A Periodic Tale of Elements: Generosity

by xjuggernaughtx

Rating: everyone
Tags: Dark, Adventure
Length: 14254

With the fate of the Crystal Empire hanging in the balance, King Sombra takes a desperate chance.

The Crystal Empire is slowly being destroyed by a patchwork monstrosity of unspeakable power. King Sombra's forces have fought valiantly, but what hope did they have against a creature that can twist reality itself? In a desperate bid to save his people, Sombra, and his wife, Queen Chrystal, have called the great Star Swirl the Bearded. However, solutions often come with a heavy price. Sometimes the results aren't what were expected.

Cover art by Ezpt (2135D here on FIMFiction)

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2014-01-08 21:18:46 UTC

The Ritual

The Ritual

“Please don’t do this!” Clover said again, quickening his pace to catch up to the wizard. Ever since they’d met with the royal couple, his unease had grown steadily. Now, Clover was beginning to feel nauseous. “There must be another way!”

Grimacing, Star Swirl shot Clover a look of irritation. “Really? Then what would you suggest?”

Clover’s jaw worked as he wracked his brain for some sort of insight. “Well, I… uh...”

“Having trouble, Clover?” Star Swirl said, pushing his hat back from his eyes to wither his apprentice with the full power of his intense stare. “Didn’t we just go over this? That idiot Sombra has cocked this up entirely. The city’s half-deserted. The army’s wiped out. The beast is practically in the castle’s throne room, but somewhere in that dusty wreck you call a brain, you’ve got the easy answer all worked out, eh?" Star Swirl looked his assistant up and down, curling his lip. “Well, spit it out! We’ve no time left!”

Clover flushed, scanning the hallway for answers that didn’t exist. He wanted to look anywhere but at Star Swirl. “Well, no. I mean, I don’t have—”

“Then stop wasting my time!” Star Swirl barked, whirling and heading down the hallway once more. “It’s not like I want this, Clover!” he yelled over his shoulder. “I know that it probably surprises you that I didn’t spend our meeting with the king daydreaming about tomorrow’s lunch or whatever it is that you do when you ought to be listening, but my mind works rapidly, Clover. Very rapidly!" Motioning impatiently to the guards outside the throne room, he tapped his foot as they hauled the huge, metal doors open. “Haven’t I already told you that they waited too long? At this point, there is only one sure way left!”

“But the cost…” Clover muttered, making sure that his protest didn’t reach his master’s ears. Sighing, he followed the wizard into the gleaming throne room. I’ll just have to trust him, he thought, trying to rid himself of the feeling of impending dread. But how can I be part of this? How can anypony?

~~~

“Now, you both remember what your instructions are, correct?” Star Swirl said impatiently to the king and queen as he inspected the patterns of runes he’d etched into the audience chamber’s marble floor. “Well, speak up! Can’t you see I’m busy?!” he barked as they nodded.

“Yes!” the royal couple said in unison, flustered. Clover thought that King Sombra looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks, and even the radiantly beautiful Queen Chrystal was showing signs of fatigue. Why? he thought, suddenly furious with the two rulers. Why did they wait so long? Now look what it’s come to!

“Good,” Star Swirl snapped, nodding at the runes. “Now, you stand here,” he continued, pulling the queen into a glowing circle of twisting magic.

“Unhoof the queen!” shouted a guard, running toward the wizard. With a nonchalance that chilled Clover, Star Swirl waved his free hoof at the charging soldier, who hit the floor face first. Clover winced at the hollow thud his skull made against the stone.

“I have no time for this,” the wizard shouted. “Clover, clear the room! Only the king and queen may remain with us. All others are to wait outside.”

Clover swallowed hard as he eyed the hulking guards. Seven remained in the room, and each one seemed to be carved from stone. They outweighed Clover several times over, and their spears looked very, very sharp. “You heard him,” Clover said, doing his best to replicate Star Swirl’s tone of authority. “Clear out! The king and queen are safe with us!” he said, hating himself. If the guards heard him, they made no sign of it.

“Obey them,” King Sombra rumbled to the guards as he made his way into the larger circle opposite his wife. “This is for your safety." The guards look at each other uneasily, moving uncertainly away from their posts. Sombra smiled at them gently. “Don’t worry,” he said. “It’s going to be alright." The guards let their eyes travel over their king’s new crop of welts and bruises, tightening their grips on their spears. “That’s an order!” the king snapped.

One by one, the guards filed out of the room. The last two stopped to retrieve their comrade, throwing suspicious glances behind them as the slammed the heavy doors closed. Although the throne room was vast, Clover felt it shrinking, choking and constricting him. The slamming doors had the sound of finality, and Clover imagined that was the last sound that bodies interred in a crypt ever heard.

Star Swirl tapped a hoof impatiently, glowering at the king. “Get a move on!” he growled. Clover sucked in his breath quickly between his teeth, his eyes darting between the king and his master. For just a moment, something blazed in King Sombra’s eyes. Something that chilled Clover’s heart.

Apparently his master had caught it, too. “Oh, please don’t let me interrupt your dignified stride, your majesty!” Star Swirl sneered, his eyes narrowing. “The whole of the Crystal Empire is on the line, but what’s that against your ego, hmm?”

Clover tensed as it looked as though the king might actually try to strike his master, but Sombra suddenly slumped, lowering his head as he trotted forward into the circle of eldritch power. Thank goodness, Clover thought. This is hard enough as it is.

“Now, remember what I told you both!” Star Swirl snapped, rechecking his runes. “There is no room for error here. You must both do exactly as I’ve told you, or all is lost." He stared at each of them in turn. “For the final time, do you understand your roles? If you have any questions, you must bring them up now, and do it quickly! We are nearly out of time!”

As if on cue, a deafening clap of thunder shook the castle. Stumbling and catching himself on the halfwall that separated the observation gallery from the royal dais, Clover eyed the room’s wide marble columns nervously. It looked like nothing could ever collapse such solid construction, but he’d sworn they’d just rippled like water.

“Is that—” Queen Chrystal began, cringing. Even from his removed position, Clover could see her trembling violently.

“Yes,” Star Swirl cut in, flipping rapidly through his spellbook. “The beast has broken through another barrier. He could be here in days or minutes. We have no way of telling how long the spell will continue to hold against a being with that kind of power. We must start immediately! Clover, get into position!”

For a moment, Clover hesitated. This… he thought, miserably. This is the point of no return. He stood, letting his eyes wander over the king’s earnest, worried face. How can I be part of this?

“Clover!” Star Swirl’s voice snapped out like a whip’s crack. “Remember your oath to me!”

Starting, Clover shook himself and trotted over to the king. “I-I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t want this!”

Sombra smiled down at the magician’s assistant, and Clover’s heart ached at the sadness the smile conveyed. The unicorn king’s eyes were lined with red and his skin hung from his cheekbones in sallow, unhealthy curtains. “It’s okay,” the king said. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes, but through this one act, I will set it all right. I can be a hero again,” he said in a shaking voice, “even if I’m not around to enjoy it." He gazed across the marble floor to where Chrystal stood, and Clover watched as the corner of his mouth managed a small upward turn. “I’ll know that she’s safe, and that’s all that really matters to me." Clover fought the bile that tried to force its way up his throat.

“We begin!” Star Swirl cried, launching into a chant that rolled and dipped through sonorous phrases. As always, his horn began to shine, and within seconds, Clover had to shield his eyes with his hoof, lest the horn blind him. Wind seemed to swirl in from the floor, blowing all of their manes into tangled knots. As Star Swirl’s chanting reached a fever pitch, he pointed to Clover.

“Your majesty,” Clover said urgently. “Remember what we’ve told you! Concentrate on the empire. Concentrate on your people. You must think of your family and think of your bride!" Clover watched as the king’s face slackened, his thoughts propelled out of control by the spell’s power. “Concentrate!” Clover screamed, allowing himself a sigh of relief as the king’s eyes began to focus again. “You’ll be their savior, King Sombra,” he bellowed, “but you must focus!”

Slowly, Sombra’s face tightened and he snarled, gritting his teeth against the spell’s mental pressure. Clover stepped back as the king was lifted from the ground and he floated above the mirror-like marble floor. Ascending and descending at the same time, Clover thought, as he watched the king’s mirror image recede from him.

A subtle change in Star Swirl’s tone brought Clover out of his thoughts, and he galloped over to the queen. She was shaking as she watched her husband rise above the ground, caught in the throes of Star Swirl’s magic. Her eyes streaming, she looked down to where Clover stood miserably.

“Something’s wrong, isn’t it?!” she screamed at him. “Look at him! Something’s going wrong! You said he’d be safe!”

“No!” Clover said, attempting a smile. It felt ghastly. “Everything is going just as Star Swirl said it would. It’s all under control. Just remember what Star Swirl said." The queen took a few steadying breaths, trying to look anywhere but at her floating husband. “You need to think of your love for the king, and only that.”

“Now?” the queen said uncertainly.

“Yes, now,” Clover said, doing his very best to radiate calm. “Your love will fortify the spell and protect the empire, but you must be steadfast. Think of everything that you’ve ever loved about your husband.”

Queen Crystal closed her eyes, her face relaxing into a state of tranquility. She started briefly as her hooves lifted off the floor.

“Focus, your highness,” Clover called out to her. “Remember your love!”

Throwing her head back, Queen Chrystal allowed herself to be carried by the spell’s swirling winds and she rose high above the floor, and out of the range of Clover’s voice. Finally! he thought bitterly. I’ll gag if I try to say another word!

Star Swirl thrust his hooves high overhead, tilting his head back and squeezing his eyes shut in concentration as he reined in the vast cosmic forces he’d summoned. His chanting soon became a command, and Clover shivered as the primal forces of magic ripped through the room. He could feel the air around him pulsing and bending, caught between otherworldly forces. Before him, Star Swirl seemed to writhe and shimmer as reality itself buckled under the spell’s pressure, and Clover’s stomach heaved. Having completed Star Swirl’s appointed tasks, Clover gave in to the nausea and vomited. Wiping his mouth with the back of a hoof, he let his eyes roll up to the figures floating above him.

Delicate pink tendrils of translucent energy emanating from the queen were twisting through the air. Clover breath caught in his throat as they coiled like a single living thing, and then plunged into the king’s chest. Arching back, Sombra screamed, and the queen’s eyes snapped open. Clover gasped as glowing veins of green and black shot from the king, through the tendrils of the queen’s love, and into his bride.  Queen Chrystal cried out, and the energy flowing from her snapped, dissolving away into the air. Suddenly the royal couple were both falling.

“NO! Clover screamed at them. “You must do this!" Feeling panic rising inside him, he quickly looked to Star Swirl, who was choking and gasping his way through the ritual’s final moments, but he could see the sorcerer’s skin beginning to split from the effort of controlling the faltering spell. Star Swirl’s embroidered cape darkened as blood from dozens of wounds seeped into it. “Remember your promise!” he screamed at the royal couple. “Remember your love for the Empire and for each other! You can save them all! IF YOU’VE EVER LOVED YOUR HUSBAND, YOU MUST CONCENTRATE ON IT RIGHT NOW, OR YOU WILL LOSE EVERYTHING!” he bellowed. Even at this distance, he could clearly see the tears falling from the queen’s eyes as they streamed out behind her. To Clover, each one of them seemed like  an accusation.

I’m sorry, something whispered in Clover’s mind, and suddenly he was the one falling. Writhing on the floor, he gasped as darkness flooded his mind. Every wrong he’d committed, every moment of despair, every loss threatened to overwhelm him. Shaking, he managed catch Chrystal out of the corner of his eye.

The twisting pink energy had burst from the queen once more, and now slammed into the her husband. Soon Sombra was screaming again as the pair ascended. The queen’s tears flowed freely now, but Clover could see that her jaw was set and the power between them was strong.

“INCATUM FINALOS!” Star Swirl roared, and the twisting beams of energy flared. Clover was momentarily blinded. Squinting and blinking, he shielded his eyes with a hoof, and then gasped; Sombra was fading before his eyes. Clover could clearly see the wall behind him. In fact, the only part of the king that seemed substantial was his beating heart, surrounded by the queen’s writhing, green-and-black-laced tendrils of pink energy.

Unable to look away, Clover traced those eldritch lines back to the horrified queen. Floating above him, she screamed as she watched her husband fade away. Clover vomited again as he watched her begin to blacken and shrivel. The spell’s sucking her dry! he thought. What have we done?!

With a clinical detatchment, Star Swirl watched as the last of the queen’s love fortified Sombra’s beating heart. Fishing a velvet bag from his supplies, the magician trotted to the circle that Sombra had once stood in and waited. As the pink aura faded from around the heart, it began to harden and cool, gleaming like polished crystal as it floated above him.

As suddenly as it had begun, the spell ended, and both Chrystal and the heart dropped unceremoniously to the floor. Star Swirl neatly caught the falling heart, and Clover dove to catch the queen, but he was nowhere near close enough. He winced as she slammed into the floor with a sickening thud.

For a moment, all was silent. Then Star Swirl tied the string at the bag’s mouth closed, and sat down heavily.

“There,” he said wearily. “It’s done.”

One Day Before The Ritual - Bluestreak

One Day Before The Ritual - Bluestreak

Bluestreak’s eyes fluttered open as dust rained onto his muzzle. He was supposed to be guarding the doorway to the bunker’s inner command center, but he’d been on active duty more than a day now, and he was worn out. Rolling his eyes up to the ceiling, he noted dully that the crack in the ceiling above him was widening.

When he’d first arrived on the front, he’d been so terrified that he thought he would never sleep again, but soon enough he’d found a combination of terror and boredom had exactly the opposite effect. Even now, with the battle going so poorly, he could barely keep his eyes open.

Quit worrying, he chided himself, covering his wide yawn with a dirty hoof. That stone is ten feet thick. Nothing’s getting through that.

As the heavy wooden door slammed abruptly against the wall beside him, Bluestreak jumped, snapping to attention and wishing he could rub his chest where his heart was hammering wildly. Deep in conversation, the two ponies emerging from the interior command center didn’t even spare him a cursory glance.

“We’ve got no choice! We have to hold!” the larger of the two growled.

Bluestreak kept his eyes respectfully focused on the wall in front of him, but pursed his lips. He had no love for Ironsides, the company captain. He’d heard all kinds of stories about the enormous, shaggy stallion. How he was obsessed with glory. How victory was more important than the lives of his soldiers. In Bluestreak’s tenure as a guard, he’d never seen Ironsides do anything that would dispel those rumors.

How long’s it been since you’ve gone out there and risked your neck? Bluestreak wondered, staring with distaste at the back of the captain’s head.

“That’s what I keep telling you!” the smaller pony shrieked. “There will be no holding! We must retreat!”

Bluestreak winced, attempting to rub his ear without drawing attention to himself. Battleplan had joined the company several months ago when they’d lost their original strategist in a surprise attack, and had been rubbing them all the wrong way ever since. His nasally, screeching voice sounded to Bluestreak like rusty nails and broken glass being dragged across a blackboard.

“We’ve been driven back on all fronts!” Battleplan continued, absently pulling his ill-fitting uniform back into place. Bluestreak had often wondered if they’d needed to make Battleplan’s uniform especially for him. Where Captain Ironsides was a muscular brute of a stallion, Battleplan was anything but. Fat bulged out from beneath his uniform jacket, but his legs were so spindly that Bluestreak often wondered how they didn’t snap under the strategist’s weight. “We don’t have the ponypower or the resources to hold this position!”

Ironsides whirled, snatching the front of his strategist’s uniform in his hoof, lifting Battleplan’s front hooves several inches from the ground. “We will hold!” he snarled into Battleplan’s face. As his collar twisted painfully into his neck, Battleplan choked and pulled ineffectually at Ironsides’ hoof. “Now get back in—”

A sudden, intense concussion hit the base and Bluestreak stumbled, slamming his head against the wall. For a moment, he lay dazed on the ground, comforted by the cool stone floor.

So tired, he thought, blinking away the brilliant spots swimming before him. I’m so tired of all of this. He glanced over just in time to see Ironsides heave off Battleplan’s corpulent, quaking body. The strategist landed a few feet away with a flabby thud.

Bluestreak grabbed his spear and scrambled to his hooves. He wanted to return to his position before Ironsides could turn around. He’d seen what being on the wrong end of Ironside’s temper could be like, and the captain looked angier today than Bluestreak had ever seen him before.

Moving slowly, Bluestreak leaned over and quietly spit out the blood that had filled his mouth. Though he couldn’t remember it, he must have bitten his tongue when he’d hit the wall. Shuddering, he worked his tongue around his teeth, trying to scrape away the blood’s flat iron taste. He hated having blood in his mouth. It reminded him of every schoolyard fight he’d ever lost. It tasted like defeat.

“Now listen to me, you fat, useless coward!” Ironsides yelled, his lower jaw jutting forward as he advanced on the cowering strategist. “The king himself put me in charge of holding this valley, and I am not going to lose it!" As the captain advanced on Battleplan, Bluestreak began to sweat more profusely. Ironsides’ eyes were brilliantly white. His pupils seemed to be mere pinpoints in the fort’s dim emergency lighting.

He looks like a trapped animal,Bluestreak thought, swallowing hard. Like a mouse that’s been backed into a corner by a cat. He knows that it’s fight or die! For the first time, he felt a surge of pity for the mewling strategist as the captain towered above him. But how can we fight that thing? We don’t even know what it is!

Battleplan got his shaking legs back under him and stood with a groan. Busying himself with dusting off his uniform, he avoided Ironside’s intense stare. “We’ve lost eighty-five percent of our force. There is approximately one week’s worth of food in storage, and less than that in munitions." Battleplan raised his eyes hesitantly up to the captain’s face, and immediately wished he hadn’t. He’d been hoping another logical breakdown of the situation might sway the captain, but his unyielding, furious face told the strategist that nothing short of total obliteration would force Ironsides to see the battle for what it was: a totally lost cause. “We simply don’t have the resources,” he finished miserably.

“Then I’ll order all reserve and support forces to join the front!” Ironsides spat out, clipping each word short with his snapping teeth. “The enemy won’t expect it! One final push, and this battle is ours!”

“There are no reserves!” Battleplan screamed. Throwing caution to the wind, he grabbed the captain’s lapels and attempted to shake the hulking stallion, with little success. “We’ve already sent them all out—”

Another explosion rocked the base, and Bluestreak followed the crack above him with his eyes as it snaked its way across the ceiling. He shifted uneasily, glancing at the reinforced steel door that opened out into the once-lush valley that bordered the Crystal Empire. It was the only way in or out.

Maybe I should tell them, he thought, licking his lips nervously. He tried to tell himself he was imagining the faint cracking sound above him, but as more dirt began to fall around him, he found himself unconsciously edging for the door to the surface. Frowning, he forced himself back to his assigned position. I don’t even know why I’m still here, he thought, leaning on his spear as the ground continued to shake. I’m just a guard. That thing out there is leveling whole platoons!

The two oblivious stallions arguing before him reminded Bluestreak of his mother and father. When King Sombra had instituted the draft, his father had been all for it, proclaiming that it was necessary for all Crystal Empire ponies to do their part in this time of aggression. His mother had argued vehemently against sending untrained bakers and gardeners off into war to die by the hundreds. It was one thing for soldiers to do it, she’d said. They’d signed up for it. It was another thing entirely to force ponies into battle. She’d said they were risking more lives by possibly putting inexperienced and unwilling troops onto the battlefield.

On and on they’d argued, until the day his letter had finally come. His parents had stared at it in quiet horror as he packed up his saddlebags. Finally, his father had taken him aside and offered to send him away to Hoofington. It was big enough that a pony could hide there, if he was smart and kept his nose clean, his father had said. But Bluestreak had refused. He’d lived all his life in the Crystal Empire, and everypony that he knew was being called off to war. He’d felt it was his duty to help out.

I’m such an idiot! he thought as he watched his superiors scream into each other’s faces. These guys don’t have any idea what they are doing. Why didn’t I run?! He glanced at the heavy steel door. I could still run! Bluestreak lightly bit down on his swollen tongue, hating the pain, but also perversely drawn to it. It was irresistible, in a way, and the pain helped to sharpen his mind. The stress was beginning to make him feel sleepy again. He could feel his body shutting down, wanting to hide away in unconsciousness. Unable to stop, he scanned the ceiling again, and felt his blood pressure rise. Secondary cracks were beginning to branch away from the main fissure. To Bluestreak, they looked like claws.

“Then find some way!” Ironsides screamed, saliva frothing at the sides of his mouth as he tore into Battleplan. “You’re supposed to be this great strategist! Figure something out!”

“I can’t squeeze blood from a stone,” Battleplan replied with surprising strength, “but you’re going to find a lot of blood on your hooves if you don’t order a retreat!" Battleplan’s knees were knocking so loudly that Bluestreak could hear them all the way over at his post, but the rotund stallion held his ground. “No matter how much they might wish to, a school of salmon cannot fight a grizzly! We don’t have any options left!”

A grizzly, huh? Bluestreak thought, reflexively clenching and unclenching his grip on his spear. The solidity of it felt reassuring. If only it was a grizzly! If we only knew what it was at all! Eyes on the ceiling again, Bluestreak was reminded of the snaking lines of marching soldiers that he’d arrived with. They’d seemed invincible to him. Row after row of recruits, fresh out of training and ready to help defend the empire. He’d felt so proud. Terrified, but proud; not just of himself, but for all of them. For the whole empire because they’d chosen to fight.

That sure didn’t last long, he thought, sucking his teeth. The taste of blood was still thick in his mouth, and he’d never wanted a drink of water so badly in his life. We thought the troops would welcome us with open arms! We thought we’d be heroes! They treated us like we were a bunch of morons, and they were right. We *were morons. We were just too naive to know it yet.*

When Bluestreak had arrived, he’d been bitterly disappointed that he’d pulled guard duty as his assignment. He’d been daydreaming of serving on the battlefield, working shoulder to shoulder with the other recruits to help protect his brothers-in-arms. Maybe even winning a medal or two he could show to the cute mares back home. The veterans had treated him like he was out of his mind when he’d complained loudly in the mess hall. They’d told him that he had no idea what he was talking about and to shut his mouth.

Little by little, he started to get the picture. Stories came back of terrible, vicious battles where the rules of reality itself didn’t seem to apply. Gravity would reverse, and suddenly whole battalions would fall into the sky, screaming, never to be seen again. Soldiers would mistake friend for foe and fall on each other, stabbing the life out of the pony next to them without realizing that they themselves were impaled. Battlefields transformed into vast living carnivals, with rides that whirled and tilted, scooping up screaming stallions and drawing them into their mechanical maws.

With ever-increasing and alarming frequency, panicked sergeants and lieutenants thundered past his post to breathlessly recount losses so terrible that Bluestreak would suffer from nightmares for weeks afterward. These days, it seemed he was always on the verge of falling asleep, but he never seemed to be able to drop off when he returned to his cot.

As the bunker shook violently again, the ceiling shuddered. Bluestreak gulped as tertiary stress fractures snaked off past his field of vision. Taking a few deep breaths, he stood at attention again. “Sir, may I make a report?” he said, saluting.

Locked in a battle of wills with Battleplan, Ironsides didn’t spare Bluestreak so much as a glance. “No one asked you for your—” he began, snarling out the side of his mouth.

Then, chaos descended upon them. With a deafening crash, the ceiling gave way. For perhaps the thousandth time, Bluestreak thanked his lucky stars that he’d been assigned guard duty. His proximity to the walls of the inner command office were all that saved him from the falling rubble. As the ceiling began to fall, he’d ducked into the recessed doorway and thrown his hooves over his head. Coughing and dazed, he felt uncontrollable laughter welling up inside of him.

“And I used…  I used to… to complain about this post!” he cackled. In the ruined bunker, it was nearly pitch black, and the air was thick with dust. Despite his best efforts, the laughing caused Bluestreak to take a deep breath, and he started coughing. A deep, hacking cough, that only filled his lungs with more dust. Rolling over onto his side, he covered his mouth with his hoof, trying to get himself under control. I hated this stupid guard job and I’m probably the only one left in the whole division! he thought. Inside, he felt the laughter trying to fight its way out again. A wild, screaming laughter that might never stop. A laugh that didn’t move up past your mouth and left your eyes looking terrified and out of control.

“Well,” a jovial voice called out somewhere above him, “that performance certainly brought the house down, didn’t it?”

“Who’s…” Bluestreak croaked, coughing. “Who’s there?" He attempted to get up, but hissed in pain as something pulled on his tail. Turning, he was dismayed to feel that it was caught beneath what was surely tons of rubble.

“Why, do we have a survivor?” the voice called merrily. “Ah, that good ol’ pony will to live! It’s so inspiring! I’m simply moved to tears!" As the voice broke into comically loud sobs punctuated by trumpet-like blasts that sounded like an elephant blowing its nose, Bluestreak frantically ran his hooves along the doorway. When he slammed his leg into the shaft of his spear, he nearly fainted with relief. Turning it awkwardly in the tiny space, he set the sharpened edge against his tail and started sawing.

“So, what did you think of my bombastic performance today in this great theatre of war?” the voice called out again, snickering. “Did you have a blast? All of your ponies friends did, I can assure you of that! They were so moved that they simply went all to pieces over it!”

“What do you want with us?!” Bluestreak screamed out, ripping the last of his tail out from beneath the boulder. “We didn’t do anything to you!”

“What do I want?” the voice replied with a silkiness that reminded Bluestreak of a coiled viper. “I want what we all want. A little fun. Some good times. Your king’s head on a platter and dominion over the world. You know, the basics.”

Bluestreak cringed against the wooden door as the huge boulders in front of him began to shift. Shaking, he watched as they floated gracefully up and out of the ruined bunker, and that laughter began to well up again as he noticed that each one was tied to a smiling balloon. In the middle of it all, a patchwork monster stood, silhouetted against the blood-red setting sun. With reflexes that he wasn’t even aware he had, Bluestreak cocked his leg back and threw the spear into the creature’s chest. I got him! he thought, grinning savagely.

In the blink of an eye, the monster grew in tenfold in size, until it towered over Bluestreak. With a horrifying casualness, it plucked the spear from the air with its lion-like paw and began to use it as a toothpick, working it around a single protruding fang.

“As for what you’ve done to me, well, why don’t you ask your king about that one, eh?” the monster said to him. “I’m sure he’ll be able to make it… crystal clear!" The best threw its head back and roared with laughter.

Bluestreak took the opportunity to jump to his hooves and begin scrambling out of the bunker. He didn’t know what this insane thing was going to do next, but it was his only shot. He’d have to make a run for it and hope this thing was slower than it looked.

“That’s right, pawn!” the thing called out. “Run on home and ask good King Sombra how he’s rooked the Crystal Empire!”

Bluestreak put his head down and pumped his legs for all they were worth. He’d been a mediocre student and an average soldier, but there was one thing he was better at than anypony else: He was the fastest stallion in the Crystal Empire, and he used every bit of that speed as he ran from the living nightmare.

Four Hours Before The Ritual - Cobblestone Cream

Four Hours Before the Ritual - Cobblestone Cream

Cobblestone Cream kicked at the loose stones outside her house, scanning the city with disdain. She hated Crystal City. Her parents had moved here from Detrot when she was just a year old, and she thought that was probably the dumbest thing they’d ever done. And that was saying something, because she hated her parents, too.

Sighing, she kicked another rock and watched it arc across the street, landing in her neighbor’s neatly manicured bushes. I hope he hits it with those stupid, loud trimmer things and they break! she thought, making a face at his house. Cobblestone hated her neighbor. That’d teach him to make noise when ponies are trying to sleep!

Cobblestone perked up at the sound of hoofbeats. These days, Crystal City seemed almost deserted. All of the young stallions, and quite a few of the mares, had gone off when King Sombra had told them to go fight, and that had included her brother. Now, whenever she heard hoofbeats, she ran to the window, just it case he was finally coming home.

She hadn’t seen Flagstone for at least a year now, and while she just shrugged when her parents asked about him, she spent more time in his room than hers. Lying on his bed and leafing through his yearbooks, she wished she could talk to him again. He wasn’t lame like all the rest of the ponies. Flagstone always made her laugh and told her how to sneak around their parents to do something fun. When they were still really little, he even kicked some colt right in the nose so hard that the colt had missed three days of school. Flagstone had been suspended, but he’d said it had been worth it because no pony picks on his little sis.

Cobblestone turned and waited, hoping. Whoever it was, they were coming really fast, and that made Cobblestone’s heart race. Flagstone had been on the track team at school, and he could really run.

As she waited, a cold breeze bit at her skin, and she pulled Flagstone’s letterpony jacket more snugly around her. Stupid winter, she thought, shivering. Cobblestone hated winter. She hated being cold and cooped up with her dumb parents.

Finally, the runner rounded the corner and started up her street. Cobblestone’s mouth turned sour and she kicked another rock extra hard, blinking back tears. It wasn’t her brother. It was just some lame blue pony that she didn’t know. She watched him sullenly as he streaked past her, grudgingly allowing that he was pretty fast, at least. He neared her, then passed her all in the blink of an eye.

Cobblestone frowned as she watched him turn another corner and disappear into the deepening gloom. The streets should have been lit up at this hour, but no pony bothered going around and lighting the streetlamps anymore. Flicking her half-lidded eyes back and forth, she saw far more darkened houses than occupied ones. Anypony who was smart had left Crystal City long ago, but she was still here because her parents weren’t smart. They were stupid, just like this city.

Cobblestone only knew some of what was going on. Some outside army was attacking the empire, but the soldiers were fighting them off. Her dad said they were winning, but it might be a little while before the soldiers came home. Looking around, it didn’t look like they were winning, but her dad was an idiot, so what did he know? Still, she clung desperately to the idea. Whenever she thought anything else, her stomach twisted into knots. Her brother was out there.

I don’t know why we don’t all just move back to Detrot! she thought, glaring at the deserted houses. What’s so great about this stupid city, anyway? It’s not even pretty, anymore!

Like everypony else, she’d been dismayed to see the gargantuan crystals that permeated the city grow dark and cold, though she made sure not to show it. With each pony that left the city, more of the crystals’ internal light and warmth died. Now, it was almost always dark and cold, and it seemed to be getting worse every day.

The wind was picking up, and Cobblestone shivered. She didn’t want to go in, where her parents would be reading or cooking or whatever; Cobblestone knew that what they were mostly doing was pretending. They told her and each other that everything was okay, and that was one reason why she knew that they were totally dumb. They could lie to each other if they wanted to, but Cobblestone wanted to know the truth.

For a little while, she’d asked around. When direct questions had gotten her in trouble with adults, she started trying to just get ponies talking about the war, hoping something would slip out. But she soon realized that no pony knew anything. They all just told each other the same stories over and over, and any time she brought up questions they told her to shut her mouth.

“Cobblestone, why don’t you come in? It’s getting dark,”

Cobblestone rolled her eyes and turned toward her front door, where her mother was standing, holding it open. Taking her time, she slouched up the five steps to their porch and walked inside, dragging her hooves.

“Do you want some dessert, hun?” her mother asked, trotting into the kitchen. “I made some popsicles earlier,”

“What’d you make popsicles for?!” Cobblestone said, making a face. “It’s, like, freezing!”

“Watch your tone,” her father rumbled from the other room. Cobblestone could hear the pages of the newspaper rustling as he turned them. Cobblestone didn’t see the point in reading the newspaper. It never had any actual news.

“You know why,” her mother said, busying herself with the last of the dishes. “And don’t complain. They’re in the freezer if you want one.”

Cobblestone did know why: The stupid war. Crystal City had been on strict rations for two years now, and they never had anything anymore. Flour. Sugar. Coffee. Even water. It was all doled out by the government now. The markets had all been closed for years, and if you walked by them now, you had to cross the street. They were full of rats and many of the stalls had collapsed. Ponies had better things to worry about. So the families made do with what the government gave them, but Cobblestone was tired of the same things all the time. They’d gotten those stupid popsicle flavor packs four times in a row now.

Cobblestone shivered. “No thanks,” she muttered, heading for her room. At least there, she could put on some music and get under the blankets. She’d been cold all day.

“Well, take one to your father,” her mother called out. Cobblestone winced and shot daggers at her mother through the hallway wall.

“Lime, please,” came the rumbling from the den.

“Lime, please!” Cobblestone mouthed silently, sticking out her tongue as she neared the door to the den, but she carefully forced her face back into its normally bored expression as she passed. She didn’t want restriction. She already spent enough time in the house.

“Here you go,” her mother said, twisting the popsicle rack to free the frozen dessert. Rolling her eyes as much as she could get away with, she grabbed the nearest green popsicle and pulled it out. Her skin crawled as the cold air around the stick chilled her hoof. She hurried out of the kitchen and into the den, wanting to be rid of it.

“Thanks, Cob!” her father said brightly. Whatever, she thought, nodding to her father before leaving. She hated when he called her Cob; she hated the name Cobblestone. She had no idea why they had chosen such a stupid name. Her family didn’t do anything with rocks and she wasn’t creamy looking at all. She was brown, and not even like a cute, chocolate brown. More like old mud.

Entering the hallway again, Cobblestone stomped back to her room, which was the furthest room away in the house. That suited her just fine. The further she could get away from her parents, the better. Twisting the knob, she pursed her lips as it made its telltale squeak. Something inside the mechanism was busted, and it squealed horrendously whenever she opened her door. Her dad joked that he kept it that way because it was like an alarm telling him when she was trying to sneak out, but the truth was that both the locksmiths that they knew were away at war, and her dad just didn’t know how to fix it.

Once in her room, she shut the door, not quite slamming it. She didn’t want her dad coming to give her a talk. Here, she could finally relax a little. Her room was a cheerfully chaotic mess of old school papers, notes from friends, music, and posters. As she fell onto the bed, she twisted out of Flagstone’s jacket, and threw it to the floor, where it sat in a rumpled heap. Cobblestone tried to ignore it, but finally got back up and hung it properly in the otherwise bare closet. All of the rest of her things were in a pile in the corner.

Jumping back into her bed, she grabbd the corner of her blanket and rolled, allowing her soft comforter to wrap itself tightly around her shivering body. Giving the room a final glance, she blew out the candle on her nightstand, plunging the room into darkness, save for the moonlight coming in from her bay window.

In the past, she’d loved sitting in that window, bathed in the soft, pastel glow of the giant crystals. Looking out, she could see the crystal ponies bustling to and fro, attending to the last of their chores. Off in the distance, the castle reached elegantly into the sky.

But now, the crystals were mostly dark, and nopony went anywhere, except off to war. She hadn’t sat in her bay chair for at least a year. What was the point? There was nothing to see that she hadn’t seen a million times before.

Hating herself for doing it, she poked her nose out from the blanket cocoon and stared down at the pile of books and papers that she knew the moonlight would be illuminating. They were her old school things, but she didn’t go there anymore. A year after the war had started, school had been called off. The teachers were needed for other things, and a lot of the older colts and fillies had been drafted into the auxiliary services. They were considered mature enough to do work behind the lines.

Still too young for that, Cobblestone now spent her days here in the house or wandering the streets. Her friends had mostly moved or gone off to the lines, but she’d still had one friend, Buttercup, until a few months ago. They’d gotten in a big fight, and Buttercup had stopped coming around. Whenever Cobblestone saw her, Buttercup just went back inside her house. Cobblestone didn’t even remember what the fight was about, but she’d be damned if she was going to be the one to come crawling back. She was fine on her own, and Buttercup was a moron, anyway.

Staring down at the disorganized mess of old papers and schoolbooks, Cobblestone let out a coughing sob, and then slapped a hoof over her mouth. She didn’t want company right now, and her mom had this spooky good hearing. Snarling, she threw one of her pillows at the offending materials and then froze.

The sky was suddenly filled with light. Brilliant, harsh, blinding whiteness that filled her room. Blinking furiously, she tried to get up, tangling herself in the sheets. As she fell to the floor, she kicked at the comforter until it released her, then jumped into the bay chair.

“The castle!” she cried, wide-eyed. “Mom! Dad! The castle’s on fire or something!”

From the other side of the house, she could hear the clattering of hooves hurrying down the hallway. With its terrible screech, her door opened and her parents nearly fell into the room, breathless. In the light’s brightness, their faces looked hollowed and desperate. The faces of ponies on the edge of something both terrible and completely alien.

Shaken, Cobblestone turned back to the castle. The light erupting from the castle’s central spire was dimming now, focusing up into the sky. The three ponies watched as the light punched a hole in the clouds and boiled into the upper atmosphere.

“D-dad,” Cobblestone said, her voice trembling. “What’s going on?”

For once, her parents didn’t have something stupid to say. They might not have even heard her. Cobblestone looked up at her father, and his jaw was just working, opening and closing without sound. Her mother’s eyes were open wide, and Cobblestone could clearly see the grotesque bags that had grown there recently that her mother had tried to cover with makeup. Cobblestone wondered if they were filled with tears.

“What is it? What’s going on?!” Cobblestone said again.

Her parents had no answer.

Three Hours Before the Ritual - King Sombra

Three Hours Before the Ritual - King Sombra

Sombra worried at his hoof with his teeth as he gazed absently out the elegantly arched window near his throne. Once, the nights in Crystal City had been filled with a soft pastel glow that had been the envy of their neighboring countries. Ponies had flocked here to walk side by side in the romantic light, making cherished memories to tell the ponies back home.

But that was before the war. As pony after pony left the city to join the front, or to escape to safer regions of the world, the famous crystals steadily lost their luster. Now, Crystal City was dark. Dark and cold and empty, Sombra thought, chewing relentlessly. Somewhere, another part of his mind screamed at him about decorum. He knew he was ruining yet another meticulously crafted hooficure; just another item in the long line of things he’d ruined since his ascension to the throne.

Somewhere nearby, ponies were talking. Sombra whipped his hoof from his mouth, scanning the throne room to see if anyone had noticed. He’d been drilled on royal etiquette for years, but the training seemed to be slipping away recently. Everything seemed to be slipping away.

Beside him, his bride and the shining queen of the Crystal Empire sat regally on her throne. As always, Sombra found it hard to swallow when he looked at her. Even now… he thought, sighing. Even after everything we’ve been through, she’s still so beautiful. Sombra wished for the hundredth time today that they could just retire from the throne and go out into the garden, just the two of them. To just be together for a little while, without the weight of governmental responsibility weighing down on them.

He’d loved Chrystal since they were foals. His family had been at the lower end of the Crystal Empire’s noble class, but they’d still received invitations from the royal family from time to time. It was during the first of these visits that he’d met Chrystal, and despite the princess being a year older, they quickly become friends.

Sombra had been in awe. He’d never really given fillies much thought before, but something about Chrystal made his heart beat faster. For weeks before the visits, he was be a wreck, unable to sleep or to eat. Sombra’s brothers teased him about his crush, but it had hardly mattered to him. Nothing mattered besides the reunion, but it seemed the closer he got to her, the harder things worked to keep them apart.

His mother tried to put a stop to it. She’d argued late into the night with his father that Sombra’s obsession was unhealthy. He was just a colt, after all. She pleaded with him to beg off the visits, and that it wasn’t fair to put Sombra through all of this when their family standing wasn’t nearly good enough for a marital union.

As the arguments escalated, his parents’ voices would ring through the halls of their small stone castle. Each pleading, nearly hysterical request from his mother and flat refusal from his father twisted the knife in his guts a little more. Each fight was an accusation and a burden, piling on top of him; reminding him over and over that he wasn’t good enough.

His father had asserted that there were ways. All Sombra needed to do was to make something of himself and all of the barriers would fall away. He repeated time and again that Sombra’s special relationship with the princess was advantageous to the family, and that a little puppy love never hurt anypony.

At some point, even his brothers had let up. Sombra lost so much weight that his ribs stood out clearly beneath his skin. When Chrystal next saw him, she’d gasped and insisted that he head straight to the kitchen where she could watch him eat. That was perhaps the happiest dinner they’d ever had together. Chrystal tucked them into an alcove in the kitchen, around a worn, well-loved table that the cooks used for their breaks, and together they’d eaten a small banquet of grains, exquisitely prepared by the staff. Chrystal had all the cooks wrapped around her hoof, of course. She was the radiant star that everypony wanted to shine on them, even if it was only briefly.

What had been special was Chrystal’s response. The royal family was cordial, but distant; they’d made it very clear that the only reason that Sombra’s family was entertained at court as often as they were was because of their daughter’s preference of playmates. Chrystal told Sombra again and again how she’d wheedled yet another invitation from her father just so they could hang out again, failing to realize that each of these stories was a dagger into Sombra’s heart. It was a constant reminder to him that she was ultimately unattainable.

“Dear, your hoof,” Chrystal said quietly.

Sombra shook himself, trying to resurface from the memories that threatened to engulf him at all times now. Whipping his hoof from his mouth again, he sat up and tried to appear regal. The courtiers politely ignored the transgression, but he could feel their disdain. To them, he was just one step above common; a bumbling buffoon who was pretending at greatness.

That hadn’t always been the case. For a brief time, they hadn’t been able to get enough of him. Everypony adores a literal knight in shining armor, after all, and after his great deed, his armor had shined brightest of all.

When he’d gotten old enough, he joined the royal guard. His father was incredibly proud, believing that military distinction was the surest way for Sombra to improve his standing. Sombra had prayed that Chrystal could pull some strings and he’d end up as a guard at court.  He was ready to shoulder any task that would keep them together.

Neither had happened. He’d ended up as a border guard, protecting the kingdom from encroaching trees and the dire villainy of poorly-repaired roads. He, along with the rest of the soldiers, complained loudly that they were nothing but day laborers with spears. But it did them no good, and Sombra fell into despair, performing the bare minimum to get by without disciplinary action.

It had been there that he’d met the monstrosity who’d ruined everything.

While out on patrol, he’d heard wild laughter deep in the woods, and he’d gone off to investigate. Procedure dictated that he report back immediately and request a squad, but Sombra was sick to death of procedure. He’d grown to hate most of the spoiled nobles that were in his division; each one of them trying harder than the other to prove that their bloodline was older and more pure. They brayed to each other constantly about how many times they’d been to court and how Chrystal favored them above all others. Only Sombra knew that they were all lying, and through that, he learned what a hollow thing nobility truly was. These ponies were to be the future rulers of the Crystal Empire! The thought of it made Sombra want to vomit.

Sombra had been so startled when he entered the darkened grove that he’d dropped his spear, and ended up tripping on it as he scrambled backward. Before him, a sinuous, motley creature stood howling in a large mud puddle. A lively pink shower cap with a speckled daisy pattern sat atop the thing’s head, stretched tightly over some sort of protuberances, and the beast was scrubbing itself vigorously with what appeared to be a very frightened flamingo. Worst of all, the puddle was raining a steady stream of brown water up into the sky.

“Ah!” the creature had cried, as it pulled a shower curtain closed from thin air. “Naughty, naughty, pony!" It coyly turned, staring at him with one gleaming eye over the curtain. “Ah, well. It can’t be helped, I suppose. It’s what comes of lack of specifics! Here I’d asked for a shower, and I’m showered with attention!" As it turned to leer at Sombra, the thing’s fang glistened. “Wanna scrub my back?” it continued, waving the flamingo at him.

Sombra had felt his skin grow cold and clammy, and he scrambled to get up, only to catch his hoof on his spear again. As he tried to run, it rolled out from beneath him, and he fell. Sprawling, he wiggled backwards the way he’d come as quickly as his awkward position would allow.

“Oopsie!” the creature said, grinning. “Ponies always seem to be trying to give me the slip, but yours is a truly novel approach, ace. Nice form, though leaving something to be desired in the artistic aspects. A solid seven point five." With a snap of its fingers, the thing had dismissed the ersatz shower and walked toward him, claws clasped behind its back.

“So, what should we play now, hmm?” it had asked, leaning over him. Sombra shrank away as it lunged forward, but the creature merely lifted the unicorn to his hooves again, summoning a small army of whisk brooms that descended on Sombra in a mad, dirt-annihilating frenzy. “It’s a good thing you came along, little friend. I haven’t had a decent laugh in minutes,” the creature continued, chuckling as the brooms continued their assault, “but now that I’ve, ah… swept you off of your hooves, we can get down to some serious hilarity!”

“What… are you?” Sombra had asked with some difficulty. In a desperate attempt to keep his skin, he used his magic to immobilize the whisk brooms, but they continued to struggle valiantly.

The monster had rolled its eyes. “What am I?” the creature rumbled, its mouth curling ever so slightly. “My, my. The manners ponies have these days. If I were a bush…” the thing said, gesturing with its claws. Sombra’s scream was cut off as he transformed into a small, green muleberry bush. “… or a tree…" Sombra suddenly swelled in size as his body became an oak. “… or a pest…" To Sombra’s amazement, he was briefly a sleek white alicorn mare with a sun on her flank before returning to his normal body. “… I’d be a ‘what’! However, I’m a ‘who’ and you’d do well to remember that, sport. Getting on my bad side can be a transformative experience for anypony.”

Sombra’s mouth had sagged open as the creature fell to the ground, cackling and clutching its stomach. “Oh! Oh, you should see the look on your face! You’re simply too much!”

“I-I should be getting back to my post…” Sombra had said, retrieving his spear and backing away. He was afraid to take his eyes off of the twisted thing before him.

“Oh, don’t be such a spoilsport, sport,” it had replied, rising again. Sombra began to tremble as the grove dimmed. All around him, the plants rustled, growing wild and lush. Suddenly, the grove was surrounded by thousands of twisting vines, each one sporting hundreds of glistening barbs. “Getting out of here is going to be a thorny problem, as you can see,” the beast said, breaking off one of the barbs and inspecting its glistening tip. “Ooh, poison! My favorite!” it continued, breaking into a wide grin before tossing the thorn into its gaping mouth. “Kind of an aperitif, you know,” it said, eyeing Sombra.

“I… um…” Sombra said, his eyes darting frantically, looking for a way out.

“Fine, fine. I suppose I’ll do the introductions,” the monster had said, shrugging its shoulders and sighing dramatically. “My name’s Discord.”

Sombra’s body had stiffened as Discord snapped his fingers. Suddenly, he was walking toward the monstrosity, his hoof extended. Panicking, Sombra tried to stop, but his body refused to obey. “Hi, Discord! So nice to meetcha!” he’d heard himself say cheerfully. “Why you’re positively the most charming and devastatingly handsome draconequus that I’ve ever met!”

“Oh, you flatterer!” Discord had said, fluttering his eyelids. “The tales you tell! Well, by all means, please continue…” Sombra’s mind recoiled as the last few words taking on a sinister tone.

“Well, golly-gosh!” Sombra said. “Not much to tell really. I’m just another fool of a pony from the Crystal Empire that got lucky!”

“Really?” Discord replied, summoning a notepad and a fedora. “Do tell. All of it.”

And Sombra had. Every memory. Each experience. For hours, he’d poured his life out to the creature. He’d felt his voice going hoarse, but his body just kept going, forcing the words out in an unending stream.

Finally, well into the night, he’d stopped, having exhausted his life’s story. Discord eyed him with a mixture of comical boredom and disdain. “Sheesh!” he sighed in disgust. “Moping around in the background, hoping for royal scraps." Sombra screamed inside as his body nodded vigorously. “What a good little lapdog you are! It must be adorable when the princess takes you for a walk.”

At the mention of his beloved Chrystal, Sombra’s anger had flared.  Snarling, he’d pushed against the wall Discord had erected in his mind. Pressing it with his will, he felt something bending, and he’d thrown every bit of mental energy he could muster against it.

“Well, well!” Discord had said, as Sombra fell to the ground. “There is a little bite to go with that bark! Jolly good!" Discord hunkered down in front of the breathless unicorn. “How’d you like to learn to fetch, Rover?”

“What?” was all Sombra had been able to manage. The effort of breaking Discord’s spell left him gasping.

“Well, my fine friend, I have just what you need,” Discord had answered, lowering his face until it was only inches from Sombra’s. “You want to be the big hero, right? If you really want to win the hoof of your princess, you’ll need to do something other than stomping around at the border, scaring all manner of ferocious bunnies and birdies, eh?" A smile slithered across Discord’s face. “Luckily for you, I have the key to your love’s heart, and because we’re such great pals, you and I, I’m willing to share it with you…" Discord had leaned in further, his irregular eyes growing impossibly wide, “… for a price!

“You see,” Discord continued, rising again to pace, “I know of the Crystal Empire’s royal family and their struggles. Of course, you’re familiar with the central spire, aren’t you?”

Sombra had nodded numbly. The castle was built around a large tower, but nopony had ever figured out how to get into it. Some unseen force repelled any attempt to fly onto its turrets or into its windows.  A mysterious staircase could be seen, descending into some lower recess of the castle. No royal family in recorded history had ever figured out where those steps originated from, but they held a similar enchantment.  All who approached were forced away.

In the absence of knowledge, legends had filled the void. Rumors always circulated within the castle as to what might be up there: Lost magic. Ancient weapons. A treasure; wealth beyond imagining. It could be anything, and in the imaginations of the people of the Crystal Empire, it was.

Discord had stopped his pacing, gazing coolly at Sombra. “What if you opened that door, Sombra?” Discord said in his smooth voice. “What if you came back as the big hero?" Discord suddenly transformed into an owl. An owl with a disturbingly long fang. Landing on Sombra's back, he whispered into the stallions ear.  “Wouldn’t that be a hoot?”

~~~

Lost in his memories, Sombra missed the blue stallion as he rammed the massive double doors with his shoulder, knocking the surprised guards away in his frenzied scramble to the throne. The courtier erupted, screaming for help, and the queen half rose from her seat before the guards tackled the gasping stallion. Through it all, Sombra stared at the window, chewing on his hoof.

“Your… Majesties!” the gasping soldier has finally managed as the guards began to haul him away. “News from the front! We’ve been defeated! All is lost!”

For a moment, all was silent. Then the courtiers began to wail. Unnerved, the guards gruff voice joined them, calling out for answers, all of them screaming at a king who heard nothing.

Two Hours, Forty-Five Minutes Before the Ritual - Queen Chrystal

Two Hours, Forty-Five Minutes Before the Ritual - Queen Chrystal

He’d better not be chewing on his hoof again, Queen Chrystal thought as she watched the petitioner before her flick his eyes questioningly to where her husband sat. The queen tried to maintain her poise, but she knew he must be lost in thought again. She could feel his inattention like a physical force, weighing on her. These days, It seemed that he lived in his memories more often now than in the real world. It angered her, but she also understood; their world was dark now.

Where did we err? the queen thought, doing her best to appear calm and collected as she watched the petitioner’s brow knit. The Crystal Empire used to be the shining jewel of Equestria. She allowed her gaze to travel around the half-empty audience chamber. Several key councilors seats sat empty and had been that way for months. The rows of benches where the petitioners and courtiers usually sat while waiting for their moment before the royal couple were largely empty. Those in attendance fidgeted, constantly looking around the room for help that never appeared. Where did it all go so wrong? she wondered, wanting badly to cry, but refusing to allow the tears to come. Late at night, long after her husband had gone to sleep, was when she could fall apart. But not here. Her people needed strength, and she refused to let them down.

“So, as you can see,” the petitioner said, shaking away his perplexed expression to address the queen again, “it would be in our best interest to do an entire zonal realignment within the city. With sixty-eight percent of the population gone, the old laws are wreaking havoc with our taxes and service allocations. My shop falls—”

“Yes,” the queen cut in, glancing to her right in spite of herself. As expected, Sombra was absently chewing on his hoof as he stared out the window, completely oblivious to his surroundings. The queen pursed her lips before turning back to the nervous shop owner. “We’ve already commissioned a study of our zoning regulations." She smiled down at her subject, and it transformed him. She watched as he relaxed, relief settling over him like a warm down quilt. “We just ask that you maintain your patience for a few more weeks and then we will announce a council meeting detailing our findings and proposed solutions.”

“Oh, thank you!” the shop owner said, offering up a weak smile of his own. “We’ve been without utilities for a month now, since our residential zone was declared abandoned. It’ll be a great relief to get them reinstated!”

As the queen watched her subject trot away, she continued to smile, knowing that the court saw it as confident and serene. Only she knew how empty it had become.

Her smile was once her greatest tool. Now, she fixed it into place each day, and it made her feel like a jack-o’-lantern. A grinning, empty thing with no strength and no voice. Something that was put out to show to the people. Something powerless.

“Is there anypony else with a question for the throne?" Her voice rang out, overly loud in the stillness of the throne room. Just a few years ago, this chamber had bustled with activity; the noisy, messy business of state, where each pony brought before her argued vigorously for favors and boons. Now, beyond a few courtiers that came each day out of habit, the chamber was nearly empty. She was lucky to see three ponies a day. So she sat for hours, looking at their sad faces. Wanting to scream and cry and beg them for forgiveness for something she didn’t even understand.

It hadn’t always been this way. As a filly, she’d wandered these halls, dashing from visitor to visitor, charming them all thoroughly. Even at a young age, she’d proven remarkably adept at changing minds and moods. She knew that with her soft silver coat and pale blue mane that she was unusually beautiful, and that beauty could change ponies’ minds. However, it was her tutor that had issued her the challenge that had changed her life.

With the king’s consent, she’d been assigned to work in a home for blind veterans of the King’s Army. There, she was tasked with helping to clean the facility and feed the infirmed. But her most important job had simply been to try and make the veterans happy.

She’d complained bitterly to her father about it for several weeks, but he remained steadfast. She rolled her eyes as he reminded her that it was the job of government to work for the people, and that community service helped to breed a cohesive and caring society. It would not do for the children of royalty to be sequestered away from the people, never getting to know those for whom they ruled.

Finally, defeated, she’d stomped out of the castle, ordering the guard to slam the door as she passed. Once at the home, she just put her head down and bent to the task, hardly uttering a word. They could make her work, but she didn’t have to like it. Hurrying through her tasks each day, she’d been eager to be on her way back to the relative freedom of her temporary apartment behind the facility.

However, over time, she’d found that her silence actually made the work more difficult because she couldn’t avoid hearing their stories. Try as she might, she couldn’t avoid the soldiers’ sad tales of bravery and loss as she brought them their meals in the cafeteria. She found out all about their lost loves and their children who never came to visit. She also heard all about her father, and what kind of king he was. Some of the soldiers cursed him for sending them off to war. Others argued back, saying that the king continued to care for them, even when their families had stopped visiting long ago. Without the state’s assistance, they most likely have starved to death.

Despite herself, she’d found herself wanting to get to know the soldiers. One by one, she learned their names:  Cannonball. He was always hot-headed. Quick to laugh or to yell when something had annoyed him. Battlecry. Remarkably soft-spoken, but unyielding when he’d made up his mind about something. Summer Sun. As happy and bright as his namesake. These and many others became her friends.

Which was not to say that it was easy. The soldiers were crotchety, ornery, crass, and fussy. If things weren’t just so, they behaved like children. There were times when Chrystal had longed to dump their food trays on their heads and be done with them, but she wasn’t a quitter. Moreover, she’d found that charming them with her voice alone was a much more interesting challenge than just batting her eyelashes at some desperate courtier.

So she’d stuck with it, eventually growing to enjoy the challenge, and then to enjoy the soldiers as friends. She learned to joke with them, and how to ease their pain when they were lost in memories of friends long dead. From them, she learned how ponies lived their everyday lives, working to provide for their families and doing things for themselves. She found herself admiring them. She’d never thought about it before, but their lives were much harder than she’d ever imagined. Laying in bed at night, her face burned as she remembered the times she’d scolded the castle servants for being late with her food or not having her bath water at precisely the temperature that she preferred. She vowed that she would apologize when she returned to the castle, and that she would never treat a pony that way ever again.

When her time of service was up a year later, she’d cried, hugging each of them in turn. She was amazed to see that they were crying, as well. They told her that she’d transformed the home from a sad place where they waited to die, into a place of laughter and joy. She told them that is was they who’d changed her. Heading home, she’d felt like an entirely new filly.

Returning to this she thought, looking over the empty throne room once more. Around her raised dais, stately marble columns rose to the ceiling. Like bars, she thought as she traced their length with her eyes. Like I’m in a cage.

As she tried to readjust to castle life once more, she’d felt the same way. Before she left, she’d been the darling of the court, and had done as she pleased. But upon her return, she was keenly aware that her behavior had often been brattish and spoiled. Furthermore, she’d gotten used to the relaxed protocol of the retired soldiers. The castle’s meticulous etiquette grated on her. Instead of finding ponies who were happy to simply meet her, the visitors now wanted to see what she could do for them. Now, each pony had an angle that they were working. The world had become schemes and machinations. More and more, Chrystal yearned for the simple times with the simple soldiers she’d grown to love.

She’d talked with her father and mother about it, and they took her out to the garden for a walk. There, they explained duty to her. Of course, she’d always known that she’d be ruling The Crystal Empire one day, but she’d never really thought about what it had meant.

Vigilance, they’d told her. Constant vigilance for both internal and external threats. While she needed to be able to identify with the common pony, she also had to be aware that they all wanted things, and that some were willing to go to great lengths to get them. That was what she was experiencing, they’d said. Being a ruler was an act of balancing the needs and desires of tens of thousands of ponies everyday. Kindness to one was often times cruelty to another, and she needed to learn how to walk carefully between the groups, never letting one side or the other gain too much.

And so, she'd learned to walk that perilous path inside the throne room, giving ambiguous answers to those that spoke to her. She charmed them with safe, meaningless nothings until their time before her parents came.

Until the day that Sombra had walked into the castle.

When he’d first appeared in court, she hadn’t thought much of him. As a young heather-coated colt, he wasn’t particularly robust, and his horn was stumpy. Her tutor had clucked disapprovingly at the family’s formalwear, rolling his eyes at their rather dated finery. While his father spoke with the throne, Sombra stayed close to him, occasionally touching the stallion's leg as if to assure himself that his father was actually still there. He’d looked a little frightened until he spotted Chrystal from across the room.

Chrystal had watched as his jaw slowly sagged open, and his clutching hoof dropped away from his father’s leg. Seemingly of their own accord, the little unicorn’s legs started toward the princess, first at a slow walk, and then breaking into a brisk trot. He was halfway to her chair before he seemed to realize that he was clattering his way through the royal audience chamber, his steel-shod hooves banging out a terrible racket. As the entire court stopped to watch him, he blushed furiously, but still came to her, this time much more slowly.

She’d shared a giggle with her tutor when his father moved to retrieve him, muttering furiously to his son as he’d dragged him back to the family by his ear. But through it all, Sombra hadn’t taken his eyes from her. Though she’d laughed, Chrystal had found his intensity to be both disturbing and captivating. She was used to being fawned over, but this was something entirely different. He looked sincere and strangely focused. Strangely adult. Above all, he looked hungry.

If only he’d show the same interest now, she thought, turning to stare at him again. With the petitioners gone, she no longer had to pretend he was doing his job. The courtiers were all used to it by now. They’d lost all respect for him long ago. Where does he go when he just fades away like that?  Why won’t he tell me? She sighed, biting her lip to stop the threat of tears. There was a time when he used to tell me everything!

Unbidden, the memory of her fourteenth birthday party bubbled up to her mind’s surface. By then, they’d become fast friends. She was a little wary of him, at first, but it was rare that fillies and colts of her age came to the castle. When he visited again, she grudgingly gave him a tour of the grounds at her father’s insistence. He’d mentioned to her that such favors had a way of instilling loyalty in the minor families.

To her surprise, when his family’s visit was over, she’d found herself missing him. During their brief time together, he quickly moved from nuisance to peer to confidante, and she hadn’t really had any friends since she’d left the retirement home. She found him to be reasonably intelligent and polite. He could make her laugh and he didn’t mind if she complained to him about castle life, but what had really impressed her was that he didn’t seem to want anything from her but time. He was content to just be with her, doing whatever it was that she wanted as long as they could do it together.

Yes, together, she thought, letting her eyes roam over him as he sat, lost in whatever memory held him. We used to do everything together. Now it’s all I can do to remind him that I’m even here. That the world is even here. He’s so focused on whatever this is! If only he’d just tell me! Chrystal banged her hoof down on the arm of the throne, instantly regretting it as the courtiers looked up. They were desperate for something to happen that could distract them from the castle’s generally miserable atmosphere. Isn’t that part of being in love? she thought. Aren’t there supposed to be no secrets between us?  But the way he still looks at me when we are alone, away from all of the pressure. I-I just don’t believe it’s gone! I know he still loves me!

Love. It had come after her relentlessly. After each of his visits, she ached for him more. Her father began to grow apprehensive as she requested that his family visit with increasing regularity. He sat his daughter down to explain the realities of adolescent colts and the dangers of indiscretion. Not to mention, he’d added, that Sombra’s was a minor family, and that they didn’t really bring any advantages to the table. Her parents had decided it was in her best interest to cut off the budding relationship.

For the first time in her life, she’d raged. Her father and mother were shocked, staring at one another with horror and bewilderment. Chrystal had always been a good filly; level-headed and dutiful, but there she was, screaming in a voice that shook the halls and sent the rumor-mongers into overdrive. After several days of tears and fury, they relented, but warned her to keep things under control. They would allow friendship, but nothing more. Sombra simply hadn’t the standing for a higher station.

They’d carried on in that emotional limbo for a year or so, each of them yearning, but not quite daring, to move forward. Sombra often talked of performing some great deed to improve his family’s standings, but they couldn’t ever think of what he ought to do. The Empire had been in a prolonged period of peace. There just hadn’t really been any pressing problems.

It had all changed when a different class of visitors began coming by the castle. Her father took her aside, and somewhat uncomfortably explained that many of the invitees henceforth would be families of good standing with eligible stallions. He’d wanted her to spend time with each and to see if any seemed like a good match.

She’d fretted for weeks about whether she should tell Sombra or not, but in the end she’d decided that they’d promised not to have any secrets from one another. She regretted it almost immediately.

He’d panicked, pouring out his heart, telling her all the things that were plainly apparent to anyone with at least some sense: That he’d loved her since he’d seen her that first time, and that he wouldn’t be able to bear it if she married another stallion.

They’d cried, alone in their special corner of the castle. The eastern tower once held the royal slaves, but the practice had been outlawed long ago as barbaric. And so they turned it into their sanctuary, though at the beginning, they were rarely able to go there unaccompanied. Once it had been apparent that Chrystal was not going to do something untoward, her mother and father had relaxed her supervision somewhat. They still posted a guard outside the door to whatever room they were in, but she was allowed some relative privacy with Sombra should she choose it.

It was in the tower that Sombra had told her his plan. He would join the army and hope that something would happen. He said his father had been pushing him for ages to enlist, since it was one of the few ways the family could advance. She’d hated the bitterness in his voice then. He always despised the greedy, grasping nature of his parents. Their obsession with improving their station was a constant embarrassment to him.

She’d tried to talk him out of it, but he was unusually steadfast. Before, he was generally happy to go along with whatever she’d planned for them, but the specter of her possible marriage had possessed his mind utterly. Even though she assured him that she hadn’t liked any of the stuffy, pompous stallions that had begun to travel to the Empire, she could tell that he was tearing himself to pieces over it. He losted weight, and the skin under his eyes began to hang in loose folds. Even when they were alone, he seemed nervous and fidgety.

When they had a brief moment together, Chrystal begged her father to station Sombra as one of the royal guards, but he refused. He said that it wouldn’t do to be seen giving plum job assignments out to friends of the court. Sombra would need to earn that duty through valor on the field. Chrystal suspected that her father had really just wanted the troublesome stallion out of the castle, and her fears were confirmed when he’d been assigned to the border, as far away from her as possible.

She’d hated her parents then. They pretended that they’d had nothing to do with the assignment, but how could they not have?  They were the king and queen, after all, and the military answered to them. If they’d asked for Sombra to be moved from the border, it would have happened the next day. But it hadn’t, and she refused to speak to them for weeks.

And so, Sombra disappeared for months, and they were the loneliest of her life. She hadn’t realized how much she’d come to depend on him. He was the one pony she was completely at ease with. He knew just how to make her laugh and when to be a shoulder for her to cry on. Then, suddenly, she had nopony, save for the near-constant barrage of suitors that seemed to besiege the castle.

On and on they came, one immediately following the other. Some were older ponies and some were terribly young. There were braggarts, snobs, louts, and weaklings. Very occasionally, there were even some who’d been somewhat appealing, but each one had a fatal flaw:  They were not Sombra.

Now, sweeping the throne room with her gaze, she was drawn again to the pillars surrounding the thrones. Yes, she thought. How very comfortable. I’ve been in cages all my life. Turning back to her husband, she cleared her throat, hoping he would turn to her, but he was still deep in his memories. The cage you put my heart in was the first one that I welcomed. she thought, sighing. And how it soared when you returned, bursting free to fly to you.

She could remember it like it was yesterday. The knock. The muffled, slightly embarrassed voice of the guard telling her that Sombra had returned, and that he insisted on seeing her. The guard sounded hopeful when he’d suggested that he could send Sombra on his way, reporting him to the guard for desertion, but Chrystal snapped that he would do no such thing. She pounded down the castle’s wide steps, the guard galloping after her, crying out for her to be careful.

She’d laughed at that. Sombra had somehow left his post and travelled more than a hundred miles to be with her, and she was supposed to carefully and demurely trot over to him?  She couldn’t fly into his embrace fast enough!

And then, there he was. He still had that haunted look that never quite left his eyes, but he’d been dashing in his uniform, even covered in dust from his travels. She’d run to him, and they held each other, coming together to form the whole that each had been aching for.

From that point on, it had been a confusing whirlwind. Sombra started yelling something about a key and the old legend of the central spire. Chrystal hadn’t been able to tell if it was some plot he’d schemed up to return to the castle, but she played along as best she could.

The key! she thought, grinning despite the throne room’s gloomy atmosphere. He’d found it! He really—

The queen jumped as the heavy, wrought iron doors banged open. Followed by two flustered guards, a very dirty and very tired-looking soldier stumbled in, breathing heavily. All around, the courtiers erupted into shocked shouts of protest at the lack of decorum.

“Your… Majesties,” the pony panted. He tried to trot to the dais, but his legs were shaking badly. It was all he could do stay upright. “News from the front! We’ve been defeated! All is lost!”

“Guards,” Queen Chrystal said, rising from her throne with concern. “Fetch this soldier some food and water. He’s raving.”

“There’s… no time!” the pony gasped between huge lungfuls of air. “The army… been destroyed. No more… left!”

“WHAT?!” Chrystal cried, aghast. “The whole army?! That’s impossible!" Around her, the other ponies in the room began to panic, yelling amongst themselves.

“I saw it!” the soldier said, quaking. “I saw the… thing! It destroyed our base… like it was nothing. Lifted tons of rocks just by waving its hands!" The soldier took a step toward her, his eyes bulging. “It said to tell the king that it’s coming! It’s on its way!”

“Sombra, we have to—" Chrystal stopped abruptly, her eyebrows slamming together as she pursed her lips. He’s still not paying attention! Chrystal leaned over to her husband and smacked him in the shoulder with the back of her hoof, irritated at the way he jumped in his seat. “What is with you?!” she hissed, her patience exhausted. He clearly hadn’t heard a word of what had transpired. “What are we going to do?” she asked, pointing to the soldier at the foot of the dais. “He says the our forces have been wiped out and the monster is advancing on the city! We’re defenseless!”

We only have one hope left, and he must take it this time! Chrystal thought, rising to stand before him. As the audience members in the throne room gasped, she knelt in front of her husband, her hooves pressed together beseechingly. “Please!” she said, her voice trembling violently. “Please! I know you don’t want to, but please! We have to!”

Finally, he listened.