The Conjuration Wizard

Mira was improving faster than I anticipated, though her impatience was beginning to show.

We were seated in the castle library, surrounded by a sea of books and scrolls stacked into precarious towers of knowledge. Tonight’s lesson focused on the continuation of reading magic — a discipline I considered the cornerstone of any spellcaster’s growth.

Mira, however, was less convinced.

She never outright complained; Noctra had instilled far too much discipline into her for that. Instead, her frustration crept in through subtler means: the way she slouched slightly in her chair as her teashades slid further down the bridge of her nose or the faint dip in enthusiasm as she repeated the same incantation from the Prestidigitation scroll. Her tone had lost its spark, each word sounding more like obligation than curiosity.

I glanced at the towering stacks of books and scrolls that surrounded us, the vast collection of knowledge loomed like silent sentinels over her small frame. Her persistence was admirable, but it was clear she craved more. Maybe it was time to let her do more than just read about magic. I would hate to drown her passion for the arcane with minutiae.

“Perhaps,” I murmured, setting my quill down, “it’s time to shift gears.”

Mira perked up, her eyes peeking over the violet lenses with a mixture of hope and curiosity. A change of pace might be exactly what she needed.

Fortunately, Mira by this point has the incantations down for Prestidigitation. We just had to work out the somatic aspects.

I leaned back in my chair, the wood creaking softly under the motion, and gave Mira a small smile. "You've got the words memorized. Now it's time for the fun part: making it happen."

Mira blinked, pushing her teashades back up her snout with a hoof. Her ears swiveled forward, and the faint glimmer of hope in her expression grew brighter. "You mean... actually casting it?"

"Exactly," I said. I reached out, picking up the scroll she’d been studying and setting it aside. "We’ll work on the motions together. It might take a while, but trust me, it's worth it."

Her grin returned, eager and full of life. She scrambled to sit up straighter, her posture snapping from bored slouch to focused student. I felt a pang of pride at her determined eagerness — not unlike how I imagined a parent might feel watching their child take their first steps. The thought lingered before I pushed it aside.

"Let’s start with the basics," I said while raising my left hand. "The somatic components for Prestidigitation are simple in theory but tricky in execution. It’s all about intent. execution, and practice. Follow my movements carefully, and we’ll see what feels natural to you."

I began to slowly demonstrate the gestures, my fingers gliding through the air in fluid arcs. Mira leaned in close, her amber eyes locked on my hand as if committing every twitch of my fingers to memory. Her small hooves rose hesitantly as she attempted mimicking my motions with surprising precision. The first attempt was stiff and filled with doubt, her movements lacked the fluidity needed to cast magic effectively, but it was a solid start.

"Not bad," I encouraged. "But you’re overthinking it. Arcane magic isn’t just about execution and knowledge — it’s about confidence. Relax, Mira. Let your magic flow with your movements."

She nodded, her tongue poking out slightly as she concentrated harder. I couldn’t help but chuckle softly at the sight.

For the next several minutes, we worked together, adjusting the angles of her hooves and refining the rhythm of her gestures. Occasionally, I’d reach out to guide her, my left hand over her hoof to demonstrate the proper form. She caught on quickly, though frustration flared when an attempt didn’t go as planned. Each time, I’d remind her that every wizard struggles — a truth I knew all too well.

"Think of it this way," I said, after her latest attempt faltered. "Magic is like art. If the incantation is the paint, then your gestures are the brush. Together, they create something beautiful. But forcing it will only muddy the picture."

Her expression softened at that, and she nodded again, more at ease now.

As the minutes ticked by, Mira’s movements grew smoother and more confident. The air in the library seemed to hum faintly, a subtle shift that signaled the first stirrings of magic taking shape. I felt the familiar tug of excitement — it was a similar feeling I’d experienced the very first time I managed to cast a spell.

All that time ago in the now dilapidated Castle of the Two Sisters.

Finally, after nearly an hour of practice, Mira’s hooves moved as she recited the incantation one last time. A spark of energy flickered at the tip of her hoof, and then—

A tiny, glowing wisp of light appeared. It flickered and hovered for a moment before stabilizing, throwing off a soft golden glow that illuminated Mira’s awestruck face.

Her jaw dropped while her wide amber eyes reflected the tiny wisp of light she’d just conjured. The little wisp was little more than a mote of light that threw off a fraction of the light a single candle could. But it was glorious nevertheless.

"I... I did it," she whispered, her voice trembling with wonder.

"You did," I said, my chest swelling with pride. "Congratulations, Mira. You just cast your first spell."

Mira stared at the tiny light, her awe giving way to unrestrained glee. She clapped her hooves together, her leathery wings fluttering so hard she nearly toppled out of her chair. The light wavered for a moment but steadied again, as if responding to her excitement.

"Look, look!" she squealed, holding her hoof toward the tiny light like it was the most precious treasure in the world. "It’s so shiny! I did magic! Real magic!"

“You did,” I repeated with a chuckle, leaning back and letting my smile grow as I watched her revel in her success. “And you did a good job at it too.”

Her grin turned mischievous, and she turned her attention back to the glowing wisp. "Can I do more? What else can I make?"

"Prestidigitation does have its limits," I said, though her enthusiasm made it hard to rein her in. "Start small. You can shape it a little, maybe try changing its color or making it move. The trick to most magic is to stay focused."

Mira nodded furiously and squinted at the light, her tongue sticking out in concentration. The golden hue began to shift, softening into a vibrant, shimmering blue. She let out a triumphant laugh as it changed again, cycling through colors like a kaleidoscope.

"Look, it’s a rainbow! I’m a rainbow-maker!"

Her joy was infectious, and I found myself laughing alongside her. The light bobbed and weaved under her direction, circling her head before zipping over to me and landing on the tip of my nose. Then, she turned it bright red. She giggled uncontrollably as I feigned surprise, crossing my eyes to stare at the glowing orb.

"Impressive," I said while giving the orb a mock squeeze and making a honking noise before it drifted back to her. "You’re a natural, Mira."

She puffed out her chest proudly, though her focus remained glued to her creation. It flickered once, and she frowned in frustration, scrunching her muzzle as she steadied it again.

“Don’t worry if it falters,” I reassured her. “Failure is an essential part of learning. Even experienced wizards sometimes have spells that go awry — especially in the heat of battle.”

"Like when you accidentally turned that book purple last week?" she quipped, her amber eyes glinting with playful teasing.

I raised an eyebrow at her. “I did that on purpose. To show you a little bit of what Prestidigitation could do.”

"Sure you did," she replied, giggling as the light finally winked out.

I tapped a finger on the table, the warmth of her joy settling deep in my chest. “Tell you what — how about we call it a night?”

Her ears flattened, and she gave me a wide-eyed pout that could have melted a heart of stone. “But I just started getting good!”

“I know,” I said, raising my hand to forestall any further protests. “Which is why I think we should celebrate your first spell.”

Her ears perked up instantly, the disappointment forgotten in an instant. “Celebrate? How?!”

I pretended to consider for a moment, tapping my chin. “What about a trip to Donut Joe’s? I hear his new partner’s taken over for the night shift, and they’ve got fresh donuts until sunrise.”

Mira’s wings flared out in excitement, and she practically bounced out of her chair. “Yes! Yes! Donuts! Can I get the chocolate one with the sprinkles? No, wait — the one with the jelly filling! Or maybe both?!”

I chuckled as I stood tall and dusted off my cloak. “We’ll see. Go grab your cloak, Mira. It’s a little chilly tonight.”

She was already halfway to the door, her little hooves clicking against the polished floor. “I’ll be right back!”

As Mira rushed off, I lingered by the table. My gaze drifted to the spot where her wisp of light had been. The warmth in my chest deepened into a quiet yearning that I couldn’t quite name. Mira’s boundless energy and joy whispered to me. Solidifying in my mind the idea of everything I’d never known I wanted.

Luna’s face flashed in my mind, her soft smile and the way her eyes lit up whenever she watched Mira play. I rubbed the back of my neck as I pushed the thought aside.

Mira burst back into the room, her oversized cloak trailing behind her like a miniature cape. “I’m ready! Let’s go!”

I grinned, reaching out with my left hand. “Hold on tight.”

She latched onto my hand, her wings fluttering with excitement. With a murmured incantation, I cast Teleport, and the comforting walls of the library were replaced by the chilly winds of the street outside of Donut Joe’s.

The golden glow of Donut Joe’s spilled out onto the cobblestone streets of Canterlot at night, carrying with it the tantalizing aroma of freshly baked donuts. As the cheerful ding of the bell announced our arrival, the soft hum of chatter wrapped around us like an old friend.

Mira inhaled deeply, her eyes widening in delight behind her violet shades. “It smells so good!” she declared, her wings fluttering with excitement.

“Then we’re in the right place,” I replied, guiding her toward the counter.

Behind the counter stood a thestral mare with a dusky coat and bright blue eyes. She smiled warmly as we approached. “Consort, Mira,” she greeted, her voice honeyed and welcoming. “Out for a treat tonight?”

Mira nodded so enthusiastically I was surprised her head didn’t fall off. “I cast my first spell! Sebastian said we’re celebrating.”

The mare’s grin widened. “Your first spell? That’s incredible, Mira. Congratulations! So, what’ll it be?”

Mira’s excitement spilled out in her rapid response. “The chocolate donut with sprinkles — and a jelly one too!”

I chuckled, unable to resist her enthusiasm. “Both it is. And two milkshakes. What flavor, Mira?”

“Mango!” she declared with absolute certainty.

“Mango it is,” I replied as I handed over the bits.

As the mare prepared our order, Mira hopped onto a stool at the counter, her legs dangling as she leaned forward. Her teashades slipped slightly, and she nudged them back into place with a quick push of her hoof, her expression so serious it was absolutely adorable.

“You’re picking up the basics of the arcane quickly, Mira,” I stated as I settled onto the stool beside her. “Soon the only barrier between you and the Lunar Guard will be age. Although I don’t think you ever needed magic to make it in the Guard.”

Her eyes lit up, and she leaned toward me, her excitement etched into every inch of her features. “Do you think so? Do you think I’ll be as good as Mom someday?”

I smiled, the image of Noctra’s stoic face briefly flashed in my mind. “I think you’ve got the same determination she does. And maybe a bit more flair.”

Mira giggled, swatting at my arm with her hoof. “Mom doesn’t need flair. She’s already super cool.”

“True,” I said, nodding solemnly. “But you’ve got something she doesn’t.”

She tilted her head, curious. “What?”

“Rainbow wisps,” I replied with a smirk. “And teashades.”

She burst into laughter, her wings flapping so hard that the stool wobbled beneath her. I reached out instinctively to steady her, earning a sheepish grin as she settled down.

The thestral mare returned, setting the tray in front of us. Two mango milkshakes with whipped cream and cherry toppers, a chocolate-sprinkled donut, and a jelly-filled one sat in perfect, sugary glory. Mira’s eyes sparkled like the stars outside, and she dove in with the kind of fervor only a child could muster. She started with the chocolate donut, making quick work of it, sprinkles scattering onto the counter.

I sipped at my milkshake, watching her with a faint smile. “Slow down, Mira. The donuts aren’t going anywhere.”

She swallowed and grinned at me, powdered sugar clinging to her muzzle. “I can’t help it. They’re so good!”

I grabbed a napkin and leaned over, dabbing at her face. “You’re wearing more of it than you’re eating.”

She giggled, pushing my hand away. “That’s how you know I’m enjoying it!”

As Mira reached for the jelly donut, I found myself imagining another little one. Perhaps with Luna’s dark coat and luminous cyan eyes, sitting beside her, laughing and sharing in moments just like this one. The thought hit me unexpectedly, and settled in my chest with a quiet ache I couldn’t fully comprehend.

Mira brought me out of the thought by showing me the donut when she found the first bite filled with jelly. “Look! It’s pink! I didn’t know it’d be pink!”

“Surprise jelly,” I said with mock seriousness. “Truly, a mystery for the ages.”

She giggled again, her joy infectious. “You’re funny, Sebastian.”

“Don’t let Luna hear you say that. She’ll never believe you.”

Mira tilted her head, her expression turning thoughtful as she sipped her milkshake. “Do you think I’ll ever be as strong as her? Or as smart as you?”

The question caught me off guard, but I managed a soft smile. “I think you’ll be exactly as strong and as smart as you’re meant to be. You’ve already got the heart for it, and that’s the most important thing.”

She beamed at me, her face sticky with jelly and sugar, and for a moment, I couldn’t look away. There was something so pure, so full of potential, in that gaze of hers.

As she returned to her donuts, my mind wandered. I thought of Luna again, of the way her laughter could fill even the quietest moments with life. Mira was so much like Noctra, so full of spirit and determination. I allowed myself to wonder — just for a moment — what it might be like to have a child of my own with Luna.

The thought lingered, warm and strange, but I pushed it aside as Mira nudged me with her hoof. “Hey, Sebastian?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re really good at celebrating,” she said, her eyes sparkling behind the lenses of her teashades. “We should do this more often.”

I laughed, ruffling her mane gently. “Deal. But next time, you’re paying.”

She gasped in mock horror, her wings flaring. “What?! But I’m just a filly!”

“Exactly,” I said, grinning. “Plenty of time to save up.”

Mira pouted, but the effect was ruined by the milkshake mustache she’d acquired. We finished our treats in companionable silence, the warmth of the shop wrapping around us like a soft blanket.

Tonight, at least, everything felt perfect.