"Lyra! —Ugh!"
Before I could greet her properly, I was tackled by a strong hug from Lyra.
"Hello, Wizbell," said Bon Bon, whom I was finally able to recognize once the surprise faded.
Lyra called me by my nickname, beaming with joy, exclaiming how much she had missed me. Her hug nearly made me bounce along with her. Bon Bon let out a small chuckle at the sight of Lyra's excitement, while Stella leapt to the window frame, away from the commotion.
Soon after, Lyra calmed down and we all took our seats. I told her I had missed her too, and that our schedules made it difficult to meet in person. Lyra nodded with a smile, but then tilted her head.
"Where are you headed? I don't remember you mentioning in your letters that you were leaving Canterlot."
"I'm moving to Ponyville," I replied calmly.
Lyra blinked a couple of times. Her mouth slowly opened, and without warning, she gave a little bounce in her seat.
"You too?! You're going to love the town—I'm moving to Ponyville too!" she exclaimed, bursting with excitement. Her eyes sparkled like she had been waiting to say that since the moment she saw me.
Bon Bon just smiled, as if she had expected that to happen.
"I graduated recently," Lyra continued, still glowing with that contagious energy. "From both degrees. Professional music… and magical research."
She straightened up a little, trying to look proud but not boastful. "It was hard, but I used a lot of the notes Sunburst lent me… and some of yours too, well, the ones I asked your mom for when you weren't around."
I couldn't help but smile. "So that's why my folders kept coming back more crumpled than I remembered."
She giggled softly.
"Bon Bon and I are moving in together. The new house is almost ready. It'll be small at first, but enough to start."
I nodded. "Mine's ready too. Well… ready to move into. There are still a few things to adjust, but it's livable."
"How exciting!" Lyra exclaimed. "We're going to live in the same town!"
We kept talking for the rest of the trip, mostly reminiscing about Canterlot and a few uncomfortable experiences with nobles —me at the castle, and her at the galas her family was invited to.
"One time," Lyra said, rolling her eyes, "a noble mare asked if I ever planned to wear gloves in the future, because apparently my hooves were 'too expressive' when playing the harp."
"Too expressive?" I repeated, incredulous.
"As if that's a bad thing! Of course, my mother made me apologize with a perfect bow. But inside I wanted to scream." Her expression twisted dramatically, until she let out a puff of air and flopped back into her seat.
"Thank Celestia," she declared, "I'm free now!" And she proved it by striking a pose that had nothing refined about it… and honestly looked more like something out of a human magazine I remembered from my past life. One leg stretched out, the other bent over the seatback, a hoof dangling midair. Indefensible.
Obviously, that was not something she would ever do in Canterlot.
I laughed —first quietly, then it slipped out completely. The scene was ridiculous. And when Bon Bon raised an eyebrow and muttered, "...and this is how she plans to impress the mayor", it became impossible to hold back. The laughter became contagious and soon filled the carriage.
We kept chatting and joking like that until the scenery outside the window began to change. The mountains faded behind us. The air felt clearer.
And Ponyville Station wasn't far off.
After saying goodbye with a hug from Lyra and a simple wave from Bon Bon, I gathered my things with a basic spell. All my luggage floated behind me in an orderly formation as I began walking toward my new house, following the directions in the gift letter Celestia had given me —along with the deed.
The atmosphere was completely different. Calm. Serene. Nothing like the fast-paced, crowded life of Canterlot. No clocks ticking behind everypony's back, no traffic of carriages, no constant stream of overloaded, ambitious magic.
And best of all: magical serenity.
There weren't those filthy intentions hanging in the air, so intense in Canterlot that they became impossible to ignore. Those hidden magical emotions, those unspoken ambitions, the tension disguised as politeness.
Here… everything felt light. Fluid. Quiet, in a gentle way. I felt my magical senses finally relax.
The morning humidity clung softly to my coat, and even Stella —walking silently next to me— didn't complain about having to walk instead of floating in her bag.
"After I drop off my things, I should introduce myself to the mayor," I reminded myself. A basic custom in Equestrian towns: the local authority had to know about new residents. Not just out of formality… but because any newcomer could be either a blessing or a warning.
I kept walking through the rural streets, thatched roofs and dirt roads worn down by the passage of carts. A few ponies looked up, curious, but said nothing. They simply observed.
A peaceful stroll.
But I swear I saw something.
Something pink.
It was in the corner of my eye, just as that familiar feeling of being watched crawled down the back of my neck. I turned my head, trying to focus on the exact spot where I had felt that tiny magical pressure.
Nothing.
Just a house with overflowing flowerbeds, a carrot-filled cart… and a rusted windmill spinning slowly in the breeze.
I frowned.
Stella looked that way too but said nothing. She simply lifted her tail with disdain, like dismissing the matter entirely.
I shook my head.
"Must be the trip… or the humidity." But I kept walking, now just a little more alert.
That would've been a normal thought. Reasonable. But my paranoia —carefully nurtured by Rogue through every training session and simulation— was already well-developed.
My instincts had never failed me.
And today wouldn't be the first time.
In a single breath, I cast a series of spells around me: an illusion field to mask my movements, a paralysis trap anchored to the ground, and a flash burst to disorient any nearby presence.
Flash!
Zap!
Click!
The spell activated just in time.
In front of me, suspended mid-air and glowing in the magical field, was a completely pink pony blinking wide-eyed.
"Woooooah!"
Her pupils sparkled with raw excitement.
"That was amazing! Brilliant! Explosive! How did you do that? Did you cast them all at once or was it a chain combo? Did you study in Canterlot? Did you train alone? Can I try it? Can I do it too? Do you like muffins or cupcakes more? What's your favorite color? Do you like welcome parties? And balloons? What kind of ponies don't you like? And do you like cheese? Are you allergic to anything? Can I call you Wizzy? Are you new here? WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?!"
The paralysis trap snapped with a dry pop.
Not because it failed.
But because it wasn't built to contain a talking hurricane.
Somehow —a way I didn't understand and probably never would— the pink mare floated toward me on her own energy, circling me while her words bounced around with no pause or order, nearly overloading my ability to process information.
My brain begged for a break.
Stella huffed and retreated into my saddlebag.
I could only take a step back.
"...Who—?"
"Oh! Right! I'm Pinkie Pie!"
And then she smiled.
Big.
"Well, that's one way to meet somepony…"
I dismissed the magic around us.
There was no need to keep the spells active after confirming her magical signature.
Pure harmony.
Earth pony.
Sugary... yes, her magical presence had a distinctly sugary tone and I don't know how I know it.
I introduced myself properly, calm and polite, greeting the hyperactive pony who looked like she might burst from pure joy. And sugar. I was pretty sure I saw a muffin tangled somewhere in the curls of her impossibly pink mane.
"Wizbell Star. Pleased to meet you." I gave a slight bow.
She nodded rapidly—way too rapidly for what should be natural. Then she began to recite things.
"You live in the new house north of the old windmill! You arrived today on the 8:15 train, you have a cat named Stella, your magical records say you're a unicorn with light affinity, and once you rejected a honey-cream pie at a winter gala!"
She continued, her voice slowing slightly.
"You're also friends with Lyra and Flash… and when you were younger, you really liked watermelon candies. You used them to calm down when you got stressed. And…" —her voice lowered to a near-whisper— "you love heroic fantasy stories. The kind with capes, magic swords, and epic endings…"
I stayed still. Watching her.
A little worried.
She noticed my expression.
"Sometimes I read the mayor's registry logs!" she blurted quickly, defensive, raising her hooves like that would clear her of any wrongdoing.
"Well, if you'll excuse me… byeeeeee! I've got cupcakes to bake!" Pinkie Pie shouted before disappearing in a flash of cartoonish speed, leaving behind a faint trail of confetti and a lot of unanswered questions.
I stood there, blinking.
I watched her vanish around a distant corner like it was nothing.
Then let out a resigned sigh.
"Well… everypony has their quirks."
I didn't give it much more thought and resumed my walk.
It didn't take long to arrive.
My new house.
A simple structure, with dark wooden bars and walls in a warm cream tone —designed to match the village aesthetic without standing out. The roof was tiled, just the way I wanted: perfect for that soft tapping sound when it rained. The kind of relaxing noise I'd grown used to in Canterlot.
The property was enclosed by a short fence. Easy to jump, but enough to mark the land.
Out front, a modest, well-kept garden with a small apple tree —transplanted from a local orchard. It already had its first blossoms.
I nodded, satisfied.
Stella leapt from my bag to the ground, stretched lazily, and slipped through the small pet door built into the main one without hesitation.
As for me, I started organizing my belongings with magic. Nothing special —just the standard setup protocol.
But the fun came after.
The real part.
I lit my horn and began tracing the first runes in the air. Glowing lines spread into the walls, floors, and frames, each settling naturally like the house had been waiting for them.
It wasn't decoration.
It was security.
Prevention.
Peace of mind.
To avoid magical anomalies, disturbances, or leaks, I raised an arcane formation around the entire property. I used enchanted dice I'd crafted myself, each marked with active runes capable of linking into a functional sensory web.
I moved slowly through the house, precise, establishing each node with care.
Basic protection.
Well… basic by my standards as a mage.
The process drained nearly all my magic.
But that was expected.
The shield was designed to withstand my strongest spell at least three times before breaking.
That was the whole point: a reactive membrane, able to absorb and disperse magical impact without shattering the core formation.
The perimeter would reject anyone approaching with ill intentions directed at me.
It wouldn't hurt them.
But they wouldn't get in.
A magical wall —literal and absolute— would push them back with the clarity of a silent message:
"You're not welcome."
A solid barrier, invisible to the naked eye, but as real as a locked door. Not violent, but unmistakable.
The pet door... would only work for Stella.
Though, if she chose, she could also allow other ponies access to the house by channeling a bit of my magic. Nothing complicated—just a gesture, a signal, or a clear intention would be enough for the barrier to recognize her as a mediator.
But best of all...
Inside my house, it was an eternal winter.
No snow. Just cold.
The kind that makes you want to jump with joy when you crawl under the covers. Feeling the blanket, the bed, the pillow... all slightly chilly. And that sublime moment when you flip the pillow and it's perfectly cold on the other side.
There's nothing better than that.
From the outside, the house looked normal. Peaceful. Just like any other in Ponyville.
But on the inside…
No one could hear me if something exploded in my lab.
No one would hear if I shouted a curse out of frustration with some stubborn spell.
And most importantly, I wouldn't be disturbed by any outside noise, unless, of course, someone knocked on the door.
That's how it had to be.
That was my space.
"You got carried away… you said you'd spread the enchantments over the next few days."
Stella's voice came from the doorway—calm, but with that specific tone she used whenever something didn't sit right with her. I saw her eyes scanning the runes still floating in the air, rotating gently as they settled into the magical framework.
Then she looked at me. Concerned.
I just smiled back, satisfied.
"After all this time, you should know how fast my magical recovery is."
"That's not the point!" she snapped.
Her tail whipped through the air, ears flattening slightly. I knew that look. She'd seen me push past my limits—again.
She floated up and started scolding me, batting my face repeatedly with her soft paw as if that would reset my judgment.
I tried dodging her, but her persistence matched my love for magic, a lot, and that's an understatement.
"No, no, and no. You drained yourself completely and you think you're going to the basement. Not happening!"
The basement was already stocked. All I had left was to enchant the structures.
But before I could reply, Stella transformed. Her body expanded into her beast form—not large by average standards, but big and dense enough to block the basement entrance like a living wall.
Moving her wasn't an option. Not with her absurd magic resistance.
"Go talk to the mayor," she ordered, licking her paw with complete indifference. "No basement for you today."
I sighed, resigned.
"You take the fun out of life..."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, Scroll hoarder." Her sarcastic tone was the last thing I heard before I turned toward the kitchen.
She always had to have the last word.
There was no point in arguing. I didn't have the energy for a verbal match I was destined to lose.
Bored at the idea of going to see the mayor instead of enchanting my lab, I opened the fridge and pulled out a watermelon popsicle.
It was hot outside.
Not enough to melt me... but definitely enough to justify the popsicle.
Leaving my house, I ran into something unexpected.
A pegasus filly with orange fur and a messy violet mane was in the middle of the street, proudly recounting a story like she'd just leapt out of an adventure novel. Her wings flapped out of rhythm as she spoke rapidly to a group of mares who looked more worried than impressed.
"And then two timberwolves appeared! Out of nowhere, two! I was riding away on my scooter when I heard the growls. But Flash came from the sky! Like lightning! Boom! He kicked one and slammed the other into a tree—without even opening his wings! Just... bam!"
One of the mares held a hoof to her chest. Another muttered, "By Celestia!" under her breath. But the filly didn't slow down. Her excitement only grew with each word.
Her enthusiasm wasn't normal. Not for somepony who, according to her, had just been nearly eaten by two magical wooden wolves.
What caught my attention the most was the name.
"The one who saved me was the new weather pegasus. Flash! He's almost as cool as Rainbow Dash... but quieter! And he has a scar on his eyebrow! Well... I think so, he doesn't let anypony get too close, but I'm sure it's real."
I had no idea who that filly was.
But she was clearly talking about my best friend.
I could already picture it. The timberwolves in pieces, wood flying everywhere, clean and precise movements.
I'd seen firsthand how fast he could be, with those anime-style midair direction shifts. His air-step.
A monster of explosive speed.
I shivered just remembering it. Not because it scared me… but because it was ridiculous. Flash was a weapon with wings, and now he worked... in weather management.
I kept walking, popsicle in mouth, silently hoping the mayor didn't assign him to mail delivery.
That would be... dangerous Or very efficient.
I headed toward the town hall.
No interruptions. No strange ponies, no surprise explosions, and thankfully, no more pink appearances. Just calm streets, brief greetings from strangers, and the pleasant sound of wind weaving through thatched rooftops.
The mayor's office was easy to spot. Central building, decent size, with Ponyville's flag waving lazily overhead. I entered with measured courtesy and announced myself.
Mayor Mare turned out to be a very friendly and helpful mare. Polite manners and a professional smile that didn't feel forced. She welcomed me warmly with a hoofshake and cheerful wishes for my stay in the town, though she was clearly busy.
Papers everywhere, a schedule board full of pins behind her desk, and soft muttering as she tried to keep up with preparations for the upcoming event.
The solstice.
The longest day of the year.
That day when Celestia raises the sun in front of everypony in a ceremonial display, painting the sky gold with her magic. A beautiful event, both for its energy and its symbolism. The one where, in wise words, "the day overcomes the night without conflict, only through presence."
Mayor Mare apologized a few times as she signed documents while explaining how the local celebrations worked. She handed me a temporary resident badge —one I'd need to update with the official form later— and gave me a cheerful welcome with kind wishes for my stay.
It wasn't a long meeting. Nor did it need to be. But it was cordial enough to give me a good first impression of the town… or at least, of its administration.
I didn't return home. Not with Stella probably guarding the basement like some sacred tomb.
So I went for something simpler: a quiet walk through the town, not rush, Just observation.
I mentally mapped key locations: the shopping district, the hospital, the school, the central plaza, small businesses spread across wide, pleasant streets. The layout was functional and open, with that rustic charm only towns seemed to have.
But the longer I walked, the more I started to stand out.
Or rather… to be recognized.
"The new resident," I overheard an elderly couple whisper. A group of schoolchildren greeted me shyly, curious. A mare in a flowered hat wished me a pleasant stay and gave me a small bag of homemade sweets.
Thankfully, my enchanted sweater could store anything I was given. It didn't weigh down, didn't stretch, and was discreet. Soon enough, it had turned into a walking bag of goodwill offerings.
Mostly food. Bread rolls, fruits, a little jar of jam, one of them... was that carrot jam?
I didn't ask. I just stored it.
I enjoyed the peace. The air was crisp, noise was minimal, and my magical senses were at ease.
Until a letter floated down right in front of me, interrupting my path.
It fell like a slow leaf—but its timing was exact, deliberate, I stopped.
The smell… sugar. Strong. Sweet, overwhelming. Almost aggressive.
The letter had my name written in large, uneven letters… in light blue crayon.
"You are cordially invited to spend your best afternoon in… my own house?"
I read it again.
Some childish prank? A local tradition? I didn't give it much thought.
I tucked it away with the other gifts and kept walking, continuing to map out the town in my mind. Streets, shops, return paths… and maybe spots to place magical anchors later. Just in case.