I was replaying those past scenes in my mind, surrounded by nobles with fake smiles and empty words. They didn't see me. They didn't see Wizbell, the pony. They only saw Celestia's apprentice, the magic prodigy… and the stallion. Titles and status that opened doors, yes, but also invisible traps. All of that always made me uncomfortable.
But now the situation was different. Twilight… was being emotional. Well, she was a mare, of course, but also logical and analytical. Seeing her like this, almost sentimental, threw me off. Is it mating season for mares? Weird.
Telling the truth and hurting her right in her vulnerable moment felt cruel. I could almost hear Tia's voice telling me what to say. But what did I really have to lose? Time, perhaps. And time… is the one thing I have plenty of.
"I can go," I finally said. "But only if there are enough tickets for everyone."
When I finished, she looked up. Her eyes lost that sad puppy look, and a wide, genuine smile appeared on her face. She probably learned that from Cadance.
"Hugh!" she exclaimed, hugging me tight, almost squeezing me.
"Do you promise?" Twilight asked urgently, still holding me with no intention of letting go. She looked at me with such intensity her gaze almost burned, so I had to look away.
"Yes, I promise. I promise I'll go."
A voice suddenly interrupted.
"Make a Pinkie Promise!" said Pinkie Pie, peeking through the window and staring at us through the glass. I swear for a moment I saw a flag with strange symbols… I could have sworn it was an umbrella with my cutie mark and Twilight's underneath. Weird.
Twilight looked at me confused, just like I was, not quite understanding what a Pinkie Promise even was.
"Oh, you city ponies!" exclaimed Pinkie Pie upon seeing our confusion. "Look, this is how you do a Pinkie Promise."
She entered the house with her usual chaotic energy, and I couldn't help but wonder how she bypassed the magic barrier — though, honestly, not impossible.
Twilight paid full attention to the ritual Pinkie Pie began to explain.
"First, you raise a hoof," she said, moving hers through the air like drawing a circle, "and say: 'Cross my heart.'"
Then she touched her eye as if threading a needle and added, "'Hope to fly.'"
Finally, she mimed shoving a cupcake into her mouth and exclaimed, "'Stick a cupcake in my eye!'"
Twilight nodded and turned to me.
"Did you get it?" she asked.
I nodded.
"It's a childish promise, easy to follow."
"Then swear it!" she insisted, very determined to make me do it.
I glanced at Pinkie Pie behind her, who smiled and waved a little flag, cheering… though not exactly for me, judging by the energy.
I sighed and sat down to perform the ritual.
I settled on the floor — no room for comfort — ready to seal the promise. As I raised my hoof to begin, I felt a mischievous gaze from the corner of the room.
Stella, curled up in her usual spot, was watching me with her golden eyes sparkling with mischief. Almost comically, she began to mimic my movements in silence: lifting her paw, moving it through the air like drawing a circle, and dramatically pretending to shove a cupcake in her mouth.
She smiled subtly, satisfied with her little performance. I couldn't help but give a slight smile back.
I turned my attention again to Twilight and Pinkie, both waiting expectantly.
"Cross my heart," I said, moving my hoof in the air.
"Hope to fly," I added, touching my eye.
"Stick a cupcake in my eye," I finished, miming the cupcake motion.
Twilight and Pinkie both smiled back warmly, and the air filled with a sense of shared trust.
"Now that I helped you with the promise… can I have my ticket, pleeease~?" Pinkie Pie asked as she hugged Twilight with enthusiasm, trying to squeeze a ticket out of her like a sponge.
Twilight's left eye twitched slightly, clearly uncomfortable.
"Right," she muttered. "I still have to sort this out…"
She turned to me with a grateful smile.
"Thanks, Wizbell. Now I know what to do."
Twilight pushed Pinkie Pie off her and left her suspended mid-air for a moment to make a quick escape.
Pinkie puffed her cheeks in frustration at not getting her ticket. She stayed like that until her hooves touched the ground, and then immediately bolted after Twilight, yelling:
"Wait, Twilight! You're not leaving without me!"
Peace and calm finally returned to the house, as if the wind had swept away all the chaotic energy Pinkie had left behind. Silence filled the space, broken only by the soft hum of protective enchantments keeping the place safe and hidden.
I leaned against the wall, letting weariness take over slowly.
"Well… that was intense," I said, exhaling, still processing Pinkie's overflowing energy.
Stella, still in her cozy corner, shot me a sly look. Her golden eyes sparkled with a glint of mischief as she tilted her head.
"You like the nerrrrd!" she blurted, grinning like she'd just discovered the universe's biggest secret.
I frowned at her, half amused, half resigned.
"Stella!" I groaned, as if to scold her, though I didn't really mean it.
Stella quickly dodged the cushion I threw at her with magic.
"I don't need to be a feline to smell herrr interest in you!" she declared with glee. "She practically rubbed her soul against you in that hug!"
I hurled more pillows at her to shut her up, but with a magical flicker, she dodged them all with elegance.
"Cadance was rrr-right about you two," she continued, smirking. "Two cute nerrrds reading under the moonlight and the stars —" she sidestepped another pillow gracefully "— there's no relationship that doesn't blossom in that kind of setting! And you just make it easier for her to fall in love with all your chivalry and kindness because she's your best friend. Bah! Even the rose sees the potential!"
The more she talked, the more things I threw at her. This wasn't a topic I wanted to discuss — I tried to avoid it. But Stella loved it, and her grin made it clear.
"Hehehe, ever since we got to Ponyville, my arsenal's only grown, Wizbell. I hold the high ground!" Stella said triumphantly. "Each day I get stronger! You and Flash will fall!"
She let out a manic laugh that echoed through the house.
I decided it was time for a tactical retreat and went straight to the lab.
From there, just as I closed the door behind me, I heard her shout through the walls:
"You won't escape forever, Wizbell! I know where you sleep!"
———————————————
So… where should I start?
I looked around at the chaos ruling my laboratory. Scattered materials, tools everywhere, magical sketches hanging from threads of energy… there was no clear order anymore. Well, none that was standardized. It was my order. A chaotic system that only I understood.
I'd had a decent enough break. It was time to get back to work.
With a small pulse, I activated the magical radio. A soft stream of electronic music filled the room. Steady rhythm, no lyrics—perfect for thinking without distraction.
First, the obvious: get rid of all the trash. Defective materials, malformed objects from failed summoning attempts. Some were absurd, like the clock that measured years instead of hours… or the lamp that cast shadows in reverse.
None of it was truly useless, of course. Every failure had taught me something about the limits of my new magical creation spell. I couldn't summon things I didn't fully understand. I couldn't skip steps. Logic, structure, prior knowledge—it all mattered.
I walked to a discard box and began tossing away each failed experiment with precise mental labels: "Too unstable," "Incompatible material," "Physics unnecessarily violated," "Stella almost touched it—dispose now."
As I worked, an idea began to take shape in my mind. Nothing big. Just… the feeling that something new was coming.
I knew banishment magic. Pretty well, in fact. But that spell, as useful as it sounded, wasn't reliable. It just sent objects to random coordinates somewhere in the world… making it a rather unethical—and frankly irresponsible—way to dispose of dangerous materials. What if they ended up in a garden? Or worse, a school?
No. I needed a more efficient solution. Something more… controlled.
Maybe I could develop a disintegration spell… I thought, sweeping my gaze across a group of warped flasks. It would be incredibly useful. But also very deadly if misused. I'd need limits, barriers, magical firewalls… any mistake and I could accidentally vaporize something living.
Or someone.
I frowned. That's when a new idea sparked. More elegant. More… natural.
What if, instead of destroying, I convert matter back into magic?
Everything is magic, in one state or another. It was, it is, and it will be. I could accelerate that process. Return the world to its base energy without violence. Like a magical form of recycling. Assisted alchemical dismantling.
Yes. That had potential.
With a flick of magic, I summoned a clean scroll that floated into place. The ink began to flow even before the quill touched the paper.
Magical conversion of inanimate matter → accelerated process of stable energy dissolution…
The first traces of the spell circle were already dancing in my mind.
This wasn't just cleanup.
It was progress.
I already knew the necessary formulas. I'd used them in my last creation spell.
I just needed to alter them slightly, invert their function, and add a few extra containment steps. I could already see it clearly: the material itself would become unstable, as if transmuted from within, and the surrounding magic—or its own remaining essence—would complete the process.
A chain reaction. Precise. Clean. Self-contained.
All I had to do was initiate the sequence: disrupt or alter a part of its magical structure… and the rest would unravel on its own. It would dissolve back into pure arcane energy, ready to rejoin the natural cycle. As if it had never been solid matter.
But then I paused.
I wonder… would this affect living beings?
The thought drifted in like a dark cloud. Organic matter was also condensed magic, just on a more complex level. But living beings had something more. They had a soul.
Maybe… maybe that would be enough.
The soul might reject the spell, I thought. It might interpret it as an attack, as a threat, and the organism's vital magic would trigger an automatic defense. A kind of arcane rejection.
Maybe, I admitted. Though I didn't know for sure.
The field of souls remains a frontier. One that almost no one dares to fully explore.
And tempting as the theory was, I had no intention of testing it on a living being.
At least… not one from this world.
I stayed silent after that thought, watching the ink continue to flow across the scroll with near-automatic precision, guided by my magic. There was no hesitation in the stroke. No doubt in the structure.
But inside me… there was doubt.
It wasn't a spell I planned to cast. Not yet. Not without testing. Not without safeguards.
But if there's one thing I've learned since coming here, it's that the line between what's moral and what's practical blurs quickly when necessity tightens its grip.
And if I ever faced them again… those warped creatures that consume magic, that corrupt existence itself… then maybe a spell like this would be the only thing standing between life and extinction.
But it wouldn't work on them…
I knew it. Deep down, I knew.
They weren't from this world.
Their structure… was something else. Chaotic. Unstable. Foreign.
Outside any known magical system.
They interacted with magic, yes—but only like parasites. Like fire on paper. They consumed it, devoured it, emptied it out.
They didn't use it. They didn't obey it.
Their bodies didn't follow the magical laws of this world.
I could consider them, in practical terms, as non-magical entities.
And if that was true, then my spell… would simply ignore them. There would be nothing to convert. No compatible structure to dissolve into energy.
Only emptiness.
As mundane, in a way, as my old world.
I sighed, pausing the quill for a few seconds.
That's where the real problem came in. Where the most dangerous question emerged:
What about their soul…?
Do they have one?
And if they do, how would it respond to a spell like this?
Would it reject it, like a living being with a conscious soul?
Or would it be absorbed too—converted into energy, emptied out like everything else?
I kept myself busy, cleaning and sorting while the idea continued to unfold in my head. My body moved on autopilot, levitating objects, classifying flasks, deactivating old circles… but my mind remained buried in formulas, schematics, and concepts on magical conversion.
When someone knocked at the door, I had just finished cleaning. The lab was, for the first time in hours, in a presentable state.
I, on the other hoof… not so much.
I had been focused, writing the first true draft of the spell, the quill dipped in enchanted ink floating midair. I had to interrupt it with a light magical gesture, carefully closing the scroll before an unfinished line compromised the circle.
I sighed and walked to the entrance.
I wasn't expecting visitors.
And definitely not them.
I opened the door.
"Hello, Tia…" I said, a mix of surprise and respect in my voice. "Hello, Princess Luna."
They were both there, standing side by side. Celestia radiated her usual warm serenity, the kind that seemed to soften the very air around her.
And Luna, at her side, wore that neutral expression that always seemed to be calculating more than it revealed. She observed in silence... and then nodded.
"Forgive the sudden visit, Wizbell," Celestia said gently. "We simply came to talk about your recent experience… and to ensure you're alright."
I nodded and stepped aside to let them in.
"Come in. Please, make yourselves comfortable in the living room," I said, gesturing politely.
Celestia was the first to notice the change.
As soon as they crossed the threshold, the outside world vanished: all sound faded, the temperature cooled to a pleasant breeze, and a subtle magical calm blanketed everything like a veil.
Celestia smiled with a mix of approval and affection.
"Enchanting your own home… very you, Wizbell. Very you."
"So, what exactly do you want to talk about?" I asked, after offering them chilled lemon tea with a touch of sugar.
Luna was the first to respond, her voice carrying that ancient tone, like the echo of centuries. It spoke with authority… but behind that mask, I could feel it: curiosity. And something else... pity, perhaps?
"We would like you to recount your heroic battle against… Comet," she said, pronouncing the name with care. "And to share in detail everything you discovered about such a vile creature."
Celestia gave me only a serene smile before leaning slightly toward her sister to whisper something.
"Alright, little sister," she said softly. "Just lower the tone a bit. And remember... we speak as I now, not as we."
They both looked at me expectantly.
"I assume you've already seen the memories… but still have questions. Or maybe you want my interpretation." I placed a hoof under my chin, thinking aloud.
"Yes. Very astute," Celestia nodded, pleased to see I caught on, her eyes shining with unhidden pride. She looked at Luna as if to say "Told you."
So I began.
I explained what I sensed about the monster—how it absorbed magic, how quickly it adapted to my spells. Its absurd speed, especially given its size… and most importantly, its mind. It wasn't a mindless creature. It lacked high intelligence, but its tactical instinct was remarkable. Analytical. Reactive. It adjusted its behavior after every failed attack.
It didn't strike randomly. It learned.
And the more I spoke, the more I could tell Celestia was enjoying it—listening intently, smiling subtly, clearly taking pride in my words before her younger sister.
Luna, on the other hoof, nodded slowly, absorbing every detail. She no longer looked like the untouchable princess. She listened with narrowed eyes, as though she were finally hearing answers to questions she hadn't dared to voice.
When I finished my account, a brief silence settled between us. Celestia took a sip of tea with elegance, clearly pleased. Luna, however, leaned forward slightly, her eyes fixed on mine.
And then she began.
"What was the first spell you used against it? And how did the creature react to its impact?" she asked bluntly.
"Do you notice a difference between the moment it begins adapting and the moment it counterattacks? Is there a response window? A pattern?" she added immediately, linking the question to the last.
Her tone wasn't interrogative. She spoke like someone dissecting an enemy across a battlefield map.
I nodded slowly, digging through my memory.
"I started with basic magic," I replied calmly, looking at Luna. "Telekinesis, specifically. A direct, efficient, simple spell… but very revealing."
Luna tilted her head slightly, paying close attention.
"That's when I discovered it actively absorbs magic. The energy didn't harm it. It devoured it. I could feel the spell draining as it touched it. Like my magic was unraveling on contact."
"And you distanced yourself from the group at that point?" Luna asked, sharp as ever.
"Yes," I nodded. "I moved away from Twilight and the others as fast as I could. I couldn't risk its adaptability growing stronger if we faced it together. I tested other forms of magic once I was alone: fire, ice, projection, compressed shields, even illusions. Nothing really worked."
I paused briefly.
"The only thing that had an effect… was my sacred attribute."
The sisters exchanged a look.
Celestia remained silent, but Luna narrowed her eyes slightly, as though that statement had opened a dozen new threads of thought.
"And how did the creature react to that?" Luna asked at last, her voice lower, almost contemplative.
"It resisted it," I said calmly, still looking into my tea. "The creature could absorb it—but not without consequence. Contact with my sacred magic burned it, and though it did manage to consume the spell, it visibly weakened its regenerative ability."
Both princesses leaned forward slightly.
"Somehow," I continued, "it breaks down all forms of magic to their purest state before absorbing them. But there was a noticeable difference in the process: when I used fire, it took it in almost instantly. But when I used my sacred trait… it hesitated. Not long, just one or two seconds. But in combat, that's an eternity."
Luna nodded slowly, as if mapping out strategies in her mind.
"And then…" I added, my voice growing more serious, "it became like a black hole. It began absorbing all magic around it. Like my attack pushed it into a state of total consumption. A defensive or survival instinct, perhaps. But in that state… it was nearly impossible to fight."
"How did you withstand it?" Luna asked, a real hint of concern slipping into her tone.
"I mimicked it," I said bluntly. "I replicated its state. Forced my magical field into a similar phase: passive total absorption. For those few seconds… we were both draining the environment. It was the only way to keep my magic intact."
Celestia widened her eyes slightly, surprised even after having seen the memory. Luna, on the other hoof, said nothing—but her pupils had just barely dilated.
"We saw it in your memory," Celestia finally said, her voice calm but her gaze glowing with barely hidden pride. "But we didn't understand how you did it."
She paused, letting the weight of her words settle.
"There is no record of any known spell or magical theory that replicates what you did, Wizbell. It doesn't exist in grimoires, nor in academic treatises. What you demonstrated… was new."
She crossed her forelegs elegantly, never breaking eye contact.
"Right now, magical researchers are trying to recreate that phenomenon. They're developing spells, artifacts—anything that can help field agents resist. Because if they can't preserve their magic against these enemies… they'll perish. And not just them."
Her eyes grew more serious.
"That's why," she continued, "we'd like you to share how you achieved such a feat. Not as a princess. Not as your mentor. But as someone who understands that knowledge, when hoarded, becomes useless… and when shared, can save lives."
"Uh… Tia, do you remember what my main research focus has been?" I asked, plainly, locking eyes with her.
Celestia blinked. For the briefest moment, she looked puzzled… but only for an instant. Then her eyes widened slightly—as if she'd just closed every magic circle at once.
"My magic ring…" Celestia murmured, a mix of realization and wonder in her voice. "Of course… the one you've had since you were a colt. It was always such a mystery… and in the end, it turned out to be your lifeline."
Luna frowned, clearly out of the loop.
"Magic ring?" she asked, glancing between the two of us. "What are you talking about?"
Celestia turned back to me, as if giving me permission to explain. Or maybe just inviting me to show off a little.
I nodded slowly.
"About twelve years ago, when I was just a colt…" I began, lighting up my horn with a soft glow. A thin magical mist floated above the living room table, and images began to take shape within it. "I was taking the entrance exam for the School for Gifted Unicorns."
The illusion formed: a large classroom, teachers watching from a raised platform, and a small pastel yellowish-white unicorn colt with a determined gaze… standing before an opalescent egg resting on a bed of straw.
"My test was to make an egg hatch," I continued, as the figures subtly moved, recreating the scene. "That egg… was Stella."
Luna raised her eyebrows slightly in surprise. Celestia simply watched with a quiet smile. The projected scene froze just as little Wizbell lowered his head in concentration.
"The test dragged on longer than expected. I took my time. I analyzed every rune, every heat channel… I wanted to understand everything before taking action."
And then, across the illusion, a rainbow wave surged through the classroom, distorting the magical edges.
"Just when I was about to begin… this happened."
The aura representing the wave of magic burst silently. It was light. Pure harmony. It had no form, but it filled every corner. Even as an illusion, it felt overwhelming.
"A wave of magic flooded the school. Pure harmony. Like a major resonance. I don't know exactly what it was… but it was dense. Immense. Beautiful."
I saw how both sisters were now paying even more attention.
"My magic flared beyond control. I was too young to contain that much power."
"Then how…?" Luna began.
"Let him continue," Celestia interrupted gently, her eyes still fixed on me.
I swallowed, and the illusion shifted.
"My soul… my entity… is different." My voice dropped a little. "I went to a place… to a concept no one should ever know. Maybe that's why I was gray back then."
The image on the table showed a colt with dull, grey fur and lifeless eyes, sitting on a bed. Like a broken doll.
"But that journey gave me a gift. A knowledge I can't fully comprehend, because it surpasses earthly understanding. However, in my moment of greatest desperation, I longed for control. And I entered a trance… remembering that place."
The illusion returned to the classroom.
"I guided the magic inward. I didn't release it. I absorbed it. I channeled it. I made it orbit around my heart… the core of my life. And also, the focal point of my magic."
A glowing replica of an equine heart appeared at the center of the projection, slowly encircled by a thin magical ring spinning around it.
"That's how I created my magical core in my heart. And from there… my first magic ring was born. Once it stabilized, it became constant. I didn't have to maintain it. It wasn't a spell… it was mine."
The illusion pulsed softly, as if that moment still resonated in the air.
I placed a hoof on my chest.
"And that's when it appeared. For the first time. The magic ring. Not as a spell. Not as a summoning. As… an extension of me."
The silence that followed my words was dense. Celestia held her usual serene expression, but said nothing. She was letting me speak… letting me show. But Luna couldn't stay quiet.
"That… that's impossible," she finally said, her voice firm but touched by confusion. "Everything you just described… goes against what we know about magical development."
She straightened slightly—not aggressively, but with the posture of someone used to structure. To rules.
"There are only two recognized paths to expanding an individual's magical core," she continued. "Ascension as an alicorn, through a spiritual and harmonious connection with the world… or the use of dark magic. Stealing power. Feeding off the essence of others."
Her eyes were locked onto mine.
"What you did… is neither. Creating a core in the heart, stabilizing it, making it constant…" her tone lowered. "There is no record of such a thing. Not in any grimoire, not in Canterlot, not in the lunar archives."
The illusion on the table remained steady, showing the ring slowly orbiting the projected heart.
Luna blinked. "You said it was your first ring…"
Celestia smiled faintly, as if she'd been expecting that reaction all along.
"First… ring?" Luna repeated slowly, as if chewing on the word.
Her confusion turned into disbelief… and then a mix of fascination and alarm.
"You mean there's another one?"
I nodded once, calmly.
"Yes. I formed it recently. After the incident with Comet. When I absorbed part of the Elements' energy… and the void that creature left behind."
Luna stared at me like she was seeing something that shouldn't exist.
"Two magical cores… orbiting inside you. Two active rings…" she whispered.
Then she turned to Celestia.
"This isn't a technique. This is an anomaly."
Celestia didn't respond immediately. She simply took another sip of tea, unbothered.
"Or maybe," she said at last, "it's a new way of practicing magic."
Celestia nodded slowly, setting her cup aside.
"A very dangerous one," she added, her voice serene but serious. "According to the data that's been replicated and simulated by our top arcanists… the mortality rate when attempting something similar is extremely high."
Luna turned to her sister, visibly uneasy.
"You've already researched it?"
Celestia nodded again, her expression solemn.
"From the moment we reviewed his memory, several teams have tried to recreate the process… again and again. Magical simulations show failures in nearly every attempt: core overload, collapse of the vital channel, fragmentation of the internal flow. In the best-case scenario, the individual loses access to magic temporarily—if treated in time. In the worst…"
"They explode," I finished in a low voice.
Luna frowned, folding her wings with restrained tension.
"And you… not only did it once. You did it twice," she said, looking at me as if trying to see inside me.
"It wasn't from following some structured process," I admitted. "It was out of necessity. Desperation… and maybe something else I still don't fully understand."
Celestia looked at me with a blend of pride and caution.
"Whatever allowed it… it can't be easily taught. But it can be studied. Guided. If you choose to share it…" she paused, "you could help open an entirely new door for magic in Equestria."
Luna lowered her gaze, more composed now, but still wary.
"Or you might open one that should've never been touched."
"Let's set aside the fact that my magical path is fatal for others," I said, raising a brow with mild resignation and motioning with my hooves as if brushing the topic aside. "I don't think it's worth the risk. Not right now."
The princesses didn't argue, but they both nodded with quiet respect.
"What I can explain," I continued, "is how the technique to absorb ambient magic works. That's something others might be able to replicate… or even improve."
Both leaned in with interest.
"It works like this," I said, projecting a basic magical diagram above the table with a faint pulse from my horn. "You need to channel all your magic into your core. All of it. Like you're trying to mimic the behavior of my magic ring."
A glowing circuit began to rotate slowly above the illusionary scroll, simulating the energy flow.
"You need to find the best magical pathways inside your body. Or better yet, develop new ones to move the magic faster. The faster it flows, the better."
Luna watched the diagram with the intensity of someone rediscovering a forgotten part of herself.
"Once all the magic reaches the core, you push it outward again, then restart the cycle," I continued. "Create an internal vortex. A continuous flow, in and out."
"Doesn't that waste energy?" Luna asked with keen interest.
"No," I said calmly. "You're not spending it. You're only moving it. But by detecting the momentary void in the core… the body reacts. It triggers an automatic response—something like thirst. A need for more magic. And that's when the organism begins to naturally absorb energy from the environment."
I paused, glancing at both of them.
"That's the moment when you must try to feel. Perceive the magical particles in the air."
Luna suddenly perked up in her seat, her voice bursting with genuine excitement:
"Those are the same ones we saw in your memories!! Magic particles, right?!"
I smiled a little at her reaction. It wasn't often you saw her this excited… let alone interrupting so eagerly.
"Yes," I replied gently. "They're real. They're always there, even if most ponies can't see them at first glance. But once your body enters that flow… they become as obvious as air."
Then I added:
"If you give me another memory-catcher, I could transmit a more specific memory. Not one of battle, but of connection. Of what it's like to feel the magical particles. What it's like to breathe magic."
The words lingered in the air for a moment.
There was no drama in my voice. Just a simple truth—something I had experienced so many times it had become part of me.
But for them, it felt like a revelation.
Celestia and Luna exchanged a brief glance. No words were spoken, but the gesture was clear.
Celestia gave a soft nod.
Luna, meanwhile, was still watching me with a bright glint in her eyes, as if she were seeing more than just a unicorn in that moment.
"You little monster…" she murmured with a crooked smile. "Now we're jealous, sister. You've got yourself a fine apprentice. We are pleased. You've satisfied our curiosity."
She nodded with genuine satisfaction, like someone who'd just finished a book they didn't know they needed.
Celestia, meanwhile, received a letter that appeared with a gentle puff of green fire, floating briefly before materializing in front of her.
She read it silently while Luna was still processing everything we had discussed.
"Well then…" Celestia said at last, folding the letter with magic. "On a different note… I see you gave away the tickets I handed you."
I turned to her, raising an eyebrow.
"You already know?"
She smiled—calm, composed, amused.
"Trusted dragon courier," she replied, waving the scroll lightly between her hooves. "Twilight wrote to me. Rather relieved, I must say."
Her horn lit up with a soft golden glow, and without warning, she flicked a pair of tickets at me. They landed gently on top of my head. At the same time, her magic was already scribbling a new letter, to which she attached more tickets—obviously for Twilight.
"I'll see you at the Grand Galloping Gala, Wizbell," she said with a smile that mixed elegance and mischief. "I do hope you won't break that promise you made to Twilight… And as for you, Stella."
I blinked and turned toward her.
"Stella?"
In that very instant, from a nearby shadow, my companion's voice emerged with her usual teasing tone:
"I'm just saying… when nobles and nerds start fighting over you, the drama is delicious."
Celestia's gaze shifted briefly toward Stella, and the two shared a knowing smile.
"By the way," Celestia added, still addressing Stella, "I expect to receive those memories. That drama's worth more than the tickets. You know it."
What drama?
Stella purred softly.
"They're already packaged. Just make sure you send me that castle cake you promised. And not the creamless version," she added with a smug grin, pushing a small pouch that jingled as it moved. One of the items rolled out, and I recognized it instantly: a memory-catcher.
She also handed me another one—empty this time.
"What are you waiting for? Fill it with what you said," Stella urged, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
I obeyed, still a bit confused.
Once I finished, Celestia took it gently from my hoof, inspecting it with a brief spark of golden magic.
"Well then… our transaction and curiosity are both settled," she said, satisfied.
Both sisters rose. Luna gave me a slight bow, filled with sincere respect, while Celestia winked at me, her voice still playfully amused:
"You'll get your payment, Wizbell. In gold… or in embarrassment."
With a soft magical flash, they both vanished from the house.
And I stood there… still a little baffled by everything that had just happened.
The tickets still resting on my head.
Stella licking a paw like nothing happened.
And only one question drifting through my mind:
Since when do they make backroom deals behind my back for royal cake?