Death unto Light

by ThePloyMaker

Rating: teen
Tags: Zecora, Sad, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Spike, King Sombra, Adventure, Twilight Sparkle
Length: 1092

A narrative poem, akin to a Greek epic that depicts Twilight's journey to revive a fallen Spike.

A narrative poem. At the end of a long battle with Sombra, Spike is killed in a spiteful attempt to attack Twilight. Forlorn, Twilight seeks a way to bring him back. (Title may change.)

Published 2015-12-30 16:00:02 UTC
Last updated 2015-12-30 16:00:02 UTC

Prelude

To the princesses I call,
So that I may have strength
That this story recalled
Be completed at length.

To the goddess of sunlight,
I ask for your rays
To purge lies that may blight
When I speak of those days.

To the goddess of stars,
Your serenity become mine
Through the lyrical bars,
Every stanza and line.

Help guide those who will see
To the lesson you've taught.
This burden, this lot,
To teach falls to me.

Death we know as cunning.
Captures all in his grip.
Yet from his finger tips
Some choose to try running.

What is worse, though,
are those who tried stealing;
who from Death they tried healing,
But now they do know

That Death is a jealous pony
Whose wrath quickly explodes.
They pay more than he's owed,
and who's left is left lonely.

I assert thee, my student:
be it slow, be it fast,
He will have his amusement.
He will have his last laugh.

After a millennium imprisonment
Escaped both empire and king.
The former was innocent,
The latter a malevolent thing.
This, the Crystal Empire that I speak
Was caused by King Sombra to be loveless, weak.

But the efforts of Twilight Sparkle,
and her dragon assistant,
made this empire much less matriarchal,
And from the King's hatred resistant.
The ponies spirits she raised,
The dragon a crystal heart saved.

Though the King through barrier attacked
To keep his subjects submissive
He found that power he now lacked,
His harsh rule turned permissive.
And through the crystal Heart's power
They toppled his black crystal tower.

The subjects rejoiced.
The ruler believed dead.
And with heart and with voice
they cheered, fears put to bed.
But the mist was still lurking,
On his revenge he'd be working...

From a few months of wondering
He'd finally caught wind
Of a queen whose blundering
Led to her subjects' chagrin.
This queen, though not a pony
Had quite the talent of being a phony.

Her subjects where starving,
And she couldn't provide.
Too many headstones they were carving.
"It will get better," she lied,
But they remained loyal.
For her changelings, she toiled.

They fed from what they could,
Getting more and more desperate.
Rags where banners once stood.
Their nest more and more desolate.
There were dying whispers of mutiny,
But the queen passed their scrutiny.

One day, a black mist
rolled into their nest.
Into their thoughts it hissed,
"Does the queen really know best?"
The changelings fought the thoughts back.
But their commitment started to crack.

The revolt started small,
With a few changelings imprisoned,
But the black mist still called,
And soon a revolution had risen.
But the small army was still a minority,
and the queen's changelings were still top priority.

Then a black unicorn appears
Promising better life, better health,
Saying the queen was incompetent,
And thought just of herself.
A larger army he raised,
And then her nest he razed.

They stormed her quarters,
She didn't even fight.
She stood down her supporters,
And thought toward her plight,
"Perhaps, for them, this is best,"
As they blasted holes in her chest.

An army was now at Sombra's disposal.
Though weak from years starved,
His promises of love that's ambrosial
Their undying loyalty carved.

He spoke of an attack on the ponies,
And rallied the changelings to attack.
The changelings critiques halted only
By a thick mist, deep and black.

His plan was one of stealth,
Not a full fledged attack.
Replace a few ponies with wealth,
Make industry collapse.

In Canterlot, out of nowhere,
Business slowed to a hault.
Factories soon grew bare.
Many ponies laid off.

The ponies pondered the problem,
And, as businesses failed,
And an anger soon blossomed,
At her boss one pony flailed.

During this short, violent scrimmage,
A punch had hit truly.
It shattered the changelings false image.
It hissed at her cruelly.

The changeling was imprisoned,
And interrogated fully.
The ponies didn't believe vision,
And their trust had been sullied.

The princesses sought aid
From this vile paranoia,
And found an ink made
by the zebra, Zecora.

It revealed the true form,
Be it pony or changeling.
It was soon required worn,
The paranoia then waning.

It soon became clear
That his scouts wouldn't return.
Sombra's anger was reared,
As his first plan was burned.

He would have to use force,
And he thought where to start,
The Crystal Empire was his course.
His objective the: crystal heart.

The objective was soon completed,
With not even a shout,
The heart was left public, unheeded
His insect got the heart and got out.

As the thief returned,
Sombra rallied a front
Toward the empire he turned
His attack forceful and blunt.

The Empire stood no chance
They tried to retreat
But the opposing's chants
Made them freeze on their feet.

"All will be spared,
As long as none try to flee."
The phrase stopped all who cared
Of their captured families.

And with utmost ease,
The empire was again his.
His army could feed,
No greater vict'ry than this.

And with a captured
Place of operations,
He started, enraptured
His a war preparations.

Now, our story takes place
in a war-stricken land
Where there's scars on each face
and the food's mostly canned.

Where the fighting was worst,
land is desolate, deserted.
The poor animals are forced
from their burrows reverted.

A yellow pegasus hurries
the critters to new forests.
As shots are fired they scurry
from the damned, hellish chorus.

The flying insectile equines
make a powerful army
whose attacks one would find
to resist was near barmy.

But the ponies fight with valor,
And so the war rages.
They showed strength in their caliber,
So that peace'd be their wages.

Now, this story I tell you
Is not of war or a fight,
But to bring death to light,
From what most thought they knew.

This is a fantastical journey
Of one whose intentions seemed pure,
But thoughts of beating death lured
her into a road that's most thorny.

Author's Note

Since I do not have an editor, and that I write and proofread most of this at three in the morning, pointing out grammatical mishaps and places where the meter seems weird would be a big help to me. Anyways, this took a heck of a lot of work to finish, and I can't imagine the rest will be any easier, so some love and encouragement will be greatly appreciated.