Frozen, still, he thought. Frozen in the block of whiteness surrounding his torn body, where the pieces floated in tandem near and far. They were black as night, contrasting the scene before him. His eyes floated too, or so he assumed. He knew he was seeing out of them, peering into the aftermath of what those Elements did to him, but he wasn’t truly sure. Did those Elements really destroy him or make him suffer in an endless dance where only he danced alone? Where no female was to carry him through and through the patterns--no, he didn’t need love or friendship. Those were just distractions from his plan.
Frozen still in the white existence was where Sombra, who was once a powerful ruler whose main goal was to take over everything, stayed. He wanted what the Crystal Empire had to offer almost instantly. It was all supposed to be under his grasp, his reigning rule by the red shard upon his head, glowing before the millions of ponies who would bow before him in sheer love of his plated hooves. Yet, downscaling reality didn’t hold his fantasy, but being alone in the trap where the Elements had forgone was where he remains, floating, endlessly.
He watched as his horn floated past, still in that vicious red glow sworn to be his final attempt to break free. It didn’t show when he left; the world thought it was right to leave the glow inside, yet when he… arrived, the glow had registered, and there, the frozen glow remained. It was powerful, strong, a great counter if it had been released a few moments before the ray from the Elements had shattered his entire being.
He…
Sombra stood.
Sombra stood frozen.
Forever--until Sombra became true.
The horn glowed to a larger radius, spanning from its current location, which was near his right fore hoof, that dangled by the threads of life that were stained a pure, unadulterated red, and the right hind leg, which was pure without the blood ruining its color. As the horn’s glow grew in radius, so did the light. It was so bright, so red and light, that when Sombra watched, he felt his legs twitch, his muzzle itch, his tail swish, his brow raise; everything was being felt again in tandem to the horn’s growing presence. He was new. He was becoming himself again.
One by one, pieces of his broken self met slowly in the center, where he saw all the action. His lids, where he had imagined them, allowed him to blink a couple times at the sheer disbelief. Maybe the Elements didn’t destroy him, but yet showed him the pieces he failed, and how those pieces make up a part of him. Yet, Sombra knew he wasn’t a failure; those pieces were lies. Those were mistakes he did not see coming, and instead, he knows now that they are going to be stuck with him forever. Yet, these pieces were not going to shove their own authority into his plans. No mistakes are to be made with this new, created plan.
He didn’t want the ponies’ attention. Sombra knew that. Ponies are supposed to desire to be seen, not easily be given the attention they want. It’s not about wants in his newly reformed kingdom. No, his desires are to be put on blast, but not be heard. No one must have their desires heard. Not even his.
It’s only the necessities Sombra wanted to focus on: a kingdom: a well-oiled machine with ponies ready to fight under the Blood Red Crystal Heart, which was the sign of his nation. He wanted it to be a bold, clear stance of his rule: bleed red if you disobey, but bleed red if you create the nation anew. Two contradictions, Sombra thought, two phrases that disagree. Yet he knew what they meant: death for one, and desires for another. Giving the right desires, the needs, what they desire.
Sombra smiled. He felt his lips again. They were there, of course, curved upward to match his face. He felt reconstructed there, but everywhere else below his shoulders felt wrong, destroyed, incomplete. This was all part of the Elements’ plan; their reforming process. It saw him as an incomplete piece where evil only resided, but now…
...Sombra believed it needed to have a replaced vision because he, at heart, was still evil. He could not turn from it, there’s no reason to be freed from what he does best. Like other ponies, talent comes from the heart, soul, and mind. The cutie mark is just a tattoo that was stamped on to use as a symbol of being whole, completed, a sign that maturity has come into fruition and that the hole that was empty was now filled. Here, Sombra had that, but…
...the tattoo never stayed. So he covered his flank with his mighty red cape, which hugged tightly against his flank to secure his identity. Of course, Sombra knew his talent, but his intent made it leave him forever. His mark threatened the balance in the world, so the Elements kept it hidden, or Sombra assumed, leaving a blank space behind in hopes of letting him become new again. “Reformed” as they would put it.
Sombra didn’t like them. Why would he conform to their rule? He wanted his rule. He needed his rule.
So, as Sombra became reborn, he knew when he was released from his prison, the world would once again bow to him with ease. They would bow to him…
They would all bow.
Bow to him.
Being whole wasn’t a gift Sombra thought he would receive.
The Elements, a weapon of powerful aura and a decision maker above all other Equestrian power, decided it would be a great idea to drop him off here, in a desert.
Are you kidding me?
Set in the hot tundra of the deserts below every target he wanted to annihilate for simply being in a comfortable environment, Sombra walked.
Blasted Elements! Ruining my plans to secure the Crystal Empire for my own, ravaging armies.
He stopped. Ravaging Armies? He didn’t want to hold hordes: a disgusting order of soldiers who savagely scour the landscape to burn and eat those in their path. Sombra didn’t want cannibals on his side, no, not even he would eat a corpse and live to tell the tale. Sombra wanted knights roaring their powerful calls and striking down their opponents with malicious, yet graceful ease. The swift attacks with pleasant rewards: a vision of Sombra’s engaging military leadership.
Sombra smiled. That vision would be reality as soon as he escaped his prison once again. First it was white, floating, and actually quite comfortable to be frozen in, yet the cruel reality of being born again by a few pieces of metal and six ponies magical properties made him be tossed in a hot, steamy boiler where sand was his only company.
“Ponies,” he muttered while gritting his teeth. “They’re all the same.”
Yes, Sombra thought as he walked under the hot coals of time. They are all the same. They are just recolored fabrications designed to walk along the same walk of life. It’s all part of living, in fact, as a pony.
As a pony.
Sombra smirked. He was not a pony. He was a spirit, a restless soul walking inside a skeleton of a pony that was fabricated of his own design. No divine creator developed him. No mother who had a great, desire to birth such a foal. No, he was born…
He was born from the crystal.
His destiny was the crystal.
It was his…
“It is mine…”
Walking towards the light, Sombra knew where he was going.
Home, where his heart would be.
Author's Note
2:22 Start time. Your story track.
