A mass of shadow drifted over the ice of a frozen lake. Not a looming great cloud, but merely a dark mist that couldn't settle. It shifted, some parts rising up as if attempting to climb towards something higher, and other parts continuing to move outwards, trying to draw the whole mass towards the horizon. None of the mist seemed to agree on where to go. It wasn't of one mind. It was fractured.
This was all that was left of King Sombra, a gaseous entity that could barely move itself, alone in a frozen wasteland. The lake was all ice, and the sky was all falling snow, drifting down from the distant clouds. It wasn't a storm, or a blizzard; just like Sombra himself, the snowfall was slow and quiet. It did not draw attention to itself. It was merely there.
In the haze of Sombra's consciousness, he tried to focus on his surroundings. He perceived the snow and the ice, but he couldn't feel any of it. He was without a sense of touch, but not without awareness. Though his body was physically destroyed once more, he could recreate it. He was attempting to do so right now.
A little bit of the shadow formed a pair of green eyes, and they drifted to the forefront of the dark mist. Sombra had no eyelids, so he didn't blink. Instead, he just swiveled his reconstructed eyeballs around, desperately looking in all directions for anything familiar. One of his eyes began floating away in an eastern direction, carried by the chill winds. He pulled it back to himself. It was difficult to hold all his pieces together, even more now than it had been before the light had hit him.
Don't think about it.
Sombra let out a kind of rumbling noise. It was meant to be a sigh, but it didn't sound like one. He didn't have any mouth to sigh with. Trying to correct that, he drew in some more of the shadow, and manifested some facsimile of one just below his eyes. He considered trying to form the rest of his face next. Did he have the energy for it?
Only one way to find out.
The facial structure was difficult. Hard to recreate from memory. Sombra spent enough time in life staring into his mirror to know what he looked like, but he had a distinctive face. Getting the details right put extra strain on him. He didn't want to be an amorphous, vaguely pony-like ghost again. He wanted to be himself. And being himself took strength he simply didn't have.
The old king groaned, and it sounded like a groan this time. He made a muzzle, and skin, or at least something that looked like it. He wasn't really making a body, after all. Just the appearance of one. He would never have a body again. All he wanted was to put his own mind at ease.
When at last he had made something that could reasonably pass as a face, it slumped onto the ice. Sombra winced, but let himself rest his head for now. He was still hornless, but there was nothing he could do about that for the moment. Even this was too much for him. He was too weak.
Him. Weak. Sombra despised the weak. He had lived by the code that the strong survived because they were fit to rule, and the weak lived only to serve and died alone and forgotten. That was how it had been when he ruled the Crystal Empire. But now it was happening to him. Now he was the weak one, and sure enough, he was dying alone.
A bitter chuckle escaped his new mouth. Sombra closed his eyes, remembering his life. All conquest and seeking power, crystals and slaves, and a single-minded obsession with seizing control and proving his philosophy. Equestria had cast him out for it, and those princesses of theirs denied him to the very end, but he was right. He had always been right. Of that much, he was certain. He may have died trying to prove his worldview, but he had proved it. He had become a living example. If he had been stronger, then Sombra would have beaten Celestia and Luna, and he would rule while they would be dead, or else living as his slaves.
He liked to think that he could have kept them if he had won. He would have treated them well. He had affection for them once, before everything. Especially dear Celestia. So noble. So selfless. So naive. She was a good pony, unlike him. He almost didn't want to take that innocence away from her. It was actually quite charming how certain she always was of the good in everypony.
Lies, of course. Sombra did not believe in such foolishness. If ponies were so good, then the Three Tribes would never have been at war at all. It was a threat from a supernatural force that had brought them all together, not any notions that they really did all need to get along. Windigos fed off of hatred and conflict. The great anthem of peace and friendship they spouted wasn't good nature. It was just another weapon, only turned towards a different enemy.
He would have put an end to that. Sombra's experiments with the crystals could have done so much more. Ponies wouldn't have needed to lie to themselves if he had been allowed to finish. He would have rid the world of all that wished his kind harm. Ponies would not need to fear windigos. They wouldn't need to fear griffons, nor dragons, nor the beasts of Everfree, nor the other demons that tormented them, whether they lived high above in the cosmos or in the deepest depths of the ocean.
Can't rest forever. Need to keep moving.
Sombra's head lifted off of the ice. He looked around him again. He couldn't tell which direction the Crystal Empire was. He couldn't even tell where he had landed. Alas, though he had once walked this land himself, back when he was still a unicorn and not a shadowy monster, the terrain had changed in the years he had been away. There was no way of knowing which way was the right way to go. All he could do was pick a direction, start moving, and hope that he stumbled across something soon. So that was what he did.
The shadow that made up his body now began drifting again. This time it moved as one, guided by a single force of will. Sombra chose to keep going in the direction he was already facing. The lake's shore was close, or at least it seemed like it was. That was the first thing he needed to do. He needed to get off the lake.
Sombra's head floated forwards, but the rest of the shadow actually went past him, so that he was no longer at the front of it. Instead, he drew himself up, making a kind of tower out of the dark material so that he could get a better view of his surroundings. He was like a hydra's head on the end of a long neck, only missing his brothers.
He looked down at himself as he floated off the lake. He remembered when all of this was flesh and blood. Once, he had been real. Now he was a ghost. That was what Celestia and her sister had done to him. They beat him, and then they had proved to him what he had always believed. Even Celestia, the most kind-hearted of them all, had the malice in her to do this to him.
Memories played back. Sombra remembered the first time he had come face to face with true power. All of his experiments could never have produced such a torture. The twisting agony, the way his very being was broken down into its base components... and then he had been trapped in the ice. But there was some small mercy in that. The Royal Sisters had at least seen fit to put him to sleep. He had spent a millenium immobile in a dark crevice, but he hadn't been awake through it. He was glad for that. Such a prison would have driven him mad. He would have rather died than experience such a thing.
He was dying, though, wasn't he? He looked at the edges of the cloud of darkness, and saw his energy bleeding off. It was gradual. A few little wisps at a time at best. But it was going to get worse. His imprisonment in the ice had served a secondary purpose, one which he hadn't realised until he was at the Empire’s gates again: his stasis had stopped his condition from deteriorating faster.
The truth was, Sombra was dead from the moment the rainbow had hit him. It had been so deceptively inviting. Warm and colourful and promising a better future. To him, though, it had been a poison. His body was torn apart and dissolved into shadow, and now it was fading, as shadow tended to do in the light. It was a slow, pathetic end to his existence.
And the worst part was that he knew he couldn't stop it.
Perhaps before he would have been able to. Immediately after breaking out of the ice, he had been just as strong as he was a thousand years ago, like nothing had changed. Yet even then he had noticed the differences. The way he had to consciously remember to hold himself together as one mass. The way he had to expend effort to put on the appearance of a physical form. And the fact that no matter what he tried, he was still just a ghost.
Right before the end, he had been able to bring himself almost the whole way back. His body had appeared just as it had in life. He had been surprised at the time. He hadn't thought he could manage it. It wasn't his body, but at that moment, he'd had hope that he could make it his again. There was that possibility, however slim, that he could have brought himself back to mortal life if only he could have taken the Crystal Heart back.
But he had failed. There was nothing but failure. And now he would never get that close again. His strength had been sapped already by recreating that body, and then he had lost even more when that body was blown apart.
Sombra held no false hopes. He was going to die out here.
His ghostly form continued to drift. The cold was no obstacle, so he paid it no mind. The real problem was how fast he was losing energy. Sure, right now he was a giant shadow monster, but he was shrinking all the time, as he lost more and more of himself. Maybe it wouldn't be noticeable to somepony observing, but he could feel it. Unlike the atrocious weather, he was very aware of his rapidly decaying condition.
Don't think about it.
He began climbing a slope. The terrain was uneven here. He thought of his adventures in this strange land all those years ago. Was this where he had made camp and watched those eagles? Underneath all this snow, was he following that same winding trail? Was the lake he had been floating over before the same one he had filled his water canisters from once upon a time?
Unlikely. This region was huge. There were hundreds of small lakes and slopes around. He was just grasping at straws now.
Sombra snorted and pressed forwards. The snow was picking up out here, becoming more of a blizzard. Again, he couldn't feel the cold, and the snow just phased through him, but it did make it harder to see. If only he'd had his horn still, he could have cleared a path, or at least lit the way.
The long neck that was holding up Sombra's head collapsed back into the rest of the body, and the old king put his focus on reconstruction once again. With a swirl, a bit of the shadowy energy formed into a curved red horn atop his head. If he'd had lungs, Sombra might have gasped for breath after such a feat. Instead, he was just left with the feeling of temporary exhaustion, and no way to relieve it.
Can't rest forever. Need to keep moving.
The ghostly horn lit up as he continued to push through the snowstorm. It felt familiar and comforting to use spells again. Even though his horn wasn't physically real, it could do the job. This was true magic, drawn from his soul. Not from the shadowy mist, this wretched stuff that his body had become. His attempts to manipulate the shadow and his magic drew from different sources, and he thanked the stars for that. But it was a grim thought, all the same; the only thing he could take comfort in was that using magic to light his way wasn't making him die faster.
Don't think about it.
Suddenly, a drop. Sombra came to a stop as the land did, and he found himself looking over the edge of a steep cliff. It wasn't that high a fall, but he was still caught off guard by it. He hadn't been paying attention to his surroundings. He hadn't watched his path. Stupid. Careless.
But I must go down.
It wasn't like falling would hurt him. There wasn't any problem in just spilling over the side and letting gravity do the work for him. Not like he had many alternatives right this—
Wait.
What were those, out there in the distance? What were those dark lines trailing across the ice? They were perfectly parallel, and looked like they were... Could it be?
Without a second thought, Sombra pushed himself over the edge of the cliff. Head first, he jumped out into the emptiness, a trail of shadow following behind him. To his slight annoyance, he didn't drop like a solid mass would. He fell just like he normally moved, floating down gently. But this did at least allow him to cover some distance. Rather than plummeting and then making his way across the ice, he was able to glide halfway to his destination, like a pegasus. Well, actually nothing like a pegasus, but that's what he was thinking of at the time.
As he touched down again, Sombra manifested a hoof. Not just a hoof, but a whole foreleg, in fact. His right. Then he made his left as well. Then the hind legs. He wasn't sure why he was doing all this right now. He just really wanted to walk again.
Or run.
He galloped across the snowy wasteland as fast as he could, the shadowy cloud still billowing behind him. He hadn't used all of it yet. There was still some clustered in the middle of him between the legs and his head. Looking down at it as he ran, Sombra shaped it into a torso. Just the outside this time, though. He made no attempt to recreate internal organs, or to simulate a heartbeat or breathing. That had probably been the most exhausting part of all last time, and really, what was the point?
Almost there...
He reached the train tracks. He had seen them before. They led right up to that station just outside the Crystal Empire. The purple unicorn and her friends, including that lizard, had used it to come here. He'd passed the station and these tracks on his way to the Empire. He'd had his fight with the white one near them. He knew exactly what they were, and what they were for.
Whichever direction it was going, sooner or a later, a train was going to pass through here.
Sombra let out a slight chuckle, weary and tired, but relieved. He let himself fall upon his back, and lay down in the snow, numb to the cold. Perhaps he wouldn't die alone after all. Maybe, if he was very lucky, and the train came by soon, he could stop it. He'd already gotten one wish already; he would die looking like himself. Maybe the Fates would grant him another. Maybe he could die in the presence of ponies. True, they would probably hate him if any of them recognised him at all, and they'd probably just be the same kind of worthless weaklings he hated as well, but it was something, at least.
Sombra sat up again and inspected himself, searching for imperfections. Everything looked like how it was supposed to, on the outside, at any rate. Except his flank; it was missing his cutie mark. That was odd. And there were also the remaining shadow clouds still attached to him, mostly flowing from the ends of his mane and tail. He gave a wry smile as he realised that they looked just like the ethereal manes of the princesses. Still, it wasn't his look, so Sombra reigned them in and drew the darkness back into himself. Since his torso was just a hollow shell, he stored the shadowy mist away inside him, to let it fester.
There was a whistling in the distance. Sombra twisted his head in the direction of the noise. The blizzard was still terrible, so he had to squint to make it out, but the train was definitely coming. It was a gaudy thing, colourful and loud, but he couldn't have been happier to see it. For once, the old king grinned not with malice or murderous intent, but actual joy.
He planted his hooves in the middle of the tracks. He had to stop this train. Horn pointed to the sky, he released a burst of magical fireworks so immense that not even the blizzard could have obscured it. And once he'd shot one round of them, he didn't want to stop. He had to make sure they knew he was here. So he threw out some more.
A grinding, screeching sound rang through the snow. The train was putting on its brakes, but it was still going way too fast to stop in time. However, it was stopping.
Graciously, Sombra stepped off the tracks and let the engine pass him by. Most of the carriages did too. But they were visibly slowing. A few hundred yards down the line, it finally came a halt. In the middle of nowhere, the train sat motionless, waiting for him. He began trotting towards it, grin still plastered on his face.
One of the back carriages opened up, and the figure of a pony carrying a lantern emerged and began approaching. The train pony was coming to meet him halfway. Sombra tried to up his pace to get there sooner, but staggered unexpectedly. He looked down, and saw that the end of his right forehoof had dissolved.
Not yet.
Scrunching his face up, he grunted and strained, using what little energy he had left to make a new hoof. He took another step forward and coughed, and wisps of shadow escaped from his mouth. He had minutes at best.
Soon, he came face to face with the pony from the train. She turned out to be an earth mare with a butter-yellow coat and a white mane, wearing a little red cap on her head. She smiled nervously at him and set down her lantern.
"You alright, stranger?" she asked.
Talking. He was expected to talk. He didn't want to talk. Sombra couldn't even speak confidently a thousand years ago, when he actually knew all the intricacies of language. If he spoke now, it would probably sound archaic and weird.
"I..." he began, his voice a deep, throaty rumble. "I need... help..."
The mare looked concerned. "What's wrong with ya? How long've you been out here in the cold?"
"I think... I think I'm dying..." Sombra answered.
Her eyes widened in alarm. At that moment, another forehoof dissolved, just a bit. The left one this time. The old king crumpled to the floor, landing on top of his foreleg and hiding it from the mare. He quickly focused on reforming it again as she began to panic.
"Oh! Uh...! Don't worry! I'll get you out of here!"
Running around to his side, she grabbed him with her hooves and hoisted him up again. She threw one around his neck and grabbed the lantern with her teeth again. Together, the two of them began slowly walking back towards the train.
"You'll be fine, mister," she assured him. "It's nice and warm inside the train! We're heading back to Equestria, and once we're out of here, we can get you the help you need."
"Too late..." Sombra mumbled. "Already dead..."
"Don't talk nonsense. You'll be fine."
She took him back to the train and walked him up the steps into the empty back carriage. Inside, it was indeed a lot warmer, but it hardly mattered. Just as he didn't feel the cold, the warmness was just as meaningless to Sombra. This wasn't real skin. It didn't act like it. But it was lighter inside, and the chairs looked inviting at least.
"C'mon, sit down here."
The earth pony directed him to the nearest comfy-looking seat. He didn't so much sit on it as he did sprawl across it with his forelegs dangling off the end.
"I'll go get help. You just rest."
The mare walked off, disappearing through the gangway connection into the next carriage. Sombra closed his eyes. He had eyelids now, so he could do that. He needed to do that right now.
Is it time?
Yes, it seemed like it was time. This was the last place he ever expected his life to end, but here it was. The tomb of the great King Sombra: an empty train carriage.
For some reason, his mind drifted back to that camp he'd made in the wilderness long ago. The one where he'd seen the eagles. They were such majestic birds. He wasn't one for sentiment, but even he could appreciate the natural beauty in something like that. The whole Crystal Empire had been like that, once...
"He's in here. Can you do anything for him?"
Sombra cracked an eye open, and saw the earth pony standing in the door between his carriage and the next. Surrounding her were several other mares. Familiar ones. He recognised the purple unicorn and the yellow pegasus and that pink thing. There were other indistinct blobs of colour, too, but his eye was only partially open, and his vision was obscured. Even despite everything, Sombra scowled.
"...Who is he?" asked Twilight Sparkle.
Suspicion was evident in her voice, though it was the cautious kind, not accusatory. He did look rather different without his royal garb. She probably couldn't be sure it was him.
"I don't know. Like I said, he was just standing around outside. He said he's dying."
Twilight sat down next to Sombra's chair.
"Hey."
He was forced to fully open his eyes to acknowledge her. She gave him a reassuring smile.
"My name is Twilight Sparkle. I’m here to help. What's your name, mister?"
He let out a sigh. No point in identifying himself as Sombra now. He was into the last minutes of his life. Why spend them being subject to hatred and disgust?
"Star..."
He stopped himself. No. Even that old name would probably be recognised. History books and all.
"...Light. Starlight."
Twilight Sparkle continued to smile at him.
"Well, don't you worry, Starlight. We can help you. I'm not a healer, but I know a few spells for pain relief... And Fluttershy here is good at taking care of ponies."
The old king closed his eyes again. "It doesn't hurt. It's just weakness."
He exhaled, and released another load of shadowy mist. Twilight stared at it, blinking, and Sombra chuckled again.
"Too late for me. Should have been stronger..."
And those were his last words. The whole rest of his body collapsed into formless darkness again. It spread across the carriage, and the rest of the ponies all backed up to avoid it. Twilight stood in the middle of it all, coughing and spluttering as she breathed in essence of Sombra. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she staggered back against another chair.
The dark mist rolled across the floor for a while, but seemed to disperse on its own. Nopony needed to open the windows. It just went away of its own accord, vanishing like shadow under the light. Twilight leaned against the chair for a moment, trying to get her breath back. All her other friends were simply stunned.
"What was that, Twilight?" asked Pinkie Pie.
"I..." Twilight coughed again, loudly. "I don't know, Pinkie."
Rainbow Dash pushed through her other friends, and stared at the seat where the dark unicorn had been lying not seconds ago. Now there was no trace of him.
"Was that guy... Do you think that was...?"
Nopony else said anything.
END.
Author's Note
This story was originally written as part of the Borderworld, but is no longer canonical to it.
A big thanks to Spifffy and Garion for looking this over for me, and KitsuneRisu for the artwork.
This story underwent some editing in February 2017 for grammatical corrections, and because I wasn't satisfied with the prose. No story details were changed, but this does mean that the Goomba Guy reading no longer reflects the current version of the story. If you want to read the old version for compatability purposes, it can be found here.
