The living cold gnawed at Dim’s vulnerable flesh as he strode across the deck with Blackbird just behind him. Three minotaurs stood near the rail, Captain Melvin and two others. They wore heavy woollen greatcoats that covered them from head to hoof, and steam billowed from their flaring nostrils. Already, Dim was starting to shiver and all he could think of was snuggling up against Blackbird once more.

“Captain, I saw their lights for a moment and then all went dark,” one of the minotaurs said. “You gotta believe me, I would never cry out a false alarm.”

“Malik, calm down, I believe you.” The captain sounded quite calm, given the situation. “Look, I get it, you’re young and you want to prove yourself. You already have my trust.”

“Thank you, Captain.”

When Dim drew near, he saw the captain looking down at him, but he could not read the old bull’s wizened face. Fear? Worry? Distress? Age and wrinkles did much to hide whatever it was he was feeling. Reaching out with his keen senses, Dim tried to get a feel for the situation, whatever it might be.

“Why ain’t they attacking?” Malik asked and his voice quavered with fear.

“They are letting us panic,” Dim replied as his sharp eyes tried to hunt for lights in the impenetrable fog.

“And how would you know that?” Malik demanded and his voice gained pitch.

“It is what I would do. By the time I got around to killing you, your fear would be flowing out behind you.” While Dim spoke, Malik began to whimper; when the panic seemed to approach a breaking point, Captain Melvin slapped the young minotaur across the face. Annoyed by this action—though he could not say why—Dim frowned and gritted his teeth together, trying to stave off the inevitable chattering.

“Malik, Myles, arm yourselves and bring me a rifle.”

“Yes, arm yourselves.” Dim nodded and felt icy fangs biting into his flesh. In the distance, he sensed magic—not just magic, but unicorn magic. It was curious and strange, though he could not say why, and it felt as though something was off about it. “I am going to go and say hello to our guests—”

“Dim, wait, what?” Reaching out her talons, Blackbird grabbed Dim by the leg. “You’re going to do what?”

The captain let out a growl of concern and shook his head. “You mean to tell me that you are going to make a blind teleport in the dark from one moving ship to another?”

“Yeah, Dim, no.” Blackbird’s green eyes glittered in the faint light.

Rather than argue, Dim locked onto the odd unicorn magic, and then he vanished.

“That son of a bitch!” Blackbird shouted and her voice carried through the thick fog. “I don’t even know if the asshole son of a bitch made it… for all I know he could be falling to his death right now. Bastard! I’m going to claw his good for nothing balls off and fry them with his eggs!”

“This is why I don’t get married,” the minotaur named Myles said as he backed away from Blackbird, who had steam rising up off of her back. “Shit”—the minotaur drew the word out, saying it like ‘sheeeeit’—“like this on a night like this leaves me fucking unsettled. And then that creepy little pony goes off and leaves us all standing in the fucking dark, not knowing a fucking thing. There won’t be a damn bit of sleep for me. My nerves can’t take this horseshit.”

“Myles, don’t be such a fucking calf,” Captain Melvin said to his panicking deckhand.

“Damnit, Captain, ponies are supposed to be all cute and cuddly and friendly and shit, and that creepy ass motherfucker leaves my damn teeth on edge! And now he’s done gone and fucked off and we’re stuck standing here not knowing what the fuck is going on or what the fuck that creepy ass motherfucker is off doing in the motherfucking dark.”

“Myles, grow a pair of balls.” Captain Melvin pulled a pipe out from his pocket, placed it in his lips, and then stood there, scowling. A moment later, he pulled a match, struck it on his horn, and lit his tobacco. He stood puffing and a warm, comforting glow could be seen rising from his meerschaum pipe.

“Hey…” Malik seemed a little hesitant to speak, but he placed his big, beefy hand upon Myle’s arm and continued, “At least that creepy little pony is over there on their boat and not on ours. That’s something.”

Feeling the cold of the deck creeping into her hooves and talons, Blackbird considered her options. It was dark. Dark. No light was visible and trying to find the other ship in the dark with this fog seemed impossible. She looked up at Captain Melvin and noticed that his pipe was an elaborately carved seapony. After staring for a time, she tore her eyes away and made herself look for some speck of light out in the swirling fog, some trace of hope in the dark night.

Skinning Dim alive might seem like an overreaction, but Blackbird was confident that such extreme measures were justified. The captain continued puffing on his pipe as the two younger minotaurs continued peering out into the thick, soupy darkness. She thought about strangling him, but his throat was still healing. Tearing the ears off of the inconsiderate asshole was an option, and she chewed on her lip while she gave this option some serious contemplation. Dim’s cute and cuddly adorableness wouldn’t save him, no, she was going to be firm with him and give him a piece of her mind for this little stunt.

“Hey, Captain, what d'ya think is going on over on that boat?” Malik turned to face his captain, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his greatcoat.

Captain Melvin puffed away for a time, blew a few smoke rings that vanished into the fog, and then he made a halfhearted shrug. “Bad things, I reckon. I figure he’s doing his job and earning his keep. We shouldn’t worry about it, we’re sailors and he’s a killer. We do our jobs, he does his, and so long as we stay alive, I ain’t one to complain.”

While the captain might not be one to complain, Blackbird was.

Stepping over the still-twitching corpse of a griffon, Dim made his way through the stygian darkness that filled the corridors of the ship. With his ears, he listened and with his telekinesis, he felt his way along while keeping the light snuffed. The sounds of panic could be heard, and he found them annoying, all this weeping, pleading, and sobbing. Was it the griffon that had shot at him? He didn’t know, and honestly, he didn’t care.

Somepony—somebirdy—had shot at him, and that was unforgivable.

Even worse, the bullet carried a heavy thaumaton load, had shattered his shield, and then had blown a hole right through his hat. Shooting a vizard’s hat… that was just rude and Dim could not allow such uncivilised, uncouth behaviour to go unpunished. Pausing just long enough to get his bearings, he focused upon the sounds of panicked whimpering ahead.

“Die Dunkelheit kommt für dich.” Ears pricking, Dim could hear that his prey was almost hyperventilating and this filled him with much satisfaction. “Hast du Angst vor dem dunklen, kleinen Vogel?”

“Bitte töte mich nicht.” The voice—screechy with fear—came from behind a door.

To which Dim replied, “Zu spät, es ist Zeit zu sterben.”

“Nein!”

“Ja.”

Reaching out, Dim pushed the door open after popping the lock with his telekinesis. There was no light, no hope, not even his own magic offered any illumination. Dim ‘saw’ everything, using his old trick to its fullest advantage. The griffon was cowering in the corner, now trying not to breathe and give himself away. It was too late, of course, Dim knew where he was.

“Es gibt Monster im Dunkeln,” he said in low voice while using a ventriloquism spell so it sounded as though his voice was coming from another corner. A terrified gibber could be heard in the dark, and Dim’s lips curled back from his teeth in a cruel, sadistic smile. “Ich werde deine Seele schlucken.”

“Nein, bitte, nein…” Pleading, the voice in the darkness cracked and all that could be heard now was panicked pants while the eye-watering stench of felinoid urine filled the air.

“Es ist Zeit für das Abendessen.” In the stygian shadows, Dim was grinning almost ear to ear. He allowed his telekinesis to tickle the griffon a bit, unseen hands groping and grabbing in the darkness, and he drew out this end to the point of torture. He played the griffon like a panpipe, and scream after scream came out of the griffon’s beak.

Alas, Dim grew bored, and this was the griffon’s undoing. Wrapping two spectral hands around the griffon’s neck, Dim throttled the large, dangerous predator, but did so in a slow, methodical way, because somebirdy had to pay for shooting a hole in his hat. After what felt like minutes, Dim was rewarded with the delightful sound of the griffon’s death rattle and then the body went mostly limp, though the limbs twitched a bit.

Only one living thing remained on the ship, and Dim hurried off to deal with it.

In the faint flickering light of a lantern, Dim studied the sick unicorn while wondering what might be done for him. His muzzle was bloody and from Dim’s initial inspection, it appeared as though he had bit his lips, the inside of his cheeks, and his tongue. The unicorn’s eyes were unfocused, glassy, and the pupils had wild spasms.

“Aurora,” the unicorn croaked in a dry voice that had far too much crackle. “The lights… I wanna see the lights… you promised me some Aurora if I did some magic for you… please, it hurts… I need to see the lights.”

The cell was a disgusting horror to witness, filled with vomit, feces, and urine. The unicorn was caked in his own filth and was sprawled out in puddles too nightmarish to describe. How long had the prisoner been left unattended in his cell? Dim had questions, but he doubted that he would have any answers.

“Just a little snort of Aurora so I can see the lights,” the unicorn begged.

Sighing, Dim shook his head and backed away as the writhing unicorn shat himself. This unicorn was sick and Dim wasn’t sure if he could do anything. The violent spasms and contortions made the pony prisoner thrash and as he sank into violent fits, he bit his lip again. Spurts of scarlet splashed into pools of bile and vomit, a sight that would turn almost any stomach.

Dim was unphased, having seen worse.

“Poor bastard.”

The pony gurgled now, and suffered yet another violent seizure. Coughing, hacking, choking, the unicorn on the floor horked out his own tongue, a good four inches of it. The severed tongue flopped around like a fish on dry land—Dim watched it with curious interest, marvelling at how severed body parts could continue to move—and the pony lay gurgling, drowning in a flood of his own blood. In a moment of sincere pity, Dim ended it for the unfortunate soul, so he snapped the pony’s neck with a good telekinetic thump to the base of the skull.

His nostrils crinkled in disgust, Dim backed out of the cell to have himself a good look around.

The ship was small, sleek, and held six as a crew. The griffons he had killed were armed well enough, with each gun being identical to one another, leading Dim to believe that said guns were some kind of standard issue. The ship was warm, or at least warm enough, and had electric lighting in the common areas.

It was a small vessel, too small to even be considered a corvette, and Dim wondered what purpose it served. Such a small size made it a poor raiding vessel, as cargo space would be limited. The craft was made for speed, for running down other ships, but lacking a proper hold, the purpose of this ship remained unclear. This boat didn’t even have a captain’s quarters, just a common bunk room for all six of its occupants. The lone cell in the back of the ship was more of a closet than anything else, and intrigued, Dim decided to have himself a look in the scant cargo hold.

He found a metal door and a panel with a thermometer on it. A distant motor hummed, but it wasn’t the ship’s engine, no. This was something else, something electric. Squinting, Dim had himself a look at the thermometer gauge and saw that the needle was sitting close to zero. This was curious. Why would a pirate ship need a walk in freezer? For surely that was what this vessel had to be. This was curious, and Dim’s lip curled back into an intrigued sneer.

Reaching out with his magic, Dim pulled on the lever that opened the door and then stepped back to allow the door to swing open. With a flick of magic, he flipped the light switch, and then right away, he wished he hadn’t. This was a sight that was going to stay with him for a long, long time, just one more bad thing in a long series of bad things, the building blocks of nightmares.

“Oh fuck me,” he muttered.

On the floor was a dead, frozen dragon, small in size. The horns had been hacked off and it appeared to have been partially butchered. Each one of the teeth had been pulled out, leaving behind gaping, puckered sockets. In the far rear right corner, there was a pile of what appeared to be minotaur horns, and Dim, an alchemist of considerable skill, realised right away what he was seeing.

An alchemical stockpile.

In the back, above the pile of severed minotaur horns, there was a dead, frozen unicorn hanging from a butcher’s hook. The horn and the eyes were missing, already harvested, but Dim knew that unicorns were full of all manner of useful ingredients. Organs, glands, magical bits, and unicorn skin made for wonderful enchanted leather that could be used to make all kinds of miraculous, wondrous things.

Seeing it made him think, and he didn’t like what he was thinking. As an alchemist, he had used things—things taken from another being—and some of them had indeed been sapient. He had never given it much thought before, they were ingredients, something kept in little jars, or containers, and most of them were so processed that they were just powders, or flakes, or granules.

It occurred to him that he might make a fine collection of powders, flakes, or granules.

In silence, Dim turned off the light and then shut the door. Afterwards, he just stood there, unsettled, not knowing what to think or how to feel. Of course ingredients had to come from somewhere, and many of these ingredients were things that one might find in a well-stocked apothecary or alchemist’s market. As the horror of it all settled in on him, Dim’s eyelids, both of them, began twitching.

Minotaur horn was particularly good for magic glue that repaired cracks and fractures in wooden objects, because it made the wood grow back together, turning two or more pieces into one solid mass. The very best wagon wheels and the like were all made with this glue and Dim himself had made vats of this stuff when he needed quick coin. Of course, all of the times he had worked with it, it had been a fine powder.

“I wonder if there is any alcohol aboard this vessel,” Dim said to himself as he thought about how nice a drink would be right now at this moment. “Yes, a drink sounds fine. I could use a drink. A little something-something to wet my whistle.”

Disturbed, Dim went off in search of the sanity restoring elixir known as liquor.

Author's Notes:

So much was introduced with this chapter. Feels good, mang.