“What you learned so far?” Renoir asked, clean of the blood that had coated nearly every surface of his suite. He and the others, including Princess Cadence and Twilight Velvet, stood in one of the castle's training rooms. Twilight Sparkle thought for a moment, pondering not only the lessons she had learned studying under the humans, but also the grave reality of her situation.

“That Tamriellic magic in inherently dangerous, and without proper training, it will be the death of me,” she said, sharing a look with her teachers. It was one of sympathy, a mutual understanding that could only be had between the survivors of a great tragedy or those fighting cheek to cheek in horrific battle; whether they would live to see the light at the end of the tunnel was another story entirely. “With the eyes of a Daedric Prince on me, I will need to not only learn your world's magics, but master them in order to better defend myself.”

“Knowledge is the key to any endeavor,” Reman replied, nodding in approval. “The key to Conjuration and Alteration is focus, a methodical understanding of the energy with which one works.” He clasped his hands together in front of him, and pulled them apart to reveal a miniature maelstrom of purple magicka. He clenched one hand around an unseen handle, and the swirling vortex began to take shape, shrieking like the wind as it warped into the rough shape of a sword. In a flash, the weapon shattered, and the excess magicka left a trail of minor cuts up his arm, ending just before his shoulder. “Improper summoning techniques can be disastrous.”

“The waters of Oblivion are treacherous and full of unseen danger,” Twilight finished, recalling the line from a particular book. She knew too well that a mistake in summoning a familiar had alerted Hermaeous Mora to her existence. Because of her impatience, she now had to play the waiting game until the Prince decided to make his move, and hope she was ready by then. “Only through years of meditation and study can they be traversed.”

“The key to Destruction and Restoration, Schools whose very natures are in direct opposition to each other, is passion.” Renoir made his point by creating a ball of flames in one hand, while his other held a golden orb of healing magic. “Black and white, night and day, but beyond good and evil.” He slammed his hands together, dispelling the energies in a flourish of color, but leaving himself completely unharmed. “Magic is a tool, and can bring either great joy or unknowable suffering.”

“The hand that wields it determines how it influences the world,” Twilight echoed, already understanding the day's lesson. Training, at least according to the humans, meant paying equal attention to the mind and body; today was philosophy, meaning tomorrow would combat training, where she would be expected to use her developing magicka reservoir to defend herself against her teachers.

“Today's lesson shall be about Destruction magic that heals the user, and Restoration magic that can be used to subdue or kill,” Renoir announced, grinning. “Followed by making sure Reman can summon something without making it explode.”

@#@#@#@#@#@#

Fluttershy and Summer Glade were not what one might expect when thinking of friends, but as they began the two-hour flight to Ponyville, a route that would allow them to return to the palace before sundown, they kept at a pace that minimized difficulty for each other. “Remind me why we're doing this,” Glade shouted over the wind, hoping her yellow comanion could hear her.

“I've been worried about Pinkie ever since she got that staff,” the Element of Kindness replied, her voice straining to carry over the howling air. Pinkie hadn't been quite herself since she got her hooves on Wabbajack, as Renoir had called it. Apparently, it was a Daedric artifact with unpredictable powers, a quality it owed to its creator, Sheogorath. Fluttershy wondered if Glade knew the staff's true nature, or if Reman had neglected to tell her. “I've just got a bad feeling about it is all.”

“I'm sure she's fine,” Glade answered, fairly certain that no charm or curse could put a damper on the dynamo that was Pinkie Pie. Even as the town grew before her eyes, she felt no dread or apprehension, something she had come to expect when approaching danger. As such, she was sure Fluttershy's concern was unwarranted.

They circled overhead a few times to ensure there was no danger, but found the town empty. Ponyville was a fair-sized town, yet there wasn't a soul in the streets. The pair touched down on Sunset Avenue, the road branching to the northwest from the town's center, and still had yet to see anypony. Glade motioned for Fluttershy to stay close, and readied herself to transform if it came down to it. Windows were shuttered and some had planks nailed over them.

“What do you think made those?” Glade asked, pointing to a number of long, deep furrows torn through the boards blocking a door. Whatever made them must have gotten bored and stopped, but that left a motive to be discovered. Monsters were common in Equestria, and many of them had claws sharp enough to tear a fully armored guardspony to ribbons, but most of those were either aquatic or gigantic; the marks were too big to belong to anything smaller than a large manticore, but were too numerous to be a small basilisk, and the strength required to rip not only through the wooden door, but the brick surrounding it, was outside the range of most anything.

“Nothing good,” Fluttershy replied, getting as close to Glade as she could. Whatever it was, it was ground-bound, or it would have attacked the windows instead of the reinforced doors. She knew better than most that, while not on the same cognitive level of ponies and other sapient species, the majority of Everfree predators had a certain cunning about them, something that made staying in place to defend nearly impossible for any extended period of time.

They crept through the town, eyes darting about so they could at least see what else was skulking the streets. The veterinarian ran the possibilities through her mind while her lycan companion sniffed the air for any clue she could find. It was eerily silent, as though even the wind wished to aid in their search. With their nerves on edge, the sound of a trashcan falling over nearly made them leap from their skins.

“Fluttershy!” a female voice called in what could liberally be called a whisper.

“Rarity?” she asked, turning her head to see her friend. The white unicorn looked ragged and worn, though she had only been in town for, at most, a day. “What happened?”

“Oh, it's simply a nightmare!” she answered, before clamping a hoof over her own mouth. She quickly looked around, her nerves evidently frayed beyond the everyday stresses of living near the Everfree. “We can't talk here.”

“Then where?” Glade wondered, loosing the dagger on her her leg. She doubted it would do much against something that could rend stone, but it was better than nothing.

“Follow me.”

@#@#@#@#@#@#

“You're inviting a what to my castle?” Celestia asked as kindly as she could. Renoir stood before her, though it was hardly a formal setting. They were passing in the hall when he mentioned he had invited a vampiress he'd met in the sewers. The princess knew they existed, the murders last night had been evidence enough of that, but a shepherd did not invite a wolf into her pasture.

“In the interest of peace, I assure you.” Peace that went against everything the Belmont stood for, but peace was always preferable to prolonged bloodshed.

“There can be no peace when monsters lurk beneath our streets,” she all but shouted. The extermination had been carried out for the greater good of ponykind, a hoofful of bodies amongst the foundation of a safer world.

“I've checked your records,” Renoir retorted, pulling a stack of papers from his cloak. He'd broken in after Twilight's meditation session, which gave him plenty of time to access private information. “These are the first deaths fitting vampire attacks that have been reported in nearly forty years; they've been feeding bagged since the invention of transfusions.”

“A single death in a hundred centuries is too many,” Celestia calmly replied, hoping to use her royal presence to persuade the vampire.

“Then I suppose you'll be killing every large predator your world has, as well?” Renoir let his question hang in the air. A large deficit of higher predators would devastate the ecosystem, which could result in famine, or worse, as smaller creatures were allowed to flourish. “My family hunted vampires because they were a danger; these are not.”

“Then they are still guilty of taking donated blood.” In response to her accusation, he pulled another piece of paper from some unseen pocket.

“Let's say that there are one hundred of them living beneath Canterlot,” he began, though Celestia sickened at the prospect. “The average vampire of my size and age can survive on as little as two pints per week without feeling withdrawal effects.” He looked at the sheet in his hands before continuing. “Given the sexual dimorphism of ponies, we'll use the stallions to make the numbers a little more realistic. Most of your guards come up to about my navel, so they have a size roughly equivalent to me, though a measurable lack of weight. At most, accounting for celebrations and the occasional splurge, equals two-hundred-fifty pints per week.”

“Enough to save scores of ponies who need it.”

“Barring war, the donation rate still exceeds the rate of consumption to accident and crime. The system could take triple the vampires' weekly take before suffering a shortage.”

Beneath the surface, Celestia was conflicted. Vampires had been a terrible plague centuries ago, the spawn of some intangible evil. It was genetic, to an extent, and perhaps some abomination of nature instead of made for the purpose of destroying the living. Vampires, occasionally, bred with mortal ponies and created the bat ponies, who were completely immune to the curse, so it was possible to attribute the entire thing to disease.

It Renoir was telling the truth, the vampires were civilized enough to warrant citizenship. Their immortality would make them excellent teachers and scientists, with an eternity to learn and pass on their knowledge. Their strength and endurance made them ideal laborers, though the sun posed a very serious problem for them. From what Luna had hinted last night, they seemed to be living in the sewers, or possibly held night jobs around Canterlot, so it was possible they already had their own, illicit place in society.

On the other hoof, the same qualities which proved useful made them extremely dangerous. King Sombra, whom Celestia had originally thought to be the curse's source, was proof enough. He had nearly an eternity to study the dark arts of necromancy and mind-controlling magics, and enslaved an entire empire with the aid of his extensive clan. It has taken everything Celestia and her sister had to cleanse the Crystal Empire, and Sombra finally met his fate mere months ago, after a millennium of hiding in the shadows.

“The time to make a decision is upon you, princess; she should already be on her way to my suite.”

@#@#@#@#@#@#

“Oh, it's simply awful, Fluttershy,” Rarity said, immediately hugging her friend. About a dozen ponies were crowded in the spa's front room, with more hiding out of sight. Glade didn't like the idea of being holed up until help arrived, if it ever did. “The monster came out of nowhere, burst from Sugarcube Corner's front. Everypony ran, but it got some of them.”

“We didn't see any bodies,” Glade said, confused for a moment. The only thing that would explain the lack of corpses was the creature in question eating them, but there would be blood if it had.

“It swallowed them whole,” a pink, earth pony mare said, stepping forward. She looked pale and nauseated as she spoke, but continued. “It look the Flower triplets first, then disappeared into an alley. Everypony hid after the first attack, and we haven't been able to get word to the princesses.”

“Spike's in Canterlot,” Fluttershy said, putting the pieces together and getting a horrifying picture. The attack was perfectly timed, with two Elements out of town and the quickest method of calling for help dozens of miles away. “Where's Rainbow?”

“Cloudsdale,” Aloe answered, sticking her head from behind the counter. “Weather command called her in as soon as she came to town; she missed everything.”

“Almost every pegasus is gone, and those left are either too old or too young to make the trip,” Lotus finished. This had to have been planned; there was simply no other way a monster could have just appeared, not when the town was the most vulnerable. Worried murmurs spread through the townsponies, none of whom seemed too keen on making the trip themselves.

Glade realized they needed a plan, fast.

Author's Notes:

Poll: Should Celestia kill the vampires, or allow them to live?