make it out, Echo spots the orb again. This time, it transforms into a pink/purple star. Taking a bold risk, Echo manages to grab the star and escape the cavern, clutching it tightly in his hoof.

Thanks for reading!

Chapter 13: Camping Weekend Part 7

The campfire crackled warmly, casting flickering shadows across the faces of the seven ponies gathered around it. Yet, the cozy atmosphere did little to soften the blow of what they had just heard.

"YOU WHAT?!" Cloudy Quartz’s voice thundered, shattering the fragile silence of the night.

The group of explorers, now dusty, exhausted, and visibly worn, shrank slightly under the incredulous gazes of those around them.

It had been a long and grueling day. After escaping the underground labyrinth, solving the Pie family’s cave trial, and finding the way out, we had finally emerged into the outside world through a stone door expertly concealed behind a waterfall. The fresh air was a welcome relief after hours of tension underground.

By the time we located our position, the sun was already setting. We had ended up on the other side of the mountain we had climbed earlier that morning, which made it easier to navigate our way back to camp. By the time we arrived, the sky had transformed into shades of orange and purple.

The camp was exactly as we had left it, but the atmosphere was entirely different. Around the campfire, the rest of the Pie family looked visibly distressed. Cloudy was pacing in circles, murmuring her concerns under her breath.

Everything changed the moment a twig snapped under Igneous’s hoof, announcing our arrival. All heads turned toward us, and in an instant, the others rushed forward as if their lives depended on it.

"Where have you been?! We were so worried!" my mother, Cloudy, cried, wrapping us in a tight embrace. The sweat and grime coating us didn’t seem to matter to her one bit.

The scolding and hugs quickly gave way to a flood of questions, but my father, ever composed, quieted them with a raised hoof.

"We’re fine, everyone. But it’s a long story."

And so, gathered around the campfire, the story began.

"It all started when we decided to climb the mountain," Igneous began, carefully recounting the day’s events. His words were deliberate and precise, yet every detail was absorbed with rapt attention.

When he got to the part about the floating orb, I held up the pink, star-shaped crystal for everyone to see. The firelight reflected off its surface, casting mesmerizing glimmers that captivated the group.

As Igneous continued, I observed my family’s reactions.

Maud’s face was as stoic as ever, as immovable as the rocks she loved. But after years of growing up with her and sharing a fascination with stones, I had learned to read her subtle micro-expressions. Her eyes had the faintest sparkle, the kind that betrayed a mix of fascination and just a hint of envy. If Maud had been with us, there was no doubt she would have been the first to crack the cave’s puzzle.

Marble, on the other hoof, was nearly hidden behind her mane, with only one eye peeking out. It blinked occasionally during the story’s more suspenseful moments.

My mother sat with her mouth slightly agape, caught between awe and disbelief.

When Igneous finished his tale, a brief silence settled over the group as everyone processed what they had just heard.

And then came the explosion.

"YOU WHAT?!"

After the story ended, some ponies settled down to rest, while others remained quietly reflecting on everything they had just heard.

As for me, my mind was too full to unwind. I slipped away to one of the tents, seeking the small comfort of its canvas walls. It wasn’t much, but it offered a fragile sense of separation from the chaos outside. Dropping onto the hard ground, I closed my eyes and let out a sigh that could have rivaled the wind in intensity.

"Just five minutes," I muttered. "Five minutes without interruptions. Is that really too much to ask?"

Apparently, it was.

The sound of approaching hooves broke the fragile silence, followed by a shadow blocking the dim light filtering through the tent’s entrance.

"Echo, can I talk to you for a moment?"

I recognized the voice instantly. Limestone.

Great.

I grimaced, the kind of expression reserved for moments when you know something uncomfortable is about to happen and there’s no way to avoid it. Our relationship at that moment was... delicate, to put it politely. We’d had a "discussion" (if you could even call it that) earlier, and I wasn’t exactly thrilled about a potential round two.

With resignation, I got up and stepped out of the tent. She was standing there, her expression caught somewhere between stern and impatient. Without a word, she turned and began walking toward a quieter spot away from the camp. Clearly, whatever she wanted to say wasn’t meant for prying ears.

"Wonderful," I thought. "At this rate, we’ll probably end up arguing in some dark crevice where nopony will hear my screams."

As I followed her, my mind buzzed with all the possible reasons she might want to talk to me alone. None of them were good. But before my imagination could spiral too far, Limestone’s firm voice cut through my thoughts.

"Echo. About what happened earlier..." Limestone began, her eyes fixed on the ground.

That caught me off guard. Limestone wasn’t the type to avoid eye contact. Her gaze was usually sharp and direct, like it could pierce through you. But this time, there was something different about her posture.

"Yeah, I know," I replied quickly, my tone dripping with exhaustion. "I was an idiot, reckless, irresponsible. You don’t need to remind me; it’s already written down in my mental notes."

"No! Well... yes. But also no... Ugh!" she groaned, dragging a hoof across her forehead in frustration.

I raised an eyebrow at her, my expression mirroring pure confusion.

"What I’m trying to say is that... yes, you were a fool for following a floating magic orb. But I’ve been thinking, and..."

"And?" I prompted, my skepticism audible.

Limestone swallowed hard, as if the words she was about to say were burning her tongue.

"And I think... it wasn’t entirely your fault that we ended up there." She paused, her eyes still glued to the ground, a mix of discomfort and determination etched into her features. "I think I went too far with you earlier."

"Too far?" I echoed, lifting my other eyebrow. "You metaphorically threw daggers at me."

"Maybe..." she admitted with a slight shrug. "Which is why I’m... I’m..." She hesitated, the words seeming to stick in her throat. Finally, with a grimace that looked like she was chewing on nails, she spat out, "Sorry."

"Sorry?"

"Yes, sorry. Happy now? I’m apologizing for what I said."

Wow. This was new. Limestone, my proud and granite-tough sister, was apologizing. This day was definitely worth marking on a calendar.

But, strange as it seemed, I couldn't just accept her apology. Not because I was angry, but because I truly felt that I didn't deserve her apology to me.

"It’s fine, but honestly, I think most of what you said was true," I admitted, letting my voice carry the sincerity I felt. I sank onto my haunches, the tension seeping out of me as I sighed deeply before continuing. "It was my idea to come to the camp. And yeah, I haven’t exactly been in the best mindset since we got here, but... it’s complicated."

I hesitated, searching for the right words.

"Let’s just say nothing’s been going according to plan. Not this, not other things... and, well, it’s been piling up. I guess that made me act weird. Weirder than usual, I mean."

Limestone studied me silently for a moment before, to my surprise, her expression softened.

"Look, I don’t think this was all your fault. Honestly, now that I think about it, coming to the camp wasn’t such a bad idea. And, hey, even though I don’t fully get what you mean... I know what it’s like to have days where everything feels wrong. Don’t tell anyone, but I’ve had those days too."

I offered her a faint smile, comforted by her honesty.

"Thanks, Limestone. And, hey, even though you called me an idiot, I probably needed it."

She snorted, her usual way of brushing off a tender moment.

"And your egghead skills really came through for us. I’ll give you that."

"Was that a compliment? From Limestone Pie? This definitely goes in my imaginary journal."

"Shut up," she said, giving me a light shove. But her face held a gentler expression, less sharp and more... sisterly.

We walked back to the camp together, the silence between us far more comfortable this time. When we arrived, Limestone gave me one last glance before disappearing into her tent. I retreated to mine, letting the exhaustion of the day finally claim me.

The story of the night had ended hours ago, as had my conversation with my eldest sister, but the echoes of it all lingered in my mind. The camp was quiet, the moonlight the only guardian of the sleeping ponies. And yet, I couldn’t find peace.

I replayed everything in my head: the discovery of the Pie family cave, the strange pink crystal, and everything in between. My mind wouldn’t stop racing.

Finally, I gave in and left the tent. A nighttime stroll seemed like the only way to clear my thoughts. Grabbing the crystal, I climbed a small grassy rise free of trees, offering an unobstructed view of the sky.

The stars shimmered like tiny diamonds, and the full moon loomed large, its familiar silhouette of the Mare in the Moon etched on its surface.

I sat down, letting out a long sigh as I gazed at the heavens, searching for answers that never seemed to come. My eyes drifted briefly to my flank. Blank. Still.

Damn it. Not even when my life was on the line. Not even when I had to wring every ounce of cleverness from my brain to get us out of that cursed cave. Nothing. Not a Cutie Mark.

This trip had a purpose: to discover my destiny. And yet, here I am, further from it than ever.

Frustrated, I kicked a small rock with my hoof, watching it roll downhill until it disappeared into the darkness.

I know what Limestone meant, but I can’t help feeling the same way despite her words.

Not only did I fail my personal mission, but it’s also because of me that this entire mess happened. My interference caused that event in the cave—a place that had likely remained untouched for centuries. By Celestia, I put Pinkie Pie, a bearer of an Element of Harmony, at risk. If something had happened to her... what would’ve become of Equestria?

I thought it wouldn’t matter what I did here. I figured that as long as Pinkie was in her Rockville phase, I could live without affecting anything significant—a simple bystander in the life of someone important. But I was a fool. I underestimated the impact of my own actions. And now, here I am, wondering if I’ve done more harm than good.

The "Pie Family Cave." I don’t even recall it being a background mention on TV while I was busy with my own stuff. What if it was supposed to be something that happened later and I didn’t know? I mean, it’s possible—I don’t know all the show’s details and barely remember a few episodes.

Did I just ruin the entire timeline? And if I did, I managed to do it in the worst way possible. All this because I wanted a mark.

I glanced at my flank again, as if the emptiness there were a reminder of my incompetence.

What’s the deal with this stupid mark? Is it even possible for me? I still have memories of my past life, so... shouldn’t I have had it from the beginning? Or does this mean I still haven’t found my purpose? If that’s the case... I’m pathetic. Two lives, and I still don’t know who I am. I died without figuring it out. How much more pitiful can it get?

I sighed, closing my eyes in frustration. Now what? I still don’t have a plan. Not even in this new life do I have any clue what I want to do.

Standing up, I dropped my saddlebag beside me and tried to calm my mind with a technique I’d developed. I closed my eyes and pictured my "decision tree." In my head, it was a massive tree filled with branches and leaves, each representing a choice in my life. Every possible decision initially sparkled with promise... but the shadows of fear always crept in too quickly.

“Just decide, Echo,” I muttered under my breath. “Stop overthinking. Pick something and do it. No second-guessing.”

“Painter!” I blurted, almost convincingly, but doubt crashed over me like a storm. “What if my paintings are mediocre? What if no one buys them, and I end up on the streets?”

I smacked my forehead with my hoof.

“Civil engineer! But... what if a building I design collapses? What if someone gets hurt because of me?”

“Businesspony... but what if I lose everything in a bad investment? Debt, ruin, disaster?”

“Scientist! But that would mean a lifetime of endless study, with no time for fun.”

The list went on, and with every option came a torrent of “what-ifs.” Each possibility crumbled under the weight of doubt. My head was spinning as I imagined every outcome. I sat down hard on the grass, squeezing my eyes shut as the tree in my mind filled with withered branches and fallen leaves.

“The good will always be the most difficult, while the bad will always be the easiest.”

The sky stretched vast and indifferent to my dilemmas. Was that the problem? That I always saw failure as the most likely outcome? The stars twinkled, oblivious to my doubts.

The stillness of the night was almost hypnotic. I was so absorbed in the stars, in the vastness of the sky, that I didn’t notice the approaching hoofsteps until I felt a gentle touch on my mane. I gave a small jump, turning my head quickly.

My gaze met my father’s, Igneous Rock, who greeted me with his trademark faint, understated smile.

“You know,” my father began playfully as he sat beside me, “if this grass could talk, it’d probably be yelling at us to stop stomping on its head.”

“I didn’t hear you coming… what are you doing out here so late?” I asked, a bit startled both his arrival and witnessing a joke from him.

Igneous let out a small snort, rolling his eyes with that dry sense of humor he wielded so effortlessly.

“After everything that happened today, I’d say noticing hoofsteps behind you should’ve been a piece of cake,” he remarked, then added in his usual style, “or, rather, like crushing gravel underhoof.” His expression softened slightly, though his serious demeanor never fully faded. “And, by the way, that’s a question I should be asking you. You’re far too young to be up this late.”

I felt heat rise to my cheeks. Had I been so lost in thought that I didn’t notice someone following me?

“I just wanted to take a walk to clear my head... about, well, everything,” I replied, lowering my gaze as I traced small circles in the dirt with my hoof.

Igneous nodded slowly, shifting his gaze toward the sky.

“That makes sense. After what happened today, anyone would need time to think.”

We fell into a comfortable silence. He seemed at ease, watching the stars with that unshakable calm that always amazed me. I, on the other hoof, felt the weight of my thoughts—an unbearable pressure I couldn’t shake. Then, he spoke again:

“But I think what’s troubling you isn’t just what happened today, is it?”

I looked at him, perplexed. Igneous had always been reserved, his face an almost impenetrable mask, but when he spoke, his words always cut straight to the heart of the matter.

"I suppose so," I admitted, letting out a tired sigh.

Suddenly, frustration washed over me. I leapt to my hooves, letting out a sharp snort as I tapped my head lightly with my hooves.

"It's complicated. It's like... one of those silly existential crises," I said, letting my hooves fall to the ground. "I don't know what to do. I don’t know who I’m supposed to be or who I should be."

I glanced at my father, searching his face for any trace of ridicule, but he remained unflinching, simply listening.

"I've been thinking about this for so long!" I continued, my voice rising slightly. "No matter how much I think about it, I always end up in the same place. Every decision I make feels like it defines my entire life, and it paralyzes me. I think about every possibility, every outcome, every consequence... and I just end up stuck."

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to calm myself, but the words kept tumbling out like a broken dam.

"I want to try everything, but I know that's impossible. Even if I had dozens of lives, I could never experience it all. And the worst part is that the good always feels so hard to reach, while the bad... the bad is always there, easy, ready to tear everything down in seconds."

Igneous remained silent, giving me space. I went on, unable to stop.

"When I try to think logically, I lean toward something academic, something stable. But then I ask myself from the heart: is that it? Am I going to spend my life studying, working non-stop, with no time to enjoy anything? But when I think with my heart, I want something artistic, something that gives me peace... and then logic steps in again: how am I supposed to survive like that? What if I fail?"

I took a step back, glancing at my own blank flank.

"And then there are the limitations… Don't get me wrong, I love being an Earth pony, but... it's like there are things I'll never be able to reach. I'll never fly like the pegasi, or move clouds, or control the weather. And don't even get me started on unicorn magic. I'll never be a wizard, or use magic, or anything like that. There are so many options I can't even consider because of what I am."

Igneous watched me carefully, his expression softer than usual.

"You shouldn't worry so much," he finally said in a calm tone. "You're still young. You have plenty of time to figure it out."

I lowered my gaze to the ground, a bitter thought crossing my mind. If only you knew I’m older than you think, and even so, I still haven’t found my purpose…

"But what if I never find it?" I murmured, feeling a lump in my throat. "What if years go by, and I still don’t know what I want to do with my life?"

My father didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he gently placed a hoof on my shoulder.

"If that moment comes," he said calmly, "then you keep moving forward. One step at a time, Echo. Sometimes, you don’t need to know the destination to walk the path."

His response didn’t solve everything, but I felt a bit of the weight on my chest lift. He nodded slightly toward the sky, inviting me to look at the stars again. Then, with the calm he always carried, he continued speaking.

"You know something, Echo? You surprise me every day," he said suddenly.

I frowned, lifting my gaze to meet his. Surprise him? Me?

"You're just a colt, far too young to have these kinds of thoughts and conflicts… but I know you. It’s not unusual for you to think about these things."

I shrank a bit, feeling his gaze pierce right through me. My father wasn’t one to give compliments lightly.

"When you were three and moved into the room next to your sisters, you didn’t waste any time. Believe it or not, we all knew what you were doing with that wall on your side," he said, his tone taking on a rare note of amusement. "You covered it with notes, diagrams, concept sketches... and tied them all together with strings across the wall above your bed. What a complicated idea tree you made at such a young age!"

I blushed slightly, remembering that chaotic mural I had created.

"We thought about telling you to clean it up more than once," he continued, a faint smile on his face, "only to realize that, in reality, it was chaotically organized. Everything else was just more notes… which you then spread to the floor."

"It wasn’t intentional... I just start thinking and end up creating something like that," I said, trying to excuse myself, though I knew it sounded weak.

"And I have no doubt you take it seriously," he affirmed, his gaze returning to the sky. "This isn’t something fleeting for you. I’ve seen it."

He leaned slightly closer to me, his eyes now warmer.

"Of all of us, you’re the one who tries the hardest. You think I don’t notice, but I’ve seen how you take on more than what’s assigned to you. Even when you don’t have duties, you look for something to do."

I opened my mouth to say something, but he raised a hoof to stop me.

"And when you have free time, there you are, in the library, buried in books. You’ve read so much that we had to borrow books from the neighbors for you."

I didn’t know what to say. My father rarely spoke so much, and now he seemed determined to unearth every detail about me.

“You’re very mature for your age, Echo,” he said, pausing for a moment. For the first time, I detected a trace of emotion in his voice. “Sometimes, talking to you feels like talking to another adult. You’ve even made me reflect on things I’d never considered before.”

“Like what?” I asked, genuinely curious.

“Your idea about the camp, for instance. You made me realize that even though we’re a family, we don’t spend time together outside of working on the farm.”

“Well... we all know how that turned out,” I murmured, lowering my gaze.

Igneous shook his head immediately.

“Of course, it wasn’t your fault. Sure, there were problems, and we were in danger, but it all worked out in the end. And that’s thanks to you.”

I stared at him, stunned.

“Thanks to me?”

“When we were trapped in the tunnels, separated, you were the one who found the way to reunite us. You took the lead without even realizing it, as if it came naturally to you,” he said, letting out a sigh tinged with what sounded almost like pride. “And thanks to you, we discovered the Family Cave. A place we always thought was just a legend.”

“A legend, huh?” I said thoughtfully.

“You see, the reason I suggested climbing that particular mountain was because, according to my grandfather, the Pie Family Cave was rumored to be in that area. When I was young, I spent a whole month searching for it with no success. Eventually, I gave up and started thinking it was nothing more than a myth.”

So that’s why that mountain was special.

With a glimmer in his eyes, my father continued, “I used to dream about finding it one day and facing its trials to prove to myself that I was a true Pie. But today, something I dreamed of so many years ago—you made it real.”

I stayed silent, processing his words.

“What I’m trying to say, Echo, is that you’re capable of much more than you think. Whatever decision you make in the future, I know you’ll accomplish it. From a young age, you’ve shown persistence, determination... and yes, a bit of stubbornness. But that stubbornness is what helps you overcome challenges.”

My father gave me a meaningful look before adding:

“And if things don’t work out the way you expect, you’ll always have the rock farm. You’ve shown you have a knack for rocks. You could become an incredible geologist or even earn your Rocktorate in rock sciences, just like your sister Maudileena plans to do.”

I was stunned by his words, unable to fully grasp how much they meant to me.

We sat in silence for a long while—just the two of us, the great moon above, and the stars shimmering around it.

As the atmosphere calmed, a question lingered in my mind.

“By the way, Dad... I’ve read a lot of books, but I’ve never come across anything like this crystal. There’s so much I don’t understand.” I paused, recalling how it dimmed and fell to the ground in gem form after the final trial. “Why did it turn into a star?”

I expected him to keep it. After all, They are professional rock farmers, and surely they’d know what to do with something so strange.

To my surprise, my father looked at me intently before smiling faintly and gesturing toward me with his hoof.

“I have no idea, but I know you’ll figure it out because it’s yours, Echo. You earned it.”

“What? But... wouldn’t it be better if you or Mom kept it?”

Igneous shook his head.

“You’re the one who led us there. It’s your achievement.”

I looked down at the gem still in my hooves. I didn’t recognize it—it wasn’t like anything from the show—but it was the first magical thing I’d ever encountered. For some reason, it was near the Pie cave, and it had appeared inside. Could it be connected to our family? I’d have to investigate it further later, just in case.

I held the gem between my hooves, studying it under the faint starlight. It seemed to pulse gently, almost as if it had a life of its own.

The silence between my father and me lingered, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Rather, it felt like the words had done their job, and now only the moment itself remained to be savored.

Finally, my father broke the silence.

“You’d better keep that in a safe place. We never know what stories might be tied to something like this,” he said, rising slowly and dusting off his legs. “Now, little thinking rock, it’s time for bed. Tomorrow’s another day, and the rocks won’t move themselves.”

I nodded, still captivated by the gem. But before I could get up, I felt his hoof on my head, gently ruffling my mane.

“Echo, no matter what happens, you’ll always have my support and a place here. Don’t forget that.”

I smiled—just a faint curve of my lips, but enough for my father to notice before he turned and headed back to camp.

I stayed a few more minutes under the starry sky, the gem resting in my lap. "A place here," I thought. It was a comforting thought.

Eventually, I got up, brushing the dust from my coat. I tucked the gem into my saddlebag and made my way to the tents, where the campfire had already gone out. I slipped into my tent quietly, careful not to wake anyone.

I paused for a moment, picturing my decision tree—the chaotic web of notes and threads that once filled my mind. But now, for the first time, I could see it cleared, strangely empty.

"Maybe it’s time to start a new mural," I thought. But not tonight.

I left the saddlebag with the gem at the foot of my sleeping bag and lay down, staring at the ceiling of the tent. Despite my father’s reassuring words, my mind kept circling back to the crystal, to what it meant, to what might come next.

But for the first time in a long while, I didn’t feel that familiar pressure in my chest.

For the first time in both my lives, I fell asleep not with thoughts of decisions, but with the image of stars in my mind—and the promise that, no matter what happens, I’m ready to face it

Author's Note

With this chapter, this arc comes to an end.

Echo grew increasingly worried about his interference in the sacred timeline—specifically, how it might alter Pinkie’s destiny and the potential ripple effects it could have on the future. He practically became Pinkie’s shadow, sticking close to her during every activity.

Guilt weighed heavily on him, especially since the idea to venture into the wilderness camp had been his. The thought that a single mistake on his part might lead to a catastrophic event consumed him. Each incident that unfolded due to his involvement only added to that guilt.

The group stumbled upon the legendary Pie family cave, a place Igneous had been searching for without success many years ago. Amid stressful events and a separation within a labyrinth of underground tunnels, Echo managed to find a way to reunite everyone. They eventually overcame the rocky trial that allowed them to escape the collapsing caverns.

Echo also obtained the “Pink/Purple Star”.

Echo has a moment to release all the weight that was on her shoulders, along with a conversation with her father in the moonlight.

Fun Facts:

During the early drafts of this story, I had initially chosen Echo’s gender to be female. However, I ultimately decided to make him male. This change didn’t only apply to Echo; the primary schoolteacher was originally a mare too, but for the sake of balance, I also changed that character into a stallion.

Echo was originally just a cousin of Pinkie Pie. For example, the role Igneous Rock Pie took in this arc, in the beta draft, was originally that of her brother and Echo's father under the name "Rocky Flint Pie." Echo initially had two siblings: a sister named Lapiz, who resembled a mix of Maud and Rarity, and an older brother named Basalt, a comic relief character often treated as a pack mule—primarily by Maud, who constantly made him carry piles of rocks.

In the end, I changed Echo’s origin to make him a direct relative of Pinkie, allowing for more interactions with the main family. However, this story takes place during a time when the Pie family hardly smiles, with no laughter in sight. I’ll definitely miss Basalt, though. * The character meant to confront Echo or call him out was originally Maud. However, with Maud, escaping the cave would’ve only taken five minutes, so I had to “nerf” her by having her go with Marble and Cloudy to hunt for rocks. I swapped her out for Limestone, who could deliver harsh truths to Echo without holding back, making her a better fit for this scenario. * About that pink/purple star, for those who want to know what it is about—[Spoiler alert!]—is one of six key pieces required to restore the chaotic entity known as Cosmos. A character from the comics. An extremely powerful Villain that was fragmented into six parts, giving a lot of potential to use it... of course I'm going to include her.

Behind the Scenes:

For this story, I created three separate documents: one for the initial draft, another for revisions, and a third for translations. I apologize if some of the translations seem off—I tend to revise parts of the story midway through translating, which sometimes leaves things a bit messy.

Notes:

I hope the wait was worth it! I also hope you enjoyed the personal touch in this final chapter of this story arc.

I drew a scene that I hope captured the significance of the moment, paired with a song linked during Echo and Igneous’s conversation.

I can’t promise I’ll always include these kinds of special details, but I’ll do my best to keep them coming.

With this, the next arc will finally mark Echo’s main objective. Sorry for the delay, haha. :twilightblush:

Thanks for reading!

Chapter 14: A new day

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!

Chapter 15: Family outing

Rainy days have a special charm. I love feeling the cold drops falling on my coat, as if the stress of life melts away along with them. Rain revitalizes everything, cleans the air, and leaves behind that peculiar, fresh, earthy aroma—a promise of renewal. And then, as the cherry on top, puddles of water. Perfect.

But what truly fascinates me about the rain isn’t just its natural magic, but what it represents: somewhere up there, a pegasus is working on the weather right now.

As the first drops began to fall, my excitement was impossible to contain. I bolted to the attic of the house with a clear objective in mind.

“Dad! Have you seen the spyglass?” I asked, burying my head into a box filled with old Pie family photographs.

My father, Igneous, climbed the stairs and poked his head up with his usual calm demeanor. “Last I saw it, it was on top of your grandmother Pinkie’s cupboard.”

Turning around, there it was: a dusty box resting on the top shelf of the cupboard. Far too high for me. I frowned, assessing my options.

Furniture and boxes were strategically (or chaotically) scattered around the cupboard. I could attempt an epic leap, climbing one piece at a time until I launched myself high enough to grab my target. Or, perhaps, fashion an improvised trampoline from whatever was at hoof. But before I could put my elaborate plan into motion, my ever-practical father leaned against the cupboard and gestured with his head.

Or… I could just use the obvious option.

I climbed onto him, holding on carefully. With a gentle stretch of his neck, I managed to reach the box and triumphantly bring it down.

“This is for what you always do on rainy days, isn’t it?” he said with a barely perceptible cheerful tone.

“Exactly. It’s like a rock knowing it has to roll downhill when it rains,” I replied with a metaphor I knew he’d appreciate.

With the box now in my hooves, I eagerly opened it and rummaged through its contents. There it was: the spyglass. A little dented, with small rust spots and a crack in the lens, but still functional. I peered through it, testing it out, and smiled in satisfaction.

“Thanks, Dad,” I called out as I dashed downstairs like a bolt of lightning.

“That colt’s got more energy than a landslide,” I heard him say behind me. “Good thing the others didn’t turn out so enthusiastic… I don’t know what we’d do with another one like him.”

Every time gray clouds swirl and drops start to fall, I feel like the opportunity of a lifetime is about to present itself. Ever since I came to this world, I’ve been unshakably curious to see something that doesn’t belong to Rockville: a pegasus.

Rockville is exclusively inhabited by earth ponies. No unicorns, and certainly no pegasi. Not even the recent visitors break that monotony; they’re all earth ponies. The disappointment is palpable, but hope always lingers.

I opened the window of our shared bedroom, letting the fresh, humid rain breeze ruffle my mane. With the spyglass in my hooves, I began scanning the sky, searching for something beyond the endless gray clouds.

I swiveled the spyglass in erratic directions, anxious to find something—anything—worthy of attention. And then, I saw it.

There, to the right, something feathered and flying.

“A PEGASUS!” I shouted with excitement, nearly losing my balance in the process.

Before I could refocus the lens, a quick hoof shoved me aside and grabbed the spyglass. Limestone, ever direct, aimed it skyward.

“Where? Hmm… oh, wait… nope. It’s just a dumb bird,” she said, her voice a mix of disappointment and boredom as she passed the spyglass to Maud for her turn.

I let out a deep sigh, my ears drooping. “Guess today wasn’t the day either…” I murmured to myself as the rain continued to fall.

I’ve always wanted to see pegasi in action—those masters of the weather who, according to stories, move clouds and summon rain with a grace and precision I can only imagine. I’ve never seen them work, but in my mind, it’s like a choreographed performance in the sky, something truly worth admiring.

I remember last year, my curiosity drove me to ask my parents if the rains here in Rockville were the work of pegasi or if they just happened naturally. I’ll never forget the way they looked at me, as if I’d said the most ridiculous thing in the world. To them, the idea of “natural” weather was as absurd as a rock made of cotton.

Even so, they confirmed that yes, pegasi are responsible for the weather. But to this day, I’ve never seen one at work. I guess they prefer to operate from above the clouds, far from the curious eyes of a colt with a dented spyglass.

Over time, my attempts to spot a pegasus turned into a family event. My sisters, sharing my curiosity—and let’s face it, probably bored—decided to join the "pegasus hunt" every time it rained. After all, just like me, they had never seen ponies from other tribes either.

It’s not just during the rain that I look. In theory, pegasi also clear the skies, so I try to search on clear days too, but with no success. Every time I thought I spotted something, it turned out to be just birds. That’s why rain remains my best chance; it’s the clearest signal that pegasi are out there doing their job.

But so far, nothing.

I let myself fall to the floor with a sigh of frustration.

The door suddenly swung open, revealing my mother, Cloudy, her serene expression framed by perfectly positioned glasses.

“I know you’re interested in searching the skies, but,” she said, calmly cleaning her glasses before placing them back on her nose, “there’s plenty of work to do here on the ground.”

Ah, right. Homework.

Marble, who was holding the spyglass at that moment, set it aside with a resigned sigh, and we all made our way to the living room, where our academic doom awaited us.

We sat around the table, already piled high with papers, notes, bits of charcoal, quills, and inkwells. Homework. Lots of homework.

We’d had a few days off recently, and it seemed the school had decided to exact revenge for that brief peace by doubling our workload. Not just for me or my twin sisters—or triplets, depending on how you prefer to see it—but for Limestone and Maud as well.

I suppose during those days off, there must have been some kind of educational update that gave the teachers the brilliant idea to intensify the lessons. Or maybe an important exam was coming up. Either way, we were stuck with it.

Normally, it wouldn’t bother me much. Math, the bane of many, doesn’t faze me. Numbers? Please. That’s nothing compared to the complex equations I faced in my previous life. But Equestrian history essays? Now that’s another matter. No shortcuts or tricks here—you just have to write.

With a resigned sigh, I grabbed a quill and got to work. It wasn’t going to be fun, but at least, while writing about events I hadn’t witnessed and historical figures I’d never meet, I could daydream about the day I’d finally see a real pegasus—or maybe even a unicorn.

The rain came to an end, and with it, so did our homework.

The sky cleared, letting the sun shine through.

With the recent downpour, we couldn’t work properly, so we had to take the day off from moving rocks.

And while I love the rain, this time it worked against me. The refreshing coolness in the air meant no one wanted lemonade. But that didn’t matter; thanks to the teamwork of the past few days, we’d earned plenty of bits—more than enough for my next plan.

A family outing to a restaurant.

Since I was the one treating with my share of the lemonade stand earnings, my family couldn’t say no. Though they were quite surprised when I suggested it.

Of course, this wasn’t just about spending time with my family. If I was already in the food business, why not level up? There was an opportunity waiting, and I intended to seize it.

My destination was the only restaurant in all of Rockville: The Sautéed Stone. Though calling it a restaurant was generous. It was a wooden shack with a thatched roof. Two wooden columns supported a second-floor terrace, though I doubted anyone dared to venture up there, as the creaking boards sounded like they might collapse at any moment. Out front, a worn sign displayed the name, etched in rough letters.

We pushed the door open, causing it to creak softly. Inside, the place was… functional, to put it kindly. The tables were untreated wood, stained from years of use. The chairs didn’t match, and the walls were minimally decorated with polished stones hanging like trophies. Three customers were scattered around, each eating alone in silence.

The receptionist, who also served as the waiter, greeted us from the counter with a mix of curiosity and resignation. His name tag, embroidered on his uniform, read Salt Rock. He was a tall, lanky pony with light gray fur and neatly combed black hair, though a couple of rebellious strands refused to stay in place.

We took a seat at a table by the window.

“Good morning. Welcome to The Sautéed Stone. I’m your waiter, Salt Rock,” he said, placing three menus on the table. “What would you like to order?” he asked with complete neutrality.

I picked up the parchment that served as the menu and examined it carefully. It was written by hoof, with no embellishments or pictures, just plain descriptions and prices listed alongside each item.

The Sautéed Stone Menu:

Rock Salad: 5 bits

Hot Gravel Soup: 7 bits

Fine Sand Sandwich with Cheese: 10 bits

Slate Pizza with Moss Topping: 15 bits

Dessert: Sugared Pebble Pudding: 6 bits

I brought a hoof to my chin, analyzing the options and their costs. I wasn’t here just to eat, of course—I was here to study the market. My next move was going to be big, and I needed to plan it carefully. How can I improve this?
The Sautéed Stone was my competition, and if I wanted to stand out, I needed to offer something they couldn’t.

“Get ready, Rockville,” I thought as I closed the menu, “Echo is about to revolutionize your concept of food.”

Only to reopen it immediately because, with so few menus available, I had to share mine with Marble and Pinkamena.

My parents ordered the Rock Salad and the Gravel Soup. My sisters opted for the Fine Sand Sandwich. I chose the Slate Pizza. And as a house appetizer, we were given a basket of... rocks.

When I took my first bite of the so-called "pizza," I immediately knew I’d made a mistake. They called it pizza, but neither its appearance nor its flavor resembled anything I remembered. Just another disappointment in my life. Although, I had to admit, the moss added a unique touch.

As we ate in silence, I found myself observing the restaurant with a critical eye. There was so much room for improvement: the ambiance, the menu, the food… However, the moment with my family was pleasant enough, and for now, that was all that mattered.

The silence was broken when my mother, Cloudy, spoke with concern.

“We appreciate you treating us to this meal, Echorellian, but... are you sure you can afford all this?”

“Of course. Well, it’ll cost me almost all my earnings, but this opportunity is worth it,” I replied, and it was true. Two birds with one stone—I was gathering intel and spending quality time with my family.

But for now, I needed to visit the bathroom.

As I headed toward the restroom, the creak of the front door announced the arrival of new customers. It was a family of white-coated ponies who stood out with their sophisticated air. The adults wore elegant hats, as if they’d just stepped out of Manehattan or somewhere similarly refined, while the colt, though theoretically sharing their elegance, had a completely disheveled brown mane. He looked like a disaster compared to his immaculate parents.

They must be part of those mysterious new visitors, I guessed.

“Eeww.” The white mare wrinkled her nose in disgust as she lowered her sunglasses to inspect the restaurant carefully. “Is this the only restaurant in this place?”

Her husband, resigned and visibly uncomfortable, swallowed hard before replying in a conciliatory tone. “We don’t have another choice. With the move, there are no provisions. It’ll just be this one time, dear.” He finished his sentence by picking up the menu with an air of dread, as if already anticipating disaster.

As they read the menu, their expressions morphed into pure horror.

“This can’t be real. How do they expect us to eat... rocks?!” exclaimed the white stallion, scandalized.

They glanced at the other patrons, who were calmly munching on stones as if they were freshly baked croissants. This only deepened their incredulity.

“This is impossible!” shrieked the mare, raising a hoof to her forehead as if she were on the verge of fainting.

Her eyes landed on a nearby table where a family of six ponies was enjoying their meal. As she observed the scene, her shock grew: the foals were biting into massive chunks of rock with the ease and enthusiasm of someone devouring cookies.

“Even the foals?!” they both shouted in unison, a mix of revulsion and astonishment on their faces.

Finally, the husband slumped his head onto the table in defeat. Without looking up, he muttered toward his son, “Go clean your hooves, please. At least let someone maintain a modicum of hygiene in this place.”

I walked into the disgusting restaurant bathroom. Three stalls in a row, a mirror mounted above the sinks, and some sad decorations in the corner. Seriously, who decorates a bathroom with rocks? Not even interesting ones—just... rocks.

This town is a joke. Gray, empty, and obsessed with stones as if they were something extraordinary. What else could you expect from a place named Rockville?

Well, at least they have me now.

I stood in front of the mirror, and as always, my reflection greeted me with that irresistible smile. Flashing Blow, as handsome and radiant as ever. I leaned against the sink with a sigh and threw another glance at my glorious reflection.

“Pff, this place is terrible. I haven’t seen a worthy challenge since I arrived,” I said, practicing my nonchalant tone. Then I added, with a touch more drama, “Rockville, prepare yourself to witness the brilliance of the great and powerful Flashing Blow.”

I smiled broadly, as if the bathroom walls could applaud my performance. I dried my hooves with some paper, crumpled it up, and aimed for the trash can. Or at least, I tried to. It hit the edge and landed on the floor.

Great.

As I bent down to pick it up, the door to one of the stalls creaked open. From the shadows emerged a filly, perhaps a couple of years younger than me, with cyan-blue fur and a pink mane.

I gave her my best theatrical smile, the one that usually left others speechless. But instead of being impressed, she just looked at me with a mix of confusion and... disdain? How dare she?

She walked over to the sink, washed her hooves at her own pace, crumpled up her paper, and—with impeccable aim—tossed it straight into the trash can without even looking. Then, rolling her eyes, she flashed me a triumphant smile before strutting out of the bathroom, as if she’d just won some sort of competition.

I stood there, stunned.

I guess not every pony here is gray.

...

Wait.

What was a filly doing in the colts' bathroom?

This town is weird.

When I left the bathroom, I headed back to our table.

I wore a grimace of annoyance—not because of the disappointing "pizza" waiting for me, but because of what had just happened in the bathroom.

Maud, ever observant, arched an eyebrow slightly. “What’s wrong, Echo?” she asked in her usual calm tone.

I paused, debating how to answer, before sighing and replying, “Nothing, just an awkward encounter. Someone named Flashing, apparently deeply in love with his own reflection.”

Maud nodded slightly, as if this were nothing out of the ordinary. “Flashing... Ah, that must be Flashing Blow. He recently joined my class. His introduction was... interesting, to say the least.”

“Hmm, now that you mention it,” I mused, “my class also has some new ponies, and some of them are just as odd. The fact that I’m the one saying that is concerning.”

I turned my attention to the slice of "pizza" resting in front of me. Picking it up with my hoof, I inspected it as if evaluating a failed experiment and finally took a bite.

“I just hope there are no more surprises today. Honestly, I don’t have the energy to deal with anything else after the last few days.”

Meanwhile, elsewhere.

Inside the majestic royal castle of Canterlot, hurried hoofsteps echoed through the grand halls. Sunlight streamed through tall stained-glass windows, casting brilliant colors onto the polished marble floors.

In the throne room, the massive doors swung open, revealing a beige pony in an impeccably tailored red suit. Perched slightly askew on his snout were a pair of glasses, and his cutie mark—a pocket watch—gleamed with every step. Floating above his back, held aloft by a cyan magical aura, was a teetering mountain of papers that seemed ready to collapse at any moment.

The pony advanced with difficulty, struggling to balance his load while hastily picking up any stray documents that fell to the ground. Finally, upon reaching the foot of the golden throne, he bowed slightly in a gesture of respect before speaking.

“Greetings, Your Highness,” he said in a breathless tone, still catching his breath from his hurried dash. “Here are the reports you requested.”

Carefully, he set the pile of papers to the side and, using his magic, unfurled a scroll perched atop the heap. The scroll rolled down to the floor, revealing an extensive list of tasks marked with crossed-out lines and handwritten notes.

“Thanks to the staff members we dispatched,” he continued, scanning the list with his eyes, “all preparations are complete and in order to begin the trials in the next town, as per your instructions.”

He took a deep breath, still slightly winded, and raised his gaze to the throne.

The grand golden throne stood imposingly at the center of the hall, placed atop a series of perfectly aligned steps. It was a symbol of authority and majesty, yet it also conveyed serenity to all who stood in its presence.

From the shadows that surrounded it, a majestic figure stepped forward into the sunlight.

Revealed was a tall and elegant white mare, her flowing mane shimmering gracefully in an invisible current, displaying the colors of the dawn: blue, green, purple, and pink. Upon her head rested a golden crown embedded with a purple gem, a reflection of her power and position. Her enormous, perfectly extended wings combined with the long, majestic horn on her forehead marked her as an alicorn—the supreme ruler of Equestria.

With a warm and maternal tone that radiated both authority and compassion, she spoke.

“Thank you, my little pony. Send word to distribute the messages, and then take the day to rest, Kibitz.”

The beige pony nodded with a slight bow. “Thank you, Princess Celestia.”

As Kibitz exited the throne room, the doors closed with a soft clang. Princess Celestia walked with steady steps to the nearest window, where the sunlight gently caressed her face.

From there, she gazed at the horizon. Below her, the city of Canterlot stretched out, with its white towers and golden rooftops. Beyond, green fields seemed to blend into the blue sky, painting a picture of calm and prosperity.

“If I am not mistaken,” she murmured to herself, “the next town on the list, and the last, is Rockville.”

Author's Note

Echo has spent his new life surrounded by earth ponies, so when it rains, he always looks to the skies, hoping to spot a pegasus. So far, he hasn’t seen one.

For some reason, the school has been assigning mountains of homework.

Because of the rain, Echo decides to plan a family outing to a restaurant, spending quality time with them while brainstorming ways to upgrade his lemonade stand.

A family visiting Rockville experienced cultural shock when confronted with the town’s traditional food: rocks.

Flashing Blow, one of the many ponies who arrived in Rockville out of nowhere, had an awkward encounter with Echo in the restroom.

Celestia made an appearance alongside her assistant, discussing preparations for upcoming trials to be held in Rockville.

Fun Facts:

Kibitz, Celestia’s assistant, is originally from the comics. Since this story takes place earlier in the timeline, Raven Inkwell has not yet joined her service.

This chapter, like the previous one, was also scrapped but later recycled, edited, and lightened for inclusion.

For Flashing and Echo’s first encounter, I drafted three versions. In two of them, Flashing would bump into Marble on the way to the restroom, one resolving through their parents and the other without them. Ultimately, I chose a more casual, humorous, and direct meeting with Echo.

Flashing Blow is an original character. I considered adding a well-known character, but for what I have planned for Flashing, no established character fit the role or would act as he does.

Initially, I hesitated to include these two chapters because the lemonade stand storyline was meant to happen much later. However, they worked well as a bridge for the next arc.

Notes:
The next chapter will begin a new story arc.

Thank you for reading!

Chapter 16: Echoes of doubt: Part 1 - The Question

The students went up to the front of the class one by one, advancing nervously or confidently. In front of the chalkboard, they had to present their answer to a seemingly simple yet overwhelming question for some: “What do you want to be in the future?”

A boy had just finished talking about his dream of becoming a firefighter, inspired by his father, earning timid applause from the group. Now it was Felix’s turn—a boy with brown hair who already felt his stomach tighten at the thought of presenting.

Carrying a mountain of poster boards and disorganized papers, he stumbled awkwardly to the front, slightly bumping into the teacher's desk. He could barely see over the pile, and a few classmates stifled giggles as they watched him struggle to set everything up. Felix, with his usual enthusiasm, ignored the looks and focused on pinning the posters to the board and setting up a small tripod he had brought. It took him several minutes to get organized, creating an uncomfortable silence in the room that was only interrupted by the growing murmurs of his peers.

Finally, he took a deep breath and began:

“Well, there are so many things I could be!” he said with an animated tone, trying to spread his enthusiasm. He pointed to one of the posters that read “Astronaut” in big, colorful letters. “I could travel to space and discover new planets, or maybe…” he turned to another poster, this one showing drawings of a stage, “a famous Broadway actor! I’ve always wanted to be in the spotlight.”

His presentation continued in the same vein, jumping from one idea to another: writer, inventor, pilot, even teacher. With each possibility, his excitement grew, but he never reached a conclusion. He rambled, linking one option to the next, as if he was afraid to choose just one.

The teacher, who had been watching with arms crossed, finally interrupted him with an audible sigh.

“Felix, enough,” he said firmly, his tone a mix of impatience and exhaustion. “This assignment was simple. All you had to do was come up here and say what you want to be. Just one thing, understand? You didn’t need all this spectacle.”

Felix froze, the smile vanishing from his face. He looked at the teacher, then at his carefully prepared posters. His enthusiasm slowly crumbled as the weight of the question bore down on him.

“What’s important here,” the teacher continued, now with a sterner tone, “is that you understand this is a key decision. What you choose defines your future. So, tell me, what do you want to be?”

The classroom fell silent, the earlier giggles replaced by expectant curiosity. Felix opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. He looked at his posters, his drawings, and suddenly they all felt empty. He lowered his gaze to the floor, a blush creeping up his cheeks as he murmured:

“I… I don’t know.”

The laughter exploded among the children. It was impossible to ignore. Felix felt his chest tighten as he tried to stay upright. The teacher, clearly annoyed, clicked his tongue.

“Not knowing isn’t an option, Felix. If you can’t answer such a simple question, you’ll never amount to anything. For now, I’ll give you a barely passing grade. Pick up this mess and let the next student go.”

Felix nodded silently, his eyes fixed on the ground. He hurried to dismantle his presentation, tearing the posters off the board and piling them up haphazardly. His hands trembled as he tried not to meet anyone’s gaze. Once finished, he paused for a moment in front of the board, staring at one of the papers that said “Astronaut.” Without much thought, he tore it off, crumpled it, and stuffed it into his pocket before returning to his seat.

The rest of the class continued as if nothing had happened, but Felix heard none of the subsequent presentations. His thoughts revolved around a single question that seemed to have no answer:

“What do I want to be?”

That day, as he walked home, Felix pulled the crumpled paper from his pocket. He stared at it for a long moment before letting it fall to the ground. Although he didn’t know it then, that indecision, that lack of direction, would haunt him for the rest of his life.

“Good morning, Rockville!” exclaimed an earth pony—a young light-brown mare with a yellow mane—dressed in an impeccable purple suit as she took her place behind a wooden podium.

The main square, situated in front of the austere town hall, was filled with families scattered in small groups. On the stone pavement, the rays of the sun illuminated expectant faces—some curious, others visibly bored—of the ponies who had answered the summons.

A couple of days earlier, each household had received a letter sealed with the emblem of the local school, the mayor’s signature, and, most astonishingly, the royal seal itself. The missive, though brief, mandated the participation of all the town’s youth in a special event without offering many details about its nature.

The speaker's call to attention prompted the young ponies to line up in orderly rows in front of the podium, some with resigned expressions, others—the younger ones—with an excited sparkle in their eyes.

Among them, however, stood out one particularly irritated colt: a local entrepreneur who seized any opportunity to sell lemonade. With a dramatic groan, he flipped his “Open” sign to “Closed” and, after casting a wistful glance at his little stall, joined his sisters in the central formation, visibly annoyed.

“Well, welcome, everyone,” the mare continued with a rehearsed smile. “I’m Harshwhinny, and we’re here to conduct something very special.”

She paused briefly, taking a deep breath before proceeding. “We’ll ask the young ponies to enter the town hall in an orderly and calm manner. Please, take a seat in the order you enter—”

Suddenly, a pony wearing an assistant’s vest climbed onto the podium and leaned in to whisper something in her ear. Harshwhinny frowned, clearly displeased, but nodded before turning back to the crowd.

“It seems we’re experiencing a slight delay,” she said, trying to maintain a cheerful tone. “So I ask for your patience, little ones, while we finish the preparations.”

Attempting to lighten the mood, Harshwhinny added with forced enthusiasm: “Well, you know how things are here in Rockville. Always at the steady rhythm of the rocks—solid and reliable! Heh-heh…”

But the joke fell flat. The families in the audience stared at her with the same impenetrable neutrality one would expect from a town steeped in rocks: serious expressions and blank eyes.

Harshwhinny’s smile faltered, replaced by a nervous chuckle. “Well… heh-heh… that’s all for now! I’ll be right back!” she excused herself awkwardly before retreating backstage, leaving the podium empty.

The audience, for their part, remained in an uncomfortable silence, exchanging quick glances as they waited for whatever was to come.

Just when I had a line of customers at my lemonade stand, couldn’t they wait a few more minutes? What kind of sudden event interrupts everyone like this? Nothing exciting ever happens in Rockville—ever—and now this. And why only the foals? I glanced around, intrigued.

Pinkie, standing just to my right, leaned closer and whispered:

“Hey, brother, do you have any idea what’s going on?”

I took a moment to think before replying. “For the first time, I have no clue. But this is... weird. Very curious.”

I scanned the area again. There were so many young ponies lined up, all in neat rows. Behind us were our families, but something felt off. There were too many ponies. This wasn’t normal. We were double, maybe triple the usual number.

For the past few days, it’s felt like there’s been a flood of new ponies arriving in town. My class has so many new students now that we’ve had to hold lessons outside because the classroom couldn’t fit everyone. And apparently, this wasn’t just happening in my class.

“Have you noticed how many of us there are?” I asked aloud, tilting my head so Pinkie and Maud, standing on either side of me, could get a better look.

Pinkie leaned out of the line, as did Maud, both of them taking in the crowd.

“There are a lot of us,” Maud said in her usual monotone, though there was a hint of curiosity in her voice.

“Exactly. Way more than a month ago. But that’s not all. Look closely,” I added, gesturing subtly toward the crowd with a nod.

Pinkie squinted, trying to grasp what I was pointing out, but eventually sighed and asked, “I don’t get it. Look at what?”

“Didn’t you notice their outfits? Vests, hats… they’re all wearing something. Both the kids and their parents.”

“I guess it’s the current fashion,” Pinkamena replied nonchalantly. “We’re not usually up to date with that here.”

“Yeah, but doesn’t it seem strange?” I insisted, pointing to a pony in front of us. “Look, that one literally has a bucket on his head.” Then I gestured to another. “And that one… is wearing a princess costume? Seriously?”

Both of them turned to look at the ponies I had mentioned. Pinkie jumped in surprise as she realized, while Maud, though her expression remained unchanged, seemed to seriously analyze what she was seeing.

“They’re... rather unorthodox,” Maud commented, as though evaluating an unusual rock. “Out of place, yes.”

Before we could continue dissecting the eccentric outfits of the crowd, my eyes caught sight of a figure standing out among them. Flashing Blow—the same colt from the restaurant bathroom—was moving through the line with palpable energy. This time, he wasn’t talking to his reflection, but he still seemed to find ways to ensure everyone around him knew he was there.

I managed to glimpse his cutie mark: a spark within a flame.

His posture was flawless—chest puffed out, head held high, with a smile that radiated excessive confidence, almost unbearable. He animatedly talked to the other colts around him, gesturing extravagantly and making sure every word he spoke was loud enough to capture the attention of anyone nearby.

In one of his dramatic movements, I caught sight of his green eyes peeking out from beneath his messy mane. But what struck me most wasn’t his exaggerated enthusiasm—it was how his gaze seemed to look down on everyone else, as if from a higher perch.

As I watched his little performance, Harshwhinny returned to the podium with a nervous chuckle.

“Apologies for the delay,” she announced, visibly uncomfortable. “We underestimated the number of foals in the village, but everything is ready now. Please enter in an orderly fashion, take a seat according to the order in which you enter, and wait for further instructions.”

Once inside, we found ourselves in the central hall of the town hall, cleared of all furnishings except for an endless number of small wooden chairs perfectly aligned.

They directed us to our seats, and after a few minutes, we were handed pencils, erasers, and a stack of papers that looked more like a brick than an exam. When that monster was finally placed in front of me, I couldn’t help but blurt out:

“Ahhh, so that’s what this is about!”

So that’s what all the mystery was: standardized tests. Of course. Tests to evaluate our knowledge, calculate the village’s average performance, and compile educational statistics. It explained why we’d been bombarded with assignments and extra classes recently. It all made sense.

At the sound of the bell, we turned the first page, and the test began.

First Section: History.

Oh, please. Easy. If there’s one thing I love about this world, it’s its history. I didn’t just take the time to learn it—I dove into it with enthusiasm. Between the legends and ancient eras, it felt like reading an epic saga. I breezed through the questions almost without blinking.

Second Section: Language and Writing.

This one was trickier at first, not because of the language itself but because of how ponies write here. Using hooves or mouths to handle a pencil had been a nightmare in the early days, but once I overcame that hurdle, this was a piece of cake.

Third Section: Mathematics.

Here’s where I relaxed, thinking, “Come on, how hard can this be?” I turned the page with confidence, expecting to see basic addition, subtraction, and division. At first, it seemed that way. Simple equations, solving for “x”… trivial. Wait...

Algebra. Geometry. Trigonometry. Calculus. Quadratic equations?!

“What in the world is this?” I thought as my right eye twitched. Why were there letters in this section? Wasn’t this supposed to be for foals?

I glanced at the test again. These questions weren’t just advanced—they were straight out of high school, maybe even college-level material. Who on earth expected an average foal to solve this?

With that thought, I looked around. The scene was a silent chaos: foals with tears in their eyes, others biting their pencils in despair, some completely frozen. It was an emotional disaster zone.

Something was off. I flipped through the test from the beginning. Every section was packed with questions far more complex than what was normal for our age. Even the history section included topics like the Pre-Equestrian Era, the Age of Legends, and political relations with the griffons—subjects I only knew because I’d buried myself in books out of sheer curiosity.

“This is ridiculous,” I thought. I hadn’t even realized how absurd it was because I’d been solving it on autopilot, thanks to the absurd dedication I’d poured into studying in this second life. But now that I looked at it objectively, it was completely insane.

And something else caught my attention: we were all mixed together. Foals of different ages and levels, all in the same room, taking the same test. What kind of educational system was this?

I came to an obvious conclusion: the educational structure of this world was a mess. Whoever was in charge clearly had no idea what they were doing.

I sighed, shaking my head. Well, at least that mystery was solved. I went back to where I’d left off—in the math section—and continued answering.

“This is ridiculous,” I muttered to myself, but I kept writing. At least it was mildly entertaining.

I spent a good hour solving all the math problems. At least they had the decency to make the advanced problems slightly easier. A small mercy in this sea of numbers.

With a sigh, I turned the page, hoping the next section wouldn’t force me to do more calculations. Equations are a bit tricky when you don’t have fingers to count on.

But then, my eyes landed on the title of the next section, and my mind froze.

"Magic."

Magic? Why on earth would magic be on a test designed for foals in a rock-farming village?

This has to be a standardized test for all of Equestria; otherwise, honestly, I don’t get it. Everything I know about magic boils down to... well, it’s magical. That’s it. How are we supposed to answer something like this when here in Rockville, magic is about as common as rainbows in a mine?

I took a deep breath. Calm down, Echo. Maybe it’s not that complicated. Maybe they’re general questions.

First question: “What can unicorns and pegasi do?”

Oh, sure, that’s easy. I wrote down the answer without hesitation. Unicorns: cast spells. Pegasi: fly and control the weather. Thanks for handing me that one, exam.

Second question: “In rune magic, what is the correct symbol to channel a wind spell?”

...Crap.

The questions quickly shifted from ridiculously obvious to terrifyingly specific. A few were simple logical guesses, but others seemed to be pulled straight out of an advanced Starswirl the Bearded manual.

At least these were multiple choice. If they’d asked for open-ended answers, I’d be officially doomed.

This situation dredged up an unpleasant memory from my past life: the dreaded university entrance exam. I’d prepared for weeks, covering every topic in the guide, only to discover an entire section on a foreign language that wasn’t even mentioned in the syllabus. How was I supposed to answer something like that? It was a disaster.

But this time, I wasn’t going to let something like this defeat me. Nope, not happening... This is not how it ends.

With a dramatic sigh, I dropped my head onto the desk, covering it with my hooves as if all was lost. For a brief moment, I let myself fake defeat, but then a sly grin began forming on my lips. Slowly, I sat up, and in my mind, a maniacal laugh echoed—one that, if released, would have alarmed everyone around me.

Please.

Did they think this would stop me? Of course not.

These are multiple-choice questions, which means I have, at minimum, a 25% chance of getting it right even if I guess randomly. But, of course, I don’t leave things to chance. I have my tricks.

First, elimination. There’s always one option that seems like it was written by a lunatic or someone who didn’t understand the concept. Out. Now I have a 33% chance.

Second, look for clues in the exam. Often, the answers are hinted at in later questions. You just have to read carefully, and voilà, one less guess to make.

Third, longer answers. If one of the options is significantly more elaborate than the others, it’s probably the correct one. Why? Because teachers often think that making the answer longer makes it less suspicious.

And finally, my ace in the hole: the “C” option. Statistically, teachers tend to hide the correct answers in the middle. It’s not foolproof, but it works often enough to be my favorite in desperate situations.

Armed with these strategies, my confidence soared. Nothing like a good set of tricks to turn a disadvantageous situation into a manageable one.

I set my pencil to the paper, looked at the questions, and began applying each trick one by one.

Ha! Now I just have to depend on luck.

It had been two hours since the test started, and I had finished everything. Even the most "difficult" parts—magic and math. Magic, well, pure luck. But math? That’s a different story. I guess living two lives and studying like a maniac has its advantages.

I vividly recall the days I locked myself in the library, devouring every book Rockville had to offer. When I discovered that the math in this world was identical to that of my past life, I felt a mix of relief and disappointment. I had hoped for something... different. A ridiculous twist, like numbers behaving in a non-Euclidean way, or universal laws being as strange as the fact that someone like Celestia moves the sun and moon.

I still don’t know how to fit that into a coherent scientific framework.

I shook my head, pushing away that uncomfortable spiral of thoughts. I didn’t need to get lost in that right now.

“Well, only one page left,” I murmured to myself as I flipped to the final sheet.

And there it was.

A single, simple question:

“What do you want to be?”

...

...

Crap.

I froze, the pencil suspended above the page.

...

Crap, crap, crap.

Why, of all possible questions, did it have to be this one? Couldn’t they have asked something less... existential? Something simple like “Draw a pony” or “Describe your favorite food.” But no. They wanted to know something I haven’t been able to answer—not in one life, and certainly not in two.

My eyes locked onto those words as if they were a trap.

What do you want to be in the future?

In my first life, I tried. I made a decision tree, sought inspiration, followed advice. But every path I explored always led to the same place: more questions. And now, here I was again, facing the same dilemma, but with the advantage (or curse) of having another chance to figure it out.

I rested my chin on a hoof, staring at the page.

"I could write anything," I thought. "Builder. Mathematician. Historian. Even something absurd like 'Parallel Worlds Explorer.' Who would stop me?" But none of those answers felt genuine.

What do I want to be in the future? Well, what does it even mean to "be" something? Is it a profession? A purpose? An ideal?

In my past life, I tried to be many things: a good student, a friend, a good brother. Yet I never managed to meet the expectations others had for me—not even my own. What makes me think it could be different now?

My mind started wandering through options.

“Maybe I could be a teacher.”

Sure, teaching doesn’t sound too bad. But what would I teach? Math? Most foals seem to hate it. Besides, I’m not sure I’d have the patience to deal with that.

“Astronomer.”

It’d be amazing to study the stars, that eternal mantle that fascinates me. But what happens when I come face-to-face with the magic of this world that defies all logic? How would I reconcile what I know with what I see?

“Hero.”

I had to stifle a laugh. I’m not hero material, that’s for sure. Besides, this world already has enough legends; it doesn’t need another one.

“Astronaut.”

...

I sighed and let the pencil drop onto the desk.

Nothing I considered led anywhere. Every option seemed like a dead end.

In the end, my mind always came back to the same place: I don’t know. I don’t know what I want to be. I don’t know what I want to do. What if I never know?

My thoughts began swirling into a growing chaos. Suddenly, everything felt bigger, heavier. The future—that tiny word—now seemed like an impossible mountain to climb.

I forced myself to take a deep breath and shook my head. “If you feel crazy, just breathe a little,” I told myself.

If you feel crazy, just breathe a little...

And with that last thought, I knew what to write.

I looked back at the page.

I picked up the pencil and, with a slow stroke, I began to write.

With my exam complete, I took it and walked toward the large desk at the front of the rows of seats.

Moving slowly, I glanced at the others. I was the first to finish. I saw their desperation as they struggled with the impossible questions.

Even Flashing caught my eye. He looked anxious, glancing around nervously before pulling a small sheet of paper out of his mane. Cheating. But honestly, I doubted it would help him, and at this point, I didn’t care.

I kept walking until I reached the front, where Harshwhinny greeted me with surprise that she quickly replaced with a forced, nervous smile.

I looked at my exam one last time. Maybe it wasn’t the answer they wanted, but it was the only one I had.

And without another word, I handed it over.

Author's Note

The first glimpse of Echo's past life as Felix is revealed, showing a pivotal moment that would define his future. The question, “What do you want to be?” has haunted him ever since, tormenting him with doubts and reflections about his purpose.

In the present, Rockville is experiencing an unusual influx of new ponies. Echo, unsettled, observes how many of them behave strangely, wearing odd clothing and even buckets on their heads. This sudden change keeps him on edge.

Echo participates in a written test that he initially answers without much thought. However, he soon realizes the exam is extraordinarily difficult, far beyond what would typically be expected for foals his age. Upon reaching the final question, he once again faces the same query that defined his past life: “What do you want to be?”

Fun Facts:

Harshwhinny is introduced in her younger years, showing a surprisingly optimistic and almost playful attitude. Despite her good intentions, her humorous remarks are not well-received in a stern and practical place like Rockville.

Although Echo's response to the final question remains unrevealed, it will be explored through his backstory in upcoming chapters. Being revealed until the end of the story arc.

Thanks for reading!

Chapter 17: Echoes of doubt: Part 2 - Race of Surprises

It was a warm afternoon, and the entire family was gathered in the living room to celebrate a special occasion. The table was laden with dishes of food, drinks, and a cake elegantly decorated—though oddly formal for a family celebration. It was Felix's birthday, but it seemed no one except him remembered.

The conversation began lively, as always. His mother, with her usual enthusiasm, took the lead, showering praise on her eldest son, Robin, a brilliant academic whose achievements filled a shelf like trophies.

"He's made such incredible progress in such a short time!" she said, slicing a piece of cake for Robin. "His professor even said he has the potential to write his own book someday."

Felix, sitting at the far end of the table, tried to chime in.

“Well, I’ve also been working on a project…”

But his voice was easily drowned out by laughter and more admiring remarks about his brother. Before he could try again, his father shifted the conversation, not toward Felix, but toward his older sister, Amanda.

“And what about your sister?” he said proudly. “Her latest art exhibit was a success. She received so much praise! I think she’s even been invited to another gallery next month.”

Felix glanced at his sister, who smiled with satisfaction as the others showered her with admiration. A small spark of frustration ignited in his chest, but he tried to stifle it.

“Well, I…” he began again, this time louder, attempting to redirect the focus to himself.

But once again, his attempt was ignored as if his words were little more than background noise.

Anthony, his other older brother, noticed Felix’s struggle to be heard and decided to intervene.

“Hey, what about Felix?” he said casually, but with clear intent to bring attention to him. “It’s his birthday today, isn’t it? Maybe we should talk about what he likes or what he’s been up to.”

A brief silence fell over the table—an awkward moment where glances were exchanged. For a moment, Felix thought maybe, just maybe, they’d finally listen.

But what came next wasn’t what he expected.

“Oh, yes, Felix…” his mother said with a sigh, her head tilting slightly and her smile tight. “But what has he really done? He still hasn’t decided on anything. Not like Anthony, who’s been so consistent in sports. It’s impressive how he always gives his best.”

His father nodded, picking up the thread.

“Exactly. Felix, you should learn from him. You can’t go through life without making important decisions. Look at your siblings: they’re all on their way to something great.”

Felix felt a lump form in his throat. He lowered his gaze, his appetite vanishing with every word. They had ignored his attempts to speak only to remind him, once again, of everything he wasn’t.

The murmur of conversation resumed, now centered on Anthony’s athletic achievements, while Felix sat in silence, toying with his fork. Eventually, he decided to take a piece of cake. At least that should be his moment, a small solace in an afternoon where everything seemed to belong to someone else.

He cut a slice and took a bite, but as he chewed, he was met with an odd and unpleasant taste. He frowned, dropping his fork as he spat the cake into a napkin.

“What is this?” he asked quietly but loud enough for the others to hear.

“It’s a rhubarb and exotic spice cake,” his mother replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “We chose a special flavor this year. It’s more refined.”

Felix stared at them incredulously. They hadn’t even asked what flavor he wanted for his own cake. Even that had been decided without consulting him.

The conversations continued as if nothing had happened, shifting from one sibling’s achievements to another’s, like a parade in which Felix had no place. He set his fork down and stared at his piece of cake, now ruined by the bitter taste of indifference.

In this family, no matter how many attempts he made, he always remained in the background, like an unfinished draft on a table filled with masterpieces.

In Rockville’s central plaza, murmurs floated in the air like a swarm of buzzing insects. The place was packed with foals, all with the same confused expression, wondering what on earth awaited us this time.

As for me, I was in a fairly good mood. Yesterday, I survived the ridiculously complicated test they put us through. I admit some questions made me sweat, but thanks to my borderline obsession with gathering any available information, I think I managed a decent performance. Sure, the last question nearly fried my brain’s gears, but I think my answer was worth it.

However, it's not the exam that has me smiling today. No, my good mood comes from something far more exciting: I’ve finally saved enough to commission a custom amulet. At last, that star I found in the Pie family cave will have a fitting home. Yesterday, after the exam, I paid a reliable craftspony in Rockville to craft a tailored frame for it. He told me it would be ready tomorrow. The guy works fast, and I love that.

So there I was, feeling pleased despite being summoned again. Probably for another test that won’t even count toward grades but will still find a way to complicate our lives.

Lost in my thoughts, I realized I’d lost sight of my sisters. With a sigh, I started making my way through the crowd.

“Excuse me, coming through. Blue pony with existential crises passing by,” I said, maneuvering around others, searching here and there.

And then, I walked straight into someone. The collision was so hard I ended up on the ground, brushing off the dust as I muttered:

“Ugh, sorry, my bad. I was looking for my sisters.”

When I looked up, I was greeted with the worst-case scenario: Flashing Blow.

Seriously? Out of all the ponies here, it had to be him?

The restaurant incident had been awkward enough. Seeing him blatantly cheat on the exam only solidified the idea I had about this guy.

I stayed on the ground for a moment, blinking as Flashing Blow returned my gaze with a smile that could either be described as dazzling or utterly infuriating, depending on your perspective.

“Oh, no worries,” Flashing said, bowing his head theatrically. “It’s easy to get lost in such a crowd. But lucky for you, you bumped into the one pony here who wouldn’t mind.”

I rolled my eyes as I stood up, shaking off the dust. “What a relief. If it had been any other pony, I’d probably be preparing for my execution.”

Flashing let out an exaggerated laugh, as if my comment were the funniest thing he’d ever heard. “Exactly! You get it. But seriously, it’s no big deal. I guess you should count yourself lucky to have run into Flashing Blow. Not everyone gets that chance, you know?”

I nodded slowly, trying to process his level of self-satisfaction. “Right… uh, thanks, I guess. Well, I better get back to looking for my sisters.”

I turned on my hooves, ready to put an end to this interaction as quickly as possible. But just as I took a step, I felt a tap on my shoulder. Turning back, slightly confused, I saw Flashing with a sharper, almost predatory smile.

“But you’d better make sure it doesn’t happen again,” he said in a lower voice, almost a growl disguised as politeness. “I’m not here to make friends, got it? So don’t get in my way.”

I stared at him for a moment, my mind debating whether to respond or just walk away. I chose the latter, sighing as I began to move past him.

“Thought so,” Flashing muttered loud enough for me to hear. But before I could get far, he raised his voice once more.

“This race isn’t for little pink-haired fillies, in case you didn’t know!”

I stopped dead in my tracks.

Pink-haired filly?

You son of a… Did he just call me a filly?

I turned slowly toward him, taking deliberate steps in his direction. Blood boiling, teeth clenched, I was about to wipe that smug grin off his face when—

“Echo! We’re over here!”

Pinkamena’s voice called out from across the field.

I froze for a moment, took a deep breath, and let out a long sigh. Flashing Blow looked at me with an arrogant smirk, clearly savoring the moment.

Lucky for you, Flashing. My sisters just saved your hide.

“See you later, champ,” I said with a sarcastic smile before turning and heading toward my sisters.

But don’t forget, Flashing. Next time, I’ll crush you like the rock you are.

Once reunited with my sisters, the questions came quickly. On one hand, there was curiosity about what they’d make us do today, and on the other, the understandably dramatic reactions to yesterday’s ridiculously complicated exam.

The tension had been so high that even Maud, with her unshakable demeanor, admitted to answering most of the questions at random. Pinkamena didn’t hold back her frustration either. I simply nodded as I listened to them vent. Honestly, I couldn’t blame them.

Our conversation about academic torture was abruptly interrupted.

“Good morning, Rockville!” Harshwhinny’s voice rang out from the podium, her tone so rehearsed it could have come straight from a tonic commercial. “Today, you have the honor of participating in a very special surprise. Please follow me to the designated area.”

With those words, we were led to an open field filled with dirt and small stones. In front of us stood an enormous obstacle course, towering like a monument to excess: tunnels to crawl through, walls to climb, narrow beams to test our balance, and even nets that looked ready to catch us if we fell.

Seriously? What's with these ponies and their obsession with over-the-top tests?

Harshwhinny resumed her role as host with clear enthusiasm, visibly enjoying the spotlight. “That’s right! You’ll be participating in a physical test, followed by an exhilarating obstacle race!” Her voice rose in pitch, dripping with excitement—at least for her.

She added with a practiced smile, “Because nothing brings ponies together like a little sweat and competitive spirit! Don’t you agree?”

The silence was deafening. Not a single pony moved, blinked, or even twitched. Harshwhinny let out a nervous laugh and adjusted the collar of her blazer. “Well… ahem, let’s proceed then!”

They lined us up and had us do basic stretches, followed by more intense exercises like push-ups while assistants jotted down our performance on scrolls. Nothing too challenging, at least for the foals of Rockville. The real entertainment came from the newcomers.

The newcomers, with their ridiculous vests, hats, and capes, struggled to keep up. Not only were they falling behind, but they clung to their outfits like they were a crucial part of their identity. Wouldn’t it be easier to ditch the extra weight?

Once the physical tests were over—and even Maud, Limestone, and I found some parts challenging—we were arranged into two lines for the next phase: the obstacle race.

At the end of the course, an assistant stood ready with a stopwatch and clipboard to record our times.

When my next competitor stepped forward, a filly wearing a full-on princess dress, I couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. Who in their right mind runs in that?

Predictably, Flashing Blow was at the front of the line. His confidence was so overwhelming it practically needed a separate wagon to carry it. He looked ready to break some kind of personal—or even world—record if his pre-race boasting was to be believed.

And then something clicked in my mind. The race… Flashing had mentioned something about a race earlier, hadn’t he? Specifically in that comment about "pink-haired little fillies." But how did he know there’d be a race? A physical test was predictable, but a specific obstacle course? Could just be a coincidence.

I shook my head, brushing the thought aside. No point dwelling on it now… though I couldn’t deny it was suspicious.

As the races began, most ponies posted mediocre times, which was understandable—the course seemed designed for older ponies, not foals.

Then it was Flashing’s turn. I’ll admit, he looked like he’d practiced this course a hundred times. He didn’t just beat his opponent; he left them literally eating dirt. He finished with an impressive time of six minutes and forty seconds. Crossing the finish line, he wasted no time in showing off like a peacock.

“Hate to break it to you,” Flashing declared, puffing out his chest in an almost cartoonish fashion, “but the record I just set? You’re not breaking it, not even in your dreams. But hey, it’s not about winning—it’s about participating, right?”

I rolled my eyes. A little bragging is fine, but this? Ridiculous.

Finally, my turn came.

The sound of the bell signaled the start of the race, and my opponent immediately tripped over her dress. Well, that made things easier.

What followed was almost routine for me. I’ve been training since the moment I first breathed in this world, and that’s not an exaggeration. As a rock farmer, my life revolves around moving heavy stones, pushing carts, and wielding a pickaxe like it’s part of my body. Compared to that, this race was a walk in the park.

I slid through the tunnels without a care for the dust. I climbed the walls as if they were simple piles of gravel. The balance beam was honestly the most challenging part, but once I cleared it, the rest of the obstacles were... well, a piece of cake.

When I crossed the finish line, the assistant’s eyes widened as he logged my time: six minutes and fourteen seconds.

I strutted back with style, almost as if marching to the beat of an imaginary song. As I passed Flashing, I couldn’t resist the temptation.

“You’re right; it’s all about participation,” I said, pairing the words with a playful finger-gun motion with my hooves and a small wink. Sure, it might’ve seemed ridiculous to anyone else, but to me, it was perfect. Satisfying? Absolutely.

Flashing stared at me, stunned, before clenching his teeth and letting out a low growl.

“Whatever,” he muttered under his breath. “Beginner’s luck. Won’t happen again.”

A few minutes later, it was Maud’s turn. She finished in six minutes and thirty seconds, though only because she took some extra time to analyze a rock along the way.

In the end, Maud, in her signature monotone, simply said, “It’s about participating that counts.”

I couldn’t help but smile. Victory tastes better when seasoned with a little irony.

After finishing the last test, we were given a few minutes to rest.

Is it just me, or am I completely dominating this whole event? Not that I consider myself a prodigy or anything, but honestly, all the training since the day I was born seems to be paying off—both physically and mentally.

Too bad all of this is just to collect standard village statistics. It doesn’t count toward any grades or even win us a prize. It’s like they set up a show just to measure us like rocks on a scale.

My self-satisfied thoughts were interrupted by Harshwhinny’s voice.

“Great job, everyone!” she exclaimed with her signature enthusiasm, though this time it was a bit more restrained. “Now we’ll move on to one of the main events. Please gather into three groups to continue.” Her forced smile didn’t exactly inspire confidence.

Without much thought, my sisters and I immediately grouped up. It was the natural thing to do, of course. But before we could decide which group to join, something unexpected happened.

A cloud of dust suddenly rose around us. The sound of hooves galloping echoed everywhere, accompanied by a noise that could only be described as... excited shouting?

The dust made us cough, and I closed my eyes instinctively. When it finally cleared, what we saw left us speechless. Even Maud—the ever-stoic Maud—opened her eyes wider than usual.

In front of us, two groups had formed out of nowhere, as if someone had given a magical command. On one side stood the ponies in ridiculous hats, and on the other, those wearing vests, suits, and capes. But it wasn’t just their appearance that left us stunned.

We Rockville ponies stood frozen in place, paralyzed by confusion. Even Flashing Blow, normally brimming with confidence, had his jaw hanging open.

What in the world was happening here? How did they form so suddenly, without a second thought?

And then, the surprise deepened.

The foals from both groups began removing their accessories—vests, capes, hats, whatever they had. Everything fell to the ground as if it was no longer needed.

What they revealed beneath stopped my brain entirely.

Horns. Wings.

What the heck?!

The two groups consisted of unicorns and pegasi. Real unicorns and pegasi!

They gave smug, self-satisfied smiles as they revealed their true identities.

WHAT IN THE WORLD?!

While I tried to process what I was seeing, I muttered in disbelief:
“Even the filly in the princess dress is a pegasus? And the one with the bucket... a unicorn?”

It was as if my entire perception of the world was being shaken. They had been hiding their horns and wings under those disguises all along. But why? Why would anyone do something like this? And why on earth would a bunch of unicorns and pegasi show up in Rockville, a town as monotonous as a rock?

I looked around. My sisters and the rest of the earth ponies shared the same expressions of confusion and shock. An awkward silence spread until one of the unicorns—the one who seemed to be leading their group—broke it.

“It’s time for you all to eat dirt,” he said in a threatening tone.

Their horns began to glow with magical light, each one creating a dazzling spectacle.

Not to be outdone, the pegasi spread their wings with dramatic flair, puffing out their chests as if preparing for battle.

I looked again at the earth ponies of Rockville. We were still scattered and clearly disorganized. The situation was worse than it seemed.

“Everyone else! Get over here quickly, gather up!” I shouted with as much authority as I could muster.

Without hesitation, the others obeyed, clustering around my sisters and me. Now we were a compact group, though we still lacked wings or magic.

We stepped back as they advanced. Every step they took seemed loaded with silent menace.

In my mind, one thought persisted. This was the first time I had ever seen unicorns and pegasi in person. It should have been magical, a moment worthy of fantasy tales. Something majestic. But this... this was far from it.

I looked at the faces of my fellow villagers. They hadn’t expected their first encounter with other races to be like this either.

One thing was clear in my mind as I watched the glowing horns and the pegasi’s defiant gazes.

This is going to be a headache, isn’t it?

Night had fallen, and the house was completely silent. The soft moonlight barely filtered through the curtains, casting gentle shadows on the walls of Felix’s room. He sat on his bed, motionless, his eyes fixed on a point on the wall. The darkness felt heavier than usual, as if reflecting the weight in his chest.

The door creaked open slowly, letting in a sliver of light from the hallway. Felix blinked and looked up. It was Anthony.

In one hand, he carried a small apple cupcake, topped with a softly flickering candle. It was Felix's favorite flavor, a detail he hadn’t expected anyone to remember that night. Anthony walked in with his usual laid-back stride and flopped onto the bed beside Felix.

“Happy birthday, kid,” he said with a crooked smile, placing the cupcake on the nightstand. Then, he lay back with his arms folded behind his head, as if it were the most comfortable place in the world.

Felix, surprised, looked at the cupcake, and a small smile crept across his face.

“Is it really apple?” he asked, incredulous.

“What, you thought I’d bring you one of those weird flavors Mom always picks? Come on, give me some credit.”

Anthony glanced around the room, but his attention was quickly drawn to something on the opposite wall. His brow furrowed in a mix of curiosity and amusement. Taped and pinned to the wall was a mural filled with diagrams, handwritten notes, clippings, and colored threads connecting various ideas. Though it didn’t cover the entire wall, it was clear Felix had been working on it for some time.

“What’s this?” Anthony asked, raising an eyebrow. “Are you planning to take over the world or something? Because if you are, I gotta say: this mural needs more red strings. Those always make conspiracies look more convincing.”

Felix let out a nervous laugh, shrugging.

“It’s my ‘Decision Tree,’” he replied, a hint of pride in his voice. “I started it recently. It’s supposed to help me figure out what to do with my life.”

Anthony turned his head toward him, now more intrigued.

“Decision Tree?” he repeated, his face full of disbelief. “Come on, Felix, you don’t need to make it so complicated. Just pick something and go with it, like I did. Why all the drama?”

Felix shook his head, feeling a bit more confident as he explained his project.

“It’s not that simple!” he exclaimed, gesturing toward the mural. “Look, there are so many possibilities… so many things I could do. If I don’t think it through, I could end up picking something that doesn’t make me happy or doesn’t work out in the long run. This helps me organize everything, see my options clearly.”

Anthony sat up slightly, leaning his elbows on his knees, and gave the mural a critical but amused look.

“It’s like I always say: ‘If you feel crazy, just breathe a little’” Anthony quipped.

Then he continued, “So… this is like a roadmap for your life?” he asked, unable to hold back a teasing smile. “Man, that’s intense, bro. I didn’t know you planned everything like it’s some giant role-playing game. Do you also have a twenty-sided die to decide your destiny?”

Felix laughed at the joke but then pointed to a small blank space on the mural.

“I’m still working on it. But yeah, kind of. I want every decision to make sense, you know?”

Anthony shook his head, grinning.

“You’re a lost cause, you know that?” he said, grabbing a pillow from the bed and throwing it directly at Felix’s face. “Though now that I think about it, ‘Decision Tree’ sounds better than ‘Felix, the Eternal Indecisive.’”

Felix took the hit without warning, but instead of getting upset, he grabbed the pillow and launched it back with force.

“You started it!”

The room filled with laughter and the sound of pillows thudding against the bed and walls. For a moment, the weight of the day vanished, replaced by a genuine connection between brothers.

Finally, they both collapsed onto the bed, breathing heavily after their little battle. The candle on the cupcake was still flickering, casting a warm, unsteady glow across the room.

“Thanks, Anthony,” Felix murmured, staring at the ceiling. “For everything.”

Anthony didn’t respond immediately, but he smiled and gave Felix a light punch on the arm.

“No need to thank me, bro. Now blow out that candle before it melts.”

And for the first time all day, Felix felt truly seen.

Author's Note

Anthony, Felix’s older brother, is introduced as a key character. Felix starts his birthday on a sour note. However, Anthony does his best to make Felix’s day better, proving to be a constant source of support.

This birthday marks a significant milestone: it’s the moment when Felix creates his Decision Tree for the first time. Inspired by the clear paths his siblings have taken—academic, artistic, and athletic—Felix begins mapping his options to find his own direction.

In the present, Echo is thrilled because his star-shaped gem will be made into a custom necklace. However, his day takes an unexpected turn when he has an awkward encounter with Flashing, who turns out to be far less friendly than he initially seemed.

During the race trial, Echo uses his wit to outsmart Flashing with a touch of sarcastic humor. Shortly after, the mystery of the new ponies in Rockville is revealed: they are unicorns and pegasi! This is Echo’s first encounter with other tribes, a thrilling moment that doesn’t turn out quite as he had imagined.

Fun facts:

Flashing Blow mistakenly assumes Echo is a filly due to his appearance and demeanor.

Harshwhinny will have a rather interesting character development so to speak hehe

Thanks for reading!

Chapter 19: Echoes of doubt: Part 4 - The Next Stage

The stadium buzzed with energy. The stands were packed, and the deafening roar of the crowd cheered on the players on the field. Among the spectators, Felix’s family sat in the front row, waving flags and shouting enthusiastically. But all their support was directed solely at Anthony, the star player of the local football team.

At halftime, Anthony, sweaty but full of energy, jogged over to where his family was waiting. His mother handed him a water bottle, while his father patted him on the back proudly.

"Great job, son! That pass was incredible!" his father said, as Anthony shrugged with a confident smile.

"Thanks, but just wait," Anthony said, a mischievous glint in his eye. "The best is yet to come."

"What do you mean?" his mother asked, frowning in curiosity.

Anthony just winked before heading back to the field.

The halftime show began shortly after. The cheerleaders took the stage with precise, coordinated movements, while the team’s mascot—a comically exaggerated horse—bounded in with dramatic leaps. The crowd erupted in laughter and applause.

The mascot stole the show. It performed acrobatics, improvised dances, and even joined the cheerleaders in hilariously clumsy but endearing routines. At one point, it even pretended to trip and tumble, eliciting roaring laughter from the audience. Whoever was in that costume was clearly giving it their all to entertain.

When the game ended, Anthony’s team emerged victorious. The family greeted him with hugs and congratulations. Anthony held a trophy in one hand, raising it like it was an Olympic gold medal, and in the other, he carried a few business cards. With the game won and his standout performance, some scouts had already reached out to him.

As the family made their way to the parking lot, the mascot appeared behind them. A muffled voice called out from inside the suit.

“Hey, family!”

Everyone turned, surprised. The mascot slowly removed the oversized head, revealing Felix, his hair disheveled and a nervous glint in his eyes.

“Felix?” his mother asked, incredulous, her expression shifting rapidly from surprise to disapproval. “You were the one acting like a fool out there?”

Felix, still catching his breath from the show, scratched the back of his neck and gave a sheepish smile.

“Well… yeah. What did you think?”

“What did we think?” his father replied, a mix of disbelief and disappointment in his voice. “We think you made a fool of yourself!”

“Felix, that’s not something to be proud of!” his mother added. “While Anthony is winning trophies and building a future, you’re out there playing clown.”

“A mascot isn’t a career, you know?” his father chimed in, as if needing to underline the point.

His older brothers, who had been walking a few steps ahead, turned back upon hearing the conversation.

“At least it was funny… in a sad way,” one of them said, laughing.

“Yeah, the only thing you accomplished was becoming the most pathetic mascot this team’s ever had,” the other added with a smirk.

At first, Felix tried to keep his composure, but his gaze dropped. His parents and brothers continued walking, ignoring him entirely as they resumed their discussion about Anthony’s stellar performance.

When they were far enough ahead, Anthony stopped and turned back to Felix.

“Hey, hold up a second,” he called out, staying behind with him.

Felix, who had been trying hard not to let the words affect him, looked at Anthony with an unreadable expression.

“What? Are you here to make fun of me too?” he asked, trying to sound nonchalant but not quite managing it.

Anthony shook his head, a lopsided smile on his face.

“Make fun of you? Nah. Actually, I think you did pretty well. I’ll admit, when you said you’d be the team mascot, I thought it’d be a disaster. But… well, I have to admit you got everyone’s attention.”

Felix let out a short, bitter laugh.

“Yeah, attention so they could laugh at me.”

Anthony clapped a hand on Felix’s shoulder.

“Look, don’t let what Mom, Dad, or those idiots say get to you. You know what I think? I think you did something none of them would ever dare to do: you risked looking like a fool just to make people laugh. That takes guts.”

Felix stared at him, somewhat surprised.

“You really think so?”

Anthony pretended to ponder for a moment before flashing a teasing smile.

“Well, yeah, though that doesn’t mean it wasn’t a bit ridiculous. But seriously, maybe you should consider a career in theater… or the circus. Who knows? You might end up as a famous comedian.”

Felix chuckled, shaking his head.

“I don’t know, Anthony. I don’t think this is my thing. I just… I don’t want to be the guy everyone remembers only because they laughed at him.”

At that moment, a group of kids their age walked past, also leaving the stadium. Their voices were clear, even at a distance.

"Did you see the mascot?" one of them said, laughing. "It looked like it was in its own show! What a clown."

Felix pressed his lips together, pretending not to care, but Anthony noticed.

"Hey," Anthony said, giving him a light nudge. "If you had fun, that's what matters. Besides, I'm pretty sure half those laughs were genuine."

Felix managed a small smile.

"I guess so… but enough about me. I saw a lot of scouts approach you after the game. What are you planning to do?"

Anthony sighed and glanced at the business cards in his hand.

"I’ll probably do what I always do. Just pick one and go with it…”

They walked in silence for a moment before Anthony broke the tension with another joke about how great Felix would look in a giant chicken costume. For the first time that night, Felix felt the weight of his embarrassment lighten, if only a little.

Echo stood in front of two apples on the kitchen table, staring at them as if solving the world’s most complex riddle. One was a bright, nearly flawless red, while the other had a few small brown spots but looked juicier.

"Which one should I pick?" he murmured to himself, loud enough for his sisters to hear.

Maud, sitting on the other side of the table, calmly nibbled on a quartz rock loaf with her usual composure. "The one you prefer," she replied without looking up.

"That’s not helpful," Echo grumbled, frowning as he alternated his gaze between the two apples. "What if I pick the one that looks perfect but doesn’t taste as good? Or what if the juicy one has too many seeds?"

Pinkamena, lounging on the nearby sofa with her eyes fixed on the ceiling, sighed in exasperation. "You could eat both and end the dilemma."

"That would be cheating!" Echo snapped, turning to her with an indignant expression. "What kind of pony would do that? This is an important choice!"

"It’s an apple," Pinkamena replied in her monotone voice. "Not a peace treaty between pony clans."

Echo huffed but didn’t stop staring at the fruit. "What if I’m setting a precedent? What does it say about me if I choose a superficial apple over one with character? What kind of message am I sending to the universe?"

Maud finally lifted her gaze, her neutral eyes locking on her brother. "Why not pick the one most likely to satisfy you right now? The universe probably isn’t paying attention."

"Easy for you to say," Echo retorted, gesturing dramatically at her. "You don’t know how fickle the universe can be like I do. Besides, you always know what you want. You don’t have this constant weight of doubt hanging over you."

"That’s not entirely true," Maud said as she took another bite of her quartz. "Sometimes I debate between basalt and schist."

"Really?" Echo seemed genuinely intrigued for a moment, but Maud only blinked slowly. It was hard to tell if she was being serious or making an attempt at humor in her own way.

"We might make it to the plaza by the time you decide," Pinkamena interrupted, standing up with a slow, heavy movement. "Harshwhinny said to be on time."

Echo checked the clock and let out a defeated sigh. He grabbed the spotted, juicy apple and took a bite, chewing with a hint of resignation. "Fine. Let’s go. But if this apple turns out to be a mistake, I don’t want to hear an ‘I told you so.’"

"I don’t say that," Maud replied, gathering her rock.

"Me neither," Pinkamena added as they headed out the door. "But I might think it."

The sun had just begun to peek over the horizon when I found myself in the town square, adjusting the pendant hanging around my neck. It was expertly crafted by the artisan I’d commissioned, a simple yet sturdy case for the precious purple star-shaped gem I’d found in the Pie family cave. When I picked it up the day before, I couldn’t help but grin at how well it turned out. Now it hung from a plain iron chain, resting comfortably against my chest. It wasn’t flashy, but it was mine, and that was enough.

The square was starting to fill with colts and fillies of all ages, though some wore unmistakable expressions of grogginess. I couldn’t blame them; after all, Harshwhinny had been very specific: "Tomorrow, first thing in the morning, in the town square." Beyond that, she hadn’t explained a thing. That level of mystery had some ponies on edge, while others, like me, remained indifferent.

However, one thing did pique my curiosity: Harshwhinny herself. We’d met her as an energetic organizer, full of corny jokes and a constant smile. Lately, though, that spark seemed to have faded. Perhaps it was the apathetic stares she received or how her jokes went unnoticed, as if no one was really listening. During the recent trials, her tone had grown drier, heavier, as if the enthusiasm she once had had slowly crumbled away.

To be honest, I wanted to laugh at some of her jokes, but the awkward silence always held me back. Poor Harshwhinny—I just hope this doesn’t affect her in the long run.

When she arrived, it wasn’t hard to notice her. Her presence always drew attention, even if now she seemed to drag her hooves more than usual. She stood in front of us, holding a list in her hooves.

“Listen carefully,” she began in a tone that tried to be firm but couldn’t quite hide a note of resignation. “I’m going to read a list of names. Those I call will follow me. The rest will have to stay for a talk.”

The plaza fell into complete silence. A few ponies whispered among themselves, trying to guess who would be chosen. As for me, I didn’t know what to expect.

Harshwhinny stared at the list for a moment, as if weighing something, then began.

“Flashing Blow.”

The named pony puffed out his chest and stepped forward, as though he already knew his name would be there. Of course, after what he did yesterday, no one could ignore him.

“Maudileena Daisy Pie.”

I watched as Maud calmly stepped forward, her face as stoic as ever, as though being on that list was as routine for her as observing a rock. Honestly, I don’t know how she does it, but she has this air that always silences everyone.

“Pinkamena Diane Pie.”

Pinkie cautiously took a few steps forward.

Finally, Harshwhinny’s gaze landed on me, and for a moment, I thought she must have been looking at another pony behind me.

“Echorellian Crumble Pie.”

Hearing my full name made me blink in surprise. What? Me? I stepped forward, noticing how a few eyes followed me. I wasn’t sure what to think. All I knew was that my heart was beating faster than I wanted to admit.

When I reached the others, Harshwhinny rolled up her list and stepped forward. “The rest of you... well, some of you will have the proper talk later while the rest, we thank you for your cooperation.”

The murmurs of those who stayed filled the air, accompanied by long faces, sighs, and a few grumbles—mostly from the other pony tribes. But I couldn’t focus on them. I had too many questions and not a single answer. What did being on this list mean? Why were we chosen?

Harshwhinny looked at the four of us. Her eyes lingered on each of us, and for a moment, her expression changed. It wasn’t sadness or joy. Perhaps something closer to… expectation.

“You,” she finally said, “are the ones selected for the next stage. I hope you’re ready because it won’t be easy.”

And with that, she turned and signaled for us to follow her.

Harshwhinny led us to the edge of the nearby forest, where four saddlebags were lined up, one for each of us. She stood before us with a firm stance, holding a scroll in one hoof and projecting that unshakable air that only she could manage.

“This is the final test,” she announced in a tone as sharp as a drill sergeant’s. “You must travel from this point to the goal on the other side of the forest. Inside your saddlebags, you’ll find a map of the route you need to take, along with some provisions.”

While she spoke, I took the opportunity to glance around. There was no audience, no families, no sign of the other foals. We were completely alone. Comforting. Or maybe not.

Harshwhinny continued, “Keep this in mind: the faster you complete it, the better your records will be. No distractions. No wasting time. This is important. More than you realize. So stay focused and head straight to the goal. Together.”

She made it abundantly clear, repeating herself so much that I felt she might as well carve it into my forehead.

“With that said,” she added, pulling a stopwatch from one of her vest pockets, “begin!”

“Wait! I have a lot of questions!” I exclaimed, raising a hoof urgently.

I didn’t get far. Before I could even articulate a single thought, Flashing Blow shoved me onto the path.

“Didn’t you hear her? No wasting time,” he snapped.

“But—hey, hey! I have important questions!” I stammered, being dragged along with my hooves barely touching the ground.

Eventually, he let go, and I resigned myself to walking on my own. Better that than being dragged like a sack of potatoes. I let out a long sigh. “I had important questions, for the record!”

From up ahead, without even turning around, Flashing replied in his usual indifferent tone, “Doesn’t matter. We need to reach the goal as fast as possible. You heard her.”

“Yeah, but… don’t you want to know what’s going on here? I mean, think about all the craziness from the past few days. The absurdly difficult written exams, the physical tests that felt like military training, and let’s not even talk about the chaos with the unicorn and pegasus teams. What kind of organization runs this? It’s like someone threw this together at the last minute.”

Flashing let out a long huff, clearly losing patience. “For Celestia’s sake, are you always this chatty?”

My sisters, walking behind me, nodded in unison without saying a word.

“You’re not helping!” I exclaimed, turning to my sisters with mock indignation.

“And what do you expect to accomplish?” Flashing retorted, quickening his pace. “Are you just going to complain about everything?”

“Of course I am! A well-written complaint could help fix this for the next generation,” I replied in a sarcastic tone.

Flashing snorted and sped up even more, leaving us behind without bothering to continue the argument.

I had to hurry to catch up, my sisters following close behind. Maud remained unbothered as always, while Pinkamena kept her typical neutral expression. I couldn’t tell if they were as frustrated as Flashing or simply accustomed to my antics.

“You still haven’t answered my questions!” I shouted, trying not to lose sight of him among the trees.

The forest surrounded us with its cool air and dancing shadows, but my mind was filled with unanswered questions and theories no one seemed interested in hearing. Why didn’t anyone appreciate a good dose of intellectual curiosity?

The walk wasn’t easy. Flashing’s hurried, impatient steps set a pace that made it hard to enjoy the scenery—not that there was much to enjoy: twisted trees, roots jutting out like natural traps, and a breeze that seemed to whisper secrets in our ears.

Eventually, the dirt trail came to an abrupt halt at the base of a mountain.

“What now?” Flashing demanded. “Which way do we go?”

I pulled the map from my saddlebag, the same one we’d been given before starting this journey. As I spread it on the ground, I mentally reviewed our supplies: biscuits and jam, ropes, water.

The map depicted the forest we were in, with a winding route that seemed to carefully avoid every obstacle—except this mountain. Along the marked trail were scattered symbols, cryptic ones that gave me a bad feeling.

I pointed at the first symbol, right where we were standing: a cave drawn at the mountain’s base.

“This doesn’t make sense,” I muttered, more to myself than to them. “I don’t remember seeing a mountain like this in the middle of the forest. It’s like it appeared out of nowhere.”

“So what?” Flashing snapped in his usual brusque tone. “Does the map say we’re supposed to go through it or around it?”

We all inspected the map, but Maud was the first to answer in her monotone voice: “No, it doesn’t say anything about that.”

Flashing grumbled and stepped away from the group, frustrated. While he muttered complaints, I rolled up the map and stuffed it back into my saddlebag.

“If there’s no clear path, then the answer’s obvious. We go around the mountain. Let’s go!” Flashing announced, already moving without waiting for anyone.

“Wait. At least let’s investigate a little. There might be something useful at the trail’s end near the mountain,” I said, trying to reason with him.

“We don’t have time to waste on nonsense!” Flashing shouted, raising his voice.

I rolled my eyes dramatically. “Relax. We’ve barely started this journey. A few minutes won’t delay us,” I countered and, without waiting for his approval, headed toward where the trail ended at the mountain’s base. As usual, Maud and Pinkamena decided to follow me.

“You’re not going to find anything,” Flashing began, but he was interrupted by Pinkamena’s calm voice.

“I found something,” she said, pointing a hoof toward a nearby bush.

We approached, and there, partially hidden by leaves, was a sign. It looked surprisingly clean, as if it had been built yesterday. But the most unsettling part was the inscription on it.

We leaned in to read the words aloud, almost in unison:

“Where you stand, alone you’ll feel, but don’t give up for the sake of others.”

I frowned. “Great, another cryptic message with an air of ancient wisdom. I hope this doesn’t become a habit.” My sarcasm was cut off by a sound that chilled my blood.

Crack.

The ground split beneath us, swallowing us before we could react.

I opened my eyes abruptly. I was standing alone in a dark, empty cave. My pupils took a few seconds to adjust, but there wasn’t much to see. Darkness. And silence. An oppressive silence that made my stomach knot.

“Great,” I muttered, glancing around awkwardly. “Separated from the group again. This is becoming a recurring theme.”

I turned and checked my saddlebag. If I were lucky, maybe I’d find a lantern. Although, given our situation, my instincts told me luck wasn’t on my side.

As I rummaged, a sudden white light illuminated my face from the left. I blinked, startled.

“Well, I guess I was wrong.”

In front of me stood a glowing white door, piercing through the cave’s darkness. I raised a hoof to my chin, thinking. I’d fallen into a hole (although it didn't hurt at all), ended up in a dark cave, and suddenly, here was a glowing door. This screamed trap—or worse, cliché.

“Go to the light,” said a deep, dreamlike voice from somewhere above me.

My ears perked up instantly. “Oh, sure, because that doesn’t sound suspicious at all.”

“Cross the door,” the voice insisted, “and you’ll leave this place. You’ll return home without further obstacles.”

I took a step toward the door, my curiosity wrestling with my survival instincts.

“But,” the voice continued, “if you do, your companions will return with you as well and the journey will end here. If you choose to move forward, you’ll have to take the dark path behind you. However, I cannot guarantee what you’ll find there.”

I froze mid-step, narrowing my eyes as I stared at the door.

Is this part of the test? Of course, it is. Damn it, they almost had me thinking I was dead... again!

So, it’s a test, huh? Makes sense. Now that I think about it, everything lines up: the suspicious mountain appearing out of nowhere in the middle of an otherwise ordinary forest. That pristine sign? Far too clean for a place like this. If it were real, it should’ve been covered in moss or weathered by time.

All of this screams “staged.” We’re probably inside the mountain now, or in some kind of controlled environment designed to make us pause and reflect. The message on the sign, with its ancient wisdom vibe, makes sense now. This must be one of those psychological tests—separate the group, present a moral dilemma, and see who succumbs to temptation.

And speaking of temptation... that voice.

Of course! A dreamlike voice, a magical door, and a sudden fall into darkness. None of this is a coincidence.

It’s obvious the correct answer here is to take the dark path. “The harder road leads to the greater reward,” right? But... I have time.

I began feeling along the cave walls, my mind racing with theories. This has to be magic. Did they teleport us when we fell? Or is this some kind of illusion? I mean, this is Equestria; no way the government would toss a bunch of foals into a death trap as part of a standard test. It must be a controlled scenario, crafted to assess our skills and decisions.

Then again... why allow so many irregularities before? The pony tribes forming alliances early, ensuring they were on the same teams, acting as if they knew exactly what would happen. How did they predict all this? Why didn’t the organizers stop them? And what’s the point? What are they truly trying to measure here?

Ding.

Oh, wait, I think I found something.

My hooves touched the wall, and to my surprise, one of them passed straight through the rock like it was a hologram. Behind it, I felt something peculiar—solid and cold—a crystal embedded in the wall. It was long and shimmering, almost as if it had been waiting to be discovered.

Using both hooves, I began to wiggle it, applying some force to dislodge it. Finally, with a sharp tug, it came free, and I stumbled backward. The crystal fell to the ground, emitting a faint glow that illuminated the cave.

But then, something strange happened.

The walls around me started to melt—not literally, but as if reality itself was dissolving. It was like watching water spill over a painting, smudging shadows and outlines until they crumbled away, revealing a vibrant green space beyond.

“Well, this isn’t creepy at all,” I muttered sarcastically, clutching the crystal tightly as I tried to keep my composure.

I found myself standing on a forest trail, the earthy path clearly visible in the daylight, marking the way forward.

So, it was an illusion. I held the crystal up in front of me, turning it slowly in my hooves. This little fragment... was it the source of the illusion? Or the test itself?

I brought it closer to my eye, inspecting it carefully. I couldn’t help but feel excited. The texture was smooth, like it had been polished for centuries by expert hooves. But what really fascinated me was its structure—a lattice of prismatic minerals intertwined with faint traces of... magical energy?

“This is incredible,” I murmured. “How can this crystal generate something as complex as an illusion? Is it enchanted? Damn it, do enchantments actually exist?”

My mind began to wander. If this is real magic... then could I use it to craft something? How about enchanted armor? Or maybe a spear that glows in the dark? The possibilities are endless!

But before I could completely lose myself in fantasy, the crystal began to change. Its purple hue faded gradually, turning into a dull gray, as if its energy had been drained.

I sighed, shaking my head to clear my thoughts. My excitement waned, but I couldn’t forget my current situation. Holding the now-gray crystal, I followed the path until I reached a fork in the road.

There they were. Maud, with her impassive expression, and Pinkamena, who seemed slightly bored, turned their gazes toward me as I approached. However, it was Flashing Blow who broke the silence.

"By Celestia! You sure took your sweet time," Flashing said impatiently, stepping toward me. "For a moment, I thought you'd given up. Or gotten lost. Honestly, the latter makes more sense."

I raised an eyebrow. "I had something to do back there," I replied, holding up the crystal. "Check this out. It used to be purple, very similar to the star on my necklace."

I pointed to the small star hanging from the chain around my neck, but Flashing just stared at me as if I’d started speaking another language.

"Oh, this," I added, trying to explain further. "It was what kept the illusion of the test active. Once I removed it, everything fell apart."

Maud tilted her head slightly, intrigued. "Interesting. A crystal with magical properties?"

Pinkamena nodded. "It’s pretty."

Flashing, however, didn’t seem impressed—he seemed annoyed.

"What!?" he exclaimed, stepping closer. "You’re telling me we waited for… that? For some useless crystal?"

"Useless!" I shot back, dramatically outraged. "This crystal was the core of the test. It wasn’t that long, just a few minutes. It’s not a big deal."

"Oh, it is a big deal!" Flashing raised his voice, his tone turning more commanding. "Thanks to your distraction, we’re behind schedule. This is important, you understand? Some of us have real goals to achieve!"

"Real goals?" I repeated skeptically, tilting my head. "Do you think this is some sort of competition? It’s just an exercise, Flashing. There are no prizes or records to break. We’re here for… well, I don’t know what, but not for—"

"You don’t know what you’re talking about," Flashing interrupted with a snort. "Maybe it doesn’t matter to you, but some of us take this seriously. Some of us aspire to something greater."

"What do you mean?" I asked, narrowing my eyes. There was something about his tone that set me on edge.

Flashing stepped back slightly, but his arrogant demeanor didn’t waver. "Nothing you need to know," he said with a forced smile. "Just stay out of the way, alright? This isn’t a game."

Before I could reply, Pinkamena stepped in.

"Wow, guys, why all the fighting? Shouldn’t we be working together? You know, 'united we stand' and all that."

I sighed, still holding the crystal in my hooves. "It’s not a fight, Pinkamena. It’s… a philosophical discussion. Let’s just say we don’t exactly see eye-to-eye on how to tackle problems."

Flashing snorted, crossing his forelegs impatiently. "Oh, please! The only thing we’re debating is how much time you’re wasting with your indecision. Let’s just move already!"

I frowned, glancing down at the crystal I’d just retrieved. A sudden realization hit me like a lightning bolt. This thing was part of the test, something that should’ve stayed where it was. A pang of guilt shot through me, and my mind raced in circles, imagining some furious examiner or, worse, that I’d broken something important.

"Maybe… maybe I should go back and put it where I found it," I muttered, mostly to myself.

Flashing burst into laughter. "What? Put it back? Now? After all the time you spent digging it out? Please, don’t tell me you’re going to drag us all back over a silly hunch."

I opened my mouth to argue, but his mocking tone made me pause. He had a point. Going back now didn’t make much sense… but I still didn’t feel right taking something that might not have been mine to touch.

Finally, I let out a long sigh and gently placed the crystal on the ground, ensuring it was in a safe spot. "Fine, I'll just leave it here."

I leaned down toward the crystal and murmured, almost under my breath, "Sorry for messing with your test." A nervous chuckle escaped me as I straightened up, feeling a bit ridiculous. Who was I even talking to?

Flashing rolled his eyes. "Perfect! Can we move on now? Some of us want to finish this test before we turn a hundred."

Maud, who had been quietly observing the whole exchange, unrolled the map and held it out calmly. "The path continues east. There’s a clearing ahead where we can regroup and decide how to proceed."

"Thanks, Maud," I said, grateful for her composure amidst the chaos.

We set off, Maud leading the way while the rest of us followed in single file. As we walked, the nagging feeling that I might’ve altered something important lingered at the back of my mind. But I tried to shove it into a forgotten corner. There was no turning back now.

Author's Note

In the past, Felix worked as a mascot during one of Anthony’s football games, but instead of being seen as a supportive figure, he was ridiculed as a foolish distraction. Despite this, Anthony offered him words of encouragement, lifting his spirits. Anthony’s exceptional performance during the game earned him a stack of business cards from talent scouts, showcasing his undeniable skill on the field.

In the present, Flashing Blow, Maud, Pinkamena, and Echo are chosen to advance to the next stage of the trials, while the remaining participants are sent off for a stern talk regarding their performance.

Echo feels uneasy about progressing, as he has many doubts and criticisms regarding the trials, but Flashing interrupts him. They must now move from Point A to Point B against the clock.

Their first obstacle is a choice: continue forward or return home. Curious about the setup, Echo investigates and discovers the source of the test’s illusion—a crystal programmed with an enchantment. Realizing he may have tampered with something he shouldn’t have, he cautiously places the crystal back on the ground before moving on.

Fun Facts:

The cave trial initially seemed better suited for a later stage of the trials, but for narrative pacing, it was moved to the first challenge.

The unicorn and pegasus teams forming alliances and their behavior in earlier chapters will be addressed in future installments.

Flashing Blow’s cheating in the written exam went unnoticed by the supervisors, who see him as a candidate with significant potential despite his arrogant attitude.

Thanks for reading!

Chapter 20: Echoes of doubt Part 5 - The wall

The years passed, life flowing like a river, twisting and turning unexpectedly with its ups and downs.

Anthony now lived in a spacious house, one that had the potential to be elegant but felt more homely and modest in practice. There were no ostentatious luxuries, just functional furniture, simple decorations, and scattered family mementos on shelves and walls. It was night, and tranquility had settled over the neighborhood.

Anthony lay back on his old but comfortable couch, a glass of wine in hand, his eyes fixed on the TV. A football game played on the screen—one of his games from a few matches ago. The commentators praised a standout play Anthony had made, but his expression, typically animated when reliving such moments, was now somber.

The doorbell shattered the quiet.

With a low grunt, Anthony set his glass on the table and leaned on a cane, limping slightly as he got up. The injury to his right leg, sustained in his last game not long ago, was a constant reminder of the sacrifices he'd made. He approached the door and opened it, finding a man in a uniform standing there.

The man seemed oddly uncomfortable, his gaze lowered. A cap covered much of his face, and an exaggeratedly large mustache—clearly fake—hung awkwardly on his lip. His voice, when he spoke, was forced and raspy, as though mimicking a cartoon character.

"Mr. Anthony, I’m here to install your new TV," said the man, adding an unnecessary bow for good measure.

Anthony raised an eyebrow but stepped aside to let him in.

"Alright, go ahead. The box is in the living room."

As Anthony turned to lead the way, he felt an unexpected thud on his back. He spun around quickly, stumbling slightly from his limp, and saw the supposed technician holding a pillow with a mischievous grin.

"Felix!" Anthony exclaimed, finally recognizing his younger brother.

Felix removed the cap and mustache, revealing his familiar face.

"Surprised?" he asked with a smug smile. "I saw your installation request at work and asked to take it. Cost me a few extra hours, but here I am."

Anthony, still taken aback, let out an incredulous laugh.

"Weren’t you working as a chef’s assistant at a restaurant last month?"

"Yep," Felix replied. "But you know me. Now I’m into installations—always trying new things."

After clearing up the confusion, they both settled into the living room. Felix noticed the game on the TV and couldn’t resist making a joke.

"Are you seriously watching one of your own games? Don’t you ever get tired of hearing the commentators praise you?"

Anthony shot him a look that would normally be a mix of irritation and humor, but this time, there was something different. His expression carried a strange melancholy. Felix noticed but chose not to bring it up just yet.

As they chatted, Felix became aware of Anthony's limp.

"What happened to your leg?" he asked, gesturing toward it with the head.

Anthony waved it off dismissively.

"Nothing serious. Just a little injury from the last game. No big deal."

Felix could sense the evasion and decided not to push. Instead, Anthony, perhaps buoyed by his brother’s presence, suggested, "Hey, it’s been a while since we did something together. How about a little outing?"

"Sure, after I set up your TV. What do you have in mind?" Felix asked, raising an eyebrow.

The answer came in the form of bats and balls. They found themselves at a batting cage, a space filled with nets and pitching machines. Felix looked around in surprise.

"Baseball? Really? I thought you’d drag me to toss around a football or something." He inspected a bat with mild curiosity.

"That’d be too predictable, don’t you think? Besides, this place is quiet—perfect for chatting. And who knows, you might discover you’re a baseball prodigy," Anthony replied with a lopsided grin as he adjusted a batting helmet.

Anthony took the first turn, walking into the batting cage with a mix of confidence and the awkwardness brought on by his injury. He raised the bat, planted his feet firmly, and waited for the first pitch. The metallic crack of bat meeting ball echoed through the space. Though not a perfect hit, the ball flew forcefully into the net.

Felix watched intently, studying every movement—from the grip on the bat to the twist of his shoulders.

"Not bad for a guy with a limp," Felix teased, earning a look of mock indignation.

"Get in here and show me what you’ve got," Anthony challenged, gesturing toward the cage.

Felix stepped up, gripping the bat awkwardly. Anthony, standing outside the net, began shouting tips on how to position his feet, balance his weight, and time his swing.

The first pitch sailed past him, and Felix grimaced in frustration. The second hit the bat with a weak "clink," barely making it a few feet. But on the third attempt, Felix connected solidly, sending the ball flying farther than anyone, including Anthony, had expected.

"Not bad at all!" exclaimed Anthony, smiling with genuine pride. "Though you’ve still got a ways to go to catch up to me."

Felix set the bat aside, shaking his sore hands but with a satisfied grin.

"Not too shabby for someone who spends his life bouncing between random jobs, huh?"

The two sat on a nearby bench, sipping water and letting the sweat cool off. It was one of those rare silences that wasn’t awkward. But Anthony broke it suddenly, staring at the empty batting cage with a serious expression.

"Felix, have you ever wondered what you want to be?"

The unexpected, direct question caught Felix off guard. He set his water bottle down and looked at his brother with a furrowed brow.

"Where’s this coming from?" he asked cautiously.

"Just answer me. What do you want to be?" Anthony insisted, his tone more earnest than Felix was used to hearing from his older brother.

Felix leaned back on the bench, letting out a deep sigh as he stared at the ceiling of the batting facility.

"You know me," he said honestly. "I don’t know. I’ve tried a bunch of things, explored every option that’s crossed my path, and I still don’t have an answer. And honestly, I think I want to try everything. I don’t want to pick just one thing and stick with it forever. I don’t know how you do it—choosing one thing and just going all in."

That last comment made Anthony look down, his face hardening slightly. Felix noticed and quickly added:

"Though I have to say, I’ve always admired you. Everything you accomplished at such a young age—being recognized for your talent, living the dream that so many wish for—that’s not easy to achieve. You should be proud of that."

Anthony let out a brief, humorless laugh as he fiddled with the cane he had brought along.

"That’s what I thought at first," he admitted. "That it was all worth it, that it was what I wanted. But… I don’t know if I’m happy."

Felix looked at him, surprised, unable to hide his confusion.

"What do you mean?"

Anthony sighed, resting his elbows on his knees.

"Football was one of those ‘pick something and live it’ decisions. And I did. I gave it my all, and at first, it was thrilling. But as the years went by, it started feeling more like a burden than a passion. It’s like I got trapped in something that stopped making me happy, but I couldn’t escape. My leg injury was the last play, literally. It took me out of the game, and now I can’t stop thinking about what my life might’ve been like if I’d had the courage to try different things, like you. I’ve always envied that part of you, Felix."

Felix hesitated for a moment, searching for the right words. Finally, he spoke with genuine curiosity:

"So… what do you want to be?"

Anthony looked up at the night sky, the stars reflecting in his eyes like a mirror of his thoughts. A faint smile curved his lips before he answered:

"This is going to sound ridiculous, but sometimes I imagine working on a farm. Growing something—it doesn’t matter what—pears, strawberries, apples. I picture myself plowing the fields under a warm sun, in a silence so pure it almost feels alive. It’s the complete opposite of the roar of a packed stadium."

Felix couldn’t help but chuckle and gave him a playful nudge. "You? A farmer? In a quiet place? You can’t even stay quiet for a minute!"

They both laughed heartily, but the laughter soon faded into a moment of understanding. Felix added sincerely, "But seriously… that sounds nice. Peaceful, calm."

Anthony nodded slowly, as if savoring the thought, before continuing. "Yeah, but that’s not the only thing I dream of being. And this is going to sound even more ridiculous..." He paused, as though searching for the right words.

"A guard."

Felix raised an eyebrow, puzzled.

"A guard? Like a police officer or something?"

Anthony shook his head slightly, his gaze distant as if lost in some corner of his past or imagination.

"No. I mean a guard like in medieval stories. A royal guard protecting the innocent. Someone who stands firm, defending what’s right. I know it sounds silly, but to me, that idea is a thousand times more exciting—more noble—than being a football player."

Intrigued by the seriousness in his brother’s voice, Felix asked, "Then why don’t you try it? If it’s something you really want, why not go for it? You’ve told me yourself there’s nothing wrong with following what you’re passionate about."

Anthony let out a deep sigh, his expression turning solemn, as though he were carrying the weight of something invisible.

"That’s the problem," he said quietly. "Making decisions isn’t hard, Felix. The hard part is living with them. Every choice you make becomes a path you can’t escape. And sometimes… I’m not sure if I have the courage to face what comes next."

Felix opened his mouth, wanting to respond, but the words got stuck when he saw Anthony close his eyes and lean back against the bench. The water bottle slipped from his hand, and a soft snore broke the silence.

"Seriously? You fall asleep right after getting all philosophical?" Felix muttered, a mix of fondness and frustration in his tone.

Carefully, he helped his brother up and walked him back home. He settled Anthony into his bed, removing his shoes and ensuring he was covered with a blanket.

Before leaving the room, Felix paused at the door. He watched Anthony as he slept, his face relaxed and free of the worries he had shared moments ago.

"Decisions aren’t that hard..." Felix murmured to himself, repeating his brother’s words as he softly closed the door.

We kept walking along the route marked on the map. Initially, Maud led us at her usual calm, methodical pace, but it seemed her natural speed—or lack thereof—got on Flashing’s nerves. He took charge again, pushing the group forward at an unforgiving pace.

According to the map, we were making our way through the forest near Rockville. Normally, this forest looked like something straight out of a dark fantasy tale: twisted trees with gray or dried-out leaves, elongated shadows, and an ever-present air of desolation. Sure, there were exceptions with a few healthy trees, but the overall atmosphere leaned more toward gloomy than inspiring.

However, as we moved forward, something strange began to happen. The landscape started to transform. What was once drab and lifeless became vibrant and full of life. Lush green trees towered around us, and towering mountains emerged in the distance, enclosing us. It was as if we had crossed a portal into a dreamlike fantasy forest.

This should have thrilled me. This was exactly what I had hoped to find since arriving in this world. But instead, I felt a twinge of skepticism. I knew Rockville, and this wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. This had to be another case of “planning,” likely orchestrated by those illusionary crystals like the one from the previous trial.

So instead of marveling, this view only reminded me that what surrounded me was a constructed fantasy, while my reality remained gray, monotonous, and dry. I scowled, feeling a fresh wave of disappointment. Again.

Flashing’s brisk pace didn’t help at all. Each step made my hooves ache. Still, we pressed on until we reached a narrow gorge between the mountains. Our progress halted when we encountered a colossal boulder with traces of minerals blocking the only path through.

"And now what?" I asked, more annoyed than I intended.

Flashing examined the map with his usual air of indifference. “There’s a rock symbol here. This must be it. I guess we’ll have to climb over it.”

I stepped forward with theatrical confidence and a sly grin. "This is nothing for the Pies. We’re rock farmers, after all. Watch and learn—we’ll turn it into gravel." With dramatic flair, I pretended to roll up imaginary sleeves.

Maud and Pinkamena looked at me approvingly, clearly believing I could do it.

I approached the boulder, took a deep breath, and, with all my strength, delivered a direct punch. I fully expected it to shatter under my mighty blow.

The result: a soft puff in the air.

The silence that followed was so awkward it could have been sliced with a knife. My face fell as my sisters avoided eye contact with me. Then Flashing broke the tension with uncontrolled laughter.

"Ha ha ha! Who would’ve thought? You punch like a filly. Well, it makes sense, seeing as you are a filly… which makes it even funnier!"

Tears streamed down his face as he staggered from laughter.

I looked at him with all the seriousness I could muster. "Did he just say what I think I heard?"

My sisters reacted instantly. Maud’s eyes widened slightly—a detail anyone else would miss, but not in our family—and she immediately clamped a hoof over Flashing’s mouth with surprising strength. Flashing was left stunned, emitting muffled protests.

Pinkamena, meanwhile, approached me carefully. "Uh… of course not. He didn’t say what you think."

"Then what did he say?" I asked, my tone bordering on disbelief.

"He said… he said… Oh, look! The rock grew eyes!" Pinkamena pointed with exaggerated enthusiasm.

"Please, Pinkamena. You’re obviously changing the subject because you know—" I froze mid-sentence.

Two enormous eyes, a deep brown, suddenly opened on the boulder.

I instinctively stepped back, as did Pinkamena, as the giant rock began to rise, kicking up a cloud of dust that momentarily blinded us. When the dust settled, a colossal figure made entirely of stone stood before us. It was a bipedal creature of intimidating proportions—a stone golem.

Pinkamena leaned toward Maud and whispered, “That was close.” Maud simply nodded.

The golem towered imposingly, blocking our path like a living wall. Its eyes glowed faintly as it observed us from above. I blinked a few times, trying to process its sheer size; it was easily as tall as a two-story house.

A golem! A real, honest-to-Celestia golem! Now we’re talking epic. This is next-level stuff. Mythical creatures you usually only see in RPGs and fantasy adventures. I have to admit, each day of this event surprises me more with its magic and wonder: unicorns, pegasi, that illusionary crystal… and now, a golem.

Wait a moment. Come to think of it, I’m noticing a pattern. I get excited about every new magical thing that appears… and it always ends in disappointment. I looked at the golem with a mix of anticipation and resignation. “Don’t let me down, stone giant,” I thought as I planted my hooves firmly.

Wow, they really didn’t hold back on creativity for these trials. Who’s organizing this, anyway? The government? The royalty? Or maybe some educational institution? Whoever it is, they’ve got style. But now’s not the time to get distracted. Focus, Echo.

The golem silently observed us for what felt like an eternity before slamming down to the ground with an earth-shaking thud. A cloud of dust rose around it, making us cough as we tried to regain visibility.

Then, to my complete disbelief… the golem coughed.

Flashing was the first to react. He took a few steps forward, craning his neck as he inspected the surroundings, probably looking for a crack or alternate route. Finding nothing, he looked up at the golem.

“Hey, we need to get through. Why don’t you move? The great Flashing has to get to the other side as soon as possible,” he said with his usual arrogance.

The golem coughed again, but this time, it spoke. Its voice was slow and deep, exactly what you’d expect from a living stone creature.

“I will move… of course. But first, I want something in return. You must give me…”

“Oh, come on. Fine, whatever it is. Just say it—what do you want?” Flashing interrupted impatiently.

The golem raised one of its rocky stumps to what might have been its chin, adopting a thoughtful pose. Then it shrugged, as if to say, “I don’t know.”

There was an awkward silence before Pinkamena, Maud, and I started guessing.

“A special rock?” I suggested.

“A rare mineral?” Maud added in her monotone voice.

“A blanket?” Pinkamena offered without much enthusiasm.

With each suggestion, the golem slowly shook its head.

Finally, we huddled in a circle to discuss our options, keeping a respectful distance from the massive living stone. Maud and I couldn’t help but let our gazes wander to the intricate layers of rock making up the golem. Each fissure and embedded mineral spoke to us in a language only geology enthusiasts could understand.

“It’s fascinating,” I murmured, leaning slightly toward the golem to examine a shimmering vein in its right shoulder. “See that, Maud? It looks like mica, but it has a more intense sheen. Maybe a mix with feldspar.”

Maud nodded slowly. “Yes. There are also quartz inclusions in the lower limbs. But what interests me most is the core. Its chest seems to have something like a geode… probably amethyst. That could explain the internal glow.”

“Amethyst? I didn’t notice that. It might be the source of its energy,” I replied, my words spilling out as my mind worked overtime. “And those formations on its hands—they look more recent. Maybe additions to reinforce its structure. I’d guess calcite by the texture, though that’s more fragile than I’d expect on a golem.”

Flashing, ears drooping, sighed and muttered, “Is this normal? Seriously? We’re standing in front of a golem that could crush us, and you two are discussing its design like it’s a gala dress.”

Before I could respond, Pinkamena leaned over and whispered to Flashing, “Completely normal. They always end up like this. Start with a rock, and it spirals into a full geological debate. If I had a bit for every time Maud and Echo talked about textures or mineral veins, I’d have enough to buy a mountain… made of schist, of course.”

Maud, without taking her eyes off the golem, added, “It’s not that complicated. Rocks are very interesting and exciting. Observing them, you can learn a lot. Echo understands that.”

I nodded, half-smiling. “Exactly. Every mineral, every layer of rock has meaning. For example,” I pointed to a rock near the golem, “the Golem might become interested in a rock if we present it to him like that granite over there has magnetite inclusions. It's rare to find such a pure specimen in this region."

Maud approached the granite, evaluating it with a firm tap. “It’s a good idea. But we should also look for something more symbolic. That rose quartz at the base of the ravine might be more suitable. It’s a mineral associated with harmony.”

As we discussed our observations, Flashing finally lost his patience. “By Celestia! Are you going to offer it half a mountain or what? Maybe it just wants us to pass quietly.”

The golem fixed its glowing gaze directly on me—or more precisely, on my necklace.

“That…” it rumbled in its deep voice, pointing with a weathered stone stump. “That interests me.”

I froze for a moment. “My necklace?”

The golem nodded, slow but deliberate. “Give it to me, and I will let you pass.”

Flashing wasted no time, immediately blurting out with a hurried smile, “Perfect! Just give it your necklace, and we’re done. Problem solved.”

Instinctively, I clutched my necklace tightly to my chest.

“Wouldn’t you want something else?” I asked, trying to sound reasonable while my mind raced for alternatives. “We’ve got saddlebags full of stuff. Surely something in there catches your interest.”

The golem shook its massive head, the sound echoing through the narrow pass.

“Seriously, nothing? We’re rock farmers! We could find you something special. Maybe quartz, or—”

“No” it rumbled.

"I can also offer you a piece of my fluffy tail... I'd just need to find something to cut it with," I said thoughtfully.

“No,” he said again, the finality in its voice making me swallow hard. “The necklace or nothing.”

Flashing stepped forward, clearly irritated. “Didn’t you hear? It’s simple! Give up your stupid necklace, and we can move on. This is getting ridiculous.”

“It’s not stupid!” I shot back, raising my voice with palpable indignation. “This necklace is possibly a Pie family relic. We found it in a cave that had been lost for generations! I’m not handing it over just like that.”

Flashing clenched his teeth, visibly losing the last shred of patience he had. His tone shifted from feigned cordiality to something much sharper.

“Oh, please! It’s just a piece of metal with a star-shaped gem. Stop acting like a martyr. There are more important things than some dumb necklace—like, I don’t know, finishing this trial already!”

“It’s more than just a piece of metal!” I insisted, my hooves digging into the ground in frustration. “It’s likely tied to my family’s history—maybe even a fascinating one! You can’t just ask me to give it up like it means nothing.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Mr. ‘This is part of my family’s legacy,’” Flashing spat, his mocking tone now completely unrestrained. “Maybe you’d like to write a poem about how meaningful it is while we sit here wasting time.”

His aggression caught even Pinkamena and Maud off guard, both raising their eyebrows at him.

“Flashing,” Maud said calmly, though her voice carried an unusual edge, “that was unnecessary.”

Flashing seemed to realize he’d crossed a line. His expression shifted immediately as he attempted to backtrack.

“Alright, alright,” he muttered, regaining a more conciliatory tone. “Look, I’m just saying we need to find a solution soon. There’s no point staying here all night.”

Before I could reply, Maud spoke again, gesturing toward the golem. “Did you notice that?”

We all turned to face the creature, whose movements had grown sluggish. Its massive stone jaw opened and closed with an almost… thirsty motion?

“I think it’s dry,” Maud observed, pulling a canteen from her saddlebag. “We could try water.”

“Water? That’s it?” Flashing frowned, crossing his forelegs like the suggestion was an enormous inconvenience.

Without responding, Maud calmly approached the golem and poured some water into a crevice that appeared to be part of its structure. The golem emitted a deep sound that resembled a sigh of relief, though its body remained largely unchanged.

“It’s not enough,” Pinkamena noted, her expression brightening with understanding. “Maybe it needs more?”

Silence fell over us as we exchanged uneasy glances. Sacrificing the group’s water supply wasn’t an easy decision. But after a few moments of hesitation, each of us began emptying our canteens into the golem’s crevice, one by one.

Finally, the creature straightened with a smooth motion. Its voice echoed again, now softer: “You may pass.”

I let out a breath, though it wasn’t entirely one of relief. I glanced at our saddlebags, now significantly lighter.

“Well, that was easy,” Pinkamena said, flashing a smile at Maud.

“It always is, when you pay attention,” Maud replied, unfolding the map to point out the next stretch of our journey.

As we resumed walking, Flashing brushed past me, deliberately bumping his shoulder against mine. He said nothing, but his message was clear: the tension between us wasn’t over.

I decided to ignore it, though my ears flicked back slightly in annoyance.

Author's Note

In the past, years have passed, and Anthony has achieved success in football. However, it’s not the dream life he envisioned. During an unplanned visit from Felix, the brothers share a heartfelt conversation where Anthony asks, “What do you want to be?” and opens up about his unhappiness with the path he chose.

In the present, the group reaches the second trial, where a massive stone golem blocks their path.

After an animated discussion between Echo and Maud about the golem, they learn that the only way to proceed is to surrender the star-shaped gem Echo carries. Echo refuses, unwilling to part with the mysterious item.

Tensions rise between Echo and Flashing, leading to a minor clash. However, they successfully complete the trial when Maud realizes the key to pacifying the thirsty golem is to provide it with water.

The tension between Flashing and Echo continues to simmer as they move forward.

Fun Facts:

Echo’s suggestion of cutting off a tuft of his fluffy tail to offer to the golem instead of the star is a playful callback to the second chapter, where Rarity was known for dramatic sacrifices.

The growing tension between Flashing and Echo sets the stage for deeper conflicts and character development in the upcoming chapters.

Thanks for reading!

Chapter 21: Echoes of doubt Part 6 - You shouldn't have done it

Felix entered his apartment—a small, austere space that was more functional than cozy. The walls were a faded gray, and only a few family photos and potted plants added any semblance of life to the place. Still in his carpenter’s uniform, he carried a bag of groceries from the local store in one hand and another bag filled with books on various professions—mechanics, industrial design, engineering—in the other. He dropped them onto the table with a dull thud, the emotional weight of the books seemingly heavier than their physical presence.

With a tired sigh, he took off his uniform, folded it meticulously, and draped it over a nearby chair. He then turned toward the living room wall—his "idea board." It was covered in handwritten notes, chaotic diagrams, crude sketches, and a web of threads connecting seemingly unrelated concepts. It was a reflection of his mind: a labyrinth of possibilities, unfulfilled desires, and unresolved doubts.

He collapsed onto the old sofa, the only truly comfortable piece of furniture in the apartment, and glanced at the clock. It was late—nearly midnight. He was about to turn on the TV, more out of habit than genuine interest, when his phone buzzed on the table, breaking the silence.

He looked at the screen. It was his father. Felix hesitated for a moment before answering.

“Hello?” he said, his voice heavy with exhaustion.

“Felix,” his father began, using that tone he always employed when trying to sound encouraging. “I have good news. I talked to some people, pulled a few strings… and I got you an opportunity. You could work as a public relations assistant for the football team. You know which one—the one Anthony plays for.”

The announcement took Felix by surprise. He paused for a few seconds, processing what he had just heard.

“I’d be working alongside Anthony?” he asked, unsure if the idea excited or unsettled him.

“Exactly. It’s a great opportunity, son. You’d be close to him, learning about the environment. Something stable, you know?”

The initial excitement quickly gave way to uncertainty. He recalled the last conversation he’d had with Anthony weeks earlier, when his brother had confessed his doubts and frustrations about his career. A knot formed in Felix’s stomach, as though he were stepping into territory that was too personal.

“I don’t know, Dad. I need to think about it.”

“Think about it?” his father replied, with a touch of impatience. “Don’t overthink this. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. You should take it, Felix. It’s what’s best for you.”

The conversation ended quickly after that. Felix hung up, set the phone aside, and leaned back on the sofa, staring at the ceiling as if searching for answers among the water stains. The idea board on the wall seemed to glare at him, silently judging his indecision.

Two weeks passed, and each day the uncertainty gnawed at him a little more. Should he accept the offer and work with his brother? Or should he keep searching for his own path, far from Anthony’s shadow? The indecision, his old companion, left him paralyzed. Night after night, he sat in front of his board, adding new ideas or erasing old ones, hoping the act might help him make up his mind.

But one evening, something shifted. He looked at the board one last time and felt drained—not just physically, but emotionally. The doubts that had haunted him for years seemed to scream at him from every note and sketch. He thought about the good times he’d shared with Anthony: playing in the backyard, sharing jokes, days when nothing felt more important than being together. That nostalgia, that warmth, finally gave him an answer.

He picked up his phone with determination, dialed the number, and waited.

“I’ll do it,” he said simply, his tone more relieved than enthusiastic. Then he hung up, stood up, and, in a symbolic gesture, tore several notes off the board. The weight of indecision was gone, at least for now.

That same afternoon, Felix decided to visit Anthony to share the news. He was radiant, more energized than he had felt in years. For once, he had a clear purpose—something he was genuinely excited about. He walked to his brother’s house, a smile on his face, imagining Anthony’s reaction when he learned they’d be working together.

When he arrived, he knocked several times but got no response. Frowning, he peered through the window and saw Anthony’s silhouette on the bed in his room. He had to be inside. Felix tried the doorknob, and to his surprise, it was unlocked. He entered cautiously, calling out.

“Anthony? It’s me, Felix. I’ve got great news!” he said enthusiastically as he made his way through the house.

He reached his brother’s room. Anthony was lying on the bed, seemingly asleep. Felix sat down beside him, still talking.

“You’re going to be so proud of me. I accepted the offer. We’ll be working together, just like the old days. Can you imagine? It’s going to be amazing.”

But Anthony didn’t respond. Felix noticed something strange about the stillness of his body. His breathing—there was none. Felix’s smile began to fade.

“Anthony?” he asked, his voice trembling as he gently shook his brother’s shoulder.

The silence in the room grew deafening.

“Anthony?” he repeated, louder this time, but the echo of his voice was the only answer he received.

Felix froze, his hand still on his brother’s shoulder, unable to accept what his mind already knew. The moment he had dreamed of—working alongside Anthony—had shattered in an instant. The emotions that had filled him with hope that morning transformed into a devastating void.

And there, in that small room, Felix’s world broke apart.

"This is ridiculous," I muttered, letting out a defeated sigh as I tried to fashion a bandage out of long grass to wrap around a rabbit's paw.

"For once, we agree," Flashing replied dryly, as he wrapped another rabbit with a level of competence that seemed oddly practiced but utterly unenthusiastic.

"You're so kind to stop and help all my rabbits despite being in such a hurry," remarked a translucent green pony with a voice that hovered between fascinating and irritating.

I huffed in frustration. Helping injured rabbits wasn’t exactly on my list of thrilling adventures.

Truth be told, we didn’t have much of a choice. The map was clear: a rabbit icon marked our next stop. And since this was obviously part of the trial, how could I not be suspicious of something so blatantly... ridiculous? A ghostly pony surrounded by injured rabbits. Sure, because that happens every day.

I sighed, resigning myself to the task.

When we first encountered her, I’ll admit I was a little excited. A ghost! I thought. How thrilling! I’d always wanted to believe in ghosts. But that excitement deflated quickly when she mentioned needing help bandaging her rabbits. Not a cryptic message, no grand revelation. Just rabbits. Bandages.

“Is this serious?” I muttered under my breath as I stared at the rabbit with a resigned expression. Even it seemed tired of the situation.

Compared to our previous trials—a creepy cave with an echoing voice and a rock golem that nearly crushed us—this was… tame. Disappointing, even.

"We could just ignore them and move on," I thought aloud. But I knew that wasn’t an option. These trials were designed to test our decisions and values. Skipping it would mean automatic failure, so here we were, stuck in this absurd task. Then again, maybe I was missing the point of the trial by being too aware of its constructed nature.

By the time I reached my eighth rabbit, I noticed something peculiar: the animals here were… different. This rabbit in particular stared at me intently, as though it were assessing me. Its eyes narrowed, and for a moment, I felt judged.

I had to admit, it was oddly fascinating to see such expressive emotions in animals.

"What’s up, little guy?" I asked, leaning in slightly.

Suddenly, the rabbit leapt backward, its expression one of pure disdain.

"Well, that was rude," I muttered as the rabbit bolted toward the group.

Weren’t they supposed to be injured or something? Maybe these rabbits were part of the trial... No, stop thinking like that. I’m ruining the fun of this game.

Then I saw it. The rabbit, now seemingly healed, stood before the others, waving its tiny paws like a charismatic leader addressing a revolutionary assembly. Was it just my imagination, or was it pointing at me?

"This... is weird," I admitted, watching as the group of rabbits collectively furrowed their brows.

One even clapped its paws together in a gesture that was unmistakable.

"Oh no," I whispered.

"I think we should stop here and move on," I suggested, my eyes fixed on the growing turmoil among the rabbits.

“Leave it unfinished? This is a trial; we have to see it through,” Flashing argued, as stubborn as ever.

A flicker of light in the corner of my vision made me turn my head. One of the rabbits had procured a tiny torch. Part of me wanted to shout, "How adorable!" while the other could only wonder, "Where in Equestria did it get that?"

"Flashing, I don’t know how to explain it, but my instincts are telling me we should run. Now."

The lead rabbit ran its paw across its neck in a universally understood gesture.

"RUN!" I screamed, stepping back as the army of rabbits, now brandishing the torch with alarming intent, began advancing toward us.

And so, as an unexpected army of angry rabbits chased us, I learned a valuable lesson: never underestimate a rabbit with a torch.

"Did I say the previous situation was ridiculous? Because this is infinitely more ridiculous!" I exclaimed, pressing my face against the wooden bars of the cage in this shallow cave.

"I’m going to be the first to ask—what in Tartarus is going on here?" Flashing yelled, casting an incredulous look around.

We all shrugged in a universal gesture of confusion.

I peered through the bars again. Outside, the lead rabbit had climbed onto a rock, gesticulating wildly to a cheering crowd of rabbits. It looked like it was giving a speech to mark a historic uprising. For Celestia’s sake, it seemed like it was declaring our sentence or something.

This is absurd. How is it possible that a bunch of rodents managed to imprison us? Well, sure, we could’ve handled a few, but when a wave of enraged rabbits swarms you, there’s not much you can do.

As I pondered, an idea crept into my mind: could this be part of the trial? Maybe they wanted us to try to escape, as a test of ingenuity or something similar. If that was the case, they were getting way too creative.

I turned my head to observe my cellmates. Maud sat calmly in a corner, as if nothing unusual had happened. Flashing was pounding the wall with his hoof, clearly irritated. Pinkamena, on the other hand, was looking around wide-eyed, still processing the fact that a group of rabbits had kidnapped us. Totally reasonable.

But the worst of it—the part that really made my blood boil—was that those rodents had taken our saddlebags. They were piled in the center of the camp, right under a large tree, like trophies.

And there, sitting atop the saddlebags, was my star.

I gritted my teeth and pressed my face against the bars, glaring at my star. It was more than just an object; it was a symbol, a promise... Well, not really, but let’s say it was.

“I’ll get it back, no matter what,” I muttered with determination, narrowing my eyes.

Alright, Echo, think. We don’t have our gear, we’re caged, and no magical rescue is coming. Time to improvise.

I turned toward the center of the cage and nodded to get the others’ attention. One by one, they gathered around me.

“Listen,” I began, trying to sound more confident than I felt. “We’re trapped and out of resources, but that doesn’t mean we can’t get out of here. We just need a plan.”

“A plan to deal with an army of rabbits?” Flashing asked, raising an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Exactly. Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned in this absurd trial, it’s that rabbits can be surprisingly terrifying,” I replied, casting a sidelong glance at the rabbit leader, who was now waving a small stick like a scepter.

“What do you suggest?” Maud asked, her tone as neutral as ever.

“Well, first we need to assess our options,” I said, stroking my chin dramatically. “We could try to break out by force, but considering Flashing’s been pounding the wall for a while and hasn’t made any progress, that doesn’t seem viable.”

“Thanks for pointing out the obvious,” Flashing muttered, frustrated.

“We could distract them,” I continued, ignoring his comment. “Though I’m not sure how effective that would be against an organized army of rabbits.”

“Maybe they just want carrots,” Pinkamena suggested innocently.

I paused, surprised.

“What?” I asked.

“Carrots. They’re rabbits. Maybe they’re upset because we didn’t give them carrots,” she explained, shrugging.

For a moment, I considered her idea. It was simple. Maybe too simple. But in this crazy world, who knows?

“You’re saying we should… negotiate with them?” I asked, half incredulous, half amused.

“Why not?” Pinkamena replied. “After all, if the rabbits are smart enough to kidnap us, maybe they’re smart enough to strike a deal.”

“Negotiate with rabbits,” I repeated, letting the words hang in the air. Then, a wry smile crept onto my face. “You know, Pinkie, that’s... the most ridiculous idea I’ve heard today. And considering the circumstances, that says a lot. Let’s do it!”

“Are you serious?” Flashing asked, staring at me like I’d lost my mind.

“As serious as a pony can be when trapped by revolutionary rabbits,” I replied, stepping toward the bars.

Carefully, I raised a hoof and waved it to get the rabbit leader’s attention. His gaze locked with mine, and for a moment, the air felt charged with tension.

“Hey, you! The one on the rock. We want to negotiate,” I said, trying to sound confident.

The rabbit tilted his head, clearly intrigued. He made an elegant leap from the rock and slowly approached, flanked by two smaller rabbits who seemed to be his bodyguards.

“This is going to be interesting,” I muttered to my companions as the leader rabbit stopped in front of the bars, scrutinizing us with a defiant expression.

I straightened as much as I could, imagining I was wearing a tie I didn’t have, and with a dramatic gesture as if adjusting it, I began the negotiation.

“As I was saying, we want to negotiate. We can get you carrots in the future if you let us out of here and return our belongings. What do you think?”

The leader rabbit placed a paw on his chin, clearly considering the offer. For a moment, I thought we were making progress. I allowed myself a small smile, glanced at my companions, raised an eyebrow, and murmured confidently:

“I think it’s working. Pinkamena had a great idea.”

But then, the rabbit let out a loud screech and pointed a paw at me. His expression shifted dramatically from contemplative to… was that barely contained rage?

“It’s not working! Change of plan! Distraction, now!” I shouted in panic, but before I could take a step, an avalanche of rabbits descended on me.

“Dang it!” I thought as they tied me up with ropes and dragged me out of the cage.

“Why just me?” I lamented incredulously as they tied me to a tree in the center of the camp, right in front of all our confiscated saddlebags.

“Echo! Don’t worry! Your older sisters will save you!” Pinkamena called dramatically from behind the bars.

"Yeah, sure..." I muttered as I watched Maud and Pinkie start kicking the bars with their hind hooves. The contrast between Maud’s calm efficiency and Pinkie’s overflowing energy was almost comical.

I couldn’t help but feel oddly conflicted. Technically, they were my older sisters in this life, but deep down, I knew I had lived longer than either of them. "Better not think too much about this," I told myself, while the leader rabbit approached me, his face a portrait of pure fury.

With exaggerated and theatrical movements, the rabbit began giving me little taps on the hoof.

"Ouch," I said, more out of protocol than actual pain. "Could you explain what’s happening here? Because, frankly, this is bordering on the surreal."

The rabbit let out a few sharp squeaks before grabbing the stick from earlier and starting to draw on the ground.

First, he drew a figure that looked like an earth pony. I tilted my head, still not understanding.

"Is that me?" I asked, pointing at the drawing. The rabbit nodded with a deep frown.

Then, he drew a rabbit, clearly representing himself. Wow, I had to admit, he had artistic talent for a rodent.

Finally, he added a third drawing: the pony (me) kicking the rabbit (him).

"What? That’s ridiculous! Fake news. A blatant defamation!" I exclaimed dramatically, as if I were in a courtroom.

The rabbit crossed his front paws and stomped the ground repeatedly with a stern look.

I sighed. "Okay, let me think..." I murmured, while in the background, I could still hear Pinkie and Maud kicking the bars.

"Clearly, there’s been a misunderstanding here. You’ve got the wrong pony. I’ve never kicked a rabbit in my life... Well, in this life or the last." I stopped for a moment, observing the rabbit, who now seemed impatient.

Suddenly, a memory hit me like a falling rock.

"Wait... is it you? The camp rabbit? The one I tried to move away from Pinkie when it was distracting her from getting another Cutie Mark?"

The rabbit nodded triumphantly, as I sank into my realization.

"Great," I thought. How could such an insignificant action, a simple attempt to move a rabbit, lead to all this?

"Fine, I admit it," I finally said. "It was me. But really? This? Kidnapping four foals as revenge for a kick? It’s a bit... disproportionate, don’t you think?"

The rabbit shook his head and sighed—or at least, it seemed like a sigh.

"Alright, alright. If it’s not about revenge, what do you want then?" I asked, exhausted.

The rabbit looked at me with an expression that mixed disdain and curiosity. I knew I needed to handle this smartly. Resorting to force wasn’t an option, especially with my sisters watching.

I took a deep breath and lowered my head. "Look, I’m sorry. I truly am. It wasn’t something I did out of malice; it just... happened."

The rabbit seemed taken aback by my tone.

"See that pink pony over there trying to break the bars?" I gestured with my head toward Pinkie, who was still enthusiastically smashing the wood. "She’s my sister. And yeah, I know this might sound silly, but she’s special. She has a bright future ahead of her, one you probably can’t even imagine. And that day at camp, I was scared. Scared something might change for the worse."

The rabbit tilted his head, listening intently.

"What I was trying to do was protect her. It was an impulsive decision; I didn’t think it through, and you ended up in the middle. I’m really, truly sorry."

The rabbit stared at me for a long moment. The fury on his face seemed to soften.

"So, what do you say? Can we put this behind us and resolve it like civilized creatures? I promise never to kick a rabbit again, intentionally or accidentally."

The rabbit let out a small squeak and looked at his companions. After a brief pause, he made a gesture with his paw, and several rabbits approached to untie me.

"Is that a yes?" I asked cautiously.

The rabbit nodded, and for the first time, I thought I saw a small smile on his face.

Crack.

A loud crunching sound echoed. Apparently, Pinkie and Maud had managed to break the bars.

Without missing a beat, both jumped on me, rubbing their cheeks against mine as if making sure I was still in one piece.

Pinkie sobbed dramatically. "Don’t worry, little brother. Your big sister is here to protect you."

Maud, though less effusive, stood firmly next to Pinkie. Her expressionless eyes fixed on the rabbits, her mere presence delivering a clear message: Don’t even think about trying this again.

"Relax! We’ve already resolved everything!" I said hurriedly, raising my hooves to calm the situation. "We promised not to kick any more rabbits, and they’ll let us go peacefully."

For a moment, it seemed like my words had worked. The tension began to dissipate… until a rabbit went flying through the air as if launched from a cannon.

We all turned toward the source of the chaos. There was Flashing, grinning with pure enthusiasm, kicking and headbutting any rabbit that dared approach.

"Spoke too soon," I muttered, closing my eyes in resignation.

The leader rabbit, regaining his composure, made a sharp gesture with his paw, and his minions obeyed instantly. A wave of furious rabbits charged at us.

“Run!” I yelled, already in motion before finishing the sentence.

The chase began immediately, the rabbits hot on our heels.

“It was Flashing! Chase him, not us!” I shouted, but my plea fell on deaf ears. The rabbits didn’t seem interested in distinguishing between guilty and innocent.

A small rabbit appeared out of nowhere and launched itself at my ear, biting with surprising ferocity.

“Ouch! Get off!” I cried, shaking my head until the tiny attacker went flying into a nearby bush.

These rabbits were anything but angels.

We kept running, weaving between trees and jumping over roots. We were about to leave the horde behind when a terrifying thought crossed my mind: our stuff was still back at the camp.

I skidded to a stop.

“Echo, keep running!” Flashing ordered, looking back at me in desperation.

“I can’t! My stuff is there! My star!” I shouted, turning around and running back in the opposite direction.

“Don’t be an idiot! It’s too dangerous!”

But his words were lost to the wind. I couldn’t leave it behind. It was more than just an object.

Back at the camp, the rabbits were reorganizing after their failed pursuit. I hid behind a bush, carefully observing the scene.

My saddlebags and my star were still there, right where they had left them, under a tree at the center of the camp. But between me and them stood a dozen rabbits.

“Alright, Echo. Think,” I murmured to myself. “This is just an obstacle course. You just have to dodge the rabbits, get to the tree, grab your stuff, and get out before they catch you. Easy, right?”

I took a deep breath and crept out of my hiding spot, moving quickly and staying low to avoid being seen.

The first group of rabbits didn’t notice as I sneaked past them. In the second stretch, I had to leap over a log, landing right behind a distracted rabbit.

Finally, I was just a few meters from the tree. I sprinted toward the saddlebags, dodging a rabbit that tried to block me with a clumsy jump.

“Got it!” I exclaimed, reaching my belongings. I slipped the collar with the star back around my neck and grabbed one of the saddlebags before the rabbits noticed me.

The leader rabbit let out an enraged squeal, and the entire horde charged toward me.

“No, no, no, no, no!” I yelled, frantically digging through the saddlebag for something useful. My hooves fumbled with a jar of jam, followed by a package of cookies.

Without thinking, I hurled the provisions into the air, shouting, “Take this as a peace offering!”

The rabbits froze. It was as if gravity itself had shifted their attention. They swarmed the food with such frenzy that they completely forgot their anger toward me.

These rabbits, they look like angels but are really little devils. I hope I don’t run into another one in the future.

Taking advantage of the distraction, I ran back toward my companions, panting and grinning triumphantly.

“What were you thinking? I told you to keep running! You risked everything by going back and exposing yourself again!” Flashing paced back and forth, clearly indignant, looking like he was about to explode.

“Relax,” I replied, raising a hoof and pointing it at him, trying to sound as calm as possible. “I went back mainly for my star.”

Flashing looked at me as if I had just said the most absurd thing in the world.

“Your stupid collar again?” he barked, exasperated. “You risked all these trials for that! I’m pretty sure we all have to reach the finish line. What will they think of me if I show up with an incomplete team?”

“Whoa, whoa, calm down,” I said in a relaxed tone, though his outburst was beginning to irritate me. “It’s not that big of a deal. First, I already told you my collar is special. Second, everything was under control until you decided to bulldoze through the rabbits like you were the star of an action book. So technically, this is your fault.”

“My fault? MY FAULT!?” he shouted, stepping so close I could almost feel his breath. “The leader rabbit clearly had something against you, so this is all on you.”

“Well… yes, but I would’ve resolved it—” I tried to explain, but Flashing interrupted me again, even louder.

“*Exactly! It was your fault. Because of you, the kindness test got interrupted. Now I’m not even sure if it’ll count or not!” He spun around, kicking a nearby rock in frustration.

“Kindness test? What are you talking about?” I asked, frowning.

Flashing froze. His ears twitched slightly backward.

“Did you just say ‘kindness test’?” I pressed, stepping closer to him. “What exactly are you talking about?”

For a moment, he hesitated. Then, suddenly, he let out a bitter laugh.

“Ha, ha, ha! You’re unbelievably naive!” he said with disdain. “What does it matter now? You ruined everything, so why not just spill it all?”

I stared at him, a mix of disbelief and curiosity swirling inside me. What in the world was he talking about?

“You really haven’t figured it out yet?” Flashing continued, pacing back and forth like an unhinged teacher lecturing a clueless class. “The cave, the golem… all these trials. The first was loyalty. The second, generosity. And this last one was kindness. Everything was going perfectly. I was advancing as one of the chosen ones. But then you came along and RUINED IT!”

“What are you talking about?” was all I could manage to say.

Flashing marched up to me, jabbing me with his hoof at every word.

“You ruined everything from the start! You made me look ridiculous in the race.” Jab. “You took forever to get through the cave!” Jab. “You nearly stalled us with the golem!” Jab. “And because of you, the trial with those stupid rabbits was interrupted.” Final jab.

I stumbled to the ground.

Great. At first, he was just a bit weird and egotistical—a little pretentious, sure, For me, it's okay to say some pretentious things from time to time. But now? Now, this guy was acting like a complete jerk.

Ordinarily, I would’ve shoved him right back. But… he’s just a colt, what, eight years old? Ten at most? Kids can be jerks sometimes. And technically, I’m an adult, which means punching a kid is probably not a great look—morally speaking.

Before I could react, Pinkamena and Maud stepped in between Flashing and me, standing firm like an unyielding wall of stone. Their expressions, as different as day and night, carried a single, unmistakable message: Don’t even think about touching him again.

Flashing hesitated for a moment, startled, but his angry expression quickly returned.

“I’ve had enough of you,” he muttered with disdain before raising his voice. “Of all the participants, I had to be paired with you lot. Weak, little earth ponies! It could’ve been pegasi or unicorns, but no! I got stuck with you. And the worst of all is Echo—he’s the most useless of the bunch.”

Something stirred in Pinkie.

“Take it back,” she said, lowering her head slightly, but her voice was tight with anger.

“What?” Flashing replied, confused.

“Take it back!” she repeated, louder this time.

“It’s fine, Pinkamena. It doesn’t bother me,” I said, trying to calm her down.

“No way,” Flashing said with a bitter laugh. “It’s the truth. He’s a useless waste of space who ruins everything.”

“TAKE IT BACK!”

“SHUT UP!” Flashing screamed, shoving Pinkie to the ground with enough force to make her skid slightly.

For a moment, the world fell completely silent.

Maud rushed to help Pinkie up, while I scrambled to my hooves.

“What did you just do...?” My voice came out low and controlled, but the fire inside me was blazing.

It was one thing to shove me, to yell, to blame me for everything. But laying a hoof on Pinkie—one of my sisters—that crossed every possible line.

I lifted my gaze to Flashing, my eyes sharp as daggers. If looks could kill, Flashing would’ve been six feet under already.

My thoughts raced uncontrollably. Morality, ethics, self-restraint—they all began to fade. After all, I was a colt too, wasn’t I? And if one colt hit another, that was… normal.

A malicious smile spread across my face as I stepped closer.

“Alright, Flashing,” I said, my tone anything but conciliatory. “Let’s see if you can handle someone as ‘useless’ as me.”

I wasn’t planning on holding back this time.

Suddenly, Echo dashed forward with all his might, leaping into the air for a final push, and swung his hoof straight at Flashing’s face.

But nothing happened.

Echo’s hoof stopped mere inches from its target, as if it had hit an invisible barrier. Flashing didn’t even flinch—not a blink, not a twitch.

“What?!” Echo exclaimed, eyes wide as he tried to process what had just happened.

Flashing barely moved, casually pushing Echo’s hoof aside like it was nothing more than a feather.

And then he smiled. It wasn’t the smug grin he’d worn earlier; this one was different. It was terrifying, malicious—a smile that seemed to make the air around him heavier.

Echo frantically looked around, searching for any clue, any hint of how his opponent had stopped him. Then, he saw it: small flashes of light emanating from Flashing’s messy mane.

“You’re…” Echo murmured, his voice filled with disbelief.

For the first time, Flashing brushed his mane aside, revealing a white horn protruding from his forehead.

“A unicorn… yes,” Flashing said, his voice calm but chilling.

“I’m surprised, Echo. I didn’t think you’d have the guts to try something so pathetic.”

Echo tried to pull his hoof back, but it wouldn’t budge. A bright green aura held it firmly in place.

“You know,” Flashing continued with a sigh of disdain, “it’s almost funny how incompetent earth ponies are. They can’t fly, they can’t use magic—they have nothing special. They’re just...” He paused, his face twisting into a look of pure contempt. “Earthbound.”

“Dirty, disgusting creatures that have to use their hooves to hold a simple object. Or worse, their mouths. How revolting.”

Echo struggled against the magic holding him, but the pressure only grew stronger. Now the green aura enveloped his entire body, immobilizing him from head to hoof.

“Pegasi are incredible fliers,” Flashing continued, stepping closer to Echo with deliberate menace, “capable of bending the weather to their will. And unicorns... we’re the great sorcerers, the ones who move the sun and the moon. But you…”

He leaned in until his face was mere inches from Echo’s, his gaze dripping with contempt.

“You’re only good for working the land. That’s your natural place. Rock farmers… because that’s all you can aspire to. You simply don’t have what it takes.”

“Enough, Flashing!” Maud’s voice was calm yet unyielding, each word carrying the weight of stone.

Flashing ignored her completely. His eyes were now locked on Echo’s collar, particularly the star pendant that hung from it.

“You don’t deserve precious things,” Flashing said cruelly. “You’re nothing. Just stepping stones for others to climb higher. You’re just pawns.”

With a flash of his horn, he lifted Echo off the ground, spinning him in the air like a rag doll before stopping him abruptly.

“So much trouble over such a stupid, worthless trinket,” Flashing sneered, raising a hoof toward the star.

“Don’t you dare!” Echo shouted, his voice full of rage and desperation.

“I will,” Flashing replied coldly, his smile as sharp as a knife.

Slowly, Flashing grabbed the collar with his hoof and yanked the star free with a decisive pull.

Grave mistake.

At that moment, his horn began to glow with an intense, erratic light, catching even Flashing off guard. Sparks of uncontrolled magic erupted from his horn like wild fireworks.

“What...?” Flashing murmured, his tone wavering between disbelief and fear.

Echo screamed in pain as Flashing’s magic surged, tightening around his body as if trying to crush him.

“ARGGGHHHH!”

With great effort, Echo cracked open an eye and saw Flashing’s expression shift. His smug smile vanished, replaced by confusion and growing terror.

Flashing’s horn sputtered violently, the glow escalating to a blinding intensity. That same brightness was directed towards the star which began to shine even more intensely.

“Stop it!” Maud yelled, but it was too late.

BOOOOM

The magical explosion rocked the entire area. A wild wave of energy rippled outward, throwing everyone against the trees. The forest erupted in blinding flashes, the air heavy with static electricity.

As the dust began to settle, Echo lay on the ground, gasping for breath. His body was numb, his thoughts clouded. A few feet away, his star pendant flickered weakly.

Flashing, meanwhile, was slumped against a tree. His horn was cracked, faint green light seeping from the fractures like an exposed nerve.

“What... was that?” Echo rasped, barely able to speak.

Maud and Pinkie quickly rushed to him, helping him sit up. Pinkie, tears streaming down her face, pulled Echo into a tight hug.

Echo’s gaze locked onto Flashing.

“What did you do?” he asked, his voice trembling with a mix of anger and disbelief.

Author's Note

In the Past:
Felix once had a significant opportunity to work alongside his brother, Anthony. However, his lingering doubts and overthinking caused him to delay making a decision. When Felix finally decided to accept, he rushed to share the good news with Anthony, only to be met with a devastating truth: Anthony was no longer with them.

In the Present:
Echo and his group are in the midst of the third trial, which involves bandaging forest rabbits as part of a whimsical but challenging task. However, the trial takes an unexpected turn when a particularly defiant rabbit convinces the others to kidnap the group.

Bound and imprisoned, Echo discovers that the ringleader is the same rabbit he had kicked back at the camp. Guilt-ridden, he reflects on how small actions can snowball into significant consequences. Sincerely apologizing to the rabbits, Echo manages to resolve the situation and earns their forgiveness—until Flashing Blow to push his way through the rabbits, further enraging them. The group narrowly escapes, but Echo realizes his star-shaped gem is missing. Ignoring Flashing’s warnings, Echo risks everything to retrieve it.

Their actions escalate the situation, prompting Flashing Blow to push his way through the rabbits, further enraging them. The group narrowly escapes, but Echo realizes his star-shaped gem is missing. Ignoring Flashing’s warnings, Echo risks everything to retrieve it.

Reunited with the gem, Echo becomes the target of Flashing’s frustration. The unicorn finally drops his facade, revealing his true arrogant and manipulative nature. As tensions rise, Pinkie defends her little brother, only for Flashing to shove her to the ground.

The sight of his sister hurt ignites a fierce anger in Echo. But before he can act, Flashing reveals another secret: he is, in fact, a unicorn.

Using his magic, Flashing snatches the star from Echo’s neck, causing it to release a chaotic surge of untamed, wild magic. The explosion leaves the group stunned and marks the beginning of greater turmoil.

Fun Facts:

Finding the perfect theme for Flashing Blow as a villain was challenging, I hope the track I chose is suitable.

The rabbit who bites Echo’s ear is, in fact, a young Angel Bunny, already living up to his infamous reputation as a troublemaker.

This chapter sets the foundation for Echo’s special bond with Maud and Pinkie, showing their fiercely protective sides.

While not originally intended to address the tribal disparities, the story highlights Echo’s struggles as an Earth pony and the challenges he faces. This serves to emphasize his uphill journey toward overcoming biological limitations.

The title of this chapter refers to two characters, Echo with what she did with the rabbit and somehow linked everything that happened and Flashing who didn't have to do what he did.

Notes:

Flashing Blow was designed as the antithesis of Echo. Where Echo is indecisive, Flashing is determined and arrogant, exploiting his privileges as a unicorn. His superiority complex highlights the contrast between pony tribes and underscores Echo’s long and arduous path to the top.

Flashing Blow, Initially envisioned as a stereotypical school bully, Flashing evolved into a more complex antagonist, I had doubts that a child could have that personality but I remembered someone: Cozy Glow.

The next chapter will see Celestia addressing the events in Rockville, as well as revealing the reasons behind the actions of the unicorns and pegasi, and the true purpose of the tests, as well as revealing Flashing's hidden motives.

Thanks for reading!

Chapter 22: Echoes of doubt Part 7 - Decided

"What did you do?" I asked, staring at Flashing in disbelief as I tried to shake off the dizziness still clouding my head after everything that had just happened.

"I... I don’t know," he stammered, his voice trembling. His eyes darted upward, focusing on his own horn. Gently, he touched it with a hoof, causing a final spark to flicker before the cracks along its surface began to mend slowly.

I shook my head, trying to regain clarity.

When my vision steadied, my gaze fell on something glinting a few meters away: the star. It was lying on the ground, seemingly unharmed. But I wasn’t the only one who had noticed. My eyes met Flashing’s, and we both stared at the star at the same time.

The air grew thick with tension. The star, the most important thing to me, now lay between us like a prize in some twisted game.

Without thinking, I bolted toward it, running as fast as my legs would carry me. But Flashing reacted too.

I pushed myself harder, straining every muscle. I was so close—I could feel it. Then Flashing’s horn lit up again.

BOOM!

A surge of green energy slammed into me, flinging me several meters backward. I landed hard near my sisters, who rushed to my side, their worry evident.

From where I lay, I could see Flashing standing over the star with a look of almost childlike wonder on his face.

“Oh yeah! Fwoom!” he exclaimed, leaping in excitement. “That was incredible! Woohoo! I’ve never felt anything so… so… powerful. Is this what they call a magic surge? I love it!”

As my sisters helped me to my hooves, Flashing grabbed the one remaining saddlebag that had been blown away in the earlier explosion. With careful precision, he levitated the star and placed it inside the bag with a calculated gesture.

“This changes everything… for the better,” he said with a malicious grin as he adjusted the bag on his back.

We stood in silence. Pinkamena’s expression had hardened to something resembling Limestone’s usual demeanor, while Maud, though quiet, bore a look of distrust and barely restrained intensity.

Flashing began to pace in front of us, his demeanor smug and taunting.

“You know,” he began nonchalantly, though his tone grew colder with every word, “I’ve got a golden opportunity here. And no earth pony is going to ruin it. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure we reach the finish line… even if I have to drag all of you there myself.”

I felt my legs tremble—not just from the hit but from the sheer helplessness of the situation. I couldn’t risk fighting back, not after seeing what he could do. If I failed and he decided to hurt my sisters… I’d never forgive myself.

“Echo…” Pinkamena whispered, her voice a mix of worry and barely contained fury.

“I know,” I replied softly, my voice barely audible. As much as I hated to admit it, we had no other choice. If I resisted and he lashed out, I couldn’t protect them.

“Fine,” I said at last, my voice heavy with resignation. “We’ll do as you say.”

Flashing smirked with smug satisfaction. “That’s more like it. Stick with me, and we’ll make it to the finish line. Just don’t get in my way.”

I bit my tongue to keep from responding, and my sisters exchanged glances before falling in line beside me. Pinkamena looked like she was ready to explode, while Maud remained unnervingly composed, but both stood firm.

As we trudged behind Flashing, each step felt like a blow to my pride.

“This isn’t over,” I thought, gritting my teeth.

For now, though, I was stuck. I had no choice but to keep moving and wait for the right moment to turn things around.

Flashing led the way, the map hovering before him in his magical grasp. The rest of us followed in silence, resigned to his brisk pace. Though we didn’t want to, we had no choice but to comply.

My mind kept replaying what had just happened.

That magical explosion… I couldn’t wrap my head around it. I knew almost nothing about magic—not even the basics. But what I did know was that what had just occurred was wild, chaotic, and completely out of control.

The question lingered: Where had the explosion come from? Was it the star? Or was it Flashing?

If the star had something to do with it, it had never caused a magical outburst before. It had just floated harmlessly, without launching shockwaves or flinging ponies into trees. But if it was Flashing… Didn’t he mention something about a “magic surge”? Maybe his magical capabilities had suddenly increased.

I wished I had read a book about unicorns or magic before all this.

My thoughts were interrupted by Flashing’s authoritative voice.

“Hurry up!” he barked. “The next trial has to be about laughter. Let’s just hope what happened earlier doesn’t mess up my final score.”

There he was again, speaking as if he knew exactly how these trials worked from the beginning. Why did it matter so much to him? What made all this so special in his eyes?

For a moment, I considered the possibility that this was just some standardized test designed to measure physical and mental skills. But Flashing treated it as something far grander, as if he were playing for a prize only he understood.

I shook my head and sighed. There was no point in worrying about his motivations now. What concerned me more was our lack of supplies. We’d lost the water to the golem and sacrificed almost all of our food to the rabbits. If we didn’t finish soon, this could become a very real problem.

We finally arrived at a sign painted in bold red letters:

"To face what lies ahead, a laugh is your best option."

I frowned as I read it. If Flashing was right about this being the trial of laughter, the message seemed to fit perfectly. It probably meant facing fear with humor.

Before us, the landscape changed abruptly. The fantasy forest gave way to a darker, more sinister one. Twisted, dry trees lined the path, while thick gray clouds blanketed the sky, snuffing out any trace of light.

Without hesitation, Flashing strode forward, his steps firm and confident. He didn’t even glance back at us as he exclaimed, “Let’s go.”

As we ventured into the eerie forest, my mind kept spinning. After much deliberation, I decided to try talking to Flashing.

“So…” I began cautiously, choosing my words carefully, “what do you plan to do after all this? I mean, with everything that’s happened.”

Flashing scoffed dismissively, as if my question was beneath him.

“When this is over,” he finally said without looking at me, “when I get what I came for, I won’t have to worry about you anymore. I plan to leave this awful place as soon as possible. You won’t have to see my face, and I won’t have to see yours. Everyone wins.”

His cold tone sent a shiver down my spine, but he continued before I could respond.

“When this is done,” he added with a mocking smile, “you can go back to your ridiculous lemonade stand. That’s as high as an earth pony like you can aspire to.”

A flash of anger coursed through me, but I took a deep breath. I couldn’t let his provocations get to me—not now.

“Ridiculous?” I said calmly, though my voice trembled slightly. “And what about you? Is all this just to feel superior to everyone else?”

Flashing stopped and turned his head slightly, but not enough to look at me directly.

“No,” he replied, his tone dripping with disdain. “This is to prove what I already know. That I’m better than any of you.”

He turned his gaze forward again, and in a low murmur, more to himself than anyone else, I heard him say, “Just like her… They’ll all see.”

Her? Was he talking about me?

Something clicked in my mind.

“Do you think I’m a…?” Before I could finish, a brilliant blue flash zipped in front of us at incredible speed, interrupting my question.

The burst of air tousled my mane, and we all froze in place. Even Flashing seemed caught off guard, his posture stiff as he scanned the surroundings for the source of the disturbance.

“What was that?” I asked quietly, though I didn’t expect an answer.

The forest, already unnerving, now felt even more charged with tension. The blue flash vanished as quickly as it had appeared, but its presence lingered in the air.

“Whatever it is,” Flashing said coldly, adjusting the saddlebag on his back, “we won’t let it slow us down. Let’s keep moving.”

My sisters and I exchanged glances but said nothing.

All of us, except Flashing, trotted cautiously. Every step was taken with extreme care, our eyes constantly scanning the surroundings for any sign of movement.

The wind rustled the hanging branches, some so brittle they seemed ready to snap at any moment. The creaking of the wood was omnipresent, as if the forest itself were breathing, alive in some unsettling way.

Suddenly, a stronger gust of wind enveloped us. Dry leaves spiraled around us before gathering ahead of the group.

Within seconds, the breeze coalesced into a luminous figure glowing with an ethereal blue light. The shimmering lights flickered and fused until they formed something tangible—a spectral being with sharp claws and an aura that sent chills down my spine.

My sisters and I instinctively stepped back.

In stark contrast, Flashing remained rooted in place, smirking arrogantly as he let out a faint laugh.

“Cowards. Have you already forgotten that this is just a trial? It’s just an illusion meant to scare us. Nothing more.”

The specter, as if responding to Flashing’s implied challenge, raised one of its claws, ready to strike.

My mind told me he was probably right, that it was just another illusion, but my instincts refused to take the risk. Without thinking, I lunged at him, pushing him out of the way just as the claw descended. We both tumbled to the ground, barely avoiding the attack.

“What the hell are you doing?” Flashing growled, leaping to his hooves and shoving me roughly to the side.

“I just saved your life, idiot!” I snapped back, pointing to the tree behind us. Deep, perfectly aligned gouges made it clear that the attack was anything but an illusion.

Flashing turned his head, his angry expression quickly morphing into one of surprise.

The specter roared, raising its claws once more. This time, it wasn’t going to stop.

I leapt aside just in time, watching as the specter’s claws slashed through the ground, leaving a deep trench where I had stood only moments ago.

“They’re real!” I shouted, panic dripping from my voice. And in my mind, I added, “They’re so damn real!”

Flashing, finally grasping the danger, turned to us. “Run!” he commanded, taking the lead as the specter roared behind us, pursuing with renewed fury.

We ran as fast as our legs would carry us. My heart pounded wildly, each breath a painful reminder of the threat looming just behind us.

“What the hell is this?! Real specters in a test for foals? They’re insane!” I thought, my growing resentment aimed at whoever orchestrated these trials.

The path we followed twisted and turned between gnarled trees. But just as I thought things couldn’t get worse, Flashing came to a sudden stop, causing all of us to crash into him in a chaotic pile.

“Why did you stop?!” I shouted, recovering from the collision.

He didn’t need to answer. Standing before us was a new nightmare: a headless pony, blue flames dancing where its skull should have been. Its mere presence made the air feel heavy, each step it took resonating like thunder.

“Not that way!” I yelled as we turned and bolted in a new direction, away from the fiery specter.

But there was no reprieve. As we ran, other figures began to emerge from the forest. Pony skeletons, their movements stiff and their hollow eyes glowing with an unnatural light, rose from the ground itself, joining the chase.

“This is a far cry from bandaging adorable little bunnies!” I shouted, trying to inject some humor into a situation that absolutely didn’t deserve it.

In the chaos, Maud stumbled over a root jutting from the ground, falling hard to her side.

“Maud!” I yelled, skidding to a stop. Pinkamena turned too, rushing to help our older sister to her hooves.

The clawed specter was already upon them. My mind blanked with panic.

Without thinking, I sprinted toward them, throwing myself forward to shove them both out of the way just as the specter’s claw came down. We tumbled through a pile of dry leaves but were unharmed.

“Thank you, Echo!” Pinkamena said, her voice trembling but steady. Maud simply nodded, her impassive expression unchanged, though her eyes betrayed a flicker of gratitude.

“Don’t stop! Run!” I shouted, helping them to their hooves as the sounds of the specters and skeletons grew louder around us.

We kept running but soon found ourselves facing another obstacle.

Ahead of us stood a rickety suspension bridge stretching across a deep ravine. Behind us, the headless pony led the horde, the sound of its hooves echoing ever closer.

“We have to cross!” I yelled, but my legs froze. The bridge looked so fragile that one wrong step might be the end of us.

Flashing, however, didn’t hesitate for a moment. He dashed onto the bridge and turned to glare at us.

“Hurry up, you useless lot! What are you waiting for? Move!”

I knew he was right, but my legs remained locked. What if the bridge collapsed? What if I didn’t make it across in time?

“Echo, come on!” Pinkamena’s voice cut through my hesitation.

Taking a deep breath, I stepped onto the bridge. It creaked under my weight but held. One by one, we crossed, the specters gathering at the edge of the ravine, their unearthly cries filling the air.

When we finally reached the other side, the bridge gave way, collapsing into the abyss with a resounding crash.

We stood there, panting, watching as the specters stared at us from the opposite edge, unable to follow.

As usual, Flashing showed neither relief nor gratitude.

“That was pathetic,” he said, adjusting the saddlebag on his back. “Next time, don’t expect me to wait for you.”

I glared at him, my anger boiling beneath the surface, but I said nothing.

Flashing brushed the dust from his coat with sharp, impatient movements, his expression a mix of irritation and urgency.

“Let’s hope this counts as ‘passing’ the trial,” he muttered irritably before turning toward the path. “Let’s keep moving.”

Echo stared at him in disbelief, my mind struggling to process what I had just heard.

“You can't be serious,” he exclaimed, stepping forward. “Those things weren't holograms or illusions! They almost killed us! And you just want to keep going like nothing happened?”

Flashing stopped and slowly turned, his eyes glinting with a cold, calculated intensity.

“There’s no going back,” he said firmly, as if it were the most logical conclusion in the world.

“And it’s clear we can’t keep going forward!” Echo shot back, feeling anger begin to boil over.

He placed a hoof against his forehead, trying to steady himself, before continuing: “Those things were real, Flashing. And if that was the trial of laughter—something that was anything but funny—who knows what’s waiting for us in the next ones? I’m not willing to risk it!”

“Oh, really? And what’s your brilliant plan?” Flashing sneered, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Should we jump off the cliff and magically fly back to the start?”

“No, of course not!” Echo shot back, his frustration bubbling over. “But we could look for an alternate route, move away from the main path. Maybe we can go around this place and get to town without dealing with these insane trials.”

Flashing scoffed, his contempt plain as day.

“That’s ridiculous. I know what needs to be done, so you’d better shut up and follow my lead.”

Echo clenched his eyes shut, letting out an internal groan that, despite his best efforts, escaped as an irritated chirp.

“Here we go again,” he muttered, opening his eyes to glare at Flashing. “Then enlighten us, oh great leader. If you knew this was the trial of laughter, why didn’t you warn us earlier? And what are the next trials, oh wise Flashing?”

For a moment, Flashing seemed ready to fire off another sharp retort, but instead, he hesitated. His expression shifted slightly, and with a more contemplative tone, he muttered:

“There weren’t supposed to be skeletons or headless ponies… just phantoms. Something’s wrong.”

Flashing’s words hung in the air, and Echo, along with his sisters, stared at him with visible confusion.

“What do you mean, ‘something’s wrong’?” Pinkamena asked, stepping closer.

Flashing rolled his eyes in annoyance. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is getting through the next trials: Honesty and Magic.”

Echo frowned, feeling a mix of frustration and curiosity swirl within him. Finally, he took a deep breath and spoke, his tone more measured.

“Could you stop for a moment and tell us everything? Look, Flashing, we’ve been running and facing these trials with you, but we still don’t know why this is so important to you. For us, it’s just academic and physical tests—nonsense. Maybe they have some educational or psychological purpose, but it’s not that big of a deal. Why is this so monumental to you?”

For the first time since this ordeal began, Flashing went completely still. His normally smug face darkened, and his jaw tightened.

“It’s not nonsense,” he murmured, his voice barely audible.

Flashing’s horn began to glow faintly, and the tension in the air grew palpable.

“You’d better learn to shut up for once,” he growled, his tone escalating to a shout that made Echo and his sisters take a step back.

Echo closed his eyes for a moment, exhaling before looking at him directly.

“Alright,” he said calmly. “Why don’t you explain it, then? If this is so important, tell us why.”

Flashing stared at him for a few seconds before extinguishing his magic. His expression shifted to something more calculated, as if weighing how much he should reveal.

“You want to know why it’s important?” he began, his voice quieter but laced with intensity. “Fine, I’ll tell you. Do you even have a clue how the world works, Echo? Of course not. You’re an earth pony. You don’t understand how things are in the higher circles.”

Echo narrowed his eyes but didn’t interrupt.

“In the upper class—politicians, wealthy merchants, nobles—information is power. Everyone is looking for any edge to climb the social ladder. And a while back, rumors about these trials started spreading.”

His eyes narrowed as he continued.

“These trials aren’t just about evaluating basic skills or setting educational standards. No. These trials bear Princess Celestia’s seal. And if she’s involved, it’s something far more significant than anyone can imagine.”

Flashing took a step closer, his tone turning colder.

“It’s rumored that these trials are being monitored directly by Princess Celestia herself. About a year ago, her personal student, Sunset Shimmer, vanished without a trace. No one knows what happened to her. And now, these trials have appeared all across Equestria. Don’t you see? They’re searching for her next protégé. A chance among thousands. And I won’t let you—or anything else—take it from me.”

A heavy silence fell over the group as Flashing’s words echoed in the air. The tension was palpable, as if the forest itself was holding its breath.

Flashing continued, his tone now quieter but brimming with a chilling confidence.

"Do you want to know why so many pegasi and unicorns appeared here, in this forgotten corner of Equestria?" Flashing began, taking another step forward. "It’s because, like me, they knew something you didn’t. Sure, they could have competed in their hometowns, in places full of resources and balanced competitions. But…" He let out a harsh laugh, "Rockville is different. This place, this insignificant town in Western Equestria, is entirely made up of earth ponies. Farmers. Completely ignorant about magic. A place where standing out is as easy as crushing the residents beneath our hooves. And with that, guaranteeing our victory in Celestia's eyes."

His smile widened, as if recalling something particularly satisfying.

"I’ll admit," he continued, "I didn’t expect other colts to have the same idea. But frankly, they were failures. They came unprepared, not understanding what was at stake. Why? Because they didn’t have the information I had. They were convinced by their parents. I, on the other hoof..."

He paused, raising his head with pride as his horn glimmered faintly.

"Each test in each town is different so, I obtained the information myself. Every detail. Every clue. I knew the answers to the written exam, so I did what was necessary: I memorized them, adapted them, used them. I practiced the obstacle course dozens of times, perfecting every jump and every movement. All while keeping my horn hidden, ensuring no one knew about my advantage. I even made sure my opponents... stumbled at just the right moment. Because no matter how fast you are, you can’t win if you can’t stay on your hooves."

Echo stared at him, his mind racing as he tried to comprehend the magnitude of what he was hearing.

"In the team phase," Flashing continued, "it was almost comical to watch how the other colts—especially the pegasi and unicorns—abandoned their chances to team up with their own kind. Tribalism in its purest form. Of course, that left me with only one option... to join you."

"Why didn’t you join the unicorns, then?" Pinkamena asked, her voice as sharp as a knife.

Echo, keeping his eyes on Flashing, answered before he could. "For the same reason you all came to Rockville. If he stood out as the best among us, he’d have a better chance of catching Celestia’s attention. It was a strategy, wasn’t it?"

Flashing let out a mocking laugh, placing a hoof against his chest. "Oh, so you’re not completely useless, Echo! Congratulations, one point for you."

Echo narrowed his eyes, ignoring the sarcasm. "And during the last team trial—the capture the flag challenge. When you stole the unicorn team’s flag."

Flashing smirked maliciously, his eyes gleaming with cruel satisfaction.

"Of course," he replied. "I faced three overconfident unicorns. And you know why? Because they were absolutely certain they were up against a simple earth pony. They didn’t bother using all their magic. They didn’t take me seriously. It was as easy as slipping between them and taking what was mine."

The group stood in silence, processing his words. But Flashing wasn’t finished. He stepped forward again, his eyes now fixed on Echo.

"Do you understand now? This isn’t just a series of trials to assess skills. This is my ticket. My chance to leave this forgotten hole and ascend to where I belong. I’ve worked harder than anyone. I’ve made decisions others wouldn’t dare to make. And I won’t let a bunch of useless earth ponies ruin what I’ve earned."

"Earned?" Echo’s voice was filled with frustration. "Is that how you see it? Cheating, lying, manipulating... and you think that makes you worthy of something greater?"

"Worthy?" Flashing leaned in closer, his face inches away. "Worthiness doesn’t matter when you’re at the top. Only the results matter. And I’m the only one here who understands that."

Flashing turned his gaze back to the path ahead, grabbing the map with his magic.

"Life is about making decisions," he declared, glancing at the rest of them out of the corner of his eye, his horn glowing faintly. "And I’m the most determined to achieve what I want."

Without another word, he continued forward, forcing the Pie siblings to follow.

moments ago:

In Rockville’s central plaza, a buzz of murmurs filled the air. A crowd of unicorns and pegasi, both adults and colts, gathered under the afternoon sun. Their expressions mixed concern and embarrassment, their forced smiles failing to hide their nervous glances. Nearby, a pile of hats and clothing—evidently discarded—stood like an improvised monument to their failed deception.

At the front, a wooden podium adorned with purple fabrics and golden ribbons stood at the center of the plaza. On it stood Princess Celestia herself, her imposing white figure radiating calm despite the evident tension on her face. With her wings folded and her horn faintly glowing, she massaged her forehead with her eyes closed, as if trying to contain growing frustration.

She finally opened her eyes and gazed at the crowd with a seriousness that silenced the murmurs instantly.

"Let me make this clear," she said in a firm voice that resonated like soft thunder in the air. "Did you move to Rockville, a remote village, solely to have your children participate in the trials taking place here? Did you do so intending to give them an advantage over others by pretending to be earth ponies?"

The silence that followed was heavy, so thick it could have been cut with a knife. The unicorns and pegasi exchanged nervous glances, while the original inhabitants of Rockville, gathered at the edges of the plaza, watched in disbelief.

"According to reports," Celestia continued, "we know exactly who you are and when you arrived. Therefore, I ask that you return to your true homes." She paused, her stern gaze sweeping across the crowd. "Now."

Her final words were not shouted, but they carried an authority that left no room for argument. The crowd of outsiders began dispersing immediately, retreating quickly and leaving behind the pile of hats and clothing.

Celestia exhaled deeply, stepping down from the podium with innate grace. Beside her, Kibitz, her faithful assistant, waited with an expression that was a mixture of concern and professionalism.

"I want security doubled," Celestia ordered as she approached him. "Check every possible leak of information and ensure the data collected from these trials is thoroughly analyzed. We cannot allow the results to be compromised by these irregularities."

"At once, Your Highness," Kibitz responded, diligently jotting down her orders on his scroll.

Celestia massaged her temple again, her expression darkening. "This entire issue has taken more time than expected. I haven't been able to oversee the chosen participants for the next phase, and now, I can't fully trust the results. I need to know what has been happening while I was occupied here."

Kibitz handed a sealed scroll to a royal guard, who took it with his wings and, after a quick salute, galloped off to carry out the order.

"You will have the reports soon, my princess," Kibitz said, adjusting his glasses. "However, there is something of extreme importance you must know."

Celestia raised an eyebrow, alert. "What is it?"

Kibitz took a deep breath before speaking. "Everything was going well, especially with one participant who stood out from the first stage. But during the third trial, the Trial of Kindness, something happened. The trial was interrupted halfway through, leaving the result inconclusive."

Celestia frowned. "What do you mean 'interrupted'? Were they unable to complete it?"

"It wasn’t by choice," Kibitz explained. "They were interrupted by an external force, which caused us to lose sight of them entirely. They’ve been off our radar ever since."

Celestia’s gaze hardened. "That’s troubling news… they could be in danger."

Before she could continue, a distant boom echoed through the air.

A powerful wave of magical energy swept through the plaza, accompanied by a gust of wind that made the ground tremble. Celestia reacted instantly, creating a protective bubble that enveloped the nearby ponies, dissipating most of the force.

As quickly as it came, the energy subsided, leaving an eerie silence behind.

"Guards," Celestia commanded firmly, "make sure everyone is okay. This might have only been a ripple, but I want immediate confirmation."

As the guards began to mobilize, Celestia turned to Kibitz, her face marked with concern.

"That magical energy came from the forest," she said quietly, almost to herself. "Rockville is known for its scarcity of magic. We even had to import magical crystals to conduct these trials. This is not normal."

Suddenly, something clicked in her mind.

"The forest…" she whispered. "The location of the trials."

Without wasting another moment, she spread her wings and rose a few meters into the air. Her voice echoed like a divine command:

"Ensure order is maintained and everyone’s safety is secured. I will return shortly."

Without waiting for a response, Celestia soared toward the forest, her silhouette stark against the sky.

"My little ponies," she murmured to herself as she sped up, the wind whipping through her ethereal mane. "They may be in grave danger."

Author's Note

After the explosion, everything happened so suddenly and blindingly that Echo is left uncertain about its cause—whether it was due to the Star or Flashing's magic.

The group proceeds to the Trial of Laughter, though it is anything but amusing. The earlier explosion altered the trial’s intended illusions, transforming them into tangible specters that posed real threats. They narrowly escape by crossing a bridge, which collapses the moment they reach the other side.

Tensions run high as Echo and Flashing argue. During the heated exchange, Flashing reveals the true purpose of the trials: Celestia is searching for her next personal protégé following the departure of her previous one.

Flashing also unveils why so many foals from other tribes infiltrated Rockville—a town traditionally populated solely by earth ponies. They did so to stand out among other participants, encouraged or even forced by parents, merchants, politicians, and nobles with their own ambitions. Flashing, however, is the exception; it was entirely his idea. Unlike the others, he meticulously prepared for the trials, gathering every piece of information he could to gain an advantage.

With the bridge destroyed, the group has no choice but to press forward, despite growing unease about the escalating danger of the upcoming trials.

Meanwhile, when the explosion occurred, Celestia was occupied dealing with nobles who had infiltrated Rockville for their personal gain. The magical shockwave diverted her attention, and she immediately set out for the forest, heading toward the foals at the center of the explosion’s origin.

Fun Facts:

Sunset Shimmer receives a brief mention, affirming her canonical existence in this storyline.

The ambiguity surrounding the explosion’s cause is intentional. The chaotic moment was overwhelming, with blinding light, high tension, and a unicorn actively using magic. It’s understandable that Echo wouldn’t have absolute clarity about what happened.

Flashing's dominance over Echo has multiple layers. Flashing is older (10 years old compared to Echo’s nearly 7), has had access to elite magical tutors, and possesses considerable confidence. Echo, by contrast, has never encountered such magic before, putting him at a disadvantage.

Regarding the intelligent rabbits, it’s consistent with Equestria’s whimsical nature. If dragons can snack on gems and animals can converse with ponies, A spiteful rabbit doesn't seem out of place.

Notes:

I’ve ensured the ambiguity surrounding the explosion serves the narrative. This keeps the tension alive while emphasizing Echo’s limited understanding of magic. Besides being convenient for future narrative.

About the matter of earth ponies and their magic, it's complicated, yes? There were not many magical cases seen with terrestrials beyond super strength, but they may be isolated cases such as the ability to speak with animals, and those who had the strength were farm workers and it would make sense for them to be strong. Furthermore, with Tirek absorbing the magic of the earth ponies, we can say that magic itself is a source of life, and, therefore, everyone has it. In this case of this story, Yes, they have a physical increase, but nothing remarkable enough to build a house just because, without training. I like to think that what makes earth ponies special is their determination.

Don't overthink it, I'm just trying to do my best to make everything fit together for a better story. I'm doing what I can.

Thanks for reading!

Chapter 24: Echoes of doubt part 9 - The spark in the dark

The sky was gray, as if even the weather shared the weight of the moment. A cold breeze swept through the cemetery, carrying dry leaves that crunched under the feet of the funeral attendees. Everyone was gathered around Anthony’s grave, fresh flowers barely compensating for the sense of emptiness that filled the air.

Felix stood apart from the main group, his hands in his pockets, his gaze fixed on the casket. His expression was a blank canvas, but his eyes betrayed a swirl of emotions he couldn’t process. Pain, guilt, anger... and something deeper he couldn’t name.

He looked up and observed the other members of his family, each dealing with the loss in their own way. His older brother, Robin, the academic, was unrecognizable. His slouched posture, graying hair, and worn face made him appear ten years older than he actually was. Though financially secure and notably successful in his career, something in his demeanor suggested the years had not been kind. He seemed absent, physically present but mentally trapped somewhere far away.

Then there was his sister, Amanda, the famous artist. She had always been the center of attention at family gatherings, always radiant and charismatic. But today, even behind her dark sunglasses, she couldn’t hide the deep shadows under her eyes. Her movements were tense, cautious, as if every gesture was a carefully rehearsed choreography to avoid the flash of cameras. Paparazzi lurked nearby, even here, and her face was a constant mask of worry. Felix noticed how her hands trembled slightly as she held a bouquet of flowers, and how her furtive glances revealed a fear of making a misstep that might tarnish her reputation.

And then there were his parents. Felix had hoped to find some solace in them, something to ease the pain consuming him inside, but what he received was the opposite. Their words and attitudes toward him had been cruel, almost ruthless, as if they wanted to pin the blame for what had happened squarely on him. Though they never said it outright, the disapproving looks, the heavy sighs laden with reproach, and the indirect comments were more than enough to make him feel like a stranger within his own family.

“If only you had been more present...” his mother murmured at one point, without even meeting his eyes.

Those words felt like a dagger to Felix, but he didn’t respond. He knew anything he said would be pointless. His father, for his part, simply ignored him, as if Felix didn’t even deserve his attention. The void in their interactions was even more painful than his mother’s words.

The priest began to speak, offering words of comfort and recalling Anthony’s achievements and life. But to Felix, it all sounded distant, like an echo bouncing around his mind without settling. His thoughts were trapped in memories: the last time he saw Anthony, the shared jokes, the moments when everything between them seemed fine. And also the silences, the things they never said.

He looked around again. Everyone was mourning Anthony, but each seemed to be carrying their own internal battles. The family now felt like a collection of mismatched pieces, each trying and failing to fit together. Felix felt a lump in his throat as he realized how much everyone had changed, how much everything had changed.

Anthony’s funeral continued, enveloped in solemn silence, broken only by the murmur of the wind and isolated sobs. Felix stood a few steps away, feeling each word from the priest or Anthony’s friends pierce his chest over and over again.

Then came the goodbyes. Family members, friends, acquaintances… one by one approached the casket, leaving flowers or offering words of comfort.

“Anthony passed away happy,” said a distant uncle with a firm voice, placing a heavy hand on Felix’s shoulder as if that was enough to console him. “He always said it, didn’t he? How proud he was of everything he achieved. A famous player, loved by everyone. He lived the dream so many wish for.”

Felix nodded slowly, saying nothing. But as the uncle walked away, his jaw tightened, and he clenched his fist until his knuckles turned white.

Another spoke, one of Anthony’s old coaches, his voice rough but emotional:

“I always said he was the best. Not just because of his talent, but because of his dedication. He loved this. Football was his life. He left us a true champion.”

Felix felt the weight of those words hit him like a punch to the gut. His jaw clenched even harder, as if that could contain the words boiling inside him. It’s not true, he wanted to scream, but instead, he just lowered his head, staring at the ground.

"Anthony was happy. He achieved everything anyone could ever want," added his mother in a broken voice, but without tears. It was as if she were reciting a rehearsed script. She turned to Felix, searching for his approval, but all he did was dig his nails into his palm until a sharp pain shot through his hand.

"He passed away in peace," someone else murmured softly.

Felix couldn't take it anymore. His breathing grew heavy, his shoulders trembling slightly, though no one seemed to notice. They kept repeating the same thing, like a relentless chorus of a lie that gnawed at him from within: that Anthony had been happy, that he'd lived a fulfilled life.

He wasn't happy.

Felix knew it. He'd seen it. He'd heard it. Every conversation, every awkward silence, every distant gaze Anthony shared with him screamed the opposite. Behind the applause and the headlines, behind the interviews and the photos, was a man trapped in a life he hadn't chosen, in a role he never wanted to play.

Anthony was more than just a football player. He hated being defined solely by the sport, by a "success" that felt hollow to him. He despised the expectations, the labels, the weight of an image that wasn't his.

Felix closed his eyes, feeling a burning sensation behind his eyelids. He clenched his teeth so hard that his jaw ached. Each word he heard was another nail in a truth no one wanted to face: Anthony had left this world alone, and he hadn’t been happy.

Slowly, the crowd began to disperse. Felix remained in place, motionless, until the last relative and acquaintance had left. The cemetery returned to silence, broken only by the whisper of the wind through the leaves.

Felix stepped toward the grave and leaned slightly, staring at the flowers and the freshly placed headstone. For a long moment, he said nothing. Then, in a voice cracked and almost inaudible, he murmured:

"You were more than what they say, Anthony..."

A lump rose in his throat, and for a moment, he thought he wouldn't be able to bear it any longer. He looked up at the gray sky, searching for answers that wouldn’t come.

"I wish you could have told them yourself... I wish you could have done what you truly wanted."

He let out a shaky sigh and ran a hand over his face, trying to wipe away the tears that threatened to fall. Finally, he straightened up and took a few steps back. The wind blew cold and biting, but Felix barely felt it.

He was the last to leave, the last to say goodbye. And as he walked slowly along the stone path of the cemetery, one thought kept repeating in his mind, like an echo he couldn't silence:

You couldn’t be happy...

Years Later

Time had done little to calm Felix’s internal turbulence. The shadow of Anthony and the decisions he never made continued to haunt him, like a silent ghost whispering in his ear every time he faced a crossroads.

His life had become a series of disconnected leaps, jobs that barely lasted long enough for him to learn their routines. Carpenter, library assistant, office aide, delivery driver… The list was endless, and with every job he left, he felt like he left a piece of himself behind.

In his tiny apartment, chaos reigned. Dominating an entire wall in the living room was his "decision tree," a monstrous collage of paper, scribbles, and lines connecting impossible points. It was larger, more complex, and messier than ever. Hundreds of sticky notes overlapped each other, scrawled with words and diagrams, many of them illegible. At its center, written in bold, faded letters, was his mantra:

"The good will always be the hardest, while the bad will always be the easiest."

A sentence he repeated over and over, like a mantra or a curse.

One day, while he tried to untangle yet another dilemma on his decision tree—a temp job at a mechanic’s shop or trying his luck at a nearby café—his phone rang. It was a group call from his siblings.

His older brother spoke first, his voice firm and steady, the kind that always made Felix feel like a lost child.

"Felix, there’s an opening at the university. An administrative position. It’s not complicated, pays well, and offers stability. You could start building something."

Then his sister spoke, her voice always sounding slightly distant, as if she were speaking through an invisible barrier.

"I have an opening at my studio. I need someone to help with exhibitions and inventory. It could be fun, right? You’ve always been good with creative stuff."

Both offers were tempting. Both arrived simultaneously, as if the universe was determined to test him once again. He couldn’t take both.

Felix hung up the call without answering. He collapsed onto the couch, his hands buried in his hair. The pressure was overwhelming. Anthony's voice echoed in his mind, his older brother smiling with that half-mocking smirk:

"Decisions aren’t that hard, Felix. The hard part is living with them."

Remembering that did more harm than good. He sprung up from the couch and began filling sheet after sheet with pros and cons for each option. Stability vs. Creativity. Money vs. Freedom. A secure future vs. Risk. He detailed everything, no matter how small—"Traffic on the commute," "Will need to dress formally."

Hours passed. The decision tree grew even larger, branching out until it consumed yet another section of the wall. His thoughts became increasingly frantic, the stress bubbling inside him like lava about to erupt.

"Damn it!" he finally shouted, his voice cracking and bouncing off the tiny apartment walls.

He collapsed onto the floor, his chest heaving, his pulse racing. The knot in his throat threatened to choke him until he closed his eyes and remembered something:

"If you feel crazy, just breathe a little"

Anthony's voice returned, softer this time, like a calming breeze. He’d said it so many times, with that effortless ease Felix had always envied.

Felix took a deep breath. Once. Twice. Three times.

"If it’s driving you crazy... just breathe a little" he whispered to himself, letting the air cool his racing thoughts.

With a slightly clearer mind, he sank back into the couch and turned on the TV. Flipping through channels, he accidentally landed on a cartoon channel. My Little Pony was on, an episode where Twilight Sparkle and Spike traveled through time, altering a crucial event and causing increasingly apocalyptic futures.

"Ironic," Felix muttered, glancing at the screen while his mind still churned over the offers.

The episode played in the background, but certain lines began filtering into his thoughts. Every action changed something; even the smallest decision could snowball into something impossible to undo.

By the time the episode ended, Felix wasn’t just letting it wash over him as background noise. He sat still, staring at the dim glow of the screen, lost in thought.

With a deep sigh, he stood up. Grabbing his backpack, he tossed in a water bottle and a change of clothes. He needed to get out. The apartment, with its monstrous decision tree and suffocating air, was closing in on him.

The park was his destination. Fresh air, trees, dirt under his hooves—no, his feet. He needed to walk, to think without the world screaming choices at him. Before stepping out the door, he glanced one last time at the chaos he was leaving behind.

"Deciding isn’t the end of the world, right?" he asked the empty room. The question felt so absurd that it almost made him laugh bitterly.

Then he closed the door behind him. The park awaited.

"Do you see it now?" said the eerie version of me, its voice dripping with a mix of mockery and reproach. Its eyes, hollow and fog-filled, seemed to pierce directly into my mind. "It was your indecision that killed you, your inability to choose a path. You died without ever figuring anything out."

"Y-you… Why are you showing me all this?" I stammered, my voice breaking somewhere between fear and anger. "Why throw this in my face now?"

"Ah, here’s the curious part," it replied, stepping closer, its movements mirroring mine with a twisted precision. "This isn’t my doing. You’re the one doing this to yourself."

I stared at it, confused.

"If only you’d chosen something before your end," it continued, its tone icy and cruel, "you wouldn’t have ended up sprawled on some lonely street. All… for a simple backpack."

"Stop it! Enough!" I tried to shout, but my voice came out more like a wail.

"Just imagine," it said, its shadowy brow furrowing darkly, "what could’ve been if you’d chosen a path from the start."

The void around me began to shift. The shadows dispersed, giving way to a familiar scene: gray walls, a tiled floor, rows of neatly arranged desks. It was an office.

I found myself sitting at a desk, my hands resting on a keyboard. I looked down at my fingers—human again. My breathing quickened as I abruptly stood up from the chair.

"Enough of these games!" I yelled into the air, the echo reverberating through the oppressive space. "This isn’t funny! I know this isn’t real!"

Footsteps echoed from outside the cubicle. A figure leaned around the edge.

"Yelling at God again?" said a familiar voice, laced with humor. "I get it, man. But maybe you should do it when no one’s around, huh? Sometimes, you’re sooo weird."

My heart skipped a beat. "Anthony?" I whispered, incredulous.

There he was, holding a typical straw hat and a basket full of fruit.

"You’re not real," I said, taking a step back. "This isn’t real."

"What are you talking about?" Anthony replied, lifting the basket with a serene smile. "Of course I’m real. I grew these myself—took a lot of effort."

"This isn't real," I repeated, my voice trembling.

Suddenly, the omnipresent voice of my shadow shattered the moment:
"But it could have been."

"You again!" I shouted, spinning around to confront the darkness.

"If only you had made a decision from the beginning," the shadow continued, its tone now dripping with disdain, "maybe Anthony would have taken a different path. Maybe, seeing you determined, he would have been inspired to pursue his dreams years ago. In this scenario, he has his own farm. He's happy."

"Stop toying with this!" I tried to shout, but my voice cracked, heavy with emotion.

"Or perhaps," it pressed on mercilessly, "he would have been a security guard. Or maybe a royal guard at some theme park. But the important thing is, he could have been alive."

The mention of that word struck me like a dagger. Tears welled in my eyes, blurring the image of my brother in front of me.

"He could have been happy," the shadow added, its tone mocking my pain.

My knees buckled, and before I knew it, I was sitting back at the desk. Everything shifted again. The lights flickered, and a calendar on the wall flipped its pages frantically. Days turned into weeks, then into years.

When time finally stopped, I found myself in a dark office, lit only by the cold glow of a computer screen.

"But... would you have been happy?" the shadow asked, its voice soft yet cutting. "Trapped in a gray cubicle for the rest of your life?"

I stared at the screen in confusion, unable to answer.

"What if you'd chosen acting instead?"

The scene shifted once more. Now I was on a stage, surrounded by an audience staring at me with expectant eyes. The stage lights were blinding, and I could barely make out the silhouettes in the crowd.

Then came the boos. Jeers. Objects thrown at me from the audience.

"Living at the mercy of public opinion," the voice whispered, each word like a venomous dart. "Nothing guaranteed. Always a risk."

"Stop! STOP IT!" I screamed, my voice desperate. "This isn't real! I need to get back to my sisters!"

Everything around me began to distort, as though the void itself was trying to consume the scene. The stage crumbled, the audience vanished, and darkness enveloped me once more.

I looked down at my hooves. I was a pony again.

The voice returned, now almost melancholic.
"Your sisters? Do you want to know what's happening to them?"

I froze, my breathing heavy, my mind torn between fear and hope. Were they okay? What had happened to them?

"ECHO! ECHO, ANSWER ME!" Pinkamena screamed, her voice filled with desperation as she bit down on one of the thick roots encasing the cocoon where Echo was trapped.

"Hold on, we'll get you out," said Maud, her voice uncharacteristically urgent. She held a sharp rock in her hooves, striking furiously at the roots, trying to break through. But it was useless; the roots were too thick and strong, and every time she managed to break one, another would take its place.

"Don't worry, we're here for you, Echo," Pinkamena exclaimed with determination, pulling on a root with all her might.

The roots surrounding the cocoon seemed frenzied, moving erratically and spreading as though they were alive. They had a will of their own, and that will was focused on keeping Echo imprisoned.

Flashing watched the scene from a few meters away. His furrowed brow tried to mask the growing fear within him, but his eyes betrayed the truth: he was terrified.

He looked at the Pie sisters. Both were fighting desperately against the roots, pulling, biting, and striking, but the cocoon only grew denser with each passing second.

Flashing swallowed hard, his mind racing with panic as he imagined himself being the next victim of the forest’s wrath.

"We need to leave... now," he finally said, his voice trembling as he took a step back.

"WE CAN'T! Echo is still trapped!" Maud shouted through gritted teeth, her usually stoic face showing traces of anguish.

"IT DOESN'T MATTER!" Flashing yelled, his eyes darting wildly as the roots crept closer to him. "We have to escape before it's too late!"

"NO WAY!" Pinkamena yelled back, pulling at another root with every ounce of strength she had. "We can't leave him!"

"Flashing, help us!" Maud insisted, gripping the stone tightly as she continued to strike at the roots. "Maybe your magic can get him out."

Both sisters turned to him, their eyes pleading with a mix of hope and despair.

"Please, Flashing!" Pinkamena cried, her eyes glistening with tears. "He's our little brother... we can't lose him."

Flashing froze for a moment. Pinkamena's words left him motionless—not out of compassion, but because of the overwhelming fear he felt as he watched the roots grow ever closer. His eyes widened as one of the roots wrapped around his hind leg.

With a powerful jerk, he freed himself, but the panic had already consumed him.

"You're... you're on your own," he stammered, before turning and running.

He ran as fast as he could, not daring to look back, his breath ragged and his mind clouded with fear. But his escape was short-lived.

Suddenly, thick roots burst from the ground and coiled around his hind legs, yanking him to the ground. Flashing fought with all his might, but more roots emerged, pinning him down with unrelenting pressure.

“Let me go! I’m better than all of you!” he shouted, but the roots ignored his words and immobilized him completely.

Meanwhile, Maud and Pinkamena continued to fight desperately against the roots that encased Echo. But the forest seemed determined to keep him trapped. The roots began to snake around them as well, first gripping their hooves, then climbing up their bodies.

“No! Let me go!” Pinkamena screamed, reaching for the cocoon of roots with her outstretched hoof. She managed to tear one away, but another quickly wrapped around her hoof, immobilizing her. When she tried to shout again, another root extended and covered her mouth, silencing her.

Maud resisted with all her strength, crawling toward the cocoon where Echo was imprisoned. But the roots were relentless, holding her down until they finally immobilized her completely.

Before she was entirely engulfed, Maud managed to utter her last words:

“Echo! Don’t you—”

But her voice was cut off as another root covered her mouth, leaving an eerie silence in the air.

The cocoon encasing Echo continued to grow, its surface pulsating as if it had a heartbeat of its own. The entire forest seemed alive, and its focus was wholly fixed on its prey.

And then, there was only the sound of the roots shifting, the oppressive, dark forest swallowing every trace of light and hope.

The screen before me filled with dark, writhing roots, twisting and curling until they covered everything and finally faded away. The dark void enveloped me once more, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the echo of what I had just witnessed.

My eyes remained fixed on nothingness, unable to process what had just happened. My mind replayed the scene over and over: my sisters, trapped, desperately fighting against something unstoppable.

“No…” I murmured, my voice barely a whisper, heavy with defeat.

The shadow reappeared before me, its sharp and mocking silhouette looming over me “And do you know what’s most amusing about all this?” it said, its tone dripping with contempt. “It’s all your fault.”

“…No… no… no,” I repeated, my voice breaking as the weight of those words crushed me further and further.

The shadow leaned closer, its misty eyes boring into mine. After a long silence, it spoke with a disturbingly calm voice:

“I’d love to keep playing this game, but I think it’s time to end it. It’s a shame, but everything has its conclusion.”

Beneath me, the void began to stir. Long, dark roots emerged from the depths, moving like claws seeking to ensnare me. They wrapped around my legs, pulling me down with unyielding force.

I closed my eyes, letting them drag me under.

“This is it,” I thought. “Trapped, alone, sinking into the void.”

But then, something shattered the darkness.

“ECHO! DON’T GIVE UP!”

A voice rang through the void, clear and desperate. I opened my eyes wide, my heart pounding.

“Maud?” I whispered, my mind struggling to believe what I’d heard.

Another voice joined in, full of determination.

“Echo, you always find a way! Today won’t be any different. Don’t give up!”

“Pinkamena?” I repeated, my voice trembling with disbelief.

My sisters. They were still there. Still fighting.

“Why?” I thought, tears threatening to spill. “Why do they keep trying to save me? Why don’t they run? They have a chance to escape… Why won’t they leave me behind?”

But then, a more important question arose in my mind:

“Why am I giving up?”

The void around me began to shift. The direction of my fall turned horizontal, and I felt solid ground beneath my hooves for the first time.

I took a deep breath and took a firm step forward, the most determined step of my life.

“It’s all about decisions, isn’t it?” I thought, the echoes of my sisters’ words filling my mind. “It always has been. I’ve never been able to reach a conclusion before, but now I know.”

With every ounce of strength I could muster, I tore the roots binding me and took another step forward.

The roots tightened, trying to pull me back, but I didn’t stop. I took another step.

“I’VE DECIDED NOT TO GIVE UP!” I shouted, my voice reverberating with a force I had never felt before.

The roots multiplied, wrapping around me even tighter, pulling with all their might.

“Why persist?” the entity asked, its voice grave and dripping with disdain. “You’re trapped in the same cycle that’s tormented you your entire life. You try to move forward, but you never get anywhere.”

I smiled despite the pain and effort “Because I’m one stubborn bastard,” I replied, my voice steady and defiant.

I kept speaking, my voice filled with determination.

"That’s what I really am—a stubborn fool. I’m stubborn about finding the best option. I’m stubborn about finding the best path and decision. I’m stubborn about finding the answer, even if I have to dig deep into my memory to recall a specific page of a specific cave book to find the solution to escape. I’ll do it because I’m a stubborn idiot."

The entity unleashed a swarm of roots toward me, each one thicker and stronger than the last. "No matter how hard you try," it said, its voice darkening. "You don’t belong in this world. You didn’t belong in the last one. You’re an anomaly, a mistake of the universe."

I stopped for a moment. Its words pierced through me like blades, echoing my deepest insecurities.

"What if it’s right?" I thought, feeling the roots tighten their grip even more.

But before I could sink back into despair, something shifted.

A soft touch grazed my hoof. I looked down and saw a long, green blade of grass brushing against me. I lifted my gaze and saw more grass stretching out before me.

The void began to recede, revealing a familiar scene: a hill bathed in moonlight. And there, at the top, I could see myself with my father, the stars shining brightly above us.

The memory filled me with warmth, spreading through my body like a comforting wave. Inspired, I took firm steps forward. The roots tried to hold me back, but their strength was no longer the same. Every time they pulled me back, I recovered more quickly.

"They won’t stop me," I murmured, my determination growing.

Step by step, I moved toward the scene. The grass beneath my hooves became more abundant, more real. The roots continued to try to ensnare me, but now I was stronger.

For the first time, I felt like I was truly moving forward.

As I approached the hill, the conversation I once had with my father began to resonate in the air, like an echo from a corner of my memory.

“You shouldn’t worry so much,” my father said in his calm tone. “You’re still young. You have plenty of time to figure it out.”

“But what if I never find it?” I murmured back then. “What if the years pass and I still don’t know what I want to do with my life?”

“If that moment comes,” my father replied with calm certainty, “then keep moving forward. One step at a time, Echo. Sometimes, you don’t need to know the destination to walk the path.”

His words resonated deeply within me, igniting a forgotten strength. Each phrase was a push, a reminder of who I was and what I could be.

Despite the roots trying to drag me back, I kept advancing. Each step felt firmer, more confident. One step at a time.

The conversation played out clearly in front of me.

“What I’m trying to tell you, Echo, is that you’re capable of much more than you think. Whatever decision you make in the future, I know you’ll achieve it. From a young age, you’ve shown persistence, determination… and yes, a bit of stubbornness. But that stubbornness is what helps you overcome challenges.”

Stubbornness. My stubbornness. I smiled slightly as I took another step, tearing myself free from the roots that held me. Each step brought me closer to the hill, to that moment calling me from the distance.

In the memory, my father stood and placed his hoof on my head.

“Echo, no matter what happens, you’ll always have my support and a place here. Don’t forget that.”

I watched as my father turned in the memory, but then something changed. He stopped, turning back again, and his eyes didn’t look at the Echo of the past—they looked at me.

He didn’t seem surprised. His eyes were filled with understanding, as if he knew exactly who I was and what I was facing.

With a soft, reassuring smile, he spoke: “Echo, Felix, it doesn’t matter where you came from before. You’re a true Pie. You’re not alone now, and you never were before. And no matter what path you take or what world you’re in, you’ll never be alone. Because we’re family.”

My eyes widened in amazement. This… this hadn’t happened before. This wasn’t a memory. It was something else, something different.

I blinked, trying to process it.

“Come on, don’t waste time,” my father continued with his characteristic calm. “Do it, Echo. I know you can.”

It didn’t matter if it was a memory, a vision, or something beyond my understanding. What mattered was that he was right. I could do this.

More inspired than ever, I felt a surge of energy within me. The roots still tried to hold me back, but now I could not only take steps—I could run.

I pushed myself forward with all my strength, breaking through the last barriers until I reached the top of the hill. The wind caressed my face, and the moonlight stretched before me like an invitation.

Without hesitation, I took a great leap toward the moon.

As I ascended, the world seemed to slow. The moonlight was warm, comforting, and I reached out a hoof toward it, determined to touch it.

But just as I was about to touch it, the entity made its last, desperate move. A massive blade of roots emerged from the darkness, wrapping around me in a fierce grip and yanking me downward.

I fought with all my strength, but the roots were relentless, holding me like chains and dragging me back toward the void. I had only one hoof free, and I stretched it toward the moon, toward the light, as if it were my last hope.

"I can't give up now!" I shouted, my voice trembling with both determination and fear.

And then, something touched my hoof.

A hand.

I looked, stunned. It was Anthony's hand—my brother’s. His face was full of strength and conviction as he pulled me with everything he had.

“Come on, brother,” he said, his voice steady and full of life.

More voices joined his.

“ECHO!”

It was my sisters. I felt two more pairs of hooves grabbing hold of me, pulling me, freeing me little by little from the roots.

I looked around and saw more figures. My father, my mother, Limestone, Marble—my whole family was there, helping me, supporting me.

“We’ll always be here for you, Echo,” they said in unison.

With one final pull, I broke free from the entity’s grasp and surged toward the light. The darkness behind me disappeared, fading into nothingness.

I had done it. I had reached the light.

The forest was completely engulfed in chaos. Giant, twisted roots surged from the ground as if the forest itself had come alive, determined to consume us. It was a terrifying sight; it felt like the world had turned against us.

Flashing stood motionless, entirely ensnared by the roots. His earlier struggle had ceased, and now he lay bound in trembling silence. A few meters away, Maud and Pinkamena were still fighting fiercely, using their hooves and teeth to free themselves from the branches threatening to entangle them completely.

In front of them, the cocoon of roots that held me pulsed as if it had its own heartbeat, emitting a rhythmic and menacing sound. It was enormous, larger than a tree, and seemed impenetrable.

At that moment, all hope seemed lost. There was no one who could save us. We were alone in the midst of this chaos. But then, something changed.

From within the cocoon, a flash of pure white light pierced through the surface. At first, it flickered, but then it became a steady glow. The roots began to crack, breaking apart with deafening snaps.

Inside, a new force awakened within me. I didn’t know if it was my stubbornness, my memories, or the voices of my sisters, but something had stirred.

With a final explosion, the cocoon shattered into pieces.

The white light enveloped me as I leapt from the cocoon, sending fragments of roots flying in every direction. I landed firmly on the ground, my gaze determined and a sly grin on my face.

Maud and Pinkamena’s eyes widened, a mix of relief and astonishment on their faces.

"I’m back in the game!" I exclaimed with a teasing tone, savoring the moment.

The roots that had been holding my sisters began to weaken, losing their grip. With some effort, they managed to break free, finally liberating themselves.

Pinkamena was the first to react. Tears filled her eyes, and without a second thought, she dashed toward me. She leapt and wrapped her hooves around me in a tight hug.

“Little brother! I promise I won’t lose sight of you again. Your big sister will always protect you!” she said between sobs, nuzzling her cheek against mine.

Maud, though calmer, couldn’t resist hugging me too, letting out a small sigh of relief. “Echo, you had me very worried,” she said as she wrapped her hooves around me.

I hugged them both tightly. “I’m so glad you’re okay too,” I murmured, my voice filled with gratitude.

The embrace lasted a few seconds before I gently pulled back. There was still more to do.

“I’m glad we’re together again,” I said, looking around, “but this isn’t over yet. Even though the roots are weaker, they’re still growing. This isn’t finished.”

Pinkamena looked at me seriously. “What do you have in mind?”

I fell silent for a moment, organizing my thoughts and recalling every detail that might help us. “Hello, old friend,” I thought, imagining my decision tree with all the information I had gathered. Then, a crucial memory surfaced.

“Do you remember the first trial?” I began. “I found a crystal. It seemed to be the source of the entire trial.”

Maud nodded, her gaze growing more intense. “If we find the crystal here, we might be able to stop all of this.”

“Exactly!” I responded with enthusiasm.

The three of us nodded, aligning ourselves and ready to face whatever lay ahead.

“Roots… meet rock,” I said with a defiant smile, trying to lighten the mood before we sprang into action.

We moved quickly in different directions, dodging roots that tried to ensnare us once more.

The roots seemed more frantic, as if they knew we were close to unraveling their hold. We jumped, dodged, and struck at anything in our way, frantically searching for the crystal that sustained this chaos.

Finally, we found it—a gleaming crystal embedded in the ground, pulsing with a dark, chaotic energy. It was clearly the source of the roots. But before we could approach, the roots reacted, lunging at us with renewed ferocity.

"Look out!" I shouted as one of the roots lashed toward me, forcing me to jump back.

Maud managed to dodge a root aiming to ensnare her, moving swiftly toward the crystal. But just as she was about to reach it, a massive root shot out, striking the crystal and sending it flying out of her grasp.

"No!" Pinkamena cried, sprinting after the crystal as it tumbled across the ground.

The roots didn’t stop. They pushed and batted the crystal, driving it farther and farther away. It bounced, climbed up the trunk of a tree, and came to rest in the canopy—completely out of our reach.

We paused for a moment, panting as we watched the roots swirl around the tree, shielding the crystal.

We took a few steps back, our gazes filled with determination. We knew this wasn’t going to be easy, but failure wasn’t an option.

"Now what?" Pinkamena asked, her breathing heavy but her spirit unyielding.

"Now," I replied, locking my eyes on the crystal high in the tree, "we get it back. No matter what."

We braced ourselves for the final challenge, fully aware that we were about to confront the heart of the darkness itself.

As we charged toward the tree, I couldn’t help but yell with every ounce of confidence I had left: "Divide and conquer!"

Each of us approached from a different angle, attacking from multiple directions. All we needed was for one of us to reach the crystal. One was enough to win.

But the roots, as if they understood our plan, began to split as well, moving rapidly to intercept us.

I ran as fast as I could, dodging roots that lashed out like serpents intent on capturing me. One root shot straight at my face; I twisted my head just in time, feeling it graze my cheek, leaving a stinging mark. There was no time to dwell on the pain. I kept running, my focus unwavering.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t fast enough. A root caught one of my hind legs, yanking me upward and suspending me in the air.

From my position, I could see Pinkamena leaping gracefully between the roots, her body moving with precision and determination. She reached the trunk and began climbing, but just as she gained an advantage, a root coiled around her back and yanked her harshly into the air.

Maud, with her trademark calm, showed no hesitation. Her eyes stayed locked on the crystal, ignoring everything else. She dodged roots with sharp, calculated movements, her speed almost terrifying. When a root tried to block her path, she vaulted over it, using it as a springboard to propel herself toward the treetop. For a moment, it looked like she might succeed. But then, a thicker root caught her mid-air, wrapping around her and stopping her dead.

The roots held all three of us aloft, immobilized. They slowly drew us closer together, while more roots began to twist and writhe around us.

"Is this the end?" Pinkamena asked, her voice trembling with worry.

I let out a long breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. "What are you talking about, Pinkamena? Of course not. There are always options," I said, forcing as much confidence into my voice as I could muster to keep her spirits up.

But deep down, I didn’t want to admit it: we were trapped. We couldn’t move. If only I had magic, I thought, this would be a thousand times easier.

I scanned the area desperately, searching for something—anything—that could help us. My eyes landed on Flashing, still tangled up and completely motionless. If I had his magic...

I turned my gaze back to the tree, where the roots thrashed wildly around the crystal, as if guarding something sacred. It was a terrifying sight, but it also filled me with frustration. After everything we’d endured, after all the trials and that psychological torment in the cocoon… I couldn’t give up now.

I struggled against the roots holding me, thrashing with all my might. I stared directly at the mass of roots before us, my eyes blazing with defiance.

"If you’re going to finish me, do it now," I thought, challenging the forest itself.

And then, something changed.

The tree trunk began to crack. A deep, resonant sound filled the air, like the forest itself was roaring. The roots tensed, as if trying to contain something.

Suddenly, an internal explosion shook the tree, sending roots flying in every direction.

Instead of slamming us to the ground, we were lowered gently, as though some invisible force was protecting us. I felt the roots holding me disintegrate, freeing me completely.

At the center of it all, the crystal fell to the ground, intact but now devoid of the dark energy that had once surrounded it.

I looked up, my eyes momentarily blinded by the sunlight breaking through the canopy.

A silhouette formed against the sky—a pony, much larger than usual. Its wings flared gently as it descended with unmatched grace.

And then I saw it.

Wings… and a horn.

My heart stopped for a moment as the figure descended slowly, the sun shining brightly behind her. When she was close enough, I could see her clearly: a mare with a coat as white as snow, a long, gleaming horn, an ethereal mane flowing in an unseen breeze, and a crown resting elegantly atop her head.

My hooves trembled as recognition set in.

“It can’t be… or can it?” I whispered, my voice barely audible.

The alicorn landed with unmatched grace, her calm and serene gaze radiating both authority and warmth. Her soft smile was reassuring, as if her mere presence could lighten the weight of the situation.

“Celestia…” I murmured, barely able to process what I was seeing.

“I’m glad you’re safe, my little ponies,” she said, her voice as majestic as it was kind. She paused, her eyes sweeping over the forest, now littered with shattered wood yet eerily calm. “I believe we have much to discuss.”

Author's Note

Echo’s past, when he was Felix, is fully revealed in this chapter, showing the moment that shaped his lifelong indecision. He recalls the devastating consequences of choices left unmade and the way his brother Anthony passed away unhappy, even though others believed he was content. This memory haunts Echo, deepening his tendency to overanalyze every path and possibility.

The entity preys on these fears, showing Echo visions of what his life could have been if only he had been decisive from the start. It torments him with the image of a happy, alive Anthony—something Echo could never achieve.

The entity also gives Echo a glimpse of what’s happening outside the cocoon. His sisters, Pinkamena and Maud, are desperately trying to free him, begging Flashing for help. However, Flashing, paralyzed by fear, abandons them. His escape is short-lived, as the roots ensnare him, and they soon capture both Maud and Pinkamena as well.

Feeling utterly alone and hopeless, Echo allows himself to be consumed by the void. But just as the darkness begins to claim him, the voices of his sisters reach him. Their desperate cries stir something within him.

Finally, Echo makes a decision: he will not give up. For the first time, he pushes past his paralyzing doubts. With each step forward, he fights against the roots dragging him down.

A cherished memory with his father under the moonlight inspires him further. In a surreal moment, the conversation with his father shifts, as though the words are directed not at the Echo of the past, but at the Echo of the present.

Reinvigorated, Echo fights off the entity’s final assault. With the support of his family’s love and his own newfound resolve, he breaks free from the cocoon and steps into the light.

Reunited with Maud and Pinkamena, Echo and his sisters vow to destroy the roots once and for all. They locate the crystal fueling the trial, now lodged high in a tree. Despite their efforts, they are soon overwhelmed and captured again.

When all hope seems lost, Celestia arrives, using her magic to save them.

Fun Facts:

This chapter blends action and introspection, showing Echo’s internal and external battles.

The exaggerated nature of the trial is a reflection of the chaotic magic at play, fitting within the fantastical and unpredictable world of Equestria.

What happens when you put together: A crystal that amplifies the deepest part of the participants so that they will face them and you give it an overdose of wild magic overloads. And a subject with more years of life than he appears and with an existential crisis that he has carried throughout that time, remains unresolved and only increases his doubts over time.
It turns out that the test itself gets out of control, it begins to consume not only the participant who feeds it but also the others.

Notes:
This chapter is a turning point for Echo, where his inner turmoil comes to a head. The balance of chaos and personal growth lays the foundation for his journey toward self-discovery. Celestia’s timely arrival hints at her growing interest in Echo’s potential, setting the stage for future developments.

Chapter 25: Echoes of doubt Part 10 - What do you want to be…?

Celestia…

The ruler of all Equestria, the pony who is Earth, Pegasus, and Unicorn combined into one majestic being—a true Alicorn. The one who has lived hundreds, maybe thousands of years. She has faced threat after threat, probably possesses knowledge that spans eons, and commands respect with every step she takes.

And she’s standing right in front of me.

This is the equivalent of meeting God in this world.

"It brings me great relief to see that all of you are safe, my little ponies," said Celestia, her voice warm, her presence calming.

I shuddered.

She had saved us. She arrived just in time. One more minute, and we might not have made it.

But then my brain kicked into overdrive.

Wait. She has vast knowledge. I… I am an anomaly. Oh no. What if she realizes what I am? What if she thinks I’m some sort of parasite that hijacked this body like a symbiote, using knowledge from my past life? What if she sees me as a disruption to the universe’s balance? And if she does… what will she do to me? Disintegrate me with magical rainbow lasers? Banish me to the void?

Oh no, she’s totally going to exile me!

My entire body froze, and before I could stop myself, I blurted out in a rush, "Please don’t exile me! Don’t lock me in a dungeon for the rest of my life—or banish me and throw the dungeon where I’ve been banished! I’m completely innocent! I demand a fair trial in court!"

Celestia’s eyes widened in surprise. For a split second, her regal composure faltered, and then she smiled gently. "What an active imagination you have, little one. I assure you, I have no intention of doing any such thing. In fact, I should be the one apologizing. None of this should have happened."

I blinked.

She’s apologizing?

The ruler of Equestria, who saved our lives, is apologizing to us?

For a moment, I couldn’t process it. My jaw almost hit the ground.

But then something even more important hit me.

I was safe.

Oh, sweet stars, I wasn’t getting exiled! A wave of relief washed over me, and I let out a deep sigh I didn’t realize I’d been holding.

Celestia continued speaking, her voice tinged with sadness. "As I flew here, I observed that the trials had been affected by some kind of magical surge. A wild magic overload caused all of this. I’m truly sorry you had to endure such an ordeal."

Wild magic? A surge?

I mulled over her words. I really should’ve read more books about magic by now, but I could at least piece some things together. The chaotic explosion from earlier—it hadn’t just sent us flying. It must have disrupted the trials, causing this entire mess. For a brief moment, I was worried that such trials were even allowed for foals.

Wait a second. That explosion… whether it was caused by the star or Flashing—it reminded me of something.

I scanned the area. Flashing was slowly getting up, rubbing his head and groaning. He hadn’t noticed Celestia yet, nor that she had cleared the entire area of the twisted roots.

On the other side, though, I spotted the saddlebags. My star.

Like a moth to a flame, I moved towards it. Without hesitation, I picked up the star, slipped it back into the bag, and slung it over my back.

Finally, it was back where it belonged.

But then my gaze shifted to Flashing.

“Flashing…” I muttered under my breath, narrowing my eyes.

He froze, finally realizing Celestia’s presence.

Okay, sure, he did all those horrible things, both physically and verbally. But… he’s just a kid. Kids are dumb sometimes. I could let it slide, right? Maybe if I just walked away, things wouldn’t escalate. I mean, reporting him to Celestia could make things worse.

...Did you think that’s what I’d actually do?

Of course not.

I took a deep breath, turned to Celestia, and let it all out in one rushed sentence. "Flashing is a unicorn who infiltrated Rockville to take advantage of the trials and stand out above everypony else! He already knew about the tests beforehand and even attacked me and my sisters, both physically and emotionally!" I pointed a hoof directly at him, my voice trembling with righteous fury.

All eyes turned to Flashing.

"WHAT?!" Flashing shouted, finally snapping out of his daze. He stammered, his voice cracking under the pressure. "Th-those are lies! Lies, I tell you!"

The silence that followed was deafening.

Everypony stared at him.

At his horn, which stood out like a beacon of guilt.

The sound of Flashing gulping nervously could be heard loud and clear.

Maud, ever the calm one, stated, "It’s true."

Pinkamena nodded in agreement, her eyes glaring at Flashing with uncharacteristic seriousness.

Flashing looked between us and Celestia, his composure crumbling with every passing second. He opened his mouth to speak but quickly closed it, realizing there was nothing he could say to save himself now.

I stood there, chest puffed out in defiance, as I prepared to see where this would lead.

Today, justice wasn’t just served. It was delivered.

Celestia approached Flashing slowly, her steps calm and deliberate, carrying no hint of aggression—just an air of quiet authority.

Her gaze swept over him from head to hoof, and I could see the tension radiating off Flashing. His ears pinned back, his legs trembled ever so slightly.

"You must be Flashing Blow," Celestia said, her voice calm but firm. "We’ve conducted a thorough review of recent relocations to Rockville, as well as a deeper investigation into certain irregularities. What we’ve found, Flashing, is that both you and your parents are in serious trouble."

Flashing’s eyes widened in panic, his ears flicking nervously. "B-but—"

She continued, unyielding. "Flashing, despite your earlier conduct, you were selected for this stage because of your outstanding results in the preliminary trials. However, given the recent revelations, it’s clear we were mistaken about you. Aggressive behavior—whether physical or verbal—will not be tolerated. Rest assured, we’ll have a serious discussion about this upon our return."

I watched as Flashing visibly swallowed the lump in his throat, his confidence utterly shattered.

I exhaled, releasing the tension that had gripped my entire body. Watching him squirm was oddly satisfying. Sure, he’s just a colt, and I doubt they’ll throw him in Tartarus or turn him into stone—punishments like that are way too extreme for somepony his age. But a long, miserable summer at some disciplinary institute? Now that feels about right.

Celestia turned to address us all, her expression softening. "We’ll discuss the details further later. For now, it is imperative that all of you be carefully examined."

She gave us a gentle nod, signaling for us to climb onto her back.

My sisters immediately climbed aboard with unwavering trust. Flashing hesitated for a moment, his head low, before begrudgingly following suit. Meanwhile, I stood rooted in place, staring at Celestia like she was a living legend—which, let’s be honest, she is.

Me? Riding on Princess Celestia’s back? I’d never, in all my lives, expected this.

I took a hesitant step forward, then another, before finally pulling myself onto her back.

Her wings unfurled with practiced grace, and with a powerful yet gentle beat, we ascended into the sky.

The wind rushed past my face, tousling my mane as the sun hung high above us, casting a warm golden glow over everything.

The sky.

It was always out of reach, always so far away from the grounded life I led. But now… now it was right here.

For a moment, I let myself revel in the surreal beauty of it all.

Then, inevitably, my thoughts began to wander.

Everything that’s happened.

I sighed, the weight of it pressing down on me. I used to long for something extraordinary in my life, even in my past life—a spark of wonder in the monotony. But these past few days? They’ve been pure chaos.

I couldn’t stop thinking about the roots, the capullo. The entity wasn’t entirely wrong. Pegasi, unicorns, magic—things I once thought impossible were now everywhere. And me? I’m just an Earth pony. Sure, I’m strong, but that’s it.

I clenched my jaw. I couldn’t beat any of them—not the pegasi, not the unicorns, not even the magic itself. A week ago, I’d never even seen a unicorn, and now I was expected to deal with egotistical magic users, vengeful rabbits, and roots that wanted to swallow me whole.

The entity in the capullo had whispered truths I didn’t want to hear. I’m no match for any of this. And if this is just the beginning… what happens next? What happens when I have to face an actual villain?

My chest tightened at the thought.

I looked around, my gaze drifting over the vast, fantastical landscape of Equestria below.

It’s easy to forget, amidst all the chaos, that this place is truly magical. A world where the extraordinary is ordinary, where fantasy is reality.

I shifted my gaze to Celestia.

Calm, composed, and radiating strength. She had defeated the roots so effortlessly. Where I had struggled and fought with everything I had, she had swooped in and saved us all—saved my sisters. And that mattered more than anything.

But me? I looked down at my hooves, feeling the weight of my inadequacy.

I must have been lost in thought longer than I realized because Celestia turned her head slightly, her wise eyes glancing back at me.

"You must be Echorellian Crumble Pie," she said, her voice carrying a kind warmth. "That’s a strong name."

I blinked, startled. "Just Echo is fine, Princess. My full name… it’s a bit long, don’t you think?"

She chuckled softly, the sound like a melody. "Perhaps. But there’s a certain charm to it. Every name tells a story, Echo. Do you know what yours means?"

I tilted my head, thinking. "Well… I guess my parents thought it was cute. Maybe because it has ‘ore’ in the middle, like rocks. Or maybe because ‘Echo’ reminds them of the sounds in caves. You know, echoes bouncing off stone walls."

She nodded, her eyes sparkling with understanding. "It does make sense. But echoes are more than that. They’re resilient. Even in the deepest darkness, they find their way, persisting until they’re heard. Don’t you think that sounds a little like you?"

Her words made me pause. I glanced up at her, unsure how to respond. "I… I don’t know. Maybe? It just feels like I’m wandering sometimes. Like I don’t know where this ‘echo’ is supposed to go. Every choice feels heavy, like I’m one wrong step away from messing everything up."

Celestia’s expression softened, her gaze filled with something that felt like understanding. "What matters is the courage to keep moving forward, even when you don’t know where the road will take you. And from what I've seen, you’re very good at finding your way, even in the toughest of situations."

"I just… try to figure things out. But no matter what I do, it feels like it’s never enough. There’s so much I don’t know, so much I can’t do. Like… magic. I’ll never have that."

Celestia tilted her head slightly, her gaze steady but kind. "Echo," she began, her voice soft and reassuring, "while I was flying over the forest to find you and your group, I saw the chaos that had taken root. The trials were altered, corrupted in ways they were never meant to be. The forest itself became a maze of danger. But amidst all of that, there was a light—a pure, brilliant light that cut through the darkness. That light is what guided me to you."

Her words froze me in place.

"The light…" I murmured, my eyes widening as realization began to dawn. "That was… me?"

I stared at her, stunned. The light she spoke of… it had to be when I escaped the suffocating prison of roots. The moment I refused to give up, no matter how hopeless it seemed.

I turned my gaze upward, letting my eyes drift toward the sky. The clouds rolled lazily across a sea of endless blue, the sun shining brighter than it had in days.

I slightly raised my front legs, to feel the wind, but quickly lowered them... it would be ridiculous, wouldn't it?

In the Rockville Town Hall, the largest room was thick with tension. Royal guards stood vigilantly at the doors, ensuring no curious onlookers could approach. At the center, a smooth stone roundtable brought together several key ponies: Harshwhinny, the test supervisor; Kibitz, the princess’s personal assistant; Solid Stone, the town’s mayor; and several other officials. Presiding over the meeting with her characteristic majestic calm was Princess Celestia.

Kibitz adjusted his glasses and spoke first. “The foals who participated in the trials have been taken to the local hospital for evaluation and rest. For now, it seems they only suffered minor scratches and extreme exhaustion. They should return home soon.”

Celestia nodded with a slight sigh of relief. “Thank you for the report, Kibitz.”

Harshwhinny, noticeably unsettled, took the floor. “My deepest apologies, Princess Celestia. I never imagined something like this could happen during the trials.”

Mayor Solid Stone, a gray stallion with an embarrassed expression, added, “We deeply regret all the mishaps, Princess. We never suspected that the recent influx of residents was part of an attempt to cheat in the trials.”

Celestia raised a hoof, signaling for him to stop. “You are not at fault, Miss Harshwhinny, Mayor Solid Stone. Both of you have done excellent work overseeing the trials and providing crucial information about the information leaks. Your diligence is appreciated.”

Both ponies let out a sigh of relief.

Celestia looked around the room, ensuring she had everyone’s attention. “This event was completely unexpected. No one could have foreseen it.”

At that moment, a guard entered the room, handing a scroll to Kibitz. Using his magic, the assistant quickly examined it, his expression darkening as he read.

“Princess,” he began, adjusting his glasses again, “we’ve confirmed that the nearby unnamed forest—known locally as a calm, uneventful place with no significant magical presence—has experienced a… ‘wild magic awakening.’”

The atmosphere in the room grew heavier, with incredulous glances exchanged among the ponies.

“That… has only happened once… the Everfree Forest,,” murmured Celestia, her eyes reflecting concern.

Solid Stone, visibly alarmed, spoke in a low voice. “Our forest has always been ordinary, without anything unusual. How could something like this happen?”

Kibitz continued, “According to our preliminary analyses, there was a sudden and massive buildup of wild magic, though its origin remains unknown. This surge affected the crystals used for the trials, altering their properties and pushing them to dangerous levels far beyond their intended purpose.”

Celestia nodded thoughtfully. “This means the system designed for the trials became uncontrollable.”

“Precisely, Princess,” confirmed Kibitz. “Particularly in the penultimate trial, the Trial of Honesty. The crystal in that section reacted anomalously, amplifying its effects beyond what was intended. Here are the details collected by our experts and from witness accounts.”

The assistant passed the scroll to those present. As they read, their expressions shifted from surprise to concern. The silence that followed was almost tangible.

Finally, Celestia spoke, her tone serene yet resolute. “In that case, I believe it’s time to analyze the group of participants.”

Harshwhinny picked up a document from the pile in front of her and stood to read it. “Based on current evaluations, we have some important findings. Of the four participants in the final stage, one has been disqualified due to recent events: Flashing Blow.”

All eyes turned toward her as she continued. “Flashing Blow, a unicorn who infiltrated Rockville by moving here to gain an advantage over the local earth ponies, Despite his attitude, stood out in the trials with outstanding results. However, upon further investigation, we discovered that his performance was manipulated thanks to prior information leaks, which automatically disqualifies him.

Celestia lowered her head slightly, her expression a mix of sadness and disapproval.

Harshwhinny went on. “However, another participant has drawn our attention: Echorellian Crumble Pie.”

Celestia raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

“Echorellian Crumble Pie,” Harshwhinny continued, “is a member of the Pie family, a humble group of rock farmers in Rockville. He is the fifth sibling, a triplet alongside two sisters, and the youngest in the family.”

Celestia tilted her head slightly, her interest deepening.

“In the written test, he achieved one of the highest scores, answering nearly every question correctly and finishing before most of the other participants.”

Mayor Solid Stone interrupted, incredulous. “Nearly every question correct? Even with the impossible exam?”

Harshwhinny nodded. “The section where he struggled the most was on magic, as expected. However, despite living in a town with no access to magical knowledge, he achieved a surprising sixty-two percent accuracy.”

Murmurs filled the room.

“Sixty-two percent? Without access to magical information? That’s incredible,” one pony commented.

“It’s unheard of for an earth pony,” added another.

Celestia listened attentively, her expression shifting from curiosity to a mix of admiration and contemplation.

Harshwhinny continued. “Additionally, during the practical trials, he demonstrated remarkable adaptability and uncommon perseverance, even in situations that pushed the limits of what could be expected from a colt his age.”

Harshwhinny, ever meticulous, reviewed the evaluations while the ponies present listened attentively.

"During the team phase," she began, "an especially unfortunate event occurred. The foals from other tribes—pegasi and unicorns—banded together with members of their own tribes, leaving the local earth ponies at a significant disadvantage for all subsequent trials."

A murmur of disapproval rippled through the room.

"If only they knew that their behavior during the tests was more important than the results. They wouldn't do such things," Solid Stone said in a resigned and disapproving tone. "Although it worked for us as an opportunity to weed out applicants."

"In the final test of that phase," Harshwhinny continued, "the capture-the-flag challenge, the odds were completely stacked against Echorellian Crumble Pie’s team. His group was demoralized and practically defeated before the challenge even began. Yet, it was he who managed to uplift his team’s spirits and, against all odds, devised a plan."

Celestia tilted her head slightly, intrigued.

"Echorellian used the resources at his disposal with remarkable ingenuity," Harshwhinny explained. "He took the team vests we provided and crafted several decoy flags. This confused the other two teams, who had also allied to target the earth ponies first. Thanks to his strategy, the opponents took much longer to locate his team’s real flag. Although the round ended in a tie, Echorellian’s leadership and creativity stood out significantly."

A thoughtful silence followed her words.

Celestia finally broke the silence, her voice soft yet full of meaning. "It seems Echorellian Crumble Pie is even more exceptional than we imagined."

The room remained quiet for a few moments before Celestia spoke again. "It’s time to discuss what happened to him and his group during the final stage. What evaluations were recorded before they went off the grid in the third trial?"

Harshwhinny nodded, consulting her notes. "The most notable event before the disruption occurred in the first trial, the Trial of Loyalty. Apparently, it was Echorellian who discovered that the trial was an illusion. Not only did he notice it, but he also dispelled the illusion by taking the crystal powering it. Curiously, he carefully placed the crystal on the ground before moving on."

Celestia murmured, a faint smile gracing her lips. "So he was the one who did it."

Harshwhinny continued. "In the third stage, the Trial of Kindness, that’s when everything went out of control, and we lost sight of the group. We believe that was when… the incident occurred."

The atmosphere grew tense. The mention of the magical surges left everyone uneasy.

Celestia intervened, her tone more serious. "During my flight over the forest, I witnessed the havoc caused by that unleashed magic. I arrived just in time to rescue the foals from the roots that had trapped them. But what I saw before my arrival was alarming."

Harshwhinny nodded gravely. "Based on recent data, we can confirm something: that group faced the worst of the worst. The wild magic in the forest forced them to confront their deepest fears and personal darkness, pushing them to the limits of what a foal could endure."

The ponies exchanged looks filled with concern.

Kibitz adjusted his glasses and added, "According to reports, the epicenter of the magical concentration appeared to be centered on Echorellian. He bore the brunt of the darkness generated by the magical disturbance."

Harshwhinny’s voice wavered slightly as she continued. "I can’t fathom how an earth pony, without magic or special abilities, managed to endure something so devastating. According to the accounts, he not only broke free of that darkness but did so entirely on his own."

Mayor Solid Stone, incredulous, exclaimed, "Breaking free from something that extreme without magic? How is that even possible?"

"Mental strength," Harshwhinny said firmly. "The only plausible explanation is that Echorellian possesses an extraordinary level of resilience and determination. His mind endured something that even a trained adult would find unbearable."

Celestia remained pensive for a moment before speaking, her voice soft but imbued with authority. "Echorellian Crumble Pie not only demonstrated exceptional abilities during the trials but also revealed something far more valuable: an inner strength capable of withstanding the darkest adversities."

The silence in the room was filled with respect and awe. Everyone knew that Princess Celestia’s words were more than just recognition.

Celestia stood up and spread her wings, "Thank you for the work you did, I will be in charge of following up on the situation in the forest, but, for today, we should finish this" signaling the conclusion of the meeting for now. She still had one task left to accomplish that day.

The day had been an emotional whirlwind: surprises, disappointments, relief... and more questions than I could handle. Among those surprises was the fact that I had literally seen Princess Celestia in person.

At the local hospital, we were quickly checked over. Just a few scratches and exhaustion that seemed to drain every last drop of energy from my body. After some bandages, energy bars, water and answer questions, we were good to go. Our dad arrived to pick us up just before the sun set, wearing an expression of concern I didn’t often see.

As we trotted home, Pinkamena was glued to my side—almost too close. Her cheek, decorated with a pink bandage, pressed against mine, which bore a similar mark. I gently nudged her away to give myself some space, but while she stepped back slightly, she still walked very near.

I glanced at my sisters and smiled. They were safe. Without them, I don’t think I could’ve found the strength to break free from that cocoon.

I looked up at my dad. He walked silently, his face calm with the steady demeanor of a family leader. I observed him for a moment, remembering how his presence and our past conversation had anchored me when I needed it most.

I tilted my head thoughtfully. It was strange; I wouldn’t have been able to overcome that trial without their actions—without one small, seemingly insignificant moment.

When we finally reached the farm as the sun dipped below the horizon, Holder’s Boulder stood off to one side of the house, unchanged, like a symbol of constancy. Everything we had faced felt like a distant dream. If it weren’t for the bandages on our cheeks, anyone might think nothing had happened.

I sighed as my mind wandered back to Celestia. Having her in front of me had felt like standing in the presence of something beyond comprehension. I had so many questions I wanted to ask her, but at the crucial moment… I couldn’t say anything. By now, she was probably back in Canterlot while I returned to my routine: lemonade, blueprints, and my ever-growing decision tree.

When we arrived home, our older sisters greeted us at the door. Limestone, Marble, and Mom were there, embracing us in a warm and comforting welcome.

“We’re so relieved you’re okay,” Mom said, her voice heavy with relief. “We heard about what you had to face.”

“Are you really all right?” Marble asked, her eyes filled with concern.

“Of course,” I replied with a sly smile. “We’re basically made of rock; we’re tough to crack.”

Instead of prompting laughter, my comment was met with intrigued glances exchanged among them.

Then Mom spoke again, her tone more solemn. “There’s something you need to know, Echorellian. We have a visitor… someone here specifically to see you.”

“Me?” I repeated, pointing at myself incredulously.

I walked toward my room, my mind spinning with questions. I pushed the door open carefully, and as I entered, I noticed a silhouette.

Standing in the center of my room was Princess Celestia. Her elegant figure stood out as she examined my decision tree, blueprints, and notes scattered across the room with interest.

The creak of the door caught her attention, and she turned to me gracefully, offering a tranquil smile.

“I see you’ve arrived, Echorellian,” she said, her voice as calming as a soft breeze.

My heart skipped a beat. Princess Celestia… here? In my room?

“What could she possibly want with me?” I muttered, more to myself than to her, as I struggled to process what was happening.

Celestia remained at the center of the room, her serene gaze sweeping over the intricate diagrams and notes that covered the walls. Her attention lingered on the decision tree, its carefully drawn branches stretching outward like a map of endless thought.

I stood frozen in the doorway, my heart pounding. Why was she here? What could I possibly say to her?

Finally, I broke the silence, trying to keep my voice steady. “P-Princess Celestia… what are you doing here? I mean, it’s an honor, but… why me?”

She turned toward me, her smile warm yet slightly curious. “Why not you, Echo?” she replied in a calm tone. “I’ve heard many things about you during the trials, but what I’ve seen here,” she gestured to the decision tree with a tilt of her hoof, “is what intrigues me the most.”

I swallowed hard, following her gaze to my creation. “The tree? It’s nothing special… just something I use to… organize my thoughts.”

“Organize your thoughts,” Celestia repeated, stepping closer to the tree with evident curiosity. “This isn’t something typical for a colt your age. Every branch, every split, represents a decision you considered, a possibility you explored. This reflects not only organization but an inquisitive and deeply reflective mind.”

I blushed slightly, scuffing the floor with my hoof. “I don’t know if I’d call it that. It’s just… how I try not to get lost. Sometimes it feels like there are too many options, too many things that could go wrong.”

Celestia tilted her head slightly, as though reflecting on my words. “Echo, there’s nothing wrong with thinking carefully about your decisions. But there’s a difference between considering possibilities and becoming trapped by them.”

“I know,” I admitted with a sigh. “Sometimes… it’s hard to move forward when I’m not sure what’s right.”

“What you’ve built here,” she said, gesturing again to the tree, “is an impressive tool, but also a reminder of the complexity of your thoughts. Every decision you make, every doubt you face, has value. But you must not allow those doubts to paralyze you.”

Her voice was like a warm breeze dispersing the fog in my mind.

“From what I’ve been told, and from what I’ve seen myself, during the trials, you faced incredibly difficult situations,” Celestia continued. “What impressed me most was how, despite everything, you found a way to move forward. Even when you were trapped in darkness, you didn’t give up. Why?”

I lowered my gaze for a moment, then raised my head with determination. “Because I wasn’t alone. I had my sisters with me. I had my family. I couldn’t give up while they were fighting so hard for me. And… because, deep down, I knew I still had the choice to keep going.”

Celestia smiled approvingly. “That is a lesson many don’t learn until much later in life, Echo.”

Her gaze was full of understanding. “Now, Echo, tell me… what do you hope to find at the end of this tree of yours? What do you want to become?”

I stared at my decision tree, my eyes fixed on the empty center where all the threads converged. That blank space stared back at me, almost mocking, a constant reminder of what I hadn’t been able to figure out. I stepped toward it, lifted a hoof as if to touch it, but stopped halfway and let it fall.

“It’s always the same question,” I said, breaking the silence. “I’ve spent so much time on this—researching, analyzing, mapping out every possibility. Every path, every little detail. But I always hit the same dead end. Always trying to find that thing to fill this space, but I never seem to define it.”

Celestia stood beside me, her calm gaze fixed on the tree with infinite patience. There was something in the way she observed it, as though she truly saw something beyond the lines and schemes. “And what do you think is missing, Echorellian?” she asked gently.

I let out a sigh, allowing my shoulders to sag slightly. “I don’t know… but it’s funny, really. Choosing to move forward without a clear direction is what’s helped me so far, but I’m not sure I’m ready to find what’s missing. Especially because… I didn’t even finish the trials. According to what Flashing said, we didn’t make it to the last one.”

“You mean the trial of Magic?” Celestia asked, her tone so gentle that I felt slightly less embarrassed answering.

I nodded, looking away. “Yeah. The fifth trial was a mess, and we didn’t even reach the sixth. It feels ironic, doesn’t it? A trial of magic, and me, an earth pony—I don’t even know what it’s like to have a spark of magic. I’d never have passed it.”

To my surprise, Celestia let out a soft, warm laugh, free of any mockery. “Echo, let me share something curious about the trial of Magic. That trial didn’t involve spells, enchantments, or even magical crystals. All it required was for the participants to push a door. Together.”

I stared at her, incredulous. “That’s it? Push a door?”

“Exactly,” she confirmed with a smile. “Magic isn’t always about sparks and fireworks. Sometimes, true magic lies in cooperation, in the union of wills to overcome a common obstacle. In that sense, though you didn’t reach the trial of Magic, I believe you passed it in a much more meaningful way.”

I frowned, processing her words. “How? I didn’t do anything special. If anything, we were humiliated.”

Celestia stepped closer to me, leaning slightly to meet my gaze. “What you faced in the forest was far more than any trial designed by me or the supervisors. You faced your darkness, your doubts, your deepest fears. And not only did you free yourself from them, but you also found the strength to move forward—not just for yourself, but for your sisters and others. That, Echo, is magic in its purest form.”

I swallowed hard, feeling a mix of pride, wonder, and lingering confusion.

“Magic,” I thought.

I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of what I was about to reveal. “But there’s still something else,” I said, sliding the satchel toward me and carefully opening it. From inside, I pulled out the violet star, holding it in my hooves and lifting it slightly so Celestia could see it clearly.

“This,” I said with as much seriousness as I could muster, “is a strange gem my family and I found when we got lost in a cave recently. It was an ancient cave, forgotten for generations by our family. I think it might be some sort of relic tied to our lineage. At first, it seemed special, even magical. It floated in the air as if it had a life of its own. But as soon as we left the cave, it just fell to the ground. Since then, it hasn’t shown any magical behavior.”

Celestia tilted her head slightly, her gaze focused intently on the star. There was something in her expression—an almost imperceptible flicker of recognition—that made me wonder if this wasn’t her first time encountering something like this.

“I’ve read every book Rockville has on gems, minerals, and geology,” I continued, “but nothing matches its structure or appearance. This star… it’s a mystery. Something completely unknown.”

For a moment, Celestia’s face remained composed, but I noticed a subtle spark in her eyes. “Echorellian,” she said softly, “your star reminds me of something I encountered a long time ago. Centuries ago, in fact, I found a gem with a similar design. It fell from the sky. However, When I sent her to study carefully and in depth, it exhibited no detectable traces of conventional or known magic. Eventually, I stored it in a safe place, thinking its purpose might reveal itself someday.”

I blinked, stunned. My star… falling from the sky? That sounded… almost too incredible to believe.

“And as for the magical explosion,” I continued, holding the star tightly in both hooves, “it was… chaotic. We were in a tense moment. Flashing had me restrained with his magic. He yanked the star from me, and that’s when it happened. It was like something snapped. Waves of magic shook everything and threw us into the air. It all happened so fast that I could barely process it.”

“So…” I said uncertainly “do you think it was the star or Flashing who caused the explosion?”

“It could be both” Celestia replied “When they studied it, many other unicorns experimented with it, but there was no anomalous or remarkable effect, in fact, nothing. But, you said that before that, you saw it floating right?”

“Yes”

“I don’t know why, but apparently, your star is possibly different or something that happened was different. The one we found remained motionless, but yours somehow reacted magically before the explosion”

“Does that lead us to?” I said curiously.

“I don’t know, there may even be a third reason for the explosion, but given the situations, it could have happened due to the situation they were involved in where there was tension. It could even have been… you, Echo”

“What did you feel at that moment?” she asked gently.

I hesitated, staring at the star in my hooves. “I was worried,” I admitted. “Flashing had pushed my sister. He had us under his control, and I confronted him because I couldn’t let him hurt them. That worry, that fear… that’s all I could think about.”

Celestia looked thoughtful, her gaze distant for a moment. “That’s interesting,” she said at last. “Intense emotions can often serve as catalysts for magical events. What you describe… sounds like it could be connected to the situation.”

“Me?” I asked incredulously. “I doubt it. I’m just an earth pony. I don’t have magic.”

“That’s not entirely true,” Celestia replied with a gentle smile. “All creatures in this world possess magic in some form. It doesn’t always manifest as it does in unicorns or alicorns, but it’s there.”

Her words left me speechless. Magic? In me? That couldn’t be right… could it?

Celestia leaned forward slightly, her horn glowing with a soft golden light as she enveloped the star in her magic. She didn’t touch it directly but seemed to be examining it carefully. After a few moments, she opened her eyes and allowed the star to settle back into my hooves.

“I don’t detect any active magic in this star at the moment,” she said. “But that doesn’t mean it lacks a purpose. And given that my investigators found no conclusions about the one I encountered before, yet yours seems to have reacted… there may be a connection. Whatever its nature, that makes it unique. I believe it should remain with you, Echorellian.”

I stared down at the star, its faint glow reflecting in my eyes. “Alright… thanks, I guess,” I murmured, feeling a strange mix of awe and responsibility.

Celestia’s gaze softened, as though she could see beyond what even I understood about myself. “Keep it safe and take care of it, Echo,” she said, her tone laced with quiet confidence. “Because someday, I believe you’ll uncover more about its purpose.”

I noticed the faint glow of the star. Once again, I thought they would take it away from me, but they let me keep it.

Celestia began to prepare to leave. "I think it’s time for me to go for now. There are some matters I must attend to," she said in her serene tone as she exited the room.

We gathered in front of our house, standing beneath the starry sky she had raised herself.

"Thank you for visiting our humble home, Princess," my father said, bowing alongside my mother.

"It’s my pleasure. But I regret the trouble and danger your children had to face," Celestia responded with genuine concern. "As compensation, you will receive a gift in the future. But for now, I’d like to offer you something special tonight."

She raised her gaze to the sky, pointing with her hoof to the night firmament. "I hope you’ll be awake a few minutes before dawn. I recommend finding the highest hill; it will be a moment worth seeing."

She gave us a subtle wink before spreading her majestic wings and taking flight toward the center of town.

"Did she just… invite us to watch her raise the sun?" my mother asked, still somewhat incredulous.

We slept for only a few hours before the bells woke us. Normally, we were used to rising early, but this time it was different; the night still blanketed the sky when we stirred.

My family was already gathered on the highest hill near the farm. My parents rested on the ground, while my sisters sat, their eyes fixed on the horizon with eager anticipation.

I, however, lingered behind for a moment. I stood in front of my decision tree, the mental map I’d been drawing throughout my life. It was full of possible paths, all converging in a blank center.

I stared at that empty space—the place that had haunted me for years.

What should I put there?

I sighed, unable to answer. Finally, I decided to leave it and head out to join the others.

We sat atop the hill. The sky was still dark, but the stars shone brightly—a canvas of infinite possibilities.

I settled at the edge of the group, my gaze fixed on the stars. They had always fascinated me, but tonight… tonight, they felt different.

As we waited for Celestia to arrive and raise the sun, I got lost in my thoughts, my eyes glued to the night sky. The stars shone with a calmness that starkly contrasted the chaos in my mind.

A question kept echoing within me: “What do you want to be?”

It was so simple, yet so incredibly difficult.

All my life, I had watched others find clear and defined paths—like my siblings. Robin, with his academic pursuits. Amanda, with her artistic exhibits. Or… Anthony. Academia, art, and sports. Each had something that defined them. They had found their way.

And me?

I was still here.

I sighed, visualizing my decision tree in my mind. All those branches, all those options, and not a single answer. Just a void in the center, mocking me.

"Just pick something."

"Take it one step at a time."

"Don’t rush; keep exploring."

Those pieces of advice played on repeat in my head, like a melody stuck on loop. But what happens when you follow them and still don’t get anywhere? What happens when years pass, and you’re still the same—even after dying and getting a second chance?

Tears threatened to fall, but I held them back. Why can't I choose? Why am I still stuck here?

I had studied so much, learned, researched, gathered information. I had tried every possible trick to move forward, yet I always ended up in the same place.

"There is no answer."

That was the only conclusion I could come to.

I hated myself for it—for not moving forward, for feeling like I was letting everyone down, for not finding the purpose that seemed so natural to others. My sisters, my family, even Celestia—they had all encouraged me, supported me, cheered me on to keep me from falling into darkness. And yet, here I was, in the same spot.

But as I looked at the starry sky, I let my thoughts settle like leaves drifting on a river. There was something I always did, something I never failed to do: I got back up.

Over and over again. No matter how many times I fell, no matter how many doubts tormented me, no matter how many paths seemed to lead nowhere—I kept going.

And maybe… that wasn’t so bad.

"Echo," a gentle voice called behind me.

I turned my head to see my mother sitting beside me. Her face radiated that calmness that always managed to comfort me.

"It’s beautiful, isn’t it?" she said, looking up at the sky.

I nodded, not saying a word, turning my gaze back to the stars.

Falling and getting back up again—that’s what I do.

But then, a question whispered through my mind: Why do I do it? Is it for myself? Or…

I glanced at my family. Pinkamena, sitting next to Maud, the two of them talking quietly. Limestone and Marble were sharing an apple, while Dad and Mom exchanged serene words. They were my rock, and at the same time, the reason behind my efforts.

Do I do it for them?

The answer wasn’t simple, but something in me knew it didn’t matter.

It didn’t matter how much I had to search to find a way to keep them safe.

It didn’t matter how deeply I had to sink to confront my own darkness if it meant I could help my family.

I get back up. And I move forward. Step by step.

Even if I’m struck down.

Even if I’m bound by roots.

Even if I’m trapped in a cocoon of doubts and fears.

Despite it all, I keep going.

During the trials, I saw it clearly. I faced magic—something I’d never understood or controlled. I couldn’t beat Flashing. I couldn’t stop the colony of roots. But even so, I kept moving forward.

It’s ironic. I gave it my all, yet I always seemed to hit a limit I couldn’t surpass. Then Celestia came, with a simple spell that cleared the way and saved us—my sisters and me.

I kept thinking about it. That limit.

In that moment, I wished for so many things. I wished for the strength to be more. To not need saving. To know what it feels like to have magic. To know what it feels like to fly.

Fly…

I’ve always looked up at the sky, searching for signs of pegasi gliding among the clouds. Every flap of their wings, every turn in the air, seemed like a dance of freedom I could only imagine.

But I can’t do that. I’m not a pegasus. Nor a unicorn. I’m an earth pony.

Magic and flight…

I closed my eyes and let the cool dawn breeze brush against my face. I raised my hooves, stretching them out as if they were wings. For a moment, I imagined what it would feel like to have the wind rushing through feathers, the thrill of diving into the open air, and the power of magic lighting my path.

I want to experience it all. I don’t want to be confined to one thing. I want to feel everything, to understand everything.

But not just for myself.

I thought of Anthony, how I wanted to be there in his final moments, to help him reach his dreams. I thought of my family, how I wanted to protect them in the cave, ensuring they made it out safely. I thought of my sisters, how I fought to keep them from being crushed by the roots—roots I had somehow caused.

I want others to be happy, too.

I’ve spent my entire life doubting, building possible paths in my mind. But I’ve never dared to choose one. What if I choose wrong? What if… I fail?

But… thinking about it, I wouldn’t have escaped the void without what others did for me.

Maybe the actions we take don’t go in just one direction.

What if I can be something greater? Something that helps not just me, but others too?

The gentle flutter of wings pulled me from my thoughts. I looked up to see Celestia descending beside me, her figure glowing softly in the night sky's faint light.

I blinked in surprise and quickly averted my gaze, trying to act as though this was completely normal.

She smiled, clearly noticing my awkwardness.

Whether by luck, mistake, or something else, I had been reborn with my memories intact. Now, in this life, I looked like just another colt, but I still carried the memories of my previous life. In a way, I could say I’d lived more than anyone else realized.

But her… Celestia… she had lived far more than anyone could comprehend.

I couldn’t help but think about everything she represented. Here was Celestia, someone who had lived through centuries, perhaps millennia, facing unimaginable challenges. With her magic and wisdom, she could have chosen any life, any destiny. But she chose to stay. To help. To guide. To protect.

Without thinking too much, I let a question escape my lips. “How do you do it? How do you bear the weight of being who you are?”

Celestia looked at me, surprised at first, but her expression soon softened. “With perseverance, faith in others, and acceptance that I don’t always have the answers. Being an alicorn doesn’t mean being perfect, Echorellian. It means embracing imperfection, learning from it every day, and using your strengths to help others.”

Her words struck something deep within me. Embrace imperfection.

I turned my gaze back to the sky, my thoughts drifting among the stars.

“I’ve noticed how you look at the sky,” Celestia continued, her tone warm. “There’s something about it that calls to you, isn’t there?”

“I’ve always been fascinated by it… the vastness, the unknown,” I admitted. “It makes me feel small, but at the same time, like I could be part of something bigger.”

Celestia nodded, her expression contemplative. “Perhaps tonight, you’ll find an answer in the sunrise. There’s a special power in watching the sun rise, especially when you understand what it means.”

As Celestia prepared to raise the sun, I felt a tension in the air, as if even nature was holding its breath in reverence for what was about to happen. My family stood beside me—a humble family of rock farmers, living in a dusty, forgotten corner of Equestria.

A place where magic seemed nonexistent, where our lives revolved around rocks and more rocks. How could someone like me aspire to something greater?

Celestia stepped forward, her horn beginning to glow with a soft, golden aura. As she did, memories began swirling in my mind—a flood of images and emotions of everything that had brought me to this moment.

From the day I opened my eyes in this world, surrounded by dust, stone, and more gray than any mind should endure. “We’re rock farmers? How is that even a thing?”

I chuckled to myself at the memory. Life has a peculiar sense of humor.

Then there was the moment I recognized Pinkie for the first time—the shock of realizing that this world wasn’t just new, but one I already knew. A world I thought was fictional. And yet, here I was, living it.

I thought of the years that followed, of how I trained every day of my life, moving and carrying rocks, of how I read every book I could find in Rockville, only to be disappointed when I discovered they were all about… rocks.

My mind jumped to the camp, to the trials, to the chaos I had caused trying to keep Pinkie from facing an uncertain future. Or, funnier still, nearly drowning three times because of how stubborn I was.

I remembered the darkness of the situation, when we were trapped in the cave and separated, but the glow of the moss above our heads lit the way out.

How I ended up facing rabbits, unicorns, roots, and, ultimately, my own darkness.

But there was also support.

I remembered how my sisters never stopped fighting for me, how their voices pulled me from the abyss. How even Anthony, from a memory of my past life, gave me strength when I needed it most.

Celestia began raising the sun, and the first rays of light illuminated the horizon. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, letting that warm light fill every corner of my being.

A memory surged forward with clarity: my birthday in my past life, sharing a humble cupcake with Anthony. It was that very birthday when I started building my decision tree—a system to try to control the uncontrollable, to make sense of a life filled with possibilities and uncertain paths.

I imagined my tree, slowly growing, forming and expanding with every bit of information I collected and researched throughout my life.

I opened my eyes and looked at the sunrise, its golden light spreading slowly.

Then, I understood.

I had spent my entire life asking myself the same question: "What do I want to be?"

The question had followed me everywhere. Memories flooded my mind—all the moments in my life when that question immobilized me, unanswered.

In the classroom of my past life, where my teacher asked me…
Sitting with Anthony, as he asked me…
Under the moon at night, at the camp, asking myself…
During the written test, staring at a single question on the page…
Even in my room, with Celestia asking me…

"What do you want to be?"

The sun finally revealed itself in all its majesty, and something within me shifted.

I imagined my tree again, massive and full, brimming with possibilities and paths. It began to crack.

In front of me was Celestia, radiant against the rising sun. Her wings were spread wide, her horn glowing with brilliance.

For an instant, my mind stopped running in circles. My doubts, my fears, my anxiety over choosing the right path… all of it melted away. What remained was a peace I had never felt before.

I knew.

For the first time in my life, I knew with certainty.

I couldn’t hold it back any longer. I fell to the ground, my hooves digging into the earth. Tears spilled freely, hot and liberating.

“At last… after all this time… I finally know,” I murmured through my sobs, barely comprehensible even to myself.

In my mind, my decision tree—that symbol of my indecision and desperate attempts to control every possibility—began to crack even more. The branches snapped, the leaves fell, and finally, it all collapsed, forming a single image.

I saw it clearly.

A wide, genuine smile spread across my face as the words escaped my lips in a whisper that seemed to resonate through my entire being.

"What do I want to be?"

All the versions of myself, the ones who had faced that question at different stages of my life—in school, on the bench, on the hill, during the exam, in my room—answered in unison:

"I want to be… an Alicorn."

A bright light emerged from me.

The air seemed to hum with an energy I couldn’t describe, and as Celestia finished raising the sun, she turned just enough to look at me. Her serene gaze brightened with a soft smile, as if she had already known what I had decided.

Author's Note

Celestia arrives to save the day.

Once the danger is resolved, Flashing Blow’s true attitude is revealed, and it’s clear he’ll face serious consequences for his actions.

The group safely returned to Rockville, where the aftermath of the events was closely examined. Among the key revelations was the awakening of wild magic in the forest, an unforeseen phenomenon. Echo, having performed exceptionally during the trials, caught Celestia’s attention, prompting her to visit him that night.

During their conversation, Echo and Celestia delved deeply into the question that had always haunted him: “What do you want to be?” Echo also revealed the mysterious star to Celestia. Despite her recognition of its resemblance to a gem she had encountered long ago, Celestia chose to leave the star in Echo’s care, noting that it may hold a unique connection to him.

As a gesture of gratitude, Celestia promised the Pie family a future reward and gave them a special gift that same night: the chance to witness her raising the sun.

That night, Echo reflected on why he continued to move forward despite his lingering doubts and inability to choose a clear path. After much soul-searching, he finally discovered the answer to the question that had tormented him for so long.

“I want to be… an Alicorn.”

Fun Facts:

Initial Concept: This arc was originally conceived as an annual event in Rockville resembling an Olympic Games with a rock theme. The arc would have taken place over two days, with Celestia attending the first day to watch Echo’s class perform a play that she would enjoy immensely.

Flashing Blow’s Evolution: Flashing underwent multiple revisions during development. He was initially written as a long-time resident of Rockville, embodying the stereotypical schoolyard bully archetype, complete with two lackeys. However, he was later reworked to have a more defined motive and to serve as a direct foil to Echo. Additionally, the idea of Flashing being a unicorn hidden in Rockville was adjusted, as it seemed implausible for no one to notice.

Rewriting the Magic Explosion: The explosion of wild magic caused by the star underwent significant changes. In earlier drafts it was not credible that someone would not be able to notice the origin in a public setting. Now, none of the characters are entirely certain about the explosion’s origin—whether it was the star, Flashing, or something else entirely—building suspense for future developments. (All for the convenience of the script)

Celestia’s Search: The story takes place before the Sonic Rainboom, meaning it predates Twilight Sparkle’s selection as Celestia’s protégé. This led to the logical expansion of Celestia’s search beyond the School for Gifted Unicorns, adding depth to her involvement in Rockville’s trials.

The Star and Echo: Crafting a believable scenario where Echo could reveal the star to Celestia while she chose to let him keep it was a delicate balance. This was resolved by leaning into the uncertainty surrounding the star’s origin and its reaction to Echo.

Spoilers and Notes:

Comic Connections: The star is not the Element of Magic, though it bears a resemblance. According to My Little Pony comic issue #75, the gem is linked to a broader storyline involving chaos magic and Cosmos. In this story, Celestia’s limited knowledge leads her to suspect a potential connection to the Element of Magic, which justifies her decision to leave the star with Echo.

Anthony’s Role: This may not be the last time we hear about Anthony. There are several possible directions to take his character, and his story arc is still open for development.

Flashing Blow’s Future: Flashing’s story isn’t over. Despite his arrogance, he has been humiliated, disqualified, and stripped of his chance to achieve greatness—all because of Echo. His lingering resentment, combined with the unresolved matter of the star, sets the stage for future confrontations.

With this chapter, the trial arc comes to a close, marking the beginning of Echo’s long journey toward becoming an Alicorn.

From here, the story will shift back to Echo’s day-to-day life, focusing on his gradual progress and the challenges he’ll face along the way. Of course, there will still be the occasional chapter featuring adventures and unexpected twist

Thank you for reading!