The Conjuration Wizard

The castle was abuzz with energy.

A sort of nervous undercurrent had taken to crackling beneath the surface of its polished grandeur. Banners from every nation that would be represented at the summit hung along the castle’s marble walls. The banners' vibrant colors hung starkly in contrast to the muted tension that seemed to cling to everyone. Or, perhaps it was just I who held such tensions.

Perhaps I was simply projecting my worries onto others… I wish Aldin were here. He would know exactly what to say to me. He would know exactly what I needed to hear to get my head on straight.

He wasn’t here, but I am. I’m here wandering these halls with no particular destination in mind, convincing myself I was just keeping an eye out for anything — or anyone — that might need my help.

My Wizard’s Arm clicked softly as I flexed its fingers to tap against its silver palm, the faint hum of the magic-infused prosthetic served as a subtle companion to my thoughts. I passed a group of staff rushing to arrange a long banquet table, their chatter hushed and urgent. A moment later, two castle architects debated whether a particular sconce was too bright and might offend the yaks of Yakyakistan, who apparently preferred softer lighting.

I lingered in the shadows of an archway, observing without interfering. It wasn’t my business, I told myself. Besides, they seemed to have it under control.

Still, I didn’t move on.

Instead, my mind circled back to the unspoken reason I was pacing these halls like some caged animal. Chrysalis.

Her name alone made my stomach churn. The memory of her mocking laughter, the glint of malice in her eyes as she drained my love and then drove Promise through my heart — it was seared into me like a brand. But I wasn’t scared of her. Of course not.

I shook my head sharply and moved on. I allowed my feet to take me wherever they wanted.

The Grand Foyer was an explosion of activity. Rows of Lunar and Solar Guards stood at attention, their armor gleaming in the early daylight. Foreign dignitaries’ names were being cross-checked against endless lists, and various staff fluttered about as they prepared for the inevitable chaos that came with housing the wide range of persons who would be accompanying their heads of state. The Crystal Empire’s envoys were supposed to arrive first. Cadance was eager to represent her crystal ponies on the global stage. It would be the Crystal Empire, and Cadance’s, first international event.

I paused near the towering stained-glass windows, each panel capturing some triumphant moment from Equestria’s long history. My eye landed on the one depicting the defeat of the changelings during their invasion of Canterlot. My stomach tightened as I stared at the colorful rendition of Chrysalis kneeling before me while her petrified swarm circled us.

The window focused on victory — the triumph through strife, the power to stop an entire army, the queen brought low and forced to kneel. It showed those who viewed it that Equestria was strong, even without the Elements of Harmony. It showed the world that we had other ways to defend ourselves.

The window didn’t show the aftermath — the chaos, the losses, the bodies. It didn’t show Aldin. It didn’t show what didn’t make it through that day, or that parts of me remained dead.

I turned away, clenching my fists tightly enough that my silversheen arm whined in protest as the metallic fingers dug into itself.

A passing Lunar Guard acknowledged me with a brisk salute. I nodded back, my expression carefully neutral. Could they tell how tense I was? Probably not. I’d perfected the art of masking my unease, even around Luna.

Well, mostly.

Luna knew better, though. She always did.

Who was I kidding? Luna never missed a thing. She just rarely called me out on it. She chose to let me keep the illusion of composure, trusting that I’d talk to her when I was ready.

My wandering led me through the same corridor twice, a fact I only realized when I’d passed the same ornate tapestry twice. A trio of maids glanced at me, their curiosity evident before they hastily returned to arranging bouquets of flowers.

“Come on,” I muttered under my breath, frustration seeping into my tone. “Get it together.”

As I approached the side corridor leading to the main entrance, my stride slowed. I could already picture Celestia, Twilight, and Luna standing there, poised to greet Cadance and the Crystal Empire’s delegation. My place was with them, beside Luna, fulfilling my role as her consort — a visible symbol of unity and strength.

And yet, my steps faltered, as if my body resisted what my mind knew I had to do.

I stopped, inhaling deeply. The faint smell of fresh paint clung to the air, mingling with the sharper scent of polished wood, and soft floral undertones from distant arrangements.

This wasn’t about my struggles or the memories of what I’d endured. It wasn’t about the wounds I carried or the nightmares that lingered. This was about Equestria. About Luna. About building a future where what Chrysalis had done could never be repeated, not to me, not to anyone.

It was about hope. About peace.

Exhaling, I straightened my posture, allowing the simple act of breathing air to steady me. I counted silently to ten, then started forward once more. Each step carried purpose now, a silent promise to myself and to those I cared for. They’re waiting, along with the first of the dignitaries.

It was time to face them. All of them.

The muffled murmur of voices reached my ears as I neared the grand entrance. The guards flanking the doors stood like marble sentinels, their discipline flawless, their gazes unyielding. Beyond them, sunlight spilled through the towering double doors, bathing the space where Celestia, Twilight, and Luna waited.

Luna’s eyes met mine the instant I came into view. Her calm gaze seemed to quiet the chaos in my mind, grounding me without the need for anything spoken. I offered a faint nod and moved to her side, standing to her right where I belonged.

Celestia spared me a brief glance, her serene demeanor unchanged, though there was an unspoken acknowledgment in her gaze. To her left, Twilight Sparkle fidgeted, adjusting the sash draped across her shoulders. The garment was simple yet dignified, a symbol of her importance despite her lack of official titles.

It made me pause. Twilight’s presence here suddenly struck me as odd. She was undeniably important as Celestia’s star pupil and one of the bearers of the Elements of Harmony. But the Elements are out of commission — for now at least — and Twilight held no formal title that carried any sort of weight in political circles.

The answer began to take shape in my mind. Celestia had plans for her — plans that extended far beyond mere mentorship. Perhaps Twilight was destined to follow in Cadance’s hoofsteps, to ascend as an alicorn.

The realization struck like a lightning bolt.

Celestia had been guiding Twilight toward this destiny for years, perhaps even decades before she was even born. Cadance, the last living heir to the Crystal Empire’s throne, became Twilight’s foalsitter creating an early connection. Twilight herself would then go on to become the bearer of the Element of Magic, which would then facilitate the reunion between Celestia and Luna. Meanwhile, Shining Armor rose to be the Captain the Solar Guard and would even go on to marry Cadance, intertwining their lives even further. These couldn’t be isolated events; there are far too many conveniences to not be some sort of grand design.

But how could I prove it?

I had no concrete evidence, just an intricate web of implications and speculation. The old me would have been consumed by paranoia or resentment at the mere idea of this level of manipulation. But now? Now, I didn’t care if Celestia had manipulated the whole damn world to dance to her tune. Because that dance had led me to Luna.

If Celestia’s orchestrations had led me to the love of my life, then how could I ever resent it?

The sound of hoofsteps echoed from the courtyard, breaking me free from my thoughts of puppets on strings. The Crystal Empire’s delegation was here.

Luna shifted, the sunlight catching her peytral and casting a soft glow. “Cadance arrives,” she murmured, her voice a quiet certainty that seemed to echo the inevitability of the moment.

I exhaled slowly, keeping my expression neutral as the guards moved to open the grand doors. A gust of cool mountain air swept into the hall, carrying with it the faint tinkling of crystal bells.

The first to step inside was Cadance herself.

The title of Empress suited her well. She wore the regalia of her new station with ease, her head held high. Her crown, a delicate arrangement of silver and crystal that caught the light in dazzling patterns, framed her determined yet kind expression. Her long, flowing gown shimmered like the aurora that had signified the Crystal Heart’s reactivation, the fabric shifting between shades of soft blue and pink with each step. Behind her trailed a retinue of crystal ponies I’d never seen before, their expressions a mixture of pride and awe at being in Canterlot for such a momentous event.

“Princess Celestia. Princess Luna,” Cadance greeted warmly, her voice carrying the melodic cadence I remembered from before. Her gaze lingered briefly on Twilight, and her smile softened.

“Twilight,” she added, a note of affection slipping into her tone.

Twilight beamed, almost bouncing in place as she replied, “Cadance! Oh, I mean — Empress Cadance.”

Thankfully they didn’t shake their asses at each other. I wouldn’t be able to hold back my reaction if they did that again.

The moment earned a quiet chuckle from Celestia, whose composure remained intact as she inclined her head. “Empress Cadance, welcome. It is a joy to see you again, and to host the Crystal Empire for such an important gathering.”

“It is an honor to be here,” Cadance replied, her smile widening. Her attention shifted then, her gaze landing on me. For a fleeting moment, the weight of her title melted away, and she looked at me not as the Empress of the Crystal Empire but as someone who was greeting a friend.

“Sebastian,” she greeted, her voice quieter but no less steady. “It’s good to see you again.”

“You as well,” I replied, inclining my head slightly. Formality seemed most appropriate for this moment, even if my gut twisted at the absence of Shining Armor by her side. I knew he’d stayed behind to guard their ponies, but the greedy part of me had hoped he could make it.

Behind Cadance, her delegation stepped forward. They bore themselves with the dignity of their freshly returned empire, each adorned with crystal accents that refracted light in soft rainbows across the polished floor. Their leader, a tall stallion with a coat that gleamed like diamond, presented their credentials to Celestia with a practiced bow.

The formalities continued as the Crystal Empire’s representatives exchanged greetings with the gathered royals, each word carefully chosen and clearly rehearsed. I kept my posture straight, my eye roamed occasionally to the movement of the guards, the distant shadows in the hall, the crystal ponies’ subtle shifts in expression.

The formalities of the Crystal Empire’s arrival drew to a close, and the grand hall fell into a brief lull. The air, heavy with the scent of freshly polished stone and subtle floral undertones, held an almost palpable tension. Each passing moment felt like the calm before a storm, though outwardly, the scene was serene.

I remained at Luna’s side, hands clasped behind my back. My posture was rigid but composed, just like Blueblood had taught me. Luna’s presence beside me, an unyielding pillar of quiet strength, was both a comfort and a reminder. I wasn’t here for myself — I was here for her, for Equestria, for the fragile hope this summit represented.

The next arrivals were heralded by the sharp clicking of talons on polished stone. A trio of griffons entered, each steeped in exaggerated dignity.

The Three Kings of Griffons.

To an untrained observer, their presence might have seemed unified — three proud rulers representing the fragmented remains of the old griffon kingdom. But the tension between them was visible to me now thanks to Blueblood’s tutelage. Every once in a while they’d throw each other the occasional sharp glance, and their wings were held constantly stiff to their sides.

They absolutely despised each other.

King Gottfried led the procession, his plumage streaked with silver, his armor polished to a gleaming finish. He walked with a confidence that dared anyone to question his claim to the griffon throne.

Beside him, King Gerald exuded a more feral energy, his golden eyes scanning the room as if assessing every potential threat — or ally. His darker feathers blended seamlessly into his black battle leathers, giving him the appearance of a predator poised to strike.

Trailing just a step behind was King Gable, the youngest of the three. His feathers shimmered with a bluish hue, and his light ceremonial armor was adorned with intricate engravings that glinted in the sunlight. His posture was less rigid, though his sharp gaze betrayed a calculating mind.

The griffons stopped a respectful distance from Celestia, Luna, and Cadance. Gottfried inclined his head first, a gesture echoed — if somewhat reluctantly — by the other two kings.

“Princess Celestia, Princess Luna, Empress Cadance,” Gottfried greeted, his voice a deep rumble. “It is an honor to stand here among such esteemed company.”

His words dripped with formality, but the sideways glance he gave Gerald and Gable suggested that formality was not the main thing on his mind.

“The honor is ours,” Celestia replied with a smooth diplomatic tone. “Your presence speaks to the importance of this summit.”

Formalities continued, the griffons’ posturing against each other was subtle but ever-present. I couldn’t help but keep my eye on them, noting every flick of a tail or twitch of a wing. The Three Kings were allies in name only, and their grudges ran deep.

A part of me doubted that anything lasting would come from the three.

Before long, the sound of enormous footsteps echoed through the hall, each one resonating like distant thunder. The ground seemed to tremble slightly as Dragon Lord Torch made his entrance.

The dragon’s massive frame seemed barely contained by the towering arches of the grand entrance. His scales, a deep cobalt that dully reflected the daylight, and atop his head sat a crown of fire-red jewels. He was truly imposing by Equis’ draconic standards.

Torch’s booming voice filled the hall as he spoke. “Ponies of Equestria! I, Dragon Lord Torch, have come as agreed. Let us waste no time in discussing matters that concern the Dragon Lands and beyond.”

Despite his massive presence, Celestia stepped forward without hesitation, inclining her head in greeting. “Dragon Lord Torch, we welcome you. Your wisdom and experience will undoubtedly enrich our discussions.”

Torch gave a gruff snort but seemed satisfied with her response. His massive tail swept across the floor as he moved to take his designated place, leaving scorch marks in his wake.

Next came Prince Abraxas of Farasi, a zebra with a regal bearing and intricate tribal markings across his coat. He wore a cloak of deep indigo lined with gold and silversheen, the patterns echoing the vibrant tapestries of his homeland. He greeted the assembled royalty with a calm, measured voice, his words carrying a sort of rhythmic cadence that sounded almost like he was about to break into rhyme.

The formalities continued, the grand hall buzzing with a charged energy that ebbed and flowed as each delegation made their entrance. My gaze flicked from one ruler to the next, my fingers absently tracing the cool, smooth surface of the Wizard's Arm as it rested at my side.

Abraxas’ entrance had been graceful and calculated — everything I’d expect from the ruler of Farasi, if Blueblood’s experience in Farasi was to be trusted. He moved with the ease of someone who understood his power, a subtle confidence that was mirrored in his attire. The silversheen accents on his cloak caught the light in a way that reminded me of the arm at my side.

In this moment It was impossible not to think of its origins as my fingers brushed over the intricate runes I’d etched into the silver. Zebrat craftsmanship and my own arcane magic — both working in harmony to create a tool that was now as much a part of me as my own flesh. I flexed the prosthetic’s fingers experimentally, the sensation of magic pulsing through its structure a comfortingly familiar sensation.

Prince Abraxas had been instrumental in its creation. I’d never met him, but Luna said that he’d evidently taken great care to ensure that the alchemists under his rule crafted something worthy of my station — or, perhaps, worthy of Luna’s.

And now, here I was, standing in the same room as its patron.

I glanced at Abraxas as he addressed Celestia, Luna, and Cadance. Would he even acknowledge me? I wasn’t royalty, not in the way the rest were, yet I bore the mark of his generosity.

I could practically hear Blueblood in the back of my mind. If he were here he’d criticize me for slouching an inch, before giving me an overly lengthy lecture on why Abraxas would acknowledge me, all the while slipping in backhanded compliments.

Then, I would counter it all by calling him nephew. I smirked at that. I wish Blueblood were here, but he wasn't high enough in the ranks of royalty to get an invite. Instead, he was somewhere in the castle doing me a favor.

My silversheen arm instinctively shifted at my side, almost as if reacting to the thought of Blueblood and Abraxas. The runes pulsed faintly as it held back the Decay, a rhythmic beat that matched the flow of the magic coursing through it. I couldn’t help but feel a flicker of pride at how far I’d pushed its capabilities.

Abraxas’ gaze shifted as he finished greeting the princesses, and for a moment, I thought he was about to move past me. But then his eyes locked onto the Wizard’s Arm, recognition sparking in his expression.

“Consort of the Moon,” he greeted smoothly, his voice carrying the same rhythmic cadence he held with the others. “It is good to see the silversheen of Farasi serving you well. A gift, perhaps, but also a challenge — for no metal should outshine the one who wields it. I trust it serves you well?”

I inclined my head, the corner of my mouth twitching upward in acknowledgment. “Prince Abraxas,” I greeted evenly. “Better than I could’ve imagined. Your alchemists’ craft has saved my life more than once, though I admit I’ve done some... fine-tuning.”

His lips curved into a subtle smile, approval shining in his eyes. “A fitting response. The silversheen was always meant to adapt — to grow alongside its bearer. I’m pleased to see it has found a worthy hand, even if only one.”

The remark carried no malice, only an appreciation for what had been achieved. And with that, he moved on, his attention already shifting to the next figure in the room.

I exhaled softly, my focus returning to the arm. The Wizard’s Arm had always meant to be more than just a prosthetic, and moments like this proved that sentiment to be true. It was a bridge between worlds, a physical symbol of alliances and tenacity. Of flesh and metal, life and Decay, and so much more.

The thud of hooves against stone drew my attention as Prince Rutherford of Yakyakistan entered, his booming laughter filling the hall like a clap of thunder. His exuberance stood in stark contrast to the quiet intensity of Abraxas, but that was Yaks for you — unapologetically themselves.

“Yaks ready to talk peace!” he declared, his voice shaking the walls as he stomped a hoof. “Prince Rutherford bring wisdom of yaks to table!”

The hall filled with silence, and someone in the back muffled a chuckle at his enthusiasm. After a beat the formalities resumed just as swiftly as they had paused. The amassed delegates offered their greetings to each other, each voice adding to the mosaic of nations gathered here.

And then the doors opened again.

The air shifted, an almost imperceptible chill creeping into the room despite the sunlight streaming through the tall windows. The undercurrent of unease sharpened, prickling at my senses.

Chrysalis had arrived.

She moved with a predator’s grace, her every step exuding an unsettling poise. Her piercing green gaze swept over the room, and I fought the instinct to recoil under it. Each glance felt calculated, as though she were filing away weaknesses for later use. But something was wrong. She wasn’t nearly the imposing figure I remembered. Her frame seemed frailer, her features sharper with a hollowness that hadn’t been there before.

Thorax trailed close beside her, his nervous blue eyes darting toward the gathered dignitaries. Whatever had worn Chrysalis down had left its mark on him too, his once-hopeful energy muted.

Her honor guard followed in formation, their glowing green eyes leaving faint reflections on the floor. They moved with an attempt at precision, but even they seemed less threatening than the changelings I had once fought. Thinner, frailer. Shadows of what they once were.

“Princesses, empress,” Chrysalis greeted, her voice silky and dripping with what was certainly false civility. “How wonderful it is to see you all again.”

Her gaze shifted to me, a cruel smile curling at the edges of her lips. “And you, my dear Sebastian. It seems you’ve been keeping busy.”

Luna’s wing brushed lightly against my shoulder, her silent reassurance keeping me from snapping. I said nothing. I kept my expression as neutral as possible, though my remaining hand gripped tightly at my silversheen hand behind my back.

The room grew deathly still, every delegate’s eyes latching onto Chrysalis as she moved deeper into the hall. Her voice lingered in the air, its venomous undertone as deliberate as the slow sway of her stride. The faint echo of her hooves on the polished floor grated against my ears.

I stood rigid, my focus fixed on her, waiting for the inevitable jab or veiled threat. The faint pressure of Luna’s wing at my side calmed me — if only barely.

The missing empathic link in my mind stirred. It was as if a hollow note reverberated through my soul, aching for something that could never return, something that had long since been murdered. Aldin’s absence was a wound that refused to fully heal. And here she was, striding in like she hadn’t shattered everything.

As if she deserved to still be alive.

The rage came unbidden, hot and searing. It churned through me, tightening my chest, coiling around every breath like a vice. My eye slid down to Chrysalis's right side, and the jagged stump where her wing had once been. I remembered the moment I severed it, the arc of Promise cleaving through chitin and sinew, her scream tearing through the air. The satisfaction I had felt then was a distant echo now, muted by time and grief.

The fury didn’t last.

It twisted, hardened, and then froze, turning into something cold and sharp. Ice in my veins. I grasped onto it for dear life to keep the fear at bay. My lips curled into something that might have been a smile, although it lacked any warmth.

“It suits you,” my voice came from me low and cutting. “The missing wing.”

Chrysalis halted mid-step, her confident smirk faltering as her eyes narrowed. The room, already tense, seemed to hold its collective breath. Her horn flickered faintly, a pulse of green that matched the flaring anger in her eyes.

“Sebastian,” she purred, regaining her composure with a sinister grin. “Still so fond of your little quips. Tell me, do you dream of that day? Reliving it over and over again as though it mattered?” She leaned in, her tone dropping. “Do you miss him?”

Before she could say more, I shifted my attention to Thorax, cutting her off entirely. The rage evaporated like steam under the light of something far more important.

“Thorax,” I greeted, the genuine warmth in my voice a deliberate contrast to the chill that had permeated the hall. “It’s good to see you again.”

Thorax’s head snapped up, his ears twitching in surprise. For a brief moment his nervousness melted away, and was replaced by the same hesitant but sincere hope I remembered. Despite the circumstances, I was truly happy to see him again.

“Sebastian,” he stammered, his wings buzzing faintly. “I — it’s good to see you too.” He glanced at Chrysalis, who was now glaring daggers at both of us, before returning his gaze to me. “Truly.”

I nodded, giving him a slight smile, one that didn’t reach my eye but held its own truth. “We’ll catch up later. I know the best donut shop in all of Canterlot.”

Chrysalis bristled beside him, her fury barely contained. Her hoof scraped against the floor in an aborted step forward. “You dare ignore me?” she hissed, her voice entirely losing its mask of civility.

I turned back to her, my expression carefully neutral as I straightened. “Oh no, I wouldn’t dream of it,” I replied dryly, the sarcasm in my tone sharpening like a blade.

Luna’s wing pressed against me again, a tad firmer this time. As though she was reminding me not to push too far, this summit was meant to foster peaceful relations after all. The hall’s atmosphere crackled with tension, but I didn’t look away from Chrysalis.

Chrysalis’s emerald eyes narrowed dangerously, her gaze boring into me as though she could peel me apart layer by layer. The faint hum of her magic tickled at the edge of my senses, a warning that her patience — what little she had — was fraying.

Before it could escalate further, Celestia stepped forward, her voice ringing with the calm authority that only millennia of rule could command. “Queen Chrysalis,” she said evenly, her tone a perfect balance of regal courtesy and unyielding strength. “Welcome to Canterlot. We are pleased to host this summit, and I trust that you and your delegation will find your accommodations suitable.”

The subtle emphasis on ‘trust’ was impossible to miss. Chrysalis merely smirked, her expression slipping back into its mask of composure. “How gracious of you, Princess,” she replied, her tone oozing with mock sincerity. “I’m sure we’ll be quite… comfortable.”

Celestia’s serene smile didn’t even waver an inch. “Excellent. The official summit will commence in two hours. Until then, my attendants will escort each delegation to their quarters.” She turned to the assembled representatives. “If there is anything you require, please do not hesitate to inform us.”

A ripple of polite acknowledgments followed, though the tension in the room remained palpable. The griffon kings exchanged wary glances, their feathers ruffling slightly. Prince Rutherford stomped a hoof and muttered something about ‘yak patience,’ while Dragon Lord Torch simply observed the proceedings with a low rumble of interest.

Celestia turned toward Twilight, her wing gesturing subtly. “Twilight, if you would accompany me? There are matters to prepare before the summit begins.”

Twilight hesitated, her gaze flitted to me briefly before she nodded and stepped forward. “Of course, Princess Celestia.” Her voice was steady, but there was an undercurrent of apprehension in her posture. She knew as well as I did how delicate this summit was, and what could happen if it went bad.

As the room began to stir with movement, delegations filing out in the company of royal guards and attendants, Luna leaned in close. Her voice was low so that only I could hear. “Come. There is somewhere quiet we can go.”

I nodded wordlessly, the icy calm that had settled in me earlier still clung to me like a second skin. She led the way out of the hall, her wingtip brushing lightly against my arm as we moved. I was dimly aware of the murmur of voices and the faint clatter of hooves on marble behind us, but it all felt distant and unimportant. The only thing keeping me from doing something that I knew I would regret was Luna’s presence, without her I would be trapped in the memory of that hell that was the day of my ascension. I would act out, and then there would be one less queen to worry about.

We navigated the winding corridors of the castle, Luna’s pace deliberate but unhurried. She didn’t speak, and I was grateful for the silence. The further we went from the main hall, the quieter the castle became, until the only sounds were our own steps and the faint whisper of wind through the corridors.

Finally, she pushed open a set of heavy wooden doors, revealing a small room. A single stained-glass window cast patterns of sunlight across the stone floor. The room was almost entirely barren, except for a single chair set at a small table.

Luna closed the door behind us, her magic sealing it with a soft shimmer. She turned to face me, her gaze steady and searching. “You held your composure well,” she spoke softly, her tone neither praising nor reproachful. “But I can feel the wrath within you.”

I exhaled slowly, my shoulders sagging as the weight of everything pressed down anew. “It’s a miracle I didn’t snap,” I admitted, my voice rougher than I intended. “Every second she was in that room, I could feel it — like she was taunting me without even trying.”

“She knows how to provoke you,” Luna replied, stepping closer. Her wing extended, brushing lightly against the small of my back. “And you are letting her. She desires to see you lose yourself.”

I met her gaze, the depth of her eyes like a night sky I could lose myself in. I exhaled, the anger that had simmered beneath my skin turned now to a dull ache. “It’s not just her,” I admitted as I allowed myself to appreciate the blue of her eyes. “It’s everything. Being in the same room with her after everything she’s done… It’s reopening old wounds.”

She rested a hoof against my chest, just above the scar where our Promise had once pierced my heart, her hoof warm against the memory of pain. “You are stronger than her,” she murmured, her voice resolute. “Stronger than the fear she wields. Your strength is in how you endure, how you rise above the darkness she sows. I would never ask you to face her if I didn’t believe that with all my heart.”

Her words settled over me, and melted the icy rage that had settled into my veins. I could almost see myself in her eyes, those endless pools of cyan that seemed to reflect our love. “Thank you,” I whispered. “For reminding me.”

She smiled faintly, her wing wrapping around my back. “Always, my moonlight. Now, we have a little under two hours before the summit is to commence. How should we prepare?”

I let out a low hum, and thought for a second. “Mentally,” I responded finally. “We should center ourselves so that we are mentally prepared for what is to come.”

Luna tilted her head, her mane shimmering faintly as it moved. “Agreed,” she said. Her gaze swept the room, assessing the sparse furnishings before returning to me. “Sit with your back to the wall,” she instructed gently. “It will help you feel more secure.”

I hesitated for a moment before nodding, stepping toward the far wall. The cool stone met my back as I lowered myself to the floor. My Wizard’s Arm, its silversheen fingers faintly catching the filtered light from the stained-glass window, rested awkwardly at my side.

Luna approached smoothly, her hoofsteps little more than whispers against the stone. Without a word, she lowered herself onto the floor beside me before gently laying her head in my lap. Her ethereal mane spilled across my legs like a river of stars.

I stiffened slightly, suddenly unsure of what to do with my hands — especially with the Wizard’s Arm. The sight of its cold metal fingers hovering uncertainly above her gave me pause. “Are you sure about this?” I asked. “I can’t feel anything through it… and if the Decay—”

Luna’s eyes fluttered open and met mine with a quiet sort of certainty. “You could never hurt me,” she said simply. Her voice carried the kind of calm conviction that brooked no room for argument. “And you know I would stop you if there was any danger. Trust me, my love, as I trust you.”

I swallowed hard, the lump in my throat a mix of gratitude and lingering doubt. Slowly, I brought a silversheen hand to rest on her mane, the sensation — or lack thereof — disconcerting. Still, I let the metal fingers stroke gently through her flowing hair, mimicking the motions I would have made with my left hand, or with my missing right hand.

To my surprise, Luna sighed softly, her body relaxing against me. “See?” she murmured. “Perfectly safe. And soothing, I might add.”

I couldn’t help the faint quirk of my lips, though the motion still felt strange on my scarred face. “Glad it’s working for one of us.”

Her laugh was soft, almost musical, and the sound eased something in me I hadn’t realized had tightened. “It’s working for both of us,” she corrected, her voice tinged with warmth. “You are calmer now than when we entered.”

I didn’t argue.

She wasn’t wrong. The simple act of being with her, of focusing on her instead of the storm of memories and dread in my mind, was helping. My left hand found its way to her mane as well, the contrast between the cool metal of the Wizard’s Arm and the warmth of my flesh felt almost symbolic.

For a while, we sat in silence. Somewhere, deeper in the castle, I could hear the occasional distant murmur of castle life. My breaths slowed, each one a little easier than the last.

“Luna,” I said after a long stretch of silence. “Thank you.”

Her eyes opened again, their light catching mine. “You’ve already thanked me, my moonlight,” she replied softly.

“This is different,” I said, my voice steady now. “Thank you for being here. For always being here.”

Her smile was small but no less genuine, and she shifted slightly, pressing her cheek against my leg. “Always,” she repeated, the word carrying a promise that felt far deeper than any spoken vow.

For the first time in what felt like hours, my thoughts stopped racing. There was no Chrysalis, no summit, no memories clawing at the edges of my mind. There was only Luna, her head resting in my lap, her trust in me as unshakable as the moon she commanded.

For now, there was only us.

This moment was a sliver of peace.

And I wasn’t ready to let it go.