Chapters Umber ducked out of the rain, tugging his hood away--taking a moment to free his horn from the sopping-wet, tangled cloth. It was a foul day in Canterlot; the pegasi had been running behind schedule, and their priorities were focused in Ponyville and the surrounding farmland anyway. Every day it rains in Canterlot, he reminded himself, was a day for which rain was necessary .
It did little to lift his spirits.
"Good afternoon, miss Trance."
"Good morning , mister Smoke."
"Is it morning? I couldn't tell. Damned cloud cover."
"Every day it rains in Canterlot is a day for which rain is necessary, mister Smoke."
"Don't I know it," he harrumphed, as he walked upstairs to his office. He had been working for the Canterlot Institute of Magic for years now, mostly providing an extra horn for other ponies' research projects while he awaited approval for his own. Today, however, his project was approved. As he slipped into the 'cozy', 'quaint' little excuse for an office, he reached under his desk and withdrew a musty, ill-used tome, blowing the dust off the cover:
ACANUM SOMBRAN,
Beneath the title was the hoof-written signature of one Sombra, who later became the infamous king of the Crystal Empire.
"I shall understand you," Umber muttered to himself, "and you shall be no threat to me."
The basics of Shadow Magic, or Sombran Magic, were well known by the time Umber picked up this book. Everypony knew the signs: Sombran mages were quick to anger, had glowing eyes, and were often obsessed with strength above all else. They appear physically frail, and it is often claimed that the Sombran magics consume the body as well as the soul. It has been observed--most recently by Twilight Sparkle herself--that Sombran magic is easier to cast when one is frustrated or angry.
This is merely the tip of the iceberg, the sliver of a crescent moon peeking out, leaving all of the nightmarish monsters hidden in the black. There are so many more things left unknown--the extent of a Sombran mage's control over others, the ways in which a Sombran mage gains power, whether the glowing eyes will only appear after casting or are a permanent symptom...
Umber's research project is dangerous. It is dangerous by virtue of a simple fact: He is going to learn as much Sombran magic as he can, in order to understand exactly what makes it tick.
Two weeks prior.
"...Umber," the Princess said. Umber could never quite get used to the way Celestia always referred to ponies by their first name. It was unnerving enough to be called before the Princess for this anyway; while he had expected his project to face a fair amount of friction, he had not expected it to go all the way to the rulers of Equestria.
"Umber, my little pony, I hope you understand why I hesitate to approve this."
"Why we both hesitate," Luna added. "Shadow magic is no mere toy to trifle with. Myself and my dear sister have used it before--"
What? The Princesses, using forbidden magic?
"--but only in dire circumstances, and we are only able to control it because of the bonds of friendship--"
"The friendships that keep us happy and healthy," Celestia concludes. "Umber, we are able to use Sombran magic safely because of the magic of friendship. Twilight is able to use Sombran magic safely because she is the Princess of friendship. And you..."
She sighs. "Umber, how often do you spend time with other ponies? Not at work."
Umber closes his mouth, frowning. If he's not allowed to count time spent at work, then the number drops to...zero.
"...Princesses...do you not understand?" He glances from one to the other, as they in turn glance between themselves. "It is because I have no friends that I am able to study this magic. With all due respect, neither you nor Twilight can truly delve into Sombran magic, because you are anchored by the relationships you have--and that anchor prevents you from reaching the depths that Sombra reached."
There is a pause. Celestia and Luna look to each other.
"We must convene," Celestia says softly.
"Dear sister, you cannot possibly be considering--"
"We must convene ," Celestia says, a little louder this time. "Umber, you may go. We will send a letter when we reach a decision."
Two weeks later, the letter arrived in Umber's personal mailbox. Not his inbox, at his desk in the Canterlot Institute of Magic, but at his home. It is, perhaps, a sign from the Princesses: We will allow this, and we will know if you step out of line.
The first and most important step is confirming what one already knows.
Umber takes a deep breath. He has a number of thaumometers--electro-mechanical devices, with a ream of paper and a little quill wiggling back and forth--set to record his magical signature. He would spring for the all-electric version, but it won't do him any good. It would display the results in glorious color, overlaid on an image of him, but it would not be able to record it.
His horn sparks--at first a deep purple, then with an angry acidic green. He grunts softly. Even for a unicorn with no friends and few acquaintances, charging his horn with Sombran magic is difficult at first. He begins to worry that he will not fully charge his horn, and in that exact moment his horn surges. A nearby stack of papers suddenly flies into the air, scattering around his office; the thaumometers jolt and squeak as they record the sudden shift in power; and he yelps as he scrambles to sort the memos from the letters.
The second time, it happens faster. The third time, he is able to focus it into a gemstone he purchased for the sole purpose of focusing and containing this power while he studies it; the angry hues of green and purple bounce rapidly within the ruby, making it flash and hum.
"...interesting." He frowns, tapping the thaumometer. It registers only the static thaumic interference. It is evident that standard equipment does not even register shadow magic. He will need specialty equipment.
"I need a wide-band thaumometer," he says to the artificer. He does not remember her name. He does not care; she's only useful if she can wrap her head around what he needs.
"How wide?"
"I need to hit extra-low frequencies."
"The stuff I sold you the other day should read down to the low reds." Unicorn magic is known to have a 'natural' frequency, which determines its color, thus the use of color to classify it.
"It is not enough," he replies. He looks her dead in the eyes, and waits for her to blink.
"...Your little project," she mutters. "They actually said yes? They actually, really said yes to that?"
"It went all the way up to the Princesses."
"And they said yes !?"
"And now I have made my first discovery. Shadow magic oscillates at a frequency that your thaumometers cannot read."
He does not know her name, but he does know what makes her tick. She loves a challenge, and it took only a slight change of intonation to make this sound like a challenge. She grins. "Give me a day and I'll make one that can."
"I would have preferred a paper tape model."
"Well, now you have me to record the results."
Umber rolls his eyes as the artificer mare adjusts the lenses on her contraption.
"Okay, fire it up," she says, and it only takes a moment for him to light his horn. She gasps softly. "I'm seeing a lot of sub-kilo noise."
"Less than a kilo-Shine?"
"Yeah, around the 200 to 300 shine range."
Umber extinguishes his horn, wincing as the magic rings in his ears. There was a lot more energy in his horn than he had expected. "How much?"
"Upwards of 1500 Bells of output. There were some harmonies in the green and purple range, but almost all of it was sub-red."
"That amount of output, just from lighting my horn?"
"We can catch it in a prism if you want to look."
He turns to the gemstone he bought earlier--and squints. "Check the gem, please."
"What, did you cast at it earlier?"
"Yesterday."
"There's no way it held that energy for--" But she cuts herself short as she aims the thuamometer. Clear as day, on the viewing screen, is a spike of ultra-low-frequency magic--so deep below red that it loops around into the purple. It's not quite as powerful as it was coming direct from Umber's horn, but it's unmistakeable.
"Incredible," Umber mutters. "Absolutely incredible."
Careful introspection is key to magical theory. Any good mage will tell you this: you cannot understand your spellcasting unless you understand yourself.
Umber is not good at it. But he tries.
And even Umber can tell that the spells are getting easier as he gets frustrated. It almost draws him in, as if the spell teases him before stepping out of the way to reveal the results.
He quickly learns that levitation does not exist within Sombran magic, not as most ponies know it. He can apply force, certainly, but when he surrounds an object with Sombran magic, it usually does not last long. He thanks his lucky stars that the artificer mare wasn't around when he disintegrated a whole stack of papers, lest she take out a restraining order for the sake of her thaumometers.
It takes two whole days for him to learn how to hold an object this way. It's quite impractical to begin with, and his instruments record an absurd amount of waste energy as he casts. He notes this down, methodical, neat and tidy in the little pleather notebook that he keeps in his saddlebags at all times. It's the only way he remembers to track these sorts of things.
"How's it coming along?" the artificer mare asks.
"Terribly. Why did you sit here?"
"You looked lonely." She slides her tray next to his, and scoots a little closer.
"That is intentional. According to The Book, this sort of magic works best when one is alone." He had taken to not naming the book out loud, as it had obvious ties to one of the worst villains in Equestrian history. "On top of that, I rather like being alone."
"I'm sure you just haven't met someone you get along with," she says with a neat little smile, as she digs into her lettuce wrap.
"Exactly. I have never met someone I have gotten along with, and the chance of you being the first--"
"Slim to none, I know. But you have nothing to lose and everything to gain. My name's Copper Sunrise."
It is not long before Umber realizes that Sombran magic is not suited to nuance or care. According to the Arcanum Sombran , the purpose of magic is power, and therefore the only consideration is power. As such, concepts like "pacing yourself" and "not destroying your office" mean nothing.
It doesn't help that many of the spells contained within the tome are various forms of coercion, torture, and mind control. Obviously, Umber cannot practice these on his new 'friend', nor will he perform them on himself, so for now he is limited to basic experimentation. He has to learn the very basics of magic, all over again.
It frustrates him to no end, but he is nothing if not persistent. And besides, with each failure, he can feel the power creeping closer. Umber is no fool, even if he is not particularly self-aware. Between records of Sombra's temperament, Twilight's notes on her own brief experience with Sombran magic, and his own experiments, Umber can be absolutely certain: rage fuels Sombran magic just as friendship fuels normal magic.
Special mention must be made of the spells made for dueling. Modern magical duels, as most unicorns know, consist primarily of contests of skill; direct combat is unheard of, and even shows of force are rare. Most modern duels are primarily centered around alteration and transformation, as established by Marlin the Blue in the year 600 Anno Luna (literally "after moon", or after Luna's banishment).
The spells contained under the 'dueling' chapter of Arcanum Sombran are not made for such contests. They would, in the modern parlance, be called 'self-defense' spells. Umber would hardly consider them 'defense' at all, unless you consider a gout of unholy flame part of a good defense.
Of particular note is the spells created for horn-to-horn combat. Such fights were rare even before Marlin codified the modern duelist's rules, and were really only conducted within Unicorn high society. Rooted in the ancient, pre-Hearth times, such duels took place entirely within the minds of the duelists--a direct contest of wills, where one's blade is wrought from one's thoughts. Umber could not contain his excitement, despite himself; the magics contained in this subsection were easily dangerous if practiced against another mage, but he could prepare and cast them without an opponent. Finally, something to get his teeth into.
He laid the book on his desk, and used a paperweight to hold it on the key page of the spell. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and slowly--carefully--charged his horn...
"Hello there."
Umber opened his eyes. The office was gone; in its place were crystalline walls, at once perfectly dark and perfectly clear. Before him, there was an amorphous form--blacker than black, it crackled with purples and greens. It had not yet taken shape, did not yet have a mouth, and yet it was talking to him.
"...Well? You ain't mute, are ya?" It jiggled vaguely.
"No, no. I'm just--surprised. That's all." Umber stood up--he didn't remember sitting down. "Where is this? My mind?"
"Yep. A special little place in your head, that you just made."
"And you are?"
"Hey, I'm not done yet. You didn't finish making me." It jiggled again. "You've gotta figure the details out yourself."
"Hm." Umber tapped his chin. "I may be a bit. Names never came easily to me."
"What about 'Faust'?" the figure suggested.
"Faust? What kind of name is that ?"
"An old classic. Never mind me."
"Any other suggestions?" Umber scowled, and the figure jiggled again, laughing.
"Hohohoh, man . We're gonna get along just fine . How about Doppel?"
"Doppel...Doppel...yes, that works. Very well, Doppel. What form would you like?"
"I rather like yours ." Before Umber's eyes, the figure shifted and flashed--until it became a mirror of himself! Doppel's eyes flashed green, and in place of his cutie mark was an angry purple gash, like an open wound. "Don't you worry--I'm not gonna hurt ya. In fact, I can answer some of your questions, if you like..."
"How's it comin' along?" the mare said. Copper . Yes, her name was Copper. Copper Sunrise.
"Decently," Umber muttered, scooping up a forkful of salad. You look nice today . Umber cursed under his breath--Doppel needed to learn its place. Flirting was off the table. Just looking out for your best interests, boss , it hummed as it scurried into the back of his mind.
"Something bothering ya?"
"Nothing. It's nothing."
"All right, then. You get to anything interesting yet?" She scooted up next to him, and he scooted a little further away.
"Nothing too important," he said. "Just some old dueling techniques. Nothing I can apply safely."
"Maybe you could take it to the gym? There's a self-defense teacher who runs a class there, I bet he'd let you borrow some equipment. He might even let you do demonstrations!"
"I don't want to do demonstrations ," he said through gritted teeth. "But a practice dummy or two would be nice."
"There ya go."
Umber paced in his office, mumbling under his breath. Doppel had leapt out of his head and into his vision--sitting idly on the windowsill, kicking his hooves.
"Are you some sort of spirit?" Umber took a seat in his comfiest (read: only) office chair, and steepled his hooves.
"Relax, boss. I can't manifest physically. I'm all in your head!"
"Fantastic," Umber growled. "And I'm stuck with you?"
"There's a banishment spell, but I ain't tellin' you where it is."
"Of course you won't."
"What did you expect? Rule number one, Umber. Always look out for Number One . That's yourself, in case ya didn't know."
"Such a helpful creature."
"Hey, I can be helpful. You hardly need to maintain me at all, right?"
Umber frowned. It was true--he hadn't felt the drain on his will that most psychic manifestations required. "Right," he conceded.
"So if you ever get into a horn duel, you'll have me backin' you up. That's what the spell was for , right? If I can't even do that, then I'd get banished as soon as I show up."
"...you have a point. Unfortunately, horn duels are no longer legal."
"What? What about trial by combat?"
"Outlawed within the first year of the Sisters' reign."
"Don't tell me you don't even have to fight bandits..."
"In what world would I have to fight bandits?"
"This is Canterlot, right?"
"Yes. Canterlot, capital of Equestria, under the rule of her majesties Celestia and Luna--"
"Wait, wait. Equestria ? What year is it?"
"1002 AL."
"Ayy Ell?"
Umber rolled his eyes. "One thousand and two years after Luna's banishment to the Moon."
"You're tellin' me that the little pipsqueak got herself banished ?"
"She got better," Umber said with a shrug.
"Night's embrace, buddy. I thought you'd be the one with all the questions."