Inside the darkest depths of Tartarus, deep below the first sector, rested a spirit as ancient as the beginning of creation. Instead of being cast into a cage for his eternity, this monstrosity was etched into the side of a volcanic mountain deep within the planet. His warped face and magma bleeding heart kept themselves still. Nothing has ever approached this beast, nor has anything ever will in the next eons to come. This creature, doomed to the abyss of the flowing rivers of volcanic rock, waits year after year for what he calls the 'uprising of a god' to occur.
Back in his time, Equestria was nearly nonexistent. This creature, named the God of Destruction and Malevolence, was forged as the ruler of this early planet. Ponykind and the various other creatures were his arrangement of puppets and dummies, and he was the ventriloquist behind their deeds. His subtle yet accursed tongue would slither into the words of everything that spoke or lived, twisting them with a dark intent. At the best, the words would be spiteful or hurtful, but not too deadly or dangerous. At the worst, these words morphed into actions, and these actions evolved into war, conflict, and chaos. However, all of these minor demeanors were overshadowed by the legendary Reaping of the Weak, a pastime that this deity enjoyed every nanosecond of it to the molten core. Zervonithiir, the God of Destruction and Malevolence himself, would manifest himself onto the planet and terrorize anything or anyone he desired. With his stone claws, his magmatic blood, and his carved teeth of igneous origins, he would plague terror upon not just ponyfolk, but upon all living and nonliving things. He would eat creatures either as small as rabbits or as legendary as dragons, he would flood entire cities and forests in the calm flow of the illuminated, molten rock, and he would steal the souls of the unwary only to cook and disintegrate them into nothing less than drifting ectoplasmic residue in the void. His actions were unspeakable, intolerable, and purely despicable.
Then, on one glorious day, the same that many celebrate to this day as Nightmare Night, this god was exiled from the mortal realm and cast to the depths below the planet. Over the years, chaos, death, famine, and pestilence faded, but it still lingered in some remote locations, thus causing the migration to Equestria and the ideas of war and treachery. Despite the god's severe and crucial impact to the entire universe, his name and description faded away in the sands of time. When the windigoes caused their horrid winter, only his name and a few details remained. When Discord was banished for the first time, he completely vanished into history. The ideals that Discord possessed distracted the ponyfolk from the monster that terrorized their precursors eras ago, allowing the fog that surrounded Zervonithiir to thicken. Now, this deity is trapped in an eternal limbo until a prophetic occurrence builds itself to his cell. He was carved into the side of a violent volcano to express his eternal rage and lust for destruction. Ironically, this is the exact reason he is trapped. His desire for death and sorrow feeds the volcano endlessly, and since his lust never fades, he will never escape. This was the perfect punishment for him. The burning need for destruction and the inevitable but unbelievable meeting racked his form to no end in sight, and nothing he could do would pacify the storm behind his frozen face.
Then, as if it was a whimsical dream, a small, blue wisp drifted towards his form. The wisp was as simple as a gentle soul. Even though it did not possess a mouth nor a tongue to speak, it conversed with Zervonithiir with a calm and slick voice. "Ah, I have heard of a trapped god in these parts of Tartarus. What is your name, imprisoned wrongdoer?"
Zervonithiir's tongue was as deep and guttural as the earth before him. "My name is Zervonithiir, spirit. I am an the original founder of this world. Is not it ironic how I am constricted by my own creation? If I say so myself, you must have encountered quite the punishment to be completely incorporeal. What happened to you, ill-fated spirit?"
The wisp floated an inch closer and supposedly glared at Zervonithiir's locked eyes. "I am, and I was, exactly what you see. I am a creature who was never meant to be. The ancients, the gods of my realm, banished me to the Nightmare Realm, but little did they know that I still act like a spirit. For my own amusement, I enjoy twisting one's mind to what I desire. If a mortal adores another of their kind, or of some other species or object, I might force upon it harshly or cripple their dreams of wanting who they 'truly' love. I am also a wrongdoer myself, but I am not as powerful as you were."
Zervonithiir remembered his weakness with a harsh collision of rage. The seas of lava grew violent as his rage ensued from the fact. After a few seconds of releasing this anger, he calmed to a steady flow once again. "Perhaps we can, aid each other. You are incorporeal, so you cannot physically interact with anything. I can allow you to host my immortal soul to allow this, but I need you to also give me a present in return."
The wisp beamed with intent and foresight as he heard Zervonithiir's words. "What is this 'present' you desire so?"
"I would like to escape this cell. You cannot possibly fathom the punishment of lust whipping your instincts for eons. Now, do we have a sealed deal, or will you leave me here and continue existence as a unimportant spirit?"
"I agree on this deal, Zervonithiir. You seem gentle and well behaved for a punished deity."
And so the wisp slowly floated ever closer to Zervonithiir's liquid heart. When the wisp finally conjoined with the magma, Zervonithiir felt another creature enter his mind. It was as if a voice and two eyes appeared in his ancient vision. He felt a surge of ideas and desires waltz into his collection of ideas and desires. Two minds, two spirits, two creatures, were bound into one membrane, one shell, one aura.
The wisp, now known as Valonithiir, scanned Zervonithiir. He felt the rage and tendencies that plagued him for so long. "My my, you are weak and frail, Zervonithiir, and your gathering rage is not aiding you in this duel. I have a suggestion for you, my friend."
Zervonithiir's voice was calm and firm. "What is this suggestion, Valonithiir?"
"Wash away all of your anger. It has warped your perception on your own power. If you can calm your savage soul, you can see what must be done to escape this prison."
Zervonithiir attempted to calm himself to a solid state. He felt the pacification of his emotions as the inner magma in his heart slowed. The magma soon cooled to a solid stone, and his rage was nearly nonexistent. Little did he know, Valonithiir was secretly channeling this rage into himself and expelling it without alarming Zervonithiir. The stone around his face and heart cracked apart, breaking the deity free from his eternal cage. After some moments of cracking and fragmenting rock, Zervonithiir's face lost its paralyzed state, allowing him to move it freely once more. He also felt, limbs. His limbs felt bound inside the rock, so he used his pure power to release them from the earth's grip. When he finally released his limbs, they exploded out of the Rock and floated next to his heart. Pieces of rock gathered around the holes and openings in his body, creating a new body for himself. This body possessed two arms with four clawed fingers and two legs with four clawed toes.
The stone also stylized the stone and melting rock body. Four horns, two minuscule and two towering, protruded from the top of his orange and red eyes. Spikes formed around his body, and a large imprint in his chest opened the coursing magma and rock inside his hollowish body. A grin with sharp, obsidian teeth cracked along his face, and two holes for his nostrils emitted hellfire and smoke. Two holes opened in the palms of his hands, allowing the creative and destructive capabilities of lava. He felt powerful once more, but he did not feel godlike. He felt, mortal, but he knew that he was indestructible. It was a feeling he could exactly describe in one word.
"Valonithiir," Zervonithiir started with his calm yet demonic voice, "you have given me freedom once more, but I still feel chains upon my back. What reason is there for this penalty?"
"It must be the decay of your powers," Valonithiir answered. "You have been trapped for so long, so something about your existence must have faded away."
"It has. I cannot feel the fear of the creatures on this planet, nor can I feel the life on this world. Why is everything, dead?"
"I do not know, my friend, but this is no time to tinker with your powers. We must now discover our purpose."
"I already know my purpose, Valonithiir."
"And what is this purpose, then?"
"My purpose is to regain my strength and the world I used to control. I will be known as Zervonithiir, God of Destruction and Malevolence once more, and nothing will halt my path to greatness."
"Zervonithiir, we are not separate entities. You are not going to become a god again, we are going to become a god again."
"I suppose that is correct. If that is the case, we are Zervonithiir and Valonithiir, the new ruler of this universe. Everything will bow before us, no matter how big or small."
And that is how this legendary duo came to be. Two spirits, one incorporeal and one immortal, were bound to regain and collect what they desire the most. For the first time in history, ponykind will witness the resurgence of their original ruler.
This is the end of the side tale. Do not expect a sequel of this short story, but expect a tie with the future and what it has to hold.
