Two days had passed since we received the scroll containing the transformation spell, and I finally felt ready to try it. During those days, I had spent almost all my free time studying the spell.
Although I couldn't fully break it down — the formulas were far too advanced — I managed to understand the general function of the three main formulas and the associated runes.
A small achievement, but one that filled me with pride.
During that time, I also tried to turn the coin "tug-of-war" game with Sunburst into a regular habit.
"That's it, Sunburst! You almost moved it!" I said encouragingly, putting my coin away so I could keep talking to him.
"I'm not sure if it was just luck," he replied with a nervous smile.
Even though his progress was slow, every little improvement made me happy. It didn't matter if it was just a slight tremble in the coin or a few extra seconds of resistance; each victory was a step forward.
As for the bullies, their behavior had changed. They limited themselves to bothering Sunburst only inside the classroom—after I had a "friendly chat" with them.
...
"Do you have any problems you'd like to discuss with me?" I asked coldly, lifting them into the air with telekinesis as if they were toys. They wriggled around like worms, trying to break free and casting their magic, but nothing seemed to work.
"T-that's cheating! You can only do that because Celestia gives you secret tricks!" shouted one of them, kicking helplessly in the air.
"Keep telling yourselves that," I said calmly, letting them fall gently onto the ground. They scrambled to their hooves as quickly as possible, brushing the dirt off their decorative cloaks before walking away at a brisk pace. They didn't run, of course — running would be unworthy of a noble.
Since then, they had tried to bother me with childish pranks... Simple tricks, easy to spot and avoid, though I had to admire their persistence.
...
"Glue on the seat? That's preschool-level mischief..." I mocked, cleaning the trap away with a simple banishment spell.
Today, on the third day, Miss Maple proposed something special: We would demonstrate our progress with the transformation spell.
"Today, we'll see how far you've come," she announced with a small smile, glancing around the classroom — some students trying to hide under their desks, others bouncing excitedly in their seats.
It quickly became clear there were three main transformations available: Batpony, Nightmare, and Ghost.
When it was Lyra's turn, she managed to darken her coat until it was completely black.
"Look! I'm a shadow!" she exclaimed, spinning around and leaving a small trail of mist with every movement.
Twilight managed a little more: not only did she darken her coat, but her eyes also gained a faint, eerie reddish glow. Though, honestly, her small size didn't help much with the "terrifying" factor.
"It looked scary... but in a good way," Lyra said with a laugh.
Finally, it was my turn.
"Breathe... Focus..." I repeated to myself in my mind.
I felt the change immediately: my coat grew longer and fluffier, and my canines lengthened into sharp predator fangs. But my horn remained, and no wings appeared.
The feeling of the enlarged canines was strange and uncomfortable... Don't think about food, I warned myself. Unfortunately, my mind immediately made the connection — hunger... and hamburgers. Something I hadn't eaten since arriving here. Luckily, the pony palate had helped me a lot to adapt, but still... I would do anything for a good steak.
"Well," said Miss Maple after a few seconds of thoughtful evaluation, "that's definitely progress!"
After everyone had shown their results, Miss Maple gathered us together to discuss what had gone wrong.
"Runes must be replicated almost exactly," she explained, drawing a glowing circle in the air with her magic. "A single deviation, and the spell's function changes."
Soon, the board was filled with nine magic circles. The first row showed the correct version of each spell, while the others displayed common errors — mistakes Miss Maple had detected, mostly due to imagination gaps or misremembered parts of the formulas, causing the spells to malfunction.
It turned into an activity: We had to draw the spell from memory, then spot and explain the errors in a classmate's version if they were working on the same spell.
By the time recess arrived, everyone was busy exchanging spells or copying each other's scrolls — just like I did.
Recess had arrived, and like almost every day lately, we ended up gathered under our favorite spot in the schoolyard — the big apple tree. Our study scrolls were spread out between us, and today's topic, without a doubt, was the transformation spell.
While we debated its possible uses, I couldn't help but notice how excited Lyra was, her hooves fidgeting eagerly.
"Imagine this!" she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "I could use the spell in my concerts when I become a famous artist! A different form for every song!"
Twilight giggled softly, rolling her eyes fondly. "Just make sure you don't confuse your audience too much," she teased.
As we debated potential improvements and limitations, Sunburst — who was from another classroom and two grades above us — shyly approached. He walked with small, hesitant steps, unable to fully hide his nervousness.
"I'm still... not ready," he confessed, lowering his head. "I need more time to practice."
Lyra, always warm-hearted, was the first to respond, giving him a friendly pat on the shoulder.
"That's okay," she said encouragingly with a smile. "It's a complicated spell."
Sunburst nodded slightly, still looking a little uneasy. Even so, he stayed with us, gradually joining the conversation and kindly correcting us whenever we misunderstood something.
"Remember, the version of the spell in your scrolls is a modernized one," he explained calmly. "The original book, which is in the library, has the much older base version. It's less stable... but far more flexible for modifications."
Twilight blinked in surprise. "Really? That wasn't in the class notes!"
"Not everything is," Sunburst said, shrugging. "But if you compare the formulas, you'll see that the older version allows changes that the new one no longer permits."
His explanation left everyone deep in thought. As for me, I felt a spark of curiosity ignite inside.
When the bell rang signaling the end of recess, we all started packing up our things. I quickly approached Sunburst, who was already putting away his scrolls.
"Do you think I could see that book sometime?" I asked, hopeful.
Sunburst smiled slightly.
"It's in the library," he said. "If you want, I can tell you which section to look in."
"Yes, please!" I replied, almost bouncing in excitement.
As I returned to the classroom, I couldn't stop thinking about that ancient book. Something told me that, hidden among its dusty pages, I would find much more than just forgotten spells.
Intrigued by what Sunburst had said, I decided I couldn't wait. As soon as the final bell rang that day, I headed straight for the library. After a few minutes searching through the historical magic section, I finally found it: Fundamentals of Arcane Transformation. The book smelled of dust and ancient parchment, but I felt a thrill run through me as I cradled it in my hooves.
With the precious volume safely tucked into my bag, I ran home as fast as I could.
Once back in my room, I placed the book on my cluttered desk. The space was filled with little mementos: messy ink pots and quills, crumpled scrolls, rulers for measuring spellwork, and the infamous Demon Cube lazily spinning in one corner. On one of the higher shelves, the enchanted locket I had received when I earned my cutie mark rested, glowing faintly in the sunset light.
But today, my full attention was on the book.
I carefully opened it and quickly skimmed through the pages. I found ancient uses of transformation magic, many focused on survival: thickening the coat to resist cold, hardening the skin to withstand attacks, or modifying the hooves to climb difficult terrain. It was fascinating how ancient unicorns had perfected their magic to adapt to extreme situations.
However, something else immediately caught my attention.
Among the dusty pages, I found a section dedicated to unusual variants of the transformation spell. And there, written in slightly faded ink, was the Human-Biped Transformation Spell.
I stopped, surprised.
I already knew about that spell. I had read about it in a magic history book that explained how, during the war against the griffons, unicorns temporarily adapted their bodies to bipedal forms. That posture allowed them to handle weapons better, and use combat tools that would have been useless in a quadrupedal form.
Seeing the original formula there, tangible and real, was completely different from simply reading about it in a history book.
Excited, I carefully copied the formula onto a scroll, making sure not to miss a single symbol.
Even though my curiosity about this spell was overwhelming, I knew I had to stay focused. First, I needed to study the ancient basics of the standard transformation spell and compare them to the modernized version we had been given.
I immersed myself in the study, so absorbed that I didn't even notice the sun had nearly set.
A soft knock on the door made me jump.
"Everything okay in there?" my father asked, poking his head in. "You skipped your practice session today."
"Ah! Sorry, Dad..." I replied quickly, clearing some scrolls off my desk to make room. "I found this book and... well, I couldn't put it down."
Curious, my father walked in and glanced over the formulas I had copied. "I see you're not wasting any time," he said with a small, amused smile. Then, taking a fresh scroll, he effortlessly wrote down the modern version of the transformation spell.
"Do you know why it's so hard to find magic formulas?" he asked while writing.
I shook my head, paying close attention.
"Magic formulas are considered true treasures," he explained.
"Noble families take pride in preserving them, whether they developed them themselves or bought them from talented mages. Even though the royalty — especially Princess Celestia — tries to make magical knowledge available to those with talent, changing old traditions isn't easy."
He paused briefly, glancing sideways at the locket on my shelf.
"Star Swirl the Bearded came from a noble family. Thanks to the knowledge his family preserved, he was able to revolutionize magic. It was a tremendous advancement... but sadly, many nobles took the wrong lesson from it: hoarding knowledge instead of sharing it. They prefer to guard it as a symbol of status."
He sighed, a bit sadly.
"Sure, you can still find some formulas in old books like this," he continued, "but most of them are outdated versions. Modern formulas — more efficient, more stable — are much harder to come by. That's why Celestia's School is unique: it allows students free access to spells and magical runes... as long as they prove they deserve it."
I nodded slowly, letting his words sink into my mind like fresh ink on parchment.
It didn't surprise me too much. Knowledge, after all, had always been guarded by those in power, no matter the world or dimension.
Inspired by that truth, an idea lit up inside me.
I'm going to create my own grimoire, I thought. A book where I would gather every formula, spell, and secret I learn. Not just for myself, but for some future apprentice... or maybe even for a son.
I smiled to myself, imagining one day using the grimoire to instantly summon spells, or simply to leave behind a worthy legacy. I wondered how many spells I would find along the way, and how much I could learn. But first, I would need a book worthy of becoming my grimoire — not just any book. For now, though, I would settle for collecting every formula and spell I could.
Friday finally arrived, filling the school with an atmosphere of excitement and nervous giggles. Today, classes would last only half the usual time — it was a special holiday: the highly anticipated Terror Parade.
Parents, siblings, and any curious ponies were invited to witness the event, which promised a peculiar blend of magical chills and overwhelming cuteness.
When we arrived at class, everyone settled into their seats, buzzing excitedly about their planned transformations. That's when the door suddenly swung open — and Miss Maple entered.
A chorus of gasps echoed around the room.
Miss Maple had transformed herself into a Dullahan: a headless rider. Her armor, although sturdy and gleaming, was simple enough not to frighten the younger foals too much. Her head remained in place, though now it appeared ghostly and ethereal, while a soft mist curled from her neck and slipped through the gaps in her armor.
With a serene, slightly otherworldly tone, Miss Maple greeted us:
"Good morning, my little ones... today is our special day. I hope you're ready to show your best terrifying transformations!"
Throughout the class, Miss Maple moved from desk to desk, offering advice, correcting small magical mistakes, and giving words of encouragement where needed. The morning passed between nervous laughter and last-minute rehearsals until, much earlier than usual, the school bell rang — it was time.
With growing excitement, we followed her to the back courtyard, where the other classes were also gathering, each under the supervision of their respective teachers.
Once we were organized into neat lines, a magically amplified voice gave the signal:
"First years, step forward!"
With a burst of magical energy, all of us activated our terror spells. In an instant, the small foals transformed: some into black-winged batponies, others into floating ghosts, creeping shadows, or nightmare creatures.
I, too, cast my transformation spell, convinced I looked absolutely terrifying. However, without even realizing it, instead of a fearsome monster, I had turned into a small, fluffy ball of fur with tiny, timid fangs and ears that wiggled adorably.
And I wasn't the only one.
All the foals, without exception, ended up looking more adorable than terrifying. Their attempts to be monstrous — tiny growls, threatening poses, "evil" looks — only managed to draw gasps of affection from anyone watching.
Miss Maple observed from the sidelines, unable to hide a fond smile. In her mind, she mused:
"Trying to correct this would be a heresy against pure Cuteness itself."
So she allowed everyone to continue just as they were, letting the parade move forward in all its glorious and enchanting imperfection.
The older students also showed off their skills:
— Second years, projecting distorted shadows.
— Third years, summoning small dark creatures that circled around them.
— Fourth years, conjuring sinister smiles that crept out from their own shadows.
— And the upper grades, displaying far more complex transformations and illusions.
Willstone's POV
From where I stood at the front of the courtyard, I couldn't stop wagging my tail with excitement. The crowd of parents and family members around me buzzed with energy, all eager to see their little ones in action. I was no exception: I had arrived early to secure a good spot to see Wizbell the moment he appeared.
When the music started — a chilling, almost macabre melody — I felt a shiver run down my back. This was it.
The great doors of the school slowly creaked open, and after a few moments of theatrical silence, a wave of little creatures proudly marched out.
I leaned forward, barely containing a laugh. Every single foal looked more adorable than scary. Some tried to pose like fearsome monsters, baring fangs or furrowing brows, but their round faces, trembling ears, and carefully crafted costumes made them the most heart-melting sight imaginable.
Beside me, Alegría — my wife — bounced on her hooves like an excited filly.
"Look at them, Will! Look at him! They're sooo cute!" she squealed, pressing against me, her nose twitching with excitement. "I just want to run over and hug him right now!!"
I chuckled softly. I couldn't blame her. There was Wizbell, marching proudly at the head of his group, chest puffed out like a tiny general... And looking absolutely fluffy and huggable in the process.
The parents' cameras flashed like a magical thunderstorm. Every step, every little movement, was met with gasps, squeals, and calls of "Look how adorable!"
I even spotted two stallions getting into a heated argument, each insisting that their daughter was the "most adorably terrifying" foal of the parade, until their partners dragged them back with patient smiles.
I simply felt proud.
Not just for Wizbell — but for all of them. This whole new generation of little colts and fillies, trying with all their might to be terrifying, but instead winning all our hearts with their unstoppable sweetness.
The Terror Parade had been conquered — not by fear, but by the invincible power of Haunted Cuteness.
And honestly... I wouldn't have wanted it any other way.
As I checked the growing number of photos piling up in my hoof, a thought crossed my mind, and I couldn't help but grin.
I'm going to need a bigger album.
The one we had started for Wizbell — meant to hold the highlights of his school days and special moments — was already bursting at the seams after just a few months. Between his first day of school, his magic practice, his first cubical puzzle achievements, and now this parade... there was no way it would be enough.
And knowing Alegría, who never missed a chance to immortalize every smile, every awkward spell, every little triumph — well, we'd probably need an entire shelf just for his albums before the year was over.
Not that I minded. If anything, the thought filled me with warmth.
This... this was the kind of thing I had hoped for when we first dreamed about having a family. A thousand tiny memories stitched together into something bigger, something lasting.
I glanced at Wizbell again — his little nose scrunching up as he tried to look "menacing," his fluffy tail swishing behind him — and felt a swell of pride so fierce it almost hurt.
Yeah. Definitely a bigger album.
And maybe a bigger house, someday, if this trend kept up.