//------------------------------//
// Chapter 10: The Interview 
// Story: The Life of Penumbra Heartbreak 
// by Unwhole Hole 
//------------------------------//

Ponies began to gather. Slowly, at first, but then rising from one or two to a steady but barely imperceptible trickle. These were not the slaves, toiling in the mines or fields; those ponies knew to stay as far away from this event as possible, for only pain and darkness would arise from it. No crystal ponies dared near the arena, even during the day. Those that came were foreigners.
News had spread slowly through all of Equestria, transmitted through the circles of dark magi like a virus. Sombra the Witchking of the Crystal Empire had need of a wizard. All who heard and understood knew the implications of the request. A position in the Dark Thirteen was to be the elite among the elite, and it came with privileges. Almost all those who came sought one of two things. The more traditional among them sought freedom to perform their life’s work without restriction, and access to nearly limitless funding for their research. Others sought power, and power alone; to be a lord among lords in what was whispered to be the seed of the New World Order. 
The process was not new. It was said among many that the only two who had known all of the Dark Thirteen every to exist were the  Nameless One, and of course Sombra himself. Rarely, though, was an open audition called. 
Yet few dared to come. Attending the audition was a test in itself: to enter, a pony would need to cross the vast Hyperborean tundra, traversing endless icy wastelands and eternal storms. Then they would need to enter the kingdom. Mechanisms had been specially installed in the shield-dome for their entry- -but using them was by no means easy.	
So only a few managed to come. Only the strongest and most resourceful- -but also the most ruthless and depraved. Only those who would risk their lives to stand among twelve of the evilest sorcerers who had ever lived- -and at the side of the Witchking himself. 
When the day of choosing finally came, those who had arrived gathered at the arena. Few, it seemed, had made it in the first batch.
Among them were the unicorns Student 568 and Student 497, who had the advantage of already being present in the Crystal Empire when the contest began- -but the disadvantage of cutthroat competition with the rest of Necrophilo’s other students. They were the best he had to offer, and he expected success of one of them. The other was by definition a worthless disgrace. 
With them stood a Pegasus with a fiery red mane, a highly aromatic earth-pony in colorful robes, a bison clad in unfamiliar animal skins, a breezie, and an inexplicable yak. No others had dared to come- -or survived the journey. 
Student 568- -Riser- -pulled up her ornate battle-robes so that the fur cuff was closer to her ears. “There aren’t many of us. Is this all there is?”
“Where you expecting more?” snorted 497. His name, technically, was LemonLeaf, although he preferred his number vastly. His parents, it seemed, had not had much foresight with his naming.
“Says the guy who was already here,” grunted the Pegsus, who was leaning against a wall. He was exceedingly physically fit, and had a scar across one eye. His very presence- -as well as the presence of his soft, fuzzy wings- -made Riser’s horn tingle. 
497 squinted at the Pegasus. As a unicorn, he was taller, but as a necromancer, he was thin and flabby compared to the perfect specimen of physical fitness before him. “A Pegasus. There aren’t very many of your kind here. Not that still have their wings anyway.”	
“Touch my wings, and I’ll touch YOU. In a bad way.”
“What do you even do? Surely you’re not a mage.”
The Pegasus smiled and flipped his hair. “Weather manufacturing. Specialty: natural disasters. They call me Skyflame. That hurricane last year that nearly wiped out Trottingham? That was me. I made that.”	
“Was that the one that had FIRE?” gasped Riser.
“You bet your sweet necromancer flank.” He flipped his hair again. “Yeah, all that stuff you call ‘weather’ out here? That wasn’t even hard. Just flew right through it.” 
“I would like to see your wing muscles,” whispered Riser. “If we both survive the testing, do you want to go for some crystal tea?”
“You want to go to tea with a member of the Dark Thirteen? Huh, I don’t know...”
“Idiot,” squeaked the breezie, landing on the earth-pony’s head.  “She wants to disconnect them from your body.”	
“And do electrokinetic analysis...” Riser shivered. “So much analysis...”
“And how did a little breezie get here?” asked the earth-pony. 
“Did you know that we can survive inside a living host for almost a month?”
“Um...no?”
“Well, now you know.” 
Riser gasped. “Is it in the liver? Tell me it’s the liver!”
“What is a breezie even doing here?” snapped 497. “You’re essentially a glorified butterfly. Or a MOTH. What magic do you do? Make dust that makes ponies fly?”
“I already fly,” added Skyflame. 
“My dust will certainly make you FEEL like you are flying.” A thin smile crossed the breezie’s face. “At least until the hemorrhaging starts.”	
The earth-pony whose nose he was sitting on blinked. “Huh? What?” 
“This is so interesting,” said Riser. “Messy, but interesting. I’ve never actually met a breezie. What is your specialty?”
“Toxins. And what your primitive, absurd language calls ‘biomancy’.”
“Ooh! Ooh! Me too!” The earth-pony nearly knocked the breezie off her nose. “I do plants! Well, not in an inappropriate way, but- -oh! And also fungus! Look!” She reached under her robes and produced a small, leaking packet. “Check it out! Magic yeast!”
“For what?” asked Skyfire, leaning away from the aroma. 
“For necromancy! Because, you know, it makes them RISE!”
Everypony present groaned. 
“What? I also have magic beans!”
“There are no magic beans, idiot,” sighed 497.
“Yes there are! CASTOR beans!” 
More groans. 
“Great,” sighed Skyfire. “So one chick smells like formaldehyde, and the other makes puns. Ugh. I was told the mares here were actually, you know, appealing. Even the breezie is starting to look good.”
“How dare you! I am a MALE breezie!”
“And I am female,” said the otherwise stoic bison, leaning close to Skyflame.
“Wh- -what?”
“I have a feather, do I not?” she pointed. “I am female. Do I not appeal to you?”
“Um- -uh- -”
“And what do you do?” asked Riser. 
“I am a skin-walker. If you must know. I turn into animals.” 
“Oh wow! I’ve heard there is a species that can do that on their own accord- -”
“Idiot,” said 497, shoving his associate hard in the shoulder. “Changelings are a myth. It’s a scientific fact.” 
“Oh.” Riser turned to the last member of the group, the yak, who was at this point eating a pile of snow. “And what about you? What are you?”
“Huh?” the yak looked up, although could apparently not see much through the hair that covered his eyes. “Who addresses yak? Tiny pony? What, is tiny pony blind? Yak is YAK!”
“No, I mean what kind of magic do you do?”
“Magic? Does yak look like tiny little weak pony? NO! Yak check before coming! Yak not need stupid magic! Yak is YAK!” 
The earth-pony appeared horribly confused. “Um...you do realize this is an audition for a position as a court mage, right?”
“NO! Yak does not know such thing because yak not bother read!”
“More like CAN’T read,” chuckled 497. 
“No! TINY PONY cannot read! Cannot read Yak! As yak have know written language. But not need read! And not need puny magics! Yak win contest! Does tiny pony know why?”
“Perseverance?” volunteered Riser.
“NO! Because yak is YAK!” He puffed into his hair, and it pushed back slightly from his eyes. “Is not being much completion anyway. Just tiny little ponies! Though pretty bison girl might give good competition, eh?”
The bison smiled very slightly. 
A sound came from a walkway overhead. Each member of the group, being naturally suspicious, looked up to see who was there. Two figures were passing on the high wall of the gate, moving toward the arena. One was the height of a normal pony, but clad in strange foreign garb and wearing a substantial wooden mask. The other was shorter and clad in dark iron armor and a long red skirt. She wore a black hood over her face, obscuring it. 
The earth-pony candidate gasped. “That- -that’s  Seven of the Thirteen, Crozea the Witchdoctor!” She nearly squealed. “She’s my FAVORITE! I have five copies of her trading card!”
“Wait.” 497 turned. “There are trading cards?”
“Yes. I made them!”
“But who is that with her?” asked Riser. She turned to 497. “You don’t think she’s fielding her own student, is she?”  
“The zebra doesn’t have students. I don’t know who would bother even applying.” 497 squinted, and for a moment he was sure the hooded figure stared back at him- -before they disappeared out of sight into the gallery of the arena. “But that said...I have no idea who that is.” 
“Only Sombra wears red.”
“Then he’s shorter than I expected,” said Skyflame.
“Insolence! No. That’s not him.”
“I have a strange feeling,” said the bison. “I do not like that girl.” 
“You don’t think it could be the princess?” asked Riser.
“Sombra’s daughter? The one from that mess of a crystalling?” 497 looked up. “No, that’s not possible. She’s barely be five months old. That girl was almost a teenager.” He turned to the others and smiled. “Not that it matters. Unless the Pegasus is now too distracted to compete.”
“Buck you,” growled Skyflame.
“Perhaps I can give you foreigners some advice. Crozea’s presence bodes well. Because it serves as a reminder. As renowned as they are, only a few are truly powerful. Crozea is only a zebra, and is far weaker and less skilled than even the breezie.” 497 laughed. “If the current Thirteen are any indication, this challenge should be simple. I mean, if they let Holder Heartfelt in, surely anyone can pass the test.”	
The earth-pony grew pale. “He- -he’s REAL?!” She looked around in a panic. “Is he here? As in  PHYSICALLY?”
“He is no doubt in some bar weeping into his salt. As is usually the case. Isn’t that so, 586?”
497 turned and found himself standing beside a unicorn he did not recognize. 
“Huh?” More confused than surprised, he stepped back. The others did as well, confirming that she was indeed actually there.
She wore armor. So much so that not a single inch of her skin or mane was showing. It was not exactly made of metal, though. Even as a student of the arcane, 497 could not identify it, apart from the fact that it was a mottled blue and violet color- -and that it was still sparking as if charged from some unseen spell. It had no distinguishing marks or heraldry, like normal armor, save for a symbol emblazoned on the flank, where the cutie mark would be: a simple pair of horizontal, parallel lines. 
“Who in Sombra’s name are YOU?”
The armored unicorn turned to face him. The neck of her suit had some kind of complex mechanism that rendered it remarkably flexible. Her face was fully covered with a nearly opaque black plate. It was flat and featureless, but two small red lights glowed deep from below it. Lights like tiny eyes. 
The unicorn did not respond to the question. She stood in silence.  
“Oh, what, not going to talk? Please. Agitating and unbalancing your opponent is the oldest trick in the book. It never works.”
The unicorn still did not speak. Nor did she move, even slightly. 
497 sighed. “Fine,” he said. “I’ll defeat you too, like the rest of them.” He turned to the gate, away from the armored pony and the others. “I swear on my own horn, I will not lose.”
Blue magic ignited within the armored mare’s horn, instantly assembling itself into six blue spheres that floated around her head. Before any of the others could realize what she was doing, the spheres shot out in a flash to meet each of the other candidates. Each spell exploded in a plume of lightning, their targets screaming and convulsing as their nervous systems overloaded. 
They all fell- -save for 497. At the last second, he had activated a latent shield spell. The magical attack was advanced- -incredibly so- -but so was his shield. Several aspects were broken and disabled, but several encrypted aspects survived just long enough for 497 to remain conscious- -and to produce a devastating feedback wave.
The armored unicorn was thrown back, although she did not scream. The blast would have put a normal pony in a coma; she was clearly advanced.
497 dropped to one knee, but even as he did, he smiled. “Big mistake.” By the time he had finished those two words, he had already prepared a devastating counterattack. 
497 sighed. “Fine,” he said. “I’ll defeat you too, like the rest of them.” He turned to the gate, away from the armored pony and the others. “I swear on my own horn, I will not lose.”
Blue magic ignited within the armored mare’s horn, instantly assembling itself into six blue spheres that floated around her head. Before any of the others could realize what she was doing, the spheres shot out in a flash to meet each of the other candidates. Each spell exploded in a plume of lightning, their targets screaming and convulsing as their nervous systems overloaded. 
They all fell- -save for 497. At the last second, he had activated a latent shield spell. The magical attack was advanced- -incredibly so- -and it tore through every aspect of his protection spell with devastating precision. Even the parts that were encrypted fell, not shattered but opened and deactivated with flawless precision and uncanny speed.
When his shield failed, 497 fell, unconscious. Only one candidate remained to apply, and she walked over the bodies of the others as she silently approached the arena gate.  

The arena itself was a large, dome-shaped amphitheater, carved, of course, from crystal- -but also strange, dark stone, a relic of a time long-forgotten. When Penumbra and Crozea entered, the stands were almost entirely devoid of ponies and the stone-block floor had only one large, cubic container in it. 
“Where should we sit, Lady Corzea?” 
“Exactly where does not matter; but high enough to avoid the splatter.”
“Yes, Lady Crozea. I will select a seat.”
Penumbra did so, choosing a high seat in the upper level directly across from the only other two ponies present: a white unicorn in an officer’s coat and a black one in royal regalia. Though there was an area meant for royal habitation, Sombra had elected not to use it in favor of getting a closer view of the candidates. 
“I am so very excited,” said Penumbra quietly, folding her skirt around herself as she sat down. “I am glad that father allowed me to participate.”
“For you this is not a matter of speculation; watching these mages will assist in your education.”
Penumbra smiled. That might have been true, and she was sure it would be valuable- -but this was the first time she had seen Sombra since her failure to impress him, and even at a distance, she was glad to be with him. She was also glad that Twilight Luciferian was at a different; being around him made her heart beat faster and her face feel hot. 
“Oh, this is going to be so much fun!” squealed a voice that was neither Crozea’s nor Penumbra’s. Penumbra knew it well; it was the voice without a body that sometimes spoke in her head, as well in the heads of others. She had grown accustomed to its endless presence and occasional commentary on her actions. Supposedly, it was named Eternity. “I hope they have another kirin! They have those adorable little weird fluff-scarves that I ABSOLUTELY HATE.” 
Penumbra almost laughed. She did not know what a kirin was, and the voice in her head sometimes made her ears bleed when it got agitated. Even that did not matter now, though; she was just too happy.

Twilight Luciferian looked up into the stands at his future bride, and the zebra nursemaid beside her. He waved, and even at a distance he thought he could see the girl blush. Then he returned to his work.
“I have prepared a list,” he said, passing an exorbitantly thick scroll to Sombra. “It identifies all possible candidates, their skills, histories, grades, races and relative magical potential.”
“A list.” Sombra sighed. “As always, I see you have prepared.”
“This is a very important decision, my king. Both because the one you select will stand beside you, and be one of the very few who can call me a peer. As your adviser, I am honored you would allow me to assist you.” 
“Indeed, it is important.” Sombra turned his gaze to the upper stands. “And yet I had hoped that I would not have to hold this asinine contest. At least viewing it may give her some...inspiration.” His slit-pupiled eyes turned to Luciferian. “Actually, do you not have a daughter yourself? Will she be applying for this position?”
Luciferian’s expression hardened. “I would hardly call her a ‘daughter’. No. She will not be here. In that respect, you and I bear a similarity. My daughter is equally limited in her use of magecraft. However, at least you can hold out hope that yours might one day improve.”
“Indeed. Hope...”
Luciferian checked his list. “That said, I see that Necrophilo is fielding two of his best.”
“And this does not bother you?”
Luciferian looked up. “Why would it?”
“You and he always seem to be in a perpetual battle for my attention. Like a pair of unruly children.”
Luciferian smiled coldly. “That would be the nature of unicorns, I suppose. But I see no reason to worry. If Necrophilo trained them, they will surely fail here.”
“And that pleases you?”
“My king, how many necromancers do we require?” 
“One would be plenty. Such a useless art.” Sombra looked out into the arena. It still smelled of pony sweat and metal from the last circus. “Shall we begin?”
Luciferian nodded, and his horn flashed. “I shall signal for the candidates to enter. If all goes well, his or her fate will be decided quickly.” 
“Nothing about this decision must be made in haste.” Sombra nodded. “Send him in.”
The great gate ignited with violet light and was pulled open. Dull gray light shined through, and a few flakes of snow drifted in. With them came a pony dressed in violet and blue armor, her flanks each marked with a pair of lines. 
Immediately, Luciferian’s eyes narrowed. He picked up the list and unfurled it. “What is this? This one isn’t on the list! And where are the others?!”
“Whether she is on the list or not, she is here. Sombra looked through the open gate. “And it appears she has taken the initiative to eliminate the competition early.”
Luciferian looked out the door and burst into laughter. “HA! How fascinating!” He stood and approached the edge of the arena grounds. The mare stood below him, watching up through her nearly opaque mask. 
“What is your name, mage?”asked Sombra.
There was no response. The armored unicorn did not speak.
Luciferian frowned. “The king has asked you a question, mage. ANSWER. NOW.”
Still no response came. 
Luciferian frowned even more deeply. “Then at least tell me where you are from. And your specialty.”
There was no response. Luciferian was increasingly becoming enraged; he could tolerate her refusing Sombra, but he himself being refused was out of the question.
“Fine,” he said, his frown becoming a dark smile. “You are stubborn. Hopefully your failure will teach you something valuable. And not be so messy this time.” 

“Well that’s weird.”
“What?” said Penumbra, responding to the voice in her head. She leaned forward and gasped. “That pony. She was not in the group of candidates we saw when we entered.”
“I already know that. That’s not the weird part.”	
“Oh?” Penumbra looked upward, as if that was where the voice was coming from. “Then what is?”
“I can see everything in the Crystal Empire. But that suit she’s wearing, I can’t see what’s on the other side.”  

Twilight Luciferian stepped out into the Arena. Instead of falling into the pit, a translucent violet square appeared before him, supporting his weight. More appeared as he walked forward, circling the silent candidate on a path of his own magic. 
“My name is Twilight Luciferian, Lord and Scion to House Twilight. You now stand before the great King Sombra, Eternal Ruler of the Crystal Empire. Etiquette would normally require you to bow, but you’ve already balked at protocol several times.”
“Twilight,” said Sombra. “I do have other things to do today.”
“Of course, my king.” Luciferian paused on one violet square and addressed the applicant. “You came in response to the request for a new member of the Dark Thirteen. Specifically, we seek a warrior. A battlemage. One who will be able to attack the Celestial-Lunal forces directly, and to aid us in the upcoming war for righteous dominance. We have enough researchers and academics. So I devised a special test.” 
His square levitated upward, toward the black cube. His magic glowed and the smooth black surface separated into a number of independent squares that in turn separated into more squares. Within seconds, the walls of the cube were gone; even before they had fully dispersed, though, amorphous flesh had already seeped between the cracks. 
When the creature was finally revealed, Penumbra felt her medicine and bile rise in the back of her throat. Never before had she seen something so disgusting. 
“This creature is called a proteus,” explained Luciferian, gesturing toward the swirling, writhing mass of rapidly differentiating and dissolving flesh. “Natural-born proteii are the natural predators of changelings. This one was once a mage who had been experiment with dzeronium. Defeat the creature, and try to be showy. We will be grading you.” 
Luciferian raised his head and fired a bolt of energy into the beast. It screamed in an inarticulate, piping gurgle as it suddenly became motivated. Parts of its liquid flesh shot forward, hardening into bone and deriving hideous, asymmetrical arms. Its front tore open into a vast mouth filled with numerous eyes, and it began pulling itself forward toward the armored unicorn. 
The creature struck at her with a thorn-covered tentacle the width of a tree trunk. The appendage came toward her like a vast whip, whistling as it went. The mage responded by dodging, lifting herself easily, balancing on hoof and performing an acrobatic flip over the appendage. She had almost landed when the thorns exploded into liquid flesh, reforming into tiny hands that grabbed her and threw her to the ground. As they did, the flesh began to crawl over her suit, dragging her into it. Its digestive enzymes hissed as her armor began to dissolve, and her horn ignited. 
The creature struck at her with a thorn-covered tentacle the width of a tree trunk. The appendage came toward her like a vast whip, whistling as it went. The mage responded by bracing herself and igniting herself with magic, charging her armor with intense light. When the tentacle struck her, the part that contacted her armor vaporized, severing the end of the tentacle. The proteus responded by speaking in the remnants of many languages as its wound healed.
The severed tentacle produced many insect-like legs and sprinted toward the armored mage, its mouth stretching out toward her, already filled with teeth tipped in clawed hands. The mage levitated and summoned a shield spell that took the form of an enormous multi-faceted jewel around herself. The tentacle struck and the shield was knocked back, dragging its tip across the ground.
The severed piece quickly lost interest and surged past her, rejoining the main mass. The mass itself stood, rising on five legs, and charged. The mage rolled out from under its hoof, slicing at the nearest of the legs with a blade of magic. Fluid burst from the wound, but as it did it hardened into long filaments. One stabbed into her leg, and the others grasped her, holding her so that she could not escape- -just as the top of the proteus fell, crushing her. 
The severed piece quickly lost interest and surged past her, rejoining the main mass. The mass itself stood, rising on five legs, and charged. The mage rolled out from under its hoof and fired a spell. In an instant, her body was surrounded by blue light- -and vanished. She reappeared on top of the creature, near where its eyes were, and struck downward. As she did, a claw filled with venomous spines grabbed her, filling her with lethal poison.
She reappeared on top of the creature, distant from where its eyes were located, and summoned a shield spell in the direction of a long venomous arm was attached. The arm struck out and impacted the shield, vaporizing itself in the process. The creature laughed as the mage fired a plume of electricity downward, causing its legs to collapse as she teleported away. 
Sombra leaned forward as the mage rolled and dodged, preparing an exceedingly complex attack alignment spell. “Two teleportation spells within less than a minute. Few sorcerers yet alive can perform teleportation at all; I had considered it lost knowledge. This is indeed an interesting candidate. Your thoughts Luciferian.”
“Yes,” said Luciferian, distantly. He was barely paying attention to Sombra, instead refusing to take his eyes off the mage even for a moment. Something was wrong; he could sense it, but he was not quite sure what it was yet. “Very interesting...”
The alignment spell fired, striking at the creature from eighteen desperate points, each using a different elemental matrix. The spell itself was diluted by the immense number, but the use of diverse elements gave the proteus no time to adapt to any specific one. It partially de-differentiated as it flowed backward. 
The mage took this as an advantage. The proteus was still largely liquid, although it was rapidly forming new mouths and eyes in preparation for a new attack. It appeared confused, and was trying to build itself a larger brain- -if only it could remember how. 
The armored mage charged. As she did, though, the proteus revealed that it was not natural-born; it had once been a pony, and it had known enough to feint. Walls of flesh closed in around her, forming a crescent of thick, cracked skin. The rest came forward like a wave, the cracks in its armored skin tearing open into gaping mouths.
In another flash of blue, the mage teleported out of the way. The proteus had learned already, though. Its body swelled and rippled as it filled with fluid. When the mage reappeared, it exploded outward from hundreds of holes, pouring caustic, reeking acid in every direction. Sombra blocked the splatter from himself and Luciferian, but the mage had just come out of her teleportation and had not yet had time to regain her footing. The acid hit her mask, coating it deeply. When she reached to clear it, a pair of massive pincers closed around her, ending the fight in an instant. 
In another flash of blue, the mage teleported out of the way. The proteus had learned already, though. Its body swelled and rippled as it filled with fluid. When the mage reappeared, it exploded outward from hundreds of holes, pouring caustic, reeking acid in every direction. Sombra blocked the splatter from himself and Luciferian, but the mage had just come out of her teleportation and had not yet had time to regain her footing. Yet the acid never struck her. Instead, her body flashed out of the teleportation in a blur, turning at various right angles at a pace too fast to see to avoid every drop of liquid. Before she had even stopped, her blur split into four.
The blurs charged toward the proteus, each attacking from a different angle and stopping only long enough for Sombra to see yet another spell he had not witnessed for several centuries. The mage had replicated herself. 
Working in unison, the duplicates formed a powerful spell- -the sort that required at least six mages, all performing a different and exceedingly complex set of highly dissimilar calculations- -and executed it flawlessly. Their spell struck the creature from every angle, and it let out a deafening list of fern species as it condensed into a sphere. 
The proteus had been momentarily blinded. It could not see the exact location of its opponent, for risk of dropping its armor, but its internal sensors were still intact. So it identified and locked onto the most powerful magic signal in the area. 
Half of the sphere opened as a vast, fleshy flower. A plume of venomous, serrated needles of bone shot outward- -toward princess Penumbra. 
“NO!” boomed Sombra, standing violently as he cast a spell to protect her. 
His speed was too slow, though. The proteus’s aim was true, and its mark was struck in the center of the chest, her armor cleaved in twain as the lethal spine entered her chest.
he proteus had been momentarily blinded. It could not see the exact location of its opponent, for risk of dropping its armor, but its internal sensors were still intact. So it identified and locked onto the most powerful magic signal in the area. 
The armored mage’s horn glowed, and an impenetrable wall of magic formed in front of princess Penumbra and Crozea in the second tier of the arena. 
Half of the sphere opened as a vast, fleshy flower. A plume of venomous, serrated needles of bone shot outward- -toward princess Penumbra. 
“NO!” boomed Sombra, standing violently as he cast a spell to protect her. 
His speed was too slow, though- -and it was fortunate that the armored mage’s shield held true. One of the spines failed to vaporize, its tip stopped mere inches from the jewel in Penumbra’s chestplate. 
Luciferian suddenly stood. “That isn’t possible,” he said, largely to himself. “She’s reacting events before they happen! If only...yes...” His own horn began to glow, and he began to summon numerous geometric, gear-like figures before him. He was conducting a spell based on a forgotten school of magic, one that he had learned from texts but that could never be practiced beyond only the most banal rudiments of its elegant theory. Those rudiments, he reasoned, might just be enough. 
The mage’s duplicates merged back into herself, and she slowly began to step back, giving herself proper spacing for a simple wide-range inferno spell. The proteus flower turned toward her, writhing as a large eye opened within it. The remainder burst outward into waves of slender arms that dragged the creature forward on their numerous hands. 
The armored mage fired her spell- -but as she did, the proteus played its trump-card. Its entire body spit open, revealing a forest of flesh that hardened into conical horns. Each charged with a pale green light and fired simultaneously.
The impact was pure force, but was powerful enough to not only to turn the inferno spell, but cause an exponential backfire. The resulting blast was so powerful that it tore through half the arena, destroying a number of buildings on the outside and cutting a swath through the city.
The mage’s duplicates merged back into herself, and she slowly began to step back, giving herself proper spacing for a wide-angle shield dome. The proteus flower turned toward her, writhing as a large eye opened within it. The remainder burst outward into waves of slender arms that dragged the creature forward on their numerous hands. The mage was so preoccupied that she did not notice that this time, someone else had come back with her. 
The armored mage fired her spell- -but as she did, the proteus played its trump card. Its entire body spit open, revealing a forest of flesh that hardened into conical horns. Each charged with a pale green light and fired simultaneously.
“STOP!” cried Twilight Luciferian, suddenly standing. His horn glowed, and a massive wall of violet light formed across the whole of the arena, instantly stopping the proteus’s spell. As he ran toward the edge of the arena pit, he absently forced the proteus backward, surrounding it with an additional five plates of magic to trap it in a glowing violet cube. Although it raged and twisted with all its might, it could not even cause the slightest motion in the spell that now entrapped it. 
“What is the meaning of this?” demanded Sombra, standing as well. 
Twilight Luciferian burst out in laughter, although he did not take his eyes off the mage. “Did you see it? You had to have seen it! She’s reacting to its attacks before they happen!” He exposed his own spell to both the mage and Sombra. His pupils had narrowed into tiny points. “I confirmed it! She’s not foreseeing it; every time she fails, she JUMPS BACK IN TIME!” 
Sombra’s eyes narrowed. “Are you absolutely sure?”
Luciferian laughed again. “YES! I confirmed it- -she’s a chronoplexer! A time wizard!” 
“That is impossible.” Sombra himself looked at the mage. “Even the Twin Goddesses cannot alter the flow of time. Only one chronoplexer has ever been born to Equestria, and this mare is certainly not Starswirl the Bearded.” 
“Well, clearly there are two!” Luciferian turned sharply toward the armored mare. “It explains everything! That suit? It’s meant to prevent temporal shear when she jumps. And the reason she doesn’t talk? She can’t. She must have traveled to the future at some point. Without the gift of prophecy, a single misplaced word could produce a paradox that would tear time itself apart!” 
“Is this true?” asked Sombra. 
The mare did not nod or make any gesture. Luciferian grinned. “She can’t even nod. Even the slightest gesture of communication could produce foreknowledge.” He looked up at Sombra. “Sire. Please. This is not an opportunity we can let slip by! Of all the magical skills, chronoplexy is the rarest. The next mage able to alter time might not be born for another thousand years. Of all the possible candidates, this is the one I recommend the most.”
“A mute armored mare?” Sombra reached the edge of the arena and stared down. “A mare with the offensive and defensive capacity of a freshly minted but mediocre mage-graduate. She is hardly the soldier I requested. Are you sure you do not want to revise your choice?”
“No, my king. I stand firm.”
“And you, Eternity?”
“I never thought it would happen, but I agree,” replied the unseen voice. “She has spunk. But the fact that I can’t reach her mind concerns me. So do ants. I hate ants SO MUCH.” 
“So both of you support this candidate.” Sombra eyed the armored mare. “I see. I have also seen. That despite her weak disposition, her skill was so prodigious that she was able to perform spells I thought lost to time. Even among the dark unicorns of old, those skills were rare.”
Sombra’s body flashed with a bubble of red, and a fiery equivalent sphere appeared before the chronoplexer. Sombra emerged, having teleported to her, and loomed over her, casting a deep shadow. 
He smiled, and his horn glowed with red light. The entire arena exploded with blinding red light. Luciferian’s spells holding the proteus shattered, and the creature was vaporized. Sombra then lowered the sphere of dark fusion and leveled it directly into the armored mage’s face.
Sombra’s body flashed with a bubble of red, and a fiery equivalent sphere appeared before the chronoplexer. Sombra emerged, having teleported to her, and loomed over her, casting a deep shadow. Before he could fully regain his footing, though, the mage had already leapt up and struck Sombra in the horn, sending him reeling back.
“My lord!” cried Luciferian.
“Father!” cried Penumbra, barely audible- -just barely- -from the top level.  
Sombra shook his head, regaining his balance, and laughed. The force had actually been great enough to fracture his horn, and he tore away the broken end. It collapsed into dust as a new horn quickly regrew. 
“Excellent,” he said, laughing softly. “You truly can see the future, and react to compensate. No doubt you have also now seen the extent of my own power. So I offer you a single, final choice. You do not need to speak. If you wish to leave, you may turn and depart. None her will pursue you.”
“My lord, we can’t let her get away- -”
“NONE. You will be free to go. Perhaps you will go to aid the Twins. Perhaps you will use your power to serve yourself. But I shall give you advice, from my long experience. Leave now. Do not bother becoming a warrior, or a master wizard. Retire. Find a husband, or wife. Live free in a small farm, raise foals. Let your life be peaceful and pleasant until my armies plunge this planet into darkness. If you are lucky, that will not be in your lifetime.” He paused. “Or, if you choose, join me. Become Thirteen, and stand at my side with the other twelve. You will be asked to do terrible things. Things that would haunt all but the strongest-willed to the point of madness. Or beyond. Your power will be greater than that of any mortal pony, but your life likely short, and hard. If your soul is already in ruin beyond redemption, then elect to stay. But I do not recommend it, if you value anything at all save for magic and strength alone.”
The mage stared at Sombra for a long moment. She raised one hoof, as if to turn, but then lowered it. She remained planted where she stood.
A smile crossed Sombra’s face. “So be it. Your name shall from henceforth be Thirteen of Thirteen, for you are the only one who will ever know the name you once had. It is best you forget it. Welcome to the Crystal Empire, and to your new home.”