The door was gone, torn off its metal hinges, but he paid no mind to that. In fact, when Corvo saw the carved figure of a tiny king piece laying stone-still on a white-sheeted bed, and after he greedily took hold of it, his eyes had completely swept by a much larger figure right there in the corner of the room.
For the moment Corvo forgot that he had stopped time (which places tremendous amounts of stress on the body if held for longer than, say, thirty seconds), and observed the grim sight he missed.
A stallion, it looked to be, was laying flat on the wall, as though gravity had turned sideways. His neck was stretched, hanging his sunken face down onto his chest. He must have had quite the life under his belt: grey hair, apparently what survived on his face from age, covered his cheeks, much like sideburns. A black capotain hat rested directly below him. Upon closer inspection revealed a rough piece of rope tight round his neck, which extended through a cut-out hole in the ceiling.
Suicide? came to Corvo as he looked the dead pony up and down. Who is this, how did he hang himself, and when? I doubt it could have been any earlier than last week. Did Sombra do this? But why does it matter? However, a most curious effect was produced on his considerations after having stumbled upon this incident. He mechanically bent down to pick up the hat, and was surprised to find a note under it. He unfolded the paper and read it hastily:
Mine own life cannot beest w'rth t. Anon t's eith'r me 'r the King. T's the King. Thou art nothing who is't doth take the dark charm... So is the endeth.
While Corvo had been reading he gradually rose to full height, as a change came over his face. His only regret right now was not having studied Old English more in-depth when he was younger. Or was it contemporary English? Or something else he had forgotten? In any case, what he took from the letter was a blackmailed suicide, most likely, and definitely of the recent, but the whole motive seemed very distraught. That he couldn't figure out, nor did he have the time, as right when he was about to read it again his chest pulsed with a severe pain, and his entire body felt like it was burning. He dropped the letter and, gripping the chess piece, he teleported down the hall and into the first floor once again, all in a blind and fluid motion, without thinking about anything else.
He fidgeted back into his seat, as though he was about to act violently, and deactivated his scorching Mark. All at once when time resumed he inhaled loudly; for the first quarter of a second he could have sworn the world went by twice as fast than normal.
"—nd hocus pocus!" Sombra went on in his frenzied state, but shock was plastered on his face when Corvo quite harshly slammed the king right on its empty square. He was breathing heavily, his eyes twitched—looked to be on the verge of bloodshot—but he acted as though nothing had happened.
"Shall we weave to it?" he said in a deliberately pedantic voice.
What the—!" Sombra sputtered, not understanding Corvo's current position. At first he was in alarm, but his expression slowly swayed to a half-senseless grin. "W-ell—eh—why, damn—ha, ha, took me a bit to catch all that. I see you're bragging up a full team now. Heh, good." His eyes glowed mysteriously, he practically had quieted down, noticing nothing else but what they had started off with: the chess board. "So then, you make the initial move."
"Who was that pony?" said Corvo, still recovering from his exhaustion. He placed a pawn two paces ahead.
"I... huh? What pony?" said Sombra, genuinely taken aback this time, like a drunk who grew sober in an instant. "What are you talking about?"
Corvo stared hard at Sombra with distrustful eyes, reflecting his own confusion, unsure of what to respond with; but he passed from confusion to uncontrollable contempt, growing quite angry with him already. "The stallion upstairs, you damned lunatic! The old dog who was tossed under a rope."
"The rope? What are you... what... oh! Yes, yes, yes, yes!" cried Sombra as it all came to him. It seemed that, for a second, he sincerely had completely forgotten about that ordeal. "That 'old dog' as you called him, of course!" He slapped himself on the forehead. "The old-timer, that's him. Heh, heh," he once again delved into a sinister laughter, finally having taken the action of moving his own piece. "Pinned there like a, well, like a pin doll! I informed him of the specificities. Happened this night, believe it or not."
"I thought so, but what do you mean by specificities?" Corvo moved his knight, and for the rest of their long and, as is to be expected, diminishing conversation they resumed their play; and this all happened very lightly, without much mind put into the moves. I won't recount each and every move they made, as that would be unnecessary, although I might just bring up the most vital moments of the game, such as all the checks, the corner tactics, the taunts, and even the imminent checkmate, which I think there is one if I remember correctly.
"Well, it's of no consequence really, but if you want to know, it's when I arrived at this rock farm," said Sombra. His face was suddenly solemn and impressive, which gave him a positively malignant look. "I was in that level of preparation where I needed a place to hang around, any place would do. Came right by this house, thinking: 'Well, it could be worse.' It c-oul-d be worse! Heh, heh. That old dog—his entire family had left. No idea what he was still doing here. But when he saw me he immediately wanted to leave. I calmed his spirits, naturally, and we talked for who knows how long... ten minutes? Eh, whatever. And I, in a mathematically calm manner (that's how calm I was: it's on the level of mathematical calculation!), informed the dog that he should stay, and stay forever, and the rest is history. Didn't take much convincing on my part! The dog got so depressed he straight-off hanged himself," he added with a certain nonchalance. "I supplied the rope, and I supplied the idea. Do you understand now? Understand anything special?"
"Nothing special, save one little remark," replied Corvo at once. "You supplied him with the idea—did I get that right? Well, so you told that pony to kick the bucket? And he did it, just like that?"
"You'd be very surprised with how easy it is to turn a pony's heart cold. I laugh in mockery when I'm told that ponies love life. A wild notion, but one that's, of course, a characteristic feature, indirectly mediated by Princess Celestia."
"So you declare in argument that there is no value to life," retorted Corvo, firm in his wording. "Rather to the point, but I must stand on the opposition. Why are you doing all of this? Why brew up that deadly smoke, why kill ponies in the hundreds of thousands, why threaten to destroy my world as well? Feel free to correct me if I am way off base, but you spout off a lot of histrionics; nothing you say sounds logical."
"And what are you supposed to be: the arbiter of logic?" reproached Sombra while laughing his prolonged, impudent chuckle, looking boldly into Corvo's face. "Didn't we dispute this already? I think we did, didn't we? Well, you observed that I wanted to be the last pony alive when everypony else was dead."
"I absolutely and certainly cannot accept that."
"What is it you 'cannot'?—that you absolutely and certainly 'cannot'?"
"You yourself declared that it was an outright lie," said Corvo bitterly, who at this point was starting to act beyond of style. "You devil. Why not wander back to the darkness that initially spawned you!"
"Devil!" cried Sombra. "Why, oh why, Corvo, must you go and offend me like that? See, the things you call me! And I... eh—forget all that. Allow me, Corvo, though I'm a buffoon and I play the buffoon, yet I'm the character of honour, I want to speak my mind. It's true, I'm the soul of honour, while you're nothing but wounded vanity. Don't deny it! Maybe you came here to speak your mind, but for now allow me to speak mine."
"Maybe I came here to speak my mind?" echoed Corvo, which was a superb catch on his part, knowing exactly where the weak spots were. "So you really do not, in fact, know why I have come."
"Come on, go easy on me," said Sombra in an exhausted and caustic voice. "What do you want? Let's not forget you came looking for me, it wasn't the other way around."
"I was looking for a way to stop you and your evil plan."
"Tut—tut—tut! Sanctimoniousness and stock phrases! You're throwing down an old gesture surrounded by old phrases. Put a stop to me and 'my evil plan,' eh?"
Is he really going to underestimate me like that? thought Corvo. So be it, you miserable fool. This will be easier than I thought. "You mentioned back in Vanhoover that you lie to end all lies, and you do so to study the consequences of our actions. What do you mean by that? Why not elaborate since we're here?"
"I could tell it to you how it's supposed to be, get to the gist, but why not I talk about some past details first? Did you read the stories? A thousand years ago I undertook the Crystal Empire—out of passion—but Celestia and Luna came to the rescue. They locked me in a state of suspended animation within the glaciers for one thousand years. How was I meant to react to that?"
"Wait, wait, hold on," hurried in Corvo. "You undertook the Crystal Empire out of passion? How do you mean: out of passion?"
"For pity's sake, everything!" erupted Sombra with the most extraordinary feeling. "The Crystal Empire has played a great part in my life! It's cost me many bitter tears! It cursed me, calumniated me to the bone, spread stories about me all over the place! It's formed me, my very core, everything, everything! Ha, ha, what isn't out of passion?"
It must be noted that the Crystal Empire never had played any great part in his life, and he never had shed a bitter tear owing to it. The truth is that he never once cared for the place, it wasn't even an active goal in his mind to destroy it; the Crystal Empire's takeover a millennium back was propagated by sheer coincidence, namely, by his uncontrollable need to spread suffering to others and the Crystal Empire's proximity when he had these feelings. But he was so carried away by his pitiful self that he was for one moment almost believing it himself. He was so touched he was almost weeping. But at that very instant, he felt that it was time to draw back.
"Heh, I'll repeat, it was my fit of passion that compelled me to enslave the Crystal ponies."
"What the hell did you say!" Corvo snapped sullenly. "How can something as ridiculous as a 'fit of passion' come from your mouth? Are you trying to make me laugh?"
"So now it's your turn to take offence?" said Sombra shrilly, for some reason becoming extremely satisfied with himself. "Tut—tut! A drop of cognac or, in your case, whiskey would be nice to lower the tension."
But Corvo made no response.
"Hmm, listen, my dear, do you ever stop to question the why's, not the how's? I'm no scientist, at least not predominantly, but I know a thing or three about neuropsychology and, more practically, neurochemistry. What compelled me to beat down on the Crystal ponies and wage war against the princesses? Beyond the hysterics and the rationalizations, what drives us to do what we do everyday? Just what made me who I am? I won't go too far back and discuss my earliest memories, but it was the transmitters, exactly the transmitters!"
"Transmitters? You mean like brain signals?"
"Yes, that. I've come to a revelation: one thousand years ago, when I took it upon myself to dominate the Crystal ponies with my dark magic—and they never expected a thing!—when I laid out the entirety of my plans, when I controlled my subordinates, even which directions I looked and what food I ate, it was all mediated by my transmitters. I look to the right because, right in that moment, the transmitter relating to the muscles in my eyes which allow me to turn to the right activate, and only then. When I thought up of which spell to use on the ponies, and decided on a spell, the transmitter relating to said spell just so happened to race into my conscious before all the others. Just to expand: I know hundreds of spells, but when preparing my plan, most of the transmitters relating to all of those spells didn't wake up immediately, and so I couldn't choose them, even if I knew them, how to cast them. Our transmitters do everything, just about everything, for us in the most technical fashion: where we walk, what we say, the manner in which we map out our day—so what's there to feel sorry for? Why is there so much controversy revolving believing? Proofs are no help to believing, especially material proofs. Princess Celestia believed Princess Twilight would defeat me back then in the Crystal Empire, not because she's a hardcore rationalist who could only see the plausibility of my defeat, but because she wanted to believe. What does that mean: to believe? I might just play the contrarian because that's what the opposition does, because my transmitter for it overshadows all other transmitters. I'm a realist, but not a materialist. Heh, heh!"
"Why are you talking nonsense again?" broke from Corvo wearily. "None of that is original. The argument about the transmitters—I have heard that one before. It was the lecture given by a friend of mine this March."
"I'm glad we can be so informal with each other," said Sombra heartily.
"You damned fool! Now I remember: you took those exact same words from him, from Professor Edwin Arbmos. He spoke at length about how our brain chemistry is theoretically predictable. What, were you present during his lecture? I already know you snuck into my world for two years, but I think you were following me, too. Do you suppose I should stand on ceremony with you for discussing transmitters? None of what you said is provable. Are you going to go off on philosophy again? If you cannot say something concrete, then do not bother; talk of something amusing instead. Why not talk gossip?"
"Well, maybe not gossip, but close enough. I'm listening to you, and I've begun to take notice that you really have considered talking to me sincerely. Right here, when I stay with you from time to time, my life gains a kind of reality and that’s what I like most of all. You're treating this conversation like something very real, and that puts a smile on my face. I really do care."
"What else am I to do but converse with you sincerely? Play chess in complete silence? Allow me to guess: did the transmitter relating to 'passion' and 'fits' demand that you take over the Crystal Empire? Let me guess a second time: did those same transmitters tell you to spread that lethal smoke all over Equestria?"
"I'm thrilled that you managed to catch on!" laughed Sombra blandly. "When I was in your world, in Dunwall, I spent an enormous amount of time in the library. I read a great deal of books, all the ones recommended by academics. In one of those books the author brazenly declares: 'Any act done out of love is beyond good and evil.'* Imagine my surprise, the unimaginable artfulness on my face when I read that. So I went on thinking, that since I may only organize my transmitters, and can't dictate them directly, my acts of love are injunctions. What is good and evil, by the way? I'm evil, and Celestia is good? That's no fair. What I do as a product of love is just as affectionate in nature as what she might do. Love is all the same, just oriented in different proportions. If my love leads me to murder, who's to say Celestia's love is any better? Does she have the 'good' transmitters?"
Sombra said that he spent a lot of time in a library, thought Corvo. What is that supposed to mean? If he was in a public library why would no one see him? Did he use an invisibility spell, or better yet, did he assume human form? The latter isn't too much of a stretch, adding everything else in.
"You want to know what makes you evil, Sombra?" said Corvo, smirking. "You massacre innocent ponies in the six or seven digits. That creates chaos, which in turn shakes the equilibrium of society. Your 'love' for evil is a parasitical problem; and what better way to remove parasites than to exterminate them?"
"What sort of rebuttal is that?" Sombra was frowning. "Your moment of weakness, eh? You scold me, you even threaten me! Why are you so cruel, Corvo?"
"Would you like me to tell you why I came looking for you?" laughed Corvo; but at the same time a shadow went over his pale face. "To tell you the truth, I myself am still trying to find the answer. Call it intuition, I came here out of sheer intuition. But I do have a reason, my brain is screaming at me right now. My whole thought process, the uninterrupted sum of its influence, was made up, it created a result, and upon that result I decided to abandon the ponies. It is almost like I'm unconscious of it, that I searched for you because 'passion' rushed into my heart. I was so inspired, and to such a degree, that I went right along with this unexplainable cogitation to find you. And yet as of now I am still trying to figure this all out."
It should also be noted that this result Corvo is referring to, this inspired passion, was in fact the expected deduction: that is, a complicated deduction, but one which carried a delayed reaction. We will get to that later on.
Sombra was listening attentively, filled with an ironic righteousness that reflected in his piercing gaze. He laughed and said: "Ha, well then—well, well—so tell me this, Corvo, were you overtaken by a fit of passion, just like me?"
"A fit of... passion?" said Corvo with a long stare, as though this were the first time he ever heard of such a phrase. He began to shudder. "No, no, why would I be overtaken by something so fantastical, so superstitious? Are you daft? I was not talking about 'fits of passion' or whatever you mean; I just felt sorry for Celestia. That is all."
"In that case, I shan't altogether be sorry, for then my object will be attained," said Sombra, feeling all traces of mockery leave his self-complacency. "Joking aside, it doesn’t matter to me, scold if you like, though it’s better to be a trifle more polite even to me."
"Scold you?" laughed Corvo. "I scold myself for being here."
"If you scold yourself then it's to my credit," said Sombra with dignity. "Ha, ha, why are we digressing all of a sudden? You don't want to admit your fits of passion? Fine, leave it as it is."
"Do not let me discourage you. What else did those 'fits of passion' make you do? For starters, how did you get into my world?"
"Using my own magic, of course! Dark magic has a unique reaction with the Outsider's magic, that being the little mark on your hand. I understand why you came to Equestria in the first place: stop the upcoming war between our planes of existence. That was all true, of course, and to my convenience. Your initial presence broke me free from those glaciers, I followed you back right under the Outsider's nose, and I managed to engineer a magical mirror, and stole the Crystal Heart during your second visit. Funny, isn't it? Princess Celestia caught on, she secretly took notice of my mysterious absence (although she couldn't do much, given the two year wait) and—"
"Damn it, I know all of that already," interposed Corvo. "Why go on and on with your mouth about what I'm very well familiar with? This is nothing new, you are really just offering me a carcass of these tepid facts which we have all had burned into our brains thanks to you. Are you supposed to be raving, or what? Are you sure you did not latch onto a fit of redundancy, rather than one of passion?"
"You're no better!" cried Sombra excitedly. "What about you, Corvo? What are your fits of passion, eh?"
"There are no 'fits of passion,' you damned fool," said Corvo severely, as though he had swallowed something bitter. "All you have done up until now is prattle, you prattle on about pseudoscience, 'fits of passion' make no sense whatsoever, it bears no influence in the scientific circle. Precisely what are you aiming for? To throw me off my feet by convincing me I do everything out of love, that my actions are all based on 'transmitters' related to affection? Of all the things you could have told me, out of all the thoughts, you chose the stupid ones. That is active decision making, not pseudoscientific transmitters. You are awfully, unbearably stupid. What am I to do, just what am I to do?"
"Okay, okay, let's put fits of passion down on the sidelines!" cried Sombra, trembling all over with animation. "Heh, let's talk about the devil in all our hearts."
Corvo made no response again.
"Okay... okay... we've all got those little demons in our hearts, don't we? We sure do! And I know you know that: our capacity for evil, the most vile atrocities, all available within the back of our minds."
"Why would I know that?" said Corvo wearily.
"Who doesn't know about our capacity for evil? Our friends tell us all the time! And they repeat it to us, just to hammer the nail home!"
Serath told me that, thought Corvo, much to his surprise. He described the infinite capacity for evil we all hold. I was skeptical at first, but... did I believe him? I think not, or maybe I did. Did Sombra overhear our conversation back then? Sombra predicted our actions perfectly and planned accordingly, as I explained to Discord. So Sombra clearly knows about Serath, though I doubt he is willing to admit it. May as well try...
"Sombra," began Corvo, "I need to know for certain: is Luna under your control? Back in the illusion, in Canterlot Castle, did you put her under a spell of some sort?"
"Wh-at?" pronounced Sombra, blinking to make sure he still had his senses. Suddenly a crooked, ambiguous smile slowly contorted on his face. "Heh, heh—ha, ha, ha! Corvo, is that why you came looking for me, to find answers to that kind of allegation? You really know your comedic value, eh?"
"Is that all you have to say?"
Sombra sighed. "If you really want an answer, then: no. Princess Luna isn't under my control. If I could manipulate an alicorn like that any smart pony would go for Princess Celestia, too. And I think Princess Celestia would notice if her sister was working against the good of the country."
"I thought you would say that," said Corvo unimpressively, typical of a poor relation. "Check."
"A masterful gambit!" laughed Sombra, moving a piece in his turn. "There, protected by my bishop now. Forced to move back or I'll claim your queen."
"Tell me this, if nothing else: what exactly does that smoke do when it consumes a pony, or a person? We are all avoiding it as if it were the gaseous form of lava. Is that it?"
"Wouldn't you like to know. Eh, fine, I'll be blunt: it destroys all the aspects of the body which enables you to physically function. Think of it as a super acid. A single second in its grasp and you're done for, I'm afraid."
"You should have produced a greater effort then. Your attempts to kill me and the princesses are lamentable."
"Corvo, my dear acquaintance, above all things I want to behave like an honourable pony and to be recognized as such," Sombra began in an access of deprecating and simple-hearted pride. "This genocide I'm initiating—it's about the journey, not the destination. Maybe you expected something a little less quaint."
"Why the hell would genocide be perceived as quaint?"
"Why wouldn't it?" said Sombra in return, his face opening up to genuine surprise. "I mean... first of all, first of all, do you know what quaint is?"
"Why would I not know what quaint is? A child's vocabulary right there."
"Well, if you read history, Equestrian history, it's quite the bloodbath. Over nine hundred wars have been recorded, either due to territorial reasons or tribal hatreds, especially the pegasi and unicorns. There've been genocides in the past, I'm not the Ur-example. But ever since Princess Celestia and Luna took the reins it's gotten a lot quieter. Running a genocide is very old-fashioned." Sombra looked up thoughtfully for a moment. "Hmm, could be one of the reasons why I'd release my smoke."
"Yes, of course. It makes sense you would think that."
"Ha, ha, quaint, vert quaint! Goes to show the march of time, doesn't it? Our lives are like specks, gone in the blink of an eye when put up against the backdrop of the cosmos. Billions of years go by, and what about me?—Celestia?—Luna? We've been around for over a thousand years, but compared to several billions? An uneducated comparison at best. In all those years, how long did it take? How long till we got hold of ourselves and built civilization?"
"Who are we to know?" mused Corvo. "The historians have been keeping busy with all the work."
"But maybe you'll never find out. Corvo, are you afraid of dying?"
"What a painfully stupid question," reproached Corvo venomously. "Most everyone is afraid of dying when the time comes. You fool!"
"You're scolding again?" said Sombra, lowering an eyebrow. "I didn't ask out of sympathy. You don't have to answer."
"You already told me that you fear death."
Sombra suddenly began laughing, with careless and sharply impolite eyes staring straight down at Corvo. "Ah, that's right. I'm afraid of dying. But I am also afraid of a certain discovery we ponies have made, and by the looks of it, humans have made the same discovery a long time ago. Who knows how much I'd give to strangle the first being to have discovered this particular thing. Can you guess what that is? No, no, I won't tell you, you have to guess, toss up an answer."
"How am I to know? Territory?"
"Not even close!" Sombra laughed again. "Come on, dust off that brain of yours. It isn't too hard now."
"My bad," muttered Corvo wearily, as though his tongue were heavy. He rubbed his face and sat up straighter, and went on: "You are scared of the grave, you also want to kill everyone. In addition it sounds like you hate this so-called 'discovery.' Er..." Corvo stopped suddenly, seeming struck.
"You don't look very good," said Sombra, and a line of pleasure appeared on his lips. "Headache?"
"Shut up, you fool!" Corvo suddenly snapped.
"You keep calling me that, and look at the good it's done you." But then a strange and deliberate change assumed on Sombra's face. He still kept his devilish smirk, his eyes softened noticeably, readily reacting to Corvo far more clearly. "This time I'll act honestly and explain what I mean. I was saying before that I'm very fond of all the archaic violence scattered throughout history. We ponies have changed immensely, and the rate is going faster than anything I've ever seen before. It's amazing, really! But wars are no good for the future, especially the near future. You see, that's why we avoid wars nowadays, and why I brought it up in the first place: it's to no one's benefit. Not the future!"
"We have known about the future for quite a while now—millions of years, in fact."
"But isn't that such an enigma on its own?"
"The fact that we know about the future? Possibly. Real life is an enigma. Is that what you were upset about: that we discovered the future?"
"No, but close. We discovered time," Sombra was speaking quickly, his face somewhat flushed. "No other animal is conscious of the fact that they're conscious, absolutely no other animal. But what about intelligent beings like humans and ponies? Give a wolf twenty pounds of meat and he'll eat it all without stopping. Animals don't plan for the future, but we do. We're all too conscious, we're self-aware, we can bargain with the future. For pity's sake, what a powerful tool: the ability to bargain with the future, as if it was a person! Nothing is more astounding than bargaining with the future! The idea that we can interact and understand the future is partly from the moment we became conscious, and what a moment it must've been! It was a developmental stage on the way to even being able to say the word 'future.' It boggles my mind how, in the span of six million years, we somehow, along the road, started to call ourselves self-aware and bargain with the future. And we have no idea where these incomprehensibly sophisticated ideas come from."
Sombra was shaking all over, his eyes burned with extreme excitement.
Corvo even found himself mildly amused and added: "Yes, we can indeed bargain with the future. Just like sacrifice, we give something up to better our lives round the corner."
"Yes, yes, yes, yes!" Sombra sputtered, exerting himself as not to get too distracted. "Sacrifice! That's just what I was thinking!"
"Even in the most ancient of times there were sacrifices. That is, sacrifice something of high value, like a pure-white goat, to the deities above the sky. Well after we obtained perfect consciousness we dealt with bargains for the future using sacrifices."
"Ha, that's all different, it's all been changed!" laughed Sombra with a sort of insistent obstinacy. "Do you know how much blood was spilt before we, the intelligent beings, were able to sacrifice abstractly instead of killing something? For pity's sake, we had to act it out: 'The gods above enjoys the blood you shed, they're happy with it.' We went with that idea for who knows how long. Fifty thousand years? Hundred thousand years? We killed in the name of decorum before we got anywhere near the idea that sacrifice can be in the abstract. So tell me: when did we learn that we can sacrifice in the abstract? On what grounds did it ever occur to us? Consider the smoke I'm spreading a sacrifice: Equestria for the truth! I can't love a pony up-close. In the abstract, sure, but not up-close, it's impossible. And so if my affection (which, let's not forget, transcends good and evil, because those are too up-close) is of the most abstract nature, it's only reasonable to believe that I can affectionally spread the smoke and no pony may hold a complaint about morals. They'll fight back, of course, because self-preservation is the instinctive response, there's nothing more rational than self-preservation. But why are you fighting back against me, to save Equestria and vanquish my smoke, my dark magic? Is it because you don't think my sacrifice is abstract enough?—because you and Celestia have made up your verdicts: that I'm evil and she's good, so the latter must win by default? Are you using morals to stand against evil, or do you stand against evil because everypony, yourself included, wants to live in the end? You see, you see! Wanting to live is concrete, it's the bargain of the future, it's intrinsic; but using a coward's rulebook of morals, to defeat me because 'it's the right thing to do,' and nothing more, is in the abstract. When sacrifice involved ritualistic killings that was all we knew, and so I declare in the present: all I know is that type of sacrifice. I spread my smoke because I blur the difference, not because I'm placed on one side of a good-and-evil binary argument. That's to imply, I do what I do because Princess Celestia would tell you: 'We have to defeat the villains; it's the right thing to do.' In that case how can you call me evil, if I act on my own affections? If Princess Celestia conceded that she acts on her morals just to keep on living, and not just append the phrase 'it's the right thing to do,' I'd retreat my smoke and give up, I'd do so in the blink of an eye, because only then would she be justified. But no, ha, ha! That isn't the accepted truth! And so I'm still standing, at the ready to bring Equestria with me to the abyss."
"Check," said Corvo, with a smile of hatred "Eh, interesting premise, but you hold a double standard: if you do what you do out of affection, due to your own subjective sense of good, then that, too, is placed within the realm of abstractness; and by your own logic, you have no foundation to say we are unjustified in our attempt to stop you, since it no longer matters if it stands beyond good and evil or not. As such, you're full of holes. You have no idea how to argue, only that you want to commit genocide because"— his eyes suddenly gleamed —"you, Sombra, are a murderous hypocrite, an insane waste of life in every possible manner. Nothing more than a miserable, stupid murderer, and nothing less."
"You upbraid me every moment with being stupid," said Sombra severely and bitterly. "Intelligence isn't everything. I've got a kind and merry heart, I haven't insulted you once. I'm not trying to dispute your own philosophical reflections, whatever those are, I'm just explaining mine to you. Is that bad?"
"Maybe not, that is to say, not unless you break free from check," said Corvo impressively. "You are insufferably incompetent at this game. I have played ten-year-olds smarter than you."
Sombra moved a piece, only to lose his queen and be placed in check once again.
"You know, I always took it that the king and queen are a realistic representation of marriage," said Sombra, smiling comically as though he had forgotten everything they've been talking about. "The king has to take one step at a time, but the queen's crazy—she can go anywhere. Ha, ha... eh, what? Not a funny joke? Hey... hey! Are you sleeping!"
"I might well be," replied Corvo with a rude smirk.
"Heh, I once thought that, should the universe ever collapse on itself, the old morality would begin anew."
"That is all very charming," sighed Corvo, "but are you going to play or not?" Sombra moved a piece and the game resumed normally. "And new morality, you say? You cannot even swindle without a moral sanction. To hell with your ideas!"
"To hell with my ideas?" said Sombra, looking ironically at Corvo. "Whatever for? I guess they're a tad underused, probably even out of impracticality, not originality, strictly speaking. Heh, fine as it stands. My ideas are bad, they're unintelligent, I'll give you my admission there. But how about we bring up another topic? I like what you said there about owing to a moral sanction. I believe we all need approval to do what we really want. Be it the official law, or a personal philosophy, or by your own spirits—it's all very cowardly, in my opinion."
"Why would the law be cowardly?" asked Corvo.
"Well, I—ha, ha," he once more broke out into a frantic laughter. "All you've gotta do is take a long look around. On the outside ponies are good, oh, but on the inside who knows what they're like. It sounds insane, but it's actually very common for the average pony to think about committing violence or even killing somepony they hate. How many repulsive, dirty, downright dangerous thoughts do ponies (and people) think up on their own, in the privacy of their heads? Imagine the unforetold embarrassment if everypony could read every other pony's minds? Priceless, isn't it? Ha, ha!"
"Good thing we do not act out our conscious desires like uncivilized animals," said Corvo as though brooding, yet smiling all the same, "otherwise whenever a man saw a good-looking woman walking down the street we'd have a massive problem."
"Just what I was thinking!" laughed Sombra, his eyes gleaming. "We, as a society, keep to a set of agreed-upon morals as a means to not do whatever we want. But I repeat: cowards!" he exclaimed furiously. "Whenever a pony refrains from committing an immoral act it's not because it's 'wrong,' but more along the lines that they're too scared to do what they want, and so they cowardly hide under the guise of morals. Most of what you call morality isn't morality at all, it's just you being too afraid to do what you want because you're too weaselly to admit that. You say you don't do those things because you're 'moral,' but it isn't true. You'd love to do them if you were brave enough. But you aren't. Ponies don't love life, they're terrified of life, but they're too terrified to properly come to terms with it. They pretend to be good for not doing what they really want to do."
"I see. You spread this smoke because you refuse to play by those rules. You do what you desire."
"You're not a saint either," said Sombra, inclining his head mysteriously. "You've killed folk en masse in your world—masqueraded as the epitome of justice."
Corvo stopped smiling, as though horribly depressed, his face looked to have resembled an uncomfortable upheaval, involuntarily keeping his sight on the chess board.
Sombra, far too distracted and carried away by his own eloquence, continued with a twisted smile: "But I paid attention to the details. That's what I do best, Corvo: I look at the details and I remember them. Your deeds as the masked vigilante—the 'Wandering Stranger,' heh, heh, heh—they're slowing to a crawl. You've gotten less enthusiastic. In consequence, your killings are no longer a moral obligation, but instead you do them begrudgingly. Am I right in saying that? I mean, I don't actually know, it's a guess on my part. Heh, heh, heh, but I've noticed it. What is it? Do you hate your city or something? Do you no longer care? When I sent you that letter you came back to Equestria all too fast, like you were waiting for a reason to return. It took you less than a day even! With a letter as cryptic as mine there's no way you jumped to the conclusion about Celestia so quickly. In spite of—"
"Be quiet, deceiver!" Corvo interrupted feverishly. "You spoke correctly: it is a mere guess, you don't really know. So stop with the frivolous hogwash."
"Frivolous!" exclaimed Sombra. But then his face took on an expression of resolution. "Hmm, I did poke your principles a little too sluggishly there. Sorry, should've done a finer job. But back to moral sanctions: do you understand my position on it?"
"I hardly agree with you," drawled out Corvo, his eye-lids apparently heavier than usual. "Our own personal sense of right and wrong exists to settle the suffering we endure in our lives. Nothing to do with cowardice."
"You make a terrific point there. The suffering we've got to endure... heh. Consider that another potential reason for why I'd spread my dark smoke: to amplify everypony's suffering. No, no, no—no. I don't do it out of spite, I do nothing out of spite, it's foolish, very, very foolish. However, to stand as the last pony when all others are dead, it gives life some meaning. Life is directionless if others stand next to you."
"What am I to say to that? Go ahead and feel resentful about life if you'd like. Why in hell would I care?"
"Because there's so many reasons to be resentful about life!" cried Sombra harshly. "Everyone you know is gonna die; you're gonna die; everything is unfair and unpredictable and out of your control; there'll be suffering along the way, a lot of it you don't deserve; and most of it unnecessary. That's the tragedy! Unnecessary suffering is the worst kind of suffering because it doesn't need to exist. And yet it does, all due to the ponies around you!"
"What about it?" laughed Corvo sarcastically, almost with hostile feeling. "We deal with unnecessary suffering in life—true. So your response is genocide? Rather than reduce your miserable problems you complain about them and make it worse for yourself? You truly are the most pathetic, ridiculous being I have ever had the displeasure of laying my eyes on."
"And you know how to reduce the suffering in one's life," observed Sombra sententiously. "But it's the unnecessary suffering, precisely the unnecessary suffering, that strikes me in the heart. Why does it happen!" He looked to be on the verge of weeping, as though he had not listened to Corvo's insults. "Let me tell you: it's bad conduct. Bad conduct from us ponies. My response is to make the suffering necessary. They all run away, evacuate from Equestria, all in order to live, to breathe the clean air tomorrow. That's necessary! Ha, ha, it's interesting how ponies believe suffering is what gives their life purpose, but the suffering to which they attach said purpose is unnecessary since it can be gotten rid of with a change of behaviour. I'd assume that purpose is unnecessary, superfluous even, because who would keep their suffering (ninety-nine percent of which is unnecessary) if it could be disposed of or changed irrevocably? For what other reason should I carry out my genocide? Suffering is unnecessary, and therefore existential meaning is inessential. Ironic, isn't it?"
"Now you use circular reasoning," said Corvo, somehow troubled. "Existentialism is meaningless because of its nature?—that is what you declared. That nature being your own bungled attempts to tie necessity for suffering to the question of meaning. What a nonsensical correlation. By that logic I suppose we ought to refrain from warming our houses, as they sometimes lead to unnecessary house fires, and hearths are hardly the paramount feature of a house. Now I know the reason behind my headaches: your inexpert rhetoric."
"Again with the cruel chastising!" cried Sombra crossly, but, twisting his mouth, he quite literally forgot about his crossness at once and smiled maliciously. "Go, you say what you will, and I'll be honest enough to accept your criticisms. I could never be angry with you, Corvo. You're on the watch, you've come to stop me, but first, you've gotta learn something from me."
"And you need to learn something from me, otherwise why keep me alive?" said Corvo, returning the malicious smile.
"Can't say if you're convinced about that yourself," said Sombra with notes of disappointment in his voice. "Eh, what now? You want to dissuade me from something? I think not."
"Then you do not mean to take to proceedings?"
"Um! Wait, what do you mean by that? What proceedings? Eh... Corvo?"
"Ah, checkmate!" said Corvo triumphantly, knocking off Sombra's king with a knight.
"Oof!" guffawed Sombra, completely taken for surprise. He stared at the chess board wildly, surveying each piece with precision, and at last he looked up and heaved a deep sigh. "That's kind of a shame. I could've sworn I'd be the victor. Oh well, such is life; I mean, I only started playing chess recently, so I'm not very good. I hear Princess Celestia is a master, though."
"I can attest to that," said Corvo. Damn it, have they not placed the Crystal Heart yet? They should have had more than enough time. What in the world is happening?
Sombra looked out the window for a moment, observing that it was darker than before, which satisfied him greatly. Turning round he said to Corvo in a confidential half-whisper: "Earlier you made an inquiry about Luna's mental state, if she really was worth trusting, or if she's just following my orders and giving away your position at every step. I can give you a sufficient answer to that—radically sufficient, in fact."
Corvo raised a skeptical eyebrow but leaned in, listening intently.
And Sombra suddenly jerked, as if he experienced an unwarranted fit, violently hurling the board from the tables, scattering the pieces. His twitching face highlighted a maniacal vigour, his eyes burned.
"Of course Luna was under my control!" he gave a piercing cry, followed by an incoherent laugh. "Of course she's been double crossing you all, especially that dear Celestia! Ha, ha, ha, ha!" He fell back down, trembling from stimulated emotion. "I'm well aware of your friend, Serath. I know he's here. I definitely know about your group plans, in tremendous detail, from the moment you left for the Crystal Empire to your ride to that shabby little cabin. I know how long you stayed in that shelter, and for what purpose. Princess Luna has been telling me all this time. I've been well informed on just about ev-er-y-thing! Everything!" He was wheezing. Every fiber of his body shook joyously.
"I... I was right..." said Corvo monotonously, as though he didn't believe it himself. He felt a tension build up within him, right in his center, leaving him terribly cold, almost like it were about to stop his heart.
"And you want to know how?" cried Sombra, terribly pleased with himself and the whole situation. "You want to know how Luna and I have been keeping in touch all this time, for the past few days? There's this grey book, a grey book with a black numerical plastered right on it. You must've seen it, you had to. I specifically made sure to leave it out during the illusion I trapped you all in, I wanted you to get a good look, to set your eye on the thing as a distraction. You see, my dear Corvo, there's actually two grey books, the second one's in my possession. It works as a two-way system: write something in one and it'll appear on the other, and vice versa. A perfect match! Ha, ha, ha, ha!"
But every feature on Corvo's pale and indeterminate expression remained locked with a sort of incredulity. His whole posture, stone-still as first, slowly rose from his seat, and with a mysterious air looked ominously and darkly at Sombra.
"You've been fearing the unknown for a long time, that which lurks underneath," went on Sombra nonchalantly. "Whenever Luna had some alone time—and if you've noticed, she must've had the decent amount—she would write to me. It's all been according to plan, Corvo, my scheme is indestructible. Ha, ha! How does it feel? I'm willing to bet Princess Celestia failed, she's failed a long time ago, and you've been grasping at the invisible straws."
I believe that now is the best time to reveal the "expected deduction" that had been tormenting Corvo up until this point.
That is, Corvo roared with laughter at once, and he laughed frantically, maniacally, and with no cohesive direction, for what felt like an eternity, the entire time his eyes glittered contemptuously, overlapped with violent tremors. Sombra stood watching, seemingly struck, and deathly pale. At last Corvo ceased his laughter and breathed hard several times.
"Sombra," broke from Corvo slowly, with a horribly condescending air, "are you absolutely positive Luna was able to inform you of everything, including today? I see it in a different light: you were waiting for me here, she must have told you of my departure, and you guessed I would come."
"Don't—jump to conclusions, Corvo," said Sombra through tight lips. He started to sweat at the temples.
Corvo once again fell into an almost childish bout of giggles, evidently pleased with himself in the highest magnitude. He couldn't contain himself and, with stutters of elation in his voice, he continued with an unprecedented malign smile: "Let me tell you something, Sombra, and believe me, this 'something' will indeed ruin you, it will ruin you to oblivion. Call it a 'fit of passion,' but not only did I suspect Luna's submission to your will and magic, but I acted as if it were true; and on top, I knew you two must have been contacting each other, as I earlier deduced that your plans only add up with knowledge of Serath's presence, which, as it so happened, was a sheer accident, far removed from your initial plans. Unfortunately you overlooked the magic mirror and it sucked him in, at last suspending the magical reaction to equilibrium. And now? Now let us get to the present. I abandoned the ponies, but I did so without telling them, I remained vague, but I went further: I disappeared at no warning, that is, when Luna least expected it, for the entire time I acted within the boundaries of the group. I imagine it must have been quite the shock. I used the suddenness to my advantage: Celestia was going to travel underground back to the Crystal Empire, and she would always be on the move, so the last time Luna had the window to write to you was right before I left, as she would not get any other chance. That is why I waited, waited until the very end to make my move. That must have terrified you, it must have thrown you into a stupor, no longer receiving confirmations to your orders. You see, with my absence and Discord's—a benefit that he came—Celestia would hold no brakes, she'd race to the Crystal Empire as fast as she dared. By all probability this scenario left you and Luna in respective awkward positions: that is, you did not have enough time to instruct Luna on what to do (which would have been easier, since it is far more discreet to read a book rather than to write in one) because uncertainty clouded your judgement, and so by the time you predicted that I was after you, and when I arrived, it was all too late. Luna was forced to act on her own, and Celestia... ha, ha, you know, I legitimately trusted Celestia. I put my faith in the chance that she would come to out-wit her sister. Due to the lack of communication between you two, your entire plan went awry, and that left you blind ever since then. What is to be done in the end? Celestia will reach the Crystal Empire, either now, in a minute, an hour—as long as I'm here, you have no hope of stopping her, of reaching her in time. It is also the reason why you have not killed me yet: given this disturbance you wished to know what I was up to, what I had gone through to arrive at this rock farm, and for whatever reason."
"Then that settles it!" seethed Sombra, and a slow, impolite grin, one that represented a new stage of desperation, spread over his face. "What are you waiting for, Corvo? The last thing I'll do now is muse. But... but... ech!" He looked round, as if expecting there to be someone else in the room. "True, everything you say is the axiom of truth! Now, however, I've no need for you, you told me everything. I'm not gonna kill you, though—meaning I won't kill you myself. My black smoke is close, ve-ry close, just a few seconds away, in fact. You're a dishonourable warrior, nothing but the paragon of disgraceful sport! You can't kill me, Celestia is far off, who knows how far off, and in a few seconds we'll be buried in the smoke. It's here, listen, listen, do you hear it?—hear it? H-heh, h-eh..."
"The parallels are quite amusing," laughed Corvo with genuine happiness. "Oh, where is the silver lining you long for? Is it here? Well, I too am looking for a silver lining, but even if I die now, what difference shall it make? You lost, Sombra. I may die, but your fate does not change: you lost. And the upshot ought to lean one way or the other, and I believe that I will walk out of here alive. How long has it been since our chess match began? Half an hour, I think. I could have gone for longer, but what else am I to do? What is to be done in the end anyway?"
"I didn't lose! You lost! You! You! You l-os-t!" cried Sombra, as though he were incredibly drunk. And for an instant he truly believed that: the house shook, piles of dust poured from the ceiling, the scattered chess pieces jumped up and tinkled further apart form one another. A web of cracks appeared on the window to the left, bending it inwards, and when it shattered the black smoke poured in at an alarming rate.
What came next occurred so quickly, with such shocking timing, and with no warning, not even a far-away signal, that I can only describe the event as the characters experienced it.
It seemed as if a giant ray of white light streamed into the house, covering every inch of every object, but this was in a flash. The air altered to an alien geometry, completely perplexing them both, and the unexplainable bends of light and visual angles in the air was coming from the window. The smoke slowed down, surrounded by crystallized images.
This all culminated into a sweeping shockwave that detonated among them, gleaming with magical shards; it sped far past the cobblestone house, way off into the distance, and the smoke was nowhere to be seen.
When the sound died to a clear silence Corvo was positively stunned. Then it came to him: Celestia, Serath, the ponies—they succeeded. It was a wall of crystal light that scanned right past the territory, and hardly anything looked black anymore. In fact, what stunned him even more, producing bewilderment in his now-glowing countenance, was his whole body: it radiated light, and glitters flashed all over him. And more surprisingly, he was partly transparent.
"Ha, ha!" he cried in earnest, his voice carried some new-found strength. "I'm made of crystals! I feel light as a feather, too. My coat looks like it measures two thousand carats! Unbelievable!"
The crystallized effect on his figure seemed to have subtly altered his attitude, too. He was nearly shaking in rapture, his mind glowing and heart nearly weeping for joy, quite uncharacteristic of him, if I may add.
In fact, he almost forgot about Sombra. His eyes immediately took on a searching look; he wandered round the table and, lying there on the floor, shaking and groaning pitifully, was a creature that barely even resembled Sombra. It was him, there was no doubt there, but he had shrunken somewhat. His face was sallow and thinner, the mane on his head was almost gone, reduced to wisps of blackness. His horn was broken off, the top end nowhere to be seen.
"Pfft!" scoffed Corvo carelessly. "Pathetic. This is who you really are?"
Sombra weakly lifted his head. "Please..." he spoke in a slow, shrill voice, seeming to move his tongue with difficulty. "You... beat me... I-I-I-I'll ad-mit it... please..."
"So that is how it is, huh?" tittered Corvo. He took a second to look round him, whistled proudly, and looked back at Sombra. "I take it that that magical blast was not part of your plan. Am I correct? Well, in any case, a disaster on your part. Luna is no longer under your control. But, er, I must ask: does she still retain the memories of helping you, or is all of that wiped? Who knows the guilt she'll feel if the former is the case."
"I... I don't k-know!" squeaked Sombra in a childish, anxious voice. "B-but you beat... me! Go... take me t-to Princess Ce-les-ti-a..."
Corvo was ready to consider the proposition, but right then and there an eerie change went over his expression: the brilliance on his face began to fade, gradually overcome by a grey shadow. His confident, sensible smirk was replaced with a scowl, and his eyes burned like hot coals.
"Oh dear, what a terrible mess we have here," he said gravely and emphatically. "I ought to clean it up." And he suddenly drew out his folding sword, which gleamed in response to the glow of his coat.
Blood-curdling horror was the effect produced on Sombra's sallow face. He attempted to cry out, but coughed up blood, and could only moan in a severely faltering voice.
"I don't wanna die! I don't wanna die!" he kept imploring hopelessly, exerting himself to stand up.
"Is self-pity a new habit you obtained today?" said Corvo. He strode over to Sombra, raising his sword. "Pfft! You have come to grief, you oversized pest, so here you meet your end."
"No!" sputtered Sombra violently, saliva spraying from his mouth, utterly ignoring the great pain he was in. "I don't wanna die! I don't wanna die! I don't wanna die!"
Corvo stopped short, and remained standing over him like a tall statue, sword in hand, ready to strike, cold death reflecting in his murderous glare. Sombra froze, but continued repeating, as it were, to himself: "I don't wanna die. I don't wanna die."
"Ha... ha..." escaped Corvo's twisted lips. "Sombra... this is too good for you." And he wildly struck Sombra down with his sword, the latter whom gave a strangled, frenzied gasp, and sunk all of a heap back on the floor. Then Corvo dealt him another stab, and another, and continued the motions like a madman, and did not stop until blood was spread on the floor like an overturned glass.
He stopped at length, panting, watching down on the pony's battered body; then, he cleaned his sword on a nearby cloth to sheath it back in his blue greatcoat, and bent over Sombra's face. He was dead: his eyes were staring out of their sockets, the sickened whole of his face was contorted almost convulsively.
And suddenly he gradually vaporized into a stream of ashen-grey smoke, it lingered in the air for a few seconds, and at last disappeared. No traces of him were left, not even the gushes of blood.
"Finally, back to my senses," sighed Corvo in accomplishment and strode out of the house. The sun was resting right on the eastern horizon. The grass was glowing and rustling, the trees took on an orange highlight, intertwined with the beams of natural light; it was so bright that he was momentarily forced to shield his sight. He wandered to the fence, at length coming to realize his immense exhaustion, sitting down and sighing.
"Good grief," he said out loud, "how am I going to get back?"
He saw Discord's lifeless body, limp as before and in the same position. Some of the colour seemed to have drained from the draconequus's form. A tragic shame indeed, or so he thought.
"Good question," Corvo picked up the Outsider's monotonous voice. He turned slightly and, right before him, with that same pale, unimpressive face and black eyes was the Outsider, carrying his hands behind his back and walking over to Corvo.
"Entertained?" said Corvo, smiling an ironic smile.
"A lovely time for me," replied the Outsider. "The revelations, the words of betrayal shared, intrigue and mystery—and you were in the eye of the storm, a punishing spirit. I have watched over Serath as well, and I must say, what a serious twist that turned out to be. Who would think Corvo Attano's doctor friend would be caught up in the battle? Hmm, very interesting."
"There is nothing else to worry about then. Sombra is dead, the ponies are back together, Serath and I can return to Dunwall at last."
"And no future war, as far as I can tell, which means you succeeded in your original goal. You have done nothing but amaze me at every turn."
"Okay then, will you mind taking me to the Crystal Empire? I would walk, but my legs will get tired."
"Might as well."
But as Corvo rose to his, feet the Outsider lowered his shoulders, recovering some lost gloominess to his thin lips. "A lot has happened without you. Princess Twilight was injured, Princess Celestia threw herself at the smoke like a martyr, but Serath interested me most of all."
"Are they alright?" asked Corvo, not taking his eyes off the Outsider.
"Hmm, yes. They're all breathing, and will live to see the years to come. But"— he furrowed his brow —"what about Discord?"
"The poor sod is dead. Can you not see that?"
The Outsider hummed in thought and went over to Discord, and said: "No, that isn't right. He is alive, barely, but I can sense his life force."
"Really now?" said Corvo with a start. "Then what happened to him?"
"No magic, from what I ultimately observe. But Discord will recover, give it some time. He is simply unconscious, a minor coma even." The Outsider crossed his arms, inclining his head to Corvo. "Are you ready to be brought back, with Discord's body?"
"Damn," groaned Corvo, as if he were disappointed with himself. "Celestia will surely berate me for this. Ah, but that is no excuse, so yes, bring him along."
The Outsider nodded his head: time froze for a second, and when Corvo blinked, everything resumed. He was back in the Crystal Empire, right under the Crystal Castle, and all the others were there, their bodies crystallized just like his.