The midnight hour was fast approaching and Dim was anxious. He had a client to meet at midnight, outside of town, away from prying ears and watchful eyes. This sort of secrecy was nothing new; the disgusting primitives were always so fearful of being caught.

Today had been a profitable day, so little effort for so much return. Repair spells on old family heirlooms had taken up most of his day. A princely sum had been paid to him to enchant a cloak and make it waterproof, which Dim had been able to do with ease. The cloak was a wedding gift, and he had wished the soon-to-be married couple good luck.

This was a simpler land, and (Dim felt) a better one. Ponies here married early and became productive citizens. There was no lollygagging about, wasting time on education or frivolous activities. For ponies ready to settle down, there was a matchmaking service that paired up compatible ponies with one another. Mares here tended to foal when they were young and resilient, and then spend their prime adult years working.

Disgusting primitives they might be, but these earth ponies had their charm.

Extinguishing his pipe, Dim smiled, a thin aristocratic sneer. He had places to go and ponies to see. There was coin to be made doing something nefarious… perhaps. Or maybe his client was just shy. It didn’t matter. His client was paying extra to meet at midnight, and that was all that mattered to Dim. He had a lifestyle to maintain—his body demanded certain creature comforts—and the things he needed had a cost that was quite dear.

Already, he was entertaining the idea of his own keep, his own fiefdom. Such a thing would have quite a cost indeed, but it was an investment. A well-run keep would generate income—which he would distribute in a fair way, of course, he was no monster—and would restore him back to the level of opulent comfort he was used to.

Knowing it was time to go, Dim vanished.

Waiting, Dim rolled a cigarette for himself. A little hashish, a few calming herbs, a hint of cloves, and some cured blue lotus leaves. When the cigarette was done, he stuck it into the end of a long, slender, silver cigarette holder. He didn’t much care for the smoke to blow back into his eyes, because it stung something awful. With a flick of fire magic, he lit his cigarette and began puffing.

There was a delightful little picnic area a short distance away from the train station, a place for travellers to stretch their legs and for the townsfolk to have a pleasant lunch in the sun. Being midnight it was deserted, but that was no surprise as most of the town had gone dark. The firepit had not seen use in quite some time and was empty, devoid of even ashes.

Much to his surprise, another unicorn approached, a mare. Dim began to size her up, taking note of everything he could. She appeared to be the studious type, because she was thin and slight. Hers was not a body accustomed to hard labour. Eyeglasses glinted in the faint available light, thin, fragile wire frames ill-suited for adventuring. She had a long mane and tail, which meant that she either had sufficient magic for instant grooming, or the available time for long grooming sessions. Either seemed as likely as the other. She was graceful and almost right away, Dim noticed that she wasn’t very watchful. The mare only looked ahead, at him, and she never took her eyes off of him to check her surroundings.

A sign of foalish inexperience.

“You have a job for me?” Dim asked when she was close enough for his soft voice to be heard.

“Indeed I do, Lord Dark.”

Eyes narrowing, Dim considered killing her right here and now. His senses detected that she had some weak, paltry, rudimentary defenses going, but nothing he couldn’t smash through in an instant. Killing her might be a hasty mistake though, and he decided to learn what he could from her.

“Lord Dark, I am Lady Blue Rhyme, and I too, am an Equestrian noble.” The mare drew herself up to her full height, which wasn’t much, and she did her best to look imposing. “I have come with a job offer, a unique one, and to offer you a position suited to one of your talents.”

“I am listening,” Dim said as his silver cigarette holder hung from the corner of his mouth. With each word, there was a puff of smoke.

“My Master wishes to employ you,” Lady Rhyme began, and she looked up at Dim, her eyes watering from the smoke wafting into her face. “This is no mere position of underling, but he acknowledges your rightful position of rulership and your princely blood. He wishes to restore you to your rightful position so that you might rule over others, and all he asks for in return is your allegiance to his cause.”

“I suspect I know who your so-called master is.” Dim’s voice was now a dull, disinterested monotone. “I have no interest in kneeling before a smelly goat to fellate his ego as you must do—”

“I suggest you reconsider, Lord Dark.” Lady Rhyme’s demeanour shifted and she did her best to look commanding, imperious. “You will either join us willingly, or agents will be sent out to collect you. You are simply too valuable to be allowed to remain as a neutral player. Your ability to corrupt light is something my Master desires a great deal.”

Dim did not find her the least bit intimidating: he had hallucinated things more dangerous than this mare. His silver cigarette holder rose like an excited erection, then sagged a bit as his lips tensed and relaxed. “Your Master is an idiot and he is mistaken. I do not corrupt light, I merely turn it into darkness for a time.”

“It appears that my Master knows more about your magic than you do. If I were you, I would take this as evidence that there is much you could learn. There is much power you could have—”

“There is no power in slavery, you degenerate, disgusting primitive. Your so-called master will not share power, but consolidate it into himself. You will only be useful to him for as long as he needs you, and then he will consume you, you foul, feckless, whorish little bint. Slatterns are only useful for as long as they remain fuckable, and you… you will not last long. You are weak-willed, spineless, and gullible. You should run back home, little filly. Go home and return to the light.”

Baring her teeth, Blue Rhyme snorted.

“You bore me,” Dim announced. “I am leaving.”

“I can’t let you leave.” Blue Rhyme’s horn ignited.

“Funny you should say that,” Dim retorted, “now I can’t let you leave.”

Dim winked, vanishing, and reappeared some distance away. In an eyeblink, he raised a shield and let go a flurry of protective spells, some cast with a pale pink light, and others with a muted amber. His cigarette holder doubled as a wand, should he need it, but he kept his secret weapon in reserve for the time being.

A trio of homing magical darts flew from Blue Rhyme’s horn, which Dim flicked away as they drew close. She had some skill, which concerned him, but he was confident in his own abilities. He winked again, vanishing and reappearing right behind her. He cast a Stutter-Startle spell on her, which punched right through her weak, pathetic defenses.

It was a simple spell, a common spell, but when used right it was a powerful spell. Unicorns tended to neglect it, thinking it was a foalhood prank spell, but when cast with the full weight of adult magic behind it, it left a unicorn stuttering, causing verbal spells to falter; and spooked, which hobbled their concentration. Magic was all about concentration, and hers was already impaired right as the fight started.

“D-d-d-d-damn y-y-y-y-you!” Blue Rhyme stammered as she tried to bring up more defensive spells.

Dim winked away, putting considerable distance between himself and his foe. With a woosh, a fireball was lobbed in his general direction. Not in the mood for rampant destruction, not wanting the world around him set on fire—because that would draw far too much attention to himself—Dim inverted a dragonfire spell, another spell from foalhood being used in new, creative ways.

Opening his mouth, holding his cigarette holder in his telekinesis, Dim sucked in the blob of incoming fire while it was still small; before it had blossomed into a fireball of massive, rampant destruction. With a gulp, he swallowed, felt the warmth travelling through his body, and gave a draconic belch. Smirking, and with little curls of smoke rising from the sides of his mouth, Dim replaced his cigarette holder between his lips, and was delighted to see that Blue Rhyme appeared to be shitting herself.

“Dirty pool,” Dim said as smoke curled out from between his teeth and the inside of his mouth glowed like the fiery pits of Tartarus.

“I w-w-w-w-went t-t-t-o”—She cast a spell on herself and the stuttering ceased—“Princess Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns! How are you more powerful? You’re just some homeschooled freak!”

“I did not go to school to be a goody-four-shoes,” Dim replied, and then he vanished. It was a simple trick of the light really, he had cast a light spell from his horn, projected it as darkness, and now stood in a patch of darkness beneath some trees, almost invisible. She had removed the stuttering, but she was still spooked, and Dim suspected that she had no knowledge of how to remove phantasmal charms.

Now was as good of a time as any to cut her down.

Stepping out of the darkness, Dim fired off a Clover’s Confoundment spell, knowing it would strip away all of her protections, and then made ready to cast Lightning Drain, a devious spell that would drain all of her magic energy if it didn’t kill her outright. No doubt, it was a spell that was probably frowned upon in the Equestrian school system.

Blue Rhyme surprised him though, and with no protections left—no means to defend herself—she had launched a beam attack at him, a powerful, destructive seeking beam. She was throwing everything she had at him, and he wasn’t certain his own protections would save him. Gritting his teeth, he locked beams with her and prepared for a contest of wills.

Locking beams was one of the most dangerous things a unicorn could do. It immobilised most unicorns, leaving them unable to move or flee. Concentration had to be maintained and one had to push back against the incoming beam. Failure to do so meant getting your head popped like a pimple, or maybe worse.

Dim’s foe was stronger than he expected, and there was some grudging admiration for Princess Celestia and her school. A powerful magical nexus formed between them, a fatal magical nexus that could be pushed back and forth. The only defense was a stronger beam… or treachery. Treachery worked just as well, as Dim knew from experience.

In a battle of the beams, Blue Rhyme was stronger than he was. The nexus crept closer to him with each passing second, and he could feel the swirling mass of destructive energy, some of which was his own. But Dim wasn’t worried, as this worked to his advantage. He wanted her to think she was winning. She clearly put too much confidence into herself, thinking herself high and mighty for being a graduate from Princess Celestia’s School for Goody-Four-Shoes Unicorns. His cheeks drew tight against his teeth while he inhaled fragrant, soothing smoke from his cigarette, which would soon burn away into nothingness.

With a flick of will, Dim touched Blue Rhyme with darkness, causing all of the bright illumination of her magic to become radiant black pools devoid of light. Her horn now radiated a sphere of impenetrable blackness, from which she could not see. It was a dirty trick, one he had used dozens of times already to great success. The mare went blind, and already startled, she panicked, which caused her concentration to falter. Like all good little ponies, she was afraid of the dark.

The nexus of magic slammed into her head a fraction of a second later. Blinded, she never saw it coming. The night went dark once more as Dim ceased the flow of his own magic. Puffing on the remains of his cigarette, he went over to where the smoking body of his enemy was sprawled out in the grass.

Most of the top of her head was gone, her ears, her horn, and the seared flesh of her brain were visible where the top of her skull had been peeled away. Even worse, she was still alive. Her legs kicked and twitched, and her mouth made odd movements as she tried to speak.

Looking down, Dim pitied her. She had been used, no doubt. It occurred to him that Grogar had sent a weak minion as a means to gauge strength. If said weak minion did not return, Dim reasoned that it could be assumed that the intended target—in this case, himself—was worthwhile of pursuit.

Blue Rhyme gurgled and burbled, her body thrashing near his hooves. There was no sign of her horn, her ears, or the top part of her skull. Dim assumed that those things were just gone, perhaps evapourated. His simple trick had saved him yet again. Looking down at her, his feeling of unease increased, and he felt awful for her, but he still had a lesson to teach.

“You gave yourself to darkness without ever knowing the nature of darkness you sought to serve. When touched by a simple trick of darkness, you panicked like a filly. It is all very tragic. Your instincts begged of you to remain in the light when my darkness engulfed you. How did you hope to serve your pathetic master if you could not share his lightless existence?”

Plucking the remains of his cigarette out from his slender, silver holder, he tamped out the cherry on the end of her snoot, a final act of terrible cruelty. A phlegmy scream escaped her lips, an awful, keening wail, and her whole body flopped about, trying to get away from the searing pain blistering her tender snoot.

“I have my own theory about darkness,” Dim continued in his soft, reedy, aristocratic voice. “It is a consumptive force, it devours, it consumes and swallows. It must exist without the light.” He lowered his head down, and took a perverse delight in the fact that Blue Rhyme’s were somehow looking up at him. “The soul is made of light, or so it is said, and I am filled with darkness. I have seen it. What does that say about me, Lady Rhyme? I am filled with darkness, it exudes from me. I can only conclude that I do not have a soul. Whatever light I had within me has been devoured.”

Dim shook his head and let out a sad whinny.

“I am a damned creature… and you… you are a stupid creature. Good riddance.” Reaching out with his magic, he grabbed Blue Rhyme by the neck and gave it a violent twist with his telekinesis. There was a crunch, a gurgle, a coughing sound, and then the mare went still. “I suppose this was an act of mercy, for Grogar would have done much worse to a light-dweller such as yourself.”

Sighing, he backed away from the now limp corpse and wondered what to do next. He had a body to deal with, and alas, it was not his first body, nor would it be his last. It was just one more body in a long line of bodies. Sooner or later, the weight of retribution would come crashing down upon his withers.

He could teleport the corpse into a solid chunk of rock—he had done that in the past—but doing so left behind a tremendous magical signature. A skilled wizard—or worse, a Warden—could follow him, hunt him, track him by the bodies he left behind. There was also incineration, a grave, perhaps out in the marsh, and a number of other options that required significant effort on his part.

“Please don’t kill me.”

The voice chilled Dim’s blood.

“Please, for the love of all things good, don’t kill me.” The pleading voice belonged to Constable Apple. “The disturbance was noticed and somepony woke me up. I saw everything from the train station. Near as I can tell, you had to defend yourself.”

“Yes.” Dim hissed the word.

“I’ll have the body buried in an unmarked pauper’s grave and if anypony comes around, asking, I won’t know anything.”

Sighing, Dim blinked a few times. Poor Constable Apple just didn’t understand about Equestrian Wardens. They knew. At some point, they would come. In a moment of cold calculation, Dim considered killing Constable Apple. No doubt, there were more witnesses watching right now. Killing the entire town was a possibility.

A grim possibility.

“I don’t want no trouble, I just want to keep the peace,” Constable Apple said, begging, his voice now high-pitched and fearful.

“I will leave on the train that comes before dawn.” Dim turned to look at the terrified pony, and the constable shied away from his gaze. “The Wardens will come, Constable Apple, mark my words. They will sniff out my magic like hounds. You tell them that Dim Dark did this. They will look into your mind and they will know the truth of the matter. You should not be punished for my misdeeds.”

The constable was so relieved that he pissed himself. The sound was like a rushing torrent, a raging river, and the stench of musky stallion urine filled the night. It pooled and collected around his hind hooves, leaving the ground saturated and foul smelling. From where she lay, Blue Rhyme’s lifeless eyes took the whole scene in, unblinking.

“If you will excuse me, I need to pack,” Dim said, and then he vanished, winking away.

Author's Notes:

Significant edits have been made.

What if Eigengrau was shortened a bit from it's original form, and picked up in another story, one that didn't have such a dark, terrible opening? Would that be better?