Author's Note
Capitalized WARNING.
If you know my other stories, you know I can get pretty dark. This will be no different, I'd only consider it the darkest thus far.
Approach with caution. And with healthy appetites, too.
Chapter 1: Appetizer
CHAPTER ONE:
APPETIZER
1
“I heard he makes them eat glass.”
“Why would he do that?”
“I don’t know. Because he can, I guess.”
“I… can’t see that happening.”
The pegasus that had been invited to dinner watched the steady shadows of two ponies splayed out along a wall through the open door. If they had thought they were out of earshot, they had been terribly mistaken.
Instead of trying to tune them out or go somewhere else, the pegasus only lowered his head to rest back on his hooves. It had been a position he’d been keeping since his name was read aloud in front of everyone.
That must have been less than twenty minutes ago, already. Which left him—
Less than an hour, he finished for himself.
They read your name and an hour later they come to collect you. Anymore time than that and ponies would be more willing to try something brash. Many still did. But escape from the Empire had always been a delusional pipedream and nothing more. Nothing of interest lay beyond those overbearing walls, the stallion knew. That’s what the King had told them on far more than a single occasion.
The pegasus readjusted his head and glared at the dozens of empty cots in the wide room he was occupying. On any moment on any other day, more than half of those beds would have been loaded with worn and tired ponies crashing for a spell before the next swifts in their regions. Those with enough energy would sometimes hold hushed conversations between bedmates. Only now was the stallion oddly alone in the room.
Not many wanted to see him that day. Not when there was a good chance they would never see him again.
2
It had all started several years ago. King Sombra had requested the attendance of six citizens of the Crystal Empire for a feast at his castle. Six white, hoofwritten letters with melted candle wax seal bearing the King’s likeness went out to the masses. Neither one of the six knew of the other; none was of much higher or lower social class than the other. Although no one in the Empire was truly above the King…
The invited six went with worry in their hearts but curiosity above all. Seldom few were ever allowed within the walls of the castle, instead being left to imagine what lay beyond those crystal peaks as their King would make his speeches high-up on his over-hanging ledge.
Six left for dinner and one returned. The one that came back never spoke a word of what had happened to the others, nor was he the same following that night.
And instantly an evening with the King took on a far more horrifying form.
On the last day of every month, six more letters were sent to the terrified populace.
Always random. Always without a single ounce of semblance were the subjects picked.
Only on a lone occasion did a whole family of six go before the King. The only one to return was the unicorn father with sudden red and swollen eyes, a mouth that hung limp and mumbled constantly. Less than a week later he walked off a tall scaffolding in the far reaches of the mine, perhaps in a bid to return to the rest of his family.
That had been the only trace of a pattern. Ever since it had been random selections once more.
When the letters were sent to individuals, most were destroyed or hidden away. When ponies tasked with bringing them to the castle came to collect, they were adamantly told they had the wrong building and the wrong name as well. Since such negligence would never sit well with the King, more than a few fights broke out and a bloodied and bruised ‘guest’ would be given over for dinner. On a few occasions (when the invited individual proved a tad bigger than the ponies tasked with delivering them), the drivers would then pick ponies at random from the streets, usually the ones too frail to put up much resistance.
“Violet Song!”
“Brass Steed!”
It only took a few months before the invitations were collected before going out. One hour before that evening’s dinner would commence, the six names would be read for the entire Empire to hear. When more than a few thought the ponies controlling the reading of the names might be placing other names into the mix, the announcer himself inadvertently uttered his own name before realizing what he had done.
He was never heard from again.
Six ponies went with the promise of a feast to remember forever. A single guest returned—forever changed, forever scarred.
But not a single one would say a word of what happened.
3
The pegasus sitting in wait on his thin bed shuttered when he heard the clop of hooves just outside his clouded window. One of the six simple brown chariots that came to scoop up each guest in tow had finally made its way to him.
Had it been an hour already? he thought bitterly.
From under his mattress he picked up the thin and jagged knife he’d stolen from the communal kitchen only minutes after his name had been announced. Along the blade he viewed his worn and sunken eyes as he held it aloft. He wondered if he’d be allowed close enough to him to be able to use such an instrument. He then wondered if he’d be searched before meeting him.
There was a lot left to chance. Yet perhaps there’d be another way.
Tossing the knife back to the bed for whoever wanted it after he was gone, the pegasus trotted out the door and to the entrance before the King’s staff bothered to knock. When he entered the hall outside his room more than a few quiet conversations came to a disparaging halt. He didn’t bother to stare at anyone or try to make them feel worse than they might—he had never honestly gotten to know a single one of them, so why should he thrash out at them just because the opportunity was available?
A few steps from the front door and suddenly he was wrapped in a set of legs. The owner was a mare much younger than him, a delicate shine in both big eyes.
“You might get lucky, you know?” she told him sincerely. “You might be the one that comes back. I’d really like it if you did.”
The pegasus had seen her around their cozy, cramped lodge more than a few times but couldn’t place her name. Instead of crushing what little spirit remained by saying, “I don’t think so,” he rather ruffled her mane while displaying a smile that felt as false as it must have looked. He couldn’t help but stop his jaw from quivering.
4
“I’m here to pick up—”
The pegasus held out a hoof for him to stop where he was. The unicorn with a small clipboard held in one hoof glanced at him briefly before averting his eyes. That would be the last time he’d look at him.
Without another word the pegasus climbed aboard the small carriage and shut the door behind him. Since the backseat had been designed to carry more than a single pony, he leaned back and sprawled out along the unyielding seat, just giving his head enough space to glimpse the fading sun in the sky. As much as he tried to block out the tall walls that threatened to nip at the sunset’s simple beauty, the pegasus just wasn’t up to the task. He was still in the King’s domain and he’d be reminded of it until the day he died. And there was a good chance that would be tonight.
Or perhaps something worse than death lay in store for him.
The gentle rocking of the carriage nearly sent him to sleep, but the trip was short enough that by the final stop he was up in an instant.
The unicorn that had trotted them there unhooked himself from the carriage and came around to open the door. It looked as though he wanted to say a few words—maybe a few to make the situation seem less bleak than it clearly was—but gave up before even beginning. As the pegasus climbed down the driver still averted his eyes.
The pegasus whistled. “Sure is tall.” He craned his neck to glimpse the mammoth tower of multi-colored crystal before him, ending with its many sparkling sharp peaks. He had seen it every day of his miserable life but this was the closest he’d ever been to it. And now he’d get to go inside its unknowing walls.
The pegasus turned to the unicorn standing idle by his ride.
“What’s gonna happen in there?” he asked him.
The unicorn rubbed a foreleg against the other. “I don’t know,” he said faintly.
“You lying or trying to save your own skin?”
“I really don’t know.” The unicorn’s voice somehow lowered even more. “But… just know… that—”
“That you’re sorry,” the pegasus cut in briskly. “That you feel terrible. Well save it. It’s easy for you to say such things now—you don’t have to be me. You don’t have to go eat with the King. But you know what? I’m pretty famished, if I do say so myself. I think I’ve felt that way for close to my entire life now. So maybe if Sombra’s willing to give me some good food before I go away forever, then maybe that’ll be just peachy. Maybe that’ll be quite the way to go. What do you make of that notion?”
The unicorn stopped rubbing his legs together and lowered his head. It would have to do for an answer.
“That’s fine,” the pegasus continued. “I’m probably late as it is.”
He trotted towards the open set of doors that fed into a richly decorated hallway. Once he’d crossed the threshold and entered the dimness of the hall and the small lamps that hung every few meters along the walls, two sentries from outside pushed the doors shut. The pegasus did not bother to view the outside world one final time. He had never liked it all that much anyways.
Only when he heard the clean snap of the doors connecting again did he fall to the floor and cry.
5
It had been a rising sensation edging its way throughout his body since the carriage had left his home and taken him there. In the overwhelming view of the public eye—and in the silent scrutiny of his unicorn driver—had he merely let those feelings take hold, all while he remained as visibly rigid as he could. But now that he was alone—now that he was here and there was no possible way of turning back—did he let himself become swallowed whole by those welling emotions.
No family was left to mourn for him; few friends would miss him when he was gone. He had a mission he had hastily placed upon himself so even if he was that lucky last surviving guest he was in no means going to leave this place tonight. He would finish his foolhardy mission because it could only benefit everyone in the Empire, and if he died doing so then he would perish a proud pony. He could speak all the tough words he could fathom to as many of Sombra’s drones as he could and yet never hold a single one of them responsible for what was about to unfold tonight—orders were just orders.
He could feel all these things and accept them as they were. But underneath it all he was scared. Underneath it all he was still just a normal pony with normal feelings… and suddenly he did not want to die that night. Or whatever it was that happened to a good majority of Sombra’s guests.
So while curled up in a ball on the red carpeted floors he bawled like a filly.
Until someone poked him in the ribs.
“Guest Number Five.”
The pegasus on the floor stopped shuddering and glared at the Earth pony that had just prodded him. (He didn’t bother to try and hide what he had obviously been doing moments ago.) Unlike the unicorn from before, this servant of the King bore no sympathetic expression to be found. This one only looked weary and almost bored. It was close to refreshing from the sea of sorrow that ran rampant in most streets of the Empire.
He must be used to the sight of tears, the pegasus thought. He must have seen it all, as ponies begged and screamed and tried for any means of escape. What a terrible job you must have—what a terrible boss you must work for.
“Guest Number Five,” he said again, not exactly a question or a statement.
The pegasus hastily wiped his moistened cheeks and got to his hooves. “What’s that now?”
“From here on in you will be Guest Number Five,” the Earth pony said monotone. “The King has never been the type to learn the names of others. Follow me, if you’d be so kind.”
Before he turned his back to him, the pegasus (or I guess ‘GUEST NUMBER FIVE’, he thought bluntly) glimpsed a small tag on the corner of the pony’s immaculate suit jacket. He thought it read “GREETER NO. FIVE” by couldn’t be certain.
With nothing left to interject with he followed him down the hall, both sets of hooves barely making a sound against the plush carpet. How many times had he even touched such material? How many carpeted areas even existed in the Empire? The pegasus had scarcely a clue.
Their trip was long and silent, as they carefully climbed a seemingly never-ending curve of red carpeted stairs, ascending and ascending until the very notion of just how high they must be felt completely lost on the pegasus. Eventually they came to another door, where his greeter halted by its side with a hoof gently resting on the knob. He didn’t make motion to enter; only held onto it delicately. With another leg he reached into a jacket pocket to retrieve a watch. For the rest of their time together he viewed its ticking face with increasing interest.
When the silence ran a little too long, the pegasus asked him, “Any tips?”
The Earth pony still studied his gold watch ardently. “Not really. You might have a tiny bit better chance with the set of wings and all, but then again I might be lying.”
Thirty more seconds carefully ticked by.
“Only fate, chance, and luck will see you through,” he continued indifferently. “That is, if you believe in such things. Otherwise I bid you goodbye.”
He pushed open the door as he shut his pocket watch with a snap. Instead of watch him enter, he redirected his interest to the narrow hall behind them. It was back to business as usual, it seemed.
“I’ll make sure to save you some dessert,” the pegasus snorted, before he entered the dinning room.
6
He hadn’t known what to expect, so the fact that it appeared like the dinning room of his dreams did little to sway the acidy bile steadily rising in his stomach.
The room was larger than most he’d ever been in—oval in shape, every inch of floor hidden beneath more red carpets and lavish large rugs. Eight tall, floor-to-ceiling windows circled the vast room. The sun had disappeared some time ago so each only gave way to darkened clouds and a brilliantly bright full moon. If the hundreds of stairs hadn’t given it away before, the view certainly did. They must have been near the very top of the Crystal Empire tower. Dozens of lit candles held on sconces sent out small rays of yellow curving light to different areas of the room. Still with that many light sources, black pockets of shadows remained close to everywhere. The pegasus honestly pondered if a certain King enjoyed it that way.
The long dinning table waited at the very center of the room, cut from some monstrous cherry-red tree and varnished and polished until it shinned. The seven chairs adorning it were made of the same material. In front of each chair was an identical set of silver plates with utensils, twinkling from the many flickering candles on the walls.
Three chairs sat on both sides of the rectangular table, a seventh chair—sat directly in front of a roaring fire pit—had been placed at its head. No plate or utensils of any kind were waiting to be used. While the other six chairs stood empty and waiting, the chair before the fire had already been filled.
King Sombra sat patiently while bits of wood crackled and splintered just behind him. Two dark hooves were held together on the table. Even from such a distance away, the pegasus could make out his trademark red cape and curved silver crown—as well as that monstrous blood-red horn. If it was real or just for show, he had always wondered. Maybe tonight he’d ask. If given the chance.
That was when another odd detail came to the pegasus. His King was without his great and shiny armor as well; only a tied length of red cloth hung around his neck. Sombra in casual wear? he reluctantly contemplated. Well, it’s just dinner, isn’t it?
As much as he wanted to joke his way to feeling a slight modicum better, the simple sight of the King only made him want to reconnect with the ground and form himself into the tightest of balls. Countless times he had glimpsed him while he made his longwinded speeches from up on high. But now he was near. So near. And now he was so much more real than ever before.
And maybe more vulnerable.
Sombra had his attention fixed on the opposite wall. Another stallion—clearly another guest by the way his eyes bulged out from their sockets—stood stock still in front of the shut door he had been led through. The pegasus watched as the guest spun around to try and head back the way he’d entered. Obviously the door had been locked.
Finally the pegasus noted the other five guests standing idle in front of their own sealed entrances. While most were still busy with the process of taking in the rest of the room—or Sombra himself—another was already trying his best to plow his shoulder to the door. The door in question didn’t waver an inch. In-between hammering thrusts, the pegasus noted his bruised lip and swollen eye. It must have been quite the fight that finally brought him here.
“Please, be seated.”
Sombra’s voice cut through the room like a rockslide in a mine. Those that hadn’t noticed him until then sucked in a good mouthful of air, while a unicorn mare by another door literally screamed out loud. It was likely she couldn’t help it.
It took close to two minutes before every guest carefully pealed themselves away from their doors. Any access they could provide outward had been removed the moment they shut. Now all that remained was dinner.
The pegasus slowly trotted toward the lavish table, a small part of him still intrigued by its simple elegance and beauty. Hundreds in the Empire starved each day or worked themselves close to death, all while their King sat in his tall tower to toy with his subjects. All while lush meals were served to him from the hooves of others.
The pegasus was happy to find a serrated knife along with their other utensils.
While he approached the table he glossed over the large numbers stamped at the top of each chair. One through six, in a rich silver color—crisscrossing from the open end of the table all the way to the seated Sombra. Spots one and two sat the furthest away from him, while five and six…
Oh no. I’m seated right next to him.
The pegasus’ breathing quickened.
Only a few feet from him. Barely a leg’s reach.
But hadn’t he come here with the sole intention of getting close to the King?
The first one to take their seat was the only other pegasus in the room. An older mare—Guest Number Three. With barely a glance at the King she scooted out her chair and sat down without hesitation. Her eyes looked worn and had a far away appearance, as though she were staring at something completely different than the rest of them.
She looks as though this were any other meal on any other night, the pegasus thought, pulling out his own chair to the right of her. She must have lost it completely—scared herself out of her mind. I should have thought about bashing my head in with a rock before coming here. Then I could at least smile and drool and perhaps feel a bit better as Sombra did whatever he planned on doing to us.
The mare pried her napkin from under her knife and fork and set in on her lap. It was such a simple move and yet in such a place it felt off. Guest Number Five instantly pitied her above the rest.
And already she had said something to him.
He turned to her. “Sorry. What was that?”
She smiled warmly. “I said you remind me of my son. He’s a pegasus too, about your age.”
While the stallion could think of no sensible rebuttal, he could hardly leave the older mare without acknowledgment. He nodded hurriedly. “That’s nice.” Straight away he thought of a do-over. “I hope you make it out of here, then,” he added awkwardly, instantly hating each word as it left his mouth.
Grim talk in a grim place, he thought coldly. You can’t escape it.
Since there was honestly no other place to go, each of the other four guests slowly found their seats. Guest Number One at the edge of the table was a male Earth pony, as were Guests Four and Six seated on the other side of the table. Guest Number Four was the bruised and bloodied bigger stallion with a definitive chip on his shoulder. Before finding his place he looked under both his chair and the table for possible traps, before bringing each piece of silverware close to his eye for inspection. He then sniffed each of them with his nose.
Although the pegasus didn’t believe it would be as simple as that.
The only other mare—Guest Number Two, seated at the outer edge—ended up also being the only unicorn in the group. Tightly bunched in her seat, she visibly trembled while she scarcely lifted her head away from her silver plate. Perhaps she thought if she concentrated hard enough, it would turn into a portal that she could jump through and away. Or perhaps not.
“Thank you all for joining me this evening,” a smooth, low voice told them all.
Having completely forgotten about the dark stallion with a crown atop his head seated only a legs reach from him, Guest Number Five shuttered from the sudden sound. Sombra’s low timbre cut through the deathly silent room with relative ease. But then again, he must have done this dozens of times by now.
“I hope you’ve all brought your appetites with you,” Sombra continued, the rest of his body completely motionless while his red and green eyes steadily surveyed each one of them in turn. Only did Guest Number Three—the older mare by his side—met his studious glare. The pegasus, along with the rest, shied away at the last possible moment. “I have personally brought in what might be some of your favorite delicacies for the occasion. I honestly can’t tell you how much I’ve been looking forward to tonight.”
CHAPTER THREE:
DESSERT
11
Guest Number Four glimpsed the other two for some modicum of pity. As far as the pegasus could tell he must not have found any, for he only lowered his head towards his untouched pastry without another word. In two large bites he finished it off, chewing without closing his mouth and, by the looks of it, not relishing a hint of its flavor. His mouth worked away on his main course while his eyes lost what little light they had held deep within. To an empty shell, Sombra had worn him down.
When nothing but crumbs was evident on his plate the pegasus felt that tightness in his chest again. More observant of the deathly scuffle across the table only minutes ago, he had almost forgotten the rules of the night. When every dish was cleaned and accounted for, a loser would be announced. If the overwrought death of Guest Number Two was of any indication, it would come hard and it would come loud.
A moment ticked by.
The fire pit roared on.
No one played their swan song.
“Just do it already…” the bruised stallion pleaded, tearstained eyes glaring at his empty plate. “Just do it!”
“But you’re not done yet,” Sombra said gravely, as he hovered over the uncompleted dish that had belonged to Guest Number Six. “I told you earlier, I don’t like to waste food. There is still a plate to eat, and you will be the one to finish it.”
Guest Number Four eyed the half-eaten pastry brought before him as new tears trickled down his cheeks. “We were never meant to survive this…” he mumbled to himself. “We were… never…” Then he started doing something that sent harsh shivers up and down the pegasus’ spine.
He started to laugh.
“Hehehehe…”
As he giggled and guffawed he shoved the last remaining pastry in his mouth, most of it breaking off while it clipped the edges of his laughing jaw. Although the pegasus thought he would surly choke trying to perform both acts at once, he hammered his food down while every other breath expelling a new wave of laughter.
In the silence of the room it was terrifying.
“What are…” the pegasus wheezed out, unable to take his eyes from the horrid display.
That was when he caught King Sombra out of the corner of his eye, that smile from earlier in the night returning to the corners of his mouth. Clearly he was enjoying the show.
“Ack!”
The insane laughter ceased in a heartbeat as the stallion coughed up what bits of flaky crust remained in his mouth. Around his neck he wrapped two hooves but they were of little use. A second booming cough sent a small torrent of bloody specks onto his empty plate, while his eyes grew much redder than before. For a few moments he almost chewed at the air before he faced the King during the last few seconds of his life. He didn’t even look mad at the outcome. He only held an expression that seemed to ask, Isn’t this what you wanted all along?
With a flat smack his head collided with the table near the edge of his plate, causing his empty wine glass to spill and his untouched utensils to jostle around. Only a few moments later did the pair of serving ponies come to collect the body, as well as Guest Number Four’s now useless silverware.
The King somberly watched as they went about their business, not nearly as invested as before, almost as though the struggle to get to such a point should have been easier and with less hassle overall. But the pegasus had never thought the King viewed the lives of others as much as they might.
“Now only two remain…” Sombra whispered to no one.
The pegasus felt the older mare’s foreleg grip his own again along with a reassuring squeeze. The first time he had found it odd. This time he clung to it sharply while his nerves shook out of his control.
The King turned to his remaining guests. “Perhaps we will skip the sorbet portion of the evening. Some of our guests haven’t been on their best manners, I’m afraid. But I’m sure you’ll find the dessert to your liking.”
He rang his little bell again.
“Final course,” he said.
12
Before the last meal was brought to them, one of the servers asked the older mare to cross to the other side of the table, probably in a bid to keep the guests in a more sociable arrangement. Without hesitation she crossed to the other side and sat opposite the pegasus, smiling daintily as she unfurled her new napkin to set on her lap.
Guest Number Five never thought he hated the King more than he did then.
He was going to make them watch each other. Possibly in the hope that we’d curse our selected opponent while one of us choked to death on his extravagant food. And what would Sombra do when the night ran its course and his final guest trotted back into his miserable Empire? He’d most likely sleep like a filly while counting how many times he could imagine Guest Number One fly past the window before the sandpony claimed him for the night.
But again, that was only if the King actually slept at all. And considering he didn’t eat…
“I hope it’s not too simple,” Sombra said, as the last two domes were set on their plates.
When they were revealed, Guest Number Five was taken back by their lack of extravagance, but also something much larger. Beneath the dome was a generous serving of apple pie complimented with a dollop of cream. Although he had never tried many types of sweetener or creams during his life in the Empire, he had had his share of apple pie in his time. Once a month—sometimes less, if apples were hard to scavenge together—a small group inside his overstuffed house would collect what apples weren’t fit for sale or were to be sent to the tower. When they’d collected enough, they’d hoof them over to the lower-end cook in their place, who if they had the right ingredients at the time, would cobble together a pie or even just a crisp. If they had nothing in the pantry at all to add to their little dessert, the pegasus had always settled for baked apple slices with a small sprinkling of stolen sugar.
It had always been a simple treat, and yet he would consider them as some of the best moments of his life. Those rare occurrences when his housemates would come together to complete something on their own, right under the very nose of their tyrant leader. And now that same King was offering him something close to the same—something undoubtedly better than anything he could have ever had before. Although the pegasus would be hard pressed to believe the King had gone through much trouble for this dessert to reach their plates.
“It has been such a big meal already,” the King continued. “I would hate to end it on such a heavy note. Please enjoy.”
Guest Number Five was unsurprised to find the older mare already a few forkfuls in. She chewed pleasantly, methodically. She was clearly enjoying each warm mouthful.
“This is really good,” she told the pair of them.
While the pegasus said nothing in return, Sombra regarded the mare with a mild amount of awe. “I’m pleased to hear it, Guest Number Three.” The pegasus wondered if that might not have been the first time a guest of his had actually complimented his opulent meal.
But then again, he thought, how many of them come to him completely out of their minds?
With a remarkable amount of ease, the pegasus pushed his plate away from him, the hill of white cream already melting into the perfectly browned crust. After that he took in a shuddery breath and crossed his forelegs over his chest.
This deliberate move caught the attention of the eating mare. With clear confusion she stared at him. “What are you doing?” she asked, more than shocked. “Please don’t do that. Eat the rest. Please!”
The pegasus shook his head. “No. I don’t want to. I’ve already had my fill for the night. Maybe a bit of air will do me some good. I’ve never really gotten the chance to fly before.” He felt his worn smile crumble under the pressures from within. With added effort he tried to hide it from the mare—the one guest he had actually gotten to care about, all while he knew not a single detail about her. Yet there was still something that connected them. They had shared in the exact same night as the other. To a point, they were survivors of the same ordeal. It was a connection that could never be replicated or created again. It was a bond and for him it would be enough to die for.
If I can’t save an Empire from a King, he thought, maybe a single life will be enough.
“No. No! Please! Eat!” the older mare pleaded, more life running through her weary eyes than the entire night prior. “He’ll make you fall if you don’t! Please. There’s still a chance you can get out!”
Guest Number Five disagreed. “I don’t want to. I can’t save everyone, but I can still save you.” His jaw trembled. “If I don’t eat. I fall. And you go home to your son. I can live with that. I can die with that, too.”
The older mare only shook her head at him, each line on her wrinkled face pulled back in deep worry and sadness. She had wanted the same for him but he had pulled the possibility from her. Overall he was glad.
“I’m ready,” he said to the King, who had been silently monitoring their lively discussion since it began. “Do what you want. I refuse to finish my plate. She wins. She gets to go home.”
“She does not get to go home unless I say she can, Guest Number Five.”
With his head bent studiously to the table, Sombra viewed him through half-lidded eyes. Any calm demeanor he had been trying for had been laid aside, as the dark stallion glaring at him seemed to want to do nothing more than swipe at his throat. With upmost disgust he viewed him.
“You think you can bend my rules, pegasus?” he continued grudgingly. “I do not enjoy it when guests think they can outwit my carefully planned evening. Everyone that enters here has the same chance of exiting as well, if they maintain their manners. Tonight has already gone terribly irregular, and I am running exceedingly thin of patience. Especially while good food is being wasted on the likes of you—those who do not understand just how fortunate they are to even share an evening with the likes of a King.”
A bead of saliva dripped from the corner of Sombra’s clenched teeth. He made no motion to clean it.
He continued on in clipped notes. “If you do not eat than you both will fall tonight. I have done so before and I will do so again.” He gave a tight grin. “You wish to be a hero, Guest Number Five? You still might. Finish your meal and let fate decide. Fifty-fifty odds. You’ve already been very lucky tonight, as it is.”
The air had irregularly been sucked from his lungs. He struggled to take in another breath; to even stare away from his untouched dessert. And then that voice again.
“Please.”
The mare was begging to him again.
“It’s the only way.”
Feeling as though his life was barely his to control anymore, Guest Number Five lowered his head to his wedge of pie, only to eat and think of nothing at all.
It tasted like dirt.
13
A few scattered crumbs remained on his plate and already he could feel it coming—a pain in his lower stomach, rising steadily upward. It had been him all along and he took the news with an odd amount of serenity. Maybe while he strangled to death on whatever spell it was that claimed so many lives before, he could take solace in the knowledge that the mare would go on. She would go on to see her son again. It would be enough, he thought.
Or perhaps he’d try and dive at the King one last time while he strangled for air. What else was there to lose? He’d already lost it all.
Only the pain in his midsection stayed where it was, like an uncomfortable squeezing of the guts. He took his eyes from his finished plate and found the mare already looking upon him; that same tired smile warming her delicate features.
“You remind me of my son,” she told him, her smile slowly breaking near the corners. “He worked in the mine—maybe you knew him. He died four days ago and he was all that I had. Some accident, along with others. I never got to see his body, or kiss him goodbye. But I’m sure he was around your age. I’m sure.
“I’m happy it’s going to be you.”
Using what little strength was left to her, she fixed her beaming smile one last time, as a fine thread of crimson edged out the side of her mouth. Her eyes watered but that was nearly it. Afterwards she closed her eyes and sank in her chair until her head came to rest on the polished table, the trickle of blood escaping her mouth eventually spattering on the rich carpet below.
Guest Number Five watched every last grueling detail and felt every muscle and limb in his body turn to mush. He collapsed backward and couldn’t stop the tears from welling in his eyes before cascading down both cheeks. He moaned silently, overwrought with bare emotion.
He had come there tonight to try and save them all. When that plan seemed beyond reason he had instead tried to save a single one of them from their monster of a King. And even that he could not do. The pegasus had felt more misery in his life than a good number of others, but he had never felt as miserable as then… while around him five died while he could live.
Through blurred vision he watched as they took the mare away and cleared her place. They didn’t bother to touch his plate or utensils, perhaps it was to make sure he didn’t lash out at one of them should they enter his space.
The quiet snap of a door told him they had made their exit from the room.
The warm breath on the back of his neck told him Sombra had finally left his chair by the fire.
“Congratulations, Guest Number Five,” the King said, inches away from the back of his neck. “Did you feel a pain in your gut before? I trust it was just your system trying to adjust to such rich foods. You must feel so lucky now, don’t you? Did you enjoy my play of many acts? There are always so many levels of fear during these feasts—sometimes it’s hard to determine how it’ll all fit into place. Tonight may have started rocky, but I believe we ended on a rather satisfying note.”
The pegasus shuttered as two strong hooves gripped the sides of his head, angling him to the left. The disparaging gravity he had felt for most of the night went into overdrive, as his legs felt nearly pinned to the arms of his chair.
“The unicorn had to be the first to go,” Sombra continued in a lecturing tone. “I’ve always loathed unicorns with a passion. They believe they can be in the same league as a King? She was timid and she was cowardly.” Sombra painfully readjusted his view. “Guest Number One took it upon himself to exit the evening. I dislike it when such disruptions enter my dinners. And then Guest Number Four had to only make matters worse.” He breathed heavily on his neck. “For breaking so many rules he had to be the next to go.”
The last time he moved his head he faced it directly ahead of him, where the body of the older mare had just been dragged from.
“The two of you made for such entertaining company,” he told him earnestly. “Neither of you wanting to live while the other had to die. It’s a rare treat, I must say.” Now the King spoke close to his ear. “The taste of fear is bitter at best. If there is no hope in the mix then it is hardly worth going after. I could have brought you all here for simple execution, but like a true King I enjoy a challenge, as well as more refined tastes. While Guest Number Six died in the hostile grasp of another, his fear was constant and overwhelming. He was going to die and he knew it. But not you, and not that mare far past her prime, either. Delicate fear. Controlled fear. Rewarded fear. It is a taste most refined and I seek it above all else.”
Without letting go of his head, the dark King pulled out the pegasus’ chair to stare at him directly. With narrowed eyes he viewed him, that vapor trail of purple smoke swimming in an unseen current along the sides of his head. So it hadn’t been a legend after all. Sombra only had to eat first.
“I thank you for this meal.”
Sombra’s face came in close and the pegasus could only shut his eyes from the sight. Instead of the intense pain he had been expecting, a rough and wet tongue licked one tearstained cheek before discovering the other. The pegasus tried to pull away as the hard hooves gripping him only clamped down tighter.
A second later Sombra pulled away, the purple floating from both eyes oozing out a shade brighter than before. Without a care he unlocked the pegasus’ head and took a few steps away. Safely away from him, Guest Number Five shook in his chair while running both hooves along his wet face.
With weak legs he shoved himself from his seat, unobserving of the lack of gravity weighing him down. As he fell, the knife sitting idle on his lap went to the carpeted floor soundlessly. He glimpsed it with red rimmed eyes.
“Now come and embrace your King.”
Sombra stood to the side of the fire-pit, meeting the pegasus’ eyes and nothing more.
“Thank him for his generous hospitality.”
Carefully, the pegasus sidled his way over. One of his hooves dragged along the forgotten and unseen knife with him.
“If you are too weak to stand, one of my servants will assist you home. I only ask before you may leave a single gift of appreciation.”
Sombra held out one foreleg in a beckoning gesture.
The pegasus only scooted closer towards him, knife still bouncing against one of his dragging hooves.
It would all be worth it, he thought, as he crossed into the shadow of the King. We could all be free. I could save them all. And if he didn’t? Then I’d still die happy, regardless. At least I tried. At least I did something tonight.
“Say thank you, Guest Number Five,” the King said.
“Thank you,” the pegasus said weakly, “for the wonderful meal.”
King Sombra smiled down on him. “Was that so—”
His sentence was cut short as a silver blade shot up through the bottom of his jaw.
14
The pegasus had the oddest sense of déjà vu, as he watched his poor King struggle with the knife wedged in his mouth and directly through the middle of his tongue. With both darkened hooves Sombra beat at the area around his throat in a means to grab at the handle. Those hooves were only met by a small river of blood that was hurriedly escaping his widening wound. On shaky legs he retreated, coughing in heavy bursts that must have been close to eviscerating his lungs.
It looked as though it hurt. Really it did. At yet it wasn’t enough for him.
The pegasus felt newfound energy enter his limbs and came to his hooves. Two steps forward he leapt up and shoved the King backward with an odd amount of ease. With a softened thud (Sombra still had his cape on) he collapsed to his back where the pegasus instantly removed the knife with two steady hooves, before bringing it back down along his throat.
“Why did you ever come here!” the pegasus screamed, his own words barely coherent as he continued his wrath with the blade. “Why couldn’t you leave us alone? Why won’t you die? WHAT ARE YOU?”
Sombra had stopped fighting with his guest some time ago. His legs hung in midair while his eyes stared blankly at the darkened ceiling. Guest Number Five would not bother to close the King’s eyes. They could dry and rot and even that he would believe would be too good for him.
While he climbed off he gave Sombra’s elongated red horn a swift kick that jerked his lifeless head to the side. Either the horn had been real all along, or it was fused on there something good.
Without another moment left to wonder how exactly he’d exit such a place with hooves covered in the King’s own blood, the pegasus picked a door and went for it. Only a few steps in that direction did a voice bid him to stop.
“You think you are the first to dream of such a sight, pegasus?”
He turned and was close to serene while he viewed the standing dark stallion before him. Any trace of some bloody encounter—if it had ever happened at all—had been swept from the room in the few seconds he hadn’t been looking. Even Sombra looked the same as always. Dark and immaculate. Untouched and unburdened.
He continued, “Many have plotted my death but not a single one will see it come to fruition. I am King of this land and as long as it stands, so will I. You are a brave one, I will grant you that, so I hope the sight of my death warms your cold bed at night as you continue to live in my Empire. Consider yourself lucky to be granted such a reward.” He exhaled a long breath. “But this night had gone on for too long, and there is still one more piece of business to attend to.”
The King snapped away in a haze of smoke and reappeared by the pegasus’ side.
With burning eyes he leaned in and whispered to him: “If you ever speak a single word of what happened here tonight, I will rip out your tongue with my teeth. I will know, Guest Number Five. As long as this remains my kingdom, I will surly know.”
15
Eight months had passed since that night and still the questions came.
The first night back had been the easiest, when the pegasus had snuck into his home in the middle of the night, only alerting the silly few who honestly thought he’d make it back. A few older stallions that bunked close to him hugged him without a word. They followed him closely as he made his way to his bed where he didn’t bother lying down; only stare at the floor with muted shock and so much more on the inside. The first question came next.
“So what happened? What happened to the rest of them?”
The pegasus only regarded his housemate with irritated eyes and said not a word. When someone else tried a new line of questioning, he showed them his back and went to studying the cracked wall near his cot. At the time it seemed like better company.
For awhile he remained as such, listening to the steady breathing of others on their bunks, until a set of small forelegs wrapped themselves around him. It was the young mare that had hoped he would make it back earlier in the day. “I’m happy you made it,” she whispered, burying her head into his side.
That would be the first time he’d cry outside the Crystal Empire tower.
Time went on and the questions lessened.
They never stopped completely, but after a time—and after the pegasus kept mute to the nagging inquires entirely—they abundantly ceased in their amount. A month following that horrible dinner and the only times he was asked was during that last day of the month, when a new batch of poor ponies were invited to dine with the King. Somehow certain ponies remembered him from before. Somehow they just knew where he would be after the reading of the names. It was very hard to stay silent in those times.
“What’s going to happen to my son?”
More than a few fathers and mothers asked him the same question or close to the same, fear evident in their eyes and emotions run amuck. Although they had little hope of saving their loved ones from the tyranny of their King, perhaps they thought knowing what was to befall their young enough to come beg for his answer.
Sadly, they were denied each time.
It was eight months after his own evening with Sombra that it finally happened. Someone close to him—someone that he actually knew well enough in this miserable world—had been invited. He had been sitting alone on his bed (a reoccurring image in the months that preceded it), while he again forwent the latest name reading. What exactly was the point when your name had already been picked?
With genuine tears on her cheeks she had come to him, her breath already hitching from the anxiety that must have been welling up inside. Without a word the young mare that had hoped for his return when he himself went to dine, wrapped herself around him, crying into his shoulder.
A deep chill found his guts and the notion of what must have happened only minutes before pulled at his heart like a hook. It wasn’t fair, he thought. It wasn’t damn fair.
“What did you do?” she croaked in-between sobs. “If I can do that then maybe I can come back too. What’s going to happen to me?”
The pegasus only pulled her in close.
16
Most of the others living in his home were still awake and waiting anxiously in the kitchen for her return. Since his presence might have soured their little get-together, the pegasus had remained in their shared bedroom, spread out on his thin cot but not at all close to drowsy.
The one that visited him wasn’t the one he had been hoping for.
“You smell rather good tonight, Guest Number Five.”
While the rest of his body was close to non-existent in the darkness of the room, his red and green eyes almost floated in the black. The purple smoke from his eyes billowed out richly.
The King must have had a fine meal that evening.
“You’ve been saying things you’re not supposed to, pegasus. I told you what was to happen.”
He heard him edge towards the bed, hoofs on hardwood and cape dragging behind.
“Now open your mouth.”
THE END
Author's Note
So wasn't that horrifically depressing?
Honestly, in my head it didn't seem this bad, but perhaps that's because I know of the (incredibly longer) second part of this story. If I ever get around to it, I'd consider this short as a type of prelude to it: setting up the disparaging Empire and just how evil Sombra is. And yes, in that story Sombra would finally get what he deserves (or would he?). Couldn't a guy with no tongue still lead a revolution?
I better go watch some regular mlp to try and feel better. Perhaps something Pinkie Pie heavy.
Anywho, good night, sleep tight, don't let the Sombra's bite.
