The Conjuration Wizard

The cold air of the dungeon nipped at my skin, the faint scent of damp stone and remnants of arcane magic lingering in the air. The faint echoes of shuffling hooves and murmured conversations bounced off the walls as I stood before the Platform of Disenchantment. A single petrified changeling rested at its center, its expression frozen in a desperate snarl borne from its last moments before the gorgon’s breath froze the thing solid in stone.

Luna stood to my left, her presence a steadying force, though the tension in her jaw betrayed her own unease. Noctra flanked her, her amber eyes sharp and ever watchful, while two Lunar Guards lingered near the exit, their stances stiff with barely concealed distaste.

Thorax stood at my right, his nervous energy apparent in the way he shifted his weight from hoof to hoof. Behind him, a small group of recently freed changelings watched the scene with wary eyes, their thin, membranous wings twitching occasionally.

This was it — the last one.

“Ready?” I asked, glancing at Thorax.

He nodded, his voice quiet but resolute. “Ready.”

I stepped forward, placing my left hand on the cool stone of the platform. My aura flared to life, a hazel glow that illuminated the room in a soft, pulsating light. The familiar burn ignited in my left eye, a searing ache that sent a wave of raw, electric energy coursing through my veins.

The runes carved into the platform responded immediately, their lines glowing with an otherworldly green hue as they drew from my magic. The air around us grew heavy, humming with the power being channeled.

As the spell took hold, the changeling statue began to crack. Thin lines spider-webbed across its surface, the brittle sound sharp against the muffled silence of the dungeon. Dust and fragments of stone flaked away, revealing glimpses of glossy black chitin beneath.

The cracks deepened, spreading like wildfire until the statue seemed on the verge of collapse. I gritted my teeth, the surge of power roaring in my ears as I guided the spell to completion. The runes on the platform pulsed once, twice, then dimmed.

The stone encasing the changeling exploded outward in a flurry of dust and rubble, the pieces clattering against the platform before scattering to the floor.

The freed changeling staggered, its limbs trembling as it took in its surroundings. Its compound eyes darted wildly, its breathing shallow and ragged. Confusion and fear radiated from it in waves, and it recoiled as if expecting an attack.

Before the tension could spiral into something worse, Thorax stepped forward. His movements were slow and deliberate, his voice calm and steady. “It’s okay,” he said softly, his tone laced with reassurance. “You’re safe now.”

The newly freed changeling froze, its gaze locking onto Thorax. He took another step closer, his posture open and unthreatening. Thorax’s presence seemed to sooth the new changeling.

Thorax once again, at least the hundredth time, proved himself invaluable in this endeavor.

The glow of the platform faded, leaving behind only the faint glimmer of enchanted torches lining the walls. The last freed changeling — still trembling slightly — stood motionless, its wary gaze shifting from Thorax to Luna and then to me. I folded my arm across my chest, allowing Thorax to work his peculiar talent for calming members of his kind.

"You're with us," Thorax said softly, his tone carrying a quiet conviction. He moved closer to the changeling, his wings twitching faintly but never lifting in alarm. "The battle is over now. No more danger. Just… us."

The changeling blinked as recognition crossed its sharp features. Thorax tilted his head, offering a small smile. For a moment, I almost envied how easily he could disarm his kind, how his presence alone could bridge the gaps of fear and confusion.

Luna shifted beside me, her regalia catching the faint light. I could feel the intensity of her attention as she studied the scene. Noctra and the two Lunar Guards stood by the doorway, their bat-like wings draped loosely over their backs, sharp eyes watching for any sudden movements.

Thorax gently touched the newly freed changeling's shoulder, murmuring something I couldn’t hear. The changeling hesitated, then slowly nodded. He had done it again.

Noctra cleared her throat, her amber eyes glinting as she stepped forward. "The recently freed ones will need to be escorted to the entrance," she said, her tone formal but not unkind. "The Queen's agents are waiting to take them."

Thorax turned, giving her a quick nod before addressing the small group of changelings. "Go with her," he urged, his voice kind but firm. "She'll guide you safely. I'll join you soon."

The changelings exchanged glances before shuffling toward Noctra and her guards. Noctra gave me a small nod, a silent acknowledgement of her task, before leading them out of the dungeon. The sound of their hoofsteps echoed and faded, leaving only Thorax, Luna, and me in the dimly lit, and now vacant dungeon.

The silence stretched unbroken. Thorax hesitated, his wings rustling slightly before he finally spoke.

"So… what happens to me now?" His voice was quiet, almost too soft for the room.

I turned to look at him, his wide, uncertain eyes meeting mine. He stood there, looking unsure in such a way that I never saw in any of his kind. Only ever in him.

I exhaled slowly, the cold air of the dungeon biting against my skin as I turned my full attention to Thorax. His wings twitched nervously, their thin membranes catching faint flickers of torchlight. His gaze wavered between me and Luna, and there was something in his expression — a mix of resignation and dread — that twisted in my chest.

"You return to your Queen," I said, keeping my voice even. It wasn’t a choice, not really, but I let the words hang as though they might be. "It is for the best. Your place is with your Queen."

Thorax's ears drooped, and he dipped his head, nodding slowly. "I figured as much," he murmured, his voice carrying a strange intonation to it, as though he wished to stay. He paused, glancing up at me with wide, uncertain eyes. "I just… I wanted to say thank you. For letting me help. For trusting me." His voice cracked, and he flinched as though ashamed of the emotion that slipped through.

Trust.

The word struck me like a blow, leaving a bitter taste in my mouth that refused to leave. I didn't trust him. I couldn't. He was a changeling, a creature whose very nature made trust feel like a dangerous gamble. Misplaced trust is what cost me half my vision. Trust was what led to my best-buddy dying. Trust had gotten me killed.

And yet, over the past days, he'd proven himself over and over again — calming the freed changelings, guiding them, standing between them and annihilation. Thorax never once showed even the slightest hint of betrayal or subterfuge, every moment of his time in Canterlot was watched closely by a combination of Lunar Guard, Luna, and myself.

Still, the image of that false Luna lingered in my mind, unbidden and cruel. It felt impossible to decouple that mangled corpse, and every bit of emotion that came with it, from Thorax, or any other changeling.

"Thorax..." I started, my words faltering as guilt welled up. My hate felt unbearable in that moment, especially when I looked at him, so painfully earnest and out of place among his own kind. "I—" The words caught in my throat.

"I'm sorry," he said suddenly, cutting me off. His voice was small, and he stepped back as though expecting a blow in return for his apology. "For… for being what I am. For what we did. For what I did." He lowered his head, his wings drooping. "If I could change it — change myself — I would."

The words hit harder than I expected. My hand closed into a fist at my side, and I turned my head slightly, catching a glimpse of Luna. Her icy gaze softened as she glanced between us, her silence urging me forward.

"You don't have to apologize," I said, the words heavy with effort. "Not for existing. Not for what is beyond your control." My voice grew quieter. "I should be the one apologizing. For… hating you. For hating what you are."

Thorax blinked, his eyes wide with confusion and disbelief. "Why? After everything my kind has done to you?"

"Because you did not do it," I replied firmly, though my voice cracked slightly. "Thorax, you are not those changelings from the alley, or Chrysalis. I know that. But knowing it doesn’t make it easy to let go of the hate. That is not your fault. It is mine."

His gaze lingered on me, searching for something. Understanding, maybe. Forgiveness, though I couldn’t imagine why he’d seek it from me. Finally, he nodded, his expression unreadable.

"I'll try to do better," he said quietly.

"You already are," Luna interjected, her tone calm but resolute. She stepped forward, her silver-clad hooves echoing against the stone. "And you have my thanks for that. You are the first of your kind, that I have seen, to have shown the strength of character you possess."

Thorax's ears flicked, and his wings fluttered in what almost looked like embarrassment. He muttered something too quiet to hear. If our time together was any indication, then it was most likely something about humbling himself.

"Come," Luna said, gesturing toward the exit. "The hour grows late, and the others will need your guidance once more as you all return to your Queen."

Thorax nodded again, following as Luna began walking toward the staircase leading up. I fell into step beside him, the flickering torches casting our shadows against the walls.

I kept my gaze forward, focusing on the corridors of the dungeon, and the stairs that would lead to the greater portions of the castle. The weight of what I’d said — and what I hadn’t — settled heavily on my chest. But for now, I pushed it aside. There would be time to untangle it later.

For now, I walked with Luna and Thorax through the castle’s cold halls, the winter night pressing in from beyond the stone. The crisp night air greeted us as we emerged into the open corridors leading to the castle entrance. The stars overhead were faint against the city’s glow, but I easily traced the familiar constellations in my mind — a habit I’d picked up from Luna.

Together, we guided Thorax toward the exit, where the rest of his kind awaited.

The stars hung high above the castle, their faint light spilling across the wide stone steps leading to the grand entrance. The constellations Luna had taught me whispered of comfort and certainty, but tonight they offered little solace. Their cold radiance seemed to match the air between us.

Thorax walked beside me, his movements stiff and uncertain. Luna flanked my other side, her presence a steadying anchor despite the quiet disdain that mirrored my own feelings. The corridor stretched ahead, the light of enchanted sconces dancing on stone walls and the nearly imperceivable clinking of armored hooves echoing behind us — our unseen shadows of the Lunar Guard, only noticed by my ears due to my foreknowledge of their existence.

I slowed my pace.

Thorax, seemingly lost in his thoughts, took a few steps before noticing. His wings twitched nervously as he turned to face me, amber eyes wide with an unreadable mix of curiosity and apprehension. Luna stopped a step ahead, glancing back at me, her expression impassive yet watchful.

"Thorax," I began, my voice steady but carrying the weight of my words. "Before you go… there's something I need to say."

His ears perked, his posture shrinking slightly as though bracing for another blow, verbal or otherwise. "Y-yes?"

I drew a breath, my hand brushing the hilt of Promise, not out of aggression but for the grounding comfort it offered. "I’ve hated your kind for what they’ve done. For what Chrysalis has done. I won’t pretend that’s changed. Not entirely."

Thorax's wings buzzed faintly, a nervous reflex that quieted as he forced himself to stillness.

"But you," I continued, "you’ve shown me something different. Through all of this — helping your swarm, keeping the peace, even standing here now — you’ve proven that you're not what I thought all changelings to be. You’ve given me hope that a peaceful path is possible. And for that, I…" My words caught briefly, the admission weighing heavier than I expected. "I want to believe in you. Maybe even call you a friend, if you'd allow it."

The silence that followed was deafening. Thorax blinked at me, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, his mouth opened in a hesitant, uncertain smile. "You… you mean that?" His voice cracked, and for a moment, the nervous changeling I had come to tolerate — and perhaps even admire — shone through.

I nodded, my single eye meeting his. "I do. It won’t be easy for me. For either of us. But I think it’s worth trying."

His wings buzzed again, this time with what I could only describe as hope. "I… I’d like that," he said, his voice trembling with a sincerity that cut through my lingering guilt. "More than anything, I’d like that."

Luna stepped closer, her presence solid beside me. She didn't speak but offered a faint nod to Thorax. It was as close to an endorsement as any changeling could hope for from her. He practically beamed at that little nod.

With that, we continued down the corridor, the heavy castle doors growing larger as we approached. The chill of the winter night pressed in, crisp and biting, as we stepped outside. The group of changelings stood waiting near the edge of the steps, their glowing eyes shifting nervously. The guards stationed openly behind them watched with silent vigilance, their armor gleaming in the torchlight.

Thorax turned to face us one last time. "Thank you," he said, his voice quiet but filled with emotion. His gaze lingered on me before darting to Luna. "For everything. Even if it was… complicated."

"Go," I said, my tone soft but firm. "Your Queen’s waiting. And Thorax…" I hesitated, then added, "Good luck."

He nodded, then turned to rejoin his swarm. As they moved as one down the grand steps, Noctra and her unit of stealthier Lunar Guards melted into the shadows, their silent departure a stark contrast to the visible escort trailing behind the changelings.

Luna and I remained at the top of the steps, watching until the group disappeared into the winter night. The glow of Canterlot’s lights seemed to fade with them, leaving only the cold stars and the faint whisper of the wind.

"It’s done," I said, more to myself than to Luna.

“It is,” Luna replied softly, her voice carrying the strength of finality. She moved closer, her shoulder brushing against mine as we stood at the top of the castle steps. The cold wind played with her mane, the ethereal strands flowing like a river of starlight.

The weight of the past weeks bore down on me. The dungeon, the frozen expressions of the petrified changelings, the tension that accompanied each release — it was all over. I should have felt relief, but guilt gnawed at me instead. Not for what I had done, but for the feelings I couldn’t seem to shake. Thorax’s hopeful expression as he left lingered in my mind, a profane testament of the hatred I had aimed at him, and all of his kind for the crime of simple existence.

“Sebastian,” Luna said gently, drawing my attention. Her eyes searched mine, her gaze steady and calm. “You’ve done more than what was required. You gave them a chance.”

“Because I had to,” I muttered, turning my gaze back to the horizon. The stars blurred for a moment, and I blinked the sensation away. “I didn’t do it for them. I did it because I needed Chrysalis bound. That’s all.”

She knew that was a lie. I had already told her that my offer of friendship was of my own desires, but instead of pressing me on it, she pressed her wing lightly across my back in a show of quiet reassurance. “Even so, you acted with reason and compassion when many others would not. That, too, speaks of your strength.”

Strength. What a hollow word. Once, I had hungered to be strong. A fool who believed that strength would somehow shield my loved ones from the dangers of the world. Where was my strength during the invasion? Where was my strength when Aldin needed me most? So grand was my strength, that I could only die when it came down to it. I wanted to snap at her, and deny any semblance of that ‘strength’ she sees in me, but that wouldn’t do anything for anyone. It would only serve to hurt, and I couldn’t bring myself to even humor the notion.

Instead, I let her words settle over me like a blanket against the chill. “Maybe.”

We stood in silence for a moment longer, the faint hum of the city below blending with the winter wind. My thoughts churned, but Luna’s presence kept me from sinking into those darker depths of thought.

Finally, she shifted, her wing curling slightly to nudge me toward our spire. “Come. The night still holds surprises for you.”

I arched a brow, glancing at her. “Surprises?”

A playful smile touched her lips. “You will see.”

Intrigued despite myself, I followed her through the castle halls. The corridors were quieter now, the usual hum of activity reduced to a faint murmur as the castle settled into its nocturnal rhythm. The faint glow of torches flickered against the stone walls, casting long shadows that danced with each step we took.

As we ascended the spiral staircase leading to our chambers, the tension I’d carried began to ease. This place had become familiar since I agreed to moving in. It had become home — an almost isolated sanctuary where the outside world felt distant, where it was just Luna and me.

When we reached the top, she opened the door with a soft glow of her magic. The chamber’s initial cold was swiftly banished by a spark of Luna’s magic that set the logs of the fireplace alight. Our room was filled with the comforting sound of crackling wood. The rich scent of aged wood filled the air, mingling with the lingering, crisp hint of the winter night that still clung to us.

Luna stepped inside, and I followed, letting the door silently close behind me. The firelight danced over the canopy bed, the shimmer of the curtains catching my eye as they moved faintly in the draft.

“What’s the surprise?” I asked, my curiosity piquing.

She turned to face me, her smile deepening. “Patience, my moonlight. All will be revealed.”

Moonlight.

The nickname made my chest tighten in a way I wasn’t entirely prepared for. She had recently begun using it, but each time, it warmed my heart and soul.

She moved toward the open space near the fireplace, her magic coming to life and drawing a phonograph from its resting place in the corner. Smoothly, she set the needle on a record, and the soft, melodic strains of a waltz began to fill the room.

I froze. "Luna," I began, already suspecting where this was going. "You can’t be serious."

Her eyes sparkled with amusement. "Quite serious. Dancing is an essential skill for one who walks among nobles and courts. Recent events have stolen the time necessary for this lesson, but that is no longer the case. As my consort, it is time you learned to dance."

“Why do you assume I don’t know how to dance?” I asked with mock offence.

Her silent stare and knowing smirk was more than enough of an answer. A different approach then?

"I have one arm," I weakly pointed out, half-hoping she’d reconsider.

"And you have one princess willing to teach you," she countered smoothly. She stepped closer, her magic guiding my hand to her shoulder. Her own hoof rested lightly at my waist. "Let us begin."

I sighed, defeated but not entirely displeased. "Fine. But if I step on your hooves, you’ve only yourself to blame."

Her laughter echoed softly in the chamber, warm and unrestrained. "I shall take that risk gladly, Sebastian."

Luna’s laughter faded into a soft hum as the music swelled, filling the room with its lilting rhythm. Her touch was feather-light but firm, her presence embracing me in a way that made me feel both unprepared and utterly captivated. She looked up at me, her mane shimmering like the night sky, the faintest glimmer of stars dancing in her hair.

"Relax," she said softly, her voice a gentle melody of its own. "The first step is to let the music guide you. Feel it."

I focused on the waltz, the steady cadence of its three-beat rhythm. Luna’s gaze remained steady, patient, waiting for me to follow her lead.

My first attempt was, to put it generously, awkward. I stumbled slightly, my single hand too stiff as it rested on her shoulder. My feet moved out of sync with the music, and I barely avoided stepping on her hoof.

She chuckled, the sound devoid of mockery, and adjusted her position with the ease of a seasoned dancer. "You are overthinking, my moonlight. Trust yourself — and trust me."

Her words were straightforward, yet were imbued with a genuineness that was impossible for me to ignore. With a deep breath, I exhaled the tension that had crept back into my shoulders unnoticed. She led me once more, her movements fluid and confident, her hoof never straying from my waist to coax me to match her rhythm.

This time, I managed a passable imitation of the steps she demonstrated. The warmth of her magic subtly adjusted my footing, and her presence filled the gaps left by my inexperience. The firelight painted her in shades of gold and deep blue, and for a moment I forgot my doubts.

"Better," she murmured, her voice as soft as the music that surrounded us. "See? You are not hopeless after all."

"I’m sure you’re thinking otherwise," I said, trying to mask my grin with a mock glare.

Her sly smile betrayed her. "I may have had my doubts."

The next few minutes were a slow dance of trial and error. I faltered more than once, earning the occasional teasing quip from Luna, but her patience never waned. Her laughter was infectious, and I found myself smiling despite my missteps.

By the time I managed a full turn without tripping over my own feet, she nodded approvingly. "You learn quickly," she said. "Perhaps I shall not have to fear my consort embarrassing me at the wedding after all."

"High praise," I said, unable to resist the chance to tease back. "And here I thought I was doomed to be the court’s jester."

"Hardly," she said, her tone softening. "You shall be the court’s envy."

Her words held an unexpected gravity, and for a heartbeat, I faltered — not in the steps of the dance, but in grasping the weight of what this moment signified. The gentle pressure of her hoof at my waist, the way her gaze softened each time it found mine, the music enveloping the room and threading us into its harmony — it all spoke of a shared life taking shape.

The hatred, the scars, the memories — they lingered at the edge of my thoughts like distant echoes but no longer dictated the rhythm of my heart. The firelight danced across the room, but it was Luna’s quiet assurance that illuminated everything. Her presence, her guidance through my clumsy steps, shrank those shadows until they were mere specks in the distance.

I gave a slight, instinctive squeeze of her shoulder, a quiet offering of gratitude and understanding. Her smile deepened, as though she had heard the unspoken, and she led me into another graceful turn.

As the music shifted into a slower, more intimate melody, she leaned in, her cheek brushing against mine. "You are doing well," she whispered, her voice low and warm.

"What can I say? I have a good teacher."

We swayed together, the dance now less about precision and more about connection. The world outside the room seemed to fade, leaving only the two of us and the music that bound us.

Her mane tickled my cheek, and I closed my eye, letting myself be carried by the rhythm and the presence of the mare in my arms. The future, the past, the weight of all we had endured — they felt distant now, eclipsed by the quiet joy of this moment.

And as we continued to dance, I realized I wasn’t just learning to dance.

I was learning to live again.

And so, we danced.