Over four thousand years of experience, both as flesh and blood and spirit, has taught me many things. I learned how to use magic from one of the best, and he taught me that quite literally anything is possible when dealing with magic and the multiverse. I learned that nothing is absolute, and that most “gods” and “goddesses” are dicks for a reason.
The absolute worst enemy for an immortal is boredom. I know this as I have experienced it myself. Immortals NEED things to do, it is the reason that they do the stupid and insane shit that they do. It makes them feel alive! Having others pray to them makes them feel important, like they are actually worth something.
Mortals would think that being around for thousands of years would make immortals immune to this sort of thinking, but in all seriousness it only encourages it. Hell, the main reason I tried to shroud Merlon’s world in darkness was because I was mad at the self entitled prick. I nurtured my anger towards the mage because it helped me feel alive, which led to it eventually becoming the hatred I hold towards the bastard today.
One week of true darkness and suddenly I am revered as an evil goddess who was unshackled from her flesh and blood prison to burn their villages and sentence their souls to oblivion...
Toads really did overreact to everything.
Nonetheless, it is for these reasons that I am surprised to hear on the ethereal wind, a prayer directed towards me of all beings as my servant and I roll into the town. My pets long since departed into the shadows that are now their home.
“My Dark Queen, hear my plea.”
I blink and look around unsure if I actually heard the prayer, an insistent tugging is trying to pull me towards what I can only guess is the individual praying. I stand up and step off the back of the wagon- casting a misdirection charm as I do so- and start walking in the direction of the pull.
“Keep my hoofsteps muffled, and my blade silent.”
I turn down a dark alleyway between two buildings my host calls apartment buildings, feeling the pull getting stronger as I do so.
“As I shroud myself in your cold embrace, and commit my deeds in your name.”
I start climbing a metal staircase leading up the side of the left apartment building, pausing at each floor long enough to confirm that I need to go higher before continuing.
I pause again as another voice speaks up.
“Sweet Mother, sweet Mother, send your children unto me, for the sins of the unworthy must be baptized in blood and fear.”
The second voice sounds like a filly, her voice laced with exhaustion. I frown and pick up our pace, determined to find the filly chanting words she should not know let alone be speaking.
“You’ve come! I did it! The thing, with the body, and the blade!”
I pause outside the next door the pulling sensation telling me that this is my destination. I reach for the handle before freezing and wondering what I am doing.
“It’s alright, you don’t have to say anything, I know why you’re here. You’re here for my contract!”
After a moment of thinking I come to a conclusion and wrap us in an invisibility spell before stepping off to the side and waiting for this meeting of theirs’ to come to an end.
“I want you to go to Manehatten and kill a griffon named Gilda, she’s in prison but she… she needs to die...”
The voices go silent and a moment later a figure dressed in a black and red outfit steps out. They are completely silent as they descend the steps leading back to the alleyway. We wait for a while before turning to the door. I turn the handle and am surprised when it opens quietly.
Stepping inside, We close the door and lock it before turning to the darkened home. The shadows seem to cling to the walls and there is a stench of death in the stale air. My host’s instincts are setting me on edge as we walk forward.
It is a small abode from what We see, a small lavatory is at the other side of the home, but it doesn’t look like it has seen use in several years, besides the toilet. In the main room there is a stove with a box of crackers on it set next to several phials of water. There are cobweb covered cabinets above said oven and a single bed across from it. The floor is covered in dust with such a fine layer that tiny hoofprints are very obvious to see. There is a space beside the bed indicating where there was once a door to a closet, but the door is no longer there, leaving an empty archway. There is a flickering light coming from the archway, and with our curiosity peaked, We walk over to it.
Inside the little pocket is an earth pony filly with a purple mane and an orange coat, wearing a pair of blue jeans and a black shirt. What catches our attention however is the dagger in her hands and the pile of bones in front of her in a ritualistic circle. Countless emotions roll through us as We try to comprehend the scene but I clamp down on them. This requires a delicate touch of one who knows death intimately, not one of a panicked mare way out of her depth. I glance down at our body and decide that this needs a more dramatic touch, considering the circumstances. The shadows surround and enfold us like a second skin, giving us the image of a mare made of living shadows, perfect for what I have in mind for the filly.
“Now what do we have here?” I ask the air, dropping the invisibility and misdirection spells as I do. It gets the desired effect as the filly whirls around and stares at us with wide eyes. “A foal speaking words she should not know, and performing a ceremony she could not have learned through normal means.” We lean down to come face to the face with the startled filly, “Tell me, what is your name, young one?” I ask, casting one of my more favored spells as I do.
“S-Scootaloo,” the filly replies, shivering as my spell permeates the air around us.
“Hmmm,” We hum in thought, rising to our full height once more. I close our eyes holding the deepest darkness imaginable as the spell takes on its full effect. I can taste the filly’s fear at the realization that she might be in over her head, the exhaustion she feels crushing her, the determination she has to see her mission through to the end slowly slipping away, and underneath it all a raging current of hate and pain driving her.
I open our eyes and look at the filly before us, “Tell me… Why do you call upon my children to kill? What was taken from you?”
Scootaloo looks at the floor completely silent.
“Did someone raze your family’s land? Did they take your family from you?”
The orange filly shakes her head and remains silent.
“Then why would an earth pony such as yourself pay for a life to be taken?”
Scootaloo is silent for a moment before mumbling something I can’t quite catch.
“What was that?” I ask, crouching down in front of the filly.
Said filly looks me in the eyes after a moment of hesitation. “I said I’m not an earth pony,” she states in a voice barely above a whisper.
I stare into the filly’s eyes as I try to feel her natural magic, “...They took the sky from you,” I whisper to the wingless pegasus. The filly looks back down at the floor as a torrent of sorrow overtakes her.
“...”
I look at the foal with pity and make a decision. Calling upon my magic, I lace our voice with it and reach out to stroke the filly’s cheek. “Sleeeeeeeep,” I whisper. The filly is exhausted and her body quickly gives in to the suggestion. I catch the filly in our arms before she falls to the floor and dispel the illusion on us. I carefully walk over to the bed and place the filly upon it before stepping back and staring at her sleeping form.
“...”
I’ve been around for a long time, and have done many things that most mortals would label me a demon for. I have killed, crippled, and tortured others physically, mentally, and spiritually. I have leveled entire cities and created weapons of mass destruction because it suited my purpose at the time…
I turn and walk over to the skeleton wondering who it might have been, before throwing the thought away and picking up the dagger the filly dropped. Turning back, I walk up to the bed once again with the blade in our right hand.
“...”
I gently tilt the filly’s head up, and press the edge of the weapon to her throat.
‘It would be painless,’ I rationalize. ‘She’s already crippled for life, it would be a mercy.’
I stand frozen, holding the blade to Scootaloo’s neck.
...
……...
…………………
……………………………………
‘...What am I doing?’ I ask myself pulling the blade away with a sigh.
I am basically waging war on Equestria, I know that I will need allies to distract their army as I take my revenge on the Alicorn sisters, and yet here I am about to kill a potential ally. The filly might not be much now, but the hatred and pain she carries could make her a very valuable asset if molded correctly.
I walk to the other side of the room and lean against the wall, content to watch the filly sleep... for now.