Tales from The Portal: Minuette’s Spark

 

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 cooking up marvels. Tonight, the bar’s buzzing, and there’s Minuette, that chipper unicorn, hoof-deep in a heated chat with her pals Lemon Hearts and Twinkleshine. Something about magic, humans, and a whole lot of noble whining? This oughta be good.

 

I’m Minuette, and let me tell you, I’m about ready to spark a spell just to shut everypony up. Me, Lemon Hearts, and Twinkleshine are tucked in a corner of The Portal, cider in hoof, trying to make sense of the storm that’s hit Equestria’s schools. It all started when those humans—bless their clever, stubborn hearts—took a good look at our magic and said, “Why’s this just for unicorns?” They dusted off old lessons, the kind we teach foals before they even get their cutie marks, and flipped them upside down. Suddenly, we’ve got a whole new kind of magic engineering, and it’s changing everything.

 

See, magic’s always been part of Equestria—unicorns weave it, pegasi ride it, earth ponies grow with it. But the humans? They saw it different. They took the basic stuff—those first sparks we all feel as foals—and turned it into lessons everypony could learn. Now, every foal in Equestria gets magic class, not just unicorns. And here’s the kicker: earth pony foals are running circles around the rest of us. Their magic’s small, precise, just enough to nudge the world—think growing crops faster, coaxing roots to drink deeper. It’s why Sweet Apple Acres blooms like it does. Earth foals master those basics like it’s nothing, while unicorn foals, bless them, are still tripping over their own surges. Too much raw power, too little control. Pegasi? Their magic’s spread thin—wings, hooves, feathers—all tuned to dance on clouds or stir a breeze. They’re steady, but not sharp like earth ponies.

 

We proved it, too. Me and my team—humans, earth ponies, a few pegasi—ran the numbers, tested the spells. Earth foals can channel tiny bursts better than anypony, and the humans helped us see why: it’s not about power, it’s about focus. Unicorns grow into their magic; earth ponies just… use it, like breathing. Pegasi spread it like a breeze. These theories, validated in Canterlot’s labs, have flipped Equestria’s schools upside down. Every foal learns magic now, and it’s working—colts and fillies weaving sparks before they even hit their teens.

 

But oh, the nobles. Those high-horned unicorns in Canterlot, with their manes all a-twitch, they’re spitting fire. “Magic’s our birthright!” they cry, like earth ponies tending fields or pegasi shaping storms isn’t magic just as true. Cloudsdale’s got its own grumblers—pegasi who think teaching foals to “think like humans” cheapens their sky. They’re the same ones who sneered when humans first crossed the portal, and now they’re clutching their pearls over foals learning spells. It’s not just pride; it’s fear. They see their old ways slipping, and they blame the humans—and us, for proving them wrong.

 

Lemon Hearts snorts, tossing her mane. “Let them whine. My lab partner—y’know, that human with the glasses?—he says the nobles are just mad their foals can’t keep up.” Her cheeks flush, and she hides a grin behind her cider. Twinkleshine’s no better, her eyes soft as she mumbles, “Mine’s got this laugh… he thinks the nobles are hilarious.” She’s blushing too, and I can’t help it—my own face heats up. My partner, that idiot with his smug smirk and his way of untangling my worst spell-knots… ugh, he’s such a fool. I bite my lip, half-laughing, half-lost in the thought of him. “He’s an idiot,” I mutter, and my voice comes out too happy, too shaky. Lemon and Twinkleshine giggle, and I swat them with a hoof.

 

But the nobles aren’t laughing. They’re pushing back, calling our work “human meddling,” tying it to that mess Twilight stirred with her testimonies. They say we’re diluting Equestria’s magic, letting humans rewrite our ways. They’re wrong. This isn’t meddling—it’s truth, carved out by hooves and hands working together. The foals prove it every day, their sparks brighter than any noble’s huff. Still, I wonder… how long can we keep proving them wrong before they try to shut us down?

 

Crimson Brew here. Minuette and her crew are stirring up more than cider tonight—those sparks they’re talking about might just light a fire. The Portal’s thick with rumors, and now magic’s got everypony’s mane in a twist. Who’s gonna settle this one—foals, nobles, or a certain human with a smirk? I’m pouring cider, waiting for the next tale. Who’s it gonna be?

 

To be continued.