“SPARKLE!”
The timelines slammed together.
The named mare jumped.
Materializing just down the street, Twilight stomped towards her surprised sister. “How dare you! You were bleeding to death the last time I saw you and the next time I hear anything from you, this is all I get?”
Twilight shoved the letter in its author’s face. To say it was short was an overstatement. The entire contents of the letter read:
Twilight,
I survived. I got a new leg, got pardoned, and got a job! Love you!
~Sparks
It was understandable, then, that the more expressive of the sisters would be upset with her mildly abrasive and emotionally guarded counterpart for such a pathetic attempt at easing the former’s worries. “I don’t know whether to hug you or strangle you,” Twilight admitted.
“Can we start with the hugging?” Sparkle asked hopefully.
Some, but not all, of Twilight’s anger subsided. “Fine. But if something like this ever happens again, I’m strangling you first.”
“That’s understandable,” Sparkle said. Then she tilted her head towards the grocery bags floating in her magical grasp and the ponies walking around them on the sidewalk. “Can we go somewhere less crowded?”
“Sure.” Twilight nodded. “How about that small park near here?”
“Good enough as anywhere,” Sparkle replied. “Still wish we could still live in the same house. Would have made this meeting thing so much easier.”
“I know.”
With one teleportation each, they appeared in the park, near a stallion in a gray suit. Idly, they strolled forwards until they found a nice, shaded spot under a tree. Continuing as if they hadn’t just changed locations, Twilight suggested, “You could always just kick Trixie out of the Golden Oaks and come live with me.”
Sitting down, Sparkle chuckled. “There are many things wrong with that statement. You know what’s less wrong? You kicking the other ponies out of my apartment and living there.”
“Ok, I admit that I didn’t think that one through,” Twilight said. She sat down in the soft grass of the park. A gentle breeze blew across their fur, bringing with it the scent of numerous fall flowers. The sun shone warmly across their bodies, although Twilight took significantly more pleasure from the sensation than Sparkle did. “I like your leg. It suits you.”
Sparkle smiled. “Thanks. It cost a pretty bit, though. Fully custom, with the bones of my old leg incorporated into it. It reacts with my magic and my nerves, so it moves and feels like the real thing. Well, almost. The good thing is that since it has my own bones, I could use them to hold some extra enchantments.”
“Now I’m glad magic can’t cross over,” Twilight said. “How badly would a pony be cursed if they touched it?”
“It causes severe spastic paralysis and calcifies the soft-tissue of anyone who takes it forcefully,” Sparkle replied. “After all, the last person who took my leg ended up petrified; why not them, too?”
“Please tell me it’s reversible.”
Sparkle nodded. “If they drop it before it finishes, yes.”
Twilight shuddered. “I’ve been petrified by a cocatrice before. Let me tell you, that is a nightmarish scenario.”
“Petrified by a cocatrice?”
“I got better.” Twilight shrugged. “Anyway, a pardon and a job? How did you manage that? Not to say that I’m not really happy for you - because I am - but that seems really unlikely.”
“Well, it all started when Celestia decided to punish me for killing your friend and Trixie.” Sparkle then proceeded to explain in detail exactly what had happened between the Discord event and now. “... and so I figured that if a vampire civil war was coming, I’d at least try to get the most out of it.” Sparkle’s expression turned darker. “They’re just lucky that they asked when they did, and are paying what they are. I don’t know if I would have said no if BLACKBLOOD approached me first.”
A brief moment of silence passed between them, with only the sound of the wind and the city in their ears. “So, there’s mass government corruption, an impending civil blood war, and you being... you.”
“And what’s that supposed to mean?”
“Well, I was going to say that you were being greedy, manipulative, and borderline psychopathic with that description of your motives,” Twilight said, shrugging, “but then I realized that that was just you being you.”
Through exaggeratedly clenched teeth, Sparkle hissed, “I love you, too, sister. Why don’t you let me hug you?”
Twilight just rolled her eyes. “Yes, yes. Why don’t we settle for you sending me Celestia’s notes so I can get a jump on fixing my Equestria. Good? Good.”
False anger evaporating, Sparkle saluted. “Ma’am, yes ma’am.”
Mere days after she had been threatened death by hug-induced-asphyxiation courtesy of her sister, Sparkle once more entered the barracks of Squad Six. She dropped a thick manilla folder on Fine Cut’s desk. The combat surgeon set his quill back in the inkwell and picked up the folder. “What is this?” he wondered aloud as he flipped through it.
“My plan for how to support you,” she explained. “Blood wine regiments, ritual enhancements, surgical procedures, the works. I’m only really dangerous in a fight if I can hit indiscriminately, have time to set curses, or if I can weave my illusions from a safe distance. Most of what I know is better suited for support roles.”
As he continued to flip through the surprisingly thick packet, Fine cut boggled. “This... this is a lot of detailed stuff. Weren’t you allied with us just the other day? How the blazes did you have time to write all this?”
Sparkle blushed sheepishly. “Ehehe... truth be told, I’ve had most of this packet finished for a long time. I had lots of free time to just think. Anyway, If the covens had decided they wanted me, I’d use these plans on the highest bidder’s members.”
“Highest bidder... you’re in it for the money, aren’t you? Wait, of course you are. Everypony in the guard who’s taken your DADA class always mentions you accepting bribes.” He blinked, realizing something. “How did we get you, then?”
“Ironwood was very convincing.” Sparkle paused. “And, there may or may not have been the little fact that Celestia wiped my criminal record clean and is paying my rather exorbitant service fee.”
“Mercenaries,” the Night Guard muttered. “Anyway, you can really do all this?”
“Absolutely."
Setting the folder down, Fine Cut placed hoof on his temple and massaged. “We’ll need to get the Princess Luna’s approval on more than half of this, you know.”
Sparkle replied, “I know.” She picked up the folder with her magic and started towards the door. “You coming? I’d rather not need to explain this more than I have to.” Then she turned and left the room.
“Buck,” the vampire muttered too softly for the receding mare to hear. “And they say I overuse checklists.”
In the first chair sat Swift Shade, the youngest vampire in the room at only ninety-two. As her name would suggest, the pitch-black unicorn was packed with lean muscles; she definitely had a runner’s build. Her friend whispered something into her ear, and she snickered softly at the joke.
Her friend, often confused with her in name to those unfamiliar with them, was “Splatter” Swiftwing. Never without her signature grin, the mirthful pegasus reclined in her seat as they waited for this meeting to start.
Across the table from them sat Night Eyes. However, it would be more accurate to say that he lounged, as he never seemed to exert more effort than needed. Perhaps it was because of the long scar clean across the middle of his barrel, which had never healed despite his vampiric regeneration. Did it cause him pain? The rest of Squad Six didn’t know.
On Night’s left sat Aurora Borealis. Mane the colors of his namesake, the pegasus engaged in quiet, carefree conversation with Alabaster, the unicorn on Aurora’s left. Rather, it was Aurora who had the quiet part of the conversation. Alabaster was being as boisterous as ever, though that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, in Aurora’s opinion.
Through their talk of past adventures, Aurora eventually brought up his expedition to the frozen north, far beyond even the snow-buried ruins of the Crystal empire’s outer region, and the crater that was left of the inner region. And when he talked of the north, he talked of the Auroras in the sky. Something shiny was mentioned, Shadow Weaver would pop up.
One of the oddest of the bunch, Shadow Weaver was obsessed with shiny things, even just talking and thinking about them. It made sense, then, that his obsession had morphed into kleptomania. Splatter had once speculated that Shadow Weaver would try to steal the sun one day, and nopony had been able to figure out if she was joking or not.
The whole group was seated around a card table in their shared barracks and waiting on two ponies: Dr. Fine Cut, and their resident necromancer, Sparkle.
Sparkle’s head popped out of the table.
“Hey guys! Wanna see a dead body?”
“WHAAA!!” They all jumped, except for Night Eyes, who most definitely did not scream like a little filly.
Sparkle’s head levitated off of the table, trailing black smoke as it moved. The smoke cloud swiftly grew. By the time it had cleared over the group, it was as large as and solidifying into two ponies. Materializing, she pointed to Fine Cut, who had appeared next to her while mid-eye-roll.
“Bwahaha! You’re funny,” Shadow Weaver declared between deep sets of laughter. "I like your style, kid."
Sparkle smiled. "Jokes aside, Fine Cut and I just got back from speaking with Princess Luna." Pulling out a folder that was significantly thinner than the one Fine Cut had at first seen, she opened it to the first item. "These are the procedures and spells that I am allowed to use on you, should you want them. We'll go over each of them in detail, but first I have to check something regarding each of your vampiric curses. This will just take a few minutes, but don't be surprised if this is a blank in your memory, ok?"
"What?"
Sparkle's horn darkened. The eyes of all seven vampires in the room immediately glazed over, lulled into a trance by the powerful psychic in their midst. In ancient unicornian, the language of magic, the necromancer uttered, "I search the world, hungry. My mouth is bound and I crave blood."
In unison and without further prompting, they replied, "I stand alone, without the glutton to drive me."
Getting a positive response, Sparkle said the next key phrase. "I hunt my prey. Without my pack, I cannot eat."
They replied, "I stand alone, without the beast beside me."
"I stalk my victims through the night. The light of the morning sun reveals me," she intoned.
"I stand alone, eating my own wings to tame my monstrous self."
By this point, Sparkle was thoroughly excited. Each of these phrases was tied into the very magic that made them vampires. From their responses, she could tell that not only were her books correct, but that these vampires around her would all be great recipients of her magic. Taking a breath, she uttered the last and most important phrase, "In the field of the dead I stand. They have fallen, and heed not my call."
"I am the abomination, waiting to answer the call of my nameless master," they answered.
The magic gathered at the tip of Sparkle’s horn pulsed, and then again, and again. With each pulse, a thread of magic connected her to one of the vampires' souls, and then to the curse within. Slowly and methodically, and with no room for error, Sparkle appended new magic to their vampirism.
She was glad that she had told them to meet here and now; it had given her time to set up enough perception-altering wards to keep anypony from accidentally stumbling upon them as she worked. Her spellcasting was delicate, taking ten minutes each to apply the additions. But it would be worth it.
Vampires were created as a slave race for necromancers of ages past. With their masters able to create blood wine as a food and reward, grant them temporary power to do their bidding, and control them when they disobey, vampires were nearly the perfect servants.
At least until they found that creating new vampires didn’t pass on the control, but that’s a rebellion story for another time. As long as she didn’t exercise that control, there wouldn’t be a problem. Slaves couldn’t rebel if they didn’t know they were slaves, and had no reason to rebel, after all.
The last of Sparkle’s spells finished its task. "I claim you, unsworn. Heed my voice."
They nodded as their magic clicked into place. "It will be done, mistress."
A small part of Sparkle said that this was very wrong. She knew she should have gone with another option first. Something less invasive, like carving runes on their bones or some such thing. But an unusually loud part of her, different than the first, countered that this was just the way things needed to be. This power she’d given them just now could save lives, she justified.
Then, one-by-one, the vampires woke up from their hour-long trance. "What happened?" Aurora asked as he readjusted his tinted glasses.
"Vampires have four power limiting seals on them from the moment they are created. I was checking their condition," she said, completely truthfully. "You all are good. After I show you the powers and drawbacks of opening them, I'll make your keys."
So what if she found it prudent to neglect to tell them that the final three seals needed them to be bound to a master, and couldn’t be opened without her continuous consent? So what if giving them power gave her power over them? So what if she was toying with the idea of doing this to the rest of the Red Platoon? So what?
Perhaps things would have been different had she not felt the strain of poverty, and the shackles of powerlessness. Perhaps it was the lack of parents to shelter her from the brunt of the world. Perhaps it was society, robbing her of the chances to follow her old dreams. Whatever the case may have been, Sparkle placed value in control. Her appetite for power whetted, the false-dragoness in pony skin hissed in delight. So what, indeed?