Crystal Clarity

by daOtterGuy

Rating: everyone
Tags: King Sombra, Alternate Universe, Sad, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Length: 3337

Sombra has a plan.

In the early morning of Hearth's Warming Day, Sombra awakens.

Written for ZeroMonkey for Jinglemas 2021

Thanks to The Sleepless Beholder, Emotion Nexus, and Dewdrops on the Grass for prereading.

Published 2021-12-26 15:40:00 UTC
Last updated 2021-12-26 15:40:00 UTC

The Crystal Grown from the Geode

DING DONG.

Sombra turned from his work and looked at the clock as it set off its familiar chimes. It had struck midnight signifying the end of the day and beginning of the next. He stretched his back, wincing from the cracks and pops that resulted from the action.

He stepped back from his desk and wandered the room, letting his joints get used to the act of walking again, his long red cape trailing behind him.

A quick scan of his dwelling showed it to be as opulent as it's always been. A four-poster bed draped in velvet curtains, polished crystal floors, shelves of books, a walk-in closet of clothing for formal occasions, and a massive desk stacked with blueprints and reports from across the Empire.

Feeling out of sorts, he diverted his attention to look outside of the glass window that took up the entirety of one wall.

Before him was the vast expanse of the Crystal Empire. Districts of buildings made of faceted crystal expanded out from the palace in a star pattern and glittered in the moonlit snowy night.

It was a glorious horizon and one Sombra took pride in.

But it felt wrong.

The vision before him was at odds with the one in his head. He had never noticed before how the roofs of the buildings seemed to sag downward. How snow had piled up in the corners and flooded the street. How most of the streetlights that lined the crystal cobblestone roads were unlit.

A frown marred his face before he used his magic to cover the offending vista from his sight with a long set of velvet curtains.

As he trotted back to his desk, a wave of nausea overtook him. It was a sickly feeling that clung to his insides and roiled in his stomach. It caused his mind to become sluggish and he found it difficult to keep his eyes from drooping from a sudden burst of drowsiness.

He shook his head and looked over the blueprints on his desk without really registering what they were for. It was a project a long time in the making to deal with… something. His memory failed to come up with a reason for their existence, but it must have been important if he had been dealing with it for… for…

It didn’t matter.

A surge of magic from his horn grasped the plans and rolled them up into a tidy bundle. He then grasped his bedroom door with another surge of magic which caused said object to be blasted off its hinges and slam into the opposite wall.

It gave him pause. He hadn’t meant to do that. Another onset of exhaustion and nausea assailed him, pulling at the edges of his consciousness. He shook his head in a futile attempt to clear it and trotted out the door.

On his way out, he nodded to the guards standing by his door.

After a short trot, he stopped, turned around, and stood before one of the guards he had just passed.

The soldier before him was dressed in the crystal faceted armour of the military with a diamond breastplate and matching helmet. A sharpened halberd was held within his hoof and he — or she, Sombra couldn’t really tell — stared ahead unblinking.

Sombra waved his hooves in front of the guard’s face. He stuck his tongue out, wiggled his rear in their direction and even resorted to yelling loudly in their ear to break them of their stalwart stance.

He, or she, and their compatriot stood stock still, ignoring Sombra’s efforts.

A closer inspection confirmed that they were breathing, and therefore alive. One such observation was that he found it difficult to look into their eyes. They were coloured normally but for their glossiness and a ring of red around their iris. It gave Sombra the impression that they were aware but seemingly trapped.

Sombra convinced himself that the guards were simply doing their job and nothing foul was at hoof. The red ring was an odd reflection of the light emitted by the wall sconces.

Everything was normal.

“Good work, guards,” he said. “You have passed my test.” They didn’t acknowledge him. “Right, I’ll… be going… now”

He briskly trotted away as the guards continued to stare forward.

As Sombra made his way through the castle, things only proceeded to get stranger. The servants he passed were like the guards, performing their tasks without acknowledging him with the same glossy red-ringed eyes.

His castle was out of sorts. Entire passages were blocked off by rubble that shouldn’t have been there, decorations were missing where previously he had been sure they were there, and the scars of battle were ever-present in gashes on the wall or blackened smears on crystal.

To make things worse, the air felt stale, as if the castle had been closed off and not a single shred of fresh air had been allowed to pass through its hallowed halls.

It all only further amplified his growing sense of confusion. What had happened? Why was there evidence of a battle inside of the castle?

Why did he not remember it?

Nausea continued to sicken him, tiredness pulled at his mind urging him to sleep. Sombra couldn’t stop though. He wouldn’t be stopped. He was so close to his destination.

A right turn, one long corridor, a short flight of stairs, and he was there.

Before him were massive double doors leading to the most important chamber in the palace. An attempt at shoving the doors open proved futile as his strength had waned with his ability to think clearly. A frustrating endeavor for a crystal pony that was defined by strength equaling their earth pony counterparts in Equestria.

In lieu of brute force, he instead used his magic to grasp the handle of the door which caused it to snap off. A growl of frustration caused his horn to glow brighter and blast the doors open, slamming them into the walls on either side of the entryway.

With his illness taking a worse turn, he briskly trotted into the chamber and stood before the ornate pedestal of his desire.

The Crystal Heart.

It spun ethereal on the tip of a crystalline spike, pulsating a blueish white glow that represented the entirety of the Empire and its citizens. It’s very life essence. Now finally before the Heart with his blueprints firmly grasped within his magic, he was going to… to…

What was he going to do?

Wracking his brain for answers returned only the same cloying blanket of sleep that needled him at every turn. He couldn’t remember what he was there for, but, thankfully, he had the means to figure it out. He had not paid attention earlier, but now was the time to remind him of his study using the papers he had brought with him.

He unrolled the blueprint.

Then dropped it to the floor in shock.

It was horrifying, a spell that could only have been devised by the most monstrous of beings. It filled him with revulsion as it went against everything he stood for.

The plan he had been so engrossed in was a spell to use the life energy of his subjects to convert the Crystal Heart into a bomb. The damage it would cause would be catastrophic, untold casualties, an unprecedented tragedy.

Sombra paced before the Heart, adrenaline coursing through his veins, his heart pumping in tune with his panic. Yet still, he felt the threat of unconsciousness at the edge of his mind despite his heightened state.

How could he still be this tired? Why did he make plans for… this?

He stared up at the Heart and, in its reflection, he found someone unrecognizable.

A flowing mane like black smoke, a long red horn that pulsated crimson light, blood-red eyes wide in confusion. It was… someone else. Someone he didn’t know.

Wildly rotating in place, he tried to find this strange pony that was present with him only to be met with an empty room. He turned back to the reflection and, as he brought a hoof to his face, realized it was him.

This was how he looked.

It was wrong.

The nausea and tiredness came back with a vengeance nearly knocking him out cold. He staggered back, hit hard by the assault on his mind. As he did, memories of his past returned.

Things he had done. Things he hadn’t done.

He clutched his head as unbidden tears came to the corner of his eyes. All at once, he was drowned in the cries of his citizens as they were sent to fight pointless wars against Equestria.

How he had come to blows with Celestia and Luna.

How they had laid siege to his Empire.

How they were still there, just outside the barrier that protected him from them.

The reason why he needed a bomb. A powerful one.

The Empire was in a pointless, useless, war with a nation that had been nothing but kind to them. A trusted ally for centuries. They had helped him overthrow his father. A tyrant. A monster.

Clearly, the crystal that grows from the geode is no different.

Sombra couldn’t understand why he had done this. He felt like decisions had been made while he had been asleep. Like he was trapped in a nightmare that never ended. An observer to his own body.

He racked his brain to find the root cause. What had convinced him to commit such atrocities? For the sake of the Heart, he had promised never to indulge in his father’s taste for senseless war. These actions were so unlike his ideals, so against what he believed in.

A glance at the Heart gave him an idea. It was an ancient artifact that had been by his side for centuries of his artificially extended life. It sustained him. It was an extension of him.

Surely, it could help him now.

He leaned his head against the faceted surface of the slow spinning Heart with his eyes closed. All at once, he was brought back to the moment when the Heart had first accepted him as Emperor.

Promises made to be different. Promises to recover from the horrors committed by his father. Promises to abolish the slavery of the Empire’s citizens.

Attempts had been made to keep those promises. He had succeeded, but, as time was prone to do, the rot began to seep to the surface. Threats to his rule due to lack of confidence in his abilities, unrest amongst the disbelieving citizens, and a growing unease as the economy buckled under the weight of debt to Equestria spurred on by greedy nobles.

Sombra had tried as best he could, but he was only one pony.

One pony that couldn’t keep everything from falling apart when the Windigos had assaulted the Empire from the Deep North.

Desperation brought him to his father’s lab, and to his greatest work: a horn created from dark magic to grant a crystal pony the same might as an alicorn.

His people were dying, the Wingidos were close to winning, and when a Ruler is faced with the loss of everything, they tend to make poor decisions.

Sombra stepped away from the Crystal Heart. He felt the darkness at the edge of his consciousness and recognized it for what it was. A corruption that wished to gain power at any cost.

The second he let it control him, it would enact its plan. He had only this moment to stop it and not many options available to him.

From the deep recesses of his mind, he thought back to a moment when he spoke with Star Swirl about time spells. He had thought it foolish and only useful in the most direst of times.

It was now the direst of times.

“Why is it that the more you wish to be unlike your parents, the more you tend to end up becoming them anyways?” He mused aloud. “Captain!”

A ruby faceted crystal stallion entered through the still open entryway dressed in the armour of his station and a sword at his side. He trotted briskly towards Sombra and stopped a respectable distance away with a crisp salute awaiting his orders.

Sombra looked in the guard captain’s eyes and found the red ring he had expected. With his memories returned, he recognized it as a geas that allowed full control of a pony’s mind. One that he — the thing masquerading as him had done it, but that didn’t change who had cast the spell — had casted a year back to quell the rising rebellion against him.

A jolt of red magic from his horn dispelled it.

The captain blinked and widened his eyes as he took in who stood before him. In a swift motion honed from years of training, the pony unsheathed their sword from its scabbard using their mouth and brought the blade up against Sombra’s neck.

“Hello, Captain Swift, how are you?” Sombra asked in a conversational tone.

“I will feel better when you are dead, tyrant,” Swift answered with a snort, his teeth clenched on the hilt of his blade.

“Oh good, a biased opinion.” Sombra smiled. “Would you be willing to weigh in on a few thoughts I have?”

The Captain seemed perplexed. “What trick are you playing at?”

“One on myself.” Swift glared. “You have nothing to worry about. Yet. For now, I do simply require your input on a few things.”

“I don’t understand. What is your angle here?”

“There isn’t one, or at least one you would recognize. I simply wish to ask if you believe there is anything worth saving of the Empire.”

“Is this some kind of sick joke?” Swift growled.

“No, or at least, if it is, you aren’t the punchline. So, an answer, if I may have one?”

The Captain searched Sombra’s face looking for a ploy or some sort of catch to their conversation. Finding nothing but polite interest, he sheathed his sword in its scabbard, a scowl marring his face.

“The Empire itself is worth it,” Swift answered. “Its citizens, its buildings, and its culture.” He glared. “At least when it is not run by a monster.”

Sombra nodded. “I can agree with that. Now, what would you say if I told you that the Empire was going to be destroyed?”

Swift sucked in a breath with a hiss. “Then I would ask you to explain what you mean.”

“I devised a blueprint to turn the Crystal Heart into a bomb.” Swift reached for his sword again. “Mainly because there is nothing left to save.”

“What do you mean? What did you do?”

Sombra looked upon Swift with shame. “The Heart is weak. Decades of broken spirits from the Empire’s citizens have brought it to a state where it cannot keep up the protection necessary to allow the Empire to survive in the North. You can see it in how the snow piles up in the streets, how the lights won’t turn on.”

“Then fix it!”

“How?” Sombra tilted his head. “By removing the geas? Clearing out the snow? None of that will resolve the issue.” He shook his head. “No, between the war with the Windigos and Equestria, all the things I’ve done, it won’t help. The Heart requires love and optimism to power it. Only hate and pessimism can be bred from the Empire now.”

“T-that—” Swift stared at Sombra in horror. “There has to be something we could do! We can’t just give up and let everyone die!”

“Oh, perish the thought. I’m certainly not going to give up. I have a plan, but I just wanted to know if there was another option. Speaking of?” Sombra looked at Swift expectantly.

Swift met his look with one of panicked confusion. “What are you looking at me for? What do you want?”

“Apologies, I suppose I should be more direct.” Sombra coughed into a hoof to clear his throat. “Do you know of anything to fix our current predicament based on the knowledge you have?”

Finally understanding his request, Swift racked his brain for a potential solution. Regrettably, nothing came to mind. “No, I do not.”

Sombra nodded. “Then we go with my plan.”

As he allowed his plan to come to the forefront of his mind, he grimaced as the dark energy of his horn renewed its fervoured assault. It battered his weakened psyche and tried to overcome his will to come to the forefront of his very being.

“Are you alright?” Swift asked with a hint of concern colouring his voice.

“No, but my well-being is hardly worth caring about. Now, I have a spell that will hopefully save the Empire. It will simply put the entirety of the Empire away for a time.” Sombra began to make the necessary calculations to cast the spell in his mind.

“What do you mean?”

“Exactly as I said,” Sombra replied. “I shall banish the Empire from time, and then, hopefully, when the Empire returns after some hundred or so years, someone will have the means to charge the Crystal Heart once more thus saving the people.”

“Are you insane?!” Swift yelled. “You’ll kill—”

“Suspend,” Sombra corrected. “The citizenry will be suspended in time, safe and sound. When the Empire returns, they will be released just as they were, not a day older than now.” He tapped a hoof in thought before adding another layer to the spell. “Minus the geas as that simply won’t do.”

“And you think someone will just show up and solve all of our problems?”

“What other choice do we have?” Sombra finished off his final calculations and began to charge his horn. An ethereal red glow emanated from his horn. “This is the only option that will potentially save as many people as possible.”

Swift regarded Sombra with an unreadable expression. “Who are you?”

Sombra looked directly into Swift’s eyes. “A pony that made a horrible mistake.”

Swift was quiet for a moment as he mulled over his thoughts. “When I was younger, we had a King. He was adored for his wisdom and perseverance in the face of constant adversity. He looked out for us, he cared for us, and, when tough decisions needed to be made, he ensured that only he would face the consequences when possible.”

“He sounds wonderful,” Sombra replied.

“He was,” Swift agreed. “You remind me of him, despite you looking like the pony I’ve hated for over a decade.”

“I assure you that the pony you hate exists more than I do, and when we return that is who you will deal with.”

Swift regarded him with a look of reverence, unearned in Sombra’s opinion. “I believe it is Hearth’s Warming, unless my prior geas has ruined my ability to tell time?”

“It is,” Sombra replied as the red glow transitioned to a white-ish blue that matched the increasing glow pulsating from the Crystal Heart.

He bowed. “Merry Hearth’s Warming, my King.”

Sombra felt a tear go down his face. “I have a request, Captain Swift. To be fulfilled on our return in the future.”

“Anything,” Swift replied.

“Kill me.”

“It will be done,” Swift replied with no hesitation.

Sombra smiled. “Thank you, Captain.”

He turned away from Swift and peered into the Crystal Heart. Inside he was gifted with a vision of the day he had taken his vows as Ruler of the Empire. That naive pony that thought he could fix everything.

It was a sweet memory for his final moments.

“I can still live up to that ideal,” Sombra whispered to himself as tears trailed down his face. “I will live up to that ideal.”

The spell was complete, ready to cast. Through the tears, the barrage of hate that assailed his mind, the hope, and everything in between, Sombra smiled.

He cast the spell.

Then Sombra died.