Still with the sweet taste in my mouth, I forced myself to stand up.
The fatigue hadn't left. It was still there, in every muscle, in every heartbeat that pulsed slower than it should. But the moment didn't belong to me. Not yet.
I nodded toward Celestia. She understood without words. Luna did too, though she could barely hold my gaze.
There was no room for another goodbye.
I had already memorized the magical coordinates. The energy markers that defined Ponyville in my mind were stable, engraved like a fixed destination. I didn't like using that spell—the instant displacement affected my body more than I liked to admit. It hurt on the inside, as if every part of me arrived slightly out of sync with the rest. But I would do it.
Because I had to.
My horn lit up briefly. A pulse of golden magic rewrote the space around me.
And I vanished.
I appeared in the middle of the town hall.
The air was different. Warmer. Charged with that simple kind of optimism that only bright mornings can bring.
Ponies were already walking through the streets again, their faces a mix of confusion, relief, and wonder. Some looked up at the sky. Others laughed, hugging one another as if the eternal night had just been a shared nightmare. The light of day no longer felt distant.
Everything had returned.
Or almost everything.
The magical formation was still active, though only partially. Fragments of the pattern still vibrated, lingering out of inertia. I approached, analyzing its state. The runes were misaligned, as if they'd been interrupted carefully. The Cube was no longer there.
I stopped. Observed the empty space it once occupied.
Flash must've picked it up… probably with Big Mac's help when they exited. It didn't surprise me. That was his way of operating: silent, efficient. Think for himself. React without waiting for orders. Most likely, they were at my house now, assessing the situation.
I let out a faint sigh.
I couldn't leave the place like this.
I began to clean.
Not with flashy spells, but with the kind you cast in silence. One by one, I erased the claw marks still scarring the ground. Collected the formation anchors, retrieving every shard of crystal and magical component. I restored the key points where the energy had been drained. I even passed a light sweep of magic to disperse the lingering residue in the air.
In a flash, I appeared in front of my house.
The discomfort in my body was familiar—sharp, but manageable. I took a deep breath, waiting for it to fade, but it wasn't the pain that made me stop.
Four magical auras inside.
Two I recognized instantly.
Big Mac. Flash.
The third was Stella… her magical signature was unsteady, young, still developing. Nothing alarming.
But the fourth…
I frowned.
Not an enemy. But not someone who should've been there either... Bon Bon.
That alone made me raise an eyebrow.
I advanced slowly. Crossed the doorway like it was any other day, though I was already scanning the room with each step.
It wasn't an ambush.
But it wasn't casual, either.
Inside, Flash rested with half-lidded eyes on the sofa. When he saw me enter, he raised his gaze without surprise. Just nodded, like he had been expecting me.
Big Mac sat nearby, armorless, a fresh bandage wrapped around his torso. Beside him, Stella slept on a makeshift blanket, still clutching the enchanted plush I'd given her.
And in front of them all…
Bon Bon.
Not the cheerful, clumsy one who often stumbled around the Ponyville sweet shop. Not the one who always had a smile for Lyra.
This Bon Bon stood tall. Unshaken. With a bearing that left no room for confusion.
Her aura was stable. Cold. Controlled.
And the badge—barely visible beneath her jacket's lapel—confirmed everything.
SMILE.
"Then who am I supposed to ask for information about what happened?"
Bon Bon's voice broke the silence with surgical calm, not raising her tone, not asking for permission. It wasn't a question—it was a statement.
"Because these two have kept their mouths shut ever since the sun returned," she added while finishing the last wrap around Big Mac's bandage. "And they're not sharing a thing."
Big Mac nodded in thanks, but said nothing.
I tried to heal him out of habit, channeling magic toward his shoulder, but he shook his head before the spell even touched him.
"A bit of rest will do me good," he said simply. "It's a small injury."
And that was the end of it.
I turned my eyes to Flash, but he only met my gaze in silence.
Stillness.
Bon Bon stood upright, turning just enough to face me. Her posture neutral… but firm.
Waiting for answers.
Not demanding them. Not yet.
Just… reminding me she was watching.
That SMILE took notes too.
I took a breath.
Let out a quiet sigh.
"The second princess returned," I said at last, straightforward. "Not Cadance… Celestia's sister."
I made sure each word carried its weight.
"Princess Luna came back. But she wasn't entirely herself… and she didn't come alone."
Bon Bon didn't react. She just listened.
"She brought with her some lackeys. Creatures… unclassified. A minor threat, but effective. They were contained. And eliminated."
As I spoke, my horn lit up. A scroll appeared in front of me, along with a quill already dipped in ink.
There was no time for elegance.
I sketched out the silhouettes of the creatures we faced. Logged their structure, behavior, movements. I added a side column with magical notes: detected abilities, spell reactions, threat level, and the weaknesses I had exploited in battle.
It was a practical document. Technical.
With a second spell, I duplicated it.
I passed the copy to Bon Bon.
She took it immediately, without ceremony, and began reading even as it hovered in the air. Her eyes moved with precision, scanning each line like she already had internal standards for comparison.
For a moment, no one spoke.
Then Bon Bon let out a short sigh—dry, but genuine.
"Well… this'll be enough to keep the higher-ups off my back all afternoon," she said as she rolled the scroll. "I'm off. I've got a report to write."
She adjusted her jacket and gave one last look—first to Big Mac, then Flash, then me.
"Thank you for your service. May Celestia bless you and light your day."
And with that, she left.
No more words.
No unnecessary pauses.
The door closed behind her with a soft click. Not dramatic. Just final.
Flash waited a few seconds, and then, without standing up, muttered while still watching her silhouette disappear:
"So… there's another secret organization."
His voice was curious, not surprised.
"They seem more like an informant chain," he added. "Quieter. More... invisible."
He turned his neck toward me.
"Does Lyra know about her roommate's secret… and yours?"
I stayed silent.
But he kept going, one eyebrow raised.
"Does Twilight know? Your parents? Celestia?"
"Lyra knows nothing," I answered bluntly. "Same with Twilight."
I paused briefly.
"My parents know everything. So does Celestia."
The silence that followed was short, broken only by the soft creak of shifting bandages.
"Excuse me," Big Mac added as he stood up and headed for the door, "but I need to go see my family."
I didn't stop him.
There was nothing more to do here, and he knew it.
I nodded slightly. He returned the gesture before leaving in silence.
When I looked back to Flash, he was no longer on the couch.
I found him in the kitchen.
Half his body was inside the pantry.
Rummaging.
The sound of jars, lids opening, the low muttering of mild frustration.
"Wiz!" he called out from inside, not even turning around. "Buy some grape stuff, for Celestia's sake!"
I let out a snort.
"Hey," I said, lazily pointing toward the fridge. "There's a bottle of grape juice in the back."
Flash didn't hesitate to pounce on it.
He yanked the door open like he'd found an oasis and started digging through the containers.
"Oh!" he exclaimed. "The one next to the chocolate-flavored one…"
He pulled it out, gave it a look… and his expression changed.
"By Celestia… this thing is loaded with sugar!"
He held up the bottle like it was candy-wrapped dynamite.
"This one's for you?"
I shook my head, not even bothering to look.
"That's for Twilight."
"Ah. That checks out."
He put it back gently, almost respectfully, then popped open the grape juice and drank straight from the bottle like it could solve every problem in the world.
"Holy hay," he muttered. "You should hide this better. It's way too good."
I shrugged.
Flash tossed me another bottle, this one with a yellow-orange liquid. I caught it without effort.
Orange juice.
I opened it immediately and drank. My mouth was dry, parched from all the action, all the magic, all the running and pushing through.
The freshness helped clear my head.
Flash leaned his elbow on the kitchen counter, relaxed, wearing a smile I couldn't quite place—proud or just tired.
"So… what now?" he asked, taking another sip of grape juice. "We took down the threat, I helped protect civilians and assisted in the containment effort… does that make me a rookie member of your agency?"
I raised an eyebrow.
I was about to reply with something dry, maybe a jab.
But someone else beat me to it.
"Nope," said a third voice, cheerful and casual.
I recognized it instantly.
Rogue.
Her tone was unmistakable—that kind of cheerfulness only used by someone who knows far more than they say… and enjoys not revealing it.
Rogue was already inside, comfortably perched on one of the kitchen stools, as if she'd always been there and we'd just taken too long to notice.
She was already skimming through the scroll Wizbell had crafted just a few minutes earlier.
"Thanks for trying, cadet," she added with a crooked grin.
She brought a cookie to her mouth—where had she even gotten that?—and bit into it with satisfaction, then dropped a sealed envelope onto the table right in front of me.
"That doesn't mean you're off the radar," Rogue said, letting the envelope land with that light tap of hers that always felt more intentional than it looked.
Then she turned to Flash with one raised eyebrow, her smile still in place, almost amused.
"Why? You seriously want to join?"
And without waiting for an answer, she looked straight at me.
"Is he any good?"
She took a bite of the half-eaten cookie, and with the remaining half still between her hooves, casually pointed it at Flash like he was a loaf of bread on display.
I answered without breaking stride, as if her sudden intrusion in my house was just part of the furniture. I was used to her by now.
"Yeah. He is."
My voice was steady. No hesitation.
"A natural-born pegasus fighter. If I have the gift of magic, he has the physique."
Rogue raised an eyebrow, like she hadn't expected such a direct answer.
Flash just took another sip of grape juice, a bit more proudly this time, though he said nothing.
Rogue spun the cookie in the air with the tip of her hoof, thoughtful.
"I'll have to talk to the higher-ups."
Her voice was light, like she was saying something trivial… but we all knew what that meant.
"For now," she continued, fixing her gaze on Flash, "don't take him on any more missions."
Her voice wasn't so light anymore.
"No more missions for you, speedy colt. We don't need rookie mistakes from someone who doesn't know the protocols."
Flash frowned slightly, but didn't argue.
"I know Wizbell could probably teach you," she added with a crooked smile, as if teasing the very idea, "but no. No means no."
Then she shrugged, like she hadn't said anything important at all.
"Just wait. It won't be long. Especially if we consider that Princess Celestia probably already knows about your talent…"
She shot him a sideways glance, almost amused.
"…being friends with her golden boy."
Flash let out a small snort and looked at me with a crooked grin.
I said nothing.
There was no need.
"What I came for," Rogue said at last, dropping the playfulness from her tone, "is for you to share information, Wizbell. Everything you experienced."
She took a step closer and dropped another object onto the table with a soft clink.
"So do it quickly, so I can analyze it. Here. You know what to do."
The object glowed faintly as it touched the surface. A small crystal embedded in a metallic casing—fragile, yet stable.
A Memory Catcher.
A device used to capture moments from a unicorn's mind and project them later into the Dream Room, as controlled simulations. Used for training, studying magical patterns, or reconstructing key events.
I took it without hesitation.
"I'll need another one," I added before she could speak, "there's more to share than originally planned."
Rogue raised an eyebrow, amused.
Without changing expression, she reached into her mane and pulled out four more, placing them on the table in a neat line with theatrical precision.
"Just in case, golden boy," she murmured.
Flash, in silence, understood what that meant. He looked down, then back at me.
No complaints. Just understanding.
He turned without a word and walked out of the room, his hoofsteps soft and steady until the door clicked shut behind him.
I stared at the five devices. Each one, a memory capsule waiting to be filled.
I'll sleep the rest of the day.
I've earned it.
That was the only logical conclusion after mentally reviewing everything that had happened.
Without another word, I took the first crystal.
Activated it with a touch of magic and let the memory flow.
From the exact moment Nightmare Moon appeared, all the way to the moment I entered the Cube, just as Big Mac was the first to strike.
Every visual, every sound, every emotion was sealed inside the Memory Catcher.
Then I took the second one.
And kept going, memory after memory.
The events fit together like pieces of a complex spell: the fight, the twisted creatures, the magic circles, the vortex's appearance, Luna's purification…
In the end, I only used four crystals.
The more realistic or emotional the memory, the more magic it required. Some held minutes. Others… only seconds. But they were dense—like an entire battle compressed into a heartbeat.
Rogue let out a low whistle, genuinely impressed, as she watched the crystals. Inside, the magical mist swirled softly, like the memories were still breathing.
"Well done, cadet," she said, smiling—this time, sincerely. "You completed your mission. That warning signal saved and helped many others."
She marked the crystals with a classification rune before adding:
"You'll get a nice bonus in the next few days."
Then she looked at me, tilting her head slightly.
"Anything else you'd like to add?"
I stayed quiet.
Not from exhaustion.
The rift…
That moment.
That feeling behind the veil.
That presence watching me through the fracture in space.
Without saying a word, I took the fifth crystal.
And this time… the memory was different.
Deeper.
Less stable.
Anyone who used it wouldn't just be a spectator. They wouldn't just see. They would feel.
The weight of that consciousness.
That gaze.
The existence of something that shouldn't even know you exist… but does.
When the crystal was full, I sealed it with a personal rune and handed it to Rogue.
"Analyze it," I said quietly. "Maybe I missed something important in the heat of the moment."
She took it without comment, but her eyes said more than enough.
I had nothing else to say.
I walked toward my room in silence.
Cast a cleaning spell on myself as I passed through the hallway. If I took a bath now, I'd probably fall asleep in the tub. And I wasn't ready to die like that.
The spell washed over me like warm breath, clearing away sweat, dust, and lingering magical residue. Not perfect—but good enough.
Stella followed close behind, saying nothing, her steps dragging a little, still holding the plush toy between her teeth.
I pushed the door open with light magic. The cold air hit my face, but I didn't mind.
I just wanted… to stop.
I let myself fall onto the sheets without resistance.
Stella climbed up soon after, scrambling like she always had since she was little. She curled up beside me, murmured something in her sleep, and without asking, hugged me by reflex.
I didn't push her away.
I didn't turn on the lights.
I just closed my eyes.
And let the world continue without me… for a while.