//------------------------------//
// The Legend of The Crytsal Empire 
// Story: The King of Fire and Smoke 
// by Laarsgaard 
//------------------------------//

	In our great land of Equestria there are many tales. Some are of our greatest heroes like the bearers of the Elements who banished darkness time and time again. There are stories of our great princesses who had once fought tooth and nail at one another’s throats over the empire and eventually banishment of the younger only to return a thousand years later to be championed. But of all of the tales we have, out of all of those stories, I feel the greatest tales, the ones that are the truest, are the ones of our villains.





The most prominent would obviously be Nightmare Moon who threatened to bury our land in night eternal. There was Queen Chrysalis and her horde of changelings that almost defeated us and sucked all of the love from us. Discord, a manic, insane creature that was a master at his craft, it was interesting to see one such as he at work.

But in my mind there is one villain, one evil being who will always stick out as more dangerous, angrier and for more deadly to deal with than any of these other villains: Sombra.


Archimedes stood some distance from his lord. The king stood on his balcony and looked out over the land his father had left him. Sombra brooded as he looked out over the vast fields and villages that was his kingdom. The kingdom was dying, withering on the vine as it failed to produce enough food year after year.

The dead lay about in the streets. Mothers wept over their still born children. Disease had begun to spread throughout the homes of the last city of the great northern kingdom. It didn’t matter status or power the Red Fever, as the commoners called it, claimed any and all who knocked at its door.

The old king had died two weeks ago today and it weighed heavily on the new dread lord. Archimedes stood his silent vigil waiting for the king to speak. His mind was heavy and Archimedes knew what thoughts weighed him down the most.

“Archimedes.” The new king said softly. The chaplain stepped forward quietly.

“Yes my lord?” he asked politely. Sombra turned from the balcony to look at the holy man.

Archimedes was always unsure of what to think of the young king’s features ever since he had been a child. His hair was long and black as the dead night sky. His eyes were bright, neon green with red irises that glowed with intensity. Purple mist flowed out of his eyes and came to points just behind the king’s ears. The mist flowed and moved on its own as if they were living creatures. The king’s actual face was rather handsome with strong features. A strong jaw was complimented with a neatly trimmed goatee. The crown that had, up until recently, been his father’s was placed on his head.

The crown was a beautiful work of art in its own right. It was made of platinum and inlaid with precious gems and mother of pearl. There was a massive singular horn that jutted from the front making the wearer appear rather intimidating.

The king stepped from the balcony into his private chamber. Archimedes closed the massive drape behind him to block out the cold.

The king was still dressed in his formal attire and his boots rang off of the cold stone floor. The fireplace had gone out hours ago as the king had stood and watched his dying home.

The king walked over to the dead fireplace. He snapped his fingers and a fire came to life, lighting up the large room and adding some much needed warmth. Sombra place his hand on the mantle and laid his forehead on the cool stone.

“My father had you working on something.” The king began. “Something more important than anything else you had ever worked on before.” He said. Archimedes nodded. 

“Yes lord. The project was an intense one and near completion. We were going to put it to use but you father…” Archimedes paused. Sombra looked at him, those green orbs boring into the chaplain. “Your father passed before it could was seen all the way through.” The holy man finished.

“Tell me.” Sombra said. Archimedes nodded.

“May I sit your grace?” he asked politely. Sombra motioned to one of the two oversized chairs placed in front of the fireplace. Archimedes slumped into one letting out an enormous sigh.

“Your grace,” the chaplain began. Sombra looked at him. “I would suggest you sit for this.” Sombra sat on the edge of the open seat and made his fingers into a steeple. The king didn’t say anything he just stared at the holy man.
Archimedes sat up a bit and clasped his hands.

“The project your father had us working on is a rather interesting one and some would question the ethics of it.” Sombra raised an eyebrow. This was not exactly the best way to start a story. Archimedes continued on.

“My lord,” he gestured at Sombra. “If you would remember back to when your mother had died, how distant and odd you father had behaved.” Sombra brought his fingers under his chin and leaned back in the overstuffed chair. His thoughts flashed back to when he was a child holding his father’s hand while he stood before his mother’s pyre.

Sombra had never seen his father Damascus cry or show any emotion of any kind. The closest was the lack of command and anger he showed when talking to either his son or his wife. Sombra still remembered the heat from that fire as he watched his mother’s corpse burn before him.

The old king had knelt down next to his son.

“Remember son.” Damascus said. “There are only two people you can truly trust in this world.” Sombra nodded. The old king went on. “You can trust Archimedes, and you can trust yourself.” He said simply. Damascus stood again and took his son’s hand the only display of affection that he had ever truly shown to his son. 

Sombra leaned forward in his chair. 

“I remember,” Sombra turned his head to look into Archimedes’ eyes. “He said you were the only other person I could trust besides myself.” Archimedes nodded.

“Your father had a lot of confidence in me and my abilities.” The old chaplain chuckled. “I’ll never know why though, I am just a simple man of god and science.” Sombra looked at the old chaplain. 

“If he had faith in you my friend, then I shall continue to trust his judgment.” The King stated. “Now please continue.” Archimedes nodded.

“After your mother passed he became obsessed over a legend he heard of when he was a young man.” Sombra thought about his father. 

The old king had died at the age of a thousand. Not due to old age but an accident involving armory forge. The fire had been glorious.

Sombra fingered the edge of the cloak that his father had left him. It was deep red fringed in white. The clasp was a series of armor plates the covered the back of the neck and came together at the throat. Sombra had to think of how long ago it would have been for his father to be considered a young man.

“An enormous project off of just a hunch?” Sombra raised his eyebrow at Archimedes. Archimedes adjusted himself in the chair so as to lean on the arm of the chair. 

“More than a hunch, your grace, a legend.” Sombra was unimpressed. Archimedes went on.

“Legends are such strange things for beings such as us. We tend to discredit them while secretly,” the old chaplain raised a finger. “Secretly we want there to be some truth to the story.” Archimedes looked into the fire. “You father was looking for truth when he set out on his journey.”

“You mean the five years that he left he was out looking for this legend?”

“Quite your grace, he found some interesting things on that journey.”

“Tell me.” Commanded the king, Archimedes nodded.

“The king had come across a legend when he was a young man, a little younger than you are now in fact. The story tells of an empire to the south of here where immortality had been achieved, where the people have cheated death for thousands of years.” Sombra nodded.

“The Crystal Empire.” He said.

“Yes,” Archimedes said, pointing his finger to strengthen his point. “The Crystal Empire.” 

“But those are all just stories.” Sombra said, readjusting himself in his seat. Archimedes shook his head.

“It is far more than a story, your grace, the Crystal Empire if very much real.” Sombra’s eyes widened.

“Then-“ Sombra trailed off, Archimedes nodded again.

“They truly are immortal.”

Sombra looked into the flames. This changed everything.

“What was the experiment about?” the king asked. Archimedes turned to look into the flames.

“The experiment was to see if we could achieve the same thing as the citizens of the Crystal Empire.” Sombra turned his head. Archimedes went on. “Your father brought home thousands of small crystals that had energy enough for a small star inside of them. We had a laboratory constructed beneath the dungeons which you know of.

“We spent the next few years looking at the crystals and what we could do with them. Now we use the power the crystals have given us in almost everything, no one knows about it though.” Archimedes turned to Sombra. “Smelting, smithing, black powder usage and milling, all of it has some new magical properties that improve it in some little way because of the power we get from the crystals.” Archimedes leaned in close to Sombra. “That, however, was just one of our breakthroughs. The King wanted immortality; he wanted to be a god amongst men. Surprisingly, his first goal after his achievement of immortality was to empower his people.” 

Sombra raised an eyebrow at that. The old king was anything but a benevolent and caring ruler. Sombra remembered when he was around the ages of ten or eleven his father had him sit on of the many balconies that looked down on the lands below where the commoners lived.

“They are cattle.” He said plainly. “You are the farmer. It is your job to make sure that they don’t get out of line and that they are fed and watered and in return they will give you milk and meat, but remember, they are still stupid cattle and you hold their lives in your hand.” Sombra had nodded.

His father had been a brutally simple man. Sombra remembered the executions had taken place on the spot in his throne room. The bloodstain ten paces from the throne would never come out. Sombra looked at Archimedes.

“Empower the people you say. Well you knew his mind best, why?” Archimedes stared into the flames.

“His argument was that a god should only rule over kings.” Sombra nodded. That sounded like his father for sure.

“What was the next step?” Sombra asked. Archimedes sucked through his teeth.

“To resurrect your mother.” Sombra froze. His mother, what he could remember, had been a gentle woman and a loving mother. His best memory of her was in the garden when he had opened up his knee on a rock after he had tripped. She had come to him and closed the wound magically and kissed it. She had held him tightly and called him her favorite star.

Sombra stared into the flames in his fireplace and remembered her pyre. The funeral had been a terrible day, even for his father.

Archimedes sat in silence waiting for his king to speak. Sombra stirred.

“Did you manage to give my father immortality?” Archimedes sighed.

“No, that was what we were going to do before he died.” Sombra nodded.

“Is the project still ready?” he asked. Archimedes looked at the king.

“We abandoned the project after his grace passed.” Sombra stood and looked at the chaplain.

“Archimedes, I command you to make me immortal.” Archimedes stood and bowed stiffly.

“At one your grace.” He said as he backed out of the chamber, he knew better than to question a king.

Sombra stood over the fireplace looking down into the fire and he smiled. The old king had been mad but not stupid. A god father, you would make a very poor god. Sombra thought to himself. The king turned from the fire place and walked back though the curtain out onto the balcony. Snow had begun to fall, light and beautiful in its white purity. Sombra caught a flake in levitation and pulled it closer. He held the flake in the air looking at it. It was too small to see any detail so he blew it up to massive proportions. The image it made was stunning, an unrepeatable pattern that hung before him. Sombra took in the beauty and smiled. Fire began to grow around him, burning higher and higher melting the snow around him as the air began to heat. The massive snowflake began to melt as it hung in the air. Sombra just smiled as the flames shot up and immediately died down. Of the snowflake, only steam floated away.

Sombra looked down at the land. His smile grew wider as his flames began to spread. He could hear shrieks and screams as the flames began to eat up homes and peasants alike. The flames didn’t burn bright orange though. Sombra had never liked orange and yellow fire, Sombra liked black.

The black flames moved swiftly through flesh and wood alike assuring that nothing was left standing.

“Your herd father,” Sombra said. “It’s in need of a purge.”