Moonstone

by Menti Ardenti

The Next Day

The art of Illusions was first discovered by Magus Mirage . (For more information on Mirage see The Rise of the Earth Pony Queen Rosebud) Her talent to manipulate a pony’s senses gained the Magus many followers later in her lifetime. By the time of Mirage’s death, seven different types of illusions had developed. Three paths would later vanish during the great Purge, along with countless other forms of magic, but the remaining four would survive. The four types of illusions are all well practiced except for the last, glamours.
Excerpt from the History of Illusions by Quick Quill

Glamour smirked at the red stallion’s corpse on the bed. He’d been an easy mark, an arrogant stallion all alone at a crowded bar.
Still, it was time to clean up the mess, she didn’t want the guards poking around.
The tear she’d ripped with her fangs to drain him of his blood was hacked with a knife until the surrounding flesh was too mutilated to tell what had made it. Glamour then cast a simple blood replacement spell on him until the pool of blood surrounding him was reasonable enough, it would be suspicious to find a stallion with a stab wound without any blood.
The cheap hotel room he had rented for the pair was trashed to mimic a fight.

She smirked at the total mess she’d created, but there was something she had to do. The hotel had been mainly deserted when she’d arrive with, whatever his name had been, but there was a mare working the front desk that had to be taken care of. Glamour cast a notice me not spell and stayed to the shadows to avoid the ponies in town for the festivals.

One would think they’d have high enough standards to not stay in such a crappy place, but I suppose their reason is overridden by bragging rights. Moon save me if I ever stay in a hole like this just to say, “I was in Canterlot for that!”

The mare was still at the desk, snoring slightly, she’d likely been forced to pull an all nighter, Glamour doubted a place like this would have enough staff for all the ponies in town.

“Excuse me?” She rang the bell with a simpering sweet smile on her face.

“Oh, yes dear?” The mare shook herself awake.

Glamour’s pupils and irises shifted to purple with pink spiraling around hypnotically. “You’ll forget I was ever here, the stallion I was with checked in alone.” She whispered in an alluring voice.
“You were never here, the stallion checked in alone.” The mare’s eyes matched Glamour’s for an instant before she slumped back asleep. Glamour smirked as the spell did its work, she was done here. She shifted into a different disguise and disappeared among the ponies milling about.

***

Shining Armor stared at the corpse on the coroner’s table. “And you’re sure that these wounds were made during his death?” He looked at Quick Cut, whose graying mane did nothing to diminish his muscular build.

“Well that’s the problem, I can’t tell, the main wound is more decayed than the rest of the wounds, but the blood would suggest that the smaller wounds were made while he was alive, so I would assume this young stallion was alive when they happened.” The pegasus stallion carefully pointed at the deep cuts at the stallion’s throat.

Shining Armor nodded respectfully, “Well I suppose that’s that then, sorry for getting you worked up Quick, just a hunch.” Quick Cut nodded, he was already pushing the stallion back into storage.

Shining Armor exited, keeping his strides even as he made his way back to his two soldiers.

“So, was your hunch right?” Flash Sentry questioned.

“Probably, look at the way he took careful strides to look casual instead of his usual military march.” The gray earth pony mare commented.

Shining Armor rolled his eyes at this. “Yes Data, my hunch was right, now please stop analyzing me!”

She just blinked at him for a bit.

Flash looked around, eyes nervously darting across every inch of the hallway. “So, what you’re saying is that it’s another vampony, are you sure? I mean the two stallions found in the alley were obvious victims of one, but this one has no evidence. We don’t want to cause panic.”

“Flash, have you heard of Glamour, one of Lamia’s right hoof ponies?” Flash shook his head, face shocked at the mention of the most infamous vampony alive. “Well, Glamour is a powerful illusionist with a talent for mental magic. This looks like her work, a lone stallion suddenly leaves a bar and is found dead in a cheap hotel room across town the next morning.”

Data frowned. “But most reports of her are corroborated with the desk ponies, they all say the stallion was with a beautiful mare.”

Shining sighed, “That’s the thing, normally she wouldn’t bother with erasing a pony’s memory, her illusions keep her safe enough. But, in the past month, the amount of vampony attacks has increased across Equestria.”

“Wait, shouldn’t we be discussing this in the war room, where we can’t be spied on.” Flash asked.

Shining shook his head, “I don’t trust anypony there and I can’t get a private space for just a chat, I have a theory, the vamponies are preparing for something big, maybe on the Equinox Festival. The brass doesn’t agree, they just think the vamponies are getting restless and we should crack down on them, as if they didn’t learn their lesson after the incidence.” Both of his soldiers winced at the mention of the infamous event.

“So, what should we do?” Flash was nervous, understandably so.

Shining patted him on the shoulder, “Just keep your head down and your eyes open and everything will be fine.” He didn’t need to add the unspoken words, I hope.

***

Applejack awoke to the sound of a clanging pot. “Get up my pupil, you have much work to do.” Zecora commanded in one of the old dragon tongues.
“Yes ma’am.”

Apparently, work meant balancing on a pole with only one hoof, while Zecora brewed potions at a scalding temperatures. Applejack had to keep her wits about her, or otherwise she was in danger of falling into the boiling pot, which would likely severely burn her.

“Are you sure this is safe?” She asked.

“My dear, you have little to fear. You may have to use this skill in greater danger still.” Zecora replied.

Applejack didn’t quite agree with that, while Zecora may be able to mediate on the pole for hours on end without falling, she most certainly couldn’t!

Deep breaths, remember that, don’t let yourself become imbalanced.

She sighed, remembering the words Zecora had spoken to her years ago when she’d first learned of Big Mac’s betrayal. She’d been so angry she had wanted to break his bones, but Zecora had reminded her that she might regret it later, when Apple Bloom saw her as a monster, although she’d said it in nicer words for the then filly.

“Why am I meditating on a pole again?” Applejack questioned her mentor after her hoof began to ache from the pressure.
“Alchemy is an art of balance and reflection, one must know themselves first, not in retrospection.” Zecora replied in Zebric.

Applejack scowled, Zecora had been repeating that all morning. “But that’s not it, you never let me learn a lesson that easily, I have to work for it.” Zecora just smirked, confirming Applejack’s hunch. “Aha, so, this is likely more about me gaining control over my body and mind, because, if I remember correctly from yesterday’s lecture, an alchemist can be consumed by their power if they get too distracted or make a wrong glyph.”

Zecora smiled. “Yes, student of mine, that answer was practically quoted line by line. Now I have a gift for you, a book set and you can have two.”
“All right, what do I need to get the next one?” Applejack asked, well aware of Zecora’s tactic of baiting and then asking for a favor.
“You just have to get me some ingredients from Canterlot.” Zecora's replied in a camel language.

“That’s all, really?” Applejack questioned.

“Well, there is also the issue of having to go on the Equinox Festival, and that several of these ingredients are quite rare and therefore expensive, but yes, that is all you have to do.” Zecora assured her student in the main Saddle Arabian dialect.

Sure, just like the trip to Baltimare where I had to trek across the city to find herbs from Camelidae. Applejack thought, but she was most certainly not stupid enough to say that out loud, Zecora could easily take away the reward for this task.

***

Flash gave Data a glare. “I thought we were just supposed to keep our eyes open.” His gray coated companion didn’t reply, although he supposed that was kinda of hard when one was stirring some dangerous chemical mixture. Data gave it satisfied look before turning to him.

“If I am to combat some vampony disaster I need the proper tools. Not only that, but certain measurements require large funds and should I choose to utilize my bits for these precautions, I would like to be certain this was indeed a vampony attack.” She brushed an ebony colored strand of hair back as she lectured him.

Flash began, “What idiot would fake a vampony attack?”

Data tilted her head, “Three years ago, a black magic syndicate faked a series of vampony attacks, doing things such as using certain chemicals to replicate the ability of vampony salvia to preserve flesh for months or years to make it more authentic. They sold the blood to illegal practitioners of the dark arts. They only managed to catch them when an archeologist proved the blood didn't have the same magical signature as vampony salvia.”

Flash was confused, “Ok, but doesn’t that require magic?” He asked the earth pony mare.

She gave him a look that anypony could read, seriously, that’s what you take away?, but answered his question nevertheless, “There are chemical substitutions for such a spell.”

Flash paused, “Oh, I guess that's logical.” Almost too logical, Data’s habit of overthinking even a simple order as, “Keep your head down and eyes open.” spoke of a far deeper problem.

“Pass me the q-tip.” Data commanded, holding out a ready hoof.

Flash dropped the cotton tipped stick in her outstretched hoof.

She dipped it in the crimson vial she had him swipe from the morgue. Data then let a single drop of the chemical mixture hit the blood soaked up from the swab. The tip turned a bright blue that bleed down to the plastic.

“So if there is a way to detect if a vampony has bitten a pony, why don't they just pump out the blood?” Flash questioned.

“Hmm, surprisingly that's a logical question.” Data commented.

“Thanks, hey!” Flash exclaimed.

“Well, the answer is quite simple.” Data ignored Flash’s exclamation. “Vamponies are incapable of consuming blooding without a specific chemical that can be found in their saliva. While some vampiric sub species exsanguinate the victim through the use of a pump and spit in it, most are utterly incapable of keeping in control around blood. A few notable vamponies have hired ponies to do that work for them, most are don't trust other equines enough for it.”

“That was fairly simple for you.” Flash told her. “I still have one more question though, what are you going to do with the rest of that solution?”

Data gave him a predatory smile, “Why, my dear friend, I’m going to make bombs of course.”

***

Maize ran her cream coated hoof through her flaxen colored mane,making its wild appearance wilder still. The throne room, as all vamponies from the thralls to the admirals were required to call it, emanated an air of opulence and terror that seemed dedicated to the throne’s occupant. The windowless walls were adorned with murals dedicated to vamponies and the suffering of their lesser relatives, the ponies. Thick columns with a cherry red lacquer supported to roof, which arched up into an array of lights that lit up the still rather dim room. Not that Maize or anyone else was complaining, vamponies preferred the dark. The floor was made from a dark marble

The main part of the throne room was of course, the throne. Flanked by crimson drapes, the throne itself was not much more than a well carved piece of cherry wood with elegant gold filigree and shimmering rubies embed like drops of dark blood rolling down the sides. It was, however, raised on a four marble steps so that one could glare down at the snivelling masses from the seat. Beside it was a gilded goblet from which the scent of blood wine arose.

Blood wine, even the name made Maize’s nose sniff at the air in a futile attempt to find a drop of the elixir. How blood wine was made was a select art known only to a few enthusiasts and necromancy covens, both groups crossed paths more than anypony cared to admit. Had it not been for self control taught through years of punishments, Maize likely would have shoved her mistress aside and gulped the goblet’s contents down. She had no clue as to why her mistress could stand to have a goblet full of the stuff nearby and still take only small sips.

“Hem hem.” She’d forgotten who stood besides her, Bloodthorn, a loyal if arrogant pegasus. “I was wondering when Glamour would be arriving.”

Their mistress spoke, her voice deep and sultry, “I sent her out on a, uh, private mission.”

Madame Lamia was clothed in what first appeared to be silken funeral shroud from centuries long past, it’s color a brilliant red to signal a pony of importance. When a pony looked closer they could, however, see the mother of pearl clasp and understand it was little more than a decorative cloak.

A flash of light alerted her to somepony attempting to teleport into the room, Maize flicked out her hoof blade, steadying it to kill what fool, oh, it was Glamour. At least, she assumed the mare was Glamour, the blue maned mare had quickly made her hooves into the symbol only she and the other two admirals plus Madame Lamia knew.

“Glamour, I assume you brought back my blood wine?” Maize and Bloodthorn both gave a start, they knew that, as the only vampony besides their mistress who didn’t go crazy for blood or blood wine that Glamour brought back bottles of the stuff.

“Yes milady,” They all knew Glamour was old, perhaps not exactly how old, but still, old, and it sometimes seeped into her language.

“Good, after all, we wouldn’t want to be held up by something like a little daylight, would we?” The three admirals shook their heads, no, they wouldn’t.

***

The statues had been in the ruins for a long time, no of the locals knew how long, they seemed to be centuries old. One depicted a youthful unicorn mare whose face was deep in concentration, as though casting some tricky spell. The other mare appeared to be an alicorn, although the locals, simply called it the winged unicorn or the horned pegasus.
While the unicorn statue was standing on her hind legs, the alicorn statue was lying down, all peaceful like, except for the wide open eyes, frozen in fear.
And had any of the locals been brave enough to stare the statue in the eye, they might have heard Luna screaming from somewhere inside her petrified form.