Applied Mathemagics

The sun dips below the horizon, staining the desert in shades of deep amber and violet. The heat that had been relentless all day finally starts to fade, leaving behind a cooling breeze that ruffles my mane.

We glide for a while longer before I finally guide the cart down, settling us onto a relatively flat stretch of sand near a rocky outcrop.

“Alright,” I mutter, stretching my legs as I step off the floating slab. “We stop here for the night.”

Daring hops off after me, rolling her shoulders. “Good call. Flying all day takes it out of a mare.”

I quirk an eyebrow. “You’ve been sitting all day.”

She smirks. “Mental effort still counts.”

I roll my eyes, but I’m too tired to argue. Instead, I focus on setting up camp. I gather some firewood—more accurately, dense chunks of dried cactus and desert brush—and ignite them with a simple spark of magic. The flames catch quickly, casting flickering shadows against the rocks. I grab out some of the food the ponies of Mirrormire gifted me, hoofing some to Daring.

Daring plops down next to the fire, stretching out with a satisfied sigh. “Now this is what I’m talking about. Good meal, warm fire, and good company. You’re not half bad to travel with, you know.”

I snort. “High praise, coming from the great Daring Do.”

She smirks. “Damn right.”

Rachel remains standing, watching over the area like an unmoving sentinel.

Daring watches Rachel for a moment, then turns back to me, shifting slightly so she’s leaning against my side.

I blink.

She’s not exactly cuddling, but she is closer than before. Too close for it to be just casual.

I glance at her. “...Comfortable?”

She smirks, stretching again, her wing brushing against me. “What? You’re warm.”

I roll my eyes. “Uh-huh.”

She shifts again, now fully leaning against my shoulder. “Admit it,” she says, her voice playfully low. “You like me.”

I scoff. “I tolerate you.”

She chuckles, her breath warm against my coat. “Mmhm. Keep telling yourself that.”

I feel her tail flick lightly against my side.

Okay. This is getting weird.

I clear my throat, forcing some distance between us by leaning forward to poke at the fire. “Get some sleep, Daring. We’ve got another long day ahead.”

She hums, a lazy, amused sound. “Yeah, yeah.”

She doesn’t move away immediately, but eventually, she stretches out beside me, resting her head on her forelegs.

I sit by the fire for a while longer, listening to the crackling flames, watching the stars slowly blink into view.

Rachel stands at the edge of the camp, unmoving, ever-watchful.

Daring shifts slightly in her sleep, her tail brushing my side again.

I sigh.

The sun rises over the Badlands, bleeding orange and gold across the endless dunes. The air is crisp in the early morning, the last traces of the desert night’s coolness clinging to the sand before the heat sets in again. There's a large dead scorpion nearby, I guess Rachel took it out in our sleep.

I stretch, testing my new leg. The runes adjust instantly, balancing my weight without a hitch.

Daring stirs beside me, grumbling something incoherent as she lifts her head. Her mane is a mess—wild and tousled from sleep—but she doesn’t seem to care. She rolls onto her back with a satisfied groan, stretching her limbs in every direction before shooting me a smirk.

“Morning, genius.”

I arch an eyebrow. “You sure? You still look half-dead.”

She snickers. “Yeah, well. That’s what happens when you drag me across a desert.” She sits up, shaking out her wings, then gives me a slow once-over, her red eyes gleaming with amusement. “You’re up early.”

I shrug. “Had things to check.” I lift my leg for emphasis.

She watches the motion, tilting her head slightly. “Still weird seeing a rock move like that.”

I let out a short laugh. “Magic.”

She smirks. “Right, right. ‘Magic.’” She flicks her tail lazily before hopping to her hooves. “So. We moving out, or do you wanna sit around and admire the sunrise some more?”

I snort. “Let’s go.”

Rachel follows without a word as I hop onto the cart. Daring joins me, settling in beside me with far less personal space than yesterday. I don’t comment on it.

I send a pulse of magic through the runes.

“Activate: Northeast.”

The cart lifts smoothly, floating forward with a steady hum. The morning air is still mild, but I can already feel the heat rising. The landscape rolls beneath us, vast and empty.

Daring stretches out, letting the warm wind ruffle her feathers. She’s more relaxed now, her smirk turning lazy, almost smug.

She’s up to something.

I glance at her. “What?”

She grins. “Nothing.”

I narrow my eyes. “Bullshit.”

She chuckles, shifting her position so she’s very comfortably leaning against my side. “Relax, genius. Just getting cozy.”

I roll my eyes, but I don’t shove her off. “You’re awfully touchy for somepony who just met me.”

She shrugs, her wing brushing against my back. “What can I say? You’re growing on me.”

I snort. “Uh-huh.”

She tilts her head, giving me a slow, knowing smile. “Besides… A stallion with brains and magic? You don’t see that every day.”

I blink.

That… felt different.

I shoot her a look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Her smirk widens. “Nothing~.”

I frown, thinking about that for a second.

It’s subtle—so subtle I almost miss it—but there’s something in the way she talks, the way she leans into me like it’s expected, the way she teases without hesitation.

Something's different.

I don’t fully get it yet.

But Daring is looking at me like she’s on the hunt.

The cart hums steadily beneath us, floating smoothly across the desert air. The landscape stretches endlessly in every direction, the jagged rock formations and shifting dunes rolling by like an endless sea of gold and rust.

Daring shifts beside me, stretching her wings before tucking them in against her sides. “Not that I don’t enjoy a good scenic flight, but we could stand to pick up the pace. Feels like we’re crawling.”

I nod. “Yeah, I’ve been thinking the same thing.”

Now that I actually have all my limbs functioning—well, mostly—I can afford to increase speed. I glance down at the runes inscribed into the cart’s surface. Right now, they’re optimized for stability and controlled motion, not raw speed.

That’s easy enough to fix.

I shift my weight slightly. “I’m landing us for a bit. Gotta make some upgrades.”

Daring raises an eyebrow. “Upgrades?”

“You’ll see.”

I give the command. “Down.”

The cart descends smoothly, settling onto the cracked, dry earth with a faint thud. I hop off, my new leg compensating for the uneven terrain instantly. The movement is still a little weird—the way it automatically balances when I move forward—but I’m getting used to it.

Daring stretches as she steps down, rolling her shoulders. “Alright, genius. What’s the plan?”

I tap the surface of the cart. “Right now, it’s designed for smooth, steady movement. But that’s limiting our speed.” I levitate my rune book, flipping to the right section. “I need to carve in a few acceleration runes.”

She smirks. “That sounds fun.”

I kneel down, my magic flaring as I begin carving.

The acceleration rune goes in first—a modification to the existing propulsion runes, allowing for a stronger burst of force without sacrificing control. Then, I add an adjustment rune to let me fine-tune the speed mid-flight.

As I work, Daring watches, her red eyes flicking between the glowing inscriptions. “You know,” she muses, “I’ve seen some crazy artifacts, but I’ve never met somepony who could just make them.”

I shrug, focused on my work. “Magic’s not just about spells. It’s about understanding how things work.” I etch another line into the stone, refining the stabilization sigil. “A lot of ponies just throw magic at problems and hope it sticks.”

Daring smirks. “And you?”

“I fix things,” I say simply. “I don’t just brute force my way through.”

She tilts her head. “Is that why you’re such a pain in the flank?”

I snort. “Probably.”

She chuckles, watching as I carve a few more adjustments.

After a few minutes, I step back, inspecting my work. The cart hums faintly as the new runes settle in, their magic syncing with the existing runes.

“That should do it,” I mutter. “But if we’re going to be flying faster, we need actual seats.”

Daring’s ears perk. “Seats?”

“Unless you like the idea of getting flung off at high speed,” I quip.

She smirks. “I do like a little danger.”

I roll my eyes and get to work.

Using my magic, I add some mass, and adjust the stone surface, carving out two proper seats—angled slightly for comfort, with raised edges to keep us from sliding off. It’s still rock, but it’s better than the flat, featureless slab we’ve been sitting on.

Daring flops into hers as soon as I finish, testing it out. “Huh. Not bad. Could use some padding.”

I sigh. “I’ll get right on that when we aren’t in the middle of nowhere.”

She grins. “I’ll hold you to that.”

I settle into my own seat, adjusting my position until it feels right. The new configuration lets me brace myself better, making high-speed travel a lot safer.

Daring shifts beside me, flashing a smirk. “Alright, professor. Let’s see what this thing can do.”

I shake my head, amusement tugging at my lips. “Hang on.”

I send a pulse of magic through the runes.

“Activate: Acceleration.”

The cart lurches forward, the propulsion runes kicking in with far more force than before. The landscape blurs beneath us as we surge ahead, cutting through the desert air with a speed that makes Daring’s hat nearly fly off. It sticks me to the back of my seat, so I slightly lower the speed.

She whoops, grinning. “Now we’re moving!”

I smirk.

Yeah.

This is much better.

The desert rushes past us, a blur of sunbaked rock and shifting sand. The upgraded acceleration runes hum steadily, their magic keeping the cart smooth despite the sheer speed we’re moving at. Though I do have to limit our speed due to the lack of a barrier to deflect the wind.

Daring adjusts her hat, holding it in place with a hoof. She’s settled comfortably into her seat now, having gotten used to the pace. For a while, we just enjoy the flight, the wind rushing past, the heat less suffocating up here in the open air.

Then, after a stretch of silence, she speaks.

“So…” she starts casually, like she’s not about to dig into something I definitely don’t want to talk about. “How’d you lose the leg?”

I don’t look at her.

I focus on the horizon, watching the Badlands stretch endlessly ahead. “You don’t want to hear that story.”

She leans back, raising an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.”

I let out a slow breath through my nose.

I really don’t want to get into this.

But… I doubt I’ll ever see her again after this. Once we get back to civilization, we’ll go our separate ways. She’ll go back to adventuring, and I’ll go back to my house in Ponyville.

So, really—what’s the harm?

I exhale. “Tartarus.”

Daring’s ears twitch. “Come again?”

I glance at her. “I lost it in Tartarus.”

She blinks.

Then sits up slightly. “You’re joking.”

I shake my head. “Wish I was.”

She studies me, her expression shifting from mild curiosity to something more serious. “You’re telling me you—what—fell into Tartarus? Got attacked? Escaped?”

“Yeah,” I say simply. “All of the above.”

She lets out a slow whistle. “Alright, you have to give me more than that.”

I sigh, rubbing a hoof against my forehead. "Fine. But you're not gonna like it."

Daring Do leans forward, intrigued. "Try me."

I exhale, staring at the horizon. "You know about the Canterlot wedding invasion, right?"

She snorts. "Who doesn't? It was huge news. Changeling Queen infiltrates the royal wedding, brainwashes the groom, takes down Princess Celestia herself. Then—bam—the whole swarm gets blasted out of Canterlot in one massive love-powered shockwave." She glances at me. "Don't tell me you were there."

I smirk, but it doesn't reach my eyes. "I was there."

Daring's ears flick up. "What?"

I nod, my expression unreadable. "Friend of a friend got me in. I wasn't supposed to do much—just guard a bit. But when everything started going south, I figured I might as well make myself useful."

Daring squints. "Alright. And?"

I inhale slowly, the memories creeping back, sharp and vivid. "I stalled the queen."

Her brow furrows. "What, like—fought her?"

I shake my head. "No. That would've been stupid. I wasn't there to win, I was there to disrupt. I needed her focused on me, needed her distracted enough to give the others time."

Daring folds her forelegs. "How'd you pull that off?"

I glance at her, my smirk turning sharp. "By making myself look too badass to ignore."

She raises an eyebrow. "Oh, please."

"I'm serious." I chuckle dryly. "I took down one of her guards in front of her. Clean. Quick. No hesitation."

Daring's amusement dims slightly, but she stays quiet.

"And then," I continue, "I said some things to throw her off her game."

"Like what?"

I tilt my head slightly. "I told her we were a lot alike."

Daring snorts. "That's usually her line."

"I know." I grin. "That's what made it work."

She shakes her head, but I can tell she's impressed. "Alright, fine. So you played mind games with the queen. Then what?"

I lean back, my voice turning a little distant. "I made myself seem... dangerous. More than just a rogue element. I made her think I had a bigger plan, that I was a real threat to her control."

Daring tilts her head. "How?"

I meet her gaze, a flicker of amusement in my eyes. "By telling her that after I took the city, I was going to claim her as my queen."

Daring's mouth drops open. "You what?"

I chuckle. "She didn't see that one coming, either."

She sputters, processing. "You—you—looked Queen Chrysalis in the eye and told her you were going to take her as your queen?"

"Yep."

Daring shakes her head, half laughing, half disbelieving. "You’re insane."

"Worked, though." I smirk. "She was too confused, too pissed off to think straight. Gave Cadence the opening she needed to do her spell."

Daring hums. "Alright. So you helped save the day. But that doesn't explain the leg."

I sigh, my expression darkening. "Because she—Princess Cadence—betrayed me."

Daring blinks. "What?"

I exhale sharply. "I freed her. I gave her the chance to power up that shield spell with her fiancé. And when it went off—when it launched every changeling out of the city—it launched me too."

Daring frowns. "Wait—hold on. You're telling me—"

"She hit me with the same blast." My voice is bitter. "Like I was just another monster."

She stares at me. "...Shit."

"Yeah."

A silence stretches between us.

She watches me, her face unreadable, before she finally speaks. "And you woke up in the Badlands."

"With all my legs broken," I confirm. "Then I got swallowed up by a sand pit and ended up in Tartarus."

Daring exhales, rubbing her forehead. "And after all that, you still made it out?"

"More or less." I gesture at my prosthetic. "One leg lighter. Went bad while healing, had to cut it off myself."

She shakes her head, an odd mix of disbelief and respect on her face. "That is the most insane thing I’ve ever heard."

I smirk slightly. "And you’re saying that."

She huffs a laugh, but it’s subdued. "Yeah, well. I’d be pissed too."

I shrug, not wanting to dwell on it. "Not much to do about it now."

She watches me for a long moment. Then, finally, she nods.

"Still," she says, voice softer than before. "That’s a hell of a thing to survive."

I don’t respond.

I just keep my eyes on the horizon, the hum of the cart filling the silence between us.

Redstone Gulch appears on the horizon like an oasis of civilization in the middle of desolation. The town is built against the side of a red rock canyon, the structures a mix of sunbaked wood and weathered stone. It’s not large, but it’s lively—ponies, griffons, and even a few diamond dogs move through the dusty streets, their voices mingling in a low hum of trade and conversation.

I bring the cart down carefully, adjusting the descent with a flick of magic. The floating slab settles just outside the main street, dust kicking up as we touch ground.

Daring stretches as she hops off, rolling her shoulders. "Finally. Solid ground."

I dismount more carefully, stepping onto my prosthetic, feeling the weight distribution adjust automatically beneath me. "First stop’s the healer," I remind her.

She sighs. "Yeah, yeah."

We make our way through the town, drawing a few curious looks. I can’t blame them—between my runes and Rachel looming behind me like a living statue, we’re probably the strangest thing they’ve seen in a while.

The healer’s clinic is a modest building tucked near the canyon wall, a wooden sign with a red cross hanging outside. We step in, the air noticeably cooler inside.

A unicorn stallion in a white coat greets us, adjusting his spectacles as he looks us over. “What’s the problem?”

Daring gestures to her wing. “Sprained it pretty bad.”

He nods, motioning her to a cot. “Easy fix. 50 bits.”

I reach into my saddlebag, already pulling out the payment, but before I can hand it over, Daring’s hoof slaps mine away.

“Uh, no,” she says firmly, reaching into her shirt pocket. “I can’t have a stallion paying for me. That would hurt my pride.”

I raise an eyebrow as she pulls out her own bits and drops them onto the healer’s desk. "That so?"

She nods, grinning. “I have a reputation, you know.”

I snort but don’t argue.

The healer’s magic flares to life, golden light weaving around Daring’s wing. She winces at first, but within seconds, her feathers straighten, the muscles realigning properly. She flexes it, testing the range of motion.

“All set,” the healer says, stepping back. “Try not to stress it too much today.”

Daring flaps once, then grins. “Good as new.”

I turn to leave, but she grabs my foreleg. “Hey.”

I glance back. “What?”

She hesitates, her usual confidence flickering slightly. “Stick around a bit?”

I sigh. “Daring…”

“Come on, Redstone Gulch isn’t so bad. We could grab a drink, find an inn—” She stops herself, clearing her throat. “Just for a little while.”

I shake my head. “I was just sticking around long enough to make sure you were okay. Now I’m heading on to Dodge City.”

Her ears dip just slightly before she schools her expression back into her usual smirk. “Alright, alright. Can’t keep a genius cooped up too long, huh?”

“Something like that.”

She sighs dramatically. “Fine. But don’t think you’re getting rid of me that easily. I will find you.”

And before I can react, she darts in, pressing a quick, heated kiss to my cheek.

I freeze.

She pulls back, winking. “See you around, Archmage.”

Then, with a powerful flap of her newly healed wings, she’s airborne, disappearing over the rooftops before I can even find words.

I blink.

Rachel, standing at my side, tilts her head at me.

“…Shut up,” I mutter, climbing back onto the cart.

I fire up the runes, setting my course for Dodge City.

Time to move on.

The journey to Dodge City is uneventful.

The wind sweeps through the open plains, the dry, cracked dirt shifting into firmer, well-traveled roads. The stars above are endless, untouched by city lights, stretching out in a way that makes the world feel far too big and far too empty at the same time.

I fly through the night, stopping only to rest briefly because I’m tired. Not physically, but mentally.

It gives me time to think.

Do I even want to go back?

That thought lingers, more than I expect it to.

Ponyville. My house. My life before all this.

But if I don’t go back… where would I go?

The Badlands are behind me, Tartarus is buried in my past, and every road ahead leads somewhere I’ve never been. I could vanish if I wanted to. Start over.

But would that be better?

By the time I reach Dodge City, I still don’t have an answer.

The town sprawls out beneath me, a true Old West settlement straight out of an era that should be long past. Wooden buildings, long porches, hitching posts—even a dusty main street wide enough for stagecoaches and wagons to roll through.

I bring the cart down, landing at the edge of town, dismissing the flight rune as I step onto solid ground.

Ponies move about, dressed in loose, practical clothes to combat the heat. I briefly wonder why they don't just forgo them. A few give me curious glances, my self-moving stone leg and looming golem companion drawing more than a few double takes.

I ignore it, looking around.

Then I see it.

A saloon.

An honest-to-Celestia saloon, with swinging doors and everything.

I grin.

"I've always wanted to bust in a saloon."

I thrust the swinging doors open with magic, stepping inside with the kind of controlled confidence that villains always have in movies.

The inside is dimly lit, warm, and lively. Ponies sit at round tables, gambling, drinking, laughing. A piano plays in the corner, the tune upbeat but lazy.

Everypony turns to look as I enter.

I walk forward, my stone leg moving with its automatic precision, my golem shadowing me like an ever-present specter.

I expect them to see something dangerous.

Something intimidating.

But instead, there’s a different kind of tension.

A shift in the air.

I can’t quite place it.

I make my way to the bar, ordering the first thing that comes to mind. “Mead.”

The bartender—a sturdy earth pony stallion with a graying mane—raises an eyebrow but nods, pouring me a glass.

I take a sip, glancing around.

That’s when she slides up beside me.

A mare settles onto the stool next to me, her presence casual, like she’s been waiting for me to show up. She’s got a coat the color of sunbaked wheat, with a wild auburn mane that falls just past her shoulders. A well-worn hat sits tilted over one ear, and her emerald eyes flick up at me with interest.

“Well now,” she drawls, her voice thick with a country accent, smooth as honey but with an unmistakable bite. “Ain’t every day a stallion like you waltzes into town.”

I pause mid-sip, side-eyeing her. “A stallion like me?”

She leans an elbow on the bar, giving me a slow once-over. “All broody ‘n mysterious. That’s a look, sugar.”

I blink.

That was… a line.

A flirtatious line.

At me.

I glance at my reflection in the polished surface of the bar.

I look like I belong in a villain’s wanted poster—hair frayed from travel, dark eyes half-lidded from lack of sleep, my prosthetic leg shifting and adjusting on its own. And Rachel, looming behind me like a silent guardian made of stone.

“…You sure?” I ask, turning back to her, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t exactly scream ‘approachable.’”
She tips her hat back, letting me see more of those bright green eyes. “Oh, sugar, if a stallion sets hoof in a place like this, rest assured somepony’s gonna mosey on over.”

I blink slowly, taking another sip of mead. “Is that so?”

“Mmm-hmm.” She leans in, not shy at all about bridging personal space. “Name’s Meadow Lily. An’ you?”

I cough softly, trying to gather myself. “Kinetic Flux.”

She smiles, showing a hint of teeth. “Well, Mr. Flux, you sure do make an entrance. That fancy rock leg of yours, an’… what in tarnation is that behind you?” She points to Rachel, who stands silently at my flank.

“My golem,” I say, watching Meadow Lily’s reaction. She doesn’t flinch, just takes in Rachel’s towering form with keen curiosity.

“A golem, huh?” She nods, impressed. “You sure are full of surprises.” Her gaze flicks back to me, something openly appraising there. “I like surprises.”

I exhale slowly, processing the sudden attention. “I’m just getting a drink. Didn’t expect… this.”

She chuckles, a low, warm sound. “Oh, honey, a handsome stallion like you comes strollin’ into a saloon and you think nopony’s gonna notice?” Her tone suggests it’s the most obvious fact in the world.

I squint slightly. “I… guess?”

Meadow Lily smirks, leaning an elbow on the bar. “You ‘guess’? Darlin’, you look like some mysterious loner blowin’ into town, cloak billowin’, fancy magic hummin’. That’s quite the sight to see.”

I don't have a cloak on.

I glance around. A few other mares in the saloon are giving me side glances too, whispering and eyeing me from a distance. The stallions, few that they are, are going about their business—some gambling, some chatting—but the mares look… intrigued.

I shift uncomfortably on my stool. “I thought I looked more… villainous.”

Meadow Lily’s grin widens. “Villainous? Oh, sugar, you look like trouble, sure enough. But y’know what they say about trouble.”

I tilt my head. “No. What do they say?”

Her eyes spark with mischief. “That the right mare just loves to chase it.”

I stare, trying to piece together this sudden wave of attention.

Meadow Lily notices my confusion and raises an eyebrow. “Somethin’ the matter, sugarcube?”

I quickly school my features into something neutral. “Uh, no. Just… not used to this.”

She chuckles, taking a swig of her own drink. “Well, get used to it.’”

I open my mouth, then close it, faintly aware that my ears are burning. “Right,” I manage, knocking back another gulp of mead. “So… you come here often?”

She cackles, slapping the bar. “Oh, that’s rich. Don’t you worry, sugar, I’ll do the smooth talkin’. You just sip that mead an’ look pretty.”

I sputter. “I—”

Meadow Lily just pats my shoulder, winking. “You’ll figure out how it works soon enough, pretty colt.”

A small, stunned laugh escapes me. “Can’t say I’ve ever been in this situation.”

She smirks. “Don’t look so spooked, now.” Her gaze flicks to Rachel, then back to me. “Your friend here doesn’t mind, does she?”

Rachel remains unmoving, carved irises unblinking as she surveys the room. “She’s not really the jealous type,” I say, voice a bit dry.

Meadow Lily lifts her glass in a mock toast. “Well then, here’s to us, handsome.” She downs the rest of her drink in one go.

And I… slowly sip mine, still grappling with the realization that I'm probably the one who should be careful about having too many drinks in this situation.

I groan.

Everything hurts.

My head is pounding, my mouth is dry, and my body feels like I got hit by a train. A very soft, warm, suspiciously comfortable train.

I crack an eye open.

Sunlight filters through wooden slats, casting golden beams across the room. The sheets are… softer than I remember. And the air smells faintly of sweat, whiskey, and something very distinctly not mine.

My stomach sinks.

I turn my head.

Meadow Lily is already up, standing near a wooden dresser, fastening a leather strap around her. Her wild auburn mane is slightly tamed, tucked behind her ears as she adjusts her work vest. A well-worn hat rests nearby, within easy reach.

She notices me stirring and smirks at me in the mirror.

“Mornin’, sugar.”

My brain grinds to a slow, agonizing halt.

I stare at her.

She smirks wider.

I glance down.

The sheets are barely covering me.

I glance at her again.

She finishes fastening her vest and turns fully, stretching lazily. The movement makes her muscles shift.

I want to die.

I definitely want to die.

Something in my expression must be entertaining, because she chuckles. “Feelin’ alright there, darlin’?”

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to remember how exactly this happened.

Flashes come back in patches.

The saloon. Drinks. Too many drinks. Her laughing, leaning against me, that damn smirk. More drinks. Her teasing. My face burning. More drinks.

Then—

Then I remember hooves.

A lot of hooves.

Her pulling me up the stairs.

My brain aborts that train of thought immediately.

I groan, dragging a pillow over my face.

“Ohhh, fuck.”

Meadow Lily laughs again, and it’s too pleased.

She steps closer, tilting her head down to my level. “Don’t tell me y’aint used to wakin’ up next to a mare, sugar.”

I groan louder.

She hums. “Mighty shy for a stallion who was all over me last night.”

I die.

Buried under blankets, I try to process the existential horror of the situation.

I feel used.

I peek out from under the pillow, my voice hoarse. “…We definitely—”

“Oh, yeah,” she confirms, adjusting her hat. “A few times, actually.”

She leans down, close enough that I can smell whiskey on her breath. “And sugar, you enjoyed yourself.”

I whimper.

She laughs, clapping my shoulder like this is the funniest thing she’s ever seen.

I sit up violently, gripping my head as my skull punishes me for it. “Ow.”

“Yeahhh,” Meadow Lily drawls, trotting toward the door. “You had yourself a mighty fine evenin’—‘til the Aqua Vitae caught up with ya.” She pauses at the doorway, turning back. “Ain’t often I meet a stallion that can keep up with me.”

I rub my face, still piecing myself together. “I—I don’t normally—”

“Uh-huh.” She smirks. “That’s what they all say.”

I groan, dragging a hoof down my face. “Please stop.”

She chuckles but doesn’t press it further. Instead, she adjusts her hat, grabs a work satchel, and makes for the door.

“Got work to get to,” she says. “You take your time gettin’ yourself together, handsome.”

I blink at her. “Wait, so you’re just—leaving?”

She raises an eyebrow. “Well, yeah. Ain’t like I expect ya to cook breakfast or somethin’.”

I stare.

She tips her hat with a lazy grin. “If y’ever come back through Dodge, sugar, you look me up.”

Then, just like that, she’s gone.

I am alone.

Hungover.

And absolutely, completely re-evaluating my life choices.

I flop back onto the bed.

Rachel is never going to let me live this down.

I sit up too fast again, groaning as my head reminds me that I am, in fact, still hungover.

Then another realization hits me like a brick.

“…Where the fuck is Rachel?”

Panic sets in immediately.

I shove myself off the bed, nearly tripping over my own legs as I scramble toward the door. My magic fumbles with the handle, still sluggish from the aftereffects of last night, but I get it open—

And there she is.

Standing.

Waiting.

Right outside the door.

Rachel.

My ever-present, ever-watchful, silent-as-the-grave golem daughter? Bodyguard? Question mark?

I freeze.

She tilts her head.

Slowly.

Like she’s assessing me.

Like she knows.

My stomach drops.

I stare at her.

She stares at me.

For a long, long moment, we just stand there.

Then, finally, I break.

I drag a hoof down my face, exhaling sharply. "If I’m supposed to be some kind of parent here… I’m definitely the worst.”

Rachel doesn’t respond.

Because she doesn’t have to.

The weight of her judgment is palpable.

I groan, rubbing my temple. “Don’t look at me like that.”

She tilts her head slightly in the other direction.

Like she’s evaluating that statement.

I sigh and step past her, moving stiffly, my muscles still deeply unhappy with me.

Rachel follows.

Silent.

Unyielding.

Unforgiving.

I resist the urge to die inside.

At least until I get some food.

I step out of Meadow’s house, the morning sun doing absolutely nothing to help the lingering fog in my head. The town is already alive—ponies moving through the streets, carts rolling past, the distant hum of conversations filling the air.

Rachel follows.

Still silent.

Still hovering at my side like a stone specter.

I ignore her.

What I don’t ignore is the unmistakable scent of food drifting through the air—something warm, buttery, pancakes.

I turn instinctively, scanning the street until my eyes land on a small diner tucked between two larger buildings. Dodge Eats.

Food.

I’m getting food.

The bell jingles as I step inside, the air immediately welcoming with the scent of syrup and coffee. The place isn’t too crowded—mostly locals, chatting over their breakfasts.

Rachel follows me in.

A few ponies glance up at her. One stallion does a double take.

I ignore them and make my way to a booth, sliding into the seat. Rachel sits next to me, the weight of her presence immediately noticeable as the bench creaks slightly under her mass.

A waitress—a pale blue earth pony with her mane in a tight bun—wanders over with a practiced smile. “Mornin’, sugar. What’ll it be?”

I don’t even look at the menu. “Pancakes. Big stack.”

She nods. “You want syrup with that?”

I blink. “Who orders pancakes without syrup?”

She chuckles. “You’d be surprised.”

I shake my head. “Yeah, uh—syrup. And coffee.”

“Comin’ right up.” She turns away, disappearing behind the counter.

Rachel, who had been still up until now, reaches out and starts playing with my mane.

I freeze.

She doesn’t braid it or anything. Just touches it, running her stone fingers through the strands like she’s idly inspecting them.

I sigh. “Rachel. Stop.”

She doesn’t.

I let my head drop onto the table.

“…Fine. Whatever.”

I feel like somepony’s doll.

A few minutes pass before the waitress returns, setting down my food and coffee. As I dig in—because I need this—Rachel continues her mane fixation, completely ignoring personal space.

After a few bites, I glance at the waitress. “Where do ponies find jobs around here?”

She raises an eyebrow. “Depends on what you’re lookin’ for. We got a job board right outside, usually got somethin’ pinned up.”

I nod. “Classic.”

She smirks. “Ain’t broke, don’t fix it.”

I finish my pancakes, leaving a few bits on the table before stepping back outside. Rachel, of course, follows.

Just beside the saloon, I spot the job board—a big wooden structure covered in pinned flyers. I scan over them, eyes flicking across various listings.

Most are simple, local work.

Unicorn Wanted: Help Lifting Equipment (5 bits per hour)

Ice Delivery Needed (10 bits a block)

Fence Repair—Will Pay in Meals

Assistant Needed for Storefront Displays

Nothing too complicated.

I tilt my head, considering.

I could make some quick cash while I’m here.

I don’t need to leave just yet.

The idea of not rushing off immediately, of just being somewhere for a while, is surprisingly… appealing.

I glance up at the skyline, the desert warmth settling around me.

Maybe I’ll stay.

At least for a bit.

I take down the Ice job and head to the address, which leads me to an old earth pony stallion named Cold Stone. He’s sweating bullets in the morning sun, standing outside his shop.

“You’re here about the ice?” he asks, looking me up and down.

“Yeah. Still need it?”

“Absolutely. You can actually make ice?” There’s skepticism in his tone, but he wouldn’t have posted the job if he had a better option. He explains ice is hard to get in the savanna region. No unicorns specialized in cold magic, no natural frozen lakes, and no storage that keeps it from melting before delivery.

“Don't worry, I can make ice,” I say confidently. “Give me a few minutes.”

I take to the sky, flying towards the large reservoir on the outskirts of town—the town’s main water supply. It’s a still, reflective pool, well-maintained and clean enough that even I wouldn’t be afraid to drink from it.

Hovering just above the surface, I channel my telekinesis into the molecules, slowing their movement, sapping their energy. The temperature plummets as I push it into a lattice, and within seconds, sheets of ice form. I keep going, compressing and sculpting, until I have ten solid blocks, each about the size of a hay bale.

With a flick of telekinesis, I lift them onto my cart, arranging them so they won’t shift mid-flight. Each block glistens under the sun, already beginning to sweat, but they’ll last long enough.

By the time I get back to Cold Stone’s shop, he’s gaping. “Well, I’ll be… You actually did it.”

I unload the blocks onto his waiting platform, letting them thud into place. “That’s the job, right?”

He grins. “That’s the job. Here.” He tosses me a pouch of 100 bits, a decent payout for maybe fifteen minutes of work.

“Pleasure doing business,” I say, pocketing the bits.

“You’re something else, Mage.” Cold Stone shakes his head, still in disbelief. “Might have more work for you soon.”

I smirk. “Just put it on the board.”

With that, I take off, heading back into town. Easy money.

Now, what’s next?

With my pockets heavier, I make my way toward the Dodge City Post Office. It’s a dusty, sun-bleached building with a faded sign and a bored-looking pegasus stallion behind the counter.

Walking in, I remind myself that almost nopony here knows who I am. I’m not the famous “Archmage Flux” out here. Just another unicorn passing through, which is an incredible change of pace. Except for Meadow Lily, who I'm pretending doesn't exist. That suits me just fine.

I step up to the counter. “I need some scrolls, ink, and tags.”

The pegasus raises a brow but nods, rummaging under the counter before dropping a small bundle onto the wooden surface. “That’ll be five bits.”

I slide him the coins and take my supplies to one of the public writing desks. With a deep breath, I unroll the first scroll, dip my quill in ink, and carefully write:

I lived, bitch.
– Kinetic Fuckyou Flux

Simple. Direct. Beautiful.

I repeat this three more times, writing the same thing on each scroll. No context. No further elaboration.

Then, I take the small name tags and attach them to each scroll:

Twilight Sparkle
Princess Cadence
Princess Celestia
Princess Luna

I stare at the scrolls, a satisfied smirk creeping onto my face. Some ponies would write heartfelt letters. Some would explain what happened, clear up misunderstandings, maybe even apologize.

I am not some ponies.

Cadence, in particular, can go straight to Tartarus. She probably feels bad about what happened, but she should. Betraying me, launching me into the Badlands, and leaving me to die? Yeah, no amount of “oops” makes up for that. Twilight and Celestia might have just assumed I was dead, but they never checked. Luna? No clue if she even knew, but she’s getting one anyway.

Satisfied, I roll each scroll up, seal them, and take them back to the counter. The pegasus stallion eyes the tags before shrugging. “You wanna pay for express or standard delivery?”

“Express.” I slap down the extra bits. I want those scrolls in their hooves as soon as possible.

He stamps them and tosses them in a bin. “Should be in Canterlot by tomorrow, Ponyville by the evening.”

Perfect.

Now, for the only letter that actually matters.

I unroll a fresh scroll and dip my quill again, carefully writing a much more detailed message:

Sweetie Belle,
Hey kid, still alive. I’m in Dodge City right now. I got very betrayed, fell into Tartarus, crawled out, and now I’m here. I’m taking a break before heading back to Ponyville. I’ll tell you more later.

In the meantime, you have one task: Cause Problems On Purpose.

Be creative, but don’t get caught. You’re a genius. I expect results.

See you soon,
Kinetic Flux

P.S. You’d be proud of me. I annoyed at least one princess today.

I roll up the scroll, attach the tag with Sweetie Belle’s name, and drop it in the bin.

That’s enough productivity for one morning.

I step out of the post office, stretching under the midday sun. My work here is done. Ice delivered, messages sent, and, most importantly, I have successfully irritated at least one princess today.

Now, I just need to not do anything for a while.

Dodge City isn’t a big place, but it’s got a handful of inns. I pick the one that looks the least likely to have bed bugs—The Rusty Horseshoe. The wooden sign creaks in the breeze as I push open the door.

Inside, it’s quiet. A couple of ponies sit at tables, sipping drinks and chatting. The innkeeper, an older earth pony mare with a faded red coat and graying mane, looks up from the counter.

“Looking for a room?” she asks.

I nod. “Yeah, just for the night.”

“Ten bits.”

I pass her the coins, and she hands me a key. “Upstairs, second door on the right. Breakfast in the morning if you’re up for it.”

“Got it.”

I make my way upstairs, unlock the door, and step inside. It’s simple—a bed, a small desk, a window with the shutters slightly ajar. I drop my saddlebags, flop onto the mattress, and sigh.

This? This is luxury.

For the first time in what feels like forever, I’m not surviving in a hellscape, not fighting for my life, and not being forced into some bullshit that isn't my problem,.

I roll onto my side, staring at the ceiling.

I should probably plan my next move. Figure out what to do from here. Maybe find more work?

…Yeah. Later.

Right now, I’m just going to close my eyes and—

Out.

I don’t do much the next couple of days. It’s a nice change of pace.

Dodge City is the kind of place where nothing happens unless you go looking for it, which suits me fine. I sleep in, eat decent food, and mostly just exist without worrying about survival.

But the highlight? Teaching Rachel.

She’s always been… present. Ever since I brought her to life, she’s been at my side. Quiet, watchful, efficient. But there’s a difference between a tool and a person, and I’m trying to push her into the latter. She’s learning. Slowly.

I set up a quiet place outside of town, an empty stretch of desert where we won’t be bothered. Rachel kneels beside me, waiting. Her blank stone lips don’t move, but her eyes watch me, unblinking.

I’ve made modifications before, but this is different. This isn’t just another combat function.

This is language.

I sit in front of her and tap my own throat. “Alright. Let’s start simple.”

I make a sound. “Ahhh.”

She stares.

I try again. “Ahhh.”

Rachel copies me.

It’s rough. The rune produces the sound, but there’s a delay, and it warbles strangely, like an old phonograph playing at the wrong speed. I nod encouragingly. “Good. Again.”

“Ahhh,” she repeats, still distorted.

We work through the vowels. “Ee,” “Oh,” “Uh.” She struggles, but I can see her learning. She's adjusting herself, refining.

Then, after what feels like hours, she stops.

She just stares at me, the rune flickering wildly. I wait.

And then—

“Kin... et... ic.”

I freeze.

She said my name.

It’s clunky, the tone is uneven, and it comes out as a statement rather than just a sound. But it’s my name.

Rachel stares at me like she’s waiting for something. I realize I’m just gaping at her.

I exhale, nodding. “Yeah. That’s me.”

She nods back.

I reach up, placing my hoof against the cool stone of her cheek. “Good job.”

She shivers.

We move on to more words. Basic ones.

I hold up a rock. “Rock.”

Rachel stares. “Rock.”

I nod. “Yes.”

I tap my chest. “Kinetic.”

She mimics the motion, tapping her own chest. “Rachel.”

I grin. “Yeah, that’s you.”

She learns “sky.” “Sand.” “Cold.” She starts understanding what they mean, not just repeating sounds. She looks at the sky when I say “sky.” She touches the sand when I say “sand.”

And then she discovers negotiation.

Halfway through the lesson, she stops responding. She knows the answers, but she just sits there, motionless. Her rune flickers, almost expectant.

I raise a brow. “Rachel?”

Nothing.

I sigh and, trying to motivate, coo at her. “Come on, Rachel, you’re doing so good.”

The rune pulses, and she immediately says, “Rock.”

I blink.

I hold up another object. “Sand.”

Silence.

I narrow my eyes. “Rachel.”

She stares, waiting.

I groan, rubbing my face. “You’re really gonna make me do this?”

Her rune pulses again.

I exhale. “Rachel, you’re such a smart girl.”

“Sand,” she immediately replies.

Oh. Oh, no.

She’s figured out that I'll coo at her to motivate her to get the answer right. And she’s withholding answers until she gets praised.

I have created a monster.

A very cute monster, but a monster nonetheless.

I know I should break the habit now, but damn it, it’s adorable.

Rachel may not have a real expression, but I can feel the smugness radiating off her.

She’s learning.

And honestly?

I’m proud of her.

I’ve been taking it easy for a few days, but I know it won’t last.

They’re going to come for me.

Twilight, Celestia, Cadence, Luna—at least one of them is going to track me down the second they get my letter. I don’t know how long it’ll take, but I’d rather not be here when they show up.

I need to move.

Back to Ponyville.

It’s not my first choice, but it’s where I built my reputation. It’s where Sweetie Belle is. It’s where I was the town mage before everything went to hell. I can slip back into my role, keep things normal. Besides, Ponyville is a buffer—if the princesses want to confront me, they’ll have to come there.

My flying slab—my ride through Tartarus, my lifeline—has been too useful to just abandon. But I can’t take it whole. It's too big. So, I cut it up.

Using my magic, I slice it into several smaller pieces, each compact enough to fit into a wooden crate. The stone still hums with runic energy, but broken up like this, it won’t look like anything important. Just rocks.

I check it as baggage at the train station, slapping down the necessary bits to have it sent ahead to Ponyville. The station worker barely glances at the crate before shrugging. Dodge City isn’t exactly a place where ponies ask questions.

That just leaves one more thing.

I find a quiet spot near the train station, far enough from prying eyes. My runed prosthetic has been useful, but it’s also a liability. If the princesses think I’m still combat-capable, they’ll try to throw me at another problem.

If I look crippled, they’ll leave me alone.

So, I do what I have to do.

I brace myself, focus my magic on the connection point, and sever the prosthetic. The stone cap remains in place, sealing the old wound. I hiss through my teeth at the phantom pain, my body remembering what it felt like to lose that limb the first time.

I give the detached prosthetic one last look before stuffing it into my bag. If I ever need it again, I’ll reattach it. But for now?

I’m just another crippled unicorn.

I grab my ticket, haul myself onto the train, and take a seat near the back. Rachel sits beside me, silent as ever.

As the train rumbles to life and pulls away from Dodge City, I lean back, closing my eyes.

I don’t know what’s waiting for me in Ponyville.

But I do know this:

They won’t expect me to fight if I can’t stand.