//------------------------------// // Chapter 1: Feelings (2023 update) // Story: Constantly Conflicting // by TheBookish_Disaster //------------------------------// All his life, for as long as he'd known himself, Sombra relied on his feelings. Whether basic emotions or the kind his magic required to work. "You see, dark magic is powered by big emotions. And not just any emotions at that, but especially large, heavy bursts of it! Does not matter what kind, as long as they're strong... Hate, fear, pride, love, sorrow, envy... You name it. It all fuels your magic, making your spells stronger, and thus you as well..." is what Sombra would've said to anyone who asked. If he, of course, trusted that someone with this information. Or felt them worthy of his attention and time in the first place... Well, also, if he were alive... Sadly, he was not alive. He knew he was dead, despite somehow still being conscious, in a strange, dreamlike sort of way. But one big clue to his state of being was the very feelings he relied on so much. If he were alive, he would be feeling at least something. Pain? Or at least, discomfort? He did get blasted into a million particles after all. That was another clue. Memory. He remembered dying. Remembered the pain, remembered the triumphant faces of his killers, Princess Cadenza and that small dragon. And after all the trouble he went through to revive himself again... And there it was, the final clue. Experience. Sombra knew what it was like to be dead. To die. What a sucker he was. Dying not once, but twice. What was that saying again...? Shame on him... But this, this was somehow different. He didn't remember being so... So lucid, the last time. And still, Sobra had to be dead! He remembered dying, he knew what dying was like, and he couldn't feel anything. No touch, no sight, no hearing... Emotions still bubbled in him, in whatever spiritual state he was in, but those emotions were useless to him dead. Useless without a body to feel them, without a horn to channel them. "I speak of emotions, but those aren't the only feelings I mean. Equally tied are things such as..." Sombra paused, searching for the right words. "The clenching of your jaw in anger or determination, the warmth under your skin, flush from exhaustion. The shiver up your spine when an enemy has bested you." He knew he was only speaking (well, thinking) to himself here, but putting it in the right words helped. It calmed his nerves. He was anxious. No, uneasy. Why was he still conscious? How long had it been? The thoughts passed through him like a dream. Time, warped. But he wasn't waking any time soon... "I don't view those as emotions. They are physicalities, caused by, or causing emotions. But they're still important. What is anger without bulging eyes and hissing words? What is sadness without a heavy head and an even heavier heart? Nothing. Not strong at all." That's why he couldn't magic himself out of this limbo... "Every creature has emotions. It's what makes us different from, let's say... Rocks." Hey, who said he was eloquent? "'Rocks' is fine. But what is different between the common pony and me, is our feelings. Most ponies suppress the ugly parts of themselves, suppress their anger, their grief..." He knew. The royal court alone was full of ponies like that. "All to fit into polite society. And then there's the common dolt, not ashamed of their feelings, yet too blind or untalented to channel them properly..." "But I know how to do that. And I am not ashamed of my rightful feelings. I use them to my advantage, to gain what I deserve. I practice the most brilliant of all magic. Dark magic." At that point, Sombra would be placing a hoof on his chest, preening with pride. He would feel the cold of his armor press against his skin. He would hear the clink of his metal shoe tap against his chest plate. He would even feel the eyes of his imaginary student staring at him, whether in amazement or shock, either was fine. He just wanted to feel something... But no feeling came. Only emotion, boundless and bubbling, building up with no limit, yet still contained within him, making him squirm. Anger, resentment, shame... If only he was alive, oh, what magic he could cast! And yet again, he was not. It was simple. No feelings - no life. He couldn't feel anything... . . . And suddenly, Sombra felt something. "GAH!!" He screamed. The sudden surge of pain covered his body. He had a body... Well, a body that went through better days than this, but right now it felt as if it were on fire... Maybe it was on fire? Suddenly, the fire stopped. The pain remained, only fading out slowly. He couldn't see, he couldn't hear, and yet... Sombra could feel again. Nothing extravagant, simply pain, now dull and aching, for a moment worsened as his side connected with something solid, and then it was back to dull. He wasn't sure how long he remained there, but he was definitely not where he used to be. He could feel the cold stone under him, smell the moisture in the air, feel the chill against his fur. Where was he? Slowly his eyes peeled open, a difficult task at first. When he lifted his head, Sombra felt pain as sharp as a sword piercing through his temple. He had to close his eyes again The former crystal king opened his eyes to have his suspicions confirmed. He was in a prison cell. Well, not just any prison cell, but a Canterlot Castle one. The white unicorn guards, dressed in golden armor, standing in front of the steel door, confirmed it only with their presence. He looked around the small room. It was dark, clearly. The only weak light in the room came from the silver cape of the moon and the playful fiery dance a single torch made through the small window at the door. Sombra looked up. The stone ceiling faced him. The whole cell was made out of stone. He couldn’t see a bed or anything. He tried to stand up but couldn’t. Carefully examining his legs in the darkness he noticed what was keeping him down. Four chains on each ankle, one bigger on his neck. Now that he thought about it, his body did feel sore at those spots. The chains seemed to dig in his flesh the more he moved so he decided to stay still in avoidance of some nasty rashes. He looked around, eyes quickly adjusting to the darkness. There was loose hay dropped around the floor, most likely a leftover meal. The chains on his legs were connected to the floor, and ever so lightly enchanted to withstand things such as rust. The smallest window he'd ever seen graced the wall opposing the door. No moonlight came through it, so it was a moonless night. Lastly, the only other item around was a small hole next to his hind legs but he decided to ignore its obvious purpose. The cell wasn’t much, typical for a cell. So he turned his attention to his body. The first thing he checked for was his horn. Not there. Sombra felt a slight chill of fear- no. Worry wash over him. Instead of his curved horn, there was only a small stump, about a few centimeters long, and a cotton bandage covered it, tied carefully around his head. He felt a wetness on his hoof then, and at a quick glance, saw the green liquid that resided under the bandage and over the stump. No, the horn. Sombra examined his horn a bit more as he put some pressure on it. He winced at the sharp pain slicing his head. He quickly learned what the strange medicine was for. Deciding to leave the sad excuse for a horn alone, he looked at the forming scratches under the chains. His boring (and mildly dread-inducing) activity was quickly interrupted (Thank the Gods) when he heard a steel door in the distance open and close on the other side of his own. Another torchlight showed up in the room behind his prison door. The two guards seemed to shift a bit as three more figures walked to them. Suddenly, the door opened and the light of both torches filled his cell, making Sombra wince at the sudden change of lighting. After his eyes got used to the light, he noticed two ponies behind the closing door. He knew them. Oh, how he knew them. And despised them! The royal sisters. The respected and outstanding Princess Celestia and her brat of a sister, Luna. If someone could hold a grudge against them stronger than his, he’d probably give them a medal. He growled in anger. Hot anger. Back in the day that would've been enough to vaporize them to bits. But now... Now shame followed his anger, that of a powerless being. But that was the good thing about emotions. You can cover them up with stronger, better ones. So he let his anger show in the way all his muscles clenched and his fur stood on edge. After a moment he noticed the purple mare standing in front of the now-closed door. When did it close? Curiosity bubbled under his anger, and he couldn't help but try and feed it. He looked her up and down. Ah, yes. He knew her too. The mare he despised just as much as that nasty dragon and the pink princess Cadenza, who stopped him during his return as the Rightful King of the Crystal Empire! She was that unicorn mare who managed to walk through all his traps like a foal walking from one end of the playground to the other! Oh, how he despised that mare… She was staring at him with an unreadable expression. Either a foolish mare, repressing her powerful emotions, or, he hated to even consider it, a brilliant opponent, not revealing her next move. If only he could tell what she was planning... Yet his head hurt the more he looked at her. So he took to looking at her superficially. She seemed a bit more mature from when Sombra last saw her, but she was still young. Practically a child! The tips of her hooves seemed to be hidden by the golden shoes she was wearing. Atop her head sat a golden tiara with a few small, magenta-colored gems. He of course did not miss the biggest change. She was an alicorn now. She apparently had grown in height, making her body look more elegant, her horn was longer than a regular unicorn’s, and her wings… They simply looked gorgeous. She was silent. Strange, he had thought she would have smothered him in lectures and speeches (maybe even threats) and other stuff a ruler of a country would do with a national enemy. Or perhaps, if she had grown more ruthless in her time as ruler, even execute him on the spot. She didn’t actually seem to be concerned with talking. She was still staring at him. For a strange reason, he felt uncomfortable under her gaze. Why was that? He could stare any of those royals straight in the eyes without flinching, so why was he suddenly so discomforted by this… this… filly! Her eyes felt like fire, but he didn't take them off the purple princess. At that moment, Sombra felt a new feeling bubble under his now cocktail of emotions. But he couldn't tell its meaning, its source. What was it? So sudden, so fresh. But unfathomable. And it followed her. His pulse quickened. His head started reeling, more painful than before. It took all his willpower to control his breathing. And yet, he could feel his face flush. What was this feeling!? Fervid, as a flame... Starting from inside, wrapping around his heart, burning him. Did it even have a name? Yes… How could he be so foolish? This feeling, it was... Loathing.