As he stepped out in the fading sunset, he had wondered so often who had been. He wasn’t himself anymore, with the flowing mane and aura. Nothing looked like himself anymore. The reflection he saw in the mirror had made him think of steel armor, heated and molded onto the stallion. The coal-black mane was flowing like the river, and the edges like tiny flames flickering and wavering.
Who had he been? And what had his world been like before? A smile, a laugh, or a tiny crystal statue. He had kept the one Luna sent to him on his desk drawer every day, longing to be who he had been before, who he was, before he became this monster.
Ponies thought of him like a monster, a plague. He didn’t even know himself anymore, only the stern voice in his head commanding him what to do. His limbs and horn did not listen to him anymore, rather the voice of the mare in his head. He had never heard such a sickly tone before, sarcastic and demanding and stern at the same time.
He didn’t want to listen, but he had to, because his limbs didn’t listen to him anymore.
He could form his own thoughts, but those had soon been taken away. The thoughts he had left were not very many. Most of them had involved Luna and his love for her.
He promised he would be there for her, no matter where, no matter when. He promised that he’d spend every night and day with her. He promised that his time and loyalty would be hers only. Yet he had broken each of the promises, more than just once. He swore his loyalty to her, yet his loyalty and actions were at the mercy of the mare’s voice in his mind.
When had this happened?
From birth, he knew he was no normal pony, no cutie mark, no talent, and no speech. His friend had left him, and somehow, the Lunar Princess, second to only the Solar Princess, had found her way to him.
How could he prove his love now? To die would be to break her, and each living day he would fear the voice’s commands.
He had nothing left, with only the few hours of peace at sunrise and sunset he had when the voice wasn’t as prominent, only mocking him for his inability to suffer and nothing else.
Yet, it was true.
He couldn’t deny it.
He was weak, and fragile, and incompetent. The voice had offered him advice, but had gradually grown to control him, to use his body as a way for its crimes. He had seen ponies he knew very well sent off to the war. He had seen ponies who were sobbing with their young hanging on to them suffering the same fate. He had nearly exhausted his powers to control them.
It was wrong, but he had never stopped it.
He couldn’t resist the voice, and his limbs did not move of their own accord. His magic was not his anymore, but belonging to the mare in his head and for her to use.
The blood on his hooves had been washed off, but to him, it would always be there.
The hate in his heart for many wanted to be erased, but the voice would not let him.
The tears, the anger, and the sadness had dulled the longing for his true love.
He whispered his name into the mirror, trying to find his own self.
“Sombra.”
All he could see was the monster he had become. A tyrant. The life he had no control over. The demon inside of him had been unleashed.
All he wanted was to be loved.
His youth had been destroyed by the angst, the depression, and the loneliness. His love had been destroyed by his tyranny. He had ruined everything he had. He couldn’t blame it on the voice, because he had invited the voice to help him, without foreseeing the consequences. In a way, it was his own fault.
He headed towards the mirror like pool. Framed with vines and curls of ivy, he thought it could really be a mirror, with the clear surface and reflection. He wished so badly that when he closed his eyes, and opened them again, Luna would be there, smiling and wrapping her hooves around him, or maybe just cannonballing into the water – something unladylike or rough, but it was just Luna. Love was the acceptance of who ponies truly were and embracing their own selves.
And yet, when he opened his eyes, the water was still clear like a mirror, and the water still.
His hopes had shattered, and his dream had dissolved. It would return just to haunt him again, but after all these years, he could handle it. If he could handle the cold and winds of the arctic, or the ear-splitting screeches mocking him, he could handle this.
But it had hurt more than anything else had ever hurt, for him.
Soon he would face her, no matter what, but each time he would turn and run.
He couldn’t be a coward. He was a king, a ruler, and a guide. He couldn’t be a coward, running and choosing to sacrifice others in the face of fear. What was more important fear was love.
Most ponies didn’t understand that.
Most ponies didn’t understand him.
Most ponies didn’t even like him.
He had not done anything harmful of his own accord, but the voice controlling him did.
He didn’t want to, but the voice had forced him.
Dearest Sombra, It mocked.
I hope you enjoy your days as much as I do, It had continued.
Just remember, your soul may be yours, but your powers and body are mine. You promised them to me. And I intend on you fulfilling it.
Sombra wanted to shake it away, wanting to tell it that he had already broken so many promises because of the voice.
He had never recalled anger like what he had been feeling right then.
With a startling cry, he threw his head against the concrete, before the voice had the chance to take control. Even when it did, the voice was panicking, and he was losing consciousness.
Silently, he said his goodbyes. At least he won’t harm Luna, his one and only love. His true love. The Lunar Princess.
~~~
Yet he awoke again.
He was lying, curled up on the concrete ground, the voice cackling inside.
He wished he had never agreed to the deal.
He had been so stupid. So naïve, so trusting.
The past would never come back. The present was a mess. The future was even darker.
The pond was still as silent as before. The only reflection left was his own.
As he wearily walked back into his study, he slumped down on his chair. He remembered the soft velvet cushions as they were, but they weren’t as comfortable. Nothing was comfortable now. The shelves were a mess again, and he wanted to find a certain article.
Digging through the messy shelves, he finally found his diary. A small book bound with silk, and filled with scattered notes and bits of paper falling out. Luna had given it to him as a gift.
She had signed the first page with her messy script and a poor drawing of the two of them in the pond. It was nothing compared to the works of many artists, but he cherished it because as far as he knew, Luna never drew. The messy text had read:
I’ll keep you heart,
If you’ll keep mine,
You will always be,
My one and only true love.
Luna was by means no excellent poet, but he cherished it, because every word she wrote had been true. True as the stars in the sky. True as the day and night.
He felt completely at loss.
How he wished that the times would go back…