The Everfree was a place never to be traversed lightly. While the return of the Elements to the Tree of Harmony had restored some semblance of calm to the forest in many places, anypony who'd been around during the last century knew that it was a dangerous place to venture alone.

Unfortunately for Sombra, he had not been around for the last century, and that would soon very nearly be his undoing.

This wasn't to say he grew complacent, even reconstituted so long after his defeat: Waking up in the depths of the forest surrounded by crystal dust, he'd jolted to consciousness and to his hooves, panting raggedly, disoriented even as he took a defensive stance. It had been long since he'd needed to defend himself against a direct threat, but the reflexes were there. His body tensed in such a way that he could spring to any direction he needed, but while his horn would ordinarily be poised and ready to unleash a torrent of pain, he was yet to fully realize that he even was once more. Magic took focus that he simply didn't have. His movements were nearly feral instinct, and his eyes darted about from place to place, giving him the countenance of a pony who'd just woken from the worst of nightmares.

Only the rustling of leaves surrounded him.

With no danger in sight, he relaxed somewhat, and glanced about. He felt he should have been...where? It should have been colder; this was all wrong, even though he knew not why. Even before he found himself in control of his faculties and perception, however, he felt a pull to a direction he'd soon mark as south. He began walking, and each step grew more steady as he found himself on four hooves. He no longer simply was, he was a pony again. The rest slowly followed as he took the lead offered to him by his horn, reacting to the presence of concentrated, old magic.

Jumbled thoughts and memories sorted themselves out in his mind as crimson eyes, no longer--or not yet again--burning with dark magic, took in the surroundings. It was dark even with the daylight masked beyond the canopy of trees, and this suited him just fine. He'd always liked the shadows after all. They suited him. He'd creep through them, unnoticed, and the things that ponies would say when they didn't know they could be heard! Most often whispers of...a name? Yes, that was it. A name, his name. Sombra. Why had they only been whispers?

"Hm," he spoke aloud, and no more, as he remembered further details, the pictures and voices fitting into a timeline steadily. He'd been quite good at the power game...until something had happened, hadn't it? It was...

Well, this was an impressive castle. It looked familiar, as though he'd seen it before it lay in its current, ruined state. He pushed aside his meandering thoughts on himself and approached, feeling the steady background thrum of magic in the air. Enough magic had been expended here to make the land itself go wild, by the feel of it. The castle itself could be dangerous, and so with a name and a purpose, he ventured in, on his guard.

The castle had been interesting, at least. Labyrinthine below the first level and with no shortage of reliefs that told of history that he'd lived through as though it was yesterday, it poised little challenge to him to navigate. With his memory steadily being jogged, the few genuine traps and pitfalls were completely mitigated by simple questions: Where would he have placed a trap?

Hours later, the light through the canopy had turned golden, and the grey stallion strode out of the castle unscathed, with a curious dark crystal which dangled from a gold chain about his neck. It had given the most powerful impression of anything he'd found within.

A mild clarification; it felt the most powerful while being portable and safe. There were greater sources of magic; many were part of the structure or rooms, and no small quantity of the more manageable objects were simply books of wills. Not something mundane like final testaments, but wills that could be exerted over minds. They could tell a story through sights, sounds and smells, or they could be a powerful tool or weapon. The latter could turn on the unprepared easily, giving them overriding and self-destructive urges which they would follow until their dying breath.

As he hadn't the focus to examine any such tomes without opening them and exposing himself to their influence, Sombra decided the pendant truly was his safest bet. Most jewelry of this sort was designed as protection, and with enough power channeled into such an artifact, the bearer would become very well protected from physical or magical harm, or even nigh-invulnerable.

He walked, and trod again through his memories as he did. Sans effort, they'd slid into almost perfect place, up to and including his final memory of his routed return. I did not dream that attack. That was real. I fought and was defeated. I do not think my crystal magic will preserve me through such a conflict again...

The Crystal Empire was clearly a loss. The Heart could repel him, it could hurt him, and it could very well kill him. He'd be a fool to return there and attempt to conquer it. Where else would he conquer? Canterlot? He'd be equally bereft of sanity to attempt that.

He felt himself diminished from the state he'd been in the height of his power. The happenings during the siege on his Empire had taken their toll upon his body and his magic both, and he knew he would need to adapt as he pushed on. With some experimentation he'd done before leaving the castle, he found that he could make himself a shadow no more, nor did his crystal manifestations grow as they once had. It might take time, or it might be lost to him forever...

The deposed King would have been perfectly content to continue pondering if he'd not heard an unnerving growl from close by, and the rustle of underbrush to his side. Without looking, he dropped and pushed to the left, rolling to the right and seeing a tawny blur swipe where his head had been. He came back onto his hooves and leaped again backwards, now facing the direction the assault had come from.

A manticore was seldom if ever seen in the frozen north, but its appearance was unmistakable. He was on guard in an instant, daring not run and staring down the beast as it coiled for another strike. It would not leave him waiting long.

Fluttershy wasn't that much farther into the Everfree than she often went with the strictest necessity when she heard the first sounds of carnage. Her first and only instinct was to run from the danger. Indeed, she was halfway through dropping her gathering basket by the side of the trail and turning for the safety of home when she heard the one thing that could have terrified her more than just feral growls and thrashing.

Spoken words.

She couldn't make them out, aside from an occasional loud-and-clear expletive, but she immediately realized that there was a pony--or some other species of unfortunate traveler--in danger. The fact that the confrontation seemed to be drawn out and stationary only made it worse: What if an innocent creature, simply and rightfully defending its territory, was injured or worse because of the interloper?

The pegasus dropped her gathering basket by the side of the trail, as planned, then rushed forth to find predator and prey alike.

Fortune seemed to smile on Sombra in one way: If the manticore had assaulted him any earlier, he would have been too out of tune with himself to last more than seconds against the beast. He dodged more than he countered as he used the moments between to take in his surroundings. Despite it all, he still had no better idea of which way would lead him out of the forest, which was rapidly losing what little good standing it once had with him.

As he ducked another swipe, he tried to lance out with his magic again, only to feel the aether dissipate, maintaining all of its potency and none of its focus. As soon as the crimson light left his horn, it didn't get a hoof's breadth from his body before it lost cohesiveness. Fantastic, he groused internally. If the beast bites into me I can sear its tongue off for all the good it will do me.

As his thoughts turned to what brought him this way in the first place, he would have slapped himself in the face with a hoof had he the chance. The pendant dangled about his neck still, just waiting for a charge! He grinned, jumped back several paces and set his hooves in a wide stance. His horn lit.

"I am Sombra, last of the Umbrum and rightful King, you cur!" he growled as he suffused the pendant with magic, able to see its glow even out of his field of vision. "You will not lay me lo-"

Sombra felt the pendant reach its threshold of aether before it would not absorb more. It was very abrupt when it happened. He looked down in time to see the gem flare...then duplicate itself, chain and all. The spare, identical in every way, dropped to the ground with a soft noise.

"What."

His disappointment in finding a self-replicating amulet--intricate and insanely difficult magic to craft, to be sure, but useless in a fight--nearly cost him everything. He was a moment slow in dodging the next attack, which came not from claw or fang, but a whip of the manticore's barbed tail. He felt his coat stirred by the proximity of the swipe even as he rolled away, and he came back to his hooves, teeth bared in fury at not only the beast but himself for being lost in the moment. He counted himself lucky as he glanced at his side that he hadn't been-

Drip.

The ground below him bore a single spot of crimson. He didn't feel anything until he actually saw the gash, paper-thin but with an ever-expanding wash of red around it. He was bleeding. He'd been only nicked by the manticore, but both knew: That was enough. In a minute, he'd be too weak to stand; without treatment within the next couple of hours, he'd be dead. Satisfied--smug, even, to Sombra's eyes--the hunter turned and walked back the way it had come, presumably to its den. It could come back at its leisure.

"No...not like this." Sombra groaned, staggering already, his breathing labored as he took to walking. "Celestia, smite me...Luna, hound my dreams for eternity, let the Crystal Heart...burn me," he spat, "but not...n-not li...like..."

He knew not his direction as his pace faltered. Maybe it would be the way out and somepony would find him. He'd accept detainment and punishment so long as it wasn't losing his life to something so mundane as a wild animal. First an itch, then a flare of pain spread outward from the cut as his vision blurred. Green all around, but he could make out no features. He tripped over something unseen and went sprawling to the ground with another groan of agony. He tried lifting himself up, but exhaustion claimed him soon after. He looked up.

Yellow, all around him. Hah, he thought, with less and less coherence, a genuine smile on his muzzle. Sunlight. Found...the way out...

Author's Note

Shied away from the Fluttercam(tm) in favor of a more neutral perspective. Hope it's none too jarring and still enjoyable! Will try to get the next part out somewhat soon.