The pony sitting at the desk set down his quill in deep red magic, turning to look at them. He was—Twilight almost couldn’t look away.
Twilight Sparkle had met plenty of attractive stallions since visiting Ponyville—Applejack’s older brother was built like a house, and could actually pull one if he wanted to. But so many of the Ponyville locals were like that—rugged, unrefined, raw. This Regolith was an entirely different kind of attractive. In his bright red eyes, Twilight saw a depth of understanding she’d never imagined. In his laboratory there was evidence of an intellectual equal she had never yet encountered.
Rarity kicked her, and the spell was broken. The pony was still lean and brilliant and perfect—but there was something subtly wrong here too. Like hay that had been left in the sun just a little too long.
He didn’t seem to notice. “Thank you, Lady… oh.” His eyes settled on her wings. “Oh lord, I’m sorry. Alicorn. You care about this that much, Lady Rarity? You’ll demand your friend burn her life away, so she could open my lock?”
Rarity shook her head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. We opened your door.” Though from the sound of her voice, Twilight could tell she hadn’t been expecting to find him in here. She also wasn’t aiming the crossbow at him, as she had with the vampires from before. There’s no way he wouldn’t catch the bolt out of the air. Just how powerful can a unicorn get after all these years?
“We can’t fight this pony,” Rarity whispered, her voice barely audible. “He’s older than Canterlot. Older than Celestia, even.”
“Surely your friend doesn’t need to be informed of this.” The pony rose, approaching slowly. His movements were as a smooth as a river of fresh blood. “Ponies are polite creatures. Dignified. Ordered. This is what sets us apart from the other creatures of Equus. They are mastered by their environment, we master it in turn.”
He stopped before her—taller than Twilight, despite being an alicorn. He wouldn’t have been taller than Celestia at least. Small comfort.
But despite what Rarity said, Twilight followed her eyes. She kept glancing at a glass case against the wall, under a spotlight gem. There was a tiny object resting on a velvety pillow. A little gold box.
“We’re here to make a deal,” Twilight said, her wings shuffling uneasily.
“W-we are?” Rarity’s eyes went up, and she turned to glare icicles at Twilight. “I don’t remember that part of our conversation.”
“A second time she impresses me,” Regolith said, his eyes lingering on Twilight far longer than was comfortable. She could see sharp fangs emerging from his lips. Rather than looking at her hips, or any of her other qualities—he was watching her neck. “An arrangement is a sensible way to order our world. Those who have give to those who do not have. Something of equal value must be offered in exchange. Tell me then, lady. What is worth so much to you that you would forfeit your life to come here?”
Rarity’s glare was all Twilight needed to know that she wasn’t supposed to answer. But Rarity’s plan was going to get her killed. Twilight could see the tension in this stallion’s muscles, and feel the power radiating from him. It reminded her a little of Luna, an enveloping darkness that stretched into voids unknown and unseen. But where Princess Luna made her feel the comfort of privacy and a good night’s rest, this pony provoked only dread. It was as though unseen creatures lurked around every corner, ready to pounce.
He was a predator, perhaps the oldest predator alive. Instead of breaking into his cache, they’d stumbled directly into the den.
“That,” Twilight said, pointing at the case. From the tension in Regolith’s body, she could tell that wasn’t what she was supposed to say. “N-not… not to change the world! But just for one. We want to cure one pony. That’s all.”
Regolith glared at them a moment longer. He stopped inches away from Twilight, his breath the sage and oil of an ancient tomb.
Then he looked away. “Lady Rarity—you have done my house no dishonor before today. I imagine the princess of the moon is… pleased, with your service. Is this not so?”
“It is,” Rarity said, stiffening. She didn’t retreat from him, even as he gazed down at her as he had done to Twilight. There was no distinction between what part of that hunger was predatory, and what kind might be… returned.
Celestia help me if he can sense that. Please don’t sense that. Twilight really needed to get out more.
“My friend is… new at this. She should not be here. You must forgive her for… everything.”
Then he laughed. Regolith retreated a few steps, walking straight over to the case. “You don’t know what this is, do you? You think I’ve been hoarding the secret to mortality restored, all this time? That Princess Celestia would not have heard?”
He didn’t give them a chance to answer. The glass slid open, and he removed the tiny gold box from inside, hurrying over with it in his magic.
“She may’ve been so absolute once, but the Imperatrix Solis has become a more practical ruler since her sister. She understands that eradicating darkness is an impossible standard. There can be… understanding. When deer live wild in the forest, they grow out of control—they devour the supply of young plants, and will strip the forest bare in time. Unless there are predators there. We make every member of the herd run quicker. We cull the weak and sickly before they devour resources better suited to those who contribute. If you think the same isn’t true for Equestria, you’re mistaken. Strength is not given, it is earned. Through pain, fear, and suffering.”
There is no way Princess Celestia lets you kill ponies to make the population stronger. Twilight almost spat that at him—there was some part of her that wanted to attack him right there. She resisted. “That isn’t the cure?”
“No,” Regolith answered. “Though it is an essential part of it.” He opened the box, lifting a tiny object from inside. A syringe, worked from pure gold, with a tiny glass window in the side. To Twilight’s shock, he lifted it straight to his neck, then pulled on the plunger until it was full. His blood was not red, but as black as ink, with little chunks floating within. He offered both—the box, and the syringe—to Rarity.
“W-what…”
“At a loss for words.” He smiled at them both. “We have needed this treatment so rarely that none is available for you. But the method is known—I’ll even share it with you. It’s on the lid of the box there, the underside.”
Twilight leaned to one side, lifting the lid all the way out and reading.
“To heal the ravaged soul the blood must find—a black root of Moly, powdered fine. Combine with mountain copper, deep below, until the ice has stopped its flow. What was destroyed by darkness is restored by the first touch of dawn.”
Of course it would be some stupid riddle, Twilight thought. Yet she’d just been allowed to read it. She felt dread, sudden and overwhelming. Did this mean—did this creature not intend to let them leave?
“It is not wise to feel such fear around a… predator,” Regolith said, his eyes as sharp as knives. “Calm yourself, new alicorn. Your blood has more life in it than any I have tasted in many years. It would be a… disservice for me to harm you. Celestia might never forgive me.”
“I don’t understand,” Rarity said, ignoring the exchange. This was her world, and there was no fear in her voice. “Why are you giving this to us?”
“Because the most valuable ingredient cannot be stolen.” He nodded to the vial. “No other’s blood will do, Lady Rarity. That is why Princess Celestia will never harm me. If I die, then so dies the hope for every pony… like me. I am the last of the four originators to survive. Stygian was lost before the war, Sombra devoured by the mist, Gaea Everfree fell in the Griffon Crusade. That leaves me.”
“She knows?” Rarity asked. “She knows about the—”
“She discovered it,” Regolith said, grinning as though this were the funniest thing he’d ever heard. “And now perhaps you understand the terms of our arrangement. I must share under… certain conditions. But I must be paid.” His eyes narrowed. “This is an exchange, dear ladies. I expect to be given my due.”
He turned away, hurrying over to a shelf and lifting his pen again. He scribbled something on the sheet, then folded it, sealed with a wax stamp.
He returned a moment later, offering it to Twilight. “This is for you—no, Lady Rarity, that wouldn’t be polite for you to take it. You didn’t offer the exchange, your friend did. Inside is a name. A member of my court, to whom I have come to owe a debt. You will repay that debt on my behalf, whatever its nature. Who you choose to involve and how you choose to accomplish this task is yours to decide. But if you fail…” His eyes settled on Rarity. “I know who that vial is for.”
He sat back, and an icy silence settled in the room. He spoke no overt threats—no gruesome warnings. Just a simple statement of fact.
“We understand,” Rarity said, settling the vial back into the gold box and lowering it carefully into her case. “I assume… we will be permitted to leave here. The terms of our arrangement now concluded?”
“Indeed,” Regolith said, the wide, predator smile on his face. “And Princess Twilight, word of advice. We may be colleagues for many years to come. I suggest greater discretion in the future. I may be forgiving—but many of the other noble and great ones are not. Even I would have had… harsh words to speak with you… if you had damaged my door. But I can see you didn’t, and so you yourselves may leave just as intact. Good evening.”
And that was it. A polite nod, and he had returned to his work, barely even looking at them.
He doesn’t think there’s a thing we can do to hurt him. Twilight’s eyes lingered a moment more, and any of the otherworldly attraction she had briefly felt faded. Now she felt only disgust, wondering just how many lives this monster had taken.
But it would not be taking theirs tonight.
But one day I might take yours, Regolith. I was ignorant this time, unprepared. See how helpless I am next time. Twilight was an Alicorn, even if a new one. You know what would be even better than killing you? Finding a cure that doesn't need your blood. See if I don't.
But Sweetie Belle would have to come first.
The outside of Regolith’s vault was unchanged from their last visit, with one exception. It was not in an army of waiting soldiers—those had apparently been called off, though by some magic or a simple order given while they weren’t looking, it was hard to say.
No—the strange thing was Applejack standing there, staring at the vault door as though she’d just seen a ghost.
Rarity gasped as she saw her, tumbling rather ungracefully from the doorway onto the cavern floor with a squeak of shock. “Sweet Celestia!” She rose quickly, adjusting the case beside her—it alone had remained perfectly balanced in the air beside her. “A-Applejack dear…” She looked up at Twilight, who was still crawling through the opening herself.
Twilight landed on the ground beside her a second later, a little calmer—if only because she’d got a good look at Applejack in advance.
Curiously, the farmpony seemed to be watching her with almost the same expression as Rarity, as though she thought she was guilty of something but didn’t want to verbally ask for confirmation. That’s right, I didn’t tell you about Rarity. Probably a good thing. Maybe Applejack would’ve been forced to stop her if she knew. Or maybe she would’ve tried to convince her not to save their friend.
“What are you doing here, darling?” She glanced around fearfully—but didn’t seem nearly as on-edge as she had been with Twilight. We’ve been promised a safe trip out. Something tells me the vampire will honor it.
“I, uh… I came expectin’ something,” she said. “Somethin’ I wasn’t looking forward to.” Her eyes settled on Twilight again, and for once Twilight couldn’t read her expression. Whether incredible relief or fear for what might happen, Twilight couldn’t tell. “It didn’t happen, though.”
“O-oh. That’s rather… cryptic.” Rarity glanced to one side. “Twilight, I know you ended up in a well yesterday. But I wonder if perhaps you might, uh… return us to Ponyville? You wouldn’t mind the ride, would you Applejack?”
“Nope.” She stepped closer, brushing the grave-dirt from her hooves. “Not one lick.”
“Sure.” Twilight glanced one last time at the vault door as it closed, intricate gears emerging from their slots. An incredibly complex flower of machinery closed again, as though waiting for the next adventurer to visit. “Trip back. I won’t even put us in the well this time.” She settled the envelope close to her, making sure it was within reach.
Then they teleported. Twilight had hours to recover since her last magical fight—compared to all that, this was simple. She didn’t put them in the well, but in the basement of the Golden Oaks, where she’d inscribed a circle of runes in steel and hidden it under the floorboards.
There was a pop and a flash, and suddenly the three of them were standing beside the reference section.
“We’ll speak of this again later,” Rarity said to Twilight, with a tone of exasperated politeness. “I suspect I’ll need your help with… preparations.”
She didn’t wait, and ignored Applejack’s questioning looks. “I’m going to check on my sister. I trust you’ll bear her in mind.” She glanced once at the letter. Then she left, the door banging behind her.
For a few seconds there was silence, other than the sound of tired moaning and claws shuffling on the ceiling above them. Spike was probably not expecting them to reappear in the middle of the night.
“You knew,” Applejack said, as soon as Rarity had walked away.
Twilight nodded.
Applejack blinked, wiping away tears with the edge of one leg. She sniffed, clearing her throat. “You… you did a good thing, Twi. One of the best things a friend has ever done for me.” She turned, lowering her hat far enough that it covered her face. “Don’t know how you did it—but I don’t wanna know.”
“Sure.” Twilight wiped away a little moisture of her own. Relief washed over her. The weight of the slip of paper in her magic might’ve felt like lead, but at least she’d done one good thing tonight.
Applejack cleared her throat. “Be careful… with what you did. Don’t get in a habit of angerin’ fate.”
“What good is being a princess if I can’t use it to help my friends?”
Applejack chuckled. “Don’t know. Reckon I shouldn’t be tellin’ you what to do.” She turned away. “Take care, Twi. See ya tomorrow.” She left.
Left twilight alone with the sheet of paper, and its intricate seal. Twilight walked over to the single candle burning near the window, studying the seal.
It was red wax, because of course it would be. A tree was depicted there, encircled by a massive snake. She cut the seal, then flipped the sheet open under candlelight. Well, here we go. I have to do the dark bidding of some vampire, or Sweetie Belle dies. Please don’t make me do anything too evil.
Regolith hadn’t written anything, he’d drawn a cutie mark. She need not have worried that she didn’t recognize it.
Three pink butterflies.