The night was silent. There was no wind. There was no snow. There were only the moon, the stars, and an endless sheet of ice, stretching toward the horizon in all directions.
Suddenly the ice groaned, quivering with unfathomable energy. The earth shook for an eternity, then laid still again.
~~~
Hundreds of feet below the surface, the dark cold of the ice began to give way to a dull, blue light, emanating from a small orb hovering in the air. Surrounding this blue light was a small cave, completely cut off from the surface. Its walls were lined with beautiful white crystals, causing the entire chamber to gleam in the light’s presence.
Hunched over next to one of the walls, facing away from the blue glow, was a shadowy figure. His name was King Sombra, former ruler of the Crystal Empire.
In front of him, sprawled out like a map, were rocks of various shapes and sizes. In the centre was a much larger one, surrounded by multitudes of other, much smaller stones, arranged in a ring. Sombra was staring at them intensely.
“Cryystalsss…” he muttered under his breath.
He turned his gaze toward a different clump of rocks to his left, much further away. In the middle was a large stone, piled with other tiny ones and two pieces of white stone. Further away from that pile was a single shard of translucent crystal, sitting alone. It was flecked with dirt to form what appeared to be a smiling face.
With a burst of magic, he sent it on a slow journey to the edge of the ring in front of him. There, the crystal paused momentarily. Sombra kept them there with a low light from his horn, while carefully pushing other rocks around, acting as barriers to the crystal shard. He frowned, and moved it to another position. Again. And again.
Then, a devilish grin slowly appearing on his face, he raised a hoof and stomped the shard, breaking it into hundreds of tiny pieces. His horn flared, and each of the pieces flew to surround the ring of stones. They spun in place for a moment, before being violently thrown into the ring to crash into the centre stone. Each piece cracked under the sudden pressure. Sombra smiled.
His work complete, he turned his attention to the other pile of rocks. He plucked the two white stones from among them and held them close, examining them closely, deep in thought. After a few moments, he sent them flying toward the ring before him, sending them to various positions along the border of the ring.
”Annoying princesses…”
Giving a contemptuous growl, he cast the two stones aside and stood, stretching his sore limbs. He gave a short yawn, then proceeded to the crystal barrier. On it were innumerable tally marks, invisible from afar, stretching the length of the wall. He strode to an otherwise unassuming point and bent over to scratch another mark in the wall with the tip of his horn.
He sighed and turned back to the map. Kneeling down, he examined a pebble within the ring. This particular stone was smooth, and had two indents that resembled eye sockets. The King smiled, then simply put it back down again.
His eyes swept over the scene once more until he found his targets: the white stones from earlier. He pulled them close again, boring into their surfaces with his intense gaze, gritting his teeth. Out of nowhere, he exploded, sending them flying toward the cave walls. A small tink could be heard as they collided with the crystal, and they pattered against the cool dirt floor.
Sombra watched them fall as they had each day for days on end. The more he watched it, the more they seemed to slow, and the less satisfying it felt. Aside from that brief fit of anger, he almost felt nothing this time.
The King sighed and collapsed to the ground, closing his eyes as he prayed for a short day.
The earth rumbled.
His eyes fluttered open. It happened again.
Sombra lept to his feet and feverishly ran along the wall, counting the tally marks. Was it time?
1000… 2000… 5000… 10,000…
The walls shook again.
This time, the walls he was running along gave a small, crystalline crack. He stopped in his tracks at once and turned to see it. He couldn’t believe his eyes.
Hairline fractures were spreading along the walls at a remarkable rate. The immaculate blue gleam of the crystals was punctured with shadow.
Sombra smiled.
Could he even be feeling... joy?
He closed his eyes, smelling victory. His horn glowed with a sickly green light, at first dull, which gradually grew to become blinding, filling the entire cave. At its peak, he sent it crashing outward, to hear the sound of shattering glass.
He opened his eyes once more, and saw that the walls were tumbling in on him, shards of crystal pouring into the cave. He slipped into his ethereal form at once, avoiding the hail of crystal, and immediately soared upward through small cracks in the now exposed rock.
Up and up he went, going faster and faster until…
Silence. And cold.
Sombra grinned. ”Freedom…”
In the distance, he could see a silhouette of an enormous castle, barely perceptible beyond the flakes of calmly falling snow.
He felt giddy, like he hadn’t felt for hundreds of years. He turned back to his pony form and took in the sights and feelings as he began to practically soar toward the empire, smiling more and more as he got closer and closer.
Finally, he peaked a small hill where the flurries had died down, giving him a closer look at the Crystal Empire. Just as he left it…
He turned to face the south, where in his mind’s eye he saw a gleaming city. A city filled with white marble and gold. A facade. In that city were his two mortal enemies, the two who had thwarted his plan all those moons ago.
He turned back toward the Crystal Empire and thought of the pebble he had picked up a few minutes before. Down there, somewhere, was a pony like that pebble. Small, insignificant, and powerless. Likely hundreds of them.
He pondered that for a moment. Were they really necessary to his plan…?
Yes.
Yes, they were part of it all. They were more than necessary; they were the reason.
He turned back to give one last glance in the direction of Canterlot. “Tyrants.” He then returned his gaze toward the Crystal Empire.
In Canterlot they were tyrants, but the populace likely called him by the same. But here, where they held no power, because of him, he would be called something different. Perhaps not at first, but in time. They’d recognise what he had done.
They’d call him Deliverer.
Author's Note
Written for the F*** This Prompt 9 contest.
