Befouled magic. Dim knew he was closer, but his prey was still out of his reach, for a moment. Reaching out with his senses, he concentrated on the source of the befouled magic. The horn was a sensitive organ, at least to those who paid attention and tried to push their sensory limits to the very edge, as Dim had done. The source of the magic was on the move, perhaps fleeing, because nothing was on fire yet.

Dim vanished from one spot and reappeared in another.

What had changed? Why was he visible now? The shakes were pretty bad now, bad enough that it was starting to affect his ability to focus. This weakness could be fatal should circumstances turn against him. He stood on a tree branch, up high and out of sight from anything that might be down below. Silly little equines, most of them never looked up.

Something had changed, some unknown variable, and he was visible again. Dim popped out of existence for a brief second and when he reappeared, he did next to a startled squirrel. The squirrel did what any self respecting critter would do when a crazed wizard just sprung into existence beside it: freak out and run away, all while chittering away and critter-cussing.

Thinking of the Sea Witch for but a single moment, Dim blinked away.

He was close now. Not only could he sense his prey, but his ears registered the sounds of panic. Standing on a narrow tree branch, Dim gave no thought to the fact that he had been blind teleporting through the woods, because doing so would be a distraction. Not one thought was spared for the theory that unicorns possessed quantum consciousnesses and could project their situational awareness ahead of them. No, he remained focused upon his prey.

When he had a lock on his target, Dim descended…

“No!”

“Yes!” Dim hissed the word for full terrifying, dramatic effect while his cloak fluttered around him. There was no wind, yet his garment still billowed, making him look bigger and far more menacing than he was. His prey didn’t seem threatening at all, not even in the slightest, but Dim, wary, kept his wits about him. Ears pricking, he heard the panicked whimpers of the unicorn as it backed away. For some reason, the cowardice infuriated Dim, leaving him both revolted and disgusted. He advanced.

“I didn’t want to fight! I didn’t want to come! I didn’t want any part of this! My brother made me! He made me! I didn’t have a choice! I didn’t have a choice!” The unicorn made no effort to defend himself, to protect himself. “I wasn’t going to burn the woods, honest, I swear! Please don’t kill me!”

“Oh, I have no intention of killing you,” Dim replied in a phlegmatic growl. “At least, not right away. But you will beg for it—”

The unicorn screamed, a high-pitched blood-curdling shriek of terror.

This disgusting primitive had no spine. Dim snorted and felt insulted that Grogar would send this worthless, sniveling sack of shit. Perhaps that was the point. Perhaps nopony wanted this worthless, sniveling, wretched coward, and he had been sent so he could be disposed of. A closer inspection revealed that the strange unicorn was a colt, perhaps a little bit younger than Dim was.

“You know,” Dim began, “they say that pain is fear leaving the body… when I am done with you, you will never know fear again. Let us begin the removal of this weakness. I have so much fear to extract from you. Let us start with what you see, those eyes will need to come right out—”

When the unicorn colt collapsed in the dirt, Dim fell silent, his orotund words now clung to his lips like a clingy film. His intention had been to scare the colt into submission for interrogation, but the weak, screamy little shit had fainted. Well, that certainly took the fun out of things. Dim’s ego unsheathed, swelling, becoming tumescent and feverish. Something about the notion that his victim feared him more than his master, Grogar, titillated him, and left his id aroused.

“This disgusting little primitive went to market,” Dim said as he pulled out a cigarette. “This disgusting little primitive stayed home.” He lit his clove and cannabis cigarette, then puffed away while looking down at the comatose unicorn on the ground. “This disgusting little primitive had roast potatoes.” A pause, and more puffing that filled the area with blue smoke. “This disgusting little primitive had none.”

Squinting behind his goggles, Dim reached the part where all four hooves were accounted for and it was time for the boop on the snoot. “This disgusting little primitive went right into the dark places where no disgusting little primitive should go.” He snarled, his thin lip curling back away from his teeth in disgust. “Now I have to haul you back, you worthless little weakling.”

There was a thump when Dim dropped the body to the wooden floor and he stared right back at the ponies staring at him. The colt was still passed out, fainted away, and unmoving. Dim kicked him hard enough to make him roll over a bit, and then stepped away, sneering in frustrated, contempt-filled disgust.

“He’s alive?” Gesundheit’s voice was strained, uncertain.

“Yes, sadly.” Dim was sweaty, shaky, and uncomfortable. He needed a fix something awful, and he felt itchy all over. There was a desperate need to get into a cool, dark place and maybe have a nap. Alas, there was work to do, dreadful work. A vizard’s work was never done. His throat was dry and parched to the point of pain. It was a struggle to even breathe.

“Did you put him to sleep with a spell?” Gesundheit asked.

Dim shook his head and then mentioned as an afterthought, “I might have said something about plucking out his eyes...”

“I see.”

“Gesundheit?”

“Yes?”

“Poor choice of words after talk of eye-plucking.”

“Indeed it was.”

It was Blackbird who came over to inspect the pony on the ground, and Dim did nothing to stop her. She rolled him over onto his back, pressed her talon-fingers against his neck, and waited. After a moment, she nodded, glanced up at Dim for a second, and then looked away. She sat down, lifted her talons from the pony’s neck, and shook her head.

“What do we do with him?” she asked.

“I don’t know yet,” Dim replied. “Perhaps something useful can be learned.” Sweat was running down the insides of his ears, a sensation that drove him crazy. The beginnings of a headache tapped and thumped at the base of his skull, while a faint throbbing just behind his eyes drove him to distraction. But the sweating was the worst, as it ran in rivulets down the insides of his ears, making them feel as though they were flooding.

“He’s a colt… I mean, he’s young. Look at him. He’s too young to be messed up in something like this.” Blackbird looked queasy for a moment—she covered her mouth with her right talons just in case—and she closed her eyes. “I feel sick.”

Dim felt sick too, but he didn’t say anything. Blackbird’s queasiness bothered him, left him irritated and annoyed. She had been when he had set Grenadine on fire, or when he killed Zinc. Had that been his name? Zinc? But now, after her accidental discharge, she was squeamish. He found this inconsistent weakness of hers to be a real irritant. A part of him wanted to grab her, to slap her, to lecture her until she saw reason, until she became consistent, until she became logical.

Another part wanted to comfort her and make her feel better.

Aware of his own inconsistencies, a coruscating flame of rage ignited in the center of his mind. His own weakness galled him, pained him, and his smouldering rage filled him with shame. He looked down at the limp body and wondered what he was doing. Why hadn’t he just killed him? Why not just be done with it? Just one more body, one more ghost to join Darling in her frequent hauntings.

“Fancy Chancy!”

The young unicorn mare appeared as if by magic, and she gave Gesundheit an expectant stare while she stood waiting for his further commands. She did everything she could to not look down at the body sprawled over the wooden deck. It was obvious that she was scared—everypony was scared—but she did her best to hide it.

“Fancy, be a dear and fix some tea for Blackbird and Dim. Also, find something we can use as a blindfold for our guest. I think he’ll be spooked when he comes around. Thank you, Fancy.”

Bowing her head, Fancy trotted away in a hurry, off to do Gesundheit’s bidding.

The soft weeping was like the edge of a hoof being scraped down a chalkboard for Dim. The blindfold, a scrap of blanket, was soaked with tears. The pathetic mewling of the bound prisoner left him filled with a murderous rage, a burning, consuming anger that made him want to throttle the colt, to strangle him until at last there was blessed, wonderful silence. At least Gesundheit had the patience that Dim himself lacked.

“My brother forced me to go with him,” the colt said in a low whine. “I wanted to stay in school… I didn’t want to go… I didn’t want to go… my brother used his magic to hurt me, just like he’s always done. Please don’t hurt me!”

“Keep talking.” Gesundheit’s voice was gentle and held the promise of benevolence. “You said you couldn’t run away. Why? If you don’t like this life, why stay? Why continue this tortured existence? Help us, and we will help you. Tell us what we want to hear and I’ll stop Dim from plucking out your eyeballs or whatever it was he threatened to do.”

Dim snorted. If he wanted to pluck eyeballs, then eyeballs would be plucked.

“I’ve been marked,” the colt replied. “Catrina, she touched me. It left behind a mark, a dead place on my side. It doesn’t hurt or anything, it’s just a little sore that never heals. They know where I am at all times and since I got it, I keep hearing singing. The singing never stops. It haunts me.”

“Where?” Gesundheit leaned in a little closer.

“On my left, right at the bottom of my mark.” The colt squirmed in his chair, straining against his bonds.

“I don’t see anything,” Gesundheit said when he leaned in to have a look.

“It’s there, I swear! Please don’t hurt me! Please don’t hurt me! Why does everybody want to hurt me? I just want the hurting to stop!”

Ignoring the throbbing in his head, Dim concentrated upon what little he had learned. The colt couldn’t say his own name, and Dim believed him. It seemed likely that the colt was marked, even if the mark was invisible. The mark was no doubt what held some means of control over the unicorn, and could be used as tracking spell.

“Everypony just keeps beating me!” The colt broke down in bleating sobs and squirmed against his restraints. “Catrina and Desire and Belladonna all practice their torture spells on me and I just want the hurting to stop! No matter where I go, they’ll find me! I can’t run away and the singing is growing louder!”

“You know, Dim, it occurs to me that they sent this wretch just so you would kill him.” Gesundheit let out a sigh, rubbed his eyes with his foreleg, and then sat down on the floor, looking worn out and weary. “Doing so would be giving them what they wanted.”

“Do not attempt to manipulate my emotions,” Dim warned, and his voice was cold.

“Look at him, he’s pathetic. He’s no good to them. He’s been abused all of his life, no doubt.” Gesundheit gave Dim a hard, fearless stare while the nameless colt wept. “I can’t find a mark, but I can sense that something is off. What do we do? If they’re tracking him, we can’t just send him on his way. How do we help him?”

“Help him?” Dim’s irritation neared its breaking point.

“Well, you are a wizard and this is a magical problem—”

Dim’s resentment of this manipulation bubbled like a simmering pot of porridge.

“—and if you were as powerful as you make yourself out to be, then you should be able to fix this. To counter this—”

“Enough!” Dim snapped while he thought about strangling Gesundheit. “I will not be manipulated! I get enough of that from my mother and I don’t need it from you. I am aware of what you are attempting to do!”

“Then do the right thing!” Gesundheit stood up, trembling, and his ears were splayed out to the sides. “Fight your mother’s evil. Fight Grogar’s evil. Stop being a selfish bastard that only thinks of yourself and your own survival.” The pegasus pointed to the colt tied to the chair. “This pony is one of Grogar’s slaves. Can you save him?”

Dim thought of Fancy Chancy. At some point, would the torture become pleasurable? Would the colt grow to enjoy it? The shakes were now almost unbearable and with the way his heart was racing, he was in desperate need of something to slow it down. The colt was still blubbering, still sobbing, and a long ribbon of snot hung down from one quivering nostril. Turning away, Dim was filled with disgust and revulsion.

“I might know a way to see the mark,” Dim said in a low whisper that was almost drowned out by weeping that filled the room. “I don’t know what we are dealing with, I would need to see the mark first. It could be any number of things, any type of malicious magic. This is probably more than the standard geas. I don’t know if I can help.”

“Thank you, Dim.” Gesundheit bowed his head.

“Don’t thank me yet,” Dim snapped in extreme irritation. “I must go and prepare.”

Author's Notes:

Next chapter: the burning lets you know it’s working!