I delivered the letter without drama, floating the envelope with my magic and letting it drop onto Mayor Mare's perfectly organized desk.
She picked it up carefully, opened it with practiced ease… and the moment she finished reading, her expression lit up like she'd just received an anonymous donation to rebuild the entire school from scratch.
"Oh, wonderful! I knew you would accept, young Wizbell!" she exclaimed with a smile so wide it made me slightly uncomfortable.
I nodded with a brief gesture. I had expected some formality—maybe a preliminary meeting, an inspection of the facilities, a detailed itinerary. Something. But no.
"So when would I start?" I asked neutrally, just to confirm there was a reasonable gap between this conversation and the actual start of my voluntary educational sentence.
The mayor glanced at something on her desk, murmured "today is Wednesday," then looked up again with contagious energy.
"Today."
I blinked.
"Excuse me?"
"Right now! The foals are at recess! You can go to the school, introduce yourself to Miss Cheerilee, and start with a small introduction. Something light, nothing too formal." She waved a hoof dismissively like it was no big deal, tapping the floor cheerfully.
The word light held no meaning coming from a mayor with three open planners and a pen holder organized by emotion-linked ink colors.
"There was no actual prior planning, was there?"
"Of course there was!" she replied with that professional smile of someone expertly winging it. "We planned that you'd decide, and that you'd do well."
"That's not planning. That's faith. Or cheating."
"Trust," she corrected, giving me a quick pat on the back. "And the foals are very excited. The rumor about a new magic teacher has already spread, by the way."
I sighed with a politely restrained sense of resignation. Technically, I wasn't being tossed into a pit of magic hydras without a rope… but it felt similar.
"So… I just go now?"
"Yes, yes! Follow this path, and at the end you'll see the school. Miss Cheerilee is expecting you. Just say your name and everything will flow."
Flow. Always a dangerous word.
I adjusted my sweater with an automatic gesture and left the office with the same composure one takes into a duel: calm, focused… and slightly uneasy with the certainty that something was going to go wrong before noon.
———————————————————————————————————————
I stood in silence for a few seconds, staring at the school's façade with a tinge of hesitation. Not fear, exactly, but a mix of discomfort and resignation. I had agreed to this. Voluntarily. And now I was here.
I walked to the main door, feeling the crunch of gravel under my hooves. No adult presence nearby. Only the sounds of childhood on the other side of the building: high-pitched voices, laughter, the occasional shriek.
I knocked with a soft magical tap. Not because I thought it was necessary, but out of courtesy.
"One moment!" came a female voice from inside. I recognized the energy in her tone: kind, patient… with that hint of someone used to dealing with endless questions from curious little ponies.
The door opened shortly after, revealing a light fuchsia mare with a pink-and-white mane styled in soft waves. She wore a yellow flower on her ear and held a piece of chalk in her hoof.
"Can I help you…?" she began, until her eyes landed on me.
My presence seemed to throw her off for a second. Then she noticed the official seal on the scroll still floating beside me.
"You're… Wizbell?" she asked, with a mix of surprise and moderate excitement.
I gave a small nod. "The mayor told me to check in with you. I've been appointed as a magic tutor."
For a moment, I thought she might say there had been some mistake.
But instead, her face lit up with a genuinely warm smile.
"Oh, of course! I got the letter, but I didn't expect things to move so quickly. Please, come in. The foals are at recess, so it's a good time to show you how we work around here."
I stepped inside. The interior was cozy, filled with colorful decorations and chalkboards covered in drawings. On a shelf, there were cardboard cutouts of stars, moons, and rainbows. The place radiated warmth, and for a moment I felt out of place… but not unwelcome.
"You can use this desk," she said, pointing to a spot beside hers, slightly taller than the students' desks. "We don't usually have support teachers, but you're welcome to observe or take the lead—whichever suits you best."
"How advanced are they in magic?" I asked, more out of habit than politeness.
She chuckled gently.
"They're primary-level foals, Wizbell. Some can barely make their horns glow without sneezing sparks. But they all have something special. They just need guidance."
I fell silent for a moment.
So… this is where I'll teach?
I looked around the classroom more carefully. It was clearly designed for a single group class. No real space to divide students or conduct parallel lessons without disrupting the flow of the main one.
No second room, no lab, not even a proper study nook.
Even so…
If it's not there, I can make it.
I've improvised with less. And teaching doesn't require much when you know how to hold attention and turn the simple into something profound.
"Is there any extra space where I could work with a few students at a time?" I asked neutrally.
Cheerilee thought for a second, tilting her head.
"We could use the outdoor area when the weather allows. There's nice shade under the oak tree, and the foals tend to focus better outside. We could also adjust the schedule so you teach in small shifts if you prefer something more personalized."
"Well… I think I can make something work," I murmured, glancing around the surroundings. My eyes landed on the right side of the building. The terrain was flat, the ground solid, with enough space between the shrubs and the wooden fence.
"So there's no problem if I set something up beside the building, right?"
Cheerilee blinked, slightly confused.
"Set something up… how?"
"A space to work separately. Nothing permanent. Just something functional."
She hesitated for a second, then smiled, slightly amused.
"As long as you don't scare the foals… or blow anything up."
"I make no promises about the second part," I replied with absolute neutrality.
She laughed.
"Then yes. Go ahead."
"Well then… let's get to work."
I left her to keep watch over the foals playing in the garden, just past the building's far side. Some of them glanced at me with curiosity from a distance, and like a ripple, their attention gradually spread among the others as I walked past. I didn't say a word. I simply walked, focused, feeling the ground with my magic.
I was visualizing how to construct an improvised classroom. Not something I did often—but this time, it was necessary.
I connected my magic to the subsoil. Brushed against mineral veins, sensed the appropriate density, and focused my energy. I had to use just the right amount of earth magic to extract a solid, usable block of stone.
The ground cracked softly, and a mass of rock began to rise slowly from the earth, shaped by my spell.
A chorus of surprised gasps came from the foals. Some stepped up to the edge of the fence to get a better look. It wasn't a common sight for them. And to be honest, it wasn't common for me either.
Carefully, I began shaping the stone using basic structural magic, carving angles, smoothing edges. I wasn't aiming for beauty—just functionality: a space to teach without interruptions, without distractions, and with the order I required.
My little classroom was taking shape.
First, I laid tiles made from the same stone, altering their color with a light spell until they turned a pale gray, decorated with interlocking square and rectangle patterns to give it a clean, practical feel. Then I raised two walls and a roof supported by a single central column, leaving the other two sides open. I didn't bother adding doors or windows; the open design made them unnecessary.
For safety—and admittedly, aesthetics—I reinforced the entire structure with layered enchantments. The runes formed quickly, traced by my magic with the same ease others breathe. I imprinted them on every surface, rendering the structure immovable: the roof would never collapse on the foals, and if it somehow did, it would weigh no more than a cloud… yet remain as hard as steel against any impact.
The leftover chunks of stone I transmuted into desks, sealing their form with a permanence spell. One by one, they took shape and arranged themselves inside the small classroom.
Finally, I sealed the open sides beneath the roof with a thin magical barrier. It wouldn't let in wind, rain, or anything that could interrupt a lesson. It was a silent wall—visible only to me, and under my control.
I kept enchanting the classroom to make it suitable. I added a soft current to keep the air fresh, a breeze barely noticeable that circulated without stirring up dust. Then I placed several magic nodes at key points: some to absorb ambient energy and power the enchantments independently, others designed to catch stray magical surges. I knew from experience that foals rarely measured what they channeled.
I was focused on tracing the final line of a stabilization seal when I heard a voice behind me.
"Sir, what is that for?"
I turned slightly. A filly with a curly mane stood just outside the classroom's edge, wide-eyed and tilting her head like she was trying to make sense of what she was seeing.
It took me a second to remember that, for most ponies, even the simplest of my work could seem extraordinary.
There was only pure curiosity in her gaze as she watched the lingering magical particles still drifting in the air, falling like slow stars from the enchanted ceiling. The concentrated magic I had used left a soft, glowing trail, as if the space itself were breathing light.
"Well, little one," I said calmly, turning fully toward her. "This will be my classroom. From now on, I'll be teaching here."
She stepped a little closer, still staring at the softly flickering runes along the walls' edges.
"Go on," I invited with a small gesture. "Take a step inside. You'll be surprised."
She glanced at me, confused.
What could be special about simply stepping forward?
After all, she'd already seen the impressive part: how I built the classroom in seconds with magic that carved stone, shaped desks, and made runes float like obedient fireflies. That was the truly amazing part to her.
Still, she nodded and stepped forward.
And then she felt it.
The distant chatter of her friends, the shouting from recess, the laughter—it all softened naturally, as if she had crossed a curtain of silence. Inside, the air was cooler. A gentle breeze wrapped around her without moving her mane, as if the room itself were breathing with her.
She opened her eyes, surprised, and took another step. The look on her face said it all.
A moment later, I heard soft hoofsteps approaching. Cheerilee stopped just at the edge of the new classroom, mouth slightly ajar, caught between being impressed or worried.
"Well…" she said at last, with an incredulous smile, "when you asked if you could use this side of the building… I didn't think you'd do this... in seconds."
I shrugged, calm as ever.
"Seemed like the most efficient solution."
She let out a short laugh, still taking in the enchanted details—the gently glowing runes, the perfectly aligned desks.
"You're definitely not a regular teacher."
She stepped forward too, cautiously crossing the boundary of the new room, and paused just under the enchanted roof. She lifted a hoof into the air as if she could feel the coolness directly. Her ears perked up at the shift in temperature, and for a few seconds, she simply looked around: the polished tiles, the open walls, the faint glow of the runes, the quietly enchanted desks.
"This is… incredible," she murmured. Then she turned to me, amused and a little hopeful.
"You know… now that I think about it… could you do the same thing for the main building? This heat makes class a bit unbearable—especially after noon."
I looked at her in silence for a moment, as if weighing her request with the seriousness of a high-risk arcane operation. Then I nodded, without ceremony.
"Yes. Though I'll need to go inside for a bit. And some focus."
Her eyes lit up like I'd just told her I could turn the classroom into a floating cloud.
"Please! You have no idea how grateful we'd be."
It didn't take long. Just a few seconds later, the foals began to return from recess, running toward the school. Some stopped in their tracks as they crossed the threshold of the new classroom, stunned by the shift in environment. Others simply dove in without hesitation, weaving between desks, playing hide and seek, or flopping down on the cool floor with sighs of relief.
Even the most restless foals decided to stay. The space was wide, pleasant, and just different enough to feel like a small magical refuge made just for them.
Meanwhile, I headed toward the main building. I had one last favor to fulfill.
I activated my magic calmly, letting it spread like a faint mist of light. I began adjusting the internal currents, redirecting the temperature flow, placing thermal balance and dispersion nodes in the most charged points. It wasn't difficult… just required precision.
I felt a small presence following me—soft, steady steps.
It was a unicorn filly with cream-colored fur and curly honey-streaked mane. She had a quiet look of wonder on her face, and her eyes sparkled with honest curiosity.
I didn't mind. She was calm.
"How do you do that?" she asked in a low voice, as if afraid of interrupting a delicate spell.
"I understand how the building breathes," I answered without stopping my work. "I'm just helping it cool its breath."
She tilted her head, fascinated.
"I'm Sweetie Belle… and I want to learn that someday."
I gave her a brief sidelong glance while continuing to trace runes along the window frames with my magic.
"Then listen closely in class. Not every spell is cast with power... some are cast with intent."
Sweetie Belle stayed quiet for a few moments, watching how the spells carved themselves with near-automatic precision into the wood. Then she gave a small hop to walk a bit closer to me.
"And what does it feel like? Is it hard or… does it feel nice?"
"It's like building something with the tips of your soul. If you do it right, it doesn't hurt, it doesn't tire you… it just flows, and you feel fulfilled."
"Like the magic knows what you want?"
"Exactly. Like it's speaking to you… without words."
She blinked, not fully understanding, but that didn't stop her rain of questions.
"Did you invent it? Or learn it from some weird book? Where did you study magic like that? What's the name of that school?"
"I didn't learn it from a school," I said, adjusting a node high on the wall. "This kind of magic… I developed it because I had to. There were no instructions. Just need… and patience."
"So you created it? All of it?"
"Not all. But the way I use it, yes. That part is mine."
Her eyes widened.
"Wow…! And is it hard?"
"Yes," I admitted plainly. "It requires understanding, not just memorizing. Repeating spells isn't enough. You need to understand what they do, and why."
Sweetie fell into thoughtful silence, then looked up at me with a more mischievous expression.
"And doesn't your horn itch from using too much magic? Sometimes when I try to make mine glow, it feels all tingly and weird."
I paused for a moment and, for the first time, looked directly at her.
"Yes. When you're young, magic sometimes scrapes from the inside. Like your horn hasn't figured out how to let it out yet. But over time… that changes."
She smiled, calmly.
"Then I'll keep practicing."
"Do that," I said. "But don't rush. Magic doesn't run away. It's always there… waiting."
She nodded, but her eyes asked for more. So I added, in a quiet voice:
"The more you use magic, the easier it becomes. For some… the path is clear from the start. Everything flows, everything responds effortlessly."
"But others… they're not so lucky. Magic resists. Spells fail, or nothing happens at all. I knew someone like that. He struggled even with the basics… like his magic wanted to hide."
Sweetie Belle frowned with empathy.
"And what did he do?"
"He kept going. At his own pace. He was never the fastest or the most precise… but he learned. With effort, with consistency. And that took him far. Sometimes going slow isn't a mistake… it's just another path. One that can lead you to places no one else can reach."
She fell silent again. Her eyes shimmered with a mix of understanding and determination.
"So… even if I mess up sometimes… I can still do real magic?"
"Of course. What matters isn't how many times you fail… it's that you keep trying."
"And what if I take a long time?"
"Then you'll arrive later. But you'll still arrive."
Sweetie Belle lowered her gaze. She moved her hoof slightly over the floor, tracing slow circles.
"...Even if I can't do telekinesis yet," she murmured.
I restrained any reaction. I didn't let my expression show empathy or hollow comfort. I simply nodded, seriously.
"Even if all you manage now is a little sparkle… if you don't give up, the magic will eventually listen to you."
I paused. My voice grew a little firmer.
"But if you just wait… you'll take the slowest, heaviest road. If you want a real change, one that's worth it, you have to go after it. Chase it. Magic doesn't respond to passive patience… but to will in motion."
She looked up at me. She didn't say anything, but she didn't seem sad anymore. Just resolute.
"How strong is your will?" she asked, not fully understanding what that word meant.
"I could move mountains with my will alone, little one," I answered with a calm smile. "My desire to use magic is that big… and it always has been."
"That's probably why you're so good at it. You really love magic, huh?" she asked eagerly, eyes sparkling with genuine curiosity.
"I love magic," I said without hesitation. "And I live to understand it."
"Want to see a magic trick?" I asked, leaning down slightly with a conspiratorial smile.
Sweetie Belle nodded so fast her horn almost fell off.
"Yes!" she exclaimed, hopping in place.
"Good. Focus on this light first."
I summoned a small glowing orb between us, suspended in the air with a gentle, sky-blue pulse.
Then, with a second spell, I absorbed all the light coming through the building's windows. Everything was bathed in a soft, tranquil darkness—quiet, almost magical.
And that's when the real show began.
Around the central orb, still glowing in soft blues and silvers, floating stars began to emerge—constellations, ethereal swirls, and dancing nebulas. Each moved to a silent melody, spinning and crossing paths like the whole universe was breathing between us.
Sweetie Belle looked up, speechless, her eyes reflecting every star as if they lived inside her.
It was just a magic trick… but for her, it was like touching the sky.
"This was my very first spell," I said softly, as the stars circled gently around us. "The one that made me fall in love with everything magic can be."
I looked into her eyes as the central sphere gave off a soft pulse, sending a calming wave through the room.
"I called it [Lullaby of Stars]."
Sweetie Belle didn't even blink. She was completely immersed, as if floating among the stars. She whispered:
"It's… beautiful."
"Magic is mystical," I said, as the stars spun in silence. "And with it… you can create beautiful wonders like this—or simple, useful things."
She kept watching, awestruck, not daring to blink.
"Maybe one day, you'll bring your own star into the world, with your own magic."
I turned to her with a calm smile. "Not yet… but someday. It's a mystery only you can uncover."
With a soft magical sigh, I let the outside light return.
The darkness faded. The nebulas unraveled like dream-dust, and the pale blue sphere dimmed slowly, taking with it the universe's calm.
She remained there, still, lost in thought.
Then she looked up at me with a serene, glowing expression.
She gave me a sweet smile.
"Thank you."
Once the light fully returned and the magic faded, I walked to the front of the building and opened the door. Outside, Miss Cheerilee was still watching over the foals as they played in the sun.
"Well… it's done," I said from the threshold. "How much time is left before recess ends?"
"Not much, really," she replied while glancing at the foals. "Maybe ten minutes… let me check the clock."
She turned briefly toward the wall-mounted clock outside, tilting an ear as if mentally confirming the time.
"Yes, about ten. Though…" she added with a resigned smile, "I get the feeling not many of them will want to come back inside after seeing what you did in there."
She then stepped toward the doorway and entered the main building for a moment. The moment she crossed the threshold, her eyes widened slightly, surprised by how fresh and light the air felt. She took a couple steps, inhaled deeply, and smiled sincerely.
"Thank you, Wizbell. This really helps. The heat was starting to get unbearable."
"It's nothing," I replied with a shrug. "I'll stay out here and watch the foals until recess ends."
She nodded and stepped back inside. I barely settled under the shade when an orange blur skidded to a stop in front of me.
"That was amazing!" Scootaloo shouted, wings flared with excitement. "You lifted that huge rock like it was made of clouds and split it like it was butter!"
"What are you doing here?" she asked, tilting her head with curiosity.
Before I could answer, several other little voices joined in, repeating the same question with growing enthusiasm. In a matter of seconds, I was surrounded by a small group of fillies, all equally curious, eyes wide and ears perked as if each one was waiting for a magical story made just for her.
"Well…" I said while calmly adjusting my sweater, "from now on, I'll be your new magic teacher."
There was a small moment of silence.
"You're going to teach us magic?!" one of the fillies squealed—and immediately, other voices followed.
"Can I learn too?!"
"But I don't have a horn!"
"Can you teach pegasus magic too?!"
The excitement became contagious. Nearly all of them lit up at once, like they had just discovered they were going to live inside a magical adventure.
The small group crowded closer, surrounding me with expectant smiles, eyes shining from what they had just witnessed.
"Sorry, but… I can only teach unicorn magic," I explained in a calm tone, trying not to crush their excitement too much. "I don't know how the other kinds of magic work. I sort of understand what they do, but I couldn't teach you, for example, how to grow plants with your emotions… or how to listen to nature… or how to pull off a sonic boom like Rainbow Dash."
At that last part, I noticed Scootaloo's wings droop slightly. Her expression shifted—not into deep sadness, but clear disappointment.
"Your parents or someone you know might be better at explaining that than me," I continued, voice calm but firm. "Or even your teacher. So if you know someone who's good at what you're curious about… don't hesitate to ask."
I took a moment to meet each of their eyes, making sure they understood.
"There's no such thing as a bad question," I added with a small smile. "Especially not from you girls, who are just beginning to discover the world."
They nodded silently, processing my words with that momentary seriousness only foals can manage. But it didn't last long.
The second they realized I had nothing else to add, the silence shattered—and I was under siege again.
"How are you so good at magic?"
"Why do you wear clothes?"
"Why a sweater?"
"Do you have a special somepony?"
"Miss Cheerilee's single!" one filly yelled from the back, triggering a wave of nervous giggles.
I internally rolled my eyes. This was exactly the kind of social chaos I'd imagined when I accepted the job… and yet, it was still overwhelming.
"Your mane is really soft and… it smells like oranges!"
"Let me smell it too!"
"Move over!"
"Professor, can I braid your hair?! I'll put flowers in it!"
I took half a step back, caught between hooves, giggles, and voices tumbling over one another, with no sign of the stampede stopping.
"Yah! Girls, calm down! Calm—!" I tried to say, raising my voice, though it didn't help much.
Then, like a blessing from above, came the sharp pull of a rope and the familiar clang of the bell.
"Everyone gather up!" Miss Cheerilee called firmly from the building's entrance. "Class is starting again!"
The fillies scattered immediately—though not without tossing a last round of giggles and curious glances in my direction as they returned to their spots.
*Sigh*
I survived… for now.