Lyra, dear, sweet, beautiful Lyra has come with me up into my room. Which is to say, Sweetie Belle’s room. At the top of our little house at the bottom of the hill, she cast her sound blocking spell, giving me a chance to speak candidly. This brilliant mare thought up a scheme so foolproof that even I couldn’t screw it up. By insinuating herself as my magic tutor, she could get private access to me freely, to talk about what happened to me, and what to do about it.

And, about strange creatures, as appears to be her forte.

Unfortunately, I seem to be one of those strange creatures, even stranger in that she never has seen one of mankind before. And here I am in a little unicorn’s body, feeling really intimidated by the intensity in which Lyra—that Professor Lyra comports herself. And she’s asking about my life... my old life. The one I never, ever want to see again. I have to tell her, but... but it’s so horrible, so what can I say?

“Humans have no magic,” I tell Lyra dully, in the body of a young unicorn, in Sweetie Belle’s voice. “The world I come from, there’s no magic at all. It’s a terrible way to live... it’s like you’re a character in a book, and all you know is that after the story’s been read, it’ll be burned to ashes and nobody will ever be able to read you again.”

Biting my lip, I say, “A-and I know how stories like this go. Ponies find out that I’m human, and I-I can’t stay, because they say my place is at my home. They make me go b-back, because I can’t be Sweetie Belle forever, a-and then I wake up in my old life, and it’s like this amazing place was all just a... dream.

“You don’t know how horrible it is, b-because it looks like nothing’s wrong!” I say, looking to Lyra pleadingly. “It looks like my life is fine, and I’m not dying yet, but I’m not alive! I just don’t want to g-go back to that. I can’t. So please don’t try to tell me it’s my home. It’s... not a good home for anypony.”

Lyra adopts a half smile, but loses it again. “Just what did you go through, little filly?” she asks in not to much an upset, but a mystified tone. “It sounds really, really bad. But um... is that why you... came here, and took Sweetie’s body?”

“Ugh,” the real Sweetie says, “You should stop talking about how bad things were, and just tell her it was my fault. I was the one who found you and said to begin extraction.”

Shaking my head lightly, I say, “No, I just woke up like this. I didn’t think I was ever going to escape. But somehow, I think... Sweetie Belle saved me. That’s what she is saying at any rate. She wanted to help me, and something went... wrong, and now I’m here. This.

“...her.”

“Sweetie Belle, you... I mean she might be a very special pony,” Lyra says with a skeptical eyebrow raised, “But she doesn’t have the power to pull somepony who isn’t a pony from another world, and possess herself with her soul.”

“I think the stuff in the Badlands gave her that power,” I say with a flash of recognition in Lyra’s golden eyes. “That’s how she did it, and then it um... died out. Twilight was complaining about it... shorting out something. I think my horn surge broke it.

“Her horn surge, I mean,” I correct myself, looking away. “Sorry, I’m just... really messed up. I don’t know how to be her, but I can’t stop being her.”

“What do you mean being her?” Lyra asks, squinting at me. “I thought you couldn’t read her mind?”

“It’s like I can’t read her mind,” I say unsurely, trying to make myself at least somewhat understandable, “But I feel her feelings. Like um, I love my—her mom and dad, and Rarity. But I shouldn’t, since I’m not her. And her friends just seem more familiar than they should be. And I get... eheh, you know... around... stallions?”

Lyra gives a disbelieving look at that, and says dryly, “Really? At your age, I wasn’t anything more than just a shy giggly mess around stallions. Are you saying—”

“Yes, that’s it!” I bleat out triumphantly, then blush and say, “Y-yes that’s how I feel and um... not sure if it’s normal to be a-attracted to them at this age.”

I guess I should be relieved that what I say makes Lyra laugh.

“Why would you think that, filly?” she asks amusedly, “Those feelings are completely natural. I know it’s confusing to you now, but when you get older you’ll learn that those feelings are very important for finding yourself a special somepony.”

Lyra turns her head aside then and grumbles to no one in particular, “At least in theory...”

“Rarity said something like that too,” I say in realization. “I thought she was just teasing me, but... fillies really feel that? I thought only m-mares did.”

“Filly, fillies and mares aren’t all that different,” Lyra says, putting a hoof on my back and scooting up next to me. “You don’t wake up one day and suddenly say ‘I like stallions!’ They’re just really... likeable, you know? Except the jerks of course.”

Lyra herself blushes then and looks away from me again, saying, “I–I’m not the pony you should be asking about relationships and... stuff like that. My special somepony is my work, and I’m perfectly fine with that. I mean, I know the biology of it, but... I guess all I can say is, if you’re not feeling feverish, and you don’t have any sort of swelling or redness, and you’re not uh, p-presenting for stallions, then you probably don’t have anything to worry about. That’ll come in time, and it really sounds a lot worse than it is, but you don’t seem like a specially... unusual filly to me. Except for that part about the no magic thing.

“You can’t be serious about that,” Lyra continues, standing and facing me again with an honest disbelief in her eyes. “I don’t care if you’re not from Equestria. There is no way that would even be possible, no matter what world—”

She cuts off, and her eyes widen. Lyra’s horn flashes bright gold for a moment, and I get a feel like everything is crumbling around me. Blinking and looking around, I see Dad’s pushing his way in through the door to my room.

“And that’s how you achieve magical focus, Sweetie,” Lyra says loudly, drawing my attention to her again. “Once your horn is lit, you can shape your magic form into a calming wave, that lessens the chaos around you, and makes it easier to build power, without any fluctuations.”

Wow, that’s fascinating. I wonder if—some pony nudges me from behind. I turn and—oh yeah, Dad’s here. He’s floating a plate and two glasses behind him, saying, “Hey Sweetums, I thought you two might like a little snack while you work on your lessons.”

“Thanks, mister Belle!” Lyra says happily, while I look at him like a deer caught in headlights, her golden magic creeping around the tray and floating it closer to her. “I might be a ‘big name Canterlot professor’ but I’ll never turn down free cookies!”

“Consider it courtesy of my lovely wife,” he says with a partial bow... as much as a pony can do by sweeping a foreleg out before him.

“Oh, um... yeah r-right,” Lyra says a little flustered by the gesture. “More power to her. She bakes cookies?”

“Among other things,” he says proudly. “But cookies are her specialty! Go ahead, have a taste! I won’t keep ya, you no doubt got important magic things to do.” He leaves the room, giving me a loving look and saying, “Best of luck cutie pie!”

I’m flattered enough to blush, but I mean, it’s not like I’m moving away from home or anything. Still... this is nice. Soft, moist, buttery, still warm chocolate chip cookies, they just about melt in my mouth when I take them. And rich, creamy milk, way better than any milk I remember. But then again, my old body was kind of weird that way: unlike most people, I never found myself able to enjoy the taste of milk, no matter how hard I tried to get used to it. As weird as this all is, it’s nice to enjoy something I couldn’t have before.

As we work on our snack, I hold my cookie to my chest, look at Lyra and say, “I know talking about—” I glance around to check the presence of a sound bubble, finding none. “—things is important, but maybe I could also have a magic lesson, too? I really want to—I mean, I really wanted to see if I could do that, or not. What with the cascade um... opening my... vents?”

That gets a chuckle from her at least, and Lyra says, “No problem, filly. I can at least give you some exercises to work on. It might be a while before you reach your full potential though. How much magic are you familiar with using?”

A beat.

“Never mind,” Lyra says in a disgruntled tone, putting the cookie in her magic down. “Okay, first thing first, everything has magic. Magic is in all things, and it binds the universe together.”

Oh boy.

“Some things are more magic than others,” she continues blithely. “But it’s not how magic you are that matters, rather how well you can resonate with things that are. That’s where your horn comes in.”

Lightly tapping my horn with a hoof, Lyra says, “Your horn is a powerful magic resonator. Like every unicorn, it can synchronize with the underlying currents of magic and draw them towards whatever it is you want to do.

“Someponies think that unicorns just wish for what they want,” Lyra says laughing and shaking her head, “That sure would make things easier. But no, you can wish until you turn blue, and it’s how much magic you can summon, and direct that matters. How much you can resonate with the background magic field? The uh... magic in the air I mean.”

“...magic isn’t energy, is it?” I ask cautiously, but hopefully.

“Oh, good question!” Lyra says, blinking and giving me an appreciative look. “Many ponies make that mistake, thinking magic is the same thing that can light their lamps, since its effect can produce light. But actually, magic is a sort of... tendancy. It decides whether energy is going to become useful, or whether it’s going to be used. Magic is important for recharging things, and bringing things together, but obviously if you did that all the time, then things would never have a chance to be used, to help other ponies.

“So, when you use magic, you’ll see it as energy,” Lyra said, “But the magic itself is... guiding that energy. Building it up, making it so it can be used. The energy is what effects the result, but magic is what affects the energy, getting it where it needs to be, and in the right form.

“Take this cookie for instance,” Lyra says, lifting up the chewy, chocolate chip miracle in her golden aura. I’m watching in absolute gobsmacked fascination of course. If for no other reason, than what she’s saying means so much for this world.

“As you can see, my horn is not projecting any light energy to the cookie,” she says, waving her hoof in between the horn and the cookie. “My horn’s not touching the cookie, not physically lifting it. And well uh... ooh, new plan.”

She drops the cookie to the plate and levitates the glass of milk, smiling at me and saying, “Okay, tell me what you think of this.” Then, the minty pony leans her head back and opens her mouth, tilting the glass above her so that a trickle of milk pours in. She rights the glass and swallows with a smile, saying hopefully, “Heh? Hah?”

“It’s amazing you can just float it up there,” I say in wonder.

Lyra stares at me a moment longer, before she explains with some disgruntlement,

“It looks like I’m changing the cup’s gravity, through some sort of gravity waves, but as you saw I can still pour milk out of it. The cup is fully under the influence of gravity, too.”

Okay I’m not smiling anymore. I’m just staring at the cup, completely confused now.

“How does it even lift up then?” Sweetie Belle asks in equal confusion to what I feel.

“I don’t know...” I murmur thoughtfully.

“So, what I am doing,” Lyra explains, “Is causing my horn to resonate with the magic around the cup, which is why it makes the same color of light. The light’s just a side effect though. What I’m actually doing, is turning the cup’s kinetic uh... falling into not falling.”

“Kinetic energy?” I prompt, “I know what that means.”

“Oh, good,” she says with a smile. “So it’s like the cup is falling right now, but my magic takes that energy, and uses it to keep the cup rising up instead.

“If I put more magic into it, the cup rises,” she says, concentrating and bobbing the cup up in the air, “And if I put less, the cup falls,” and likewise the cup sinks back to level with my eyes.

“So it looks like I’m using my magic to lift the cup... heck most unicorns feel like they’re using their magic to lift up the cup. But what it’s actually doing is taking the cup’s own energy, that it would have used to fall, and changing it to an upward acceleration instead.”

“Ask what accel heration is,” Sweetie whispers to me.

“Oh sorry, what’s acceleration?” I ask Lyra. I could just tell Sweetie Belle myself, but then I’d have to tell Lyra that I can hear her... wait.

“Acceleration is um...” Lyra says thoughtfully, while I lift a hoof, saying,

“Sorry, I was just pretending, so you’d tell Sweetie,” I say abashedly, “The real Sweetie Belle. I forgot I don’t have to pretend anymore. Acceleration is just speeding up Sweetie, like when you run faster.”

“Oh, right, so she can ask questions, and you have to relay them?” Lyra asks.

I nod at that, and she says, “Okay, I can work with that. How’s Sweetie doing, anyway?”

“You can ask her directly, just I have to answer,” I say before Sweetie can make a fuss over it.

“Oh, okay...” Lyra says, pausing thoughtfully. Then she says in a sweet tone to me, “How are you doing then, Sweetie Belle? Holding up alright?”

Sweetie answers easily enough. “I feel weird, but I’m not hurt or anything. I wish she could...he could um... I wish she could use my body better, because it’s frustrating for both of us,” she says.

“She’s feeling fine, but weird I guess,” I say, “She wishes I could uhm... walk better. Because it’s frustrating for both of us. Sweetie Belle said earlier that she should be upset, but she’s not and that’s weird. I think not being in control of her body is doing something weird to her. But as long as I can walk good, and not be frustrating, she doesn’t have a problem with it. Is that right Sweetie?”

“Yeah, that sounds right,” Sweetie says thoughtfully, adding cheerfully, “Oh, I’m so glad I can talk to somepony else!”

“She said that’s right,” I tell Lyra, “And she’s... glad to have somepony she can talk to. Keeping this a secret is really hard on her... I wish I didn’t have to do it,” I finish glumly.

“Well, you’re right to do so. If what you say is true, this is some pretty heavy stuff,” Lyra says, glancing around and saying, “Oop—!” Huh? She lights up her horn with a panicked look, and casts her sound bubble spell then, the sphere shimmering into existence around us.

Oops.

“Keeping secrets is usually a bad idea,” Lyra whispers seriously to me, “But I don’t know about this. With the parallels to Nightmare Moon, taking her body even if on accident, and the whole... filly touching thing. Ponies might react badly to that, and ponies might panic. Add to that how you’re from another world, like another world world, and it’s just... not safe to tell everypony about it yet.

“I’ll try to find more ponies though,” Lyra says hopefully. “And your friends might be worth telling, but I don’t know how much of typical fillies they are.”

“They’re just about anything but typical fillies,” I say wryly. “Mostly, I just don’t want to make them keep secrets. Don’t you know who Apple Bloom’s moth—er, I mean, who her sister is?”

“Umm... actually, no,” Lyra says, squinting at me curiously. “Should I? I spent most of my free time this week arranging things for you. Didn’t think you needed me to look into your friends, too.”

“Oh, well, it’s no problem I mean,” I tell the big green unicorn, “I was just surprised you didn’t know. Apple Bloom’s sister is Applejack, so I don’t think she’d be happy keeping a secret—”

“Oh,” Lyra interrupts emphatically. “Say no more. I know exactly who Applejack is.”

Oh, actually...

“Who is she?” I ask Lyra. “I know a little about her, but only the Nightmare Moon part, and that she represents the Element of Honesty.”

“Yeah... suffice to say she’s not very good at being discrete,” Lyra says. “Or tactful. Or sophisticated in any way. It’s kind of refreshing, in the sense that it’s different from the Canterlot mares I usually interact with, but... Applejack, really? Your friend’s sister is... and your sister is Rarity?”

I nod at that, adding, “And Scootaloo’s sister is Rainbow—I mean, Scootaloo wants her sister to be Rainbow Dash.”

“So who is her sister then?” Lyra asks innocently, “Fluttershy?”

“For her sake, I hope not,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Fluttershy’s everything she doesn’t want to be, no offense to Fluttershy I mean.”

“None... taken?” Lyra responds uncertainly.

“No, Rarity told me that Scootaloo was a foundling,” I tell Lyra, and Sweetie speaks up immediately saying,

“Oh no! She doesn’t like ponies to talk about that. You promised—I mean I promised not to tell everypony about it.”

Lyra wilts a bit at what I say too, saying, “Oh, I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

Shaking my head, I say irritably, “Sweetie’s upset about that. She says I shouldn’t tell any...pony. But what the heck is a foundling? I thought it just meant orphan, but... she gets raised by everyone in Ponyville?”

“A foundling is a foal who was found, but not forsaken,” Lyra says in a regretful tone of voice. “It means her parents didn’t want to... give her up, but had to.”

“Wow, that’s weird...” I say. “I had something called a foundling in my world, but it was just a child who was found on a doorstep or something.”

“How is that different from a forsaken foal?” Lyra asked tilting her head in confusion.

“It’s um... synonymous, I guess?” I say without confidence. “Rarity did say something about foundlings earlier...” My eyes grow a bit distant as I try to recall her words.

Lyra speaks instead though, outside my head. “Foals are considered found, when they’re found in a state that isn’t fit for a foal to... uh, to live,” Lyra says with difficulty. “I mean I’m no expert in foal care, but that’s what I heard. Not that they were necessarily abusing her, just that um... they’re not fit parents, so she has to be re...homed.”

“It’s why Scootaloo can’t fly very well,” Sweetie Belle explains sorrowfully.

Staring forward, I feel a lump in my throat as my eyes start tearing up. “S-sorry,” I whimper out, wiping them with my forehoof, “It’s just so sad!”

“I’m sorry filly,” Lyra says, stroking down my fluffy pink mane, “I shouldn’t have pried. I just thought, with you and Apple Bloom, that she was sisters with an Element of Harmony too.”

“She will be,” I say mutedly at the floor.

“She will be?” Lyra asks in confusion.

“She will be sisters with Rainbow Dash,” I say insistently, looking up at Lyra, “Whether Rainbow Dash likes it or not, she... Scootaloo deserves it.”

“I thought we weren’t doing that anymore?” Sweetie says in surprised alarm. “The last time we tried, it—”

“I’m just babbling,” I say frustratedly to both of them. “I don’t know. I just—I think she really should be sisters with Rainbow Dash.”

Lyra looks at me uneasily, then says, “Are you sure Fluttershy wouldn’t be a better idea?”

Sweetie gives a choked laugh at that, and I just state, “No,” trying not to laugh myself, “If you knew Scootaloo, you’d... just, no.”

Lyra sighs, saying, “So, okay fine, you probably shouldn’t tell your friends if they’re—if every one of them is as tangled up with the Elements of Harmony as you are. They did technically save the world, and I’m not saying I don’t trust those mares, but I don’t know if I trust those mares. They got all that power so quickly, and who knows if they’ll use it right? They’re ponies, not virtues.”

“Well my sister’s pretty nice,” I protest, somewhat resentfully.

“Doesn’t mean she can’t make mistakes,” Lyra says coldly.

She facehooves then, saying, “Look, sorry I—I don’t mean to get all paranoid on you. They seem to be perfectly fine mares, who deserve everything they have. Just... don’t try to make them out to be something they’re not.”

I nod silently.

“Now, how’d you like to see if you can get that horn working?” Lyra says with a smile. I match her smile shakily with my own and again, nod shyly.

So without any need for more subterfuge, Lyra cancels her sound bubble, and tries to get me to take a cookie from her in my magic.

“It’s easier this way,” she says, floating the thing in front of me. “Just copy what I do.”

I look at the cookie wreathed in her mysterious magic, and Lyra says, “Focus on my horn.” So I look at her horn, and Lyra shakes her head slightly, saying, “No, look at the cookie, but focus on my horn.”

Oh right, because I can sort of see her horn, without actually looking at it.

So staring at the cookie, I try to see what I can sense of Lyra’s horn. It’s waving, no it’s shaking? Something about it feels like movement, even though what I “see” of it seems like nothing more than golden light. I think it’s... copying the cookie somehow?

“Alright, now slowly take it in your magic,” she says. I try, but... how do I do that? I try mimicking what I feel in Lyra, and I can imagine it, but nothing happens. Try copying the cookie, try projecting my something sense out of my horn... yeah I don’t even know what I’m doing at this point.

“Oh, you can’t light your horn yet, filly?” Lyra asks, and I stop concentrating fiercely, to look at her in surprise.

“Actually, no,” Sweetie says embarassedly.

“No, should I be able to?” I ask her.

“Well, I couldn’t when I was your age, but I’m a pretty high level unicorn if I may say so myself,” Lyra says somewhat smugly. “Most ordinary unicorns pick it up around your age, and they’re carrying things around before you know it!”

“Oh, so... high level unicorns mature slower?” I ask.

“Yep, that’s the trend at least,” Lyra says, “Like good cheese, the best things come to those who wait. But uh, it was really frustrating at first. I couldn’t produce more than sparks, before I got past my magic blockage.”

I blink at that. “Was that with an alicorn cascade?” I suggest.

“Yeah, it—oh, you just had one, didn’t you?” Lyra says, giving me an intrigued look. “You probably don’t even have your cutie mark, yet!”

“I had a little help,” I say blushingly. “There was a machine that... uh... caused it... and put me in her body.”

“Well, that’s certainly an odd situation,” Lyra says. “Most fillies who get a cascade do so right around when they get their cutie mark. I might be wrong, but you look a little young for that...”

“I’m 8,” I say with relative confidence.

“Ap... um... well... so, it’s unusual, that’s for sure,” Lyra says, looking at me in something of a new light.

“When do ponies usually get their cutie marks?” I ask her hopefully.

“Ooh, good idea,” Sweetie says, delighted.

“Well, you’re in the cutie period, so anything is possible,” Lyra says, with an appeasing smile.

“Around what age though?” I ask her, “Just a guesstimate?”

“I... haven’t heard of a pony getting it any earlier than oh... 14, maybe,” Lyra says, “Not sure exactly when Lemony got hers, actually. But hey, if you just got past a blockage, you might just be able to get some magic going, huh?”

Lyra settles down on her hindquarters before me, sitting there on my hindquarters, and says hopefully, “So, to light your horn, you build up your charge at the base, and spark the tip. That sets up the resonance, so the power flows up and down your horn very quickly, at the frequency of your hornlight actually.”

“At the frequent... what?” Sweetie asks in confusion.

“Tell you later Sweetie,” I say distractedly, tilting my head up to look futilely for my horn, “I wanna try this now!”

Focusing on the base of my horn, I can’t really... tell what to do.

“Here, watch me,” Lyra says, leaning down so I can see her horn more closely. The base... flickers? No it’s like it flexes, but the flexing is made out of light. I try um... flexing, and I feel something move through me as I do, sort of echoey-like.

“I think I felt it!” I say excitedly, trying to do that again. It’s like... Scootaloo’s wagon pulling my butt out from under me, except in my horn, swaying back and forth.

“Great, now spark it!” Lyra says exhuberantly.

“How do I...” I say feeling a little dizzy from doing this.

“Concentrate on the very tip, and pull across the edge. It should spark if you can make a snap,” she explains cryptically. But, I try to do so, and... woah, huh...

“It feels really... slippery,” I say cautiously, still not sure what’s going on in my head. “The uh—last time this happened I ended up stuck in a bench so, um...” I sort of push back, stopping whatever it is from sliding/shining down my horn.

“Hm, well... you are awfully young I have to admit,” Lyra says, looking me up and down. “At the tip of your horn there’s a thaumoform that creates a spark, most ponies call it a sparker. It should feel kind of rough actually, not slippery. Metaphorically speaking. I’m not exactly an expert on foal development, but yours might not be fully developed yet? If you just let the magic pour down your horn it is pretty useless, though without it passing through a transmission spire I can’t imagine how it could have stuck you to the bench.”

“That word sounds familiar... transmission spire?” I reply, trying to recall as I tap lightly at my chin.

“Yes, every horn has resonance spires and transmission spires...” Lyra says maybe less than certainly. “The former are what resonate with the magic around you. Think of them like... imaginary support poles, except the resonance ones are more like flutes. And transmission spires are how your magic flows where you direct it, and adjusting them determines the magic’s effect.”

“Oh!” Sweetie realizes, “In the hospital, they said we have a bent spire.”

“In the hospital they said I had a bent spire,” I tell Lyra, “Sweetie just reminded me. I think it was a transmission spire?”

“Oh, yeah, huh,” Lyra says, peering at my horn. “So, they fixed it, right?”

“Yes,” I say simply. “I don’t remember the details, but they said I was okay now. What does that mean?”

“Nothing!” Lyra says with a cheeky smile. “No seriously though,” she amends, “It means your horn is less likely to go off kilter, if all your spires are lined up with your sparker.”

“When you say lined up, do you mean physically?” I say, poking at my horn again, which feels like a soft, fluted curved smoothness. “All I have there physically is a horn.”

“Well, it’s not strictly physical,” Lyra says, vaguely waving her hoof around, “Horns extend into the thaumic plane, which is only quasi-spatial,” she clarifies mysteriously. “So there’s plenty of room for your conceptual anatomy to fit together, even though the thaumic plane has no measurement of distance, for instance.”

“Conceptual anatomy?” I repeat a bit skeptically. She’s just spouting magibabble at me at this point, isn’t she.

“Yes, your oneironic... pseudo... right, sorry,” Lyra says, getting a good look at me and sighing, resigned. “I’m not exactly used to teaching foals, sorry,” she says with an apologetic... tail wave? Pony body language is confusing.

“I’m just talking about your magic, Sweetie Belle,” the aquamarine pony says in a cheerfully appeasing tone, “Or... wait, what is your name, anyway?”

“What?” I reply, looking at Lyra in confusion. Didn’t she just say it?

“Your people take names, don’t they?” Lyra asks. “Or is that more of the whole ‘huemins are terrible’ thing?”

“It’s more their situation, than the humans themselves,” I answer cautiously, “And yes, humans take names. But you just said my name!”

Lyra frowns. Her horn glows, and once again that golden bubble encases us in silence. A taut silence, then Lyra says, “You mean the name Sweetie Belle?”

“Yes, that’s what I—oh.” My blood goes a little cold at that. Which is to say, her blood. “S-she isn’t changing my memories,” I say nervously, “I still remember everything I–I think I do, at least. I just got confused, for a second. I’m not... I’m not Sweetie Belle, I swear.”

Lyra looks down at me skeptically, rubbing her chin with a forehoof. “So...” she says tentatively, “Being in her body made you forget your real name?”

“No, I remember it,” I say softly. “I just got a little... confused. My name’s...”

Should I tell her? I shouldn’t tell her, right? I feel like my back is against the wall here, even though we’re just standing here in the middle of my room—in Sweetie Belle’s room. I was going to tell Lyra, right? But I can’t tell her my name, or she’ll know! But don’t I want her to know?

“Sorry, just,” I close my eyes and raise a hoof. “Give me a moment here.”

Okay, I was going to tell Lyra that I wasn’t Sweetie Belle, that’s done. But if I tell her I don’t remember my name, my old name, then it’ll just look like I am Sweetie Belle, but having some kind of psychotic fugue. Lyra doesn’t believe that yet, but what if I am? What if Sweetie did go insane? I feel like I’m real, but how can I trust my feelings? They’re not even my feelings!

But I can’t tell her. I already spilled the beans about how I... woke Sweetie Belle up. Only reason I’m not getting delivered straight to the guards is that she still thinks I’m a young filly, just of the human variety. Unless I want her thinking I’m a grown man, who’s disgusting and twisted for acting like a little filly, I just... I can’t tell her my real name. I’ll just have to... lie to her. Just a little bit.

“My name is Lucy,” I try to say with steady confidence.

“Loo See?” Lyra pronounces uncertainly. “Is that even a word?”

I blink at her. “Oh, that’s right!” I blurt out in shock. “You ponies have names that are real words!”

“You mean, your name is just... random sounds?” Lyra asks, her face twisting in confusion.

“No, it’s... are there foreign languages in Equestria?” I ask.

“You mean like Fançois?” Lyra replies. “I guess so. It depends where you live really, and who your ancestors are.”

Okay... I didn’t understand that at all. Mental note: ask about it later. “Well, humans have a lot of foreign languages, and they don’t have... what was that about ancestors?”

“Well, when ponies have children, the foals generally pick up on their manner of speaking,” Lyra says informatively. “So, you probably speak like a Belle did many generations ago. My mom says my great grandmother spoke like I do. It just sort of happens, you know?”

“Well humans don’t have as much of... whatever that is,” I tell her cautiously. “And after a long time, language just drifts and changes randomly. Plus with the wars—er, yeah, humans have a lot of wars, so they teach each other to speak different just to make it harder to... be friends, I guess.”

“That’s terrible!” Lyra exclaims in horror. “You can’t be friends with each other, and they teach this to you?”

“Well, sort of,” I say cringing inwardly from her reaction. “Some humans like international languages, and try to understand each other. But some... yeah, they want you to speak their language, so you can communicate with them, but also so you... depend on them, and can’t identify with outsiders. It’s been going away in recent um... eras, since people have to communicate with each other now, but my point is that a while ago, everyone spoke very differently. So they said, like... forsooth, and now they say ‘for sure.’”

“I’m following you so far,” Lyra says, settling on her haunches again with a less horrified and more relaxed expression on her face. “And now that I think on it ponies do have something like that. It’s just not as dramatic, I suppose. Other things play a greater factor in understanding.”

“Right, so when I said ‘Lucy’ which is short for um... Lucille, that once was a word, and did mean something. But people started to say oh I dunno... lucid instead of Lucy?”

“Oh, so your name is Lucid?” Lyra says with a surprised smile, “And you just use an archaic form of the word?”

“I... yeah...” I say reluctantly. I don’t actually know what the etymology of Lucy is. But it was probably something like that. “Sort of like how Pinkie Pie is named Pinkamena,” I explain. “And also uh... Diane.” Okay, that’s actually a weird name, for a pony. Pausing puzzled, I guess I just have to chalk it up to Pinkie being Pinkie. And where is Pinkie Pie anyway? Have I just not run into her yet?

“Well it certainly is fascinating, uh, Lucy,” Lyra says accomodatingly. “So what I’m saying before getting distracted about your name is that there’s a sort of second space, except it has fractional dimensions and... it has a strange shape, I mean, that includes conceptual axes... that um... have you ever heard of timethought theory?”

I look at her blankly. “Sweetie Belle?” I ask curiously.

“...nope,” she says.

“Nope,” I respond with a shrug.

“Well, don’t worry yourself too much over it,” Lyra says with a note of disappointment in her voice. “You’re a very smart filly, and I’m sure you’ll understand it in time, as you grow older. Your magic is fine, and you can probably think of it like most unicorns do, as a horn that does things when it glows. I know you might feel pretty confused, but what you’ve told me so far has at least given me a better idea with what’s going on with you.”

“Oh?” I ask curiously. “What’s going on with me, do you think?”

“Umm... that you’re doing the best you can, and Sweetie Belle is doing alright, but having some frustration?” Lyra says tilting her head at me. “I mean, you were the one who told me, so...”

“Oh, you mean the possession thing...” I realize a bit glumly. “Thought you meant the magic.”

“I want you to know that it will be a while until your magic fully matures,” Lyra replies, giving me an encouraging pat on the head, “You had a horn surge at an early age, and it sounds like you have a pretty developed sense of your horn. But don’t knock yourself if you can’t get it to spark. Alicorns are one of the last things to develop in foalhood. That’s why we unicorns have so much to thank for, in the other tribes. Your friends and family will keep you safe, and help you in ways that you can’t help them yet. And their help, you’ll be able to return many times over, once your horn is fully awakened.

“So um... what I’m saying is... is our hour is almost up,” Lyra concludes, squirming awkwardly under my pensive gaze, “And I’m gonna give you some exercises, which are good for any young unicorn to do. Keep at them and you’ll be sure to develop your full potential, maybe I’ll even see you in my class one day... hopefully not in her uh, body, of course. Oh, wait, but you’d be a huemin, then...”

“I really don’t mind not being a human,” I tell her honestly. “Like, ever. I just want to be a normal unicorn f-filly, and not have to mess up some other filly’s life for it.”

“We could be si҉sters!” Sweetie squeaks excitedly.

“But I mean, even if I’m not a unicorn it’s fine,” I say. “Really, I like earth ponies best.”

“Huh, because they’re familiar to your huemin people?” Lyra says curiously. “Earth ponies can have a lot of pony magic, but it is a lot less obvious than a horn, it’s true.”

“No, it’s not that,” I reply, “It’s just I’ve never seen an earth pony who was unhappy with her life. Unicorns have more umm... worries?”

Lyra laughs at that, saying, “You don’t pull your bucks, do you Lucy? I don’t wanna stereotype them or anything, but even I find it awfully uncanny how earth ponies seem to be where they want to be. I think anypony can be whatever she wants to be, but I can see why you’d think that earth ponies... well, unicorns aren’t better than other types of pony. Seems like it’d be an obvious advantage: we have horns, they don’t. But in reality it’s a lot more complicated... and I think that’s a good thing.

“We all have our parts to play,” Lyra tells me with an infectious confidence. “Even the worrywarts. Now how about we go over that exercise?”

“Okay,” I tell that wonderful unicorn. How did I ever doubt that she’d be the mare to tell my secret to? I’m gazing at her starry-eyed, aren’t I. Eheh.

Lyra cancels the sound bubble (again) and tells me, “Alright, so what you need to do is practice engaging the base.”

“Engaging the...?” I say cluelessly, but she answers easily, telling me,

“The base of your horn. The part that resonates with the world.”

Lyra stands up, planting her hooves and looking down to me seriously, saying, “Fillies your age always try for that spark to get their magic going, but the real power is in strengthening your base. The spark is really tricky to get at first, but don’t worry about it for now. What you need to do instead is find a wall and start tapping.”

“...tapping?” I repeat equally cluelessly. Thinking about standing on my hooves, to stand together with Lyra, but I’d prefer to have a conversation with her, instead of ignoring her to focus on getting my feet underneath me, so I remain seated on my floor looking up at her.

“Yeah, like... on a wall or something,” Lyra says, waving a forehoof at the wall. “You can do it to a rhythm, and use that to help work the rhythm of the base. Like uh... like how you can balance creatures easier, with a saddle on.”

“A saddle?” I ask in surprise.

“Heh, yeah,” Lyra says. “Just like it’s easier to keep a dog on your back with a saddle, a wall can help you get your rhythm. So just try it out. See if you can feel it flowing through your whole body, like a wave back and forth.”

“I did tapping before,” Sweetie says helpfully, and I guess it doesn’t sound... too bad? Kind of embarassing, it sounds like. And what if my horn gets stuck?

“Another thing you can do is try to synchronize with other magic,” Lyra says, lighting up her horn. “Just... flex the base, like I showed you, and try to imagine as if your horn was doing the same thing that mine is.”

Looking at her horn, I try, and... it’s actually kind of hard to do. It like, flutters, and then I lose it again. But I can sort of feel what Lyra’s talking about.

“Not just horns,” she adds, “But contrails, rainbows, chaetomancy, sunsets, any sort of magic you observe, you can let it affect your horn, just like one day your horn will effect the magic.”

“Alright, so look at magic, and try to imagine my horn... doing the same thing,” I say carefully, making that weird flutter happen in it as I add, “...and do this.”

“Yup. I’ll let you know how you’re doing next week,” Lyra says with a grin. “I get a whole afternoon with you every week with these magic lessons. I’ll be more ready to do some actual tests then, and show you some cool stuff maybe. Especially for a filly that—” Lyra looks at the door, then whispers excitedly to me, “Didn’t have a magic horn before!”

“Y-yeah, every week,” I agree, looking down at my soft white belly. “And if Sweetie goes away again, I’ll... I mean it’s okay if I...”

Lyra bites her lip, and looks away, saying, “...I need to look into that. But uh, do whatever you have to uh, do, until we have some better idea what’s going on with that.”

“I’ll... try,” I say uncertainly, feeling oddly more confident with how embarassed Lyra is about it. I can’t believe I told her! And it didn’t blow up in my face!

“If we’re lucky, your horn exercises will help,” Lyra says less than confidently. “A good strong horn is much less likely to fritz out, or have unexpected magic pop out from it. Spontaneous magic is friend to no unicorn outside of the desperate.”

“I will work on it,” I say honestly. “I just love the idea that I can actually do something, even if my magic isn’t supposed to do anything yet.”

I mean, it is Sweetie Belle’s magic, but I was learning the lesson too. And it’s really fascinating to feel this thing in my forehead.

“Oh, just... one thing,” Lyra says at the door to my room. “Rarity was mentioning some breathing exercises... I’d hold off on those for now. Meditation’s a pretty advanced technique actually, and in the lower level unicorns, it can result in unexpected magic effects. You can get a big boost from meditation and mindfulness, once you have a steady glow on your horn. Until then, just pay active attention to your horn when you’re trying to use it.”

“Okay,” I say without all that much trepidation. “I guess you’re gonna go, then?”

“Yup, the university won’t wait for me after all,” she says, “Plus I have to eat some dinner myself too, and I don’t have my parents here to prepare it for me, heh.”

I probably shouldn’t feel insulted by that.

“Anyway, until next week, filly?” Lyra offers, pulling open my door in her magic, and giving me a sort of... hoof salute.

Cautiously, I touch my hoof to my forehead, saying, “Sure thing. Thanks so much, for... everything. And being such an awesome pony.”

Lyra blushes at that, her head bobbing down as she says, “Uh, yeah no problem... anyway, see ya.”

Then, she trots out of my room, and out of my life. And I get to thinking about myself, and what problem I’m facing for the next week. At least I can walk now... sorta. And open doors. Not bad for a week. Lyra’s gonna see me next week, and the weeks after that as my “magic instructor.” She says that she might be able to test me, both in magical aptitude, and in the question of just why I am Sweetie Belle, what to do about getting her back. Downstairs, I think I can smell rice cooking in a frying pan. And against all better expectations, I have actual permission from an adult to diddle myself!

Wow, diddle sounds just... terrible. I need better female metaphors. I suppose it isn’t any more insulting than fap. I still don’t know how... accepted that sort of stuff is in pony society. Lyra seemed pretty ambivalent about it, anxious yet not... particularly outraged. It doesn’t seem like it’s acceptable, but it doesn’t seem like it’s an unforgivable crime, at least.

At least not until they find out that I’m a grown man who’s doing the diddly winks. I really... really wish I didn’t have to be a grown man. It’s so stupid that I can’t just be a normal unicorn girl, now that I know that I can... be a unicorn girl, rather than an adult human male. No idea how it happened still, but at least my imminent demise doesn’t seem to be at hand. I have enough breathing room to take some time to learn about myself... and maybe even get closer with Sweetie Belle, so that we really can consider each other sisters. I would really... really like that.

As I make my way step-by-hoofstep down the stairs, dad calls up, “Well! Sweetie!” Looks like you decided to join us at just the right time!”

“How did your magic lesson go?” mom asks with an eager little smile on her bright pink face. “How was the Canterlot professor? Not too confusing I hope?”

“Easy honey,” dad tells her in a patient tone, “Let’s all settle down for some dinner, and then Sweetie can tell us all about it.”

I do my best not to disappoint them. Especially since they’re serving fried vegetables over rice, which (go figure) tastes great. It’s really hearty, and there are so many kinds of vegetables! Peppers and olives and some sort of sprouts, and celery, and white sweet stick things, and radishes, and... zucchini, and that’s it. But it’s really tasty. Even as Sweetie Belle I don’t have a sophisticated enough palette to really tell what spices they use, but it’s got a sharp, hearty taste to it, rather than anything bland and plain. Mustard?

I try out one of my new magic exercises after dinner. Dad’s quite happy to indulge me and my (and Sweetie Belle’s) curiosity, and it’s kind of... intimate when I try to match my horn to his magic. I just feel so close to him, the closer I come to... resonating with it. Is this the magic of harmony?

As I snuggle down in bed for the night, I can hear the hooting of an owl in the distance, and the slow, soft creak of the windmill outside, and nothing else. No cars. No yelling. No fans, or motors, or engines. No whooshing air ducts. No industry. As I lay in that peaceful solitude, I find myself feeling somewhat... small, and scared.

I groan in disgust and roll over to my side. I just can’t give myself a break, can I?

“You still there, Sweetie?” I whisper to her.

“Yeah?” she whispers back, even though she doesn’t need to.

“Nothing, just... wanted to see if you were there,” I say to her. “Feeling... kinda funny about all this.”

“Yeah...” she whispers back, “I’m kind of scared, and... I don’t know why. I’m warm in my bed, and everything’s fine. So why are you scared?”

“I dunno,” I whisper unhappily. “I’m just... things are going so well.” I guess that’s not a very compelling reason to be scared. “Just not used to things working out so well,” I tell her, trying to come up with words for how I feel.

“You think something’s gonna go wrong?” she asks in the dark silence that we both share.

“No, I just... I’m not used to things working out,” I tell her. “Everything’s fine, and... and tomorrow, dad says I can see Ace again, and I’ll be learning to walk better. Lyra’s going to help me, and... things are going to happen because of that. I’m still you, but nothing else is going wrong, and that means I have to... do things. It means things are going to happen. I-it’s kind of like a roller coaster.”

“You rode on a roller coaster before?” she says, intrigued.

I nod, “Yeah, b-but I mean it’s just a cart that pulls you really fast. There’s no danger, and nothing’s gonna go wrong, and it’s gonna be a lot of fun. But I feel like I’m on top of the hill, and I don’t know when it’s gonna start, and when things are gonna go really fast.”

I feel like patting something, as Sweetie Belle says, “It’ll be okay, Loose Leaf.”

Wait, “What?”

“You said your name was Loose Leaf, didn’t you?” Sweetie whispers back. “Or Loose something?.”

“It’s no problem, the name just comes from really old languages, remember?” I tell her. “My name is Lucy, and it probably means...” ugh, is it Greek? I think Lucy is a nickname for um... Lucentia? Lucid? “I think it means lucid, like ‘Clarity’” I conclude uncertainly.

“Well, Clarity is a good name too,” Sweetie Belle says, sounding equally unsure of herself.

“Guess so,” I say, with a yawn welling up in my chest. “I’m gonna... (yawn) pick a good pony name, if I get to be a pony. Jus’ gonna sleep now.”

“You feel better?” she asks quietly.

I pause, and smile a little to myself, and her. “Weird...” I whisper. “I think I do.”