There were two unicorn stallions in front of him, and standing in the middle was a pegasus mare. Clear Cut, Hard Facet, and Ice Dreams. They were irritated, angry and many words along those lines. They had failed again. They always did. He wasn't dead yet. He always survived, no matter how hard they tried to do him in. By Tartarus, they did try. But he couldn't. He was the last. The last of the Ateus, the last of the rebellion. A cry that would not be silenced by those who did not wish to heed its call, nor acknowledge that they are the cause of it. They saw him as a monster, not understanding that most monsters are made, and not born.

"Why isn't he dead yet? That frost magma should've been enough to kill even a Wendigo." Ice Dreams had the coat of freshly fallen snow, her mane a pattern of all dark blues both named and not. She had icy blue eyes, and on her flank was a Z made from ice with smoke coiling around it like a foggy snake. She had a voice like warm honey. But like his adoptive father had once said; beware those with voices of honey, for they may rot your teeth. Sound advice, coming from a very grumpy stallion.

"I'm sorry, but we don't have an answer, m'lady. Why not leave him to the wastes and let the gods decide?" Said Clear Cut. Ice Dreams glared into his grey eyes, the stallion's soft ivory coat standing on end in fear. On his flank, lay a perfectly cut ruby and a chisel next to it. "Why not feed him to the Wendigo?"

"We've already tried that, and he became pals with the cretins. Keep trying. He'll eventually die. If not from our efforts then it'll be him realizing that there is no escape from what he deserves." When you are different, others look down on you. They fear you. Hate you. Wish ill will or even resort to harming you for not being like them. It was something many races had to endure at the hooves of the ponies. They did not understand nature. They sought to control it. But he would not bow to them. He would not bend to their fears and their madness. He was far too above them for that.

Ice Dreams walked away, a grimace of her normally beautiful muzzle. Clear Cut looked at Hard Facet, the two then looking down at the half-dead body before them. To their dismay, he seldom got further than that. It hurt. Everything they did hurt, but he never gave up. He did not know why, but he never gave in, even when he wanted to.

"Send out for Ruby Court. He'll want his pet to be ready for the next try." That name. It was a name that burned his ears, that soiled his tongue and stilled his hearts. Ruby Court. One of the few things he still feared or acknowledged that he feared. It did not even deserve to be called a *he*. It was a monster, one that brought great terror to him. "Look, he's shaking. Think he remembers what happens when Ruby ain't happy?"

"I'd be disappointed if he didn't." A voice that frozen volcanos echoed in his ears. He trembled, practically vibrating despite being trapped under frozen obsidian, fear overloading him. Ruby Court was here. If you speak the devil's name, he shall appear. The monster put a hoof to his face. While Ruby Court had a warm smile, his eyes were different. They were evil eyes. Each plucked from demons in the very depths of Tartarus. Softly, Ruby Court spoke. "It's time for your cleansing, my sweet little shadow."

And then he woke up. It was another nightmare Sombra wished he'd stop having. They weren't helpful in the slightest, just reminders that he couldn't go back until he had allies, many of them. To go alone, was to die alone. The stallion growled as he pulled his injured body off the dirty ground. Being so used to pain it didn't bother him, not as much as it should have. He was in a strange forest, one that he didn't recognize.

Sombra had performed a very powerful, and very emotional, teleportation spell. One sending him miles away from the Empire, or Kilometers. In his haze, Sombra could not picture very clearly where he wanted to go. As long as it was away from the Empire, he hadn't cared. As there was not a snowflake in sight, he was not in the frozen north anymore. He couldn't turn to the Wendigo for help, one of the few allies he had left.

He limped through the forest, exhaustion screaming through his still regenerating limbs. He pushed on anyway. Even when his vision had begun to blur, Sombra didn't stop. If he did, he might not get back up again. His magic reserves were low, his stomach was empty, and his mouth was dry. Sombra was not in any condition to move. He seldom ever was.

He tried. He had tried to very hard, but his legs betrayed him and gave out. And then, Sombra was alone. Left to lay in an unknown forest as unknown creatures sung around him. Sombra had never heard birds before. In the north, it was too cold for there to be any avians or insects, while this place had them in abundance. Unable to do much other than breathing and blinking, so Sombra watched, and he listened to all that was around him.

Every now and again, Sombra would see passing fauna. Some were simple animals that he had seen drawings of or read about, others were strange creatures he had found no scripture on. Sometimes there would be rabbits with deer antlers, chickens with dragon tails and there had been a monster with a tiger head, a goat head and a snake coming from its rear. Sombra was unsure about what that one was.

Then he heard a sound. It was faint, but he recognized that cries of fear. Someone, or something, was in great terror or pain. Would he allowed his body to give in, or would Sombra get off his flank and do something? He decided to do the latter. It took more effort that Sombra would have liked, but the cries of fear were getting louder, so Sombra used them to fuel what little strength he had left.

Once on his aching hooves, Sombra limped towards whatever was making the sound. Sombra was a lot of things, but he wasn't a coward. He wasn't a knight, nor was he a saint, but he wasn't willing to lay back while others cried for their lives. When he was young, Sombra had cried for aid which was ignored by those who laid back, who had done nothing to help. Sombra wouldn't let others suffer the same. Even the mute had voices, and you just needed to change your way of hearing them.

Sombra, surprising to him, did not have to go far. There was a creature Sombra did recognize, a manticore., and it was attacking a little orange filly pegasus with a purple mane. He knew her wings were deformed the moment he saw them. The filly was trapped. She was hiding beneath a tree, crying, while the monster smashed his weight against it. He was going to break down the tree, and then kill the foal. While Sombra did not have much love for ponies, there were a few that he grew attached to, one was a pegasus he looked up to like a father, a stallion named Silver Stream.

Silver Stream taught him that anyone who couldn't save themselves needed help from others, and Sombra was that other. Even in his weakened state. Pony or no, someone needed help, and he was going to give it.

Sombra's eyes glowed. Slowly, he changed form. Flesh and bone became a shadow, one seething with rage and anguish, a potent combination for a dark magic user. When the manticore finally realized that there was a shadow beast near him, he turned to face it. It wanted to take his prey, and he would not allow that. The manticore swiped at him, but his paws went right through the shadow. The monster blinked in confusion, and Sombra slowly opened his mouth, hunger starting to claw at his mind.

Sombra lunged at the confused beast, biting it in the neck, but it wasn't enough, so Sombra reverted to his physical form. He had much more force in his bite in this form. The animal was screeching, running around, and trying to claw Sombra off of him. The stallion didn't let go. As he continued to add more pressure, blood was now rushing into his mouth and dripping onto the ground. With his mouth no longer dry, he could add even more force. The manticore jabbed him in the back with its tail, but that didn't stop him.

Sombra let go, falling against the claw scarred ground. The grip of blood loss was starting to take its hold. He was struggling to see. The overuse of his magic had drained him more than he anticipated. If he became unconscious, the monster would surely eat him. He didn't want to go through that again. The piercing of the skin, the feeling of teeth scraping against the bones, and the ripping of the flesh, all of those memories making him feel sick.

A glass bottle filled with a green liquid was thrown and shattered against the manticores face. The smell was acidic, and the monster screamed. It wiped at its face as it slowly started to melt. It ran off, its cries capable of chilling the empty spots of the heartless. Sombra watched as four striped hooves walked in front of him, the telling signs of a Zebra. He used to know a Zebra, a young stallion called Kito. The name translated into Precious Stone, a name very fitting for the Crystal Empire.

"Never in my days did I think I would ever meet you, so it's a shock to see you out of the blue." She was a shaman, how fascinating? Only shaman Zebra spoke in rhyme. When it came to shamans, and their rhyming, it was either irritating or tolerable. After a few moments, he heard a small pop, one that put him on more edge than before. The sound he had heard was a cork being pulled from a glass vial, not that he knew. She slowly lifted his tired head and gently pressed the opening against his lips.

Her strong cyan eyes met Sombra's mix of brilliant scarlet and grayish sap green. Too weak to fight against her, the Zebra slowly opened his mouth, and poured the liquid in, never breaking eye contact with him. He was starting to feel tired, more so than before.

She smiled as the effects of the potion started to take effect. Zecora also marveled at him. Most would be asleep the moment they smelt the potion, but he needed half of it to feel drowsy. Her people called him Skaduwee Kraai or Shadow Crow. It was a rough translation of Cuervo Sombra's name.

"I-is it safe to come out...?" Said the fearful voice of a familiar orange pegasus. Zecora nodded, watching as she came from hiding. The filly was hesitant to be around such a large equine, but she was thankful. "He saved me from the manticore. Even though he was hurt he helped me." He wasn't asleep yet, but he wasn't going to be able to do much.

"Please stay here while I go get a cart unless you would not like to take part?" Scootaloo shook her head and sat down next to the stallion. Zecora didn't want to leave them alone, but she was the only one who could get the cart. If anything happened, Scootaloo could make another call, and she'd come running to help them.

"Before you go, do you know his name? I don't think I'll be able to ask." Zecora gave his name, and then she walked back into the forest from whence she came. Scootaloo looked back at the stallion, smiling. "I don't think you can hear me, but my name is Scootaloo. Nice to meet you Sombra."

Author's Note

It's probably a bit of a mess, but I'm using Grammarly now, and it's very bossy. I can't afford the full package, but the little I have is very demanding. I'm sorry if it's hard to read, but I wanted to twist the story about the 'tryant king' and the 'innocent crystal ponies'.

If you liked it, thanks!