Twilight lay nestled in her bed, her head resting on a large velvet pillow. The curtains were drawn, but the chirping of the first birds hinted that morning was near. It was still early; the sun hadn’t risen yet. Draped over her was a large, fluffy wing that enveloped her like a warm blanket. Twilight’s mind raced.

Daybreaker.

Her heart pounded faster as her brain processed the information. The powerful, possibly insane Sun Goddess was lying right behind her, with a protective wing draped around her. Twilight could feel Daybreaker’s calm, rhythmic breathing against the back of her neck, steady, almost soothing. She could even smell it. Surprisingly, it didn’t smell like ash or sulfur but rather of mint and strawberries. Her mane flickered gently, the embers dancing in a steady rhythm and casting a warm light in the darkness of the room.

Stay calm, Twilight, she admonished herself as a nervous tremor spread through her body. This is totally normal. A dangerous goddess has decided your bed is her new favorite spot. No reason to panic. Perfectly normal, it happens to everypony at some point.

Her thoughts spiraled as she feverishly wondered what to do. Sneak away? Confront her directly? Who am I kidding? This is anything but normal. But maybe if I just… carefully get up…

Slowly, painfully slowly, Twilight began inching toward the edge of the bed. Only now did she realize how heavy that wing actually was. She clenched her teeth, muscles tensed. Just a bit more… almost there…

A faint creak, perhaps from the mattress, made her freeze. She held her breath, eyes fixed straight ahead. Seconds stretched into what felt like hours, but everything stayed quiet. Letting out a silent sigh of relief, Twilight resumed her cautious retreat. Just a little more…

“Eeeaap!” Twilight let out a sharp squeak as Daybreaker suddenly shifted. Before she could even think of escaping, she felt a muscular foreleg wrap around her and pull her against the alicorn’s searingly warm chest with disquieting ease. The heat radiated through her coat, and the strength of that embrace knocked the wind out of her for a moment. She felt like a stuffed toy clutched by a sleeping child, only that this “child” was a potentially dangerous war demon.

Twilight froze. Her heart hammered wildly as she desperately tried to figure out what to do next. Okay, so I guess I’m stuck lying here until she wakes up. The resigned realization was oddly comforting, and she forced herself to breathe deeply.

Then she heard it: a soft, rhythmic sound, hardly more than a whisper in the stillness. Daybreaker was snoring. Twilight blinked in surprise. It wasn’t a thunderous snore, but more of a gentle, almost peaceful noise, like you’d expect from a sleeping puppy, or, apparently, from a solar goddess.

It might even have been cute if said alicorn didn’t look like she could turn entire armies to ash with one glare. Twilight risked a brief glance at the sleeping face above her. With closed eyes and a relaxed expression, Daybreaker looked strangely… vulnerable. The contrast to her usual menacing aura was almost comical.

Twilight stifled a nervous giggle. Okay, I admit she looks kind of adorable when she’s asleep… for an oversized fire monster, anyway.

Just when she was starting to relax, she felt one of Daybreaker’s large primary feathers brush against her nose. A slight itch spread through her nostrils, and her breathing started to change uncontrollably. Panic surged in her. Oh no, no, no, no!

Twilight realized what was about to happen and tried desperately to stop it. She pressed her hooves against her nose, squeezed her eyes shut, and held her breath. But it was too late.

“HAA-tschi!” A high-pitched sneeze shattered the morning silence.

Twilight went rigid, eyes locked on the ceiling as her heart raced. “M-maybe… maybe she didn’t hear it,” she whispered hopefully.

“Who didn’t hear what?” asked a familiar voice right behind her, practically dripping with curious amusement.

Twilight gulped, not daring to turn around. “Uh… what are you doing in my bed?” Her voice came out as a squeak.

Daybreaker withdrew a little, her mane glowing gently in the dim light as she sat up. “Straight to the point, hmm? Not even a polite ‘good morning.’”

Twilight rolled her eyes, unsure whether to be amused or annoyed. “Good morning, Your Majesty. Is there a particular reason I woke up in bed with you?”

Daybreaker grinned mischievously, her teeth flashing in the half-light. “What’s the big deal? When you were a filly, you crawled into my bed all the time.”

Twilight’s face instantly turned red. “I was seven and having nightmares!”

“And I can’t have nightmares?” Daybreaker replied in feigned indignation.

Twilight stared at her in disbelief. “I was afraid of monsters in my closet! I’m sure the only reason monsters would hide in your closet is that they’re afraid of you!” Her voice got louder with each word, until she was nearly shouting. “And you’re definitely not seven!”

Daybreaker smirked and leaned back, her fiery mane swirling lightly as though entertained by Twilight’s outburst. But then her smile faded, and her golden eyes softened. “All right, you’ve caught me.” Her voice suddenly went quieter, almost hesitant. “The truth is…” She paused, and a flicker of uncertainty crossed her face, so brief Twilight almost missed it.

“Ever since the attack, I’ve been worried about you,” Daybreaker finally continued, her words slower and more measured than before. “I spent every night here by your side, hoping you would wake up. So that…” She dropped her gaze for a moment, as though struggling with herself. “So that I’d be the first thing you saw when you opened your eyes.”

Twilight stared at her, unable to speak. There it was again, that vulnerable look that seemed so at odds with the powerful, intimidating figure she usually presented. It was as if Daybreaker had taken off her impenetrable armor for just a second and what lay underneath took Twilight’s breath away. Come to think of it, Daybreaker actually isn’t wearing any armor right now…

“That’s… actually pretty sweet,” Twilight finally whispered, feeling her cheeks flush. She searched Daybreaker’s gaze, and as their eyes met, Twilight saw a strange mixture of pride and shame that she couldn’t quite place.

Suddenly, as if out of nowhere, Daybreaker jumped out of bed. Her mane flared brightly, and she put on a smile that felt almost a bit too forced. She lifted her chin, clearly trying to hide her own reddening cheeks. “Anyway, I’m glad you’re awake again, Twilight! Shall we begin our day? I have quite a lot planned.”

Twilight blinked, momentarily thrown by Daybreaker’s abrupt change in mood. She suppressed a quiet sigh. And she’s back, back to her usual ‘new’ self. “Sure, why not,” she murmured, sliding slowly off the bed.

About ten minutes later, Twilight and Daybreaker were sitting in the dining hall, which was swathed in a subdued light. Only some of the chandelier’s candles were lit, and their flickering flames cast long shadows on the ornately decorated walls. The atmosphere was unexpectedly calm, almost cozy, as though the world had stopped for a moment.

In front of each alicorn sat a large plate of fresh, golden-brown waffles that were still steaming slightly. Next to them were small bowls filled with steaming hot cherries, whose sweet-tart aroma filled the air, and a bowl of oat-based whipped cream. Twilight cast a cautious sidelong glance at Daybreaker, who was sipping tea and seemed lost in thought.

“This… looks really good,” Twilight finally said, her stomach growling softly at the sight. She picked up a fork, carefully cutting into the golden-brown waffle pieces, trying to keep the unusual silence from becoming awkward.

“I did say you’d be spoiled here,” Daybreaker replied with a smug smile. “Only the best for my Twily.”

Twilight paused, giving her a look of mild annoyance. “Don’t call me that,” she grumbled. “Only my brother gets to call me that.”

Daybreaker raised an eyebrow and cocked her head slightly. “Whatever you say, Bookhorse.”

Twilight glared daggers at her, a look that would probably have killed a lesser pony. Daybreaker froze for a split second, as though momentarily reminded of her own mortality, and began to sweat nervously. “I mean Twilight, of course…” Suddenly, her expression turned thoughtful. “Maybe Twiggles? Or Twi Twi? May I call you Twi Twi, Twilight?”

Twilight snorted and let out an overly dramatic sigh. “No,” she said firmly, crossing her forelegs in front of her chest. “But you can try ‘Twi.’”

Daybreaker pursed her lips in mock contemplation, tapping her chin as though seriously considering it. “Your proposal has been noted and is under review.” A short pause followed, then she declared, “Proposal rejected. I’ll stick with Twilight.”

Twilight rolled her eyes, this time with a small smile. It’s absurd how many times I’ve rolled my eyes in the last 24 hours.

“So,” Twilight began, taking another bite of waffle. She chewed slowly, choosing her words before continuing. “Yesterday, you mentioned something about training?”

Daybreaker swallowed a bite of her own waffle, then licked her lips. “Right,” she said at last, flashing a self-satisfied grin. A few drops of cherry sauce dribbled down her muzzle, leaving red trails that looked almost like blood in the flickering candlelight. Twilight involuntarily shivered at the image, even though she knew it was just her imagination.

“As I mentioned,” Daybreaker went on, “your body and your magic changed drastically when you became an alicorn.” Her eyes flicked momentarily to Twilight’s wings, and a faint blush rose in her cheeks. “You’ve got… some very soft wings now,” she mumbled before clearing her throat and sounding more authoritative again. “And you also have access to Earth Pony and Pegasus magic.”

Twilight raised an eyebrow. “Earth Pony magic? You mean stuff like… making plants grow?”

Daybreaker giggled, shaking her head. “Oh, it goes way beyond that. Earth Ponies draw their strength from a bond with nature. You might notice you now have incredible physical resilience, and who knows? Maybe you actually can make plants grow faster one day.” Her eyes shone mischievously. “Or at least grow something. Spike did mention he’d never met a pony with a hoof as black as yours.”

Twilight grimaced. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“And then there’s your magical potential,” Daybreaker continued, undeterred. “Both your capacity and your maximum power output should have increased dramatically.” She paused, giving Twilight a thoughtful look. “When Luna ascended, even the type of her magic changed. Who knows what might happen with you.”

Twilight put down her fork and leaned back, brow furrowed. “Magic type?”

Daybreaker nodded, sounding almost like a teacher who’d been waiting for that question. “Yes, magic type. You know, the branch of magic you have an innate affinity for. For instance, there’s Emission Magic, casters who channel large amounts of magic at once, creating broad-scale effects. Like me.” She grinned, clearly proud of herself.

“Then there’s Manipulation, magicians who are masters of altering their surroundings. They excel in illusions, for example. A certain light-blue unicorn you once wrote me about might fall under that category, oh, what was her name? Anyway.”

Twilight lifted an eyebrow as Daybreaker continued, “Then we have Preservation, magicians with a knack for healing and protective spells. Your brother or Cadance are perfect examples of that. Next is Cognition. Cognition-type magicians specialize in mental magic and rituals, and they’re pretty rare. Luna is one of them.”

Daybreaker’s voice grew more energetic. “Finally, we have Conduction. These magicians don’t have a natural affinity for any specific branch of magic. For them, learning new spells is often grueling and resource-intensive. But they can develop extraordinary precision and versatility. The most famous Conduction-type mage was Star Swirl the Bearded.”

Leaning back, looking satisfied, Daybreaker threw Twilight a pointed stare. “Seriously, did you not pay attention in my lessons?”

Twilight shot her a deadly serious, sarcasm-laden look. “I might have been sleeping in somepony else’s bed,” she said ironically. “Of course I know about magic types, Daybreaker. I just didn’t expect that ascending to alicornhood might change one’s type.”

Daybreaker smirked, shrugging. “Life is full of surprises, Twi Twi. You used to be Conduction, but we’ll...”

A sudden coughing fit interrupted her. Twilight lurched forward, gripping the edge of the table as she fought for air. Tears welled in her eyes as her cheeks turned red. Daybreaker reacted instantly, bounding over the table with a single wingbeat and reaching Twilight’s side in an instant. She patted Twilight firmly on the back until a small cherry pit finally popped out of her mouth and landed on the table.

Twilight wiped her eyes and took deep breaths, her voice rasping. “Oh, that was close.”

“It was,” Daybreaker murmured, her voice oddly subdued. Her golden eyes rested on Twilight, but it was as if she were gazing right through her.

Unbidden, the memories came rushing back, the visions she’d tried so hard to suppress. The banquet. Twilight suddenly gasping for breath and collapsing to the floor. The stunned silence, then the screams. Daybreaker had held her in her hooves, feeling Twilight’s pulse slow, the life draining from her body. Her own tears had burned away in her fury as she screamed in rage and grief until her throat bled. The recollection of Twilight’s pale, vacant eyes was burned into her mind like a searing brand.

Daybreaker blinked, and suddenly she was back in the dining hall. Her fiery mane flickered restlessly as she fought to keep her emotions in check. “I… I’ll get you a glass of water,” she said softly, her voice subdued, picking up the cherry pit before leaving the room.

Twilight watched her go, brow creased in concern. “Daybreaker?” She got no answer, only the fading echo of hoofsteps on marble.

A meditative calm pervaded the kitchen. It was still early morning, and only a small portion of the staff was already at work. Chef Turmeric, a muscular Earth Pony stallion with pale-yellow fur and a perpetually critical gaze, stood at the large workstation. Together with three sous-chefs, he was preparing cake batter for later in the day. The gentle clattering of bowls filled the room, mingling with low chatter among the staff.

At one of the stations stood Lime Peel, a young, green-tinted unicorn with a perpetually nervous smile. In front of him was a large mixing bowl filled with flour, sugar, vanilla, oil, and oat milk, and he stirred it intently, occasionally casting a furtive glance at his colleague, Sugar Drop. In Lime Peel’s eyes, the slim Pegasus with cream-colored fur and caramel hair was the most attractive mare in the entire palace kitchen.

“So, I’m telling you, Lime,” Sugar Drop began, tossing him a teasing smile while adding cocoa powder to her mixture, “if I ever open my own bakery, my chocolate cake will be even more famous than Turmeric’s.”

Lime let out a nervous laugh, inadvertently stirring faster. “Sure, but without you, the palace kitchen would probably be really dull.”

Sugar Drop grinned. “Maybe you’ll just have to come with me.” She winked, and Lime Peel nearly dropped his bowl if not for his magic kicking in at the last second.

Chef Turmeric glanced over his shoulder, eyes sharp. “Peel! If you stir that batter like it’s cement, we’ll never be done! Focus!”

“Y-Yes, Chef!” Lime Peel stammered, forcing his thoughts back to the bowl in front of him. But before the kitchen could slip back into its regular routine, the door burst open with a crash.

Silence fell instantly as Daybreaker strode into the room, her mane blazing and eyes glinting like molten gold. What had been a lively space turned oppressively still as everyone instinctively bowed.

Daybreaker paused at the threshold, her presence as heavy as an oncoming storm. “Which one of you,” she began, her voice dangerously calm, “is responsible for the cherries at breakfast?”

Chef Turmeric was the first to move, though his hooves trembled as he spoke. “T-That would be… Lime Peel, Your Majesty.” His voice was barely more than a whisper, one hoof pointing nervously at the green unicorn.

Daybreaker advanced slowly into the room, every step meticulously controlled. She closed the door behind her with a soft click that felt like a whip crack, then walked toward Lime Peel. With her magic, she levitated the cherry pit she’d taken from Twilight and held it up to his face.

“Do you know what this is?” Her voice was quiet, almost casual, but her raised eyebrow spoke of expectation.

Lime Peel swallowed hard, gaze darting between Daybreaker and the pit. He began to sweat. “I-It’s a cherry pit, Your Majesty.”

Daybreaker nodded slowly. “A cherry pit. Correct.” Her eyes flickered briefly, as though she’d just paid him a compliment. “Care to explain why a cherry pit was in the supposedly pitted cherries served to me and Twilight this morning?”

Lime Peel went as pale as a bedsheet, his hooves trembling. “I-I don’t know, Your Majesty. There shouldn’t have been a pit. It… it must have been a small oversight on my part.”

Daybreaker tilted her head, her gaze stabbing him like a dagger. Then her mouth curved into a startlingly friendly smile. “Well, if it was just a small oversight, then there’s no harm done, right?” Her tone was gentle, almost consoling.

Lime Peel started to relax, breathing a bit more easily. “Yes, that’s exac...”

He never got to finish. Daybreaker’s wing snapped out in a lightning-fast motion, the metal tips of her wing ornaments catching the light. In one clean, soundless slash, Lime Peel’s head was severed from his body. A stunned silence filled the room, broken only by the dull thud of his head hitting the floor and then his body collapsing onto the tiles.

Daybreaker folded her wing back, her gaze sweeping the kitchen. Her voice was ice-cold as she said, “Clean that up and find a replacement for him.”
She turned toward the sink, where she grabbed a rag. With smooth, controlled movements, she wiped the blood from her wing, her face impassive. “Make sure his replacement is more competent.”

Chef Turmeric and the other staff stared in horror before hastily moving to remove the lifeless body. Daybreaker filled a glass of water with regal composure, then left the room as if nothing had happened.

Twilight wasn’t sure what to make of it all. When Daybreaker returned from the kitchen, she’d handed her a glass of water and, in almost a cheerful tone, suggested they move on. Wearing a smug grin Twilight found unsettlingly familiar, she looked too pleased, like she’d just accomplished something. That smile has nothing to do with bringing me water, Twilight thought. It’s the same smile she wears whenever she’s achieved something.

The notion made her shiver involuntarily. She could only guess what draconian punishment had been meted out to the pony responsible for the cherry pit. She could practically hear Daybreaker’s voice in her mind: You’ll be cleaning the kitchen alone after every shift for the next forty months. A cold chill ran down her spine.

“Twilight?” Daybreaker’s voice snapped her back to reality. “You look like you’re thinking hard. Don’t worry, our training will clear your head,” she said with a hint of amusement.

Twilight just nodded weakly, following Daybreaker as she led her into a building with colossal marble doors bearing intricate engravings. Twilight had expected an ordinary training hall, but upon crossing the threshold, she discovered that “hall” was the wrong word entirely.

A massive arena spread out before her, its sheer scale taking her breath away. The walls were hewn from gleaming white marble, and atop the stands rose rows of gold statues, each depicting Daybreaker in various poses exuding strength and dominance. Twilight couldn’t help wondering how she’d managed to erect statues of herself so quickly, but decided she probably didn’t want to know.

The arena itself was towering, easily ten stories high, with an open roof showing the vibrant blue sky overhead. The floor was packed clay, carefully smoothed, marked with white chalk lines forming different sections and patterns. Twilight couldn’t decipher their finer details, but they felt almost ritualistic.

“This,” Daybreaker began, her voice hushed, almost reverent, “is where we begin.”

Twilight couldn’t help but glance around, eyes roaming over the vast stands, the sparkling statues, and then the chalk patterns beneath her hooves. She swallowed hard. “It’s… impressive,” she managed, her voice small in the sheer expanse of the arena.

Daybreaker let out a satisfied chuckle. “What we’re going to do here is what’s really going to impress you, Twi Twi.”

Twilight rolled her eyes. “Didn’t I tell you not to call me that?”

Daybreaker laughed softly, a deep, amused sound that echoed in the cavernous space. “You did. But you’ll find I’m not so good at taking orders.”

Twilight shook her head, releasing a soft sigh as she glanced around once more. It felt like a piece of her future was about to unfold here, and that notion worried her more than she cared to admit. “So, where do we start?”

Daybreaker didn’t answer immediately. With her magic, she lifted a piece of chalk and started drawing a large circle on the clay floor, adding symbols and patterns with precise, measured strokes. At length, she stepped back and gestured. “Do you know what this is, Twilight?”

Twilight resisted the urge to roll her eyes again. Take that, instincts, she thought triumphantly. Studying the circle closely, she replied, “It looks like a rune circle. But I don’t see any distinct effect, seems it’s just storing magic.”

Daybreaker nodded approvingly. “Exactly right. This circle can hold about fifty thousand mana. An average unicorn could fill maybe a tenth of that in about twenty minutes. A very powerful unicorn could fill half of it in around fifteen minutes. Your brother could fill it completely in ten.” She paused, her amused eyes glittering. “Whereas I would need about ten seconds.”

Twilight stared, her thoughts racing. “That’s… incredible. But why are you showing it to me?”

Grinning, Daybreaker began drawing additional circles around the first, twenty-five in total, arranged in perfect symmetry. “When you were still a unicorn, we measured your magical strength with a horn ring. That doesn’t work on an alicorn; our power exceeds the device’s limits. So we use this method instead.”

Twilight watched, fascinated, as the circles took shape. “We’ll measure how many of these circles you can fill before magical exhaustion sets in, and how long it takes. That’ll show us your maximum capacity as well as your output. Also,” she went on, pointing to the chalk designs, “the color these circles light up in will help us identify your magic type.”

Twilight arched a brow. “That doesn’t sound very precise.”

Daybreaker shrugged. “It’s not perfect, but it’ll give us a decent idea of your current power level and your potential.”

“My potential?” Twilight frowned.

Daybreaker paused, giving her a serious look. “Yes. Your potential. Your body is still adjusting after your ascension. We only have three precedents so far. Based on limited data, your magic should grow by another fifty percent or so over the next eight to ten years.”

Twilight said nothing for a moment, letting this sink in. A spark of excitement flared within her at the thought of discovering her new magical potential. “And what happens now?”

Daybreaker grinned, moving aside as the chalk still hovered near her. “Now, Twi Twi, we begin.”

Stepping forward cautiously, Twilight approached the circles as if the floor might suddenly drop from under her hooves. “And… this is safe?” she asked, eyeing the chalk lines warily.

Daybreaker waved off her concern. “You’ll be out of magic for a few days until your power regenerates, but otherwise you’ll be fine.”

Twilight gave her a skeptical look. “How many of these circles can you fill, exactly?”

Daybreaker flashed a cocky smile. “Twenty-four, dear. Making me the most powerful alicorn walking this world. Even Luna can only manage nineteen.” She paused theatrically. “Though I suppose I’ll never match the destructive potential of your cooking.”

Twilight glared at her, eyes narrowing. “Hardy har har,” she said flatly. “For your information, I haven’t burned a single thing since then.”

Daybreaker cocked her head, eyes alight with amusement. “Only because nopony’s ever let you cook again. Twilight, you once managed to burn water. Water.”

Twilight scowled, cheeks turning slightly pink. “That was a one-off accident! It was an… experiment.”

“Oh, an experiment?” Daybreaker’s grin widened. “So it was intentional that the pots in your kitchen looked like lava fields afterward?”

Twilight sighed theatrically and stepped closer to the innermost circle. “I was trying to create lava.” She emphasized trying. “Could you please just forget about it?”

Daybreaker nodded with mock gravity. “Forget? Twi Twi, some feats are too legendary to be forgotten.”

Shaking her head, Twilight studied the circle in front of her. A small smile played across her lips, equal parts nervousness and resolve. “All right. Let’s see how legendary I really am.”

Her horn began to glow, a soft lavender aura that quickly intensified. Raw, unshaped magic flared outward in a massive corona and poured like a wild current into the runic circle. The first circle started to fill, its lines greedily absorbing the magic with uncanny precision. After about twenty seconds, it lit up with a gentle white glow, pulsing in a steady rhythm as sparks danced between the runes.

Twilight didn’t hesitate, channeling magic nonstop, her concentration unwavering. Soon a second circle lit up, then a third, and the glow kept spreading. The air in the arena began to shimmer as the excess energy charged the atmosphere. Twilight showed no sign of fatigue; her eyes sparkled with pure focus.

Watching from a few steps away, Daybreaker stood with rigid wings, her usual self-assured demeanor replaced by a pensive expression. She said nothing, but her golden eyes traced every spark, every surge of magic flowing from Twilight. A fleeting smile crossed her lips, though her thoughts remained analytical. Cadance lit up ten circles after her ascension. Luna reached thirteen, and I myself hit sixteen. Let’s see how the little Twilight does.

The ninth circle began to light up, each ring flickering softly and filling the arena with a nearly sacred glow. Twilight’s magic kept flowing, though the corona around her horn wasn’t as large as at the start. Her body trembled, sweat dripping from her brow as she focused all her strength on pouring more energy into the circles.

Daybreaker’s unwavering gaze noted every sign of Twilight’s growing exhaustion: the trembling legs, the strained expression, but Twilight persevered. Not bad, she thought. Will she be able to go further?

Soon the tenth circle lit up, followed by the eleventh, its white light flickering briefly before pulsing in a steady cadence. The tension in the arena was palpable, even to Daybreaker herself.

“All right, Twilight,” she whispered, her voice somehow carrying across the space. “Show me what you can do.”

If Twilight heard her, she gave no sign. Every bit of her concentration was on the next circle. Her breathing was ragged, chest heaving erratically, but she gritted her teeth and kept channeling with unwavering resolve. The runes in the circles pulsed in time with her magic, and the twelfth circle began to fill.

A low growl escaped her throat as the thirteenth circle finally came alive. The circles shone brightly, their shared rhythm throbbing through the arena. But Twilight’s magic was nearly spent; the once-brilliant corona around her horn was barely visible in the blinding glow of the rune-circles. Her legs trembled, body swaying, but she forced herself upright through sheer willpower.

“C’mon,” she muttered hoarsely. “Just… a bit… more.”

The lines of the fourteenth circle began to glow, tentatively at first, then growing stronger. Twilight squeezed her eyes shut, every muscle tensed as she drew the last dregs of power from deep within. The circle flared to life just as the magic around her horn died out completely.

With a gasp of exhaustion, Twilight collapsed. The dull thud of her body hitting the ground echoed through the arena. Her legs gave out entirely, leaving her sprawled between the pulsing, radiant circles. Her chest rose and fell heavily, but otherwise she lay still.

Daybreaker stood motionless for a moment, eyes fixed on Twilight. Her golden gaze glowed with a blend of pride and… something else, something indiscernible. Then she stepped closer, the crackle of her fiery mane breaking the silence. Her voice was soft yet firm. “Fourteen circles, Twilight. Impressive. That’s a total of seven hundred thousand mana.”

She paused, expression flickering between admiration and delight, then gave a small, respectful nod. “That puts you just behind Cadance, whose capacity is around seven hundred fifty thousand. But…” She let the word hang in the air. “…in a few years, once your magic fully develops, you could fill twenty circles, one million mana.” She winked, though Twilight was in no state to see it. “That’d put you just above Luna.”

Daybreaker’s gaze traveled over the glowing circles as if double-checking. “Your output is also worthy of respect,” she added. “Fourteen circles in about fifteen minutes. As a comparison, Cadance needed almost twenty-six minutes to fill ten. Impressive, but I can’t say I’m surprised.”

She smirked, a hint of amusement in her golden eyes. “Judging by the color of the circles, you’re still Conduction-type. That explains your rather high output, clearly above Cadance and probably above Luna as well.”

Letting her words linger, Daybreaker gently enveloped Twilight in her magic. The lavender glow of Twilight’s aura seemed almost soothing against the powerful glow of the circles. With a swift, fluid motion, Daybreaker lifted Twilight onto her back, her flaming mane flickering without singeing Twilight.

“All right, come on. In a few days, once your magic returns, we’ll begin your actual training. Today was more than enough, I think.”

Half-conscious, Twilight lay across Daybreaker’s back, trying to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, her stomach rebelled, and before she could stop herself, she threw up in a convulsive reflex. A wet, unpleasant sound echoed through the arena.

Daybreaker froze. For a moment, absolute silence reigned, broken only by the faint echo of Twilight’s retching. Turning her head slowly, her golden eyes glinted with a mix of surprise and… resignation.

“Well, that’s how you repay all my hard work,” she muttered drily, a faint smile quirking her lips. She gave a small shake of her head and sighed. “At least it landed on my back and not the ground.” Another sigh.

Twilight mumbled an inaudible apology before her head flopped wearily against Daybreaker’s mane.

“Well, Twi Twi,” Daybreaker said as she calmly walked out of the arena, “if this is a preview of our training, it’s going to be quite the journey. But for now, let’s get you cleaned up before the court opens today.”

Daybreaker sat on her majestic throne, posture like carved stone, stern and unyielding. Her gaze was fixed on the grand doors of the throne room, as though expecting something or someone to burst in at any moment. Her expression was severe, nearly unreadable, yet a flicker of… frustration?… smoldered in her golden eyes.

“I said I was sorry,” Twilight offered meekly, standing by the throne and shifting her gaze between the floor and Daybreaker.

Daybreaker didn’t move. Her fiery mane flickered softly, mirroring her irritation. Finally, she spoke, her voice cool with a slight edge to it. “You threw up on my back… twice.”

Twilight winced, ears folding back. She looked suitably guilty. “I didn’t mean to. I was… exhausted.”

“And then a third time after we showered,” Daybreaker added petulantly, her golden eyes finally fixing on Twilight. “Do you have any idea how disgusting that is?”

Twilight swallowed nervously, avoiding her gaze. “I can imagine…”

Daybreaker slowly leaned back in the throne, eyes returning to the door. “We’ll discuss this some other time.” She paused dramatically before adding in feigned gravity, “You realize there are some things even I can’t forgive, Twilight.”

Twilight raised an eyebrow, a bit of her courage returning. “Fine, I’ll scrub your back later until it smells like nothing but lavender soap.”

Daybreaker’s lips twitched, threatening a tiny amused smile. She inclined her head slightly, though she didn’t entirely drop her regal bearing. “Do that. And while you’re at it, help me deal with petitions today. It’s hard to come up with solutions when one is… how did you put it? Exhausted.”

Twilight rolled her eyes, unable to stop a small grin from tugging at her lips. “Very majestic of you to make such a big deal out of it.”

Daybreaker leaned forward, her expression serious but a playful glint in her eyes. “I define what is and isn’t majestic.”

Twilight said nothing, letting out a soft laugh before turning to stare at the throne room doors. The air remained still, almost tense, for about a minute. Finally, the large double doors opened, admitting a dark-gray unicorn mare with an emerald-green mane. Her steps were calm, almost graceful, and she levitated a list in front of her. Her cutie mark depicted a green flame on her gray flank, drawing the eye.

“Greetings, Your Majesty,” the mare began in a clear, polite voice. She paused briefly, her green eyes flicking to Twilight before refocusing on Daybreaker. “Are you ready to begin today’s session?”

Daybreaker gave a curt nod, her golden eyes shifting momentarily between the unicorn and Twilight. “Twilight,” she said, gesturing lightly toward the newcomer with a hoof, “allow me to introduce Bugvisor. She’s my new aide now that Raven has retired.”

Twilight regarded Bugvisor briefly, narrowing her eyes as though to evaluate her. “Nice to meet you,” she said at last, her tone polite but slightly reserved.

Bugvisor bowed slightly, offering a courteous yet faintly cool smile. “The pleasure is all mine, Princess Twilight. I’ve heard quite a bit about you.” Her voice was respectful, though there was a subtle undertone that set Twilight on edge.

Daybreaker rose slowly from her throne, her fiery mane flaring more brightly as she stepped forward. “All right, Bugvisor, what’s on the agenda? I hope it’s nothing too dull.”

Bugvisor glanced down at her list, scanning it while Twilight studied her with a mix of curiosity and caution. Something about her feels… off, Twilight thought, but remained silent for the moment.

“We don’t have too many appointments today, Your Majesty,” Bugvisor began, her voice calm and focused. “First, a certain Mister Penny Pot would like to speak with you about repairing the Cloudsdale Coliseum. Next, there’s a Ms. Green Leave, requesting an audience regarding the ongoing drought in the eastern regions. And finally…” Bugvisor paused, frowning slightly as she read the next entry, “a certain Trixie Lulamoon, who wishes to file a complaint about harassment.”

Twilight’s head shot up. “Trixie?” she asked in surprise. “I know her. She’s a traveling entertainer. We’ve crossed paths a few times.”

Daybreaker cast Twilight a sidelong glance, lifting an eyebrow. “I recall. She was… let’s say loud.”

Twilight shrugged, a faint smile forming. “That’s Trixie. But if she’s come all the way here, it must be something important.”

Daybreaker turned back to Bugvisor with a decisive tone. “Good. Bring Trixie in first. I’m curious to hear what she has to say.”

Bugvisor bowed gracefully, her expression unchanged. “Your wish is my command, Your Majesty.” She turned for the doors and exited with swift, fluid steps.

Twilight looked at Daybreaker, frowning slightly. “I wonder what it is this time. Trixie’s not usually the type to ask for help.”

Daybreaker gave a soft, almost amused snort. “Then let’s see what forced her to come here. I expect an entertaining performance.”

A few minutes passed before Bugvisor returned, accompanied by a blue unicorn wearing a flashy wizard’s hat and matching cape decorated with stars. Every step Trixie took seemed deliberately theatrical, as if she wanted to ensure all eyes were on her. Twilight suppressed a smile. Trixie hasn’t changed a bit.

Trixie halted before the throne and bowed low, her hat slipping forward slightly. She lifted it with her magic and placed it back on her head, then spoke. “The Great and Awe-Inspiring Trixie thanks Your Majesty for granting her an audience on such short notice.”

Daybreaker leaned forward slightly, her fiery mane flickering as she regarded the unicorn with a piercing stare. “Well then, Trixie Lulamoon,” she began, voice calm but firm. “I have little patience for theatrics. If you’re here, I hope it’s for something important.”

Trixie hesitated a moment, but her confident posture didn’t waver. “Of course, Your Majesty. Trixie would never waste your precious time on trivialities.” She cast Twilight a brief glance, perhaps checking whether she’d find approval or ridicule. Twilight returned the look with a mixture of curiosity and reserve.

Daybreaker lifted an eyebrow, her golden eyes glinting. “Then get to the point, Trixie. Why are you here?”

Trixie straightened, chest puffed out with pride, though a hint of tension lingered in her eyes. “Trixie has come seeking justice. She’s been repeatedly harassed in recent months, and it’s threatening her life and career as a traveling entertainer.” Her voice grew more urgent. “Trixie can’t travel or perform without fear. Criminals are damaging her property and putting her safety at risk.”

Twilight’s brow furrowed. “Criminals? What exactly happened, Trixie?”

Trixie shot Twilight a brief, almost relieved look before resuming her theatrical stance. “Trixie roams across Equestria and beyond, astounding creatures everywhere with her wonders and marvels. But lately…” She paused dramatically, lowering her voice. “…many nations have closed their borders: the Griffon Kingdoms, Saddle Arabia, even smaller principalities. On Trixie’s quest to find an audience not yet graced by the Great and Powerful Trixie’s show, she was forced to head north to the frozen wastes.”

Her eyes flashed as she punctuated her story with dramatic gestures. “Of course, the cold of the tundra is no match for Trixie’s magical prowess. But bands of thieves led by brutal warlords ambushed Trixie. They stole her possessions, damaged her magnificent wagon, and demanded outrageous tolls just for crossing the region.”

Twilight felt her brow crease in concern. “They forced you to pay them a ‘passage fee’?”

Trixie nodded vigorously, her expression teetering between outrage and triumph. “Exactly! These rogues extort anyone trying to traverse the tundra, demanding bits or property. And although Trixie heroically resisted, they still stole her precious props, vandalized her wagon, and even pelted Trixie with filth!”

She stomped a hoof, voice reaching a dramatic crescendo. “Trixie demands that these villains be brought to justice!”

Her words echoed in the throne room, followed by a short silence. Twilight turned to Daybreaker, whose golden eyes were fixed intently on the showmare.

“Warlords in the tundra?” Daybreaker murmured, sounding more intrigued than alarmed. “Interesting. So you expect me to send troops to deal with this threat?” She lifted an eyebrow, her tone even yet cutting.

Trixie wavered briefly before steadying herself. “The Great and Powerful Trixie expects nothing less than justice, Your Majesty.”

Daybreaker switched her gaze to Twilight, an almost curious glint in her eyes. “What do you think? How would you resolve this problem?”

Twilight assumed a thoughtful expression, brow knitted. “The frozen tundra isn’t claimed by any kingdom. It’s lawless territory. To ensure a safe route, we might set up a secure corridor. Possibly negotiate a treaty with the warlords, letting them keep their autonomy if they guarantee safe passage.”

Bugvisor scoffed the moment Twilight finished, her voice sharp and dismissive. “Make a deal with criminals? That would be a sign of weakness. I say we declare those lands part of Equestria and lock those thugs away.”

Twilight shook her head, keeping her tone steady but firm. “The frozen north is harsh terrain. Ponies only live there if they have nowhere else to go. Stationing troops there year-round isn’t worth it. Besides, the Crystal Empire might feel threatened if we expand our borders that far.”

Bugvisor snorted softly, green eyes flashing with disagreement. “Threatened? The Crystal Empire is weak. They can’t afford to criticize us.”

Twilight frowned, her voice going sharper. “Politics isn’t just about strength, Bugvisor. It’s also about diplomacy. Taking such a step without their agreement would further damage the trust between our nations.”

Daybreaker raised a hoof, a simple yet unmistakable gesture that immediately ended the argument. Her fiery mane flickered slightly. When she spoke, her tone was cool but decisive. “I must admit, I don’t care much for the Crystal Empire’s opinion of my policies. But I agree with Twilight that simply annexing those lands may not be the wisest move. Not worth it. Which, unfortunately, means that route remains unsafe. Another matter entirely if the Crystal Empire were part of Equestria and the railway route weren’t shut down.”

She paused, her golden eyes drifting toward nothing in particular, as though weighing an unseen scenario. “It’s no secret that criminals hold sway in the tundra. I can only warn ponies not to travel there. As for you, Trixie,” she added, turning her gaze on the showmare, “I recommend you wait it out and stay within Equestria’s borders. I’m sure there are still plenty of ponies here who haven’t seen your show.”

Trixie stiffened momentarily, torn between frustration and indignation, before managing a polite reply. “With all due respect, Your Majesty,” she began, her voice carefully courteous but edged with defiance, “the Great and Powerful Trixie has already traveled the length and breadth of Equestria, delighting all she meets. Her art deserves to be known beyond our borders.”

Daybreaker let out a short snort, almost a laugh, before lounging back in her throne. Her flaming mane flickered gently as she regarded Trixie with mild amusement. “You can’t tell me every pony in Equestria has seen your… art.”

Trixie hesitated, her outward confidence momentarily wavering into discomfort. “Well… no.”

Daybreaker raised an eyebrow, a smug grin forming. “Then I suppose that settles it for now.”

Trixie opened her mouth to protest, but the words died in her throat. Feeling the tension rising, Twilight stepped in, addressing Trixie gently. “Maybe this is an opportunity to reach more ponies in Equestria before you venture abroad again.”

Trixie seemed torn for a moment, then drew a deep breath and offered a somewhat forced smile. “The Great and Powerful Trixie shall heed your advice…”

Daybreaker shook her head, letting out a faint laugh. “Well, that’s a sensible choice.”

Author's Note

ALso... I actually worked on this chapter for 8 hours straight today. I don't know what that says about me, but probably not much good. Well, I hope you like it.

If you find mistakes or strange formulations, then it's definitely because of that