In Memoriam

There was music playing when Sombra opened his eyes again. He recognized the tune, though he could not remember the title. It was a smooth, legato sound that drifted into his ears like a river, its steady rhythm stirring his hooves to movement.

He realized that his hooves had already been in motion. There was a weight against his chest, and when he looked down he recognized the bright, cherry pink of Crystal Heart’s mane. Her coat smelled sweet, like lavender, and the feel of her fur against his chest tickled and stirred him in ways that he could not possibly say.

“My love,” Crystal Heart murmured. “You’ll have to tell me one day how you acquired your skill with dancing.”

“My Queen,” he murmured in reply. “Only when you tell me the source of your stunning beauty.” She laughed at that, a crystal-clear sound that warmed his heart and raised his spirits.

“I don’t imagine that the mages of Equestria teach their students in a ballroom,” she said. He smiled mysteriously.

“They teach in many places, my sweet,” he said. “There is more to me than you’ll ever know.”

“So you say,” she said. “Yet I see your mysteries as a challenge, not a dissuasion.”

“Then you accept my quest.”

She laid a hoof on his chest and smiled up at him. “Only if it leads me to your heart.”

“You already own that, your majesty.”

“Then it appears I’ve won our little game,” she said, her smile growing wider. For a moment, Sombra was tempted to sweep down, to steal a kiss from her scented lips, to press his mouth against hers and leave the ballroom behind.

Yet for some reason, he did not. Instead, he looked away, pursing his lips. Crystal Heart must have noticed, for she leaned her head against his chest and nuzzled the space below his neck as they swayed.

The rest of the ballroom was a grand piece of architecture, nearly as beautiful as the throne room itself. Great windows of stained glass and clear crystal towered from the floor to the ceiling, far, far, above their heads. Beyond the glass, the purples and crimsons of the setting sun were visible, the last glimmers of sunlight vanishing beyond a perfect, white snow. At the other end of the ballroom, the thin crescent of the nearly-new moon was barely visible, the stars twinkling around it as it rose above the mountains to the east.

The floor, fashioned of a crystal so milky and opaque as to appear as marble, was warm, not cold, beneath their hooves. Chandeliers dotted the ceiling above their heads like so many oversized fireflies, their candles flickering and wisping like the stars outside.

The music was like the heartbeat of the floor, ponies all around them swirling and swaying to the rhythm. It took Sombra but a fraction of a second to locate the chamber orchestra playing at the center of the hall: violins, cellos, a dainty harp. Even a flugelhorn offered its sharp, clear voice as the conductor, a lanky crystal stallion with a combed-over mane, guided it in solo.

There were ponies all around them, their dresses and suits as extravagant as anything Sombra had ever seen. Not a one compared to the dazzling beauty of Crystal Heart’s own dress, yet there was a prettiness to them all the same. Dresses flared and coattails bobbed as the ponies wearing them danced the night away, each fold of fabric shimmering in the candlelight.

Off in the corner of the room, Sombra noticed two ponies - familiar ones, he remembered, after a moment of thought. The mare wore a simple tiara upon her head, her dress a simple, silken piece of fabric that clung to her every muscle. There were some wrinkles above her eyes, but he was able to see that she was still beautiful. There was a regality to her step, a sense of all-empowering dignity that never once left her form.

Beside her danced a taller, thicker crystal stallion. His mane was cut short, the hair already beginning to grey. He too wore a simple outfit, a red coat decorated in gold trim. A single medallion twinkled from his breast. From here, the image upon its surface was too small to see, but Sombra knew it well. It was a single rose, its stem crossed with the blade of a sword - the mark of the Prince-Consort of the Crystal Empire.

The former Queen and her husband danced with the music, but it was a mechanical motion, with neither pony losing themselves to the festivities like the others around them. Both carrie themselves stiffly, and appeared to be dancing past one another, rather than with each other. Once in a while, one’s eyes would sweep over Sombra and his dancing partner, their gaze cold and without feeling.

“Your parents are watching,” Sombra murmured, Crystal Heart nuzzling against his chest.

She snorted. “Let them.”

“They do not approve.”

“A Queen makes her own choices.”

“A Queen does her duty,” he said softly. She shook her head.

“My duty is what I choose it to be,” Crystal Heart said. “And I choose it to be you.”

“But - “

“Please,” she said. “No.”

Sombra fell silent.

“Always,” she said. “Always, you turn me away. Always you refuse me. But tonight, I will not allow you to send me away like a foal.”

“I want only what is best for you.”

“You love me,” she said. Somehow, she managed to make the words feel like a slap against his face. “And nothing my parents or advisors say can ever change that.”

He bowed his head.

“Say it,” she said. A Queen never begged, she’d once told him...but now, there was an unmistakable edge to her voice. A desperation he hadn’t noticed before. “For the love you bear me, tell me now. Let me know that my love is not in vain.”

There was no need to guess what she meant. Sombra opened his mouth, but the words caught themselves on the edge of his tongue.

Three words. Three tiny, little words. Why couldn’t he say them?

It wasn’t right, he wanted to say. This wasn’t where he was meant to be.

But here was Crystal Heart, holding herself against his chest. Here was the mare of his dreams, offering herself to him in the most earnest of ways. And all he had to do was say three words.

Why couldn’t he say them?

Sombra. I am Sombra. I love Crystal Heart. Sombra. I am Sombra. I love Crystal Heart. I am -

Weeping silently, Crystal Heart brought his head down to her own and placed a gentle kiss on his lips. Sombra closed his eyes.

Another stallion opened them.

“This isn’t right,” he said quietly. “This isn’t right.”

“My love,” Crystal Heart said, “please, if I have done wrong - “

“This isn’t real,” the stallion said, his voice growing louder. He looked up, catching the glimmer of the dresses, of the floor, of the starlight upon the snow. The floor felt real beneath his hooves. The music sounded real to his ears. But it wasn’t. It couldn’t be. “None of this is actually happening.”

“My love, please - “

“I’m not Sombra,” he said. “This isn’t my place. This isn’t my time.” He glanced down at his hooves - they were white now, then black, flickering between the two like a candle about to be blown out.

“Please, stop,” Crystal Heart begged him. “Sombra, my love. Ponies are starting to look.”

He was almost shouting now, he realized. He glanced into her eyes, and for an instant, he was tempted to listen to her, to stop, to go on as it had been before. But that wasn’t possible.

“I don’t know what my name is,” he said, “but it isn’t Sombra.”

“No - “

“This isn’t my time,” he said quietly, looking into her eyes. “I’m not who you think I am.”

“Yes, you are,” she insisted. Her hoof caught on his sleeve. “Please, Sombra. I don’t know what cruel joke this is, but you must stop. Please. “

More and more ponies were starting to stare. The former Prince and Queen had ceased their mockery of a dance and had begun to step toward them, the crowd parting to let them through. The orchestra had stopped, the last pluck of the harp ringing throughout the ballroom.

“It’s no joke,” the stallion said, louder. “And you are not, and never will be, my Queen.”

Crystal Heart’s touch on his shoulder felt cold as ice. When the stallion looked again, he saw that the purple shine of her eyes had gone out. In its place was left a glassy stare of icy silver, a gaze that pierced through his skin and past his heart.

“I am your Queen,” Queen Crystal Heart whispered. “And you will be my Prince.”

There came an icy pinch on his neck, and then the stallion knew no more.

Before Cadance knew it, she had him in her hooves, muzzle against his chest. It was a moment before she realized that the yelp of pure joy that still echoed in the air had been hers. His coat was warm to the touch, and she held him close.

“You’re okay,” she said, nuzzling his shoulder. He chuckled.

“Now that you’re here, I am,” he said. “Lieutenant Quill. Looks like you did a great job in getting Cadance down here.”

‘It wasn’t just me, sir.” Cadance turned to see Quill bowing and gesturing to the side. “Your wife did a lot of the work. This mage here was a real help, too.”

Cadance raised an eyebrow as a smile flickered across Zirconic’s face. It was good that they’d made up, she supposed. There didn’t seem to be a hint of sarcasm in Quill’s voice. For that matter, the rest of the guards were nodding along with him, more than one shooting a hoofs-up in Zirconic’s direction.

“So what was it that took you?” Cadance asked, as a pair of guards moved to support him at either side. He might have been alive and well, but there were deep circles under Shining’s eyes, and he looked fit to collapse at any moment.

“Sombra,” Shining said bitterly. “Some construct of his that he’d left in waiting beneath the castle.”

Cadance nodded to herself. She wouldn’t say “I told you so” to Quill - especially after what he’d just done for Zirconic - but she had told him so. “Did he hurt you at all?”

Shining gave a laugh. “He would’ve if he’d wanted to. Funnily enough, I think it only had enough juice to get me down here in the first place. Couldn’t see or hear a damn thing in that cell. I haven’t seen it since it locked me in there - must’ve fallen apart or something.”

“That might have been the miasma we’d seen earlier,” Cerulean said. “If only we’d thought of it earlier.”

Cadance bobbed her head, a soft smile on her face. “But now we know about it. It won’t trouble us again.”

“If that’s the last remnant of Sombra’s magic, Princess, then we should be fine,” Quill said, falling into step beside her. The group rounded the tower and approached the Door of Fear. Something seemed off about the Door, but for the life of her, Cadance couldn’t figure out what. She shrugged it off as a remnant of the dark magic she’d been channeling - with that stuff in her system, she was bound to feel a little odd afterward.

“So it looks like this little quest is over,” Quill noted from her side. “Time to get out of here and get life back to normal.”

“You’re sure that cell was all that was down there?” Zirconic was asking Shining. “Nothing else of Sombra’s castle?”

“Nothing at all,” Shining said. “I went over every inch of that place - looked like a complete dead end to me.”

“A pity,” Zirconic said. “I would have liked to see what he’d stored away, if anything.”

“From what I’ve heard, you wouldn’t,” Cerulean said. Quill nodded, his hoof going reflexively to the sword at his side.

“I’m sorry that you all had to go through all of this on my behalf,” Shining said. “I can’t say that it’s fun being the damsel in distress.”

“Well,” Cadance teased, “I certainly enjoyed being your knight in shining armor.” Shining snorted, but shot her a good-natured smile all the same.

“Well, let’s hope that neither of us ends up in a mess like this again,” he said. “The adventure’s over, so now’s the time to live out that happily ever after.”

Cadance started nodding along, but caught herself. Wait. Something wasn’t right. There was a detail they’d missed.

Then it hit her. “What about the Crystal Heart?”

Their group stopped. “What about it?” Quill called back from his place near the front. They were almost at the top of the staircase by now, nearly back at the throne room.

“It’s still burned out,” Cadance said. There was a lump in her throat. “We saved Shining, but we never found out what happened to the Heart.”

“But the barrier’s still holding,” Quill said. “And for all we know, that spirit of Sombra’s was the only thing keeping it dark. It’s probably as bright as a Hearth’s Warming tree by now.”

Cadance felt a weight on her shoulder. “Don’t worry about it,” Shining murmured into her ear. “It’s probably nothing. You worry too much.” His lips brushed against her ear, his breath warm and comforting on her coat.

Cadance’s skin went icy cold.

Lieutenant Quill would never dismiss her fears about the Crystal Heart. The Heart was his people’s prized treasure, the one thing that the Imperial Army had been able to take pride in protecting since their Empire’s return. He - and Zirconic, too, whose Order held the Heart up as their most valuable piece of study - would never have consented to leaving without ensuring that they’d done everything that they could that would restore the Heart to power.

And Hearth’s Warming Eve wasn’t even celebrated in the Crystal Empire - why would he have used that comparison?

It’s probably nothing, a voice told her. Don’t worry about it.

You worry too much, Shining’s voice told her. Relax. Don’t think.

Why would Quill and Zirconic suddenly be the best of friends? They may not be bickering, but it made no sense for them to be chatting amiably at the front of the party, as a glance up and to the side confirmed. And was Quill listening - with obvious interest! - as Zirconic lectured him about one of his many enchanted gemstones? What was going on here?

It was too easy. She’d wanted the culprit to be Sombra, and it turned out that she’d been right. But the spirit - shade, golem, whatever - had disappeared the instant it’d sealed Shining away. Wasn’t that convenient? And Shining himself had suffered no mistreatment save for a few hours’ isolation and lost sleep. How could Sombra, who had suffered a final, humiliating defeat at their hooves, allow that?

Shining had asked her for a happily-ever-after. That wasn’t the first time they’d discussed that old and tired trope, but they’d never discussed it anything but jest before. To Shining, growing old and fat was the most disgusting idea he could think of. He wanted to be in the field, supporting his troops, protecting his people from danger. Protecting her.

And now he didn’t.

“You’re not Shining,” she whispered.

Nopony else stopped. Cadance grunted as a guard bumped up against her flank and immediately apologized. “You’re not real,” she said, louder.

Shining stopped and turned back. He raised an eyebrow, smirking in that boyish way only he could. “What’re you talking about? Of course I’m real.”

“You’re not,” she said, and realized what had been wrong about the Door of Fear when they’d passed through it the second time. The gem above the frame hadn’t been blue-grey, like it usually was. Instead, it’d been a faded, rusty red…

...like the gem that had sat above Shining’s cell.

“Come on,” Shining said, chuckling. By now, Quill and the rest had stopped their ascent and were staring at them oddly. “I’m as real as anypony. Come on. Doesn’t this feel real?” He leaned in closer, his muzzle almost touching hers.

She pushed him away. That was his smile, his eyes, his snout - but it wasn’t him. She could see it now: the iciness of his grin, the emptiness behind his eyes. This Shining was a fake.

“I’m still back there,” she whispered, “aren’t I? Still staring at that door, just like Twilight was.”

“Cadance, I - “

“Stay back,” she said, loudly. “I don’t know what you are, but you aren’t my Shining Armor. And I’m going to get out of here.”

“Princess - “

“Quiet.”

She closed her eyes. She drew up her magic, felt it swirling and singing in her veins..but it felt odd. Sluggish. Like there was something in the way.

She’d heard about potential ways to end illusions before, to stop magical trances. She’d just never had the opportunity to try one before. Summoning up her will, she took a firm grasp on the flow from her magical font, identified the problem area, and cut off the flow of magic. For an instant, her heart stopped.

Then she released her hold, exhaling deeply when she felt her heartbeat pick up again. Slowly, she opened her eyes.

She was sitting before what had been the door to Shining’s cell, a bright light shining from beyond its doorframe. At the top, the rusty-red gem now glowed a brilliant scarlet, a blood-red flame dancing in its depths.

“Princess!” It was Cerulean’s voice, and a moment later, Cadance felt the mare’s hooves on her shoulders, holding her tight and shaking her. “You need to - “

“I’m awake,” Cadance said - or rasped. She took a moment to recollect her thoughts, making sure to moisten her lips, and turned back to face Cerulean. Quill and a few guards were going around the group, poking and prodding at a few ponies who were still staring vacantly at the Door, their jaws ajar and their eyes dazed. “How long was I out?”

“At least half an hour, give or take,” Quill replied. “According to Cerulean here, anyway. I just woke up ten minutes ago. We’re still working to wake the rest of my boys up.”

Cadance looked around. About five or six crystal ponies seemed to still be captives to the Door’s magic, whatever it was. Zirconic, the one pony she hadn’t noticed yet, was huddled up on his own toward the edge of the group, his cloak held tight around him and his head pointed at the ground.

“I’m guessing closing the Door didn’t work?” Cadance asked quietly. Cerulean shook her head.

“We tried. Zirconic’s current hypothesis is that the Door can only be closed when all of the ponies under its spell have been freed.”

“Or otherwise removed from its sphere of influence,” Zirconic mumbled. Cadance’s ears perked up at the sound of his voice.

“So it may be a proximity spell?” she said.

Zirconic paused, then nodded. “I’m almost certain. It looks to be channeled through the gem, and all gemspells - “

“ - have limited radii.”

“Exactly,” he said.

Cadance thought for a moment. “And they won’t wake at all?”

“Waking you took a very long time, Princess,” Cerulean said. “There’s no telling how long they might take.”

Cadance turned to the side, but Quill was already at work. “You, you, and you,” he said, directing several of the guards that were already awake. “Take these five and take them back to the throne room.”

“Will that be enough?” Cadance asked.

“Should be,” Zirconic said.

“And if it doesn’t work?”

Zirconic shrugged. “Drop a bucket of cold water on their heads. That’s not our problem.” Quill scowled in his direction, but said nothing.

Five minutes later, the guards had re-entered the main stairway carrying their hypnotized comrades back toward the throne room. Cadance surveyed the area; of the sixteen ponies that had descended the stairs, only four were left: herself, Zirconic, Cerulean, and Quill.

Another three minutes later, the gemstone dimmed, the door slamming shut below it. Cadance sighed and swept the door with her magic, checking for any remaining signs of magic. Nothing. She suspected it’d activate again if she tried to open the door the same way, though,

So what to do?

On a whim, she decided to reach out and touch the door. As expected, the door sped to the side - but in that brief flash of moment, she saw the color of the gemstone flicker, going from a dull red to a bright, glimmering white.

She knew that color. That was the same kind of stone as those in the throne room - the ones that had opened the way to Sombra’s castle. A fraction of a second later, the color had flickered back to red, but that was fine. Cadance had her answer.

“Princess, I - “ Quill swallowed his words as he saw a spark of dark energy spring up around Cadance’s horn. Evidently, whatever he’d had to ask had been answered by her decision, or perhaps he’d just forgotten it.

Cadance grit her teeth, summoning up Sombra’s power once more. The dark magic oozed through her system, her legs and chest feeling like they’d been coated with a thick, greasy oil. The sparks around her horn increased in intensity until a black blaze had sprung up on her forehead, sucking in all of the light around it. Then, just as she had before, straining to keep the corruption from touching her own magic font, she let the power go. A bolt of black energy leapt from her forehead and onto the gem.

Just like before, a deep, black corruption spread across its surface. Cadance let out a breath as she saw the doorway flicker and then disappear, revealing a set of onyx-black stairs behind it. A pair of emerald-green torches flanked the entrance, though the steps themselves faded into an impenetrable darkness after a few yards.

Cadance raised a hoof to wipe the sweat off her forehead. She closed her eyes, taking a moment to try and purge her system of any traces of dark magic. Only then did she dare touch her font once more. She let out a sigh of relief as she felt the warm, clean touch of her own magic once more.

Lieutenant Quill was already inspecting the staircase, his sword at the ready. Zirconic stood beside him, his looking-glass gem all but glued to his eye as he surveyed the material at his hooves.

Cadance turned to her side. Cerulean was there, her eyebrows furrowed and her lips drawn tight. Cadance offered a smile, and Cerulean nodded in return, the tension in her face decreasing slightly. The meaning was clear. She didn’t like the use of dark magic any better than Cadance did.

“It’s safe,” Quill announced. He stood on the top stair, head facing back over his shoulder. “No traps or beasties that I can see.”

“No lingering spells,” Zirconic said. “Though the miasma of dark magic is absolutely disgusting.”

“Either way,” Cadance said, “we don’t have to go in alone. Quill, how much longer do you think your ponies will be?”

“Another ten minutes, maybe,” Quill said. “No more than that. Maybe a little less.”

“Then we don’t have long to wait,” Cadance said.

Another two minutes passed. Three. Cadance fidgeted with her mane, her other hoof tapping on the floor. The other three remained mostly silent. Quill threw wary looks down the staircase they’d opened at least once every few seconds, as if he expected Sombra himself to come roaring out of the doorway the second her turned away. Zirconic merely sat off by himself, cloak concealing most of his body as he mumbled into a well-polished emerald. Cerulean merely stood patiently, her face appearing patient, but her body betraying a poorly-hidden tension.

Cadance sighed and reached up to adjust her tiara. Her hoof doubled its pace. She didn’t like this. She didn’t want to stand here, waiting. Who knew what could have happened to Shining by now?

He isn’t in any immediate danger, her rational mind told her.

We don’t know that, she retorted, and told her rational mind to shove off. She didn’t like this. At least with Chrysalis she’d known what the danger was. Here, though, she felt blind. Lost. They didn’t even know they were going the right way; how could they be sure that -

Her tiara clattered to the ground. Cadance reached down to pick it up, aware of the looks that each of the others were giving her.

Odd. It shouldn’t have fallen off - she hadn’t been fidgeting with it too much. She touched the end with a hoof.

Wait. There. The two prongs that had extended into her mane to keep the tiara in place were missing. She almost felt up her mane to see if they’d broken off somewhere, but something about the tiara kept her gaze in place. Then she noticed what she was looking at, and a chill ran down her spine: A faint white glow had sprung up around the edges of the tiara, with what looked like a dusting of snow flittering away through the air at either end. With each passing second, however, the tiara grew a little shorter, the white sparks at the ends reaching up another millimeter and leaving only empty air behind.

“Zirconic,” she said, a lump in her throat. “Take a look at this.”

He looked up and turned around as she hovered the tiara over to him. His eyes widened perceptibly as he noticed the sparks around the edges.

“It’s the same field that was disintegrating the staircase,” he said. He swallowed. “It’s...unweaving.”

Quill gave Cadance an odd look. “I didn’t know your tiara was made out of cloth, Princess.”

“Not like a cloth,” Zirconic spat. “Idiot. Unweaving. Unbecoming. Ceasing to be.” Quill’s cheeks flushed at the insult, but his face quickly paled as Zirconic finished.

“How is that possible?” Quill asked. “We’ve been down here for a while. Why isn’t it affecting us?”

“Look at your sword,” Zirconic said. Quill reluctantly slid the blade out of its scabbard. They all gaped: The top three inches of the tip seemed to have been sliced off, the same glowing white field shimmering around the ends.

“Inanimate. Metal,” Zirconic said. “It’s soft material. Magicless. Whatever was affecting the stairs is affecting that, too. Such a field wouldn’t affect living material at first - we have too much magic for that - but given enough time, we’d have no way stop it. The only other material that would last as long would be - “

“ - gemstones,” Cerulean finished. Zirconic rolled his eyes, obviously annoyed at the constant interruptions.

“Yes. The magical stability of the gemstones means that they’ll be here long after our bodies have lost their integrity. But that does us no good.” Zirconic shook his head. “Whatever this dimension is that Sombra decided to use as a gateway, it’s evidently rejected his magic. It’s removing itself of all foreign materials - ourselves included.”

“Princess?” Quill asked, turning to Cadance. “What’s your call?”

Cadance bit her lip. They couldn’t turn back now - they had to rescue Shining. For all she knew, this was the only route that would lead them to him. If they turned back, they might lose that route forever. She had little faith that, once they’d left this place, they’d be able to easily return.

But Shining’s wasn’t the only life at stake here. Zirconic, Cerulean, and Quill were all stuck down here with her. Their lives were all at as much risk as hers - likely more, as her alicorn constitution and expanded stores of magic would likely give her greater survivability against such a threat. They’d followed her down here into probable danger, but this was different. This was a potentially certain death. And they didn’t even know what lay at the bottom of those stairs.

She looked at the other, and made her decision. “Quill,” she said. “Go open the first door. We’re leaving.”

Zirconic’s legs visibly sagged with relief. Quill only made a rapt salute and rounded back around the tower. Cadance turned to see what Cerulean’s response had been.

“Princess!” Quill called from the other side of the tower. “You might want to see this.”

The Door of Fear had vanished.

Well, not entirely - the outline of the door was still there. But more than half of it had been eaten away, a dim white glow buzzing around its edges. The doorknob had gone insubstantial, and when Cadance tried to lay a hoof on it, she went right through to touch the tower beyond.

“Looks like this place has made our decision for us,” Quill muttered.

“It seems so,” Cadance said. She felt a flash of resurgent joy - they were going to rescue Shining - followed by immediate guilt. Were these ponies’ lives really worth so little to her? Was she so desperate that she’d jump for joy even when they might have lost their only way out?

Well. Worrying over it would do her little good now. She took a breath, nodded, and stepped forward. “Looks like we’re going down.”

The stallion saw white.

He groaned, squirming as he felt the feeling rush back into his hooves and legs. He blinked a few times to see where he was - but no, only white remained.

White, and a glimmer of pink.

“You’re so cold,” Crystal Heart whispered, cupping his chin in her hoof. “And yet...so impossibly warm.” Her hoof brushed against his cheek, and she shuddered. Whether it was with pleasure, trepidation, or something else entirely, though, the stallion could not say.

The stallion grunted and made a half-hearted motion to push her hoof away. It made little difference; he was far too weak to do more than raise it a half a foot off the ground. A smile flitted across Crystal Heart’s face.

“Hush, my love,” she whispered. “Fear not.” The traces of ice were gone from her eyes, leaving only the familiar purple behind. But wait - what was that flash of cold in her gaze? The stallion wondered how he hadn’t noticed it before.

“Where...are we?” he managed to say. Speech came hard, and every word felt like it had to be forced out through a sieve.

“Exactly where we seem to be,” Crystal Heart said. “Can you not see?”

He squinted. “There’s...nothing. At all.”

“Are you so sure?” Crystal Heart asked. She leaned down and nuzzled his ear, her breath warm on his skin. “Look again.”

The stallion squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them again, the blank white void looked much the same - no; there was something in the distance. A shimmer; a faded outline. He blinked again, and the outline became that much stronger. A third time, and he could make out colors. Slowly, the space around him faded into view until the white void had disappeared completely.

It was a room. His room, he knew - but only until he shook it off. It wasn’t his room. He’d never seen it before.

And yet…

“Whose room is this?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

Crystal Heart raised an eyebrow. “Why, yours, of course. You are not well.”

“It’s not mine,” he bit out. The words were coming easier now.

“Your poor mind,” she said. This time, he had the strength to brush away the hoof she made to lay against his forehead. She pursed her lips. “My dear Prince, what have they done to you?”

They. Who could they be? The stallion racked his brains for an answer, but found nothing. He almost laughed - what use was his memory when he couldn’t remember his own name?

He could remember what it wasn’t. He could remember - somehow - who Crystal Heart was. And he could remember something else: a face, a glowing blue horn, a purple-gold mane -

He winced, a lance of pain lashing through his forehead. The image disappeared as quickly as it had come.

“Why am I here?” he managed to force out. “What do you want with me?” Crystal Heart smiled.

“You are here so that I can save you,” she said.

“From who?”

“Those who would do us harm.”

He squinted. “Your...parents?”

Crystal Heart laughed, but the beauty of it was gone. Instead, the sound of her mirth cut through the air like a jagged knife. “No. Not my useless parents. Their disapproval means nothing to me.”

Her laughter stopped, and she looked down at him with pursed lips. “There is a darkness stalking you, Sombra. Out there, you are not safe. See how it has touched your mind, turned you against me?”

“I haven’t - ” he began, but she hushed him with a wave of her hoof.

“You have forgotten who you are,” she said sadly. “But fear not. Here, I can protect you. Here, you are safe.”

In the blink of an eye, she was standing by the door, her form blurring without so much as single motion. In another blink, she was outside, the doorknob grasped tightly in her hoof.

The stallion got to his hooves, grunting. “No - wait. You don’t understand. I’m not - “

“And perhaps,” Crystal Heart said, “if I leave you here, you will remember who you are.” The door began to close.

“No!” the stallion shouted. He limped forward, each step like molasses. “Stop! Don’t leave me in here!”

The door slammed shut. By the time the stallion reached it, it was obvious what had happened. He tried the door anyway.

It was locked. He was stuck here.

Here. In Sombra’s room.

If I leave you...perhaps you will remember who you are.

The stallion shivered. Once more, he tried to remember his name, and once more, he failed. He tried the door again. Nothing. He hadn’t expected it to be unlocked, but it had been worth the try.

His head bowed, and a thick sheen of sweat covering his body, the stallion limped back toward the bed. He lifted himself up to the mattress with a grunt and curled up with his head beneath his hooves. He would wait.

And he would sleep.