The soft chilled breeze carried the falling snowflakes from the ash grey sky into the never-ending white ground. Each snowflake danced in the wind was the breeze guided them to their resting place with their cold kin. But some snowflakes were not allowed to join the silent ranks. Instead they landed into a black clothed that protected its owner from the elements. These sad few who landed on the cloth melted away from the body heat, never to join their generational pile.
The figure’s clothed hood illuminated in a teal light that reflected onto the snow. Through telekinetic magic the hood slowly lowered down. Teal sparks of pure magic crackled off in different directions of a broken horn.
Tempest Shadow stood still in white landscape as she gazed out. She knew she was the only pony out in this cold tundra for miles. So what did she hear? Her careful examination lead to no found souls in the expanding white.
Tempest came to terms in her mind that she merely misheard her own hoof step in the snow as a voice. A silly delusion in her own senses she thought. How would Twilight think of her right now.
She started to regain her momentum to continue on in the pilling snow. After her first step she heard it again.
It was a old voice that was dried in a summer sun. The word it spoke was simple to say yet it still croaked on its single syllable. The voice called out "Come"
Tempest's head snapped in the direction she heard the voice from. She knew this time it wasn't a mere delusion or trick of the mind. But something real.
Yet when she looked in the way of the voice nothing stood there. There was no tall mound for anything to hid around either. Just flat snow a knee height.
Her broken horn crackled with sparks once again. A patch of white snow shifted to a teal and was levitated away behind Tempest. Slowly she dug with her magic through the snow, she was determined to find what is was that called out to her.
After clearing a patch of snow to hoof height Tempest found a small black point that stuck out of the snow. She carefully cleared out the remaining snow around it.
Laid on the frozen dirt was a obsidian black crystal. Its shape was that of a crescent, with one side fine worked into a perfect point but the other end broken off from its other half. There seemed to be no other part to complete it.
Tempest staired at the crystal with wonder on what is was, how it got there, and where its other part was. It was a fine cut crystal and to leave it would be a waste. So a thought popped in her head. She was sent by Twilight to retrieve a artifact from a Yak village ten miles away. So what would one souvenir hurt.
With one hoof she slowly reached out to the crystal to retrieve it. As she did the crystal glowed a fierce amber red and although it didn't have a mouth to speak from it still said "Come closer"
Tempest's hoof reeled back to herself. From that instant she knew this wasn't an ordinary crystal, this was something far from ordinary. Although she wanted to keep her thought quiet she still blurted out "What?'
"Not what, but who" the crystal croaked. With each work it 'spoke' its amber glow would change in brightness. As if to show its verbal ability.
Tempest heisted to ask the crystal its own question. From her time with Twilight's fetch quests and the Strom King's diabolical creations. Tempest has dealt with a few sentient items before. And with these items there were certain rules you'd have to follow in order to make sure they would cause misfortune on you. Yet Tempest was still intrigued in what this crystal was, or 'who' it is.
"Find then, who are you" Tempest asked the crystal. She knew with sentient items you have to take charge to show who's the boss. And a broken crystal wasn't going to push her around.
"I am a thrice dead king. Ruler of nations. Banished from his righter throne. And now buried in a cold wasteland to spend my eternity." the crystal spoke with a mournful tone.
"Then what do you ask me to 'come' to you thrice dead king' Tempest asked as her eyes narrowed at the crystal. Something felt off by the response that was given. Sentient items do have personality, but they never have a history.
"I only ask of you to come to me to hear an offer I have" the crystal answered
"Then what is this offer you have"
"I can see your broken horn," - Tempest eyes widen from those words. She knew sentient items can hear, but none she knew could ever see - "And this horn of mine is broken as well. If you were to unite our broken parts, I can promise you untold powers."
Tempest was frozen from the words the 'horn' had spoken. The item she thought was a crystal the whole time turned out to be a horn. A broken horn, a part that was important to a unicorn. A part that she was missing. Her thoughts trailed of for a few moments. Light snow now began to cover the horn on its exposed side to the sky. She finally can to the realization to mush time had past and she need to respond. "Your name, what is it. Tempest said as she regained her composure.
"May name is old and dead. One that no creature in this land remembers or speaks of."
"But names have power in this land. And I would expect a thrice dead kings name to hold the most. Possible even more that the Sisters." Tempest said. It was bait to lure more out of the horn. If she could gain a small grasp of who this was, then made she would be coming back home with an even greater souvenir for Twilight.
The horn contemplated Tempest lure. After a moment it spoke "Names do have power, such that of the Sisters. As well to that of the Storm Lord I would expect."
"The Storn Lord is no more!" Tempest snapped at the horn
"Oh, so you knew of the Storm Lord"
Tempest thought of her next answer. If the horn knew the Storm Lord, then how was there relation. Is that was broken the horn from its body. And more importantly would the horn want revenge for an already dead tyrant. "And so what if I did?"
"Then you knew of a false king who knew nothing of power"
"So you're saying you have more power than a dead tyrant"
"More than enough to be a thrice dead king"
The snow fall began to quicken. Tempest knew that she need to start her movement again to not be caught in a bad storm. Yet there was something from this horn that she wanted. Something she could not truly explain in her head. "Well then thrice dead king, if you are unwilling to tell me your name I see no need to take you with me."
"Yet you want to" the horn said. Although is had no face Tempest felt a wide sly grin mock here with those words.
"It would be nice to have company in this cold tundra"
"Then take me"
Tempest knew that it was a bad idea. But surely a prize of a 'thrice dead king' in a broken horn was something nopony could pass on. And if she was to take the worn with her wrapped in a cloth. That would mean she wasn't touching it then. So he thought as he started to walk off in the snow, How Bad could a broken horn be?