//------------------------------// // 1: Sombra // Story: No Second Chances // by MayhemMoth //------------------------------// Sombra Time works strangely when you’re dead. There was still the concept of day and night thanks to the regular settings of the Sun and Moon, but the overall passage of time had become irrelevant. The dead didn’t age, didn’t hunger, and though we were affected by some sort of lethargy, we never truly slept. Our senses were all dulled, or nonexistent, and most could never actually remember how long we’ve been dead. And though I distinctly remembered my own death, painful and violent as it was, I was one of many who couldn’t remember how long ago it had happened. The fact I spent the first few years of my afterlife in a blind rage certainly didn’t help.  Of course, none of that mattered anymore. Once I accepted the fact I was dead, I truly learned the meaning of the saying ‘what’s done is done’. And quite frankly, what was ‘done’ was my life, and my reign of terror. Surprisingly, I had accepted that much quicker than expected. Because another thing I’d learned in death was that the other creatures of the accursed Canterlot Castle had suffered much worse fates than my own. Fates they hadn’t deserved.  I was talking with one such pony right now. “Do you think she’s happy out there?” She asked, head tilted innocently as she gazed outside, watching the ponies in the garden finish their work for the day, “Do you think she grew up to be happy and healthy, and even had some foals of her own?” “But of course,” I nodded, staring out the window with her, “I’ve heard tales of your little one, of how powerful her cries were even as the tiniest of foals. Even if you’re no longer with her, I’m sure your daughter is out there with a wonderful family of her own, safe and loved and happy.” The pony, a pale green mare who would’ve still been considered a filly by today’s standards, smiled happily. She might’ve even cried tears of joy if she could have. I wanted to be happy with her, to continue telling her that her beloved filly was out in the world living happily with her own family, but even with as many times I’ve repeated these assurances, there was a painful truth to it. I was lying.  Her filly had never cried at all.  Though I’ve heard her side of the story many times, the other spirits had been sure to tell me of her plight, as they’d been there to witness it. They’d heard her scream, they’d heard her cry, and worst of all, they’d seen the corpse of that tiny foal, born too soon as she left her mother’s dying body. It was a horrible thing to even think about. “I hope she comes to Canterlot some day,” She said, “I’d love to see what she looks like.” I nodded, not able to say anymore. I wouldn’t even know if her child would’ve still been alive, she seemed to have died centuries ago, but I couldn’t say that either. Wasn’t it ironic how I’d been a liar and manipulator in life, but now found lying painful? It was strange how much things could change, but I could never dare to tell the truth now, the truth didn’t matter when you were dead. A mother who died in childbirth did not deserve to hear that her child perished with her, not when the belief that they were alive kept her from turning into something mournful. After all, in my time in helping my subjects I’d learned that it was acceptance that helped the dead move on, and a loving mother would never accept that her baby was gone. I tried not to dwell on it, gazing back out the window. The garden was laid out before us, the labyrinth of hedges and flowers outstretched like a rainbow as far as the eye could see. To any pony wandering the halls, it was a lovely sight they took for granted. For my subjects and I, it was a reminder of what we could no longer reach. Sometimes I wondered if there were more spirits out there. I knew at least one of my subjects had died in the garden, and could wander between it and the castle at will, but those of us who had perished within its walls were stuck. I’ve heard rumors that a powerful enough spirit could  possess the living and escape, but most who had tried weren’t strong enough to succeed, and having had enough of the danger, I forbid any more attempts.  My duty was to protect them, and revealing our existence by possession of all things was far too risky for every being involved. I’ve already broken my own rules by befriending the Princess’ student, and then ever so foolishly allowing my subjects to befriend her as well. I suppose I missed being alive, and having somepony around who could still experience such wonders made me drop my guard. Well, that and her insatiable curiosity. She was so curious about us, and though she had agitated me at first, I grew to enjoy her antics.  But of course, Little Luster was gone now. Not from the land the living, thank goodness, but from the castle. That meant she was out of reach and out of contact, and I couldn’t remember how long it had been since she was last here with my ignorance to time. It couldn’t have been too long, the same guards that patrolled the halls when she was here still walked them today, and none had shown any obvious signs of aging. It felt like far longer than it was, and though I hated to admit it, I missed her nightly visits. Even with my subjects, the throne room felt empty at night. “King Sombra? Did you hear me?” I shook my head, clearing the memories away as I snapped back to my sad reality. The sun had lowered significantly since I had first started staring outside, and the spirit beside me had become understandably concerned. “I’m sorry,” I said, putting a hoof to my head as that accursed phantom fatigue began to overtake me, “I must have gotten distracted.” Did my mind always wander this much? I can’t remember. The spirit came forward, lowering my hoof before placing her own on my forehead, as if checking my temperature. We both knew it wouldn’t do anything, but the gesture still felt like it meant something. “You’ve used up too much energy,” She said, shaking her head. I couldn’t remember her name. Did I even know her name? “How many others have you tried to help today?” I shrugged with a grunt, “It doesn’t matter who I try to help if I don’t successfully help.” She took her hoof away, crossing her arms like a disappointed mother and saying, “Well, you’re not gonna help anypony if you drive yourself to vengefulness!” “But-” “No buts,” She jabbed a hoof into my chest, an action that might have made me flinch had I been alive, though her voice softened, “We all love you Sombra, and though we appreciate what you’re trying to do, it’s more than obvious you’re overdoing it. You need to take some time to rest, you’re still one of the fresher spirits, remember?” I frowned, unsure on what to argue back. I’d been dead for at least two decades, or at least I think I have been, though that was still  little more than the blink of an eye to some of the others. After all, prior to my reign, there was at least one Pegasus who’d been haunting this castle for nearly a millennium.  “You haven’t been dead for that long either,” I argued. It was a weak one, and possibly untrue. She jabbed me again. “Rest. Now.” Rather immaturely, I stuck my tongue out at her, but I did as I was told. Staggering to my hooves, I bid her a grunt of farewell, and made my way to wherever the halls took me.  ‘Sleep’ was a thing that I no longer partook in, and for some reason, I actually missed it. Resting was something a little harder to describe, it was as if we just stopped existing for a brief while. I would still be unconsciously aware of the noises around me, and if needed, one of my subjects could rouse me, but overall it was what death should truly be. Quiet. Peaceful. Undisturbed. Something that none of us had the gift of truly knowing.  I wandered the halls blindly, mostly unaware of my surroundings. I didn’t have to risk crashing into anything or anybody, I could phase right through them with little more than a shudder on their behalf, though I usually tried to avoid it best I could. Right now I was too far into exhaustion to care. I just needed a nice, quiet place to rest, where neither the living or my own subjects could disturb me. “King Sombra?” I didn’t even try to keep the frustrated snarl from escaping me, raising my head to see just who exactly decided to disturb me at the worst possible moment. Unsurprisingly, it was the one spirit who, despite being one of the many subjects I’d sworn to help, also happened to be my least favorite one to be around. A dirt brown Earth stallion, and the only pony to die in this castle after me, right at the cusp of the transition of royalty. With my current fog, I couldn’t remember his name, but I could remember that we both disliked each other.  “What do you want?” I demanded. He stepped back, as if worried I’d snap at him. I wasn’t sure if I could blame him, he’d seen first hoof what I could do when I was alive. That fear meant it took him far too long to speak again, and I was about to turn tail and ignore him before he finally spoke. “It’s about Deadbolt,” He said. I couldn’t actually remember who that was, or even if they were one of my subjects, “He’s been acting rather odd around Flicker Fade, and it’s making me nervous.” “I’m not exactly in a position to remember who either of those creatures are,” I muttered. The stallion pawed a hoof. “Deadbolt's a guard, and Flicker Fade's a castle chef, remember?” He asked. I shook my head. “Flicker's a Pegasus, and Deadbolt's a Unicorn. They’ve been working here since before you took over. I used to be Deadbolt’s friend up until…” He trailed off, and I remembered enough. Though the stallion’s name still eluded me, I remembered why he was here, and it was all because of an unfaithful partner. Still, we were limited on what we could do about this, and I had to remind him, “You know we can’t do anything about that, right? We’re not to be meddling in the lives of the living, no matter the circumstance.” His tail swished, a worthless gesture of a feeling that served little purpose anymore, “But what if we did? We could bring him to justice, we could keep him from wronging anyone else! I just don’t think-” I stamped my hoof, hard enough that even the living could hear the faintest echo of the resounding thump, “We can not bring him to justice, because we have no proof! Materializing before anyone to claim that another wronged you is nothing more than a recipe for disaster, and an assumed illusion! Do you even know where your body is located?” He didn’t. Very few of my subjects knew of what became of their oh so glorious meat suits. Typically, death was traumatizing enough that small details like that were irrelevant, most were too busy being emotionally unstable and lost. And to add insult to the stallion’s injury, as far as I remembered, no one actually knew he was dead.  “You materialized before Luster Dawn,” He argued.  Between my exhaustion and growing impatience for his insolence, that was the tipping point for my frustration. I practically launched myself at him, fangs bared as a feral cry escaped me. He barely had time to move, and I pinned him down, his terror bringing a familiar and almost intoxicating feeling inside of me.  “What mistakes I have made compare little to the one you wish to make,” I whispered. I could feel my form dissipating, fading back into the unstable mishmash of shadow I was when I had first woken up, “And though I may not be able to stop you from making it, let it be known that if you do reveal yourself to the living just for the sake of justice, I’ll be sure to make the rest of your afterlife an absolute nightmare.” Evidently, I was still very much an unstable spirit. I had every intention of saving every creature I could, but sometimes, especially under such severe duress, I would revert back to that near vengeful form. It always made me feel even worse. On the plus side, it got the stallion to back off. I removed myself as he nodded, slowly reforming back into what I was supposed to be, though everything was even more muddled than it had been before. I was even beginning to forget what I’d been so furious about. “I would appreciate it if you would pester me later,” I muttered, swaying, “I need to rest.” It was evident, I was sure, and he wordlessly nodded again. With that, he finally left, and I continued on my quest for peace. I wandered the halls even more blindly than I had before, phasing through everything and anything, desperate to find a silent room to rest in. There were so many around, yet they weren’t right, and I wandered much further than I should have. Eventually, I found a room. One that, from the looks of things, had been abandoned for weeks. It was still well furnished, with a bed and shelves, covered in books and photos of ponies. There were a lot of them, the most notable a photo orange stallion and a pink mare, a small & familiar filly with a pink coat and sunshine hair between them, who’s name suddenly eluded me.  I wanted to remember. I tried to remember. But I was just so tired, and everything was so foggy and frustrating and oh I hated how hard it was to remember anything when I was in such a state. I hated how hard it was to control emotions, how hard it was to cling to the memories that had made me who I was, how hard it was to remember myself. I hated being dead. But I couldn’t change that. There was no last ditch curse to keep me alive, and no manipulative Chaos Lord to resurrect me for his own selfish gains, just the constant reminder that I’d made the worst possible choices in life and was forced to endure this fate.  I’m so tired. At least I’d used this opportunity to help others, instead of hurt them. I couldn’t remember why I made that choice.  I’m so, so tired. Curling up in the corner, I tried to rack my brain for memories. Of what, I wasn’t sure, but I got little more than blurs and words that meant nothing to me. I’m sure they’d come back, they always did. I think they did. Why am I tired? I wish I could remember. Nothing feels right, if I can feel anything at all.  I’m fading away now.  I’m sure I’ll be back soon.