The Conjuration Wizard

The atmosphere in the meeting hall felt weighted, a kind of tense silence thickening the air as we gathered around the long, polished table. The room, usually reserved for dignitaries and important diplomatic affairs, was elegantly subdued — tall arched windows ushered in the pale morning light that cast faint, stretching shadows across the hardwood floors. Yet, today, the room’s usual grandeur felt diminished under the shadow of the threat looming over us all.

At the head of the table sat Princess Celestia, her serene expression marred by a faint line of worry between her brows. Beside her, on her right, Luna sat with an intensity in her gaze, her eyes sharp as they scanned the room. I took my place next to Luna, feeling the weight of her presence and the calm vigilance she exuded. Across from us, Shining Armor and Cadance sat close together — Shining looking worn yet resolute, his polished armor doing little to mask the tension his posture threw off. Cadance clutched his hoof, her face reflecting a blend of worry and resolve as her gaze shifted between us all, lingering the longest on her groom.

Every so often, I noticed a flicker of something else in her eyes, a subtle unease that seemed out of place, perhaps stress was getting to her.

Standing between and behind Luna and I was Noctra, with her silent and watchful presence. Her amber eyes glowed faintly as they tracked each movement and expression in the room, unwavering in her vigilance. Aldin perched on my shoulder, unusually quiet, his gaze silently following each speaker intently. Through our bond, I could sense his alertness mirroring my own — a silent acknowledgment that this was no ordinary gathering, and that what lay ahead was uncharted and potentially dangerous territory.

Shining Armor cleared his throat, slicing through the dense silence. “We received the threat a few days ago. It’s vague, but the intent is clear. Whoever sent it means harm, specifically to Canterlot.” He paused, glancing at Cadance. “After careful consideration, we believe the best response is to erect a protective barrier around the city.”

Celestia inclined her head slightly, her voice calm yet probing. “A barrier? That would be… quite the undertaking.”

Shining nodded. “I know it’s not ideal, but Cadance suggested it, and we believe it’s the most effective way to protect everyone. The barrier will require focus, but it can shield Canterlot.”

Cadance looked at Celestia, her expression firm but with a glint of apprehension. “We can’t let this threat disrupt everything we’ve worked for,” her tone steadily urgent. “Shining is more than capable of maintaining the barrier. With it in place, we’ll be able to investigate this threat while keeping Canterlot safe, and the wedding can continue as planned.”

Celestia and Luna exchanged a look, one that reflected shared concern and caution. I felt Luna’s unease through the briefest tightening of her grip on my hand beneath the table. It was rare to see her this unsettled. I gave her hoof a reassuring squeeze, though I shared her doubts. Cadance’s insistence on pushing forward with the wedding despite this unspecified threat felt… strange. Forced, even. Although our encounters had been few in number, she always gave the impression of a mare who was kind and caring.

Today, she seemed unyielding, her gaze a touch too intense.

“Cadance,” I said carefully, “are you certain the wedding must go on? Perhaps it would be best to wait, at least until we have more information — hells, any information. Give me a few days and I’ll hunt down whatever this threat is myself.”

For a fraction of a second, her expression tightened before she forced a smile. “I understand your concern, Sebastian, but we’ve prepared for this wedding before you even arrived. Delaying it would be disappointing not only for us but for everypony in Canterlot.” Her smile held, but there was a faint strain to it. “Besides, Shining’s barrier is more than capable. It is his special talent, after all.”

Luna leaned forward, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Princess Cadance, we all desire for the wedding to proceed without incident, but not at the expense of safety. This threat remains an enigma — we know nothing of its origin or its true intent.”

Cadance held her gaze for a moment before looking down, her voice softening. “I know it seems risky,” she admitted, “but Shiny and I have prepared for this. I… I feel this is the right way to handle it.”

Shining gave her a reassuring look, tightening his grip on her hoof. “I trust Cadance’s instincts,” he said firmly. “I know this is unconventional, but I believe she’s right. I can take care of the barrier. It’ll take focus and constant attention, but I can do it.”

Noctra, who had remained quiet throughout, finally spoke. “The Lunar Guard is prepared to offer its full support. We’ll increase patrols and maintain a heightened presence around the city.”

Celestia nodded. “Thank you, Captain Noctra. We must remain vigilant. Shining, if you’re focused on the barrier, there’s a possibility other areas may be left vulnerable. We should prepare additional defensive measures within the city to ensure we maintain comprehensive measures against this threat.”

Shining nodded. “Agreed. We’ll increase the Solar Guard’s presence as well, just in case. But with the barrier in place, I’m confident we can keep any direct threat at bay.”

As the discussion unfolded, I noticed Cadance’s gaze drifting from Shining to the rest of us, her jaw set tightly. The stress of wedding preparations must be weighing on her mind, alongside this new unknown threat, but I couldn’t ignore the unsettling feeling that something else lingered beneath the surface.

Aldin shifted slightly on my shoulder, breaking his silence with a low, muttered comment in my ear. “Feels like we’re putting all our eggs in one big, pink shield basket, doesn’t it?”

I gave a subtle nod, hiding a smirk. “You’re not wrong,” I murmured back, though Shining’s resolve — and Cadance’s strange insistence — held me back from pressing them further on the issue. It was evident how much this all meant to them, even if a nagging feeling warned me that something was off.

Celestia’s voice cut through, calm but resolute. “Shining, Cadance, if this is the course you have chosen, we will stand by you.”

Shining’s shoulders relaxed a fraction as he nodded, visibly relieved. “Thank you, Princess Celestia.”

Luna’s gaze met mine, her concern mirroring my own. She gave my hand a gentle squeeze, and I knew we were both committed to keeping a close eye on things. We’d have to be vigilant, not just for the city, but for whatever strange undercurrents seemed to be in play.

As the meeting concluded, Cadance and Shining leaned into a quiet exchange, sharing soft words and looks of mutual understanding. Yet even in that moment of closeness, the nagging doubt in my mind refused to ease.

Luna leaned closer as we prepared to leave. “We will watch over them,” she whispered, her voice carrying gentle reassurance but a steely edge in her eyes. “Stay close, Sebastian.”

I nodded, letting her words settle over me, a comfort amid the mounting uncertainties. As the others filed out of the hall, she gave me a subtle look, nodding toward a quieter corridor that led deeper into the castle.

I understood immediately — she wanted to speak in private.

We moved silently through the winding corridors, Luna’s hooves making no sound against the stone floors. The silence stretched between us, dense yet not uncomfortable. I watched her as we walked, noting the thoughtful crease between her brows, the way her gaze stayed fixed forward, somehow both intense and unfocused at once.

Shining Armor’s recent behavior echoed in my mind, a gradual shift I couldn’t ignore. Days before, he’d become oddly withdrawn, almost distant, even declining my suggestion of a bachelor party. Normally, Shining’s focus and dedication were what defined him as a leader, but this… felt different, like his attention was locked onto something more important. And Cadance — her insistence on pressing forward with the wedding, her tense expressions — it all felt like pieces of a puzzle that didn’t quite fit together.

I just couldn’t quite see the bigger picture.

Luna’s voice pulled me from my thoughts. “You feel it too, don’t you?” she murmured, glancing back as we rounded a corner.

I nodded, keeping my voice low. “Something’s wrong. Shining’s… I don’t know, he’s distant in a way I’ve never seen before. And Cadance… It can’t just be stress. I’ve never seen her act even remotely like this.”

Luna’s gaze darkened, her expression clouded with doubt. I recognized that look well by now — one she wore whenever shadows of her own past surfaced. “Celestia trusts Cadance,” she said slowly, “but I can’t shake this feeling. Something about her today is unsettling.”

We reached the library, and Luna pushed open the heavy oak door, leading me into the cozy, familiar space. Sunlight filtered through a high window, casting a warm glow across shelves stacked with ancient tomes. Luna’s horn ignited as she cast a series of wards around the room, the air filling with a subtle hum of magical energy. I recognized the wards as those meant to prevent spying, both magical and mundane. When she finished, she turned to face me, her expression solemn.

“Cadance’s behavior is… troubling,” Luna said, voice filled with wariness. “I may not know her as well as my sister, but I’ve always seen her as empathetic, compassionate. Today, she seemed different — her focus narrow, as if she saw nothing but her own goals.”

I met her gaze, our shared unease solidifying in the quiet of the library. “And Shining’s obsession with the barrier,” I added. “I get that it’s crucial for protecting Canterlot, but he’s so focused on it, he’s blocking out everything else.”

Luna’s brow furrowed in thought. “Could they be under some kind of influence?”

“It’s possible,” I said, the uncertainty settling uneasily in my chest. “I’d like to believe they aren't. But if they are… then the threat may be much closer than any of us realize.”

She nodded, though a flicker of doubt lingered in her gaze. I recognized that look — the weight of her own judgment bearing down on her, shadows of her past casting an unfortunately familiar veil over her confidence. She’d confided in me more than once about those lingering shadows, how the memory of her time as Nightmare Moon sometimes clouded her trust in herself. Gently, I reached out, placing a steadying hand on her shoulder.

“Luna,” I said softly, drawing her gaze back to me, “you’ve earned the right to trust your instincts. If something feels wrong, it’s worth listening to. Your judgment is sound.”

A faint, bittersweet smile crossed her lips, though the doubt in her eyes still remained. “I worry that my past taints my perception,” she murmured. “There was a time when I allowed envy to warp my view. I fear… it has left marks on more than just my heart.”

I shifted closer, my hand moving to the spot just above her heart where her deepest scar lay just beneath her fur, a hidden testament to her darkest days. I could feel the faint roughness beneath my fingers as she tensed, then slowly relaxed, a soft breath escaping her as she held my gaze. I’d touched this scar many times before, and I knew it meant the world to her that I wasn’t repelled by it, or by any part of herself or her past.

“You’re not that mare anymore,” I reminded her quietly, my voice steady. “And I trust you. If something feels off, then I believe you.”

She searched my face, seeking any hint of doubt. When she found none, her eyes softened, gratitude and love pooling in them. A tension seemed to lift from her shoulders, and she released a shaky breath, as if letting go of a burden that had clung to her.

“We will remain vigilant,” she said, her voice steady with confidence. “And… I will trust my sister’s wisdom regarding Cadance and Shining Armor. She’s guided them for years, and her wisdom has always exceeded mine.”

I offered her reassurance with a small smile. “And I’ll trust yours, Luna. Whatever we’re facing, we’ll figure it out.”

Her smile deepened, a quiet warmth settling between us that needed no words. Here, in the library’s quiet, with only the faint hum of her wards around us, the weight of all that uncertainty felt a little lighter.

_~_~_~_~_~_~_

Daily now, since the meeting, Aldin took to the skies. Each day and night he would tirelessly patrol the city and its numerous regions. He would skim the rooftops, the alleys, and the many concealed corners of Canterlot, his sharp eyes combing for anything even slightly out of place. And each time he returned empty-taloned, a flicker of frustration sparking through our link — a spark that mirrored my own discontent.

The only foreign presence in Canterlot seemed to be my own.

“Another empty search,” Aldin muttered one evening, landing on the arm of my chair in my room. His feathers were ruffled from the day’s effort, and he gave his wings a quick shake before setting about his preening. Despite his nonchalance, I felt the undercurrent of his irritation. A feeling I have grown far too accustomed to these past few days.

I sighed, rubbing my temples. “Same here. It feels like I’ve scoured every corner of the city, questioned and I’ve looked into anything even remotely out of the ordinary.” Leaning back, I stared up at the ceiling, as if the answer might be hiding in the stonework above. “Nothing. It’s like this threat doesn’t even exist.”

Aldin clicked his beak thoughtfully. “Or maybe it’s playing the long game. Maybe it knows we’re looking, so it’s just… waiting. Waiting for us to let our guard down. Waiting for us to tire and slip up.”

The thought settled uncomfortably, leaving a bitter taste in my mouth. Shining had all but ordered me to focus on this hunt, going so far to insist I abandon my best stallion duties to further focus on this wild chase. He’d been so insistent, so eager for me to step back, that it bordered on pushing me away. I’d chalked it up to his dedication, his need to protect Canterlot — and by extension Cadance — at any cost, but the more I considered it, the more the pieces felt… wrong.

And then there were those fleeting moments when I’d catch a strange gleam in Shining’s eyes — a flash of… something that vanished the instant I looked too closely. I’d dismissed it as a side effect from maintaining the barrier, a spell that required immense concentration. But still, something didn’t sit right.

“Tomorrow, I’ll check the perimeter again,” I murmured, half to myself. “Maybe we missed something outside the barrier’s edge.”

“Good idea,” Aldin responded as he stopped his preening, fixing me with a sharp gaze. “But we both know this whole thing’s starting to smell rotten, Seb. Shining has made it clear that he wants you focused on this search — and only this search. Almost like he doesn’t want you anywhere near the wedding rehearsals or the castle.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You think it’s intentional?”

Aldin let out a low hoot, shifting his weight as he huffed. “Look, I know you and Shining have known each other since we arrived on Equis. But this obsession with keeping you chasing shadows through the city while he handles everything else? It reeks of manipulation. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he’s keeping you distracted on purpose.”

I mulled over Aldin's words, an uncomfortable knot of paranoia starting to tighten in my gut. Shining had never been one for subtlety or deception, but lately, he’d been almost… evasive. Insisting that I focus on this elusive threat, maintaining the barrier with a rigid intensity, and letting Cadance handle the wedding preparations alone. It was unlike him to keep me at arm’s length, especially at a moment like this.

I turned my attention towards my room’s balcony, taking in the faint purple hue cast by the barrier over Canterlot. It created a strange, quiet isolation, as though the city had been sealed off from the world. The shield itself began to feel wrong — not just in its presence but in the unnatural separation it cast, turning Canterlot into an island of sorts.

“I can’t shake the feeling that something is happening right under our noses,” I muttered, running a hand over my face. “If there is a threat, then it must be hiding in plain sight, somewhere we’re not thinking to look.”

Aldin gave a thoughtful hoot. “Or somewhere we’re being told not to look.”

The thought hit me, sharp as a dagger. Shining’s insistence that I remain vigilant on this search had kept me away from the wedding entirely. I hadn’t seen much of Cadance, or even spent time with Shining himself. And the last time I saw Cadance… she had brushed off my concerns, her normally warm and welcoming demeanor feeling strangely distant and cold.

“We’ve been focused on what’s outside the barrier,” I murmured, my skin prickling with unease. “But what if the threat is already here, within the barrier?”

Aldin nodded, his sharp eyes glinting. “Finally catching on, are we?”

My mind raced as everything started to fall into place, each subtle detail twisting into something far more sinister. Shining’s behavior, Cadance’s sudden shift in behavior — it all felt too deliberate. Like they were pieces of a puzzle I’d been looking at from the wrong angle.

But if the threat was inside, then what — or who — was the real danger?

Aldin shifted, his feathers puffed up against the tense silence. “So, what’s the plan?”

I exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of my neck. “We update Luna. Then we search the castle, talk to the guards, and see what we can find out — quietly. I don’t want to jump to conclusions about this, not without something solid to back it up. Shining is still my friend, and whatever is happening, it’s affecting him.”

Aldin gave a sharp nod, then with a quick flap of his wings, he landed on the bookshelf to watch over the city below. “I’ll keep my eyes peeled. If anything so much as twitches out of line, you’ll be the first to know.”

“Thanks, best-buddy.” I cast a glance out at the sprawling cityscape, bathed in the ominous glow of the barrier. “I have a feeling things are going to get worse before they get better.”

But even with Aldin’s reassurances, the tension in my shoulders didn’t ease. He perched silently on the shelf, his sharp eyes scanning the city, while I sank into a chair, the weight of everything pressing down on me. I couldn't ignore the creeping sense of dread winding its way through my thoughts.

I rubbed my temples, remembering those early days in Canterlot. I’d been a complete stranger here, navigating an unfamiliar world with faces and customs I barely understood. Hells, it still feels like I'm barely beginning to scratch the surface of this world’s customs.

Back then, paranoia had been my constant companion. Every interaction with Celestia had felt like a potential trap, every smile possibly hiding a darker intention, and every kind gesture a calculated move. I had never been able to shake the feeling of being a pawn, pulled into a cosmic scheme beyond my understanding.

Aldin cocked his head at me, a spark of concern and curiosity winding through our link. His gaze softened slightly, his sarcastic edge tempered by a rare glimpse of empathy. He knew better than anyone how those memories weighed on me, and he could sense that they were clawing their way back to the surface now, bringing a wave of doubt I thought I’d long buried.

“It’s like a circle,” I murmured, half to myself and half to him. “Back to the start. Just when I thought I’d left all that… that doubt behind.”

Aldin clicked his beak thoughtfully, his amber eyes watching me with that infuriatingly patient stare that could burn through the strongest defenses. “You humans,” he said, his voice carrying the dry, biting tone that was becoming his trademark. “You all think fear is something you can ‘overcome.’ As if a predator doesn’t still feel hunger even when it’s well-fed.”

A faint smile touched my face. Leave it to Aldin to transform an existential struggle into something resembling a backhanded insult. “You know,” I said, leaning against the workstation’s edge, “when we first arrived here, back when I couldn’t even understand you. I still knew — somehow — that you understood me. Even then, you felt what I was feeling, what I was afraid of. I trusted you before I trusted anyone else.” A slow, wistful laugh escaped before I could contain it. “I was so caught up with watching my back. And every single day, I thought about how easy it would be for Celestia to manipulate me, to make me into another pawn to be used and discarded in her grand game. Sometimes I thought Luna might even have been part of that.”

Aldin gave a sharp hoot, his gaze hardening as he peered over the city outside the balcony. “And now? What do you think now?”

“Now?” I glanced out towards the shimmering shield surrounding the city. The words that came next felt foreign but somehow right. “Now… they’re my family. Luna, Celestia, Shining, Cadance, even Noctra and Mira. And you, of course.” I gave him a sidelong glance.

Aldin huffed, fluffing his feathers briefly, though the spark of humor in his gaze didn’t go unnoticed. “Oh, am I finally getting proper credit?”

“Don’t get used to it, best-buddy,” I said with a chuckle, though my thoughts drifted back to those early days of uncertainty. “Back then, all I could think about was the nightmares of that damn vrock demon, and of turning into Meridin — of somehow becoming like that prick.” The memory stirred something raw, a faint tremor in my voice. “It took Luna hammering it into my head to see that my path is my own; that I’m not here to play a role Celestia or anyone else crafted for me.”

Aldin’s eyes softened, though his tone remained blunt. “And yet, even now, you’re still afraid of falling into someone else’s game.” He tilted his head, his gaze uncomfortably perceptive. “But tell me, Seb — do you really think you’re the same person who walked into Canterlot all those months ago?”

I paused, his question lingering in the air.

“No,” I admitted, the realization sinking in. “Not even close.” And yet, despite that, the familiar tension coiled in my gut. “But that’s exactly what makes this worse. I hate this feeling of looking over my shoulder, of doubting those I care about.” I clenched my fists. “I don’t want to live like that again.”

“And yet, here you are, doing just that,” Aldin said, his tone infuriatingly smug. His eyes glittered, daring me to refute him.

I let out a dry laugh. “Point taken. But if I’m going to be suspicious, it’ll be to protect them. I can’t let whatever this threat is get close enough to hurt anyone.”

Aldin’s low, approving hoot echoed through the room. “Then stop obsessing over what you hate and fear, and focus on what you’ll do about it. Because if you’re not careful, this paranoia of yours will keep you from seeing what really matters.”

I turned my gaze back out to the city, taking in the shield’s faint glow as it cast shadows across the rooftops. The twilight outside felt thick and unnatural, like the calm before a storm. Yet, for the first time in days, I felt the faintest spark of clarity in Aldin’s words, like a candle in the dark.

“Thanks, best-buddy,” I said quietly. “I needed to hear that. No more looking over my shoulder. Just forward.”

Aldin gave a satisfied hoot, and I felt his encouragement, his fierce loyalty, intertwining with my resolve.

The fear hadn’t left; the tension still coiled deep within me, but with my best-buddy at my side, I knew it wouldn’t control me.