The Tome, the Tude, and the Tiny Hands
Share
🧙♂️🐴✨ A Loui Library Disaster Chronicle
In the deepest, dustiest reaches of the Spiral Stack — a library so massive it had its own weather system and three species of undocumented sentient bookmarks — floated Loui, Archmage of Arcane Equine Arts, Second Circle. Possibly Third. He’d stopped updating the plaques a few decades ago.
The glimmering sigils of The Incantation of Eternal Peace and Silence buzzed around him like glittery mosquitoes. His wings beat lazily, barely keeping him aloft, his eyebrows knit tighter than the magical socks his grandmother once conjured into existence. He squinted down at the ancient tome hovering in front of him, one hoof rubbing his temple.
He was tired. So, so tired.
And the reason?
Two colts.
Cervantes and Obsidian.
Cervantes was a sunbeam in horse form — a pearly golden Perlino PRE colt with legs too long for his own good and an ego to match. He once insisted a magical mirror address him as “Your Radiance.” The mirror has since cracked. Out of spite.
Obsidian, meanwhile, was a Friesian Sporthorse colt with a midnight coat, a resting mischievous face, and the innate ability to teleport (accidentally) into areas marked EXTREMELY DO NOT ENTER OR LOUIS WILL EXPLODE.
Together? Chaos. The last time they played tag, they launched the entire Herbal Remedies wing into low orbit.
So Loui — dear, eternally grumpy Loui — had taken matters into his own... hooves.
Except today, he had hands.
Tiny. Magical. Wizardly. Pony. Hands.
“Why... do I have... HANDS?!” Loui hissed, flailing one in front of his face like it was cursed. It was not cursed. It was a side-effect of the Manualis Manus Mutation, a forgotten spell buried in the Grumpus Codex, Volume III: How to Yell at Clouds.
He’d cast it in a moment of desperation because hoof-typing “mystical calculus algorithms” had proven ineffective. One hour later, the only thing he had deciphered was his own blood pressure. Which was up.
And now the floating numerals from the book had decided they had rights.
A bold, glowing number 6 zipped past his head, trailing an angry little sign that read:
✨ ✊ “EQUAL TIME FOR DECIMALS!” ✨
“Not today, Six,” Loui growled, swatting at it with his new horrifyingly functional palm.
Somewhere near the forbidden geometry section, a loud CRASH echoed. Followed by the unmistakable sound of Cervantes shouting,
“I was TRYING to help! The cauldron looked thirsty!”
Then, from the other end of the library:
“OBSIDIAN NO, that’s not sugar, that’s DRAGON SPICE!!”
A fireball burst through the arches, neatly singeing the tail of a passing ghost. The ghost squealed and zipped into a birdcage already occupied by a different ghost, causing both to wail dramatically.
“Fantastic,” Loui muttered, circling the magical book again. “I’m surrounded by polterfoals and unionized punctuation.”
He refocused on the floating runes. The spell was close. He could feel it.
The Incantation of Eternal Peace and Silence.
One. Final. Glyph.
He muttered the syllables slowly. “Zeh-RAHN-doo… nahk… CALCU-LOOZ…”
From behind a candlelit bookshelf, the fluffy orange cat knocked a flask off a shelf.
Shatter.
Smoke.
A chicken materialized.
She blinked, made herself at home on a grimoire, and started laying an egg.
Loui didn’t even flinch.
The letters started rearranging themselves, mid-air, swirling faster.
“YES! YES!” Loui cackled, his wizard hat bouncing with excitement. “Come on, come on, give me that sweet, sweet si—”
Thud.
Something smacked into him mid-air.
It was Obsidian, riding a floating enchanted armchair with no regard for personal space or aviation laws.
“HI LOUUUUIIII LOOK I CAN DRIVE!!!”
“YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO—ACK!”
Loui spiraled, tumbling through runes, knocking over a precarious potion shelf and landing in a glowing pile of jellybeans.
Meanwhile, Cervantes galloped through with a crown on his head and an owl perched on his rump.
“The books say I’m the chosen one!” he hollered. “The prophecy says so! Or it was a horoscope. Same thing!”
The owl just looked tired.
Loui rose, bean-dusted and furious. “You. Foals. Are. Driving. Me. INSANE.”
He turned slowly, dramatically, to the book. His tiny wizard hands trembling, he whispered the final phrase:
“Tranquilitas Eternus.”
The spell activated. Runes flared. The candles dimmed. Magic danced through the air like stardust spun from silk.
The colts stopped. They blinked.
And then… silence.
Actual. Blessed. Glorious. Silence.
Loui floated down slowly. Wings furled. A rare smile teased the corner of his grumpy muzzle.
“Ahhh… finally... peace,” he whispered.
Then the owl cleared its throat and held up a scroll.
Loui squinted.
“Oh,” he said flatly. “You again.”
The owl unrolled it.
It read:
Side effects may include temporary quiet, spontaneous duplication, or reversal of maturity.
Loui blinked.
Behind him, two Cervanteses appeared. One with a monocle, the other with a kazoo.
Next to them, Obsidian shrank into a very fluffy foal-sized beanbag with legs and shouted,
“I’M BABY NOW!”
The egg under the chicken hatched. A glowing spider emerged, whispered “taxes are due,” and disappeared into a book.
The cat knocked over a crystal orb. A goblin applauded.
Loui let out a long, slow exhale.
His ears flicked forward.
His robe caught fire.
The floating book slapped him in the face and vanished into another dimension.
And then he said, in a voice so deep and full of rage it echoed into neighboring universes:
“I NEED A VACATION.”
THE END.
💫 …until next spell. 🐴📚🧙♂️