Classroom: Blue Meteorite
[Wizbell's POV]
"No, not this one… it doesn't work. It clashes with the tracking rune," I muttered, frowning as I stared at the scroll spread out on the table. Even though it was break time, I stayed in the classroom, immersed in my magical experiments. But I wasn't alone.
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Chapter 18 | Willpowah!
Classroom: Blue Meteorite
[Wizbell's POV]
"No, not this one… it doesn't work. It clashes with the tracking rune," I muttered, frowning as I stared at the scroll spread out on the table. Even though it was break time, I stayed in the classroom, immersed in my magical experiments. But I wasn't alone.
Twilight, sitting beside me, flipped through one of her endless tomes about Star Swirl the Bearded while idly playing with the demonic cube. Though she had the power to activate it, she didn't. She preferred to understand its logical mechanism before letting magic interfere. She wanted to solve it on her own, using only her mind. She said it helped her train her focus and develop the ability to split her attention across multiple tasks. Her level of discipline was admirable.
A little farther away, soft music echoed in the air. Lyra gently plucked the strings of her lyre, creating a serene atmosphere. She played almost absentmindedly, as if the music were part of her being—her way of meditating.
But that's not what matters right now.
My mind was focused on the design of the summoning spell. Or as I like to call it: ACCIO. The traditional runes were inefficient in the magical circuit. Some barely worked, as if by some miracle of harmony… or by the sheer force of will of whoever cast the spell. That was the real mystery.
Because it's not just about casting magic. It's not just a matter of energy or control. There's something more.
Willpower.
That intangible, powerful, inexplicable trait that some have forged like steel. I don't. I can't compare myself to someone who's lived on the edge of death, whose mental scars have given them an unbreakable will. My experiences are… mundane. Civilian. I haven't been tested in the crucible of despair, and my will, though firm, hasn't been forged by pain or loss.
And yet, will exists. It's not the same as magical control, although in certain moments their functions overlap. According to some books, it manifests during tension, in times of crisis, when all seems lost. It's in those moments that truly powerful mages can achieve the impossible.
For example: let's say I want to summon water. But I don't have enough control to complete the magical circle. If my will has been tempered by adversity, if I've found a strong enough purpose or ideal… it's possible I could cast the spell anyway. Not by technique, but by inner strength.
Because will takes the place of intent. And intent is one of the fundamental pillars of making magic work. To cast a spell, you need: magical energy, knowledge of the spell, magical control… and of course, intent.
Intent isn't a conscious step. It's a mental, emotional reflex. It's trust, it's direction. Without clear intent, magic fails. Because magic without intent has no purpose. And without purpose, there is no form or direction.
And intent is shaped by emotion, ideals… and once again, by willpower. The stronger the emotion, the clearer and more powerful the intent. And when that intent aligns perfectly with a genuine desire, it can even draw ambient magic. In those strange, almost miraculous moments, a simple spell can become something formidable.
I close my eyes and try again.
I visualize the diagram of the magical circuit of the spell. I form the circle in my mind, tracing its boundaries with almost instinctive precision. Slowly, I begin to fill it with the formulas it contains and the runes I decided to modify. But as it starts to take shape, a strange feeling creeps in from some hidden corner of my subconscious.
—It won't work…
The voice isn't mine, but it isn't foreign either. It's that persistent thought, disguised as reason, that appears when I most need to believe in myself.
"Gah!" I exclaimed, frustrated, letting the quill fall onto the scroll with a sharp thud. "I don't get it…"
I leaned back in the chair, resigned. Most of the formulas were unknown, even advanced for my level. I didn't understand their constants, and the old-style writing didn't help at all. The lines were riddled with arcane abbreviations, unstable variables, and theoretical magic that seemed to belong to another era.
"You should ask an adult," Twilight suggested neutrally, not taking her eyes off the cube between her hooves. "That's not simple magic—it's a quasi-four-line spell."
She rotated one face of the cube with a soft click, as if the difficulty of the spell were as obvious as the wrong position of a color tile.
I didn't get to reply. The classroom door opened quietly, and Miss Maple walked in silently. Her steps were calm, her expression kind, almost motherly, but with that sort of authority that doesn't need to raise its voice to be felt.
"I see some students don't know when it's recess," she said with a slight smile as she approached our table. "Though… I'm glad to see curiosity never rests."
I straightened immediately, tense as if I'd been caught in mischief. Twilight held her book and the cube more firmly, and Lyra—who had been sitting sideways in a very relaxed pose—quickly adjusted herself, as if she had just remembered she had a spine.
"Sorry, Professor," I said quickly. "I was just trying to understand why the summoning spell is so unstable…"
She didn't respond immediately. She looked at the scroll, then into my eyes. For a few seconds, she said nothing. Just nodded softly.
"That spell," she began calmly, "is an ancient gem, from when magic was more art than science. Don't feel bad if you don't fully understand it yet. Many adults can't either."
I frowned.
"But then… how do they make it work?"
Miss Maple gave a subtle, almost enigmatic smile.
"Not everyone does. And those who do… don't rely solely on technique. That kind of magic responds to both structure and emotion. It's a bridge between what you know… and what you feel," Miss Maple said, then frowned slightly as she moved closer to the scroll. "Although, from what I see… some runes are mixed up."
She leaned gently over the table.
"I know almost every rune there is," she added with a touch of subtle pride. "It's my passion… and my favorite pastime. But these…" —she pointed to a specific group— "these look misinterpreted, like someone transcribed them after seeing the original design… from afar, then tried to recreate it from memory. Look at this."
She took a quill and began clearly annotating the scroll's margin. She pointed precisely to each altered symbol, and next to them wrote their most likely equivalents.
"I'll leave the rest to you," she said, looking up with a warm smile. "Figuring out the exact function of these runes will be a good exercise. As for the formulas… honestly, I don't think you've learned them yet. Some are advanced, from old research circles."
She stood up and put the quill away.
"You'd need to visit a specialized field—a Magical Research Lab. Or find a pony who can guide you through them. Someone experienced in classical arcanism." She paused, thoughtful. "Although now that I think of it… I take that back."
She turned and looked directly at me, and for a moment her eyes sparkled with a flicker of complicity.
"Just ask Princess Celestia directly when you meet her. You're her apprentice, aren't you?"
I nodded, slightly nervous, swallowing hard.
"Take advantage of your situation, Wizbell. If you really want to learn everything about magic, do something useful with that privilege. Bring her a book full of questions. All the doubts that haunt you, all the mysteries you find. Write them down. Start now."
She turned to Twilight, who had stopped the cube completely in her hooves, listening attentively.
"That's advice from one magic fanatic… to two other magic fanatics. That includes you too, Twilight."
Twilight didn't reply immediately. She simply looked down at the cube, and a faint smile appeared on her lips.
Miss Maple headed toward the door, but before crossing it, she turned once more.
"Magic is a conversation, kids. A long, beautiful conversation between mind, emotion, and world. And the best mages… are the ones who ask good questions. Let me know if you find out which runes were the right ones!"
And with that, she left the classroom, leaving us with our thoughts, our doubts… and a scroll full of possibilities.
"A bit intense," Lyra murmured with a giggle, strumming a soft chord on her lyre, as if to disperse the serious air that had filled the room.
The atmosphere was so charged with focus and revelations that her comment felt like a breath of fresh air.
"Let's go outside and clear our heads!" she suddenly exclaimed, standing up with contagious energy.
Before we could protest, she grabbed Twilight's hoof and mine, and practically dragged us out of the classroom. We barely had time to grab our things as we ran down the hallway, trying to keep up with her.
"Lyra, wait!" Twilight shouted through laughter. "I haven't finished my mental note!!"
"Exactly! That's why you need fresh air," Lyra replied without looking back.
We ran through the school's sunlit corridors, our hooves echoing joyfully on the marble. For a moment, all the formulas, confusing runes, and magical theories dissolved like mist under the sun.
There was no reason to burn out my mind—I'm still a colt. Time is on my side, and I can't forget the meeting I'll have with Princess Celestia. Once I meet her, I'll finally be able to clear up all the doubts clouding my mind about certain magical topics.
"Mom, I'm home!" I shouted from the entrance, dropping my bag in the hallway. The echo of my hooves filled the quiet, pastry-scented house, making me feel at ease—at home.
Still, before going to say hi, I pulled out my homework. Even though I'd gotten a lot done during class with Twilight and Lyra (secretly copying from us), I still had a few exercises left. Nothing hard… just tedious, like writing a page of the focus rune or similar stuff.
My parents greeted me with a smile. Dad peeked in from the dining room with his usual calm energy.
"Ready to move those muscles, champ?"
I nodded without protest. The workout routine, which used to be a punishment, had turned into a pleasant habit. It was our time of day, when we spoke little but shared a lot.
We finished with one last synchronized push-up, we bumped fists and shared a grin, and then I went straight to help Mom set the table. She offered me the plates with a smile, and I carefully placed them next to the glasses and cutlery—all without using magic. It had become a ritual.
"How was school, sweetheart?" she asked as she placed the napkins. "Any magical explosions this time?"
"No… but I almost burned through a scroll from all the writing," I replied, laughing.
As we sat down and started serving food, a topic that had been floating more and more frequently in our family air came up: the name of the baby on the way.
"I still can't decide," Mom said, taking a spoonful of soup. "It's like… I don't know it, but at the same time, I've always known. Isn't that weird?"
Dad raised an eyebrow with a chuckle.
"Here we go again—'Harmony whispers names to you in your dreams.'"
"Well, yeah!" she replied with a light laugh. "And it's always the same names. Like she's insisting on one. Or two."
"And what are those names?" I asked curiously, setting my fork aside.
Mom rested her elbow on the table and gave me one of those smiles that say she knows something you don't.
"That's part of the surprise. But I'll tell you this: all the names start with B, and only one is in my native tongue," she said with an enigmatic grin.
I went quiet for a moment, processing the clue. Was it just coincidence… or was Harmony really whispering those names from some unseen corner of the universe?
I'd long noticed how curious pony names were. Many seemed to relate directly to their life purpose—or at least a core trait of their character or lifestyle. Sometimes it felt like the name wasn't chosen… but revealed. Now that I think about it, mine's also a pretty peculiar combination.
Wiz. From wizard.
Bell. As in a bell… That last part used to puzzle me. I never really understood what it had to do with who I am. But now, with everything I've discovered about my magical trait—that serenity I radiate… just like the calm echo of a ringing bell…
Too much of a coincidence.
What if it wasn't a coincidence at all? What if I was meant to come into this world from the very beginning? What if my arrival wasn't luck… but something carved in stone?
"Wizbell… honey, what's wrong?" Mom's voice pulled me from my thoughts. Her hoof gently touched my cheek, guiding me to look at her. Her eyes radiated that quiet love only a mother can give, and somehow, her tenderness swept away the dark thoughts that had started to creep into my mind.
They were thoughts I'd been avoiding for a long time… intrusive ideas about my origin, my place here, whether I really belonged.
"Nothing important, Mom…" I replied with a soft smile. "It's just that… destiny is really mysterious, and it works in strange ways."
"You have no idea, champ… no idea at all," my father added, patting my shoulder and ruffling my mane with a gesture that anchored me back to the present.
And just like that, everything felt normal again.
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