School of terror

The event at the school continued with more laughter than scares as we walked around the main square. The afternoon light was beginning to tint the sky in shades of orange, and every step we took was followed by a small chorus of murmurs. Foals younger than us watched with awe, their eyes shining with excitement. Some adults, wearing warm smiles, took the opportunity to snap souvenir photos.

"Look, Mom! Those are the big kids who did the tricks!" a little filly squealed, pointing at us with her hoof.

I could barely hold back the nervous smile threatening to get out of control. I didn't know whether to feel embarrassed or proud. In the end, I just lowered my head slightly, trying to look more serious... which, judging by the giggles around me, only made me look even more adorable.

The walk continued normally, though leading everyone felt... strange. Why me? Was it because I was the smallest colt in the group? My father walked a little behind, watching me with a mixture of pride and amusement. There was no doubt: this was an honor... even if it hadn't been exactly voluntary.

When we returned to the school building, a buzz of excitement greeted us. The teachers had prepared another event: a courage game.

The school had been transformed into a haunted place, with dim lights, hallways full of fake cobwebs, and spooky decorations. We foals would be the "monsters," hiding to scare the visitors.

As I guided everyone back, a sparkling energy filled the air.

"Remember, kids! No pushing or running too fast!" Miss Maple called out, her voice sweet but firm.

Once inside, it was like releasing a flock of bats. Everyone ran in different directions, looking for the perfect hiding spot. From my perspective, the shadows were my best allies. They always had been.

Since I was little... or rather, since another life, I had felt that making noise while walking was unnecessary. A waste of attention. Now, those skills seemed tailor-made for this game: moving stealthily through dark classrooms, hidden behind decorations or forgotten corners. My goal was simple: to strike with a whisper, a "Boo!" to whoever dared cross the long haunted hallways of the School of Terror.

The teachers had really gone all out. Some hallways had simple floating ghost illusions; others had sound effects making the floor creak or distant voices whisper.

"This place is scary!" a little colt squealed as he ran past, dodging a ghostly paper curtain.

I chuckled softly, lurking among the shadows.

I wasn't alone.

"Pssst! Wizbell, over here," Lyra whispered, sliding next to me with a grin that mirrored my own mischievous excitement.

"Ready to wreak havoc?" I whispered.

"Am I ever not?" she replied.

Twilight tried to join us at first. With a furrowed brow of concentration, she jumped out from behind a screen with a "Boo!" that sounded more like a question than a threat.

"Uh... Boo?"

The only one who got scared was a very nervous pony who tripped over himself. Lyra and I exchanged a resigned look... but we didn't leave her alone.

"Come on, Twilight, stay close," I said, smiling and giving her a little encouraging pat on the shoulder.

So, every time we managed to scare someone, we returned to her side, helping her enjoy the fun too.

Our style as a team was simple but effective. Lyra used her wit to make strange noises, discreetly tapping decorations or blowing over strings to make them creak.

"Ooooooh!" she moaned, pretending to be a ghost.

While the visitors were distracted, I took advantage of their blind spots: appearing out of nowhere, from behind a curtain fold or under a table, whispering chillingly:

"Now I've got you..." or "Shall we play?"

Most visitors screamed and ran. Some tried to fake bravery... without much success.

The best reaction was from a teenage pony who was so scared he froze in place. Lyra and I could barely hold back our laughter.

Among the decorated hallways, Miss Sunny —wearing a modest but elegant costume, like a sorceress from ancient times— kept walking among the groups. Her serene smile never faded.

"Everything okay, little brave ones?" she asked occasionally, calming the more frightened ones with her mere presence.

It was clear she was keeping an eye on things, but without intervening too much, letting the foals feel like the masters of the game. After a while, she discreetly withdrew, maybe to check other hallways... or maybe because she trusted we could handle it on our own.

Meanwhile, I returned to the shadows, Lyra at my side, waiting for our next "victim."

The true spirit of the School of Terror had been born. And we were its invisible guardians.

Hours later, we foals were sprawled out in the school's backyard, surrounded by blankets, candy, and scattered costumes. The sky, now a mix of deep oranges and purples, was a reminder that the night was just beginning. Some of us were still in costume; others had tossed aside the most uncomfortable accessories, enjoying a well-deserved rest in the company of our parents, siblings, or friends.

Laughter filled the air as we recalled the most memorable scares from the School of Terror.

"I still can't believe Twilight scared that big unicorn!" Lyra said, choking on laughter as she held a lollipop between her hooves. "She just jumped with her eyes shut and said 'Boo'!"

"Hey!" Twilight protested, puffing her cheeks while clutching a chocolate cupcake from her spot between her parents.

The general laughter soon exploded. The mental image replayed in my head, and I couldn't help laughing too, covering my mouth to keep from choking on candy.

That's when we saw Sunburst approach, walking quickly, his eyes shining with excitement. I hadn't seen him during the parade —being at the front had blocked my view— but something told me he had been planning something special.

"Alright, everyone, watch this!" he announced, standing proudly before us.

Instantly, his body began to turn translucent, blurred by a faint blue glow. A murmur of amazement rippled through the group. Then, his shadow stretched beneath us, taking on elongated shapes, almost like tentacles trying to catch us. As a final touch, he summoned a cloud of tattered-wing butterflies, floating and leaving behind a spiral trail of purple magic.

The applause came immediately.

"That was amazing!" a colt shouted.

"They looked like real butterflies!" a pegasus filly exclaimed, fluttering excitedly.

"And the shadow! It looked alive!" added another.

Sunburst beamed with pride. And no wonder: he had pulled off the three most complicated spells of Nightmare Night, each harder than the last. I knew it had taken him countless hours of practice... and now he could finally show it to the world.

As we continued cheering and commenting, Miss Maple's firm but warm voice called from the center of the yard:

"Class, gather around, please. Great work today! As a special reward, I'm going to teach you something very fun..."

The news hit us like a bolt of excitement. We jumped to our hooves, stumbling over blankets, hooves, cardboard wings, and even over each other. A couple of foals rolled across the grass laughing, while others, like me, ran to gather around Miss Maple, eyes sparkling with curiosity.

We sat in a semicircle, expectant.

Miss Maple closed her eyes in concentration. A magic circle began to spin over her horn, pulsing gently with bluish light. Without warning, her body changed shape: she became spectral, floating just a few centimeters above the ground, with an ethereal appearance.

A murmur of awe ran through us.

Then, she repeated the spell, this time pointing the magic circle at a nearby filly. The little filly squealed excitedly as her body was wrapped in golden bandages, transforming into a little living mummy.

Miss Maple, with the voice of someone sharing an ancient secret, explained:

"This transformation spell responds to the closest magical affinity at the point of invocation. If you cast it on your own horn, the transformation will fall on yourself. But if you project the circle toward another nearby body, that being will receive the change, since their magic signature becomes the main target."

Some of us frowned, trying to follow the explanation. Others simply nodded, already familiar with Miss Maple's always technical style.

"It's like summoning fire," she added. "You don't do it on your forehead, but where you want it to appear. Simple logic, though we sometimes forget the obvious."

As her words sank in, a filly with a mischievous smile couldn't hold back. She glanced at her mummified friend, and suddenly, her horn gleamed.

"The ghosts will take over the school!!!" she shouted.

And she cast a transformation spell on another unsuspecting foal.

Chaos broke out. Within seconds, the yard turned into a carnival of transformations: translucent ghosts floated, batponies fluttered with membranous wings, and foals wrapped in shadows became little nightmares.

Everyone cast spells on each other amid laughter, improvised chases, and excited screams.

The older foals, more skilled, quickly joined the game. Since they mastered all the forms, they only transformed others into the same creature they had been turned into, multiplying the armies of ghosts, batponies, and shadow beings.

Night fell over us, but far from quieting, the schoolyard lit up with magical flashes, endless laughter, and the certainty that this night... would be unforgettable.

Later that night, I walked alongside my parents through Canterlot's main streets. The atmosphere was magical: floating pumpkins lit up the alleys, enchanted lights danced among the windows, and a fine artificial mist covered the cobblestones, giving everything a soft, almost cozy air of mystery.

I asked for candy at every door, smiling broadly. I knew I was a little old for it, but it didn't matter. The real point wasn't the candies piling up in my backpack —though I admit there were a lot— but the feeling of belonging, of being part of that special night. The ponies were generous, filling my bags without hesitation, except for a few nobles loudly complaining about "the vulgarity of the decorations."

"Oh, heavens, what an atrocity for classic architecture!" an elderly unicorn exclaimed, pointing at some animated pumpkins making faces.

I just chuckled quietly and continued with my candy collection.

It was on a corner, right in front of a bakery covered in fake ivy, that I ran into Flash. He was wearing simple armor, slightly rusted-looking, though the spiral engravings over the metal depicting ancient battles gave it a noble air.

"You look awesome!" I said enthusiastically, pointing at a strange symbol on his chestplate: a worn, pointed feather over a cloud.

"It's a tribute to the Ancient Apex Warriors," Flash explained, smiling with a special gleam in his eyes.

Without warning, he moved with feline agility, assuming an aggressive stance, wings spread wide, his face completely serious, showing just a hint of sharp teeth. The transformation was so quick that I took a small step back, impressed.

"Wow... That is scary," I admitted, half amused, half in awe.

We wished each other good luck with a simple gesture, a contained smile, and continued each our way with our families.

The night went on until exhaustion started to weigh on my hooves. Finally, we arrived home, where the warm light of the fireplace greeted us like a silent hug.

Serene, who had finished her guard shift early, joined us for dinner. We ate amid quiet conversations, only interrupted by occasional laughter at my parents' silly anecdotes from the past.

After dinner, my mom pulled out the photo album, a thick leather-bound tome. We sat by the fire, the crackling of the flames filling the silences between words.

We flipped through the pages, laughing quietly at old memories and telling silly stories. The warmth of the fire, the sound of my parents' voices, and the simple joy of being together made the whole night feel perfect.

For a little while, there was no rush, no worries —just us, sharing moments and smiles.

And as the fire flickered, I thought to myself that nights like this were the ones I would always want to remember.

...

..

.

A new weekend had dawned, and I was already awake long before the sun touched the rooftops of Canterlot. My excitement was impossible to contain. The theory Miss Maple had explained about magical signatures had opened up new perspectives for applying it to the summoning spell.

I spread my notes across the desk, laying them out like a map leading to some hidden treasure. The Turner Flow rune triangle was still there, roughly designed. As I reviewed its lines, I detected flaws everywhere: inefficient structures, energy redundancies, magical routes that seemed to meander without purpose. A primitive attempt, no doubt, but valuable as a foundation for study.

As I corrected some strokes with a piece of charcoal, I heard the creaking of the hallway floorboards. My father, Willstone, passed by the door of my room. He stopped, drawn by the soft glow of the runes floating above the parchment.

"Up so early and already studying?" he asked with a smile, poking his head in.

"I couldn't sleep..." I admitted, not taking my eyes off my notes. "I have an idea. I think I can improve the spell's stability by using our magical signature as an anchor."