An icy wind blew in Canterlot City, frigid air currents coming down from the mountains, bringing with it the scent of harsh winter weather, of snow and ice and freezing winter rain, the kind of weather that saps heat and life from any living creature caught out in it. It whistled and moaned as it raced down city streets, kicking up leaves and discarded trash, the herald of the ominous, dark, and heavy clouds that scraped the mountain peaks as they headed for the city. A storm was coming, and the inhabitants of the city could feel it.

Canterlot was a modest city, with nowhere near the numbers to compare to the dense seas of humanity that were the populations of much larger, far more well known cities, with buildings old and new rising towards the heavens as immense spires of glass, steel, and stone, creating a monochrome display against a backdrop of earthy greens and browns and blue-grey mountains. Wedged between a protected forest, the mountains, and the sea, it was a city that had grown up more than out, whose growth had been fueled by generations of university students, local farms, corporate business headquarters, and a rapidly blooming technology industry. Its residents worked hard, lived well, and generally had little to complain about...but today, they grew agitated, sensing the storm on the horizon, and so hurried about their business, none of them desiring to be caught out when it arrived.

At the edge of the city, where the man-made towers gave way to million dollar homes with professionally manicured lawns, sat one of the oldest, largest properties in the greater Canterlot area. Several acres of land surrounded by a high stone wall topped with several feet of decorative, blackened metal contained a half dozen buildings set back from the entrance. Nearly two centuries old, renovated and rebuilt several times, the location had been many things over the years, from a site once sacred to long extinct native tribes, to a home for orphaned youth, to a church run facility for troubled teens, and, for the last eight decades, an expensive private school that catered to the children of the wealthy and affluent in the northern half of the state. All of the buildings were a sight to behold, their facades a mixture of dark red brick, expensive granite and marble, and the abundant crystalline accents that gave the institution its current name: Crystal Preparatory Academy.

The school’s main building dwarfed the other structures around it, four stories tall with three wings branching off from the taller core of the structure, making it almost resemble the castles of old that could still be found on the other side of the world. The granite pathway to its doors was long and wide, lined with professionally managed greenery and gorgeous statues, and even the parking lot was sculpted and shaped and maintained to place wealth and status on display to all who saw it.

And from a darkened, opulent office, pale eyes staring imperiously through the window at the city beyond, was the being who had held dominion over it all since its inception, under many names and many guises. Here, in the privacy of the office, its door locked against unwelcome intrusion, the glamour worn in the presence of mortals was unneeded, and lips set in a face of ethereal beauty that was too perfect to be real twisted into a haughty sneer at the sight of mortal chaff scurrying with the frenzied urgency of creatures whose lives lasted for but the blink of an eye to the perceptions of their betters. They were little different from the smelly beasts they ate, too focused on baser urges to ever amount to anything in their short lives that was worth noticing.

“Pathetic.” The sound fractured the silence in the room, the large crystalline columns and wood paneled walls distorting the voice and its echoes, until it seemed like mocking voices were hissing the word back at the speaker. The being known currently as Abacus Cinch bit back a nasty, cutting retort, curling long, thin fingers against the sill, sharp nails making a sound against the richly stained wood.

In response, a feeling of smug satisfaction drifted across Cinch’s awareness, dark and oily, as the Master took satisfaction in His little digs at His servant. At the edges of the Principal’s vision the shadows undulated and moved in a subtle but disorienting manner outside of the small pool of harsh light provided by the single light source hanging over the desk. The tenebrous shapes clung to the crystals on the walls and oozed across the floor to cover expensive shoes with cool darkness. Turning back to stare out the window, Cinch ignored the hissing shades and the Master’s needling, preferring to spend energy taking in the kingdom—such as it was—that had been eked out over nearly two centuries.

It was a far cry from the ancient homeland, where at least the mortals spoke a civilized tongue and still feared the old magicks. There, the very stones still stood as markers to the ancient gods of the land and the tales were still sung of the days when the human animals had known their place. But the magic had faded from the land, and those who had relied upon it had walked sideways from the sun until only the strongest remained to be faced with a harsh choice: leave the land to chase the dwindling magic left in the world’s veins, or fade away as all their brethren had done.

The Master had bade them live, for He had been with them then, and those who belonged to Him obeyed. This place had been chosen for its power, the energy flooding the rocks below, and they had powered its enchantments with the blood of those who had once worshiped here. Those enchantments and wards still held, though greatly weakened by time; even the dark rituals that could still be done did not restore them to their early glory, for there simply was not enough magic to spare. To Cinch’s gaze, the grounds seemed to hover half out of time, an anachronism amidst the modern skyline, with gnarled, aged trees that had been spared the axe scattering the grounds and a faint pervasive darkness that made the hallways forever dim with shadows gathering in the corners, no matter how many lights were turned on... but of course the mortals saw none of that, their primitive minds easily fooled, showing them what they expected to see instead.

One long, pointed ear twitched as the feeling of the Master’s amusement changed to annoyance, and grew tinged with boredom. “Itheadair...” His voice whispered in Cinch’s mind, the tone firm and commanding. “I hunger....bring Me a fressssh sssssoul.”

The response came nearly automatic, pointing out the same thing that came up every moon or so when He made this demand. “It has been too soon since the last one, my Lord. The humans will notice if too many of their offspring die or disappear at one time. We must wait, or risk exposure.”

Anger edged at the Principal’s awareness, coloring the frustration with black hate....but the Master could do little besides threaten right now. The same journey that had brought them here had cost Him His physical form and with the dwindling magic, there had been no way to bring Him back. “I care not. Find Me a sssssoul.”

He did not seem to understand the delicacy of the situation in the modern world. Innocents didn’t just vanish in large numbers any more, not without involvement from authorities. Authorities who scrutinized everything about that person’s life, and could easily put the pieces together and start looking deeper into the school. “My Lord,” came the protest. “The human authorities will—”

Air suddenly refused to move in Cinch’s lungs, as the shadows came alive, consuming every spec of light in the room, all but for a pair of baleful red eyes that cast a glow on the willowy figure. “I ssssaid I do not care, Itheadair! The concernssss of mortalsss are irrelevant before My Will!” the Master’s voice thundered, filling Cinch with utter terror like the ancient being had felt only a few times before in almost four millennia of life. “It seems you have worn a mortal dissssguise far too long, ssssidhe—one might think you have grown weak and ssssoft like one of them.”

What color existed on that ageless face drained away, and it was a struggle to get any words out at all. “I...assure you...Master, that is...not the case.”

“Why then, are you ssssso concerned with the affairssss of mortalsssss assss to defy Me?”

Cinch forced the crushing weight of primal terror away, something in their mind uncomfortably aware, as always, that He was allowing this illusion of overpowering His will, and the fae being once again cursed the bargain and necessity that bound them to one another. Despite what it cost to feign a confidence not truly felt, the lean form straightened, putting shoulders back and head high, pride not allowing anything less. Controlling their voice with an iron will built over centuries allowed for a calm, level tone that almost bordered on disinterested. "I care not for the humans, my Lord. I would slaughter this entire school on Your altar, were it my choice, and water the grounds with the tears of their elders. But You give me two competing orders, for You have always bid me that I must be mindful of Your future needs and work in secrecy and subtlety to inflame the fears and anguish of Your... meals. Despite the recent surge in magical activity, there is still little to work with while Your majesty and power remains....unavoidably... separate."

Every word was carefully chosen, deliberate, for Cinch was unwilling to suffer another lash of terror by reminding Him of His imprisonment. Quickly continuing, lest He dwell too long on that thought, the Principal layered their next words with a honeyed subservience, "If, however, You will permit me a trifle of time, a mere day or two, I could provide You with... something substantial, even enjoyable. Perhaps a clutch of the drug-addled, a few young runaways to sharpen Your appetite on, before sating it? You have spoken before, of how the withdrawal of their chosen vice provides such fertile ground for twisting their minds and spilling their fears and terrors bare for Your pleasure, my Lord. If You will permit me the time, I can arrange for them to be at peak ripeness, so that You may feast at Your leisure."

There was only silence and the void for some time, but the sidhe was not new to long quiet as the Master made decisions. To push back the strange shapes that flickered at the edges of their vision, Abacus Cinch sought an internal calm by imagining the torments they wished they could carry out on every one of the human cattle responsible for the abomination called 'technology'. They sneered inwardly—as if anything could ever compare to the grace, elegance, and power that was Magick—truly, it was disgusting, the way humans babbled over their 'advances' and their 'innovation.' Thin lips curved in an expression too other, too cruel to be called a smile, one that enticed even as it repelled, and sharp nails caressed an inlay of polished bone in the wooden sill, tracing the potent lines and savoring the long-ago pain still locked in the design. It had been a hobby, once upon a time, to craft such things from the remnants of victims, when power flowed more abundantly and Magick was theirs to master and own.

The expression twisted that ethereal face into something monstrous, reminded once again how cameras and recordings had forced all but a few of the beautiful works into hiding, where they could not be seen by prying eyes...how the human 'science' trapped those of their kind who remained more and more into pretending to be one of them, and constrained their choices even more than that long-ago bargain with the Master. If any of them had known then what price it would demand, perhaps they too would have chosen to fade into the Summerlands with the rest of their ilk.

The dark presence finally receded, allowing the faintest light to return to the room. The burning red eyes watched Cinch still, unwavering. “Do ssssso then, Itheadair...but I warn you—have a care with your wordssss, or you may find you are not assss indisssspensible assss you thought.”

A final stab of induced fear threatened to overwhelm the already taxed body, but once again pride kept Cinch from giving any indication that it had had any effect at all. Their voice remained even and steady, “Of course, my Lord. I apologize if in my zeal to uphold our agreement, I inadvertently gave offense." They offered a millimetrically perfect obeisance to the dark presence, "With your permission, shall I now return to my duties, so that I may sooner be able to fill your latest... request?"

A dangerous game, this exchange, and yet...it added a certain spice. To needle Him, without provoking Him truly to rage. To offer courtesies and flattering subservience... all the while making sure they extracted the maximum advantage from any situation. It was far more satisfying than any such manipulations plied against mortal animals, and far more rewarding as well.

The Master called His shadows back, leaving the room as it had been before. Cinch glanced at the clock, and with a deft flick of the wrist, drew the glamour up and about slim shoulders like a cloak. In an instant, the androgynous inhuman figure of impossible beauty was gone, replaced by an imposing middle aged woman with stern, severe features and hard eyes, wearing a very no nonsense outfit with silvery streaked red-violet hair pulled back into a bun. Only then did Cinch press a button on an intercom device on the desk. “Miss Mulberry, send my one o’clock in as soon as she arrives—I have an exceptionally busy afternoon.”

“She’s already here, Principal Cinch. Did you want me to go ahead and send her in now?” The secretary’s voice carried the slightest distortion of electronic feedback, the noise painful to sensitive ears. It was a hated contraption, a crude thing that barely served to replace the powerful communication spells none of them could afford to the spare magic to use any longer.

Features smoothed, schooled into a careful air of haughty superiority as the Principal settled into the high backed chair at the desk. “Send her in.” A wave of one hand made the lock click on the door, allowing the student entrance.

A moment later, the door creaked open ominously, and the shadows darkened in the corners of the room. A dark haired head poked around the corner, before a nervous, anxious body followed, hands clutching a thin binder in a white knuckled grip. “G-good afternoon, Principal Cinch,” the girl began.

Ah. Twilight Sparkle. Useful, as these mortals went, though lacking in any of the areas that would have made her truly valuable. She served more to increase Crystal Prep’s status in the world, allowing them to woo much richer individuals to siphon off their finances and get their hooks into youths who would one day run important areas of human influence...youths who often owed their success to Cinch and the school and could be leaned on at the right time for Cinch’s gain. That...and the anxiety and fear that rolled off her in waves was delectable for the Master’s shades to feed on.

The Master, whose remnants of anger and frustration had dissolved away behind surprise and keen, sudden interest.

A careful lid on any wayward emotions allowed Cinch to conceal the calculating thoughts from both showing on their face and from leaking to where the Master could sense it. If something about the mortal girl had caught His attention, it behooved the sidhe to find out what...before He decided the lack of knowledge gave Him the opportunity to dole out mockery or punishment. Swiftly, Cinch reevaluated the plans for this meeting, discarding the initial intentions to wind up the child’s emotions, crafting and fine tuning several potential paths this encounter could take in the time it took the chit to make her way over to stand on the carpet. The Principal bestowed her with a gracious smile, noting with a sense of satisfaction the way her anxiety spiked rather than diminished.

Trembling hands extended the binder towards her as an offering. “H-here’s my proposed independent study project, Principal Cinch. Its...a study on a recent energy anomaly that has been occurring in the g-greater Canterlot area...” Once it was out of the girl’s hands, she began wringing them against her chest.

Instead of a swift and crushing dismissal of whatever fancy the child had come up with, Cinch took the time to open the binder, ostensibly to read through the proposal. It gave the sidhe a chance to observe both the mortal and the Master, trying to determine what made the girl interesting to Him now, when she had been here for several years and never garnered a second glance. A careful tendril of power probed the girl’s life-force to reveal if the interest was due to some sort of anguish that the Master reveled in...but despite that first thought, the girl was not suffering the effect of withdrawal from illicit substances or the horror of finding herself bred after an encounter with some randy classmate in a broom-closet.

The girl was still talking—mortals did not know when to shut their mouths sometimes—but even the chattering nonsense about energies and auroras and—

The Master began to laugh in the space between His prison and the back of Cinch’s mind. It was an awful sound, one that dragged red talons of pain across the fae’s very essence, filled with sadistic glee and cunning arrogance, as if the Master was watching a plan come to fruition at long last.

Cinch focused on the proposal, mind frantically racing to work out what in the name of all that was unholy was making Him so gleeful. The girl was the same anxiety-ridden whelp she always was, albeit even more anxious and fearful than usual. But that could easily be attributed to the meeting. No... something had caught His interest, and the sidhe needed to know.

Much of it was little more than gibberish, mortal babble about science, but in conjunction with what little of the girl’s rambling Cinch had caught, it began to paint a picture. Somehow, the girl had found a way to detect the sudden magic that had reinvigorated the leylines that ran through the earth beneath the city....what was more, the girl had made plans to refine her detection and locate the source.

An avid hunger bordering on a primal need gripped the sidhe at the realization, and it took all the control that the ancient being could muster to not betray their thoughts to the Master’s ever watchful eyes. This mortal wretch had no idea what she had stumbled over...and Cinch had no intention of wasting time or energy enlightening her. Using her, on the other hand? Oh yes...that really was the best kind of situation, where Cinch gained everything, until all that was left of the mortal was a broken shell that was no use to anyone but perhaps the Master’s weakest shades, weeping and confused as to how it had all gone so very wrong.

The girl had finished her stumbling speech, and now sat in painful silence, waiting for the administrator’s verdict. Small muscle tremors showed how unsettled she was, and the way she was wringing her hands had left reddened marks on her wrists. Every breath was little more than a shallow gasp, like the pathetic creature could barely breathe, and she reeked now of fear so thick that even Cinch found it unpleasant.

Disgust flitted across the fae being’s mind, and with the delicate touch of a master, used a tiny thread of power to override the nervous fear—it would do neither Cinch nor the Master any good if the mortal girl’s mind broke now. “Miss Sparkle,” the sidhe began, catching the girl’s eyes with their own, not unlike a serpent staring at prey. “Please do take a moment if you need, and compose yourself.” A thin, bare hint of a smile crossed the glamoured face, a hint that Cinch was...pleased...with the creature. It wasn’t a falsehood after all; they were pleased, though not for the reasons the girl would likely assume. "Your proposal here is quite... interesting." Ancient eyes watched the girl, gauging her reaction.

Purple eyes regained a measure of vibrancy, and the anxiety returned to manageable, tolerable levels, and once more the words poured forth from the girl’s mouth like a raging river. “I thought it was fascinating, and I checked the energy’s wavelength on the electromagnetic spectrum against all known forms—it’s an unknown, and completely new energy. Some dozen minor events plus a partial reading from the initial major event and a second major event has already yielded almost a full terabyte worth of data, and I’m hoping to use what Ive gathered already to create a customized tracking device for this wavelength. With the amount of—”

The sidhe held up one hand, lacing the gesture with a little stronger compulsion to silence the rambling... It was a pity the child's tongue couldn't simply be removed these days—in the past it had been an effective way to eliminate the mindless prattle of irritating mortals, but modern society had such unfortunate rules about things of that nature. "I am entirely certain you have covered all this in your written proposal, Miss Sparkle. As I said, it is extremely interesting, and I find myself quite intrigued by this discovery of yours." Another thin smile, tinged with a hint of approval and a flattering cadence to the words, as if the sidhe were—perish the thought—conversing with a potential equal. "I would like the opportunity to study it in depth, when I am not beset by time sensitive matters during my office hours. I will have an answer for you by Monday—schedule an appointment with my secretary to come by, wont you? We will discuss the decision then.”

It was a dismissal, and the mortal knew it. “Y-yes, ma’am,” she stuttered out, before skittering out of the office, even more agitated than when she’d arrived. Several of the Master’s shades slithered into her shadow as she passed them, eager to attach themselves to her and suckle on her anxious fears.

Cinch watched as the door shut, even as the red eyes reformed behind the sidhe, malice glittering in glowing, blood colored depths. “Tell me, Itheadair....Did you ssssense it?” came the sadistic purr in Cinch’s mind. “The power blooming in the girl? Or have your ssssenssssesss grown sssso dull that you can no longer pick up on nasssscent magic in your chargessss?”

It was bait that the principal refused to take, even if it did strike true—there had been nothing that had given away even the slightest hint to Cinch that the girl had magic power within...at least not enough to provoke the kind of interest the Master was exhibiting. “Is there a point to this, my Lord?”

“Alwaysssss...” the Master hissed. “Prepare the ritual. I want her; sssshe will make the perfect ssssacrifice...and that power will be mine.”

It wouldn’t do to let anything that could be perceived as weakness show, so the ancient fae kept a calm and seemingly disinterested tone. “As You wish, my Lord.” Pale eyes cast a slow look over the proposal, pondering the implications of that. “Do You desire her to continue with this...‘research’...or is it of no consequence?”

“Let her continue her ssssearch—sssshe can do the work for ussss. The magic sssshe is hunting is enough to fuel the ritual like never before.” The inky void oozed out of the crystals as far as it was able, with no regard for Cinch’s personal space. “Once sssshe hassss led usss to it, everything will be where it needssss to be.”

Cinch shrugged one shoulder elegantly. "As you wish, my Lord," was their repeated response. Moving away from the icy touch that brought with it a sense of despair, as if the only purpose for the shift was to reach a particular desk drawer, a long fingered hand drew it open. “I would assume then a ‘supervisory contract’ is in order—shall I use the standard or do you desire me to include custom clauses?”

The darkness drew in on itself, considering, and in that moment the crimson orbs narrowed to mere slits. “The ‘special grant’ contract, Itheadair. The one with My name on it. There issss no room for error in thissss—she must be tied to My Will, and quickly.”

Retrieving a vial of ink, the principal held it up to the view of the solitary light, observing how the fluid within shifted unnaturally, swallowing every speck of light that touched it just as the Master’s shades did. "As you feel that strongly, perhaps I better prepare a fresh batch of ink. This one isn't quite at peak potency any more." A sharp smile of anticipation stretched thin lips, the effect of it enough to send lesser mortals fleeing in terror. "I can harvest the necessary ingredients over the weekend, if you don't mind sharing one of the cattle?"

"Take what you need, but sssee to it quickly. I have languissshed in thissss pathetic prisssson long enough.” His voice filled the room without ever increasing volume, echoed from a thousand crystal facets that each reflected gleaming eyes and a fanged maw.

Inclining their head to the exact degree of subservience that the Master expected was a skill perfected through a lot of trial and error, but Cinch was nothing if not precise and knew when to provoke the Master and when to relent. At the same time, the sidhe refused to show any form of weakness. “Then, with your permission, I shall be away until later. I'll bait a few traps, and see what kind of catch is available for our various needs.

The room fell silent, and for a long time, all the shadows stilled. Then, slowly at first, the darkness moved like spilled fluid towards the crystals on the walls, filling the facets until only the barest hint of a head remained, horns rising high above the suggestion of a long mane of hair and those eyes still boring into her. “Be quick,” He intoned, the distorted shape of fingers extending from the black mass, misshapen things that looked as if they had been cast during dusk, one pointing at her. “Do not disssappoint me. Thisss mortal could be the final piece I need.”

The shadow disappeared, leaving Cinch alone to prepare.

So. Villain reveal.

Remember how I said back in the beginning that I was going to earn that M rating? Buckle up, dear readers, because shit's about to get real.

This chapter was truly a three person labor, because Cinch was done by my "editor who might as well be my co-author" and my spouse who is the third person in our little cabal of "Rubicon Creative Minds" was behind the mysterious "Master" and I pieced it all together with tweaking and adjusting and manipulating the setting.

So yeah. Interested in hearing people's thoughts.