Azure Flame

by Silver Page

Crypt Walker

Author's Note:

Taking a break from the Gala~! Taking a break from the Gala~! I'm taking a break from the Gaaaallllaaaa~! I don't write parties that well! (Read in sing-song voice)
Okay, next chapter continues the Gala. Until then...

The sky was a strange, dark color. Not truly night, but not day either. Looking up, Vandal could see the source of the twilight-esque lighting; an eclipse, the moon blocking the sun and casting a flickering corona of shadows across the landscape. He stared up at the moon, and in response, a massive eye slowly opened up on the surface of the celestial orb. The pupil was a pulsing black void surrounded by a golden iris, and the rest was a deep, dark purple that was veined with red the color of blood. The eye stared down upon the Dragon, who was no longer small and crippled.

He was enormous, easily three hundred feet or more in length. The white scales of his body were vibrant silver that seemed to burn with a white flame of their own. Along his neck and back, down to his lashing tail, sharp, golden spikes ran, the twilight shadows casting unusual lighting effects upon them, which made them look dirty and worn. His claws on his hands and feet were the same golden color as his spikes, and upon his head, golden fins formed a crown-like appearance on him. His eyes were also golden, though the right one bled inky darkness. And most glorious, to him at least, was the massive pair of wings that sprouted from his back. Easily twice the length of his own body, the membrane was opaque like quartz crystal, and it reflected the twilight around him into a twisted dance of light and dark.

As the eye looked down on the restored Dragon, Vandal stared back up into its eternal depths. He felt the gaze of a vast and powerful being upon himself, and he shivered. The eye looked down upon him and the world like he would upon and insect. It existed, but was not worth his time or energy. If it wanted, he could crush it to dust. Such was the feeling of the eye.
But in the eye, he saw visions. Dark, terrible prophecies and omens, and fates worse than death. But the longer he looked, the more frequent a certain sequence was before him.

A white Unicorn stallion with a golden blonde mane. His Cutie Mark was a purple and gold compass rose, and he stood defiant against countless odds. He traversed a blasted wasteland of sun scorched rocks. He climbed rearing mountains and forded swift rivers. He frantically hacked his way through a jungle as dark as it was dangerous, pursued by things better left unseen. He stood in a cavern and ran down its paths towards the city of M’Ko. He fought Vandal’s weak and cursed body, and was victorious. He triumphed over Dark Phoenix, and shared a passionate kiss with another Unicorn. A mare, one of the Elements of Harmony, to be precise. These images came to him, and Vandal roared with anger, gouts of golden fire burst from his maw as he raged towards the uncaring eye in the eclipse.

Vandal awoke with a start, panting as he looked around himself in a panic. His breathing slowed, and he sighed with relief and a touch of sadness. He was still trapped in a feeble body, but he was safe in his bed in the Mole city.
He blinked his eyes to clear the sleep from them, and winced as searing pain shot though his right eye. It was oozing black tar at a rapid pace, which immediately dissipated to smoke and steam in the air. The Dragon was not concerned about hat. It was always like that after showing him the visions of the eclipse-eye and the future.

Obtaining the eye had been a trial and quest all rolled into one, and the side effects of it were painful and often annoying, yet Vandal was glad of it all the same. He had torn out his right eye and offered it to the Tree of Harmony years after he had been cursed and banished, and several decades after the Fruits of Harmony had been plucked by the Alicorn sisters to make their precious Elements. The price for gaining such powers that he know had was steep, but he needed them to complete his goal.

Visions of the future was a fraction of the powers bestowed upon him, and Vandal had used them for years to alter the course of history to his needs. The great Necromancer, Grogar, would have succeeded in destroying the world over two thousand years ago, had Vandal not used his visions to influence those who would and could destroy him. Sombra would not have risen to power had Vandal not carefully plotted and planned for years to drive the Unicorn King mad and use him as a distraction.

Vandal smirked. The Nightmare would never have been able to possess Luna had he not given it power, and weakened the mind and resolve of the Blue Princess. All was going according to plan, but now…

Now a new vision had appeared, one of his own defeat at the hands of none other than Prince Blueblood. Prince bucking Blueblood! He was to defeat him?! He was Vandal, slayer of one thousand Alicorns and the Scourge of the Savior City! He had fought the mad god Discord and helped imprison it in an alternate dimension composed entirely of pain and sorrow! He had fought the great Fire Elemental Elibas the Dark Blaze and won! And he was to meet his end at the horn and hooves of a mere prince?!

Rage, dark and terrible, filled the Dragon, and he rose from his bed and stomped over to his mirror. His torn, ruined eye glowed purple, and the glass surface rippled and distorted, and he stepped through the make-shift portal into a new location.
It was dark, not a single spark of light anywhere. No windows or doors, no candles or torches. Just darkness. Vandal was not worried, for his cursed eye gave his the sight he needed.

He stood in a vast vaulted chamber, thick cobwebs hanging everywhere, and thick stone coffins littering the floor. Many were cracked and broken from the effects of time, yet some still remained whole. They were massive, designed for all kinds of Ponies. Earth Ponies, Pegasi, Unicorns. But they were not the ones it had been built for. This was the Sanctum, where all Alicorns who had ever lived were buried. The other Ponies entombed here were wives and husbands of the Alicorns, given the honor of burial alongside their spouses and lovers. Pillars, large and fluted, carved and engraved with images of the life and times of the ponies down here, were set up seemingly randomly in the fathomless darkness. There was no way to tell which direction you were walking or where you were in the Sanctum, but Vandal followed a path he knew, one he had rarely tread. But this was a special occasion, of sorts.

“It’s rare that you come and call upon my services, old friend,” a voice, laden with the promise of pain, echoed forth from the walls around Vandal. The Dragon looked with distain at the catacombs he stood in; the bodies that had been placed here in ages past were naught but dust, and all that remained now were cracked stone coffins and dusty, crumbling remains. It was a place that seemed cliché for a meeting with an assassin, yet here he was.

“You have your uses, worm. But you also have your dangers.” Vandal looked over at a certain grave, the echoing having no effect on his acute hearing. From behind the faded marble tomb, a thin creature wrapped in rags and tattered robes appeared, rusted chains trailing behind it attached to its ankles. The creature, whatever it was, had no form that could be identified. It was bipedal, but was so hunched over its arms dragged like a pair of legs all of their own. Its features were obscured by worn, moth-eaten fabric that formed a hood, though two orbs of piercing blue light looked out upon the world.

Its flesh was so thin and pale and stretched so tight that its bones were clearly visible. No hair could be seen anywhere, though admittedly a lot of it was covered in dirty, ragged clothes. It walked upon feet that were lizard like, but had two toes instead of three like Vandal. Hands that were not quite like those of a Minotaur dragged on the floor of the catacomb, raising a trail of dust.

“What do you want?” the creature asked Vandal, and the Dragon smirked.

“There is somepony I want you to kill. I have seen him in a vision; he will be a thorn in my side and a threat to the success of my mission. He must die. And you must be the one to do it.”

“And why is that? You have many assassins at your beck and call, and enough gold to purchase one if you so desire. Why use me?”

Vandals smirk grew into a wide grin of madness and hate.

“Because I want him to suffer. I want him to curse my name. I want him to hate me, fear me. I want him to know that all he loves will be crushed and dragged through the mud. I want him to go mad with anguish. And only you can do so.”

The mysterious monster nodded, and for a brief moment, there was a grinding sound, as if bones were grating against stone. Slowly, he doubled over, his hunch extending yet also flattening out, his feet shrinking and the toes closing up. His arms shrunk and his fingers splayed while fusing together. Lastly, a muzzle poked through the hood, yet the eyes remained hidden. In moments, the bipedal beast that had stood before Vandal was gone, and replacing it was something that vaguely resembled an Earth Pony. Its skin was still the same, no coat to hide the hideous deformation or the seemingly bare bones.

Vandal nodded in approval, and pointed a finger at the biped turned pony.

“You shall be known as Bane in this form. You will answer only to me, and you will bring pain to the one whom I wish to suffer.” With slow precision, Vandal raised a claw and plunged it into his right eye, the black ooze gathering around his digit, and he quickly retracted his hand, lowering it in front of the newly named Bane. A tongue, thin and prehensile and certainly not of a Pony, lashed out and lapped up the black blood on the end of the claw.

“Your target is Prince Blueblood DeMarco Regitas. I want you make his life miserable before you end it.” Bane bowed its head, and suddenly began to sink into the floor of the catacombs.

“Our contract is complete,” Bane said, though his voice came from all around. Vandal smiled a wicked smile, and chuckled as his assassin disappeared from sight.

Comments

[SageBrony07]

Wow. Look out Blueblood.

[Frankie2]

As assassin that drives you into madness and despair before he kills you. As if Blueblood doesn't have enough problems. I have a feeling the assassin will succeed in causing madness and despair, but only Rarity will be able to bring him back.

[amiamera]

Ooo, I hope this is the self-fulfilling prophesy type because visions of the future obviously don't take into account that you have visions of the future and would take action ;)

[Macedoneus]

A romantic slice of life story that shows Blueblood in a positive light, explains his actions at the Gala in a reasonable manner, and even has an interesting 'alternate identity' bit thrown in! Awesome, I'll read the heck out of that!

Wait... anarchists, plot to overthrow all royals no matter what, cliched 'forget actually doing something useful and permanent to that dangerous threat, let's just force our descendants to deal with it' background for the villain.... and an actual villain. What the hell just happened?

I am not seeing the romantic or slice of life. The mention of the anarchist that took out Blueblood's parents I can get, an isolated incident to flesh out his background sure. But why is there the whole "Darkness will rise" thing going on in a [Romantic] [Slice of Life] story? Not what I signed on for, sorry.

[Amethyst Blade]

The worst enemy of a villian is of their own making. And you, my friend, are the villian in this story.