We don’t know. Illusion is your special talent. When it comes to pure illusions, We could probably beat almost any other pony, but We wouldn’t be surprised if you could manage things We simply couldn’t.

Also, while We have retained a good deal of Our power, separate from Our beloved Luna we are nowhere near Celestia in power. In fact, at best Our power only barely matches that of her student Twilight Sparkle (though We know a few dirty tricks that it’s unlikely she has ever come across, or would have the stomach to use if she had).

…We don’t know. We think *whispers to arcel* Sugar Song might not be entirely right in the head…

Nightmare Moon stood within the ruins of the old capital, in what once was the grand hall. Nine lit candles stood in a circle in front of her. In the middle of the circle sat a crude clay pot atop a small mound of dirt.

Using a branch, Nightmare Moon carved the name Duskrage into the mound. She lowered her head, her horn pointing directly into the circle, and began to concentrate. Her horn glowed brighter and brighter, and the dirt and pot within the circle began to dissolve, transforming into a dark, continually shifting cloud with the spirit gathered from the donor at its centre. Slowly she shaped it, twisting the spirit and the cloud together and binding both to a tactile illusion spell, one in the form of a female pegasus pony wearing a purple-and-black jumpsuit. Finally, the spell complete, the creation stood before her within the circle, awaiting instructions.

“You are Duskrage, first of the new Shadowbolts. You are Ours, now and forever.”

The Shadowbolt bowed her head before Nightmare Moon.

“Yes. I live to serve you, My Queen. All hail Nightmare Moon! All hail the night that lasts forever!”

No, you don’t look pathetic in Our eyes… We aren’t even very good at it. Our ability is just a pale copy of what Luna was capable of…

And you are much better than Us at illusions. We could never manage something like your clone spell without cheating by using neighcromancy.

…Why are you brushing Our mane?

Not that We really mind, but isn’t that normally a personal space violation?

What should Our new Shadowbolt’s name be?

Very well. Hold still, you shouldn’t feel a thing.

*She taps 1138 on the forehead, and he collapses, dead. Sticking to her horn is a small white ball of light. She closes her eyes in concentration, and the ball starts to stretch. There is a shrieking noise, and the ball splits into five sections, each a different colour (red, black, green, indigo, and violet). She merges the red and black segments into a new purplish mass, allowing the other three to dissipate. She then uses her magic to form a small clay pot from the surrounding soil, and prods the mass inside.*

That’s the start. We will work on forming a body, but first Our new servant will require a name.

Direct destructive uses, like the one We just did, are really not what’s useful about prime at all (just the most visible aspect of it’s power). Just releasing energy like that is hard to scale down to levels that won’t reshape the face of Equestria, and it tends to get even more out of hand if used with violent intent. Neither We nor Celestia dared to use it against the other during Our battle (though she had the Elements of Harmony, so could win without using it).

It’s most useful aspects are the harmonising of various otherwise incompatible forms of magic, and the ability for a practitioner of prime to temporarily increase the strength of a pony’s natural magic field.

We don’t really know how to go about teaching it to another pony… We just know how to do it, thanks to Our divine heritage. Perhaps you could start by meditating on the idea that every different type of thing in the universe is made from the same stuff, just arranged in different patterns. Try to understand that, and develop a picture in your mind as to what that stuff might be.

Thank you. Lets hope We never have to use this.

Hmm… Has Celestia been pinning any crimes on Us while We weren’t looking? We just realised We would make the perfect scapegoat for her atrocities…