Panicked breath and trembling hooves charged down a beaten path, echoing into the stinging cold of the dead night. The mare had been running for so long, ever since she found herself too exhausted to teleport. But despite the immense span of ground she’d covered, the resolve of her pursuer had not wavered. Then again, neither had her own. And neither had the pursued. The snap of a branch spurred the unicorn to whirl around, sparkling embers erupting from her horn like a lit fuse. Begotten from the charge was a flare of light along with shrieking flames and sparks, almost like a massive roman candle, which rocketed through the air and ignited a sapling she’d run past.

Hot air and wayward embers rolled across her panting muzzle, frightful eyes quickly crisscrossing the immediate area; both hoping and dreading to identify something. Unfortunately, it was that same something whose eye shine was glinting in the flickering fire light. Stoically walking past the flames, an obscured figure calmly approached the now fleeing unicorn. The voice of Countess Mircalla practically within her ears told the mare that the vampiress was easily keeping pace with her panicked sprint towards Canterlot.

“Give me the child.”

The vampire hissed in a low, cold tone largely devoid of emotion. The mare clutched the bundle nested within the sling around her neck close to her, firing another flare of magic at the flock of bats following her.

“No! What do you want with her?! Somepony help!”

The mother screamed as she ran through Canterlot’s back gates. But Mircalla, in the form of dozens of bats to equal her body mass, easily dodged around the magic burst that scorched the earth behind her. She flapped her chorus of wings, closing in on the mother mare while the latter was clearly tiring herself out screaming for help and firing increasingly weaker magic blasts.

“I do not, but others do. I’m just following orders.”

Mircalla grumbled through magical speech across the horde of bats. After dodging another blast that was little more than a spark show, the bats clustered back together and reformed into the vampire’s body mid-flight. Mircalla fell sideways, landing upon a wall and standing up straight while sticking to the stonework. She wasn’t in any particular rush to get this done,the market district they were in was going to be empty until morning, and the celebration across town meant there was nopony around to hear anything.

The unicorn wheezed, stumbling through a jumble of boxes and crates to push herself from one section of the marketplace and into another. It took all magic she had left to used one last magic blast to bust the gate to the main street open. Her body was beyond expended, shaking with every motion from strained muscles and the overuse of magic had left her with a migraine and a searing, cracked horn. At this point, most anyone would have collapsed from the pain and been immobilized by an expended body. But a desperate parent isn’t “most anyone”. She forced her way through the gate, one of her legs giving out beneath her and causing her to half drag her way into the street. She looked back and saw the glowing eyes of Mircalla looking back at her through the shadows of the building the vampire was walking across.

“Give. Me. The Child. Last time I ask.”

The vampire hissed with narrowed orbits. The unicorn however just desperately clawed her way down the road.

-Have to get to Celestia, I’ve come this far and she can protect her. I have to get to Celestia!-

The celebrations' happy music was distant but audible, the pinpricks of far lights crossing the dark street. The mother’s hope was shattered even as she threw herself at the long stretch of road she’d have to go down to find someone.

-I won’t make it….-

She winced in her stumbling run, tears streaming down from her eyes as her baby started to cry. A desperation beyond destitution stung in her voice, a plea to an attacker she knew she couldn’t outrun here in the end.

“Ple-Please she’s just a baby!”

The mother held her daughter close, the sound of many flapping wings ringing out all around her. The swarm of bats flew through the gate and circled the unicorn as she tried to shush and rock her sobbing, terrified infant. Mircalla reformed from half of the swarm, glaring at the mare who she’d been chasing for dozens of kilometers.

“Others would show none of the restraint I have.”

The rest of the bats fell into place, forming the vampire’s hindquarters and back. Mircalla maintained a stoic glare, looking down at the crying bundle clung around her mother’s throat.

“And you and I both know she’s no ordinary infant.”

Mircalla put a hoof around the bundle, the mother feebly trying to force it away. Not discouraged, Mircalla looked into the unicorn’s eyes and hissed. She grabbed the mare and held her close, locking gazes. A red flash crossed the vampire’s vision and the unicorn found herself frozen in place, her body willed against her to be like a statute. Grunting, Mircalla undid the sling and took the crying infant into her own grasp. She beheld the infant's yellow-furred face capped with a fiery-hued mane, like the rays of burning sunshine she hadn’t been able to behold in centuries.

She sighed lowly, looking down at the frozen, crying face of the mother unicorn with a complicated, but unreadable expression. Her face cringing and not wanting to make eye contact anymore. She looked back at the infant and the baby opened her beady eyes to quiveringly stare back. Countess Mircalla repeated a familiar mantra dryly.

“For my master… To bring about the last shimmer of sunset.”

Back in the present day, Nightmare Mircalla let the reflection of the burning pillar of magic flicker across her eyes. It was kilometers away, no doubt thanks to how fast that weird gryphon was, but she knew who was the source of the flames was the moment she saw searing lights rake across her barrier dome. The words the gryphon had spoken muttered through her mindscape in cohesion to what she’d said herself decades ago.

-”last shimmer of sunset-” “Sunset Shimmer!”-

-Sunset… Shimmer… Choice of name is almost ironic.-

She steeled herself, the empowered vampire turning and standing above the army flanking her. Seeing the avatar of their goddess standing and looking to them instantly caused the masses to take notice of her and silence their murmuring.

“Keep moving ahead, the issue has been dealt with.”

Stillness crept across the menagerie of warlocks, mutations, and demons; many looking back at her and the direct the flames had been with questioning; almost challenging expressions. Nightmare Mircalla grimaced, her eyes glowing whilst she stomped her hoof. And uproar of dark magic in the shape of a bat swarm roared out with her voice.

“KEEP MOVING AS COMMANDED.”

The roar got the forces obeying. Mircalla cut off her display and hissed through her fangs, heading into her tent carriage. The vampire was not in a good mood, at all. They were getting ever closer to the goal, the last pony she ever wanted to see had somehow found her way right to them, and it now seemed some of the army’s bloodlust was even stronger than their loyalty to her. Denying them a kill had just weakened her hold. In hindsight, denying she was Nightmare Moon reincarnated and saying she was just her avatar might not have been the best of plans when it came to trying to keep a mob of psychotic fanatics. Amongst other problems, she needed a drink.

Mircalla let herself hiss a quiet sigh after digging into one of her chests and retrieving a wine bottle full of preserved, very dark red fluid. Wasn’t fresh as the color showed, but the anticoagulant and spree of freezing kept the blood from turning into a brick over the years. Not bothering with refinement, she just bit the top of the bottle off and flicked the cork off her fang before chugging it down.

The vampire would have let out a satisfied shrug had she not caught her reflection in the bottle. Mircalla looked at Nightmare Moon’s helmet staring back at her with a wince. The image of the crying Sunset Shimmer flashed before it, switching spaces on and off with both her younger self and her mother from decades past. The visages morphed to a myriad of stallions and mares surrounded by snow-capped mountains, then to Princess Luna on those same mountains. With each one, Mircalla’s winces of anger grew into a flare up.

With a grunt followed by a hiss, she banished the thoughts and put a hoof to her head to lift the helmet off. She wasn’t having any outbursts, but she didn’t want to look at that reflection.

But try and she may, both by hoof and by magic, the helmet refused to be dislodged. Tethers of dark magic held it fast for her body, not just by her skin but her tissue, muscles, and skull.With every tug, Mircalla could feel her entire head being pulled up. Still, she kept trying to take her helmet; her prison, off until an unworldly speech chimed into her mind.

Mircalla sneered.

“What do you mean it won’t work? And where are you?”

How exactly she could understand it was still beyond her, for every time Mizu spoke to her it seemed so different from a voice it was impossible to call the telepathy words or a language of any sort. It quite possibly is what unnerved her the most about this thing.

That and it was looking right at her from her own reflection. Mizu’s form still obscured and virtually indescribable, slithered across the bottle and shot an ungodly cold into Mircalla’s arm that numbed to the bone. The cold traveled to her chest, the vampire glimpsing the dark form swimming across the smooth, shiny breastplate before traveling to the metallic rims to one of her storage boxes. Mizu moved from reflection to reflection across the room. Outside Mircalla could hear the dire wolves whining and whimpering in fear, no doubt trying to move away from the leader’s dwelling. Mizu moved to a set of armor, taking up residence on the reflective surface of a broad shield. Then, like it was breaching the surface of a still pond; the Primordial Aspect of Water slithered out into the world beyond.

Mizu could appear and disappear out of reflective surfaces. Suddenly the being’s ability to get right into the middle of the army and leave completely unseen made a lot more sense. This time, she could both make out some more of the Aspect’s details and was having a frustratingly hard time doing so. The darkness of its form, more like a hole in space than actual blackness; meant one could only discern details from its vaguely glowing outline. It might have been in the form of some type of Equestrian species, or rather some bizarre twist of one, or it may have been something else entirely. Its features looked of a chimera made of a variety of marine life. There was what vaguely looked like a shark tail fin mounted on a segmented, almost crustacean-like tail. Long and possibly flipper-like limbs were obscured by a mass of cephalopod tentacles, but she couldn’t be sure. Really the only thing she could be sure of that she was looking at was its long, defined neck with a glowing patch where the forehead would be. The glowing lines trailing across its body seemed to have their epicenter from that patch, which dimly glowed everything it “not-talked” to her mind.

Which, judging from the noise coursing through her mind which could best be compared to a reverberating rumble, was right now.

“Essence of Nightmare? So the power in the armor, her remnant power, is directly tied to my body-”

Mizu corrected her, spurring an eye roll and grumble from the vampire.

“-my soul. So only she can remove it?”

Mizu gave its answer stoically, something that left Mircalla wondering if the thing was upset at her for wanting to take the armor off or not; or if she’d prefer to know so. The vampire shrugged, taking another shot of fermented blood from her bottle.

“Well that narrows down my options for the next day. Appears I should get more comfortable until then, still hours of march to reach Canterlot.”

Mizu looked outwards into the wall facing the direction they were going, pivoting its head in a way that made it look like it was peering at something. There was a wall and thick canopy in the way, but at this point, Mircalla wasn’t doubting that it was looking at Canterlot. She put up her guard and shrugged off its question.

“Exposure? Who said we’re traveling to Canterlot through the forest the whole way. You shall see what I mean once we arrive.”

Electing to just ignore the eldritch being sitting a meter away from her, Nightmare Mircalla plopped herself down on a mattress of cushions, looking at her bottle with a bored expression while swirling the contents within. Lacking other options to kill time, her veil of magic grasped at a very humble looking, plain metal box no bigger than an alarm clock and brought it before her. Undoing the latch, she drew up the contents within. The age of the object was clearly ancient, despite the metallic structure. It was dozens of thin metal plates the size of a pocket book bound by several thick metal rings. While it may look mystical to many, Mircalla knew it by a humble basis. After all, when you’re as old as she was it paid to make your journal out of something not so easily damaged by frost or water.

With a gleaming, clearly enchanted metal pin, she started scribbling onto a leaflet page. Words were etched into the metal as easily as an inked pen across paper. She’d gotten a paragraph and a small illustration of a unicorn mare with a curly mane down when Mizu’s chime called out against and broke her concentration.

“You wish to know why so many of the army don’t appear to be living? Didn’t know that was an ability of yours.”

Nightmare Mircalla mumbled, attempting to keep focus on the metallic journal to cut the conversation off. However, Mizu wasn’t passive in its insistence. The cold radiating off it faded from her flank and back and reappeared at her face and hooves. The visage of Mizu’s “eye” trailed across the reflecting pages of her journal as well as her chest plate. If she didn’t know any better she’d say it was glaring at her.

Nightmare Mircalla shrugged, feigning annoyance to avoid any startlement.

“Wonder why I even bother... “

In a mild show of resistance, she snapped the book’s current page shut and turned it back many more pages. This wasn’t a daily journal, more an archive of the important. She let the clack of metal ring many times, turning back months to a page dated to a year ago.

“It regards an associate of mine. One whom, shall we say, was closer to our Goddess than myself...”

==============================================
One Year Ago, Somewhere in the far Northern Mountains
==============================================

It was dark and pure white at the same time in this flurry of a blizzard. Amongst the snowstorm, a single figure struggled to move forward. The hiker had been lost for hours, trying to map this uncharted terrain. And despite their thick wrappings, the lameness and numbness of their limbs showed clear signs of frostbite. They were blind, cold, and freezing to death. And someone else could see them just fine.

Peering out through another visualized plane, a sort of sonar gave a steady beep. It was steady, slowing down, but all too clear. Through another’s vision, the lost hiker was as obvious as a flare with every heartbeat. Their stalker soared above, able to see every pump of bloody pulse through numbing veins and nerves. By the time Mircalla landed next to them, the hiker had collapsed. The vampire stoically narrowed her eyes, lowering herself to their throat to better see their pulse. It was extremely slow now, enough to possibly keep them alive for a few more conscious minutes in the cold before giving out. It would take hours to get off the mountains, but this poor soul didn’t need worry about that. Barely lucid, they found themselves in a quiet embrace before their life left them in an instant.

The quick, clean kill done; Mircalla picked up the corpse and concentrated. She thought back to centuries ago where she was in the same situation as the hiker had been; before the change. She thought to where she’d been changed, at the mouth of a massive cave. It was a skill of hers to recall not just her memories of that spot, but also herself. The Vampire Count seemed to warp out of existence and was instantly back at that spot with the corpse in hoof. She was back at her castle now.

The fortress was half castle and half cavern, built into a sheltered side of one mountain. From any angle other than directly facing it, it was all but invisible thanks to high snow banks and towering slopes functioning as walls. Shielded from the storm, Countess Mircalla was clearly seen upon her approach by those inside and the cold stone front gate opened up before her. Not smiling upon stepping inside was impossible for the Countess. After all, this was home.

Welcomed by the skeleton crew of bitten vampires with cheery smiles and greetings, Mircalla gave them a smile and nod as she walked passed and to the needed stations. For the vampires of these Jagged Peaks, this was how they went about things. Souls get lost in these mountains all the time without any effort on their part. If they were still capable of surviving the trek when discovered, they’d be sedated and dropped off outside them where applicable. If they went too far into the peaks and were about to meet a prolonged end, they’d be granted a swift one and be utilized. Sometimes the change would occur to alter them into a new vampire, most times it didn’t. In all her years up here, it only happened twenty nine times for Mircalla. For those that did, they’d be allowed to stay here and the cycle continued. It was a cruel system, but worked. Taking only those over the event horizon of death helped keep their numbers low, avoided mass search parties; and helped ease the conscience for many of the newer arrivals.

Plus it was easier.

Going about this the same way she had hundreds of times, Mircalla stripped the body and pumped it full of anticoagulant to avoid livor mortis. Slashing the aorta with a knife for maximum effectiveness, she slumped the body at an angle to collect the blood in the abdomen. After some short time of waiting and chatting with the maid, the deed was done and after some pumping; over five liters of blood was collected into a dish and handed off to the distiller for storage. The body was methodically sewn back together, dressed again, and taken to the crypt. Nodding to the carpenter, Mircalla placed the body into an open coffin and watched them nail it shut after arranging the shriveled body into a sleeping position. The lower vampire gave the form a respectful nod before placing it up against a wall in a slot.

All and all, the process took less than half an hour.

Countess Mircalla sighed as she left her eyes to drift off the coffin and across the entirety of the crypt. Rows upon rows of coffins lined it. Mircalla had long made peace with her fate, as had her underlings. But seeing this still left her conflicting feelings.

Then a small voice squeaked out from behind her. It was Spotless, the maid again. In her former life, she was a dark green earth pony mare with a blue mane. Now she was a very pale coloration with a greenish tint and an unearthly, snow white mane; eyes shifted from yellow to red. Still, with her typically perky demeanor, she was quite adorable if in a slightly uncanny way. Right now though she just looked mostly nervous.

“My lady, there’s a warlock outside the gate summoning for you.”

Mircalla knew who it was the moment she heard the word “warlock”, frowning and power walking past Spotless to get back to the main hall. Giving a nod to the hidden guards manning the gate winch, she stood firm and raised high. The cold stonework creaked and rumbles vibrated the main hall’s carpeting, walls, and knocked some dust free from the ceiling. A group of ponies stepped up through the doors that closed behind them as more of Mircalla’s vampire underlings fell in line alongside her, either by walking to her flanks or flying up in bat form before changing back. Their counterparts in the visiting force, several shadowbolts, a novice warlock; and two heavily mutated knights, stood across from them as their leader did the same to Countess Mircalla. He was a dark blue unicorn with a black mane. Over his form was a black cloak that held Nightmare Moon’s insignia over it. His left eye bore scars from battles past. One of the most powerful warlocks or spell casters in general of all time, Apostle.

Mircalla’s lack of an excited reaction showed just how mundane it was to be being visited by one of Nightmare Moon’s generals so close to her, one that he was often regarded as her right-hoof-stallion. This was pretty much a normal visit by someone she considered the closest thing she had to an acquaintance outside of her mountains. There wasn’t any real affection between the two of them, Apostle’s often fanatical devotion to Nightmare Moon put Mircalla off and the vampire’s cold and eerie demeanor along with her uncanny appearance gave Apostle margin to worry. Still, they were respected colleagues in each other’s book, which showed in their professional tones.

“Apostle.”

“Mircalla.”

Apostle shrugged his shoulders, shaking some snow off his cloak before hoofing it off to Spotless.

“It’s been awhile. Twenty years since you left your mountains?”

“Roughly. The staff sometimes make trips outside for supply or get some new books for the library. What’s the cause for the visit, you usually take another five years to come and make a move on our chessboard.”

Mircalla muttered in response to Apostle’s approach.

“We’re both going on a trip.”

"Where?"

Mircalla raised an eyebrow, expecting some elaboration. Except Apostle didn’t give one nor did he walk up to her, but rather trotted past the vampire with his envoys in tow. He was already through the doorway to the crypt when he finally spoke again.

“Canterlot of course.”

The warlock quipped in a startlingly nonchalant tone. Countess Mircalla’s eyes dilated in shock and she completely lost her poise.

“... WHAT?!”

Apostle heard the shout chase him down, along with some rapid hoofsteps, but made no effort to give pause as he trotted down the winding stairwell and entered the crypt.

“Canterlot?! You're insane as one of those Chaos loons!”

“Not with the forces I and the others have been amassing. As you know our Goddess of the Night is returning soon. She expects an army, so one will be provided that it is strong enough to take Canterlot.”

“And yet you come here for forces? Apostle most of my vampires aren’t combat trained. Those that are may be powerful yes, but few in number.”

Apostle shrugged, turning around to face Mircalla with closed eyes. Taking in a clearly frustrated breath, the warlock looked Mircalla in the eye and waved a hoof in the direction of the aisles of coffins.

“I came for this. Step back.”

Mircalla watched in confusion as two of Apostle’s subordinates took a coffin from its slot and placed it on the floor between them. With the greater warlock taking point in a triangle with the three, they collected themselves for a moment before hoisting their horns high while alight with dark magic. The fel energy bounced between the three like arcing lightning before jumping onto the coffin. Wood was seared and metal warped with each raking bolt. Soon as it started, however, it ceased and the three warlocks stepped back. All was silent for a moment.

And then a flurry of motion came from the coffin. Dry hooves bucked outwards with such force they shattered the wood.

A decrepit, frostbitten corpse, the doomed hiker Mircalla had drained not half an hour ago, pulled themselves free of the coffin. Dark magic wisped and sparked across the physical revenant‘s form, partially re-inflating their husk. They, it, wheezed before opening its eyes. Dark magic had filled its orbits to the point they were largely sunken, black pits. Sneering with blackened teeth, it croaked out a raspy, unnatural voice.

“Praises be to the True Goddess!”

The attendant warlocks stepped forward fearlessly, beginning to clothe the revenant in a Shadowbolt uniform. Countess Mircalla felt her vampiric pulse chill as she watched on with shocked eyes.

“What have you done…”

Apostle sighed, not sharing his colleague’s horrified expression even if he didn’t seem especially happy about it.

“Bolstered our army. Each revived is completely loyal and imprinted with the experience of one of our past soldiers. This is to make up for your failure two decades ago, best we use every asset we can call upon.”

The other warlocks filled down the crypt and repeated the spell, this time arcing the dark magic across whole swaths of the chamber. Within seconds, dozens of revenants were rising, filling the chamber with their hisses, shrieks, and praises. Countess Mircalla fought hard not to instinctively lurch forward and go on the attack. What she saw transpiring was nothing short of horrifying, enraging; and an encroachment on every principle she’d had for hundreds of years. This was a rape of her sanctum and idols, and the thought of rushing our and personally tearing the offender’s throats open with her teeth was an agonizingly tempting decision. It was only through sheer force of will, respect to the warlock standing next to her who was helping fuel the incantations; and fear of what the other generals might do to her that kept her from acting.

Spotless was terrified, causing her to hide behind Mircalla to an extent as the countess’ guards seemed to try and force their way down the steps and act; only to be blocked by Apostle’s knights and shadowbolts.

The only thing Mircalla could do to the closest thing she had to a friend outside of her castle walls was whisper.

“The dead should stay dead, Apostle.”

Apostle took a long breath and shrugged. On some level it seemed like even he was showing some reluctance, maybe from the graphic display or maybe some degree of consideration to Mircalla; but it wasn’t enough to stop him.

“And the loyal have to remain loyal. This is your contribution after the loss of the foal. Loyalty to show the other generals you haven’t wavered. These revenants know nothing but loyalty and the night should have no room for traitors. I haven’t forgotten that, have you?”

He muttered as both he and Mircalla looked on to the cornucopia of dark forces now inhabiting the crypt after the last coffin was open. Revenants, automatons made of flesh held together by dark magic, loudly declaring their motives as they were clothed, armored, and armed by the warlocks.

“They all passed quickly, peacefully. This is desecration.”

Mircalla whispered, struggling not to show a fluctuating writhe of anger and grief. Apostle cast a small frown, turning to start back up the stairs and throwing his words behind him.

“I am, sorry. But I won’t let our queen wait for a thousand years to fail, Countess.”

============================================

“And so I found myself leading an army of deceased as a reserve force while the main contingent attacked Ponyville to lead into Canterlot after Nightmare Moon returned. After that attack failed the survivors rendezvoused with myself. You arrived while I was speaking with the survivors and the revenant force was hidden in the forest.”

Mircalla said with a sigh, downing another shot of fermented blood. The vampire let her eyes wander to Mizu again. Its form was still baffling to look at, but based off the bits she could make out in terms of body language it seemed to be looking outwards from the wall at where some of the revenant no doubt were. And if she didn’t know any better, she'd think it was actually showing a genuine emotion for once.

Outrage.

Mizu, or more accurately though Nightmare Mircalla knew not, Bagan speaking through Mizu; not-spoke to her again. Based off the way the not-speech jolted through her head like a cymbal crash, maybe her guess at outrage wasn’t too far off the money.

“Abominations? Chalk that for something I’ll agree with you on. Contrary to belief of myself and my spawn, I’m not undead. Undeath is an abomination. Once the body ceases and the soul leaves, it should stay that way.”

She took in a deep breath, shooting the exhale her nostrils with an expression that was a clear ringer for frustrated anger.

“Apostle meant well but he knew how I’d think of it. He was, still is, dedicated, though.”

Mizu seemed to look at Mircalla again as it replied and that unnerving nature the vampire almost had time to forget about came right back with a vengeance, spurring a small repulse.

“Apostle? He’s currently in Canterlot next to Lun-... Princess Luna’s cell.”

It communicated again about the previous topic, one Apostle had mentioned in passing when he came to raise the crypt. Instantly Nightmare Mircalla stood up, dropping her bottle and getting enough nerve to glare at Mizu.

“The girl is of no-!”

She cut off her bark, realizing what she was starting to say after Mizu asked about the pillar of fire. The vampire stood there with broiling blood and a panting chest for a few moments before winding back down. Collecting herself, Mircalla headed for the side doorway.

“I am going to lead from the front line. Get the troops’ focus back on me in a good way for morale. For those that need it anyways. Remain here.”

She commanded coldly before exiting to get away from the Aspect, sealing her journal in its container and taking it with her for extra assurance by slipping it under her chest plate. She couldn’t be sure of the almost soulless reply she got from the eldritch was assuring of confirmation or not, but she took no chances.

As soon as she stepped out, her attention quickly tracked onto a scared dire wolf. The almost horse-sized beast was clearly agitated and instinctively fearful of what was inside where Mircalla had stepped out from. Mircalla could quickly guess as to why this was so. The knight next to the wolf, one of the remnants of Apostle’s army, had been trying to settle the beast when he noticed Nightmare Mircalla’s presence.

“Avatar of the Goddess! Is something the matter?”

He barked, quickly saluting. Mircalla shrugged, petting the dire wolf on the head and helping calm it down to a degree while nodding to the knight to acknowledge the salute.

“At ease. Do me a favor. Don’t let anything leave my transport. And if the wolves stop acting anxious around it, alert me immediately.”

With that, Mircalla broke up into a swarm of bats and made her way to the front spearhead of the army, leading them through the Everfree.

Mizu stayed in stillness for a time, but not for long. It had asked for the nature to the failure Apostle was mentioned speaking of and Mircalla had just blabbed all about it even if she tried to stop herself. And with her now at the front of the army, it acted. Gliding over to the broad surface of the shield, Mizu drew down close to it and distorted the surface as if it were a puddle of water before slipping its front half through it.

In the back of the army, where the ratio of raised dead to living troops drastically increased, a risen unicorn-turned-warlock trudged along and stepped into a puddle. Had it the ability to feel temperature, it would have suddenly felt the ambient air turn to an unworldly cold. Instead, an uproar of noise and words without speech ripped through it and dozens of other revenants’ simple minds. The small party stopped and turned their attention to a nearby stream they had been passing by and the dark tendrils and glowing lamps of light that slithered out of them. A language unknown inquired without word.

“Serve Nightmare Moon? What else is there to be? What command does her avatar hoof down from her to us?”

The lights increased in intensity and the tendrils warped, bringing forth a myriad of shapes that started piecing together something. Bagan hadn’t just consumed the Electro-Orb and Alicorn Amulet, it had absorbed their essence. And what had been taken in could be copied to a degree. Ancient magic born of Terra had created the emulation of the Electro-Orb the Nightmare Army had used to power a summoning portal to give them their Shadows, Mizu simply did what it had done before but on an increased scale. It created a grayed simulation of the alicorn amulet and presented it to the warlock. The revenant warlock instantly took it and beheld it the best way a machine of dead flesh fastened by dark magic could. After all the original alicorn amulet was a creation of Nightmare Moon herself, and this approximation felt little different. They placed it around their neck, it locking itself down onto their throat though they felt no pain from the action. Like an injection into a vein, the warlock’s body felt the energies of the amulet course through them; amplifying and exaggerating what was already there. It knew how powerful it was now, and knew exactly whom to serve with this power.

As did the other revenants when they were given their copies of the amulet by the demon in the river who appeared to be a benefactor to their cause gave them “Mircalla’s” command.

They spoke in low unison-

“We shall serve our Night Queen!”

-before marching off into the direction of where the fire pillar had been. Search and destroy or seek and capture, they’d serve Mizu’s presence well as the Aspect slipped back into the reflection to return to where it had promised it be.

Rodan and Sunset meanwhile had been standing in silence upon the same clearing the former had landed them in. Itching at his wings and unable to take it anymore, Rodan finally spoke; albeit with a cautious tone to try and avoid another fiery outburst from the unicorn Princess like the flame pillar had gotten. He just hoped she’d gotten it out of her system.

“So, you never remembered this detail of your past before?”

Princess Sunset Shimmer stood with her back to him, still looking the direction she had been. The haughty royal looked much less regal now, shaking in her breath and speech.

“Never so clearly… I’d recall shapes and sounds before, but not the context. Seeing that thing… it jogged and cleared the memories.”

“Who is she exactly?”

“I don’t know her name, just her face. Nightmare Moon had multiple generals and lieutenants who hidden over the centuries.”

“So, are you certain she’s the one then?”

Sunset Shimmer lowered her head in contemplation yet again. It didn’t take long to let her thoughts become affirmed as images decades and seconds old overlaid each other. Some features had changed, but she recognized the vampire in Canterlot that fateful night and the demon in this forest less than an hour ago as one in the same. Her eyes snapped open and she glared at the distant horizon, somehow sure of which direction Mircalla was.

“Yes, no mistaking it. The voice, the posture, the look…”

Her voice dropped noticeably. Even standing a meter away, Rodan could feel the hot temperatures convecting off the unicorn as Sunset sneered in an angered tone.

“She’s the one who did it…”

Sunset Shimmer began to storm off. She got only about two meters closer to the distant army when Rodan got even closer to them; jumping up in front of her.

“And where are you going off to?!”

He barked in exasperation, putting a paw before Sunset’s muzzle in a stopping motion. Sunset Shimmer narrowed her brow, her horn glimmering for a moment to charge her magic.

“Ending this, for however long it takes.”

She teleported several dozen meters ahead, an admirable feat given how much energy she must have burned with her pillar of enraged flame. However, Rodan had wised up by now and had grabbed onto her by her shoulders, getting dragged along with her. When she realized Sunset Shimmer growled, trying to throw the gryphon off, but Rodan wasn’t having any of it.

“Hey! Don’t know if you remember, but we both hit her at the same time and didn’t leave so much as a smolder!”

“I’ll just have to try longer then! Let me through, idiot!”

She managed to push Rodan off her and kicked into a furious run. However, she didn’t get far before Rodan tackled her. They wrestled across the ground, Sunset hissing, kicking, and bucking hard; but Rodan endured the hit and managed to pin her against a tree trunk with his clawed paws stabbing into the wood on either side of her hooves. Unfazed, Sunset Shimmer glared and charged up her magic, light spiraling up her horn’s lines.

To her credit, though, she did intend to give a verbal warning instead of literally starting to open fire right off the bat. Though before she could attempt such action, the sea of anger and hatred ripping through Sunset’s mind was suddenly shouted out by the gales of a hurricane.

“NO! SUNSET!”

Rodan roared, getting right in the unicorn’s grill and locking eyes with her. Sunset Shimmer winced and flinched, quickly returning her wit to a degree. Her focus was too distraught for magic, but she still struggled physically.

“We are NOT going through this again! I command you to GETOFFOFME!”

She swung her leg out to try and kick the gryphon off. But Rodan saw it coming and meandered to the side to avoid it, before rearranging his grip. A tetrapod, he made use of the second set of hands he had on his wings; grabbing Sunset by the legs with his paws and pinning her arms against the tree with his wings. Had this been a less serious moment, he’d be commending himself for finally having gotten used to six limbs. But there was a time and a place for everything. And the time now was for an exasperated, annoyed false-laugh.

“Ooohohohohooo oooh yes we are doing this again, Princess! You’re running headlong into a mess you couldn’t handle all over again. Before it was just to investigate an army of psychos, now you’re going at it for a personal reason! I’ve seen how destructive personal revenge can be and what it can do to folks, and it won’t help us here.”

Sunset Shimmer’s lips quivered momentarily before grimacing, snapping her neck as far forward as it would go.

“It takes a storm to put out a wildfire! Hold me back and you’re letting her get away!”

Rodan’s eye twitched at the back talk, hoping in the back of his mind he wasn’t ever this rowdy because if he ever were to remember himself being so he was about ready to bash himself over the skull. He keyed in on the accentuated word of choice the unicorn had spat out.

“So focused just on her now? What about all the other monsters we saw down there dead set on doing Tanaka knows what to your other mother?”

Rodan grumbled. At this point, though, Sunset Shimmer was too worked up on her own fury to be cowed.

“And you’re going to let her lead them right to their goal! And thanks to you getting us away, we have even further to track her down!”

She snapped, but instantly lost her demeanor when Rodan dropped her in an instant. Confusion snapped her out of her anger induced stupor, quickly rising and brushing herself off before looking up at the gryphon. At first, she glared, but it instantly changed to baffled curiosity with she saw the look Rodan was giving her as he loomed close. He wasn’t angry or peaceful, but more like some of the latter masquerading behind the former. He wasn’t one to linger on dark thoughts or stress. Every storm cloud blew over eventually. But something working through the gears inside his head caused a stark realization.

Back at the plateau where they first encountered the leader of the Nightmare Army, she arrived in an instant and withstood everything they had thrown at her. Something like that wouldn’t have been fooled by the quick diversion and escape Rodan pulled, at least not for long. And even when he started flying away, he sensed no pursuit. If there was she’d surely have found them by now.

The kaiju muttered in a quiet tone, mild shock evident in his eyes as this world just made even less sense than before.

“I didn’t get us away, she let us go…”

Author's Notes:

Shimmer'verse by Evowizard
Proofreading by Lance Omikron and Faith-Wolff
Artwork by Faith-Wolff