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// Chapter 46: Oncoming War 
// Story: The Life of Penumbra Heartbreak 
// by Unwhole Hole 
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The plan was, of course, ludicrous. It was absurd, and likely impossible, and Luciferian was terrified. Except that it hardly mattered. He had been terrified most of his life; he had learned to accept that constant fear and defy it. Like all the Twilights, he was forsaken: he was alone, and would be forever. What he created was his own. 
Perhaps he had grown desperate. Insane, even. Time was running short. He had been forced to abandon normal routes and normal timing. It was, in a way, surreal. Nothing Sombra could do could hurt him, as he had nothing left to take- -or that could be taken. But his own pain was irrelevant. Only his success, and the throne he would sit upon. The throne that had been prophesied to him. 
Thirteen led him through the darkness. The pony who he had helped hire. Now, he supposed, she outranked her, if only in the hierarchy of a kingdom that was crumbling alongside its king. The Nameless One had gone. Luciferian had not seen it go. Where it went, no one knew. Why it had come- -and why it ever did- -was likewise a mystery. Not that it mattered. 
Nekros walked quietly behind them. Her role, perhaps, was still not understood by and large. Not that it mattered. She was meant to be exceedingly temporary. 
The mute armored pony brought Luciferian to the throne room. He could not help but smile when he saw it, as he knew that soon- -very soon- -it would be his. 
The others had already been called. Crozea, Buttonhooks, Scarlet Mist, in a new body; Emeth, and no doubt the Infiltrator Chrysalis, somewhere. 
And at the top of the throne, beside his steward, sat what remained of Sombra. Luciferian gave pause, not sure if he should burst out laughing or feel a twinge of empathy for the pony who, in truth, he had spent most of his life looking up to.
Sombra’s body seemed to have become afflicted by the full weight of his eight-century existence. His mane had turned white, and his body had begun to shrivel and dry- -and yet the effect was not quite that of an elderly stallion. That was the most hideous part. He still maintained the look of youth as he aged, and the effect was deeply disturbing and profoundly unnatural. The thing that sat atop the throne barely looked like a pony at all. 
“Huh. Looks like I really did win the battle.”
“Hardly.” Sombra’s voice was paradoxically clear, as if it did not belong with his collapsing body. “This was not your doing, Twilight. And from the look of you? You are in much worse form than I.” His eyes slowly turned to the shadows behind Luciferian, to where Nekro was standing. A look of hideous recognition crossed his face, and Luciferian smiled, believing it to be pain. Yet he was afraid, because, in truth, it was an emotion that no normal being would ever know. 
“What have you done?”
Nekro stepped forward. She shunned the robes her former self had used to hide his distorted body. She instead wore nothing at all. 
She looked up to Sombra, and a look of recognition crossed her own face. She smiled. Across the room, Crozea shuddered, not from horror but from understanding. Because she had been there that day, and she knew; that smile only confirmed what she had always suspected. That there existed- -or had existed- -a pony who could give the king what she never could. 
“My king,” she said. “I am called Nekro. Until an hour ago, I was Necrophilo of Canterlot. My body was unfortunately damaged beyond repair in the battle with Twilight Luciferian. I was forced to transfer to the nearest suitable one.”
“Of all the forms, you chose her?”
“You had given me this body to do with as I saw fit. To study, and to be tossed away. But I must ask. What did this mare mean to you?” She looked up at him, her yellowed eyes quivering. “Did you love her?”
“I love nothing and no one. I am not capable of it. She was just another thing to be used.”
“She loved you. Please, know that.”
“No. She did not. She betrayed me and birthed a usurper. Speak one more word, dame Nekro, and you will require another body. I have no qualms about disposing of that one. I already did once.” 
Nekro smiled. “Of course, my king.” Only Crozea saw her wipe something from her eye. 
Sombra turned his head slowly- -and with great difficulty- -to face Luciferian. “Further...your presence here disturbs me, Twilight. It disturbs me because I cannot fathom why you would return. Perhaps you have grown desperate? Because there is no hope here nor anywhere for you. There is not a cure for your affliction that will not lead to a fate infinitely more terrible.” 
“Why would I ask you? I’ve already proven I’m stronger.”
“You lost the duel,” said Buttonhooks, stepping forward. “In accordance with the rules, I have determined- -”
“That there is some meaningless bureaucratic loophole I’m sure. My spell was a LEGITIMATE summoning- -”
“You have no idea the danger you put the kingdom in!” snapped the steward.
“While SOMBRA, not I, enlisted the help of a pony who was NOT EVEN A UNICORN.”
“He is technically correct,” said Emeth, apparently amused by the situation. “Not that it matters. A discussion of dueling regulations is purely academic. I think you are not so ignorant as to believe that there would not be further implications of your behavior.” 
Luciferian smiled, showing half of his blackened teeth. “Oh yes. I am very familiar with the idea of consequences. I do not need to be told it by a MACHINE.” He stepped forward. Scarlet Mist did so as well, blocking him from drawing any closer. 
“Trying to seek a new body, Mist? This one is a little bit rotted. I don’t think you want it.” 
“I never liked you,” she said. “That stupid smile, how sure you are of yourself. You remind me of the part of me I’ll never get back. So smug. You’ve come for the princess, haven’t you?”
“Angry that you couldn’t get your claws into her, perhaps? Or so ashamed you can’t even look her in the eye?” 
Luciferian shoved her out of the way. “Why did I come here, Sombra? I came here for the war.”
Sombra’s eyes narrowed. “What did you say?”
“Celestia and Nightmare Moon are dispatching their armies as we speak. They know how weak you’ve become, and they intend to depose you while they still have the chance. They have already begun marching. The siege begins in a day at most, perhaps two. Probably less.”
Crozea stepped forward. “Of these events, we have been given no clues; how did one like yourself discover this news?”
“That should be obvious. I orchestrated it.”
Of those present in the room, only Buttonhooks gasped. The surprise was clear on Sombra’s face, though, but perhaps not because this was an unexpected turn of events.
“I see. So you truly do have a penchant for disloyalty.”
“Disloyalty? I was exiled. I no longer work for you. As an independent actor, no one has a right to my loyalty. By definition.” 
“And you tell us here, and now?” asked Scarlet Mist. “Why? What are you planing?”
“Call it a gesture of transparency. My time is short. We all knew it was inevitable. I simply motivated it to occur faster. The way I see it, there are two possible outcomes. One, Sombra turns out to be far too weak to lead his kingdom and the sisters win. In the ensuing chaos of the collapsing government, Twilight Luciferian, the hero who fought Sombra from behind the lines, rises to power, negotiating a peace with the Crystal Empire as a vassal state.”
“With him at the head, I suppose.”
“Of course. I can always attack them later, after all.” A smile crossed his face. “Or, maybe the opposite happens. The Princesses were led into a trap, and Sombra ends their tyranny once and for all. As Equestria crumbles, former heroic saboteur Twilight Luciferian forms a new government with him as king. I’m not picky, Sombra. There is nothing special about the Crystal Empire. Canterlot would be just fine...” 
“And if neither occurs?”
Luciferian sneered. “You really intend to sue for peace? You truly are weak, aren’t you? No, Sombra. You can’t get out of it that easy. Somepony is getting deposed. And from the look of it, probably you.”
“Sire,” said the steward. “Please. I know it is beyond me but it must be said. We cannot prosecute a war at present, we simply don’t...have...” Her eyes were drawn to something on the far end of the room. Slowly, the remainder of the eyes turned to see what it was.
At first there was nothing apart from shadow. Then each of them saw the reflection of a pair of tiny yellow eyes. Eyes belonging to a single raven. 
The raven opened its beak, and its voice cracked as a horrible sound emanated from its throat. A sound that was just barely intelligible, a dry scream spoken through organs that were never meant for such sounds.
“Somb...BRA!”
Crozea took a step back, because she was the only one sensitive enough to realize the extent of the horror that stood before her, of what had been done and the atrocity against nature that had been committed. 
“The...ma...CHINE! It...w...w...WORKS!”
Nekro gasped. “By Hecate...”
Even Luciferian stared wide-eyed. He had not anticipated this. It fit in his plan, of course, but he had not expected this- -and knew that it could change everything. 
Emeth took a step forward, and the raven’s glassy eyes stared up at him. “Gxurab?” 
The air suddenly exploded with the sound of wings. From the shadows, hundreds of ravens and crows swarmed into the room, spiraling through the air and screeching as if in agony. Then, in unison, they landed. 
“It...WORKS!” screamed one.
“The ma...ma...CHINE!” cried another.
“Works! WORKS! I...used...”
Even Sombra looked sickened at the horror before him. “You tested it on yourself.”
“On...LY...way be...be SURE! Has to...wo- -RK! For king!”
“FOR KING!” screamed several separate crows. Their voice was already growing more consistent. It was almost like Al’Hrabnaz’s own. A voice that he would never speak in again. 
Each and every one understood what he had done. They did not need prompting or explanation. Gxurab Al’Hrabnaz was no more, his body no doubt destroyed by his own creation. Yet his soul lived on, bound forever in material form.”
Sombra stood. 
“My king!” cried the steward, steadying him.
“Time is short, Al’Hrabnaz. Is there enough power remaining?”
“Yes. As...as promised.”
“Then your timing is excellent, as always.” Sombra turned his eyes to Luciferian, and he smiled. The smile chilled Luciferian to the bone. “You understand things poorly, Twilight. You are too young. Because there is indeed a third option. You would betray the goddess for your own city? Hardly, if there are no cities left beyond my own reach. Manifest the wife you have chosen. Because that fate will be more merciful than the one you shall be given.”
Luciferian bared his teeth, but said nothing. 
“Gxurab,” ordered Sombra. “Make haste. Prepare your machine, for it may be our only hope. And though I am loathe to give the order...” Sombra sighed. “The aggression of the tyrants has forced my hoof. I hereby order the remainder of you to prepare for war.”
“We would gladly fight for your honor,” declared the steward, proudly. 
Sombra nodded to her. “I will be indisposed until my condition is cured. So I hereby appoint you, my steward, as Field Marshal.”
“Would it really do to appoint an earth-pony to that position?”
Sombra’s head snapped to Luciferian. “You were unhorned not so long ago, if I recall. At least she had the dignity to hold her head high instead of stealing one from another.” 
He turned to the ravens, and there was something purely hideous in that action: an old, decaying remnant of a pony, with the look of a  young stallion aged a thousand years, staring into the yellow eyes of carrion birds- -and each and every one of them staring back, and the fragments of the soul they had feasted on staring back through them.
“My fate rests in you now. The fate of the kingdom. Do not fail me,  Al’Hrabnaz.”
Luciferian shivered, because he could have sworn he saw the ravens smile.