Alicorn. Chapter Twelve. (Patreon)

Chapter Twelve.

To my good fortune, I wasn’t forced to put what little sexual knowledge I possessed to true practice, nor did I need to do much of anything else in order to get away from ‘my’ princess, honestly.

For all that the mare of the moon had seemed to suffer from a heady dose of euphoria at my false affection, in between trying not to choke on her own spit at the presumed surprise of such a blatant attempt from a stranger, there was clearly something else distracting her.

I didn’t know what, of course. But quite frankly it was none of my business, especially considering the alicorn had improved my day (or night) immensely, both by ordering me to take shelter deeper within the ruined castle while she dealt with whatever was plaguing her, which was a command I was all too happy to follow, and more importantly, by granting me a ‘token of her esteem.’

It was a feather. The crazed lunatic, in between ranting about her eternal night and endless rule, had given me one of her own feathers.

To say that I hadn't needed to pretend as much as I usually did while directing my endless gratitude at her had been an understatement, and between her own retreat, Nightmare had seemed almost giddy at the positive attention, her lithe and armoured form curiously shifting back into a cloud of twinkling stars before fleeing the premises with an impressive speed.

But yes, her command. Getting back to the basement counted as going deeper within the ancient fortress, after all.

It was a thought that brought a small, pleased smile to my face as I hurriedly trotted back down the stairs, midnight black alicorn feather clutched tightly within my magic, before locking eyes with my inattentive first creation.

Igor was exactly where I had left it, though now the flesh beast was gnawing on a bloody bone that hadn’t quite been licked clean yet, its black eyes darting to take in my form before the abomination relaxed, recognising its creator and master.

I didn’t bother admonishing the creature for failing to heed my call. I had likely been too far and the walls too thick, a weakness I’d account for another time, perhaps with some kind of alert spell. But for now…

Click click click CLICK-THUMP.

The brief flare of my silver magic extending outward heralded the chains holding up my magnum opus coming undone, leaving the not-quite-yet-a-god to slump to the ground bonelessly, wings splaying across the floor.

Clicking my tongue at the continuous chore of needing to lug around the limp mare, alongside the inconvenience of already needing to abandon my latest lab, I recovered my flagging mood with thoughts of the wonderfully convenient shortcut I had just been granted.

“Igor, finish toying with your food and come help carry your sister. We’re leaving immediately.”

After all, what I'd managed to glean from Star Swirl’s admittedly informative ramblings was that magic cores, particularly artificial ones not born of Harmony’s embrace, required something akin to a spark to truly bring them to life.

Except rather than fuel or power or some other such requirement, a core instead needed some small item of significant conceptual weight to grow into itself.

My first plan had been to slowly but surely collect the blood of a few thousand unicorns, which could then hopefully be crystallised into a shard of raw magical power. A slow process that had many degrees for failure, alas, it had been the best thing I could think of at the time.

But a piece taken from an already existing alicorn monarch? And the supposedly (no longer) banished princess of the night to boot? Even if it was a feather rather than say, a heart, such a thing still had meaning to it.

To call it a coup in regards to my efforts would be an understatement, to say the very least. And I couldn't wait to run a few experiments on my latest toy before I truly put it to the test.

Ah, what good fortune. I truly did love the occasional appearance of a spontaneous breakthrough!

—

Once, Igor had been two stallions. Now Igor was Igor, brought into being by Mother.

A blackened, forked tongue ran along sharpened teeth as the creature stared at its creator, the mare softly humming an unknown tune as they made their way through the strange woods she had brought them to.

As always, Igor reminded itself that it was not to harm Mother. Though it longed to feel her flesh between its teeth, and taste the intellect of her heart, the reminder of its purpose stayed its hooves and claws. Igor was to serve. Eat when allowed, yes. But always serve.

Such servitude presented itself in the form of Sister, still splayed across Igor’s back. The Child was younger than Igor, yet already almost bigger than its elder sibling. Mostly due to the wings. Those were quite large.

Igor did not feel the usual cravings towards her. Perhaps because she did not move like living things, or perhaps because she was like Igor and their other Brothers and Sisters.

…The strange woods were nice. The lab was home, but there were not many opportunities to eat there. Even less so to hunt. In the woods, there were plenty of small and sometimes big things, and Mother encouraged their removal.

Each heart brought with it power. Or so Mother claimed. Igor continued to wonder if eating Mother’s heart would make it as smart as her, before it reminded itself that Mother was not for eating, but serving. For now, the woodland critters would continue to suffice.

The darkness had left at some point, drawing the creator's attention away from the dark feather she seemed so focused upon, instead glancing up at what little of the sky was visible through the trees.

Igor did not know why a feather was so important. It was not good for eating. Not like hearts or other meat. But Mother seemed to desire it, so perhaps it served some other purpose. Something not for Igor to know.

The monster that had once been two ponies continued to trudge forward after its master, silently listening in case any fun prey made the decision to confront the group, though none came. Instead, most of what it heard was Mother’s thoughtful mumbles, and her plans.

It did not know where Prance was, but it hoped there would be many hearts there for it to consume.

Mother said knowledge was power, after all, and Igor had been born wanting more.