The Peculiar Research Journal Of King Sombra
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My greatest fear is that nopony shall remember my name.
Perhaps that is not quite true. I also fear a great number of things, all of which are far more pressing than my petty anxiety that I will not be remembered for generations. I am a king, of course I shall be remembered. Besides, it is best that I should devote my time to my ailing wife rather than sulking on an irrelevant future.
I know not what afflicts my beloved, but she has grown more restless of late. I fear that it may be the same disease that affected my poor mother and father; even more troublesome, I am afraid that it may deprive me of my daughters before any may discern a cure. No father should ever have to bury their children.
And yet, Celestia seems to have developed a similar affliction as her mother, but only in symptom. She speaks to herself on occasion, dark looks in her eyes. Thankfully, the dear seems to be free from the illness that pains her bedridden mother, but the symptoms remain. Only Luna and myself appear to be free from the wretched disease, and no soothsayer nor wisemare nor alchemist may ease my mind and heart as to the issues at hoof.
Several of them even dared to offer antidotes and potions, vowing that it would heal them within a matter of days for but a trifling cost of a fraction of my bits. Snake oil in exchange for the royal treasury. I believe that they expected me to be quite the fool, for absolutely none of their ‘antidotes’ offered anything more than rosewater and foul scents. Were I a stallion of a temper akin to my father, I might be so callous as to have the rapscallions exiled for a decade or two to teach them a lesson.
The hour grows late, and my betrothed calls my name.
Her voice has grown weaker these past few weeks. I worry for her so much.
I no longer think that my greatest fear is to be forgotten; rather, that I shall remain powerless before death as I lose everything dear to me.
But such are the burdens of a king.
I am greatly pleased that Celestia shows signs of recovery. I had merely to speak to her privately, expressing my concerns. Although it seemed that she, too, had been deprived of sleep as her mother, it were for completely different reasons. Although a bit foul tempered, I might add. I can attribute this to the noise the excavation teams were making below during the night to further my search into the mysterious crystal chambers below the palace. I should inform them to send off the night team for rest. Rather wouldst I compensate the workers rather than disrupt those sleeping. I wonder why Luna did not tell me of such things, though, were such the case. Perhaps she simply did not want to upset me further.
The poor dear, she truly is thoughtful.
Or perhaps Celestia has been going out on her ‘midnight romps’ again. I swear to the Titans, that mare takes so much after her mother that it frightens me. Quick witted and a sharper tongue than a bag of tacks. It is quite clear that Luna shall succeed the throne long before she does, being the well behaved and insightful of the two.
My beloved, however…
Even when I sleep with her, I am nearly as restless as she. Long are the hours in which she weeps, besieged by nightmares of the most horrendous sort. I do not know from whence they come, and not even Luna can assist her, despite her most recent magical excursions into the realm of dreams. I have sent for yet more ‘healers’ from the Crystal Empire in the north at the behest of my Draconequui servants, for they seem to hold her in high regards.
But my faith wanes in those that claim to bring health, and supply only false hope and broken hearts. My poor, poor wife. All I can do is hold her in her hours of suffering, praying endlessly that her weeping will end.
It never does.
I fear that it never shall until it is far too late.
My betrothed, the eternally strong mare that she is, asks more frequently that I leave her alone. At first, I declined quite fervently; I would rather toss my father’s crown out the window than leave her side. She was more adamant than I, I admit. She has a way with words that astounds me.
Or perhaps I simply cannot decline the pleas of a mare that may be on her deathbed.
In order to strike such thoughts from my mind, I have taken to assisting in the excavation of the little gem nodes that were discovered beneath the palace. In the beginning, I thought that such rare findings would bring a smile to my wife’s face were I to craft her something lovely with my findings. The diggers seemed rather surprised by my insistence upon overseeing the little project. I am quite glad I did so, as there was a breakthrough today.
Much to my surprise, said little node was no tiny node at all; but rather, an entire cavern of precious jewels! Glistering, massive crystals taller than a tower and twice as thick, entire networks of caverns! I was quite amazed at such a sight, for never had I known that such things lay right beneath our very noses.
Many of the workers were as overjoyed as I at our discovery, tossing crystals betwixt each other and laughing amongst themselves. I could hardly wait to grant them each a share for their hard labor, for surely their families had missed them during their long working hours. However, no sooner had we set hoof in the shockingly deep caverns that the lot of them mysteriously shook and took fright and fled.
I… do not remember much afterwards.
It were as some strange dream that fell upon me then, drawing me deep within the caverns that hour. Strange whispers that I cannot remember, magic dancing o’er my eyes that gave me sight of splendorous things lying just for myself at the center. Surely the Titans themselves had blessed this place, for the deeper I ventured, I remember as much, the stronger I seemed to grow.
Always had my magic been weak, since birth. Fortunately, I seem to have been created with a counterbalancing powerful mind, clear as the crystals I saw then.
Such wondrous feelings soaring in my veins, blessing me with an inner might when I looked upon them. I swear to you, such power and strength I have never known since that fleeting moment of astounding magic. I could still hear it long afterwards, expounding itself as old magic that bolstered my very soul.
I know not when I at last stumbled from the dark caverns into the light of day, though I swear when I looked back the crystals glowed as if the sun itself sat within them.
My daughters led the servants down in search of me, it would seem. Although I claimed to have only been gone a short while, the shocked looks of them all in addition to my surprisingly emaciated frame wouldst defy that notion. I could tell then that they were hiding something from me, and a great anger grew. May haps my father’s impatient spirit spoke to me, for I had not known such feeling for my entire life.
They had been denying me truth, of course. Even my dear daughters.
My beloved had passed.
It… it broke me.
I wept for her for long, screaming with such rage that I fear I harmed several servants in the process. Wrath took hold of me in place of my sorrow, and none dared to stand before the magical onslaught I brought for days on end.
I could not even bring myself to bury her. Perhaps it was the fever of failing to eat for so long, maybe the first inklings of madness crawled into my ears like serpents and whispered sweet untruths to me, but I lay with her again just as if she were as warm as our first night together again.
A sickness held to me when they took her away from me. I did not want them to, but I believe that a piece of myself that still saw the shining light of reason agreed with them. Not a sickness of the body as my poor wife had suffered for so long, but of the mind.
This, too, I feared. For a while.
I know not just how long I lay in my chambers, mindlessly losing myself in my thoughts. Celestia visited me often then, but I grew fearful of her. She wished to usurp me when I was weak, so certain of such was I that I insisted upon my only trustworthy daughter Luna to watch her night and day.
I had utterly forgotten by the time the ‘healer’ from the north finally arrived.
Angry was I – even more so than when my beloved was stolen away from me as a thief in the night would steal into the sleeping’s home. After all, what good would a healer do to the dead?
It was then that I finally seemed to clear my mind.
Or perhaps it was that I truly lost it, and sank into the maw of madness.
I wonder if I no longer know the difference.
The draconequus seemed to show pity toward his brethren that worked as servants here, though I know not why. All are quite well paid, but she claims that nobler creatures such as they once sang in mighty cities even further north than even the bravest stallions treaded. All draconequui seem to have a similar story, I have overheard quite a few. None of them are the same, obviously. Such myths never are.
The healer in question soothed my anger, though not in deliberation. She spoke of cures for the illness that had already taken my beloved, and hiding in such an ironic place.
The crystals.
A hint of crushed crystals would surely have killed her, but the healer claimed that the ones I showed her were of sister kind to those in the north – even comparable to the city of crystal itself, that odd empire. These, she said, held a similar magic to them – and though I dismissed her as a liar and a charlatan, she proved to be truthful.
Draconequus magic could interact with the crystals in a way that no unicorn could.
I could not tell you how filled with joy I was at the discovery, nor my growing anger at how useless I found them all.
I… regret my hate that stewed inside me. How I loathe the anger that boiled within, the bile in my throat when I killed her with the very crystal that could have, should have saved my wife.
I had to kill her.
Just as I had to silence the entire excavation team that watched as I butchered her. It had to be done, the crystals told me so.
Even I was surprised by the strength that had grown of late. It must have been the crystals guiding my magic, the hooves of titans empowering my own that allowed me so easily to crush their bones and grind them beneath me.
I hated it.
I loved it.
The power I had been denied at birth was rightfully mine at last, with more promised me by the ancient stones that lurked inside those dreaded caverns.
Horn rot of the most mysterious kind wore at me on that night, but I no longer cared, nor do I now. My daughters look at me in veiled repulsion, I see it, especially that brat Celestia. I can trust no word that the little harlot spouts, but she seems to be rather distracted by a slew of consorts. Let them bed her, it keeps her out of my way. A worthless bitch if I have ever known one, she dares to smile at me as if I did not know of her thoughts. I can see them, the crystals show me. She wishes to cast me out, but is far too weak to do so. She is of no concern. The crystals are all that matter now, that I may use the sleeping magic within them as a fire eats at logs for fuel. It feeds me, nourishes me in such a wonderful, soothing way.
I need more crystals.
My studies into the hearts of these crystals has granted me such strength that I know even the Titans would fear me now. I do not know how many draconequui have fallen in my service, for they are all far too weak. Despicably so, and it infuriates me that I can only purge the crystals further of their magic with the talons of a draconequus. Perhaps I should not have killed off living ones in attempt to use their very body parts to pry out the magic.
Their numbers are dwindling, but I can find more.
I know now that with my growing strength, I shall never fear again.
Not of my own daughter. Not of illness. Not even death.
Silus Sombra shall be the only known fear, as the light fears the shadows.
They keep dying!
Stupid, wretched mongrels, every one of them! Draconequui are a useless lot, and pathetic to boot! I’ve tired so of their simpering, how much they suffer in their service. It is much simpler to simply strike the minds from them, though mindless it may leave them. Servants should know their place, and I like them much better now. Their lives, their very souls are mine to command. I even made three of them disembowel themselves before their comrades for my own amusement.
They do not question. They do not ask, they do not think.
They fear nothing.
Perhaps I should bring this magic to more of my servants, as at least I do not have to listen to their agitating whines and pleas for either mercy or death. It drains me, however… it makes me feel weak to exert such strength over them, and I search even more desperately for a way to incubate and drain the crystals of their power that I may consume it. The crystals devour my every thought, drawing me to them like moth to flame. I need them, I must have more for my research. What point is power, after all, if death may take me and dethrone me at a moment’s notice?
I am a king.
I am the king, and I will not bow for death. Death shall bow before me, I will ensure it!
My slaves have been sent out to find more fodder for the crystals.
I shiver with anticipation of the power I will soon control, for surely it is close at hoof. So many lives have been claimed by my research that I began to wonder if I would be forced to sacrifice the entire nation only to feed my lust for power. If only I had known such vigor long ago, if only I had known such things before. I have heard tale of a scholar that sent back messages through time itself, though it is doubtlessly just as idle a fairy tale as of floating draconequui cities. Perhaps after I have devoured the latent power of these crystals I shall attempt such a feat.
Doubtless I would be powerful enough to do so, then.
At times, and very few, I almost see her again.
I… I cannot for the life of me remember her name. Long have I searched, and every instance of her name seems to have been stricken from every record. Her name escapes me, and it tears at my heart when I ponder it. At these times, I can nearly hear her sweet, angelic voice, touch her and hold her as if she were before me again.
I wonder if I miss her.
The crystals consume much of my thoughts, but the loneliness remains that cannot be filled. The void of my beloved, I – why does such anger besiege me, why can’t I remember her name?
It doesn’t matter.
She, like so many servants, has fulfilled her purpose. I can always replace her.
So very few could match her beauty, her sheer luster. I have taken to sending for Crystalline mares, ones such as bright as my beloved. None match her beauty, not in my mind’s eye. And the ones that might be considered gorgeous amongst the common rabble are all filthy beasts, hardly fit to lick the filth from the bottom of my hooves. Harlots and disgusting smut, not nearly as immoral or perfect as she was.
I disfigured many, both with my own hooves and my own impressive magic. Things that are not even mares anymore.
They, too, beg for death.
It will not come. Not for them.
Never.
Such imperfect immortality, such undeath. This desperation gnaws at me to escape the mortal coil, to defeat death so that I have even thought of surrendering myself to that same method, but I shall not. No, my immortality lies with the crystal. They tell me so.
I have tired of sultry mares that dare to stand up to my glorious wife’s past shimmering wonder and beauty. There is simply no longer any such mare that ever could be like her, I see this now.
I have taken to sending for fillies instead.
They are so young, so innocent and pure that perhaps a few here and there could claim to be similar to her, in some aspects. Those that are up to my already lowered standards disgust me enough in their attempts to be more like her, the perfect image of mare who’s name escapes me.
Few that I lay with survive. I wonder why.
Perhaps it is because of my immense strength, which would explain much. If so, then it is their own faults. Their own fault for looking like she did, for bowing and cowing for my might so that I do not shatter their minds, even though I always do. Their despicable weeping and sobbing does not touch my heart. I have already magically replaced it with crystal, that I might hear them more clearly. It is no fault of my own if they break beneath me.
The weak were meant to be broken by the strong, and I am stronger than any that has ever lived.
There is not a chance that those growing armies of East can stand before me, for none of them know my full strength. I will shatter them all under me when the power of immortality is mine. And when I have depleted my stores of crystals here, I shall traverse to the north and devour the entire Crystal Empire. That doddering jaded fool Crescendo mi Amore will never see me coming, like a thief in the night.
I wonder why those words claw at me so.
It is no matter. I shall live until the end of time, with the power I command; I will strike down the Titans, and take their thrones for my own!
Nevermore shall Silus Sombra fall prey to the qualms of fear, I shall not bow for death – I shall become it!
Yes.
I will become as death itself.
And then there will be none at all who do not remember my name.
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