The Legend of Shimmerstrike

That dream wasn’t a dream—not completely.

I did awake to my own screaming and rushed from the sunlight that poured into the window of the Vampony’s cottage. My naked right side smoked from the sunlight and the pain lingered shortly after I took cover. I felt what I imagined was like being on fire. I’ve never been set on fire before. My hide hissed for a few seconds.

Other than the burning, I felt perfectly healthy.

And I felt…

I turned around to see my beloved wings on my shoulders. There was still blood around their bases from the old wounds. I felt like a foal that had just walked into their own surprise party; I was in stunned silence then tried to fly around the cottage in glee. My wings wouldn’t lift me from the floor. Moving was difficult at first but became easier the more I tried. I can say that we Pegasi don’t appreciate our wings like we should. I had to have them bitten off to realize just how important they were to me.

The happiness was nearly cut short when I realized how I’d gotten them back. I’d been infected by the Vampony, that was obvious. There aren’t many other ways for a pony to regenerate a limb. I knew it would be a major change in my life but I didn’t care. I was tired of hurting and being a Vampony wasn’t enough to make me miserable.

What did make me miserable was waiting for the moon. I’ve waited full days for a target during a contract, but waiting for the moon was different. The day dragged on until I was nearly willing to rush into the sun. I knew the sunlight hurt me but I wasn’t sure if it could kill me. The burning went away after a few minutes.

I crawled back onto the bed and stretched out. I immediately wanted to get up because I felt that I had been down too long. The air in the cottage was very stale.

It was worth the wait when the moon came. The definition of the night was much sharper. Anypony in their right mind would tell you that the night is a beautiful thing, but I’d have been envious of the Vamponies if I’d known what their nights were like. I could see and hear every flake of snow that blew in the wind. The cold that used to sting me caressed my coat. The wind whistled a soothing tune in my ears.

The forest seemed to beckon me to it, the friendly branches gesturing me in. They looked ominous enough to frighten a timid pony but I couldn’t help thinking that they were my friends. They seemed as alive as the animals that lived inside. Plants are living things, but it was different now. Ponies generally don’t think of plants that way, but I saw them the same as a dog or a bird then, like they had feelings. I obliged them and stepped inside.

The canopy was blocking the moon but I had no trouble seeing the clear path before me. I saw every root and rock sticking out of the ground. For a while I just roamed the forest, admiring everything I’d always taken for granted. I was so quiet stepping through the wood that even the deer didn’t notice me as I was right on them.

It was about an hour later that I felt a strange hunger. I’d never felt a craving like that before, but it didn’t take long to figure out what I needed.

I needed to find somepony.

* * *

My first victim was to be a guard pony that was patrolling the roads, a thick Earth stallion carrying a torch to light the way and a sword at his flank. He looked straight ahead as he walked, not looking into the forests that were on either side of him.

He was a lone stallion, and that’s all it took to convince me to attack.

The guards that patrol the roads are the most competent—I think—of all. This one saw a crazy mare charging him and quickly drew his blade to defend himself. I dodged his first strike and struck him with my hoof.

He rolled once and quickly got back up with a look of surprise. I lunged at him again and felt his blade rip through my coat. It barely hurt, like scraping your coat on thorns. I almost didn’t notice. I wouldn’t have noticed it if I hadn’t heard my flesh mending on its own. It was a sick sound, like a hoof pressing down into thick mud. I looked down at where the wound had nearly closed.

“Ew…” I said with a grimace. It had begun to hurt just when it closed up. I jumped with surprise and didn’t feel the pain any more.

The guard stood still with eyes wide. “What are you?”

I started toward him again. I thought he would cut me again but that time he slammed his torch down on my head. Embers flew in every direction and my head felt like it was on fire. I patted my smoking mane before it ignited. The stallion fled.

I watched him flee for a moment, rubbing my head and trying to hold back my laughter but not being able to keep in a few giggles. I’m not sure why, but I thought it was funny that he’d hit me with a torch. That’s not something you hear about very often, and even less so when they have a blade to swing.

The guard turned a wide corner and disappeared behind a small hill. I shook the ashes from my head and gave chase.

Flight had never been so effortless as it was then. I thought I’d still fly even if I stopped flapping my wings. Flight is generally enjoyable for all Pegasi, but with my heightened senses, it was even better.

Over the hill was a small fort. The door was blocked off by rubble that had fallen from the level above it where ponies would stand watch. A small tent was erected not far from the pile. The blanket underneath looked crispy, like it had been rained on then left to dry countless times. I could see that some spots were crispier than others. Just outside the tent was a burlap sack. The stale smell of corn came from it. I never liked corn that much.

I heard the faintest scrape of metal on stone coming from the level above me. I knew it was the guard. I knew exactly where he was. He knew—or thought—that I was just below him and that I would come up through the hole above the door to the fort, but I’m not a stupid pony.

He didn’t notice me behind him. I doubt he expected me to come from anywhere but that hole. I watched him a few moments. He stood with his blade pointed at where he thought my head would poke up. His breath was sharp, quick, the breath of a pony who fears for their life. He’d breath heavily a few times, then swallow and look around. The swallowing sound was almost as nasty as when I healed after being cut open.

I flew down beside him unnoticed. He was too focused on that hole. I waited, amused that he didn’t notice me right next to him. The second level was empty save for a few rotted wooden crates and a single sleeping bag that looked even more abandoned as the one below. Mildew covered the top and I could see mushrooms inside of it.

I cleared my throat and he froze. Then I tasted blood.

He didn’t move; a Vampony’s victim will be paralyzed when they are bitten. The more blood I drank, the stronger I felt and the weaker he got. He soon collapsed, his legs swinging comically like flails and his armor crashing on the stone. I went back down to the broken flesh at his neck and continued to drink; I drank until his heartbeat stopped.

I pulled back and wiped my lips. The stallion’s face was frozen in a look of terror. His eyes were watery and his nose was running. I didn’t feel remorse. He hadn’t harmed me personally, not until I attacked him. I left his corpse there without searching it. I didn’t need anything of his.

I felt fantastic.

* * *

I hadn’t thought about my last contract at all. I was supposed to kill somepony for Will-o-Wisp. She wanted me dead.

Nightshade was the one who got the contract from Nightmare Moon. I doubt she was unaware of Will-o-Wisp’s intentions, but she relayed the contract to Nightshade. That thought troubled me all the way home. The sun had nearly caught me by the time I made it indoors.

I slammed the door behind me and closed the shutters on my single window. I felt the burn of the small bit of sunlight that was coming from it. I stared at the burn a moment, rubbing it. Burns from the sun aren’t like burns from fire. When you’re a Vampony your skin burns as if you were on fire. Too much exposure—a minute of direct sunlight, I’d say—and you’re skin will turn to ash. I hadn’t had that bad of a burn before, but I’ve seen what the sun can do to a Vampony. I learn from others’ mistakes. The burns didn’t heal as quickly as being opened up by a sword but they healed much faster than if I were mortal.

I looked up at my cottage. It looked like a piece of trash that marred the beauty of the forest when I wasn’t here to keep up with it. Raccoons were the biggest offenders. They would chew holes in my walls and go inside and eat my food. I’ve caught a few but didn’t have the heart to kill them.

I’d really missed it though. I always missed it when I left. I thought it was time for another fire. The cold didn’t bother me but I wanted a fire to welcome myself home.

I wasn’t hungry for food and I wasn’t tired. My journal needed an update, so that’s what I did. That particular update was even longer than the last despite spanning a much shorter period of time. I couldn’t spare any details on the world beneath Equestria. I wanted to go back down there someday. I wouldn’t have to worry about the sun and I was more than prepared to handle any number of those creatures. I never went back down there.

After I finished my journal update I sprawled out on my bed and stared at the ceiling and kept thinking about the last contract. I would need to bring that to Nightshade. I thought that surely there couldn’t be a traitor among us.

I wasn’t tired, but I forced myself to sleep.

* * *

I dreamt again of my time with the bandits. I did most nights. Sometimes I only relive the moments. Other times I am there as I am now—a grown mare with a deadly set of skills—but unable to do anything except watch.

This night it was the former and for that I was glad. The latter is worse than any nightmare you could possibly have.

I shuffled to the shutters and threw them open and was hit by the light of the setting sun that was filtered through the clouds. It didn’t burn as the midday sun did, but it was uncomfortably hot.

I passed the time by reading a book. This one I was reading had been given to me by Moonshield. It was one she had picked up during a contract. It was about the Hoofington Ripper. It was labeled Nonfiction but I have the authority to say that it’s not.

The book put my body count at eighty-seven and made sure to add in that twelve of the victims were foals. That at least doubles the hatred toward the evil pony in question. They were wrong about my body count.

That was just how many of my victims they had found.

I’ve killed and skinned two-hundred and nine ponies in my time. More than twelve of them were foals. I can’t even recall how many ponies I’ve killed altogether in my life. They all wouldn’t go toward my body count since I didn’t skin every pony I killed and there were times when I was honestly defending myself.

I considered writing a book, an autobiography, setting the records straight. I was the only one who knew everything. The authorities only knew a tiny fraction of the details.

I went outside when the sun went down. I wasn’t hungry yet and didn’t have anything of importance to do. The wild is beautiful at night and I wanted to see it again. It was still cold but I couldn’t tell you how cold. There was no snow in the air. Bats would fly overhead and I would see them before they passed in front of the moon.

Nothing exciting happened on my walk. The thought about my last contract was still troubling me. I decided to bring my troubles to Nightshade. He could always help me when I needed it. Nightshade lived in his own manor in Canterlot. One of the many perks of being the Listener is having more bits than you can spend.

I went around to the back side of his house and went down the hatch leading into the cellar. The cellar was mostly bare with wooden crates scattered about. It could have been neater, but I’d seen worse.

I went up the stairs that lead into his den. He was sitting in a large, comfortable-looking chair, reading a book. A fire burned on the far side of the room. I like the smell of burning wood. It’s very comforting to me. There was an ornate end table next to it with an identical chair on the other side. I sat in the other chair.

“You never come to visit here unless you need my help,” he said without looking up from his book. “What do you need?”

“Help.”

He snapped his book shut and looked at me. “With?”

I told him all that happened after the last time I saw him, excluding the vampirism bits. As far as he knew, I came straight here after crawling out of the abyss.

“You’re a hard mare to kill, aren’t you?”

“Harder still.” I smiled. If only he knew just how hard I was to kill then.

His expression straightened. “This is, of course, a serious matter. If the Brotherhood has been compromised, we must find this traitor. I don’t like killing my family. I hope it doesn’t come to that.”

Whenever there are suspicions of a traitor in the Brotherhood, said traitor is tracked to their chapter and that whole chapter is killed to ensure that the traitor is dead. Nightshade was wrong in not resorting to this Purification right away, but I understood why he hesitated. I’ve had to do it once. The worst part is that I never learned who the traitor was. I know that I killed the traitor though.

“You wouldn’t mind helping me find this traitor, would you?” he asked. “It seems like you have more reason than any to kill her.”

“So the traitor’s a mare? How do you know?”

“No, I just assumed, Shimmerstrike. You mares outnumber us stallions by quite a bit. It’s more likely that the traitor is a mare.” That made sense. It seems like there are ten mares for every stallion in Equestria.

“Of course.” I just wanted things to go back to the way they were.

He nodded. “Yes. I’ll see what I can find out. Be subtle, Shimmerstrike. If the traitor learns that he or she is being hunted, we’ll never find what we’re looking for. Speak only to me about this. If I find something, you’ll be the only one to know.”

I nodded. “Likewise.”

He nodded, then stared at me. “You look different. You actually look your age now.”

I didn’t want to tell him why I did. I wasn’t much over twenty years then but I always looked older from terrible sleep habits and poor diet—lack of a diet would be more accurate.

When there is a pony the Dread Father wanted, taking that pony’s life was more important to me than eating or sleeping, though after becoming a Vampony I didn’t need either. I’d lost my taste for food completely but I could sleep if I wanted. I always looked my youngest right after I fed. I once went two months without feeding. By then I looked like a monster. I was also stronger than I’ve ever been. Much stronger. A Vampony who could fast for years could probably rival the Divines in power. Nopony has the will for that.

Nightshade was a year older than me, but he always put his health as a top priority. He would have been able to kill that stallion in Dead Mare’s Cairn. Will-o-Wisp too, I’d bet. I was tired when I fought that bear of a stallion. Nightshade would never go into a contract sleep deprived and hungry.

I took a few seconds to think of something to say. “I just needed a break is all.” Not masterfully deceptive but Nightshade never pressed me for information I didn’t want to give. He trusted me. I was suspicious of him though. Trusting ponies gets you killed. I’ve seen it happen.

“I’ll start my search tomorrow,” he said. “Do you want to stay here tonight?”

“No.”

“I have a spare bedroom. Eleven, actually.”

“That’s not why. I’m starting my search tonight.” Even the Listener didn’t his duties to the Dread Father more seriously than me. I was determined to find the traitor and I wouldn’t rest until I did. Honestly, I hadn’t felt tired since before the Vampony killed me.

“Best of luck to you then. Remember… speak of this to nopony but me.” He started toward his room, then stopped and felt around for something in his pockets. “Ah, before I forget,” he pulled out a letter. “Another contract. For you.”

I didn’t want a contract. I could have declined but that would have looked bad. I took the letter and opened it and read it as Nightshade went to bed.

It wasn’t even an important target, just another nopony. I’m glad it was. One of the benefits of being a Speaker is having a Silencer. You’ve already heard of Moonshield, who was mine. I would take the letter to her and she would carry out the contract. I didn’t usually trust her with my contracts, not that she was incompetent. She was very talented, but it was my name on the line if she failed. If she failed, she would die. I liked to think of her as a close friend, so I didn’t want her to die for a contract I was supposed to complete.

* * *

I left through the cellar. I threw the hatch open and jumped into the crisp, cold air without a sound and shut the cellar door back and snapped the lock shut. The cold comforted me, made me feel safe for some strange reason.

The streets of Canterlot are nice at night. They’re empty. Anypony with at least half a brain doesn’t wander the streets at night. That was my doing. I killed four ponies who decided to take a midnight stroll. One was a stallion who was part of a contract. Another was an orphan colt who was sickly, a mercy killing. Third was a stallion who tried to take my bits. I didn’t even have any but I killed him anyways. The most recent was a mare just a few days before the start of my story. She hadn’t done anything to me and wasn’t memorable. I just didn’t like her face.

I used my usual methods when acting as the Ripper and the citizens assumed that I’d strike again and decided to stay inside. I thought it was funny. As if a locked door ever stopped the Hoofington Ripper.

A strong breeze was blowing, creating small spirals of snow in places. The signs from the shops swung back and forth, their chains rattling, creating an eerie soundtrack for the barren streets. Nopony was up. Nopony was out.

I pulled my hood over my head and started toward the city gate. There was nopony out, but the guards would be watching. It is illegal for Pegasi to fly over the city gates. You will have a bounty for trying until you are proven innocent of the crime they imagined. It’s illegal for Unicorns to teleport too, but it’s harder to catch them, and even harder for them to actually teleport. Only a few Unicorns can do it.

With my cloak on I was an Earth or a Unicorn pony for all they knew. They only had one guard at the gate, which was weird because they normally guarded in pairs. She was a Pegasus mare holding a spear. All city guards are Pegasi so they can catch other Pegasi who try to fly over the wall. The road guards are usually Earth ponies. The other one was either patrolling the city or using the bucket, which I always thought was disgusting—it’s cleaner to go in the woods. I stepped closer to the gate, more sure that she would stop me with every step.

“Halt!”

I stopped and looked at her from beneath my hood. She couldn’t have seen my face. My picture had been sent to every city in Equestria, I’m sure, and I know the ponies of Equestria cried in fear from the news of my escape. If she recognized me I would have to kill her. As long as I didn’t skin her I’d be all right. She was tall and knelt down to try and see under my hood.

“Where are you headed at this hour?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“The wilds of Equestria aren’t safe for a little mare like you. Least of all at night. We have bandits, snow tigers, bears… even,” she looked right then left, “Wereponies.”

And Vamponies, I thought. “Let me pass.”

“I’m gonna need to see your face then. Just in case I need a suspect’s description tomorrow,” she said, eyeing me suspiciously. “Take your hood off.”

I was afraid for a moment. She would recognize me, I knew it. They plastered my face all over Equestria I’m sure. I pulled my hood down and looked up at her while she studied my face. Her eyes shot wide and I saw terror in her face.

“You’re the Hoo…” She grasped at her throat, trying to keep the blood from pouring out. I was gone before she hit the ground.

Her partner shouldn’t have left. She might have lived.

I heard the bells ringing from a quarter-mile away. They were deep and loud, waking everypony in the city. They found the guard. They never found me. I laughed softly to myself as I walked the roads. Then I took to the skies.

* * *

I returned to the town the next morning. I didn’t need to keep my hood up. The morning sun was weak and I had fed not too long ago. The guard I killed was still there and the townsponies were gathered around her corpse. Her dried blood made a big brown circle beneath her body, staining the white stonework of the walkway. I went to examine her just like one of the townsponies. A mare in a leather coat spotted me as soon as I got to her and yelled to me. She was levitating a scroll that she was scribbling on with a black and white quill.

“You there!” she waved her hoof at me. “Come here now.” I walked over innocently.

“What happened?” I asked her.

“Poor mare had her throat cut last night. You didn’t see anypony here last night did you?”

“No.”

Her hat rose from her head, wrapped in green magic. Her eyes began to glow and I felt her going through my mind. She was still for almost thirty seconds.

Kill her, the voices whispered.

I didn’t listen to them. Nightshade told me to keep a low profile and I killed another pony before I even left the city. But then I began to think to myself, Do it. You can get away with it. You know you can. I could have. But I still didn’t listen.

The magic faded.

That was the reason I hated Unicorns most of all. They used that spell to tell if a pony is lying. Some of the higher-level Unicorns can even read your mind or see your memories through your eyes. I guessed she wasn’t so competent. It was easy to fool a Unicorn new to that magic; I could fool a fairly adept one. This was how they knew my name and what I’d done when I was captured, from the beginning of my story, you remember. I was unconscious when they went through my memories, unable to resist them.

“Hm, I guess you’re all right, then.”

“Sorry. I just got here from Ponyville. I’ve only been here twice before.”

“When was the last time?”

“When I was ten years old.”

“Ah, what brings you back?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“Fair enough. Well, if you don’t have any information on this murder, it’s probably best that you go your own way. Every time I run off these ponies, another group replaces them.”

“Have you threatened to kill them if they don’t leave?”

She was speechless for a few moments. “Uh… no, I don’t believe I have. I’d lose my job for that.”

I shrugged. “It would work on me.” Then I walked away. I wanted a drink. Not water. I went to the tavern.

There were several stallions and mares gathered around the hearth in the center, all waving their mugs around merrily. I went to the owner at the bar and asked if they had strawberry wine.

“Oh, yes, a nice vintage. It might be a bit steep for you, though.”

“Why?”

“Oh, I just figured…” She was eyeing my frazzled mane. It looked surprisingly good if I took the time to groom myself. The fact that I was wearing tattered robes didn’t help.

“That I didn’t have money?”

“Do you have money?”

“How much?”

“Eighty bits. I’ll throw in a nice meal for another ten.”

“Just the wine,” I said. I threw the bits on the counter. She swept them off with her hoof and went to the back. She returned with an elegant-looking bottle, black glass with a beautiful red label that had patterns of vines cut out, revealing the glass beneath.

“You forgot the glass,” I told her.

“You… want a glass?” She seemed puzzled, looking at all the ponies drinking their spirits out of the bottles.

“Yes, I want a glass.” I always drank wine from a glass. I might have been a murderer, but I believe etiquette is something everypony should practice, even if only a little.

“All right.” She gave me a glass. The glass was opaque with grime, probably the cleanest I’d have found in that dump. I leaned in to her ear.

“Insult me like that again and I’ll cut your face from your head.” She cowered back slightly, staring at me with her huge eyes.

I uncorked the bottle and the smell of strawberries filled the tavern. I smiled. Then a large mare yelled.

“Hey! Who is drinking that fairy drink?!”

I ignored her and filled my glass, still smiling. The mare was walking around the tavern, looking for the one with the fairy drink. I took a sip of my wine. Then she saw my fairy drink. She was an ugly mare—probably the ugliest mare I’ve ever seen—bigger than most stallions and scarred up. It looked like her crooked muzzle had been broken several times. Her coat was white but nearly black with dirt, and her mane was a dirty yellow like her teeth.

“Aye, it’s you then,” she said.

“Yes.”

“We drink proper northern drinks here. Pour that weak trash out.”

“What happens if I don’t?”

She reached for my bottle but I got to it first. I wrapped my hoof around the neck and launched it into her face. The glass struck her square in the muzzle, making a hollow thump, but didn’t shatter. Drops of blood came from her left nostril and she stared at me as she dabbed the blood with her hoof then licked it. I heard the patrons gasp.

“I’m going to kill you now, filly.”

She reached her hoof back and slammed it to my face. The world spun and I was on my back, leaning against the wall. She grabbed the stool she knocked me off of and threw it at me. I didn’t move, just raised my hooves to protect my face.

One of the legs broke off and she threw another one. It didn’t break. I stood up and shook the splinters out of my mane, ready to brawl with the giant mare. She was stronger than me but very slow. I dodged several blows, weaving in between her legs and hitting her in the back of the head.

She caught on after the fifth time. I went behind her and she kicked with both back legs. My ribs were broken again but I could hear the clicking sound of them mending as soon as they were broken.

The patrons were all cheering the mare on, cheering her name.

“Ironclad! Ironclad!”

She was Ironclad the Unbreakable, the toughest pony in Equestria, and she was picking a fight with a tiny mare she didn’t even know because the tiny mare wanted strawberry wine. Oh, I aimed to make her pay for that.

I grabbed hold of a stool and spun around with all my strength which was greater than I thought because of the vampirism. The stool struck her on the side of the head and she reeled back.

“My ear! You bastard, that was my ear!” Blood was streaming down the side of her face.

“Oh?”

I leapt up to her head and bit down on the ear the stool struck. She screamed and pushed me down. Her ear went with me with a nasty snap and a blood-curdling scream from its former owner. It tasted disgusting. She hadn’t bathed in a year, I’d guessed. I started pummeling at the wound, beating her until she yielded. Her head bounced off the floor with every blow. She was crying before I let up, actually crying. The patrons looked at us in awe.

I left the tavern casually. I turned to see three ponies trying to help the giant mare to hear hooves. She shoved them all back and got up on her own.

* * *

What I did next was close to breaking one of the Tenets. I told you Nightshade trusted me. I didn’t trust him. Not then. Nightmare Moon gave him the contract. She knew Will-o-Wisp would try to kill me; Nightmare Moon knows everything. She would have told Nightshade. This was suspicious enough to follow up on.

I entered his home through the cellar again. He would be gone, searching for the traitor. He was slow and careful in his work, always paying attention to detail. I knew this and I knew that everything must look exactly as it did from the time I broke in.

I knew his home well. I lived with him for nearly a year when I first joined the Brotherhood. He was always kind to me despite being a murderer, kinder even than my own parents—or at least the way I remember them. It’s hard to picture them at all now and that makes me sad.

If he hid something proving that he was a traitor, I wasn’t sure where to start looking for it. He certainly wouldn’t put it in his room. Would he? I checked his room just to be sure.

His room looked very different than the last time I’d been in it. His desk was the only thing that was in the same place, in front of one of the windows. He liked to do all his writing at night under the light of the moon. That window looked down into the streets which are crowded during the day. That can be distracting.

There was a sheet of blank parchment on his desk. An inkwell sat on the upper corner to keep it from being blown off the desk, and a quill sat inside the inkwell. Then I saw the stack of letters.

“Easy…” I said to myself. I figured he knew the order these letters were in. Maybe he didn’t but I wasn’t going to risk it. I paid attention to each letter I read, placing them back in the correct order, and set them back just as they were.

The first was a letter to the Listener from a chapter in another country, one I hadn’t heard of. Nightshade was requesting the company of a Speaker. His wastebasket was full of crumpled notes. They were rough drafts of this one. He finally got it right.

The second was a letter to a mare that he was interested in. She didn’t know what he did to earn his living. I’d seen her once. She was a nice mare, very friendly, always happy. Nightshade was the same way, but he was false. I don’t think she was a good match for him.

The third was a letter from Malice and a letter to her that he hadn’t sent yet. The letter from her was thanking him for one of the new recruits that turned out to be exceptional. I could have easily killed her but, for a new recruit, she was exceptional.

Then there was a letter to her.

The letter to her was for a contract. A noble from Baltimare wanted somepony dead, the meeting place would be Dead Mare’s Cairn. He specifically told Malice to send me.

I was devastated, more hurt than I’d been since my parents were killed. Nightshade lied to me. He aimed to send me to my death. But for what? I’d done nothing wrong. It didn’t matter.

He was the traitor. He would send me on a goose chase to find this traitor while he came up with another way to have me killed. I crumpled the letter and threw it to the floor. It rolled under his bed. I didn’t care if he found it.

I found what I’d came for, and much more quickly than I thought I would. Sometimes you get small favors like that.

I left through the front door, leaving it wide open out of spite, and pulled out my contract to read again. Another attempt to kill me, I was sure of it. I decided not to send Moonshield. She couldn’t be trusted. I could only trust myself.

The streets were beginning to get crowded. A mare bumped into me as I passed and knocked me down. She only glanced at me with contempt then started to walk away. I wanted to stab her but I didn’t. Instead, I got up and started going over the letter again.

The target for that contract was in a series of caves that were named Bloodcrust Caverns by the ponies of Equestria. They got that name because of the monsters that lived inside. I couldn’t accept that he would be stupid enough to think I wouldn’t know where I was going. I’d been all over Equestria, and he knew that I was fascinated in stories of monsters that lived in Equestria.

They still fascinate me. You never know who—or what—we share this world with. Even if the stories are fake, they are still ones I like to hear, especially the scary ones.

I was curious as to what he had waiting for me down there…

* * *

The caves were just outside a small town about an hour from Canterlot—you could see Canterlot from the town on a clear day. This day was not clear. A storm rolled in roughly half of the way there and I was soaked in seconds. I almost landed out of fear of being struck by lightning, but I figured that if being ripped open by a sword didn’t kill me, then neither would lightning. I took my chances and didn’t get struck.

The caves weren’t hidden. It appeared to be a large pile of boulders with a hole in the middle, like a door, going down into the earth. Nopony was outside, and there were no signs of life.

There were signs of death, though nothing recent from what I could tell. A few incomplete skeletons were lying around the entrance. What would the guards do if this were reported? Nothing. If these ponies were stupid enough to come here alone or in that small of a group, then they would have been picked off sooner or later. Natural selection can be cruel.

I was hesitant at first. I knew what was down there, and I might have be going to my actual death, but if I did nothing, I’d face a much more pathetic death. At least that is what I told myself, and it was enough to convince me to put my fear aside.

I started to go inside, never before as cautious as I was then. I couldn’t hear anything but the storm and a very faint breeze blowing through the caves. My hooves made less noise than before; I couldn’t even hear them myself. Also, unlike before in my life, I felt as I should have. Sneaking around always made me timid, jumpy at every sound. I felt like a hunter, and whatever I was looking for was terrified that I’d find it.

At first, I was hoping that Nightshade was down there. If he was, I was going to kill him. After a minute I dismissed that thought. I tried to think of any way I might have misread the letter, or falsely jumped to a conclusion. I didn’t know everything yet, and I needed more evidence to resort to something that drastic.

If I was right all along, I was going to kill him. I’d kill anypony who had a hoof in that plot as well. Sithis was never kind to traitors and there are few things I loved more than sending them to him. The thought of it had me in a good mood.

All of those thoughts distracted me as I walked through the cave. I fantasized about what I was going to do to the ones who betrayed me if that plot did exist. And then voices pulled me from my reverie.

Two mares. A stallion too. They all had accents I hadn’t heard very often, the snobby accents the nobles usually put on for show. These ponies’ accents were authentic. They weren’t talking about anything important to me. It was like they weren’t expecting me at all. I didn’t think they would. Nightshade hadn’t send the letter yet.

“Who’s there?” one of them asked. It was one of the mares. I held my breath and stood still. I hadn’t come far enough to see them. Maybe she just heard a bat or something. “Wait here.” A chair scraped across stone. I didn’t hear hoofsteps.

“I know you’re here,” she said. “Save me the trouble. Come out, and I’ll kill you quickly.”

The mare’s shadow was cast on the wall just at the corner, from the light of candles I guessed. Her shadow was just a big blur. She could have been a pony, she could have been a dragon. I pawed at the dagger sheathed at my flank, taking no chances. She would die if she rounded that turn.

She rounded the corner and I stabbed. Nothing was there and I was looking at the ceiling then. Blood seeped into my eye. The tip of a longsword was at my throat. The ebony mare was standing over me.

“Who are you? What are you doing here?”

I kicked her in the groin, pushed myself up with my wings, and stabbed her in the throat. She reeled back and fell, one hoof holding the wound, the other on her groin. I heard my flesh mending. I heard hers too. She gasped for air once the wound closed, looking at me. She healed much faster than I did. She put her sword away.

“You’d kill your own kind?” she said.

“You aren’t my kind.”

“Then where is your wound? I wasn’t born the night before. I’ve walked Equestria for a hundred years. You are a Vampony.”

She looked like a monster, a very old monster. She looked like the bastard offspring of a bat and a goblin, who then mated with a pony. She didn’t have an old voice though. It was the voice a middle-aged mare, almost motherly. Her wings looked like the wings of a bat and she had tufts of fur on the tips of her long, pointed ears. The tips of her fangs peaked from her lips. Mine weren’t nearly that long. You probably couldn’t have seen them unless I grinned.

I couldn’t really think of a response. All she did was point out the obvious. That was the first time I’d stabbed a pony in the throat without killing them. Suddenly I felt like prey again.

She wasn’t hostile. She stepped closer to me and looked into my eyes. “Only a fledgling. You can’t possibly have seen more than a moon. I’m not sure how you managed to get the best of me.”

“Killing is my business.”

“I hope your business wasn’t to come here to kill us. If so, you’re going to die.”

“I’ve heard that quite a few times, and here I am. Don’t threaten me.”

She scoffed. “You walked into my home and tried to kill me. I should have cut your head off.” I was getting angry. She remained calm. That made me angrier, but I never showed it. Anger is a weakness, it clouds the mind and gets you killed. I hesitated and she drew her sword again and pointed it at me. “So what will it be? Do you want to live or die?”

Death didn’t frighten me anymore. I’d always thought that death was the worst thing, something to be feared—until I died. I came back stronger than I could have ever hoped to be as a mortal pony. I might have been taking too much of an advantage of my accelerated healing. It made me less careful than before. If I wasn’t the slightest bit careful, I could wind up permanently dead. It didn’t scare me, but I wanted to live. I wasn’t done living yet.

But I wasn’t going to surrender. I did the only thing I could think of.

She almost put her sword through me. I side-stepped and bit into her neck. Her blood was disgusting, curdled. I got a mouthful of it the instant her flesh broke. I spit it out, along with some bile, then started to dry-heave.

She was thrusting her sword. I could hear it whistling through the air. I couldn’t move; I had to get that taste out of my mouth. Then the rich taste of my own blood covered it up.

She pulled her sword out, then stabbed me again. My first wound had started to close by the time I had been stabbed four times. She pulled her sword out and went to stab me again. I rolled and slashed her leg. The faintest taste of her blood returned and I gagged.

We stared each other down. Our wounds had closed and we both appeared fresh, as if nothing had just happened.

I heard hoofsteps.

A blade plunged into my back, just between my wings. It wasn’t long enough to come out through my chest. I sat down and looked behind me. It was the stallion that stabbed me. He pulled me to my feet by my mane and I was facing the old mare.

He pulled my mane up higher, exposing my neck, and went to feed.

“No,” the Bat Goblin said. “This one’s like us.”

“Fire. Burn her. hehe.” The stallion was simple. A simple Vampony, you’d never think it.

“We don’t have fire.”

He pulled my mane higher up. My hooves nearly left the ground.

“Uh-huh,” he said, excited.

The Bat Goblin smiled. “Smart boy.” She was going to cut my head off.

I didn’t panic. I waited for her to swing. When she did, I thrust my wings into the stallion’s face. He dropped me and held his eyes. I fell to my stomach and the Bat Goblin accidentally cut the stallion’s head off. His corpse fell to the ground and didn’t regenerate. The Bat Goblin looked heartbroken.

I stabbed the Bat Goblin in the stomach and wrenched her sword from her. She might have let me take it. Then I went to take the head of the other mare. She ducked and kicked me in the face. I fell to the floor, the world spinning. The cut on my lip started to heal. She was on top before I could see straight. I did the only thing I could: I pounded straight up with my hooves. Despite my newfound strength, it still didn’t seem to hurt her.

She hit me back, knocking me on my side. Then she started pounding at the side of my head, first hitting me in the ear a few times, then hitting me hard in the face. I heard a faint crack and my head bounced off the cave floor, making the world spin. The mare stepped up and looked down on me.

My wounds healed, but I still felt broken. I didn’t get up. She did what I wanted her to. She knelt down and tried to pull me to my hooves.

“Get up,” she said.

When she grabbed me I grabbed her and sank my fangs into her neck. Her blood wasn’t curdled. It tasted better than the road guard’s. Just like him, she froze when I bit into her. Vamponies aren’t immune to their own effects. I drank my fill and threw her down. She started to crawl away, breathing heavily.

The Bat Goblin was cradling the headless corpse of the stallion. Perhaps he was her son. I didn’t care. I drew my dagger, leaped into the air, and came down right on the other mare’s back, driving it into her spine. She screamed but was heard by only me. I planted my back hooves at her shoulders and grabbed her by the head. She started to scream louder. It gave me strength. I pulled up with everything I had. Her screams grew louder with every second until the last, when they ended with a curious tearing sound that you can’t hear anywhere else. I dropped her head.

The Bat Goblin wouldn’t even look at me. I’d hurt this mare more than I ever could have with a blade. She was stroking the stallion’s corpse, sobbing hysterically.

I watched a moment, feeling awful. Why did I feel awful? I don’t know.

“What are you waiting for?” she said. I almost didn’t hear her.

“Who was he? Your son?”

Her lips tightened into a hideous smile as she tried to stop crying, only able to do so for a few seconds. She nodded her head, then continued to cry.

“I’m sorry,” I said. I wasn’t sure if I meant it or not.

“I killed him…” she whispered. “I killed my own child,” she stroked him more, then pawed at the wound she’d given him. She looked back up at me with enough hate to make me uneasy. “It should have been you!”

“But it was him.”

“Yes. It was…”

“I’m going to kill you next.”

“I want you to.”

“What?”

“Kill me, I won’t fight. I don’t want to live anymore, not with what I’ve done.” I stepped closer, her sword in my hoof. She coughed and spit on the floor, showing her teeth to me in hate. “I hope you suffer what I have today. You’re a monster. Do you understand?”

“We’re all monsters,” I said. I’d already felt her pain, years before. I had nopony else to lose. Only myself.

I nodded. Then I decapitated her.

* * *

The mare I’d ripped the head off of had pockets full of gold. I didn’t take any. I might have just murdered those three, but I’ve never stolen anything in my life. It would have just weighed me down. I honestly can’t recall buying hardly anything, at least not after my parents were killed. Nightshade always went out of his way to keep my cottage stocked with food and that strawberry wine I love. Gold wasn’t something I’d ever needed, but I usually some in case I came across something I had to have.

I knew those Vamponies had a living quarters in those caverns. Vamponies—most, not all—are pretentious, high-class snobs when not attacking others. They think they are better than your average ponies. We’re all beasts on the inside. Vamponies just try harder to hide it. I embraced it.

The caverns were massive, though empty. The Vamponies would have made sure to kill any pests and predators in their home to make it safe. I wished they hadn’t then. I was always hoping for a fight shortly after my un-death. My enhanced senses gave clarity to the adrenaline rushes I got during a fight. It was a feeling in its own; I was in an empowering frenzy, yet completely in control. I liked it, and sought to feel it whenever possible.

I descended further into the caverns for an hour or two. They had their quarters at what appeared to be the end. It looked like the interior of a house instead of a cave. The walls were paved with brick and there was a fire pit in the center below a small hole in the ceiling. Two of their mattresses were close together. One was noticeably larger than the other. There was enough space between them for a pony to stand. The third was on the other side of the room.

There was nothing near the lone mattress. The other two had a bag on each end. The bag by the larger bed had food in it, apples, carrots, lettuce. The bag by the smaller bed had a couple of carrots and something wrapped in a silk cloth. I pulled the cloth away to reveal a journal.

This journal belonged to the Bat Goblin. She had written her name, Black Valor, on the cover, claiming the journal as her own. I opened it.

She wasn’t lying about how old she was. There were entries dating back eighty and ninety years. Her script grew more elegant as the years went on. She wrote very small, allowing her to fit much more on the page. The first entries were obviously when she was a foal. In her adolescence, Black Valor was a member of the Warhorses, a group of ponies who solve problems for others—for a fee, of course. They are good ponies though. It wasn’t until the 5th of Rain’s Hoof that something of interest to me had happened.

Morndas, 5th Day of Rain’s Hoof, 3E 399

This might be my last entry. They killed Battle Hymn. They think they got me. Not yet, but I don’t think I’ll last much longer.

The pages were covered in bloodstains. It had seeped through several of the pages, but there were more entries once the pages were clean.

Fridas, 12th Day of Rain’s Hoof, 3E 399

Battle Hymn woke me. I saw him die, yet there he was when I woke. I don’t know how but I don’t care. My colt is alive. This is the greatest day of my life.

The next few entries were her accounts on dealing with her first few days of vampirism. They all started with telling of her hunger. I could relate. She wasn’t able to kill her first victim. Her son was.

The nine entries after that were all suicidal thoughts. These entries were stretched over two years. She struggled with what she’d become, much more than I did. She was a good pony before, and then she had to kill innocents to survive. She wrote that if it weren’t for Battle Hymn, she would have stayed in the caves and wasted away.

Five years after her infection, she decided to investigate the condition.

Morndas, 1st of Frostfall, 3E 406

I’ve gone three days without feeding. My appearance hasn’t changed any but my hunger is growing more painful by the second. Battle Hymn feeds, and I let him. I won’t feed. Equestria needs to know what we are.

Tirdas, 2nd of Frostfall, 3E 406

Four days without feeding. I’m feeling change, but can’t quite put my hoof on it. Battle Hymn says I look older. He feeds every day and looks younger than he did before he died. That must be it. I’ll write again after a notable change.

Tirdas, 31st of Frostfall, 3E 406

Battle Hymn is afraid of me now. I would be. I look like a monster, the monster I feel that I am. He still feeds every day and still looks the same. After more than a month without feeding, I’m beginning to look more like a bat than a pony. The power that comes with this appearance is just as frightening. I like it though.

The rest of the entries were her research notes on some of the traits and powers of Vamponies. We all have the basic powers like regeneration and enhanced senses, but there are powers unique to some, powers that set them apart from others.

She learned quite a bit in her time. I would have learned them on my own, but finding them then was helpful. It gave me an early start on my new self.

I decided to keep the journal for further reference. I also kept it because I didn’t want it to rot down here or be found by somepony else. The guilt of killing that mare and her colt had hurt me just slightly. She wasn’t evil, just a loving mother. It was a strange feeling, one I’d never felt in as long as I can remember.

I found nothing there to link those three with Nightshade, but I think I found something more valuable

Every Vampony has a unique power.

“What’s mine?”