Tales from The Portal: Twilight’s Regret

 

I’m Crimson Brew, earth pony, dark coat, gold mane, mixing drinks with a sharp quip and sharper eye. I’m blending a cider now, bottles dancing in the air thanks to this human-made collar’s telekinesis. Humans, always spinning marvels. Tonight, the bar’s alive, but one corner’s quiet—Twilight Sparkle, Celestia’s prized unicorn, sits alone, her lavender coat dim under the weight of everypony’s glares. Word is, her rules broke half the hearts in Ponyville, and the silence around her speaks louder than any rumor.

 

I’m Twilight Sparkle, and I’ve never felt so alone. El Portal should be warm, alive with chatter, but the tables near me stay empty. Eyes dart away, hooves shuffle, voices hush when I pass. I see it in their faces—anger, hurt, betrayal. They don’t see Twilight, Celestia’s student, the mare who loves Ponyville. They see the unicorn who choked their love, who dimmed their fires. And I can’t blame them.

 

It started with duty. The human ambassador, a woman with a voice like steel, came to Canterlot with a plea—her Earth was faltering, birth rates falling, men lured to Equestria’s mysteries. She needed data, she said, to understand interspecies bonds, to balance her world. As Celestia’s student, I saw a chance to bridge our realms, to study love across borders. I crafted the testimonies—daily reports from every human bonded to a pony. I poured my heart into it, my magic sparking with every scroll, every question. I thought I was building harmony. I was wrong.

 

My enthusiasm blinded me. I didn’t see the strain—the humans, weary from my endless probes; the mares, their sparks fading as their loves came home spent. Cheerilee, that kind teacher, haunts me most. I saw her tonight, across the bar, her eyes tired but fierce, guiding Smilly Patch with a smile that hid her ache. Her human, Anon, stood close, his hand gentle but his shoulders heavy, as if carrying my questions still. I did that. My zeal, my need to perfect every task, tore at their fire.

 

The truth came too late. The ambassador’s data was a farce, her words a mask for resentment. She saw Equestria’s mares as thieves, stealing her world’s men, branding their bonds as betrayal. She wanted them gone, dragged back to Earth, their loves shattered. I was her tool, my magic twisted to sow discord. When I saw the pain in Ponyville—eyes dim, voices tight—I confronted her, unraveled her lies. I stood before the town, my apology public, my shame heavier than any spell. I ended the testimonies, but the wounds linger.

 

I visit Ponyville every two weeks, my home away from Canterlot, but it’s not the same. The mares I called friends look past me; the humans I studied avoid my gaze. I want to fix this, to mend what I broke. I’ve written to Celestia, pleading for protections for these bonds, for a way to shield their love from Earth’s spite. Maybe it’s a start. Maybe, one day, Cheerilee’s smile won’t hide pain. Maybe they’ll see me again.

 

Crimson Brew here. Twilight’s sitting quiet, but there’s a spark in her eyes, like she’s not done fighting. The Portal’s thick with tension, but it’s birthed plenty of fires before. Will this unicorn kindle trust again, or is Ponyville’s heart still too raw? I’m pouring cider, waiting for the next tale. Who’s it gonna be?

 

To be continued.