Sombra:
Outside of biological need, I never understood why ponies treated the act of sleeping with such reverence that they'd look forward to it. All they do is lie about, comatose for a few hours, while their unimaginative minds often bring forth equally dull hallucinations due to their lack of creativity. I'm told that this is called 'dreaming' and it peppers their language and culture. Though, I know dreaming to be much more like wishing, hoping, and imagining, which one does while they're awake. If ponies really do wish while they are asleep, why do they wait, and lie about so uselessly when they could at least attempt to act upon those wishes and better themselves when they’re still able to control their own bodies?
Do they really go through life with even the simplest of ambitions, hardly worthy of such a descriptive, vibrant word, and simply let them rot and remain only that? Do they never act upon anything or decide to make them something more, and instead lose control of everything?
Why would any creature willingly limit themselves like that? Why don't they even try to be less pathetic, to discover what they are and make themselves something else? Who would want to be just another face, so different on the outside but the exact same underneath their coats and behind their glassy eyes, never attempting anything, achieving anything, only resigned to stumbling through life until they die as they were born: meaningless and unaware.
Usually, I don't even bother to close my eyes since I don't need to sleep anymore, just another bonus of immortality. If I do find that I have fallen asleep, I usually do so in the day when it is most reasonable to do so.
But never before have I ever had a dream when in this state. Or perhaps I have never had any I could remember.
Not until today.
...
If this weren't my own mind I was seeing, I would have been surprised with how lucid everything around me was. The untrimmed grass is just like something I'd see in any forest, although it isn't nearly as overgrown as the Everfree is. Everything is quieter than any waking forest and no light breaks through the leafy canopy for there to be any proper illumination, so the forest is shrouded with a gray cloak of shadows without any hint of whether it is day or night.
Despite there not being any natural lighting I was able to see the green tint of leaves from these deciduous trees and the makings of a path that had been worn into existence by the elements.
Evidently, I had somewhere to be. It's so nice that whatever genius of a mind I'm in wants me to be on time. It also serves as a reminder that I don't have to be awake to be full of myself.
I think I like that.
...
As I passed through the forest, I began to notice just how inanimate it looked and felt. I didn't see a single leaf fall or the grass sway in the breeze. No other creatures called out, but that was to be understood since this was my mind and there wasn't going to be anyone else here.
Or at least there wasn't going to be anypony else here recently. The other set of hoofprints quickly established that.
They weren't a stranger's hoofprints either, but they were made at a time that long preceded my visit here.
I may have never had this kind of a dream before, but I have been in my mind and know it inside and out. For a long time it was all I ever had, that and what knowledge I could gift myself from the world around me.
I've never dreamed while asleep before, but I've had plenty of wishes, daydreams, hopes, and ambitions. It doesn't matter what one wants to call them, I've had hordes of them and being a product of myself alone, I guess you could say that even though I was created like any other demon, I was born inside my dreams. I never had anything but them to myself for what might as well have been an eternity, all of which I remember so very clearly.
As I walk, I do so on top of the tracks that were already made. The tracks of somepony much younger than I... but as different as could be.
And at the sight of them, I know that if I close my eyes, the dark grip of memories can find me.
My jaw clenches slightly and I try to refrain from gritting the spell on my fangs. It's such a nasty habit, after all.
Soon, I have come to a large clearing. Just like the rest of the wood there is no light that finds its way here, but a flicker of magic can change that for me as much more demonic irises appear, only vanishing when I want them to and appearing along with a quick blink.
A layer of fog rests among each tree trunk, stagnant and thick. I cannot see every fine detail of the land around me through the silvery barrier, so I simply walk to where it is weakest in order to investigate better and find that the road forks, but I can only see two of the paths out of what could be at least half a dozen. What an excellent and entertaining use of my time this is proving to be. I wish I could just wake up but, no I had to be a deep sleeper.
The first was a narrow road so littered with small black shards that it would be a crime not to recognize after the incident involving the Crystal Empire. After all, I'm rather connected to the child named after the stones. This path was almost familiar when I looked at it, and came with the distant impression of horrible recollections. A small part of me wondered if I've traveled it before, in some shape or form, but I can't explain why. It was because of this perceived familiarity that I was drawn to investigate it, knowing that there might be a connection between it and myself. Every other part of me bristled with distaste and contempt for this path. I did know it, I had to...
Maybe it could burn...
Towards the left with a decent amount of space between them, there was another path that I was able to see through the fog and this one looked... easy.
I could navigate this even if I gouged out my own eyes, stuffed my ears so I couldn't hear, and maimed one of my legs. There was hardly any challenge to it since there wasn't a single obstruction in sight. Only a glass-clear stream ran calmly beside it. From here the surface looked clearer than any mirror, like it wanted me to be drawn to my appearance forever.
To me... it was a little tempting, but I already knew who I was and didn't care that much about what I looked like since who I am is, and always has been, much more important to me than common narcissism that never extends beyond warped vanity. Am I vain? Of course, but not so pettily. I love myself because of who I am, not because I look nice. Do I look 'nice'? I'm handsome, and in my eyes terribly so, but I can admit outright that I love myself. As handsome as I may be, my confidence is what completes that.
There is somepony who I love more than myself, though. Somepony who I love in all ways. This road is pressing my muzzle to the surface of the water, blind to all but my reflected image so that I could drown from petty stupidity I do not have.
The small sound on my left that has been waiting the whole time finally emerges from the forest, making a lot of noise as it does so, and if that wasn't enough to identify them, the hollow presence was a guarantee.
Dreams like these are such dangerous things, I can feel it. What they show, what they tell, and what is whispered in them can be crucial in driving somepony. Memories tell me that, and they aren't mine.
Sleep can be such a wicked thing.
It can erase borders and fold the distance between myself and him.
I lash out with an arc of flame on my left, no longer unmoving as he thought I had been. For a second there's a scrambling noise and the sound of leaves being stirred before silence once again. For once, my parasite has quieted.
Even if this is only a brief visit, it is one I despise. Certain aspects of his personality will never be threatening to me simply because of how pathetic they are, like his, ah, what is it called now? 'Edgy'? Yes, that's it: his often overly edgy antics and angst, along with his hyperactivity. Those parts of him aren't anything that intimidates me. But when you've seen him as I have, and what he can and will do, then there is something else there. He has so many layers of poison and worse things that he is quick to push me in. On that part there's so much hatred I'll never be able to fully express for this brat, not when we will never truly stand in the same place. He's grown so little since the spell itself, only his personality has been warped further as he reigned, and right under him is a monster with parts that are beyond any child's antics.
And he knows this too.
I look at him, more fire ready to burst away from my horn, the green and purple crackling and roaring white and blue around the edges, while every now and then two of the flames will spark and converge with a high pitched shriek.
Behind those brown eyes, tinted red from the Book, is an identical flicker of green and violet. A smile, bright, cheery, and very similar to an illustration I once saw of a storybook cat looking down at a little filly in a frock as a grin makes its way across his face. Only unlike the cat, there's such a brutality to Onyx's grin. Such a gleeful and sadistic little bastard, and I wonder what would happen if he were flesh and blood again, and if I just took this fire to him over and over and over again for everything that he's ever done.
"You're shaking, Sombra."
So I am.
I know he loves it too, and though the sick feeling wrenching my stomach is familiar, it doesn't hurt any less.
"Is it out of anger or fear?"
'This is a child', so many would say 'a poor child who only got too caught up in magic, you cannot hurt him.'
He is a child; a stupid, awful child. This is a child that I can't unsee with blood on his hooves and face, or feathers caught in his teeth and his only reasoning for such actions being 'for fun' or 'I only ever wanted to hurt it' followed by 'Why'd it die so soon, I was just getting started' even though that never stopped him from inflicting damage after.
This is a child who licked the blood off any metal weapon he used, who thought living things were better when they weren't moving, who only wanted to hurt something and covet anything it owned just because he could.
Here is the child who is remorseless for far worse things.
I will hurt this child just as much as I would hurt anypony else who has done what he has done, because it does not matter their age.
"You still don't talk much, huh?"
The smile grows bigger. He comes up a little past my chest. "Remember what happened when I found out that you never left a single crystal pony intact after I was done with them..." He trails off before adding, in the slight 'purr' - or at least what ponies call a purr - his voice gets when it speaks of such things: a slight, neat little feminine burble that he acquired from our time together, "...when you were done with them."
He made me do it. Made me. Even if nopony deserves anything, being left in that state, even when they were dead, was wrong and the fire was a mercy.
"Ugh, you were always so quiet unless something was about you..."
Another pause. I feel like I'm going to explode for waiting this long, for holding back, for waiting, for whatever this is called. It's anything but hesitation. This is what magic does to him, it brings out the warped side of him that only acts stable, until you give that side of him a knife, or any kind of weapon. Until he's bored or happy or sad or angry. He always wanted more of this sick and twisted stuff. The kid's practically seduced by it. I can see it in his eyes, even when his 'eyes' were behind mine. I can see all the things he wants to do, all the ways he liked to make me scream, to make me hurt, to make me...
"...or something was happening to you," Onyx finishes with a slight giggle. His voice is vile, light, and...
...I always remember how pleased he was when I was hurt.
The fire's practically wailing. I want it to be him screaming instead.
I don't want to remember it anymore, not in such detail.
"You're just so stupid, Sombra. The quiet ones always are. I was pretty surprised when you actually could talk, you know."
In the first few hours we knew each other, you were so scared. After I was created, I reached up and felt that you had been crying using my eyes. You said the spell hurt before you started speaking in gibberish. I asked you what was wrong. I didn't even know my name yet, or where I was. I couldn't even read but I listened to your frantic explanation. 'The wizard, he hits me', was about all you got out before you, the little voice in my head, started wailing again because you heard he was coming. I did too. I offered to kill him for you, and you agreed on the condition that you could help. I agreed too, and you got to use some of my magic and call out suggestions to me about the course of action. Even when we were fighting, you said that even though you lied 'a lot' you wouldn't hurt me like Starswirl hurt you. You were in awe over me and what I could do.
I repeat the last line aloud and he laughs again. His laughter is still so childish unless you listen closely. Like how I had to. "You really believed me. That's one of the things that made you so fun to hurt, Sombra. You believed me."
I know, I trusted you before I even knew your name, before I even knew my name. I thought that afterwards I could just go be me. It was both of us who finally killed the wizard, and we did it together since we didn't know how to have only one of us in control those first few hours. And even though you were slow, loud, and stupid, it wasn't as bad as how things were going to turn out. I thought you were just scared and annoying, I was somewhat confused and only a few hours new, so I don't think I was thinking straight.
I think I believed you because you were hurt. I didn't say that to him, though.
"So, what have you been up to lately, shadow of mine? I've got no control..." And there was something so obviously resentful with how he said those few words, "...and it's been so boring lately." There is the child again.
I told you he was dead. I checked to show you because I thought it was just you being stupid, but you didn't care. I felt you take control of me, you demented bastard, and take a single spike of the gray crystal and bring it down over and over. I panicked as you said it was something called revenge. I looked in your mind, that wasn't real revenge. I checked, you knew what the word meant, but for a while I let it slide because maybe you needed it but you kept going and going and you started laughing. By the time I was able to get you away there was really only bones left. I began to go in your mind bit by bit.
I look down at Onyx and try not to gulp. To growl. The fire is hotter, but it isn't going to hurt me. I'm straight faced. I can feel that hollow greed in him. I'm angry too, but mostly I'm just confused. He can't do anything and memories just keep playing.
I need to concentrate. That's all. Remember to breathe.
Onyx's mouth turns down in an impatient frown. "Why aren't you ever happy?"
It's like a little thread in my snaps and I'm brought to attention. My jaw clenches again and I emit a small growl. Who cares if he can see my fangs?
"That's what I hate about you, Sombra," he says, adding more quietly, "I hate a lot of things about you."
It's a very mutual feeling, kid.
"You're mopey and stupid. You're so full of yourself and, like, super boring. You used to ask stupid questions like 'Where does snow come from?' even though it's obvious that snow is just what happens when clouds die. You never do anything interesting, you ask why things happen and you think you can order me around. You don't like talking, and you're always serious."
He loses it at the last sentence, and jerks around, I can see whatever splinters of emotions he has in there flickering madly, those empty eyes with only fragments of a pony and that twisted smile. He's so broken, it's why he breaks things. He's empty so he empties others.
And in my case, he tried to.
"Why can't you just do what I want? Why can't I truly hurt you?"
Let me translate: Why can't I predict you and bend your will? Why can't I understand you?
You're an open book, Onyx, and unfortunately I used to be a character in your story.
He's staring at me and trying to look me in the eyes but his gaze is so shifty and he's only half-paying attention.
"I just don't get it! Why can't I ever hurt you like everypony else? Why are you so stupid? I just want to hurt ponies, I swear it's all I ever wanted... well once you taste money and power, that too. You remember me, at least. I guess I made sure of that..."
I don't think he even knows what's going on around him, his voice trails off and his tone is just as 'mopey' as he accused me of being. Onyx has been alone for over a thousand years.
Those brown eyes are looking at me again now, from my red cloak to my magic fire that I'm still ready to use against him.
"So, when do we get another chance?"
A small look of confusion finds its way into my stoic expression.
"I got beat. The stupid pink princess blew me up."
Does he really think...?
"Are you really that stupid, Sombra? I blacked out when fighting Princess Solara Sunbutt and I lost the Empire."
Of course he wouldn't know that happened after. I nod slightly, playing along. The next thing he would have known is the ice-void that he would have awoken to, and as a disembodied entity like I was. From there we separated, although not fully. He must not have been aware of that. During the time we spent there we didn't have any access to each other but I knew he was somewhere, and quickly abandoned him to the cold, dark space we'd both come to know for quite some time.
"But then, I remember... uh... something, yeah, I remember something. Then there was a pink princess and her stupid dragon. It was all really strange having a body again and, like, I only remembered three words... was it a dream?"
I don't speak, silently pleased by whatever nutcase theory he's going to come up with.
"...Is this a dream, Sombra?"
Technically, yes.
"Wait! It's a dream?" He must have seen my expression, because he looks to me so desperately.
"No! I don't want it to be! I can't have everything be a dream! I don't want to be a stupid voice again; I don't want to wake up and be alone again. There's nopony to hurt if I'm alone!"
He lifts his head and stops pacing absentmindedly before dashing over to my side, almost tripping over himself in the process.
"You!" he barks at me, "You're mine, you have to stay with me because you're mine, right? You're my property, my weapon, and my..." He exhales sharply, quivering with whatever more heinous descriptor died on his tongue. "I won't be alone, right? I'll get to hurt you as much as I want."
I take a few steps away and position myself so I can attack him better. Onyx doesn't pick up the cues.
"If this is a dream of yours, why do we both have physical bodies?"
I've gotten him confused now.
"What do you mean?"
"You were close enough to me that you should have been able to feel body heat. You don't have lucid dreams, Onyx, and you never have. It's plain to see that I'm breathing as well as turning any tables against you."
"...Wait how can you attack me? This is a dream?"
"Sure, sure, I bet it is a dream but that isn't halting my theoretical deconstruction, which should be absolutely impossible if the conventions of your dreams are to be taken into consideration."
"So it isn't a dream?"
If Onyx has no power or control, he's virtually useless, such as right now.
"It is a dream, it just isn't yours."
Onyx blinks quickly, turmoil in his eyes before he starts screaming. "No!" he yells, stomping his hooves, "No! That means that you won! No! That's not fair, you're mine, you can't leave. I don't want to be here, you can't have won."
"Onyx, I won the moment you created me."
Onyx has always been a fast runner, and he quickly gallops over and grabs me by the front of my cloak, dark magic having overtaken his brown eyes. For a minute, I'm too startled to react, memories playing in the back of my mind as a feeling of disgust washes over me from my eyes having to survey this sickening creature.
"I CAN'T LOSE!" The vile colt is screaming at the top of his lungs now and there are some tears in his eyes, but that isn't exactly important since Onyx cries very easily to the point where he's pathetic.
"I don't wanna be alone again, there's nopony to hurt. Only I suffered, and I don't want to suffer, I'm not supposed to suffer anymore. It said 'Everything You Ever Wanted', I swear that's what the book said and it gave me a weapon and power, it gave me magic. I got to make the Empire suffer, I got to make Starswirl suffer, but most of all I got somepony who wasn't a pony at all, someone I couldn't kill but could make them suffer. I got you, I got a little voice in my head that I could do almost anything to and watch how much I hurt it..."
I've never understood how he could say so many things so quickly, my disgust deepens and I feel dread, along with my resurfaced rage.
He still has me by the cloak.
I cloak one of my forehooves in the enchanted dark fire, which is now the color of ice and constantly makes a whistling noise, sparks flying. I use this hoof to slam Onyx into a tree. Since the kid hasn't had his body in over a millennium it means he's not quite a pony, ironically.
So the fire will hurt him even more, and each scream from this one is absolutely glorious and compensates for the energy cost of all this sky-blue and roaring white fire any day.
I don't bother to allow Onyx enough time to start another round of screaming before I overwhelm him with another wave of flame.
And another.
And another.
I don't plan on stopping, even though I could be on the verge of collapsing. There's a whoosh of air and Onyx tries to take out my legs, only to startle me into dishing out another wave of fire right into the face of his current form.
I just wonder if he'll figure out how to regenerate. At first he justed started screaming but I don't even know what sound he's making now. I wouldn't say it's of this world.
By now half of the clearing, with the exception of the two paths are bathed in smoke that has replaced the fog that originally masked anything from my sight.
I start to cough heavily, and I'm not sure how much longer I'll be able to stand. I only see Onyx run down the path with the fragments of onyx stone scattered throughout its extent. He stumbles as he goes, so I don't need to imagine that I've damaged his eyes to some degree.
Where he goes, I don't follow. Those are two paths I will not go down. The last thing I see before I wake up is a vortex of fire as white as snow annihilate a tree.
I wake up on the floor of my designated cabin, the sound of screams and sparks still ringing in my ears and images of leaves draped with veils of ash and shadow on my mind as I contemplate this dream of mine.