There was a time when Twilight Sparkle was still new to this whole business of being a princess. Back then, her unruly wings kept springing at the most inappropriate times, wearing a crown in public was nothing more than a punishment, and all those ponies kissing the ground to greet her were turning every casual trip into an awkward walk of shame.

That was roughly fifteen years ago.

Princess Twilight Sparkle had grown since then, not only in size but in spirit as well, and a single glance sufficed to tell she was no longer afraid of her own castle or the responsibility which had been thrust upon her with it. You could see that change in her posture, in the way she stepped off her carriage, and in how measured and gentle her steps were when golden hoof boots struck the pavement below. There was something soothing to her moves, like she weighed no more than a feather and was just flowing forward, the immensely royal individual she had become.

At least until the frustration shattered her perfect demeanor.

“Argh! I can’t do this!”

One by one, Twilight shook off her boots and let her onefold entourage take care of them. Her loyal bodyguard, field assistant, and above all, a personal sponge for all her antics had a suitcase already prepped and ready. It wasn’t the first time Twilight would discard some bothersome part of her formal attire, and it certainly wasn’t going to be the last.

“Every time, Princess,” Silver Spoon said, placing the regalia on the silken padding. “Every time you get a new set you’re saying they’re impossible to walk in. Then, after a couple of weeks you adapt anyway, and even claim they’re a percentage more comfortable than the old ones.” The clasps clicked as the guardsmare locked the suitcase. “Every time.”

“Now that’s ridiculous! I liked my old ones better than those bear traps here. Why did we have to throw them away?”

“We didn’t throw them away. We donated them, and we did it because they were old. Every mare has to up her wardrobe from time to time, you know.”

“It’s an unwritten rule. You know very well what I think of those,” Twilight replied. “How come you never complain about yours? They’re pretty much identical to what I have to suffer. Is there some sort of a hoof endurance training at the Hurricane Academy I should enroll?”

Silver Spoon glanced at her own set of boots which matched the rest of her bluish armor. “It’s called dedication, Princess. Plus they’re pretty, they double as can openers, and they can be used as a weapon if you know how to handle them,” she said. “You knew this was going to be an official visit and that you’d have to dress accordingly, so why did you agree to do this? You have more important things to do than to watch foals and their magic fireworks.”

Twilight’s lips twitched as she looked at the ivory building ahead.

“Perhaps because I was once one of them,” she said. “Princess Celestia’s School for Gifted Individuals has changed its name to better reflect their new policy of accepting both pony and non-pony students, of course as long as they have a magical talent. Since the overall idea was mine, and they’re using my simple, standardized three-factor recruitment procedure, it’s only natural they want me to check on how they’re doing.”

“So you’ll be actually watching a bunch of judgmental academics keen on crushing those poor kids’ dreams. Great. The day just keeps getting better.”

“Is that sarcasm I sense?”

Silver Spoon frowned, her brows lining up behind the frame of her glasses. “Not at all, Princess. I’m sure it’s going to be amazing.”

Compared to the midsummer temperature reigning outside, the indoors felt calm and refreshing. Twilight closed her eyes. She took a deep breath and a blissful smile appeared on her face. Schools, libraries, and other fonts of knowledge were all dear to her heart, and the atmosphere of learning so palpable in such places was worth immersing yourself for a moment. Only when Silver Spoon closed the doors behind her did the alicorn break out of her reverie and followed the empty corridor.

“I guess I was counting on something more exciting this time,” Silver Spoon said. “All you’ve been doing lately is smearing in that luminite stuff and trying out new spell formulas. More often than not with hilariously explosive effects, but I can’t protect you from home incidents you cause anyway.”

“I still go out sometimes. Some of my spells need components.”

“Yeah, from the Everfree Forest, where every living creature has already learned that you are the ultimate predator they should fear, not the other way around,” Silver Spoon replied. “I’m a Royal Guard. I should stand between you and the danger. Coming to Canterlot for an inspection feels so unrewarding, you know what I mean?”

Twilight chuckled. “Cheer up, captain. Princess Celestia will eventually require me to go to the Griffin Kingdom to sign another treaty, and I’m going to need somepony I can trust by my side. I wouldn’t want to end with a three-inch talon in my throat.”

“But you’ve said that High Beak Gilda of the Amber Aerie is a confirmed friendly. This is a purely diplomatic visit.”

“We both know there is no such thing as a purely diplomatic visit whenever griffons are involved.”

“Point taken.”

Twilight stopped about halfway through the corridor, at a door leading to the recently renovated lecture hall. She felt a surge of excitement going down her spine, like those years ago when her parents brought her here for the first time. That one entry exam set her on a path she would have never imagined for herself. From getting a cutie mark and becoming Princess Celestia’s personal protégée, to turning into an alicorn and becoming the fourth of the Equestrian Princesses, it had all began here, beyond this threshold. As she was about to walk in she was denied by a suitcase right in front of her. She let out an undignified snort, but obediently wore the dreaded hoof boots. Those beautiful, terrible boots.

The lecturers assembled inside were engaged in a heated discussion which subsided the moment one of them spotted Twilight entering the room. She shushed her colleagues and slowly went to greet the mares, as far as her elderly legs allowed.

“Princess Twilight Sparkle!” she said. “And the third law of spellcasting is…”

“The energy flux between the arcane field and the spell effect lowers with the increasing complexity of the spell idea,” Twilight recited. “So many years have passed, and you’re still not letting me off on that, Professor Inkwell?”

The old mare scowled, the scar over her eye hiding amongst the many deepening wrinkles. “Not until I’m certain you’ve burnt the midnight oil learning it, young filly!” she replied, but then lightened up, levitating a small box towards the mares. “Nuts?”

“I’m good, thank you.”

“Don’t mind if I do,” Silver Spoon said.

“Ha! At least one of you won’t be ending as a senile dolt!” Professor Inkwell said, to which Twilight politely smiled. She had braced herself for the old mare’s wicked sense of humor. “Eh, forgive me, Princess. It seems that my husband’s cynicism is finally getting the best of me.”

“It’s alright. Please say hello to Mister Inkblot for me.”

“You bet I will!” she shouted. “Now, as the head of the examination committee I would like to welcome you, one of our most distinguished graduates, as well as convey our deepest thanks for your contribution towards the recruitment process, here at Princess Celestia’s School for Gifted Individuals. You’ve certainly made our lives easier.”

“It’s good to be back, Professor, and I’m glad the system is working as intended,” Twilight said, turning to the rest of the assembly. “I understand you still have some preparations to make before the hour strikes. I wouldn’t want my presence to affect the candidates, so it’s probably for the best if I remain hidden from their sight. Would you mind if I take the balcony?”

“Not at all. Make yourself comfortable, Princess.”

The examination committee resumed their discussion, while Twilight and Silver Spoon headed up the lecture hall, along a dozen rows of orange seats, towards the back of the room. There was a spacious passage with a spiral staircase leading to the upper level which Silver Spoon took without hesitation, but Twilight stopped and moaned. Instead of placing her already burning hooves on the steps she spread her wings and began a gentle ascent along the center of the shaft.

“Would you kindly dispose of it?” she said to Silver Spoon, handing her a piece of paper.

“What is this?” the mare replied. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me, Princess. You’ve made a cheat sheet with the Laws of Spellcasting?”

“Shh! It’s not a cheat sheet!” Twilight said, rotating to face Silver Spoon. “It’s a predisposed, anti-ignorance portable countermeasure. A fail-safe, nothing more. And I didn’t even have to use it.”

Silver Spoon deadpanned. “It’s a cheat sheet.”

“Are you going to shred it or not?”

Silver Spoon held the note in her teeth and tore it in half, then repeated the process several times. The relevance of the pieces declined the smaller they became. “Hm. Perhaps I should have kept that and one day blackmail you to improve my pension,” she said. “On second thought, nopony would ever believe me, right?”

Twilight landed by the other mare with a surprised expression. “I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about.”

As soon as they found themselves a sufficient vantage point over the heads of the lecturers, Silver Spoon approached the edge of the balcony. Following what she had been taught, she eyed the hall for any and all ways in our out, she checked for possible hazards, and assessed a tactical value of all movable objects in the room. One does not become a captain within the ranks of the Royal Guard for nothing, and right now she was the mare on the job.

Twilight removed her hoof boots and tucked them under her seat. She knew that Silver Spoon was true to the end in her service. From a rather troublesome filly she had grown into a fine mare whose presence was not only appropriate, but appreciated as well, in accordance to the talent locked in her cutie mark. Like a teaspoon’s worth of sugar or lime was enough to improve the taste of a tea, Silver Spoon’s tiny drops of goodwill, support, but also tactful sarcasm and honest critique were enough to make Twilight’s life much more enjoyable.

Professor Inkwell waved at them with her nut box. “I think we’re ready to begin. Princess Twilight?”

“Please, go on!” Twilight replied. “I only ask you to judge the candidates by their skills and knowledge as much as their will to work hard towards overcoming what they lack at the moment.”

“Very well,” Professor Inkwell said, turning to a mare in an elegant vest. “Professor Little Tale, would you please call our first candidate?”

Despite her expectations, Twilight found herself enjoying watching the faculty at work. The members of the committee all applied to what she had proposed in her version of the recruitment procedures, and turned out not as scary in their doings as she herself remembered. They were fair and firm, but also kind while telling a candidate that he or she doesn’t quite fit their, at any rate, quite prestigious school. They provided excellent feedback, and the failed colts and fillies weren’t leaving in tears, but with a conviction that with a bit of hard work they will get in next year.

Who knows? Perhaps there was a prodigy in the rough amongst them? Princess Celestia encouraged her to seek a promising student of her own, but Twilight wasn’t sure if she was ready to form a mentor-mentee relationship with anyone at this point. She still had much to learn, and although she was all in for helping younglings grow and develop their skills—like she had done with her friends’ sisters—taking a protégé under her wings didn’t feel right for her just yet.

Good thing none of the candidates so far seemed in need of an extended curriculum. The first one presented a classical growth spell, but unfortunately the effect didn’t hold and his starburst rose shrunk back into a tiny seed. To make things worse, the pot exploded sending a flurry of clay shards at the committee, but thankfully nopony got hurt. The second candidate didn’t impress either. She came up with a cute magical juggling routine with a set of crystal orbs, but she couldn’t maintain her focus long enough, and ended up sweeping the shattered spheres off the floor.

The only accepted candidate wasn’t even a pony, but a red-eyed changeling Feeder. Studies showed that aside from their natural ability to alter their appearance, only one in ten changelings could cast spells like ponies did, albeit they were rather limited. However, once they soaked enough love energy from their surroundings, they could do much more, and even outmatch the stronger of unicorns.

Twilight recalled her last year’s trip to Changeling Hive Chrysalis. She learned a lot about their culture and customs, and she had to admit they were quite an intriguing species. What they needed was a push in the right direction, and the Cultural Exchange Treaty she had signed with Queen Chrysalis was a warrant of a greater future for both them and the Equestrians. On the top of it, they still had their “pony” inside influencing the Queen herself in a positive way.

She shook her head and returned to the matter at hoof. Professor Inkwell let out a bored sigh as she discovered she was out of snacks.

“That was the fourth one today. So far I’m not impressed.”

“Because you keep comparing them to that one you’ve had last week, Professor,” Little Tale replied. “I wasn’t there, but I know you just couldn’t stop praising her little firework show. What was her name again? Dazzle? Puzzle?”

“Razzle. She’s Beatrix Lulamoon’s daughter.”

The stallion sitting on the other side chuckled. “Ah, the actress! That would explain why the filly turned her entry exam into a show.”

“It was a good show of magical talent nonetheless,” Professor Inkwell replied. “Hopefully she’s going to work harder than her mother. Did you know she was a student of ours as well? Unfortunately she dropped out sometime during her second year.”

“You know that it’s never about getting in, but staying above the line throughout the semester,” he said. “Eh, whatever. Let’s get back to work before the Princess thinks we’re nothing but a bunch of gossipers. Please call the next candidate, Little Tale.”

“Alright, let me—wait, did some bookworm ate half of this pony’s name? Professor Inkwell?”

“Oh, no, the name is fine. But it does not belong to a pony.”

Twilight couldn’t see the gifted individual entering through the door, but once they opened she had already known. She could feel it, and she felt conflicted the moment she realized what it all meant. Part of her couldn’t believe he was back, another hated him for not contacting her as soon as he set his clawed foot in Equestria. Her usually suppressed emotional self was proud—like a sort-of-sister would be of her sort-of-brother—and demanded she went down there to support him, but the voice of reason countered it with a batch of justified worries and a substantial dose of anxiety.

Silver Spoon whispered, “Is that Spike, Princess? What is he doing here?”

Twilight frowned. “Continuing his magical studies, no doubt.”

“So he’s doing it despite your—”

“He is.”

Much like Twilight had changed over the years, Spike couldn’t be considered a baby dragon anymore, but nor was he a winged, temperamental adult residing somewhere at the heart of a blazing volcano. The best word the ponies had for describing Spike’s current stage in life was to call him a teenager, which was vastly inaccurate considering the dragons’ natural longevity and cultural differences, but conveyed the overall physical changes well enough.

The Spike standing in front of the examination committee was three times as tall as he had been when Twilight first took him to Ponyville for a Summer Sun Celebration. His tail grew longer, the green spines coming from the top of his head and down his back looked sharper, and he seemed to have lost some of his belly fat along the way. He wore a bone necklace and carried a simple travelling bag full of scrolls and several crystals protruding amongst them. He put the bundle by the lecture desk, and handed a sheet of paper to the examiners.

“Let me tell you, Mister Spike,” Little Tale began, “we don’t see many of your kind around Canterlot. The majority of our students are unicorns, we have a couple of changelings, griffons, even a houndrel or two, but dragons—dragons are a rarity,” she said, to which Spike smiled in glee. “We’re happy that you’re interested in our educational offer. To begin, I understand there are some differences in how dragons use magic in comparison to ponies. Would you care to explain it?”

“With pleasure,” Spike replied, his voice a couple of tones deeper to match his adolescence. “The model we dragons use to describe magic is identical to yours. Like one of your great scholars stated, we are all surrounded by streams of intangible particles of magic which, however invisible to our eyes, can still gather around places, objects, or individuals, and hence be manipulated.”

Professor Inkwell nodded. “Star Swirl’s Arcane Field Theory, that’s correct. The particles are inert until a magic user starts shaping them, first by attuning to the streams, then forming a spell pattern, and finally powering it with the desired spell idea to bring the effect to the open.”

“This is where our takes differ, esteemed examiners,” Spike replied. “A pony cannot activate the spell pattern if the alignment of the streams is incorrect, or the spell idea hasn’t been pictured clearly enough. The spell simply doesn’t work then, and there is no effect to the caster’s effort,” he added. “It takes great patience to go through the attuning, aligning, and envisioning, but dragons aren’t exactly known of their patience.”

Spike took a deep breath and spit a ball of emerald flames at his right hand. The flames engulfed his claws up to his wrist, storming with miniscule outbursts of magical energy, much like sparks escaping a bonfire’s blaze. He stretched his arm over his head for all to see it.

“Do not be alarmed, esteemed examiners,” he said. “What you see here is a manifestation of magic not unlike the aura forming around your horns. It only appears more, shall we say, erratic because it has not been shaped into a spell pattern just yet.”

“Interesting!” Little Tale said. “How is this possible?”

Twilight stood up and approached the balcony.

“Dragons do not ask kindly for the arcane realms to align for them,” she said. “The fire they breathe, essentially combusted contents of their lungs, has some characteristics of a magical phenomenon in itself. It resonates with the magic particles on its path, bringing them out from their inert state to the open. Isn’t that right, Mister Spike?”

Spike looked up, surprised at first, much like the ponies who turned in their seats.

“Princess Twilight Sparkle. What an unexpected honor,” he said, bowing towards her. “And you are very much correct. Once my fire gathers enough magic, I can shape it into a desired spell effect much like a unicorn does. With your permission, I would like to present my skills.”

“By all means, please.”

Spike moved his hand over his bag. The aura less stormy than the gauntlet he wielded surrounded it, and lifted it from the ground. He then used his other hand to draw some magic from the gauntlet and search through the contents of his bag without touching it. He took out a small chunk of garnet and a piece of silver, set the bag on the ground, then used both hands to remotely shape a piece of jewelry. First he bent the metal into a setting, then attached the gemstone and clasped it with another drip of silver. Sparks shot as he was expending the magic his fire breath had gathered, and he used the last bit of it to throw the earring to Twilight.

“A gift for the Princess,” he said, “and my entry presentation, esteemed examiners.”

Little Tale nodded, exchanging glances with the rest of the committee. “It seems to me that dragons cast their spells from the other end! Fascinating!” she said. “Thank you for your presentation, Mister Spike. I think we all agree that you’ll be a valued member here at Princess Celestia’s School for Gifted Individuals. We can go to formalities now, unless Princess Twilight has something to add?”

“I… I do not.”

“And how’s the earring holding?”

“It’s a work of art,” she said. “Thank you.”

“Professor Inkwell?”

“The only problem I see is that Mister Spike’s knowledge about magic is more advanced than that of our average first year student,” the mare said, signing a sheet with the school’s emblem and showing it to Spike. “However, we can’t put you straight in a higher grade because there are courses other than magic around here. You’d land in the middle of pretty advanced material without knowing the basics. What do you say to that, Mister Spike? Can you go to the first year?”

Spike grabbed the document and rolled it into a scroll. “I have come to Canterlot to learn, so it’s probably for the best to start with the basics,” he said. “Thank you, esteemed examiners. I look forward to seeing you again.”

“You bet you will!” Professor Inkwell shouted.

When Spike left the room and the committee was about to call the next candidate, Twilight’s horn was already shimmering as the streams of magic from half across the lecture hall centered their flow on her. She turned to Silver Spoon.

“I’ll be back with you shortly, and if I don’t, please take care of my things.”

“Wait, what—”

A fraction of the second later Twilight was gone.

Silver Spoon noticed the golden hoof boots strewn under Twilight’s seat. She sighed.

“She’s doing it on purpose, I swear.”

Spike eyed the scroll again. He got in!

The entry exam went rather well, all things considered, though he honestly expected more questions about the general theory of magic, like the laws of spellcasting, or the possible solutions to the arcane equilibrium conundrum. Not that he wouldn’t answer them all, or at least most of them, as thanks to Twilight—probably the smartest pony he knew—and her late night study sessions in which he was obliged to participate, he was pretty much acquainted with the topic. He only lacked practice, but that was going to change now that he’d become a student of one of the most acclaimed schools in Equestria.

Next stop: Student Service Department. It was time to find a roommate.

“Hey, Mister Spike!”

“Whoa! Twilight!” he exclaimed, jumping away at first but then immediately locking the mare in a tight hug as she appeared out of thin air. “So great to see you! Sorry if I seemed half-hearted back there, but I didn’t want them to think they should treat me any different because I know you. Did you get my letters?”

“All of them. Your notes on the dragon culture proved most insightful, and I may have cited them in my own dissertation about your kin. You’re mentioned in the sources, so don’t worry,” Twilight said, showing Spike towards a nearby lake. “Cross-indexing dragons by their chromaticity and the color of their fire seems like a neat idea, and, speaking of colors, I especially liked the part about how dragons dye their scales to impress potential mates. However, I’d like to offer a counterpoint to your claim that dragons—”

Spike captured Twilight’s muzzle in a firm grip of his claws. “Twi! I haven’t seen you for three years. Could you just shut up with your scientific nitpicking and tell me how pleased you are to see me again? You know, like ponies and their friends usually do?”

Twilight blushed. “You’re right. Sorry. I missed you, and it’s good to have you back in Equestria,” she said. “But look at you! You’ve grown!”

“Says who! Did you surpass Princess Celestia already?”

“Neither in height, nor in wisdom, and I would rather have it stay that way.”

“Well, you’ve certainly matched her in dramatic phrasing.”

“One does not—oh, very funny, Spike.”

They sat at the edge of the lake, in the shadowy bower of a neatly trimmed maple. As far as Spike could remember, that was Twilight’s favorite spot of outdoor studying. The foliage was still of dark green color, but with autumn around the corner it was going to turn red and orange in just a couple of weeks, and then deepen into vibrant shades of rich burgundy. As long as it was still warm outside, such places in the school grounds knocked spots off libraries full of dusty tomes.

Twilight immersed her hoof in the water, disturbing the peaceful surface with a cascade of ripples.

“I didn’t expect you to come back just now. You should have let me know.”

“It took me by surprise as well, to be honest,” Spike replied. “Kryvarost said there was nothing more I could learn from them now, so he advised I carried on with my journey around the world and learn what it means to be a dragon. See, I can learn customs and traditions while in the Dominion, but apparently true understanding of one’s nature comes from his experiences.”

“Ambassador Kryvarost once again hits the spot.”

“Gold ones are like that. He offered me a lift to the Equestrian border, and I thought about enrolling here while I still fit the doorjambs. Give me twenty years and it’s going to be a problem, I assure you.”

“So you’ll be studying magic. That’s… nice.”

Spike scratched up a couple pebbles from the ground. He threw one of them at a white water lily, but he missed.

“Come on. That’s not what you’re really thinking, is it?”

Twilight took out the garnet earring. Only from up close could one see multiple fractures in the silver setting which could have been caused only by the incautious use of magic. The same applied to the gemstone, which albeit flawless when Spike took it out for the first time, had miniature cracks on its surface.

She captured the earring in her own magic and hovered it over the lake. Disassembling it midair, she separated the gemstone from the setting, then reached to her mane and took out a silver hair pin. A purple wisp fell on her forehead as she bent the metal into a small circle and sent a stream of molten silver to where the original trinket had its impurities. Finally, she returned the cracked garnet to the setting, and hardened the heated metal in the lake. The way she transfigured the earring would satisfy any customer, especially one with big ears.

“What you did during the exam was wrong,” Twilight said. “There is a reason dragons don’t usually pursue the magical arts, even if some of them can. Most of the time it’s because their claws, scales, and breath solve all the problems they can possibly have, but also because they know how unstable and thus dangerous their use of magic is. This cracked gemstone is the best example.”

Spike threw another pebble at the lily, but he missed once again, cursing under his breath.

“Oh, is that so?”

“Please don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about. Without the idea preceding the spell, magic exists in its raw state. What you’re doing is taking that untamed magic to the open where you have little control over it until you expend it to cast a spell.”

“I appreciate your concern, Twilight, but I think I’ve shown my control during the exam,” Spike replied. “Besides, you use your horn to influence the magic around you while I use dragon fire. How is that different?”

“Ponies attune themselves to the streams of magic. Dragons subordinate them to their needs.”

Spike let out a low growl. He knew the topic would surface at some point, which was exactly why he didn’t want to see Twilight before the entry exam. He was more than happy to see her again, sure he was, but ever since he discovered he had a magical talent and informed Twilight of it, she had been subtly trying to discourage him from following this path. Her efforts had proven futile so far.

He stood up.

“Tread carefully, Twilight. You don’t want to make it into an argument against what dragons are.”

Twilight didn’t turn to face him, but stared at the vast expanse of the lake. “A small dose of magic is not a problem, and with sufficient willpower any caster can control it,” she said. “But you didn’t tell them about the other capability of the dragon fire, did you? Once you set the flame alight you don’t have to breathe again. You can burn the amount of magic you already have to widen the flame and take control of even more. And more, and more.”

“I know what you’re going to say. The more raw magic I hold at once, the more difficult it becomes to control it. I have my limits, I know that. Is that your point?”

“Do you know what happened to the dragons who decided to work over their limitations?”

Spike snarled, taking another failed shot at the lily. “Do enlighten me.”

The alicorn straightened up. When she looked Spike in the eyes there was no sign of disappointment or remorse in her stare, only an unspoken wish that her fears would never come true. It interwove with genuine care, but Spike couldn’t shake off the feeling that Twilight’s sisterly look of concern had lost some of the warmth he remembered from the days of old.

“Their greed has become the cornerstone of their demise,” she said. “Skotafendri, trying to teleport herself to the moon. Agriodank, convinced he could transfigure all his wealth into a single, flawless gemstone. Misoferix, trying to take his lair out of the regular flow of time,” she said. “The list goes on. Each and every one of them was consumed by their own dragon fire which they couldn’t control. I don’t want the same happen to you.”

Spike threw his hands up in despair. He was not a baby dragon anymore, he was going to study magic in Canterlot or elsewhere, and he had enough of this lecture.

“Well, if you think I’m dangerous, then why didn’t you stop the exam the moment you saw me? Surely it wouldn’t be too hard for the Princess of Equestria and the overall expert on all things magical to convince the committee to kick me out!”

Most ponies would shudder at the first sight of the imposing dragon breathing over them, and they would most certainly turn tail upon noticing that his fists were alternating between being clenched and having sets of sharp claws extended, as if to strike. There were better ways to go than to cross paths with a dragon, everypony agreed on that.

Twilight remained calm in the face of Spike’s rising anger. She first put her hoof on his scaled chest, right next to his rapidly beating heart. When she spoke, her voice wasn’t louder than a whisper.

“Because I want you to be happy,” she said. “What kind of friend would I be if I stood between you and your dreams?”

As if by magic, Spike lightened up and shook the dark instincts off his head.

“Don’t worry, Twi. I have my bad side under control.”

Twilight smiled, her horn shimmering as she put Spike’s bag on his shoulder and smoothed the strap. She clasped his hand in between her hooves. “I know you do. You may be growing into a formidable dragon, but I know for sure that you’re also kind, loyal, and true. Don’t ever lose sight of what makes you truly great,” she said. “I have to go now. There’s still like half a dozen candidates today and I have to talk to the professors afterwards. Drop by Ponyville when you have a chance, okay? Our friends will want to hear all about what you’ve been up to lately.” Twilight’s horn shined stronger as she took a step back. “Oh, and sincere congratulations on getting in! Study hard and make me proud!”

Spike chuckled. “Thanks! And I will!”

Twilight disappeared in a flash of purple light, leaving Spike alone at the edge of the lake. He exhaled a little flare which danced around his claw, then he turned his attention to the water lily he couldn’t hit earlier. He clenched his teeth and the flame grew, first into the size of a tennis ball, then again to match a watermelon. He stretched his arm and targeted the lily with the blazing inferno. He could not cheat nature, and deep inside he really did yearn for more.

Amidst the flames he spotted a silver ring with a garnet pebble, wrapped around one of his claws.

He shook his head in disbelief and heartily laughed, then moved his arm and shot the ball of fire into the water, far from the lily which just danced on the waves his spell caused.

Twilight Sparkle really was the smartest pony he knew.

Author's Notes:

Hello there!

The future development of Arcane Realms depends greatly on your opinion. The way I see it now, I don't want to make it into a lengthy tale about Spike going through all the new school challenges day by day, but I like the idea of making a series of shorter stories. Would you be interested in reading about Spike and a group of Gifted Individuals (like a certain changeling, or a famous blue mare's daughter), and their adventures in Canterlot as they learn about magic, each in their own way? I'm thinking anything ranging from mundane research at the library to complete a school assignment, through socializing at one of the many cafes, up to investigating a legend about the Howling Queen in the crystal caves underneath Canterlot...

Please let me know what you think of this story, and if you think it's worth continuing in some way.