I let myself fall onto the soft grass, breathing deeply as the clear sky stretched infinitely above me. The meadow remained intact, as if the previous trials hadn't left a trace. A perfect illusion… but the tremors in my body reminded me that everything had been very real.
On the other side, Rogue silently checked the floating control panel that only she could see, hidden among strands of almost invisible magic. Her face was illuminated by the greenish glow of the runes, and her expression was a mix of frustration and focus, as if she were evaluating something that just didn't quite fit.
She clicked her tongue and muttered under her breath:
"Nothing's going as I planned…"
She stayed there a few seconds longer, analyzing in silence, then plunged a hoof into her mane. She pulled out a dark-covered notebook, worn from use, and began flipping through it quickly. Pages full of notes, diagrams, and crossed arrows—a chaotic map of ideas that only she seemed to understand.
I just watched from my spot in the grass, catching my breath while she decided my fate.
Finally, she slammed the notebook shut, tucked it away again, and fixed her gaze on me.
"Well, little genius…" she said in that half-mocking, half-calculating tone I was starting to recognize, "if you've breezed through the standard tests like they were schoolyard games… we're going to make proper use of this time, as Celestia commands."
I sat up, brushing some dirt off my side.
"What's next?"
Rogue stretched her neck, looking out at the green, bright horizon of the meadow surrounding us.
"First, physical conditioning. A brilliant mage is useless to me if your body gives out before your magic does. You'll be training endurance and agility for exactly two hours. No more for now," she added, raising an eyebrow. "I can manipulate time in here, but trust me: two straight hours are more than enough to start."
I took a deep breath, trying to stay calm as the meadow began to change again: hills rising, walls emerging from the ground, poles, ramps, and traps appearing as naturally as in a restless dream.
"And the magic part?" I asked hopefully, following the movement of the obstacles.
Rogue let out an almost feline smile.
"When we're done… I'll give you certain reading material." Her eyes gleamed for a moment. "Magic you won't find in any regular or private libraries… but that every Warden is required to master."
That cleared away some of my internal complaints, but it didn't dampen my reluctance to exercise.
I looked at the field still expanding, feeling that strange mix of anxiety and excitement.
"How much have we done so far?" I asked, probing how much longer it would last.
Rogue turned and looked at me with amusement.
"Barely three-quarters of an hour. We've got nearly five hours left of this session."
I let out a long sigh and focused again on the field, which already seemed ready to devour me.
This... is just getting started and I already want to go home.
Almost a liter of sweat and sheer determination later…
Rogue's voice echoed behind me as I ran uphill for the third time, my legs burning and my breathing pounding hard against my ribs. The meadow had morphed into treacherous terrain: steep hills, narrow tunnels, barriers that appeared without warning, all designed to keep me moving nonstop. It had already been more than an hour, and my body was starting to feel it… but I refused to slow down.
"Focus on endurance, Wizbell," she shouted from the top of a hill, watching closely without missing a thing. "And agility. No spell is going to save you if your body is the first to fall."
More than once I had considered using healing magic to ease the pain, even just a little. But I knew exactly how it would end if I did. My father had made it clear back then: 'I see you've got energy to heal yourself… then we can add a few more laps. Or maybe we'll just repeat that last part, since your limit, conveniently, stretched a bit more.'
A punishment disguised as brutal logic. Ever since… better to tough it out.
It was in the middle of a series of jumps that I heard her voice again, this time slower, almost thoughtful.
"I guess you've realized by now…" she began, walking slowly along the horizon line, "that we don't train for ordinary things. What we face… isn't something you'll find in a regular book."
I jumped a low wall and rolled across the grass to get back up immediately, not losing my pace.
"What do you mean?" I asked, panting.
Rogue stopped next to a rock monolith that had risen from the ground, planting a hoof against it like it was her makeshift podium.
"The Voids," she said, with a calm that only made the word weigh more. "Empty Spaces, if you prefer the full term. That's my specialty… and also the main reason you're here."
My pace slowed for the first time, the surprise accomplishing what neither the hills nor the walls had been able to do. I stopped, breathing hard, and looked up at her.
"Voids…" I murmured, letting the word sink in. It wasn't an unfamiliar term, but it had always been abstract—part of those legends about the veil covering our world. I'd read it in old books, scattered notes in dusty margins… but then my mind connected it to something more recent: the report I had received upon joining the agency. A fragment that explained, almost technically, the nature of the Veil and how its rupture could bring terrible consequences: the appearance of those unnatural spaces… the Voids.
And I remembered something else.
A private conversation with Celestia, during our first official meeting. I had been a genuinely curious colt, and she had answered patiently, explaining to me how Equestria existed inside a magical bubble: a self-contained, limited space. She had explained why the Sun and Moon had to be moved manually, and how that design had been imposed after a great imbalance.
"Discord was the one who trapped our world in this bubble a long time ago," she had said, in a tone that still echoed in my head. "He never explained why, but since then, Equestria has remained isolated. The natural cycle was replaced by a magical one."
At that moment, I had asked why no one tried to undo it, and her answer had been just as enigmatic:
"Because no one wants to return to the chaos of before. This bubble… it may be sealed, but it has given us stability."
Only now, with the word "Voids" ringing in my ears, did those loose pieces start to fit together.
I frowned, looking at the ground as if I could dig the truth out of it.
"Guess Discord wasn't so crazy after all…" I whispered quietly, more to myself than to her.
Rogue, who had clearly been expecting some kind of reaction, smiled faintly and nodded… but her gaze hardened, and the smile faded, replaced by a cold gleam in her eyes.
"Yes…" —her voice dropped half a tone, with an unexpected harshness— "he was a lunatic with several screws loose, no doubt about that. But he knew far more than most would care to admit… and if you ask me, I have no doubt that at some point, he crossed paths with them."
She pronounced the last word with disgust, loaded with an almost tangible repulsion. It wasn't just professional experience speaking… it was something personal. Something that, for a second, let slip the shadow of what she had lived through.
I stayed there for a moment, sweat running down my forehead, my breathing slowly returning to normal… but my mind now far more agitated than my body.
Voids. The Veil. Discord.
Everything was starting to take on a new and chilling meaning.
When I finally became aware of something beyond my own panting, I realized I was lying on my back in the grass, my muscles completely seized up and my eyes fixed on a sky so blue it almost seemed to mock me. I felt every fiber of my body burning, my legs as heavy as lead, and a sticky heat that wouldn't subside even after I'd collapsed like this.
Only then did I notice my hoodie was gone. At some point, I'd thrown it aside—or ripped it off on instinct—because the feeling had been suffocating. The magic in the garment, designed to regulate body temperature, simply hadn't been enough this time. Maybe it was just mental… but while I dragged myself through the various trials, sweating and gasping, I hadn't even had the time to think that part through.
Didn't matter. I was dead tired.
A shadow fell over me, and Rogue's annoyingly cheerful voice rang in my ears like a sharp bell.
"Well, that wraps up the physical exercises." Her tone was bright, almost… triumphant. "Now let's begin the lesson on these Voids and the protocols to follow."
I turned my head just a few degrees to see her approaching, wearing that satisfied smile that only trainers have when they manage to push their student to the absolute limit. She was happy. Happy to see me like this, exhausted, crushed by her infernal training.
As I tried to catch my breath, I couldn't help but think, incredulously: How the hell does Flash enjoy this? He loves pushing his body to the limit every day, always with that stupid grin on his face when he's drenched in sweat and covered in scrapes. For me, this… this was pure torture. Admirable, maybe… but a madness I wasn't sure I wanted to adopt as a habit.
I watched her drop a couple of thick folders next to me, then sit down calmly, as if the last few hours had never happened.
"Come on, little genius." She gave me a light tap on the side with her hoof. "I didn't plan to kill you, just to make you understand that magic isn't your only resource. Now that you're nice and softened up"—she chuckled—"we're going to cram some information into that brilliant little head of yours."
I let out a tired, resigned huff. It was exactly the kind of cynical reasoning I knew all too well… the same methodical tone my father used to have when I was just a beginner and he'd force me through stressful drills—exhausting cardio that left me shaking—only to follow up with study or magic "to reinforce the lesson." And here I was, years later, in the same situation… feeling just as dead.
Like father, like son, I thought, half-smiling despite the exhaustion.
This… this was going to be a long haul. With my legs trembling, I barely managed to sit up and get myself into some kind of position, forcing my body to stay upright, ready to be a good listener… even though every muscle begged otherwise.
It wasn't long before Rogue started talking. She didn't wait for me to fully straighten up. She simply opened one of the folders with the tip of her hoof, pulled out a set of documents marked with runes and magical seals, and began explaining as if giving a university lecture.
"I'm not leaving you alone with these papers," she said firmly. "This isn't abstract theory or experimental magic. These are protocols. And in this line of work, a single mistake can cost you your life… or worse, someone else's."
I forced myself to sit up, still shaking, and tried to focus on the documents in front of me. She organized them into clear sections, pointing precisely at each one as she spoke.
"When you detect or suspect the presence of a Void, there's no room for doubt or improvisation. You have to follow the established steps. To the letter."
She took a breath. Her tone shifted, becoming more direct and almost automatic. This wasn't Rogue speaking with sarcasm or superiority anymore: it was the agent speaking in her professional voice.
"Step one: isolate the area. Prevent the Void from spreading. Even if you can't fully contain it, you need to stabilize the surrounding zone."
"Step two: redirect civilians. No one untrained should be nearby. Even brief exposure can be dangerous if the Void is active."
She turned the page precisely. Each point was backed by small annotations detailing the consequences… but the images had been omitted out of consideration. There was no need to show them to understand the gravity.
"Step three: place the seals to activate the spatial distortion magic formation. This will prevent curious eyes from seeing what's happening from the outside. At first glance, it'll look like a zone blocked by fog, visual glitches, or magical distortion. It's not perfect, but it's usually enough to buy time."
Rogue passed her hoof over the diagram showing the basic setup of the seals and added firmly:
"The magic formation also has a defensive function: it disorients any pony who tries to enter without authorization. If you don't have an active WARDS or SMILE badge, the barrier will subtly repel you. It might make you walk back the way you came without realizing it… or worse: keep you circling around it, only to end up back where you started without ever setting hoof inside."
She paused before concluding:
"Only someone with a special talent for breaking this type of seal… or exceptional brute power, like Princess Celestia, could pass through it unaffected."
I stared at the symbols, fascinated by the precision of that magic. It didn't just hide… it actually played with perception.
"Step four," she continued, lifting a bluish crystal from a hidden compartment inside the folder, "use the reporting artifact. This crystal is linked to a twin guarded at Central. When activated, it emits an alert signal that's automatically triangulated. From there, Central will dispatch a response squad."
She held it up for a few seconds so I could get a good look. It wasn't just a simple crystal: it was framed in a sturdy metal casing that protected it from physical damage. Both the frame and the interior of the stone had fine runes engraved on them, pulsing softly, almost imperceptibly unless you looked closely. A compact artifact… but loaded with functional magic.
I tried to lean closer, but my muscles gave out, keeping me in place, unable to move an inch further.
"What if the crystal doesn't work?" I asked as soon as the doubt formed in my mind.
Rogue looked at me, serious, but with a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, appreciating the good question.
"That depends on your role in the agency." Her eyes locked onto mine. "If you're a scientist, a researcher, a mediocre… retreat. There's no alternative. But if you're an Element of the Containment and Destruction branches…" —she leaned forward slightly, her gaze as hard as steel— "do your duty. You don't want that guilt weighing on your conscience."
There was no humor in her voice this time.
I stayed silent, feeling that invisible weight crushing my chest again, though now it wasn't from physical exhaustion.
Rogue's words echoed in my head: retreat… or do your duty.
I forced myself to look at her a few seconds longer, then lowered my gaze to my own hooves, my breathing still ragged but gradually steadying. A scientist, a researcher… an observer? Let others handle it, limit myself to studying from the safety of a lab, far from the real threat?
For a moment, I considered it. It was the logical way out, the prudent one. The… safe choice.
But almost immediately, something inside me twisted with a visceral rejection. A knot in my stomach, a silent disgust I couldn't ignore.
Leave my fate in the hands of others? Close my eyes and hope someone else faces what I discovered first?
That thought felt alien to everything I considered my own. Cold, distant… far from the individuality I had forged since coming to this world. It wasn't arrogance. It wasn't empty heroism. It was the uncomfortable certainty that if I could act… I had to.
I looked up at Rogue again, who was still waiting without saying a word, as if she could read every one of those doubts in my face.
Rogue held my gaze for a few more seconds, eyes narrowing, silently assessing me. Then, almost as if she couldn't help it, she let out a soft sigh.
"It's a look I'll never get used to seeing…" she murmured, her tone a mix of discomfort and respect. "I don't like it, and kid…"—she lowered her head a bit, more serious than ever—"I really hope you talk this over with your parents. Your decision carries a lot of weight… more than you realize."
I just nodded, feeling how, with every passing second, that decision which had seemed like a vague cloud now solidified inside me, taking a definite shape. I didn't need words to know it: I felt it in every fiber of my body, even now, drained as I was.
I had grown tired of just following along. I'd done it in my previous life… and where had it gotten me? Nowhere. No real sense of achievement, no lasting satisfaction. Just the empty routine of fulfilling others' orders and expectations, walking a path laid out by someone else.
Since I woke up that morning in this world—confused, disoriented, and afraid—I had focused all those emotions on something tangible: magic. It was my lifeline. I threw myself into it with an almost total obsession, not just because it was fascinating, but because it kept me from overthinking. If I left space to think… my mind might betray me. So magic became my refuge and my compass.
And it worked. To some extent.
Until I found a dream.
Since then, I've kept moving forward, step by step, without veering off. That dream had nothing to do with being just an observer. My gift… my abilities… weren't meant just to watch from a distance. I could do more.
Being an observer… was no longer an option.
The silence stretched out for just a couple more seconds, until Rogue, with a slight throat-clear, broke the charged atmosphere that had settled in the air.
"Let's not get off topic," she said, slipping back into her firm, methodical tone, as if nothing had happened.
She opened another folder and slid new data and tables toward me.
"The next protocols focus on the investigation phase. Once the area is sealed off and the wards are placed, the first thing you need to do is determine the threat level."
She tapped the document lightly with her hoof to emphasize her point.
"From the moment you sealed the place, you should've already assessed how large the spatial rupture is, the magnitude of the Void that's formed. That's your first key indicator."
She flipped the page and pointed precisely.
"Next is to look for any anomalies in the area. Most of the time…"—she gestured with her hoof—"there's nothing special. Just distorted empty space. But you can't let your guard down. Anomalies can vary wildly, and you have to be ready to recognize them."
She began listing them, marking each point with an almost automatic tone, but her eyes stayed fixed on me to make sure I didn't miss a word:
"One of the most common: ecosystem alterations. Withered vegetation, eroded soil, dead or vanished animals… all due to the lack of magic in the affected area."
"Another: color loss. The affected zone can turn monochrome, grayish… a clear symptom that the ambient magic is being drained or distorted beyond normal."
"There can also be magical interference. Something like… static within the magic itself. You try to cast a spell and notice irregularities: sparks, failures, lack of response, or even unexpected distortions in your magic."
She paused for a moment, letting those images settle in my head.
"And now… the most dangerous part."
Her tone dropped slightly, slower and heavier.
"When an entity can be perceived in the area."
I felt a slight shiver.
"These entities can appear in several forms. Some are in a faulty transfer stage, a failed transition: trapped halfway between our dimension and theirs. Not fully here, but not fully there either. Others are just shadows, remnants of entities lost in overlapping planes… almost like ghosts that never managed to fully materialize."
She looked at me seriously, eyes locked onto mine.
"But the worst situation you can face…"—she leaned forward slightly—"is when the entity is physically right in front of you. Not trapped, not lost between dimensions… but one that managed to cross the Veil and land in our reality."
"Depending on your own luck… you'll know just how screwed you are," she said bluntly, her eyes narrowing. "Because that entity standing before you might be an S-level Threat, where a simple exchange of glances means your death… or worse: being dragged into its dimension without warning."
She leaned back, crossing her legs as if recalling something unpleasant.
"Or it might just be an intruder… an uninvited guest in our world who managed to slip through the Veil by accident. Their stay is usually brief in those cases: the Veil itself tends to reject them once the fissure starts healing."
She paused, lowering her voice with gravity.
"The problem starts… when the Void refuses to close. When something, or someone, clings to the passage and won't let it seal naturally. That's when true hell begins."
I felt a knot form in my throat, but I didn't look away.
She flipped through one more document, pulling out a report that looked worn from heavy use.
"So far," she continued, her voice taking on a more reflective tone, "we've only recorded one documented case of a non-harmful entity that fully crossed the Veil."
I raised my head a bit more, intrigued.
"And what happened?" I asked quietly.
Rogue let out a dry laugh, humorless.
"It lasted as long as a breath. Came and went. Had no interest in us. Didn't try to communicate, didn't cause havoc… it simply crossed over, glanced around"—she made a broad gesture with her hoof—"and vanished without a trace."
She stared at an invisible point on the horizon, her expression hardened.
"Its danger level… S," she emphasized, locking eyes with me. "Because even though it did nothing, that thing tore through the Veil like it was nothing… with a single swipe of its claw, it ripped reality itself."
A shiver ran down my spine… but it wasn't fear, not exactly. More of a curious thought: there was nothing concrete in my mind to fully grasp that creature. It would've been amazing to witness it for real, to feel it with my magical sense… to know how my magic would've tried to categorize it.
I had no way to quantify what an S-level meant. It was a concept that sounded colossal, but in my mind it remained just that: an idea, something too abstract to truly scare me.
What really caught me… was imagining it.
Ponies… small, fluffy, affectionate creatures, facing something like that. Day after day, ready to react if something—something incomprehensibly bigger than us—materialized. I visualized entire squads moving with precision, conjuring seals, racing against the clock to stop something that shouldn't exist from ripping our world apart.
And that… that intrigued me more than any horror story or warning. Not the entity itself… but the ability to respond, to fight the impossible.
Rogue watched me silently for a few seconds, as if she could read part of what was taking shape on my face.
"You've got that look again…" she murmured, crossing her legs. "The look of someone processing way too fast."
I didn't answer right away. I was still seeing those mental images in my head, putting myself—if only in thought—in the place of those agents who faced things that couldn't be explained or defeated in the usual way.
And I understood something very basic but powerful: that was what truly drew me in. The scale of the challenge. The limit of what was possible.
Rogue closed the last folder with a sharp snap and stood up, shaking out her mane a little.
"Well… now it's time to observe a particular case." Her tone regained that confident, almost satisfied energy. "Excellent for showing how the protocols must be followed."
Before I could ask anything, the scenery began to change. The magical meadow and the documents beside me stayed in place, but the surroundings blurred, as if an invisible curtain was dissolving into vapor. Little by little, we emerged in what looked like one of those many rural towns scattered around the outskirts of Canterlot.
It was peaceful, almost idyllic: simple houses, well-kept fields, the usual sounds of birds and animals in the distance. Everything… normal.
Until it wasn't anymore.
My attention zeroed in on a point, seemingly random, in the middle of a green field. The grass, bright and healthy, began to rot at an unnatural speed. The blades yellowed, then turned gray and black, crumbling into dry dust. The circle of corruption expanded rapidly, spreading like an uncontrolled virus.
Soon, an entire area was devoid of magic. I could feel it, even though it was a simulation: that emptiness, that kind of intangible hollow where something was missing. But the sensation… was simulated. So far, it had been the only thing that didn't feel real.
The animals reacted first. Instinctively, they tried to flee, scared and disoriented… but those penned up in corrals or stables had no escape. Their cries faded quickly, and a heavy silence fell over the affected zone, as if even sound had been swallowed.
From my elevated position, I could see some ponies from the town, drawn by the commotion, cautiously approaching, curiosity on their faces.
But before they could get close… a team appeared.
A small group of ponies in light armor with WARDS symbols on their uniforms materialized in the scene almost soundlessly. Fast, methodical, wasting no time. Two agents immediately positioned themselves on the path, blocking the civilians, raising magical barriers to cut off visibility and prevent any leaks of information. Their spells were precise: the curious onlookers couldn't see anything beyond a dense kind of mist that rose in front of them.
Another agent—a unicorn with a severe look—quickly unrolled a scroll and began inscribing the seals around the perimeter, activating the spatial distortion formation almost at once. The runes flashed briefly before settling into a steady, faint glow.
From where we were, only the tense, worried murmurs of the townsponies could be heard as they discussed among themselves, trying to figure out what was happening beyond that magical barrier.
The scene shifted again, almost as if an invisible camera had crossed the veil, and now we were inside the raised barrier.
What I saw made my skin crawl.
In the middle of the dead area, where the magic had completely disappeared, a quadrupedal creature was walking, disoriented. It had long, thin limbs, almost insect-like, ending in sharp claws that curved as if designed to tear. Its body was pure shadow, with no defined features beyond that tense, elongated silhouette.
But the strangest thing was… it didn't interact with anything. It walked in circles, sometimes turning its head toward a nonexistent sound, other times stumbling over its own limbs, as if it couldn't find a point of reference.
It was… just a shadow.
Rogue broke the silence, her tone analytical, almost clinical.
"Entity in partial transfer," she said. "It's not really here… but not there either. This is what we call a dimensional residue. It usually doesn't pose an immediate threat, but it's unstable and can either evolve… or dissipate on its own."
I kept watching, eyes fixed on the creature as it continued to wander aimlessly, like an animal trapped between realities.
It wasn't scary in the classic sense. It was more… unsettling. And that, somehow, made it even worse.
While I watched the creature keep circling, disoriented, something in the scene shifted.
From the edge of the magical barrier, two figures appeared. My heart jumped immediately when I recognized them.
Willstone. My father.
And beside him… a younger Rogue, still recognizable, but with a posture less hardened by experience. Her movements were quick, but there was a kind of bold curiosity in them, the same analytical gaze she still showed today… but far less burdened by the years.
Both approached with calm precision, circling the shadow without fear, evaluating it. My father checked a glowing artifact, confirming measurements, while Rogue stepped a few paces closer, almost to the limit of the protocol, studying the entity with a critical eye.
The interaction… was minimal. The creature continued its erratic behavior, not responding or showing aggression, leaving me with a strange sensation: something so potentially dangerous, and yet, so oblivious to us.
But soon, the scene sped up, as if time itself had jumped forward.
A second team appeared on site. A squad specialized in Destruction. They moved differently: heavier, more armored, with reinforced equipment. The tension rose immediately. It was clear that this time, they weren't there just to observe.
Rogue—younger, but already with that determined voice—spoke a term that stuck with me instantly: "Extermination authorized."
The protocol had changed.
I watched as the new team began deploying a complex spell. The very air seemed to tighten when a unicorn from the group, one of the leaders, tore the Veil of reality with a powerful incantation. The magical rift opened as if they were slicing through an invisible canvas, a wound in space that glowed with raw, destabilizing intensity.
And at that exact moment, I knew without needing to see it: the creature reacted.
Everything froze. The scene didn't show the direct confrontation. Just a sudden jump forward in time… and then, as if we had skipped to the last page of the report, we saw the ponies of the team emerging from that sealed space.
Injured. Limping. Some helping comrades who were clearly in bad shape after the fight. But their eyes, their movements… showed something unmistakable: triumph.
They had completed their mission successfully.
The rift slowly sealed behind them, and the air returned to normal… though still heavy with that dull echo of brutal magic. The environment remained damaged, but another team of ponies was already at work: beginning to revitalize the land and eliminate any traces of what should not be seen, or that might cause panic among civilians.
Beside me, Rogue—the present-day one, not the one in the scene—watched in silence, her expression hard, but also filled with respect.
She didn't need to say anything else at that moment. The lesson was there, right in front of my eyes: from containment to elimination, this was the complete process… and its risks were as great as the things that lay beyond the Veil.