The Conjuration Wizard

The first sensation pulling me from sleep was the warmth of Luna beside me, a steady presence that softened the edges of waking. My arm rested over her, her head nestled against my chest, her mane a cascade of midnight blue spreading across the sheets. Each quiet breath she took sent a tickle along my skin, a gentle reminder that this moment, fragile and fleeting, was real.

The room was cloaked in shadows. The light filtering through heavy curtains was dim at best. Outside the sun lingered just below the horizon, making it the hour before sunset — a time of transition between day and night. It was a cherished time for us, an unspoken pause before duty called us to rise.

I hesitated, reluctant to disturb the peace of her presence. The world beyond this room could wait, I reasoned, but only for so long. My fingers brushed against her mane, the silky strands slipping between them like water. “Luna,” I murmured, my voice quiet yet insistent. “It’s time to wake.”

She stirred faintly, a sleepy murmur escaping her lips as her hold on me tightened. Amusement curled through me as I watched her resist the inevitable, clinging to the comfort of sleep. In moments like these, she wasn’t the Princess of the Night, the commanding figure who carried the weight of Equestria’s darkness. She was simply Luna — my Luna.

A part of me wanted to let her sleep, to keep her here in this fleeting sanctuary. But the moon would not rise on its own, and I knew her sense of duty rivaled my own. Leaning down, I pressed a kiss to her forehead, my lips brushing against the cool silk of her coat. “Come on, Luna,” I coaxed gently, my tone laced with affection. “The night awaits.”

Her eyes fluttered open, and her cyan irises caught the faint light like twin jewels. She watched me for a moment. Her expression was softened by the haze of sleep, and before long a slow, sleepy smile curved her lips. “Must we rise so soon, my dear apprentice?” she asked, her voice teasing and her words edged with the remnants of her dreams.

I chuckled softly while my hand rested on the small of her back. “You wouldn’t want to miss your moonrise,” I replied.

Her sigh was a quiet thing, reluctant but resigned. “You are right, as always,” she said, though her words carried no real sting. Her gaze lingered on me for a moment longer before she began to move, her movements deliberate as if savoring every second before she left the sanctuary of our bed.

As she shifted, I sat up, the cool air of the room biting against my skin and stealing the warmth she’d left behind. I stretched cautiously, the ache in my shoulder flaring briefly as the stitches pulled against tender skin. It was a dull pain, one I’d grown accustomed to since the injury, but it served as a constant reminder of why Luna worried over me the way she did.

I crossed the room to the balcony, the door responding to my touch as I released the Arcane Lock. The evening air greeted me. The air was cool and invigorating, and carried with it the scent of earth and twilight. The horizon burned with the last lights of day. The sky was transforming into a canvas of oranges and purples blending seamlessly into to paint the encroaching night.

I glanced back, catching Luna’s gaze as she sat up in bed. Her eyes followed me, their intensity an unspoken weight that sent a shiver racing down my spine. There was something different in her expression, a depth of emotion that words would never fully capture. Her gaze traced over me—my scars, my arms, the wound at my shoulder—as though committing every detail to memory.

“Are you coming?” I asked, my voice cutting through the quiet.

Luna blinked, her focus sharpening as a faint blush dusted her cheeks. With a graceful movement, she slid from the bed, the sheets pooling around her hooves as she stood. She joined me without a word, her presence steady and grounding as she stepped onto the balcony.

The night began its slow unfurling around us, stars winking into existence against the deepening sky. Her mane shimmered in the twilight, catching the faint light like liquid starlight. She stood close, her presence an unspoken promise that filled the silence between us.

“I’ll never tire of this view,” I said quietly, though my eyes were fixed on her rather than the sky.

Luna’s smile deepened as her gaze returned to the horizon, a contemplative light in her eyes. “Nor shall I,” she murmured again, her voice carrying a gentle weight. Yet, I knew the truth — we both cherished a view that was not just of the moon or stars.

With an elegant motion, she unfurled her wings, the moonlight catching the silken sheen of each feather. The gesture was graceful, almost instinctual, as though she might lift off into the sky at any moment. Yet she remained grounded, wings outstretched toward the heavens, her presence radiating an effortless majesty.

“Would you care to join me for the moonrise, my dear apprentice?” she asked, her tone playful but tinged with sincerity.

I stepped closer until we stood side by side, our sides nearly touching. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

A faint smile touched her lips before she closed her eyes, drawing in a steady breath. I felt it immediately — the subtle shift in the atmosphere as her magic stirred. It was ancient, primal, and beautiful, a deep well of power that resonated with the celestial dance she commanded. The sky obeyed her will, surrendering the last golden hues of sunset to the indigo embrace of night.

Silently, I watched as the moon ascended, slow and deliberate, until its radiant silver light bathed the world. It felt sacred, watching her guide the celestial body with such intimacy, as though the moon itself were a trusted companion she had known through centuries of solitude and sorrow.

When the moon reached its zenith, Luna opened her eyes. Her serene expression was illuminated by the moonlight. There was a quiet satisfaction in her gaze, a sense of fulfillment that I cherished to see. The sight filled me with an overwhelming sense of love for her, for everything she was and everything she had endured.

“Beautiful,” I whispered. Not just about the moonrise, but about her, about the moment we were sharing.

Her smile softened, as though she understood. “It is,” she replied, her eyes lingering on mine, their warmth stealing my breath.

The last traces of sunlight faded, leaving us bathed in the moon’s cool light. The night was ours again, as it always had been, but the intimacy of this moment made it feel infinitely more meaningful. Memories of the previous night — our confessions, our shared vulnerabilities — lingered like an unspoken promise.

Drawn by an irresistible urge, I reached out. My hand came to rest over her chest, just above her heart, where the faint line of an old scar lay hidden beneath her fur. My fingers traced its length gently, reverently, as though to honor the pain it symbolized.

Her gaze held mine, its intensity making my heart pound. I felt the steady beat beneath my palm, the strength and fragility of life intertwined. In her eyes, I saw a depth of trust that humbled me, a love that left me speechless. She leaned into my touch, the smallest of gestures that spoke volumes.

“Sebastian,” she said softly, her voice steady but filled with care. “I expect you to take it easy for the next few days. Your shoulder needs time to heal, and I would have you at your best for the Gala.”

The Gala. A glittering spectacle meant to celebrate Canterlot’s foundation, filled with nobles, dignitaries, and social pretense. Hardly my ideal event. Yet if Luna wished me to attend, I’d endure it without complaint.

“I promise,” I replied with a small smile, my thumb brushing over her scar. “No reckless heroics until I’m good as new.”

She nodded, a trace of tension leaving her shoulders. “Good. I wouldn’t want you to miss it, even if…” Her lips quirked in a wry smile. “The Gala itself isn’t exactly my favorite occasion.”

I raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Not a fan of grand festivities?”

Her laughter, light and melodic, filled the night air. “A thousand years ago, they were insufferably dull and bore a far less glamorous name. Even now, Celestia insists on my attendance, promising that each year will be… more engaging.” She rolled her eyes, but there was undeniable affection in her voice when she spoke of her sister.

She spoke of Celestia with such fondness that it confused me. How could she forgive her after all this? If I were in her position could I do the same? Forgive, and love so easily, the one who has hurt me so?

I do not know. I do not wish to know.

I shook off the thought, unwilling to let it cloud this precious moment. Instead, I focused on the mare before me — her strength, her grace, her unyielding heart. She was here, now, and that was all that mattered.

“I’ll need a suit for the occasion,” I mused, already mentally noting the preparations I’d need to make. “And maybe a haircut. I have been away long enough that I’m starting to look like I live in the wilds.”

Luna’s eyes roamed over me. Her gaze lingered on my hair, the slight scruff on my jaw, and then down the length of my body which was still bare from the waist up. There was a brief instance of something in her eyes — appreciation, perhaps. But Luna quickly schooled her expression into something more stoic. That stoic mask did nothing to hide the faint hint of color that graced her cheeks.

“I think you’ll look quite handsome,” she teased. “Though I must admit, I rather like the way you look right now.”

I grinned at her, my hand slipping from her chest to take one of her hooves in mine. “I’ll make sure to clean up nicely, just for you.”

Her eyes softened and for a moment she looked as if she might say something more. Words that tugged at the edges of her heart. Instead she squeezed my hand gently with her hoof.

“Come,” she said, glancing back toward the open balcony doors. “We should head inside. Wouldn’t want you to catch a cold.”

We stepped back into the cozy familiarity of my room, the gentle warmth inside a comforting contrast to the crisp night air. Moonlight streamed in through the balcony doors, casting a soft glow across the space, shadows pooling like ink in the corners. The quiet sounds of the night filtered in, but my attention was fixed solely on the alicorn by my side.

Luna’s eyes briefly fell on Aldin, nestled snugly in his perch, before returning to me. Her lips curved into a subtle and mischievous smile. “I have royal duties to attend to,” she said reluctantly. “But I trust you’ll find ways to occupy yourself?”

I nodded, gesturing toward the spellbook on the desk near my bed. “Plenty of studying to do. I’ll be ready for your return.”

Her smile deepened, the playfulness fading into something tender. She stepped closer, the soft shimmer of her mane cascading like liquid starlight around her. Her voice lowered, intimate and knowing. “You realize, don’t you, that I always feel your gaze upon me?”

Her words caught me off guard, and warmth surged to my cheeks. Before I could offer a reply, she leaned in, her lips capturing mine in a kiss that stole the breath from my lungs. It wasn’t gentle or reserved but deep and consuming, a collision of need and affection. Her tongue grazed mine, her presence overwhelming in the best way possible.

I responded instinctively, my good hand sliding to the back of her neck, fingers tangling in her ethereal mane as I pulled her closer. Her body pressed against mine, soft and warm, and every rational thought evaporated under the weight of her kiss. The taste of her, the faint scent of moonlit air and something uniquely Luna, flooded my senses, leaving me utterly spellbound.

When she finally broke the kiss, I was left breathless. Luna had left my heart pounding so fiercely that I thought it might leap from my chest and begone. Her lips were parted, her breaths coming shallow, and her eyes, half-lidded, sparkled with a smug satisfaction that sent another rush of heat through me. She was enjoying this far too much. Not that I would ever complain. Please continue.

“I like it when you watch me,” she murmured, her voice a sultry purr that made my knees weak. “And once your shoulder is healed… I’ll make sure you have more to admire.”

The promise laced in her tone was enough to send my thoughts spiraling, but just as I opened my mouth to reply, she stepped back, her absence as palpable as her touch had been. The sudden distance was almost unbearable, leaving me yearning for more.

I cleared my throat, struggling to regain my composure. “I’ll hold you to that,” I managed, my voice rough with lingering desire.

Luna turned toward the door, the Arcane Lock yielding to her as I stepped aside to let her pass. She paused just outside, casting a glance over her shoulder. Her smile was both playful and knowing, her tail flicking once, deliberately. The motion drew my gaze, the sway of her hips mesmerizing as she walked down the corridor, her departure a graceful performance she knew I wouldn’t look away from.

“Don’t stay up too late,” she called over her shoulder, her tone carrying a gentle tease.

“I’ll try,” I replied, though my voice was quieter, tinged with a longing I couldn’t hide.

The echo of her hoofsteps faded into the stillness. I lingered by the door, and basked in the remnants of energy that her presence left behind. Shutting the door with a click, I leaned against it. I exhaled a breath I had not realized I had been holding. The room, though unchanged, felt far emptier now. With her absence Luna took with her some vital part of it.

I returned to the desk where my spellbook waited, its pages filled with mysteries I had intended to unravel tonight. But no matter how much I tried to focus, my thoughts kept drifting to her—the feel of her lips on mine, the way her gaze had pierced through me, the promise she had left lingering in the air. The quiet hum of her magic and the warmth of her touch were still imprinted on me, as vivid as the night sky.

As I sat down, opening the book, I knew I wouldn’t get far. Not tonight. Her absence weighed heavily on me, her presence etched into every corner of my mind. The room felt too quiet, too still, and though I tried to push the longing aside, it clung to me like a shadow.

The hours stretched ahead, but the thought of her, of what awaited us, would remain with me, the night our shared canvas, painted with promises yet to be fulfilled.

I shook my head, trying to push those thoughts aside for now. My work required me to focus. But as I turned back toward my desk, I caught sight of a pair of bright, amber eyes watching me from across the room.

Aldin.

His feathers fluffed up as if he had just woke from sleep himself. He shot me a look that was quickly becoming all too familiar. I could practically feel the amusement radiating through our empathic link.

“You were watching the whole time, weren’t you, best-buddy?” I asked, unable to keep the fondness out of my voice as I approached him.

Aldin let out a soft hoot that, to anyone else, would have sounded like a simple owl call. But I knew better. “Of course I was. Couldn’t miss a moment like that, now could I?” He was filled with the kind of smug satisfaction only he could pull off.

I narrowed my eyes at him playfully. “You seem awfully pleased with yourself.”

He fluffed his feathers even more, practically preening under my gaze. “Why wouldn’t I be? I knew it was only a matter of time before you two admitted what everyone with functioning eyes could see.”

I let out a soft chuckle, reaching up to scratch the top of his head lightly. “So, you’re saying you planned all this?”

“More, or less,”Aldin puffed up proudly, his chest feathers rising as he gave an exaggerated nod. “Guided her right to your door, I did. You should be thanking me.”

I paused, raising an eyebrow at him. “So, it was you who led her here yesterday?”

His eyes twinkled with mischief, and he let out a satisfied hoot. “Who else? I saw the state you were in and figured you could use the help. Not to mention, it was the perfect opportunity to push things along.”

I shook my head in disbelief, a smile tugging at my lips. “You little matchmaker.”

“Someone had to do it,” Aldin replied, his tone filled with playful smugness. “You’ve been pining after her for ages, and I couldn’t just sit back and watch you stitch yourself up like that. Besides, it worked, didn’t it?”

I sighed, though the affection I felt for him was evident in my voice, and I’m certain he could feel it through our link. “Yeah, it did. But you could’ve warned me, you know.”

“And spoil the surprise?” he said with a wink in his tone. “Where’s the fun in that?”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

Aldin gave a little shrug, his wings fluttering lightly. “That’s why you keep me around, Seb. Someone’s got to look out for you, and let’s face it, I’m the best at it.”

I couldn’t argue with that. Aldin had been by my side from the start, always knowing just when to step in — even if his methods were unconventional. “I suppose I owe you one, then,” I said, giving him another gentle scratch.

He leaned into the touch, closing his eyes briefly before opening them again to fix me with a serious stare. “Just make sure you don’t screw this up, okay? She’s special.”

My heart softened at his words. “I know, Aldin. I know.”

For a moment, the room was filled with a comfortable silence. Aldin watched me with those keen eyes of his, as if he could see right through me — which, honestly, he probably could. I gave him a reassuring smile, one that he returned with a satisfied nod before settling back into his nest.

With one last glance at him, I turned back to my spellbook, though I knew my focus would be scattered tonight. The warmth of Luna’s kiss still lingered on my lips, and the knowledge that Aldin had been the one to bring us together filled me with a sense of gratitude.

He really is the best damn familiar a guy could ask for.

I settled into the chair at my desk, my spellbook lying open before me, the pages filled with meticulously inscribed runes and arcane symbols. My left shoulder ached with a dull throb, a constant reminder of the wound I had sustained. Luna’s careful stitching had done the job, but the pain lingered, a steady background noise that I did my best to ignore.

I focused on the task at hand. There were two new spells I needed to recreate — Dimension Door and Summon Monster IV. Each spell required absolute concentration, precision in the lines and curves of the runes, and an understanding of the magical theory that underpinned them. I felt inspiration begin to flow through me as I began to work.

I started with Dimension Door. The spell offered tremendous utility, an invaluable tool for situations where a repositioning is necessary. My hand moved steadily as I inscribed the symbols, my mind visualizing the various scenarios in which this spell could come into play.

Next was Summon Monster IV, a spell that allowed me to call forth more powerful creatures from other planes to aid me in battle. Each tier of Summon Monster grants ever more useful summons, it is a shame that the healing summons only start appearing at fifth-level and above.

The hours passed as I worked, the room filled with the quiet scratching of my quill against parchment. Despite my best efforts to minimize movement of my left shoulder, the pain occasionally made itself known. However, in spite of the pain, I felt a sense of satisfaction as I completed the final inscriptions. These spells would serve me well in the future, and I knew they were essential additions to my growing arsenal of magic.

Checking the location of the moon, I was surprised to see how little time had passed. Dimension Door and Summon Monster IV were successfully inscribed into my spellbook, and with so much time left in the night I decided to move on to the next project — the creation of nonlethal metamagic.

Luna had always been a force in battle, pushing me to my limits in our training sessions. And while I admired her strength and resilience, the idea of inflicting true harm on her unsettled me. I needed a way to control my magic, to turn lethal force into something less final without diminishing its effectiveness. Developing the nonlethal metamagic allows me to finish fights, without the threat of death or maiming hanging over each cast spell.

As I considered the metamagic further, I ran through the potential applications in my mind. Spells such as Fireball and Lightning could be used to incapacitate large numbers of targets from a distance.

The potential was there, and sparring with Luna would be the perfect testing ground. I knew she would appreciate the practical value in being able to take enemies alive, and the lack of charred flesh is a nice bonus too.

The quill moved over the page, sketching out the formula for layering nonlethal metamagic over my spells. It was delicate work, adjusting the structure of the magic just enough to change the damage output without losing the essence of the spell. I leaned forward, my hand steady as I drew the final line on the page, feeling the satisfaction that came with progress.

Once the inscriptions were completed and the satisfaction of finishing washed over me, I let out a deep breath. The pain in my shoulder had ebbed into a dull throb, manageable, but always there as a reminder of my injury. I flexed my left arm carefully, feeling the pull of the stitches Luna had placed with such care the night before.

It was healing, but I knew I needed to take it easy for the next few days.

Pushing back from my desk, I scanned the nearby bookshelf, looking for something to occupy the rest of my night. My fingers brushed over various tomes and scrolls, but one book caught my eye: Basic Magic for Unicorn Foals. A small, slim volume, its spine worn from years of use, the simple blue cover unassuming. I pulled it free from the shelf and sat down with it, feeling a strange curiosity rising within me.

This was a book designed for young unicorns — children learning their first spells, cutting their teeth on telekinesis before moving on to something more complex. I had always relied on my arcane methods of casting, manipulating magic through sheer force of will and intricate study. But unicorn magic was fundamentally different, tied to an innate connection between the world around them, and their horns. I would be substituting a horn with my hands.

I thumbed through the pages until I reached the first lesson: telekinesis. It seemed so simple in theory. Unicorn foals used this spell to lift and move objects before they even understood the broader complexities of magic. For them, it was second nature.

I smiled to myself. It couldn’t hurt to try, right?

The instructions were straightforward: focus on an object, visualize it moving, and let your magic flow through the world around you to manipulate it. I selected a small quill from my desk as the target, narrowing my gaze on it. Slowly, I extended my right hand, mimicking the gestures described in the book, willing the magic to form.

For a moment, nothing happened. I frowned, trying again, concentrating harder this time. After a few minutes, a faint shimmer danced around the quill, but it remained stubbornly in place. I could feel the magic, raw and restless, but shaping it into the force needed to lift the quill felt elusive, like trying to grab mist with my hands.

I let out a low sigh, shifting my position and lightly rubbing my sore shoulder. This should have been simple, an easy task even for a novice. A novice, I am not, and yet here I am, struggling with something that unicorn children learned almost instinctively.

It was humbling, in a way.

I spent the next hour repeating the process, trying to channel the spell. Every once in a while, the quill would mockingly wobble slightly, but it never fully lifted. Frustration began to creep in, but I reminded myself that this was unfamiliar territory. Unicorn magic wasn’t the same as the arcane magic I had been trained in, and expecting immediate success was a mistake.

Still, the constant failure gnawed at me. I wasn't used to struggling with something so basic. It was... embarrassing. But there was something oddly fascinating about it too, this different kind of magic. It was less rigid, more intuitive, something that flowed naturally rather than being forced. I just hadn’t figured out how to tap into that flow yet. More practice and testing would be needed.

The quiet of my room was interrupted only by the occasional barely audible rustling of the quill as it twitched under my influence. Aldin, still perched in his nest, would occasionally let out a sleepy hoot, as if amused by my efforts.

“Best-buddy,” I muttered under my breath, “even you could probably lift this thing by now.”

But no matter how much I tried, success remained out of reach. The quill lay on the desk, mocking me with its stillness. My shoulder throbbed with each movement, my concentration waning as the ache worsened. Fatigue set in, a heavy weight that pulled at my limbs, and I realized that I would likely push myself too far if I continued.

Rubbing at my eyes, I decided to call it here and head to bed. I placed my hand over my spellbook, preparing to cast Secluded Grimoire. The spell was one of my favorites, a simple way to keep my spellbook safe from prying eyes or potential theft. With a few whispered words and a focused thought, the spellbook began to glow faintly, the pages turning on their own as the runes and symbols shimmered with ethereal light.

Slowly, the book dissolved into lines of energy, the spells within it reflected in the fading light as it vanished from sight. I could feel its presence on the Ethereal Plane, safely tucked away until I needed it again. The spell was complete, and the room seemed quieter, emptier without the book's physical presence.

As I leaned back in my chair, a wave of fatigue washed over me, catching me off guard. My left shoulder ached more intensely now, the strain of the night’s efforts taking its toll. I hadn’t expected to feel this tired so early into the night, but the pain and the concentration required for all the spellwork had drained me more than I realized.

Deciding it was best not to push myself any further, I stood up, careful to avoid any sudden movements that might aggravate my shoulder. I made my way to my bed, the lure of sleep growing stronger with each step. As I lay down, the softness of the bed welcomed me, and I allowed myself to sink into it, the exhaustion settling over me like a heavy blanket.

As I sank into the bed, the softness enveloped me, a stark contrast to the hard, unforgiving surfaces I had grown accustomed to during the past month. The weariness from my recent exertions, both magical and emotional, pressed down on me, urging my body to surrender to sleep. But as I lay there, something felt off.

Last night, Luna had been beside me, her presence a comforting balm that soothed the ache of solitude I hadn’t even realized had settled into my bones during my time away. With her warmth against me, it had been easy to drift off into the most peaceful sleep I’d had in weeks. But now, with the bed empty, the absence of her closeness was a stark, unsettling contrast.

I shifted slightly, careful not to aggravate the stitches in my left shoulder. The wound throbbed dully, a reminder of the battle that had nearly taken more from me than just blood. The room was quiet, save for the occasional soft rustling from Aldin. It was still the middle of the night, and Luna was undoubtedly busy with her duties. There was no chance she’d be able to return to me anytime soon.

The emptiness beside me was unsettling. It wasn’t just the absence of Luna that troubled me; it was the lack of the familiar weight of Promise, my sword, by my side. I had slept with it at my side for so long during my missions that its presence had become a sort of anchor, something that grounded me in the reality of each day’s struggles. Last night, with Luna in my arms, I had no need for it. But now, without her, the bed felt too empty, too vulnerable.

I hesitated for a moment, then made a decision. Reaching out, I grasped the hilt of Promise, which was leaning against the bedside table. The familiar, cool touch of the metal sent a wave of reassurance through me. Gently, I laid the sword beside me on the bed, its weight against the mattress a comforting presence, almost like a silent sentinel.

With Promise by my side, I felt a little more at ease. The sword had been a constant companion, a reminder of my connection to Luna and the duty I had sworn to uphold. Even though I knew she was out there, busy with her royal responsibilities, having Promise with me felt like a piece of her was still here, watching over me in her own way.

I settled back into the pillows, closing my eyes as I tried to let the tension drain from my body. The ache in my shoulder was persistent but manageable. What weighed more heavily on my mind was the strange mix of emotions I felt — a longing for Luna’s presence, a sense of security with Promise beside me, and an odd discomfort in the solitude of the night.

Sleep came slowly, inching closer with each breath, but not as easily as I had hoped. My mind wandered, replaying the events of the past day, the moments of vulnerability shared with Luna, the tender confessions of love, and the warmth of her kiss. It felt wrong to sleep without her now, as if a vital part of me was missing.

But as the minutes ticked by, the exhaustion I had been fighting against finally began to win. I tightened my grip on the hilt of Promise, drawing comfort from its presence. In the quiet of the night, with only the soft rustle of Aldin’s sleep and the distant sounds of Canterlot outside, I finally began to drift off.

The last thought that flitted through my mind was a simple one — a wish for Luna to return soon, so that the emptiness beside me could be filled once more.