“Is he awake?”

“He is now,” the stumpy blue ram replied, glancing at the figure within the pod. “His eyes are open. They’re not red anymore, probably a result of the restoration process.”

“Good. It seems we’ve managed to salvage what remains of my faithful student,” came the reply, her tone calm with some expectations.

The ram snorted, tapping the glass with one hoof. “However, I am not so sure if he will still be your faithful student. All that’s left is the broken body we pieced back together. His original soul has clearly departed and been replaced with… something new.”

“Hmm. That is… unfortunate,” the shadowy figure said, her voice echoing in the dimly lit chamber or maybe illuminating it. “It would’ve been ideal if his original soul remained. He’d have retained the knowledge to avoid repeating his past mistakes. Still, you’ve brought this fine stallion back from Tartarus, and for that, I am grateful.”

This figure, wreathed in shadow, began to take form: a towering silhouette of a mare, her outline glowing faintly pearlescent. Twin dots of light served as her eyes, and her mouth which was a jagged row of shifting white teeth moved as she spoke. Her voice carried a playful authority, underscored by an unyielding confidence.

“Well now, enough stalling. Let us see the results of our labor,” she said.

The clear coffin hissed and creaked as it opened, spilling viscous liquid onto the floor along with its occupant which was me. Gasping for air, I stumbled forward, my limbs heavy and unfamiliar. I tried to stand on two feet, a habit ingrained in me, only to collapse awkwardly. Drenched and disoriented, I blinked at the two figures before me.

My eyes properly aligned and looked upon the two entities that were overlooking my chamber. There was a large shadowy entity. The one who seemed to have managed to be behind my apparent return watched me with a proud grin, her features now clear: a tall pegasus unicorn of sorts with an imposing presence. The smaller, stocky blue ram beside her looked less impressed, a scowl creasing his face.

“Well,” the ram muttered, “this one’s either promising or a failure. Nonetheless, you still owe me, Lady Ombregiaria, for the time and resources I invested in reviving your so-called faithful student.”

The mare chuckled softly, her ethereal wings flaring slightly. “I don’t mind. Even if I must start over, it’s worth it to have my dear son back.”

“P-pardon?” I croaked, my voice cracking as I found it.

The two exchanged surprised glances before looking back at me. “What do you mean, ‘son’?” I asked, my deep stoic voice slowly becoming steadier now.

The mare’s grin widened. “Of course, you, my dear Sombra. Unless… you aren’t him. But even if you aren’t, it matters not—”

“Sombra?” I interrupted, confusion and disbelief lacing my tone.

Before she could respond, the ram cleared his throat. “Hold on. Before the two of you start throwing questions at each other, I’ll go first. Let’s get this out of the way.” He pointed a hoof at me. “You. Newly resurrected stallion in the room—do you even know who you are?”

“Who?” I asked, the word slipping out instinctively.

Before I could even reply the ram sighed. “That answers that. Clearly, the soul I pulled from the Abyss wasn’t his. But before we get into that, let’s start with the basics. Move your forelegs and hind legs. Make sure everything works. While you’re at it, tell me with all honesty. Is this the body you had before?”

I shifted my head faintly, still trying to process his words. Slowly, I began moving my limbs, rolling onto my stomach before attempting to rise. My movements were clumsy and shaky, my new body alien and uncooperative. I eventually managed to stand on all fours, though the sensation was unnervingly unfamiliar.

“Well, this is unexpected,” I muttered. “I… appear to be a horse.”

The alicorn snorted, releasing a playful raspberry.

“What?” I asked, glancing between them. “Is it something I said?”

“Definitely, my dear,” she replied, her grin widening. “Calling yourself a horse is... amusing. I never imagined my beloved student would say such a thing.”

“Isn’t that what you ar—” I began, but my mouth snapped shut as chains of shadow wrapped around it, silencing me as if her reply was done on instinct.

The mare’s form darkened, her playful tone still there but there’s some intimidation in it. “No, my dear student. We are ponies specifically of the umbrum kind. Horses are long extinct (maybe) and are just mere ancestors of our kind. We do not associate ourselves with such pri-mi-tive creatures.”

I nodded quickly, not daring to argue. The chains vanished, and I rubbed my muzzle with a hoof before speaking again. “No offense intended, Lady Ombregiaria. That is your name, correct?”

She nodded, her shadowy form lightening once more.

“However,” I continued, “why do you call me Sombra? And why ‘faithful student’? From what I can gather, I’ve been taken from somewhere and placed into this body of your supposed student.”

Ombregiaria stepped closer, her ghastly hoof reaching out to cup my cheek. Her cold touch was surprisingly gentle, her gaze despite looking like two large dots felt rather disturbing but with a touch of curiosity and interest.

“You haven’t told me your name yet, silly,” she said softly. “Until you do, I will continue to call you Sombra. But tell me, my dear, who are you? Or rather who were you?”

I hesitated, then took a steadying breath. “Well for starters, I have no intention of revealing my old name or rather my dead name,” I said firmly. “But I’ll tell you what I was. I was a human. A tall, bipedal creature with hands like an ape’s and legs to match. We’re mostly hairless, save for the hair on our heads and some body hair...”

Ombregiaria’s grin returned, and her eyes shone with interest as her dots suddenly became reflective for a moment. The ram beside her seemed equally intrigued, his brow furrowing as he muttered something under his breath.

“And now?” Ombregiaria poked with insistence to make me share.

I glanced down at my new body, my hooves firmly planted on the ground. “Now, it seems I am something else entirely.”

“Well, would you like to… Have. Them. Back?”

“Oh no,” Grogar groaned there’s part irritation and tiredness in it, topping it off with an ‘I Don’t Want Do Overtime’ sort of look. “Nononono…”

“Come now, Grogar,” Lady Ombregiaria teased, her voice taking on a lilting, almost sing-song quality. “Didn’t you say you had mastered and perfected that very technique to make it possible? However…” Her tone darkened suddenly, becoming ominous. The shadows around her twisted and turned a deep, unsettling black and red as her grin took on a menacing edge. “You’ll be following my lead.”

The atmosphere grew heavy with malice, but just as quickly, it shifted back. “Oops!” she said, her voice light again. She gave Grogar a sheepish smile. “Apologies, dear ibex.”

Grogar let out a frustrated snort, his cloven hooves scraping against the floor as he glared at her. “Alright alright, fine. I give in as long as you uphold your end of the bargain,” he hissed, his voice laced with some form of grudging resentment. He muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like a string of insults, but Ombregiaria merely shrugged it off with an amused smile.

“Should I be worried about this?” I asked with concern not for the ram but rather for myself.

“Don’t worry, my student,” Ombregiaria replied, her tone soothing and mixed with amusement. “After this, I’ll name you properly…”

“Sure,” I interjected, cutting her off. “But don’t expect me to call you mother. That title belongs to someone else from my previous life. How about…” I paused, thinking for a moment. “Mamita? Would that work for you?”

She tilted her head, considering the suggestion. “Mamita Ombregiaria…” she murmured. A sly smile spread across her face. “Personalized. Better than ‘Master,’ ‘Mother,’ or even ‘Queen.’ Very well. But let me be clear…”, as her form turned pale white and pitch black. “You and only you may call me this.”

“Alright,” I said with a slight nod. “Mamita Ombregiaria it is, then.”

“Now,” Grogar interrupts with the clearing of his throat with his sharp tone. “If everyone’s done with their sentimental nonsense, I will proceed with the spell. Lady Ombregiaria, give me the instructions for what this… creation… shall look like.”

“With pleasure,” she purred.

Grogar’s hooves began to glow and slammed them both on the floor, arcs of energy swirling around them before forming tendrils of purple light that reached out toward me. The tendrils or tentacles were agile, almost alive, and they moved with eerie precision as they closed in.

“I’ve read enough literature to know where this is going,” I muttered, more to myself than anyone else.

The tendrils enveloped me, wrapping tightly around my body like constricting vines. They clung to me, unyielding and oppressive. I couldn’t move. My breathing grew shallow, and I felt a suffocating pressure, as though the air itself was being pulled from my lungs.

I couldn’t hear their voices anymore. The world outside this strange chitinous covering faded away as agony exploded throughout my body. My pony frame twisted and stretched unnaturally. My hind legs were forcibly elongated, the bones snapping and reforming to accommodate the change. My forelegs were pulled taut, reshaping as if sculpted by invisible hands. I could feel my hooves retracting, the edges curling inward as new appendages fingers emerged from the shifting flesh. Nerves flared to life, muscles stretched and tore, and a pair of claws formed.

It was as though my body was being broken apart and rebuilt from the inside out, every nerve screaming in protest. I was drowning in pain, gasping for air that wouldn’t come. Darkness crept in at the edges of my vision, and I passed out then only to be jolted awake moments later by fresh waves of torment. Over and over, I was pulled between consciousness and oblivion, my body a battleground for the magic reshaping it.

Finally, it ended. The cocoon unraveled, and I crumpled to the ground, gasping for breath. My vision was blurred, but I could just make out Ombregiaria’s face. She was smiling down at me, her expression one of triumph.

“Now,” she disturbingly softly as if it were an achievement, “you shall be named Requiem. Rest now, my little Umbrum. Rest. Tomorrow is the start of your journey.”

Those were the last set of words I’ve heard before I drifted to unconsciousness.

Author's Note

Hey all. Clint here I remembered writing this and kept on writing this. Not sure why did I keep on writing this. Please double check if I ever had some grammar issues in this.

This fic is also experimental in the sense I tried changing the timelines and everything. Next chapter contains a certain blueberry flavored princess.