Soulitude- second season

by JC Borch

Chapter 7: King Sombra

I got an audition with the spirit bear, patron of the Skaal, and was told to go to Castle Karstaag. There I found the eponymous jotun gone. His servants, the wretched little rieklings, dissolved their unity in his absence which explains the hunting parties I’ve stumbled upon in the Frozen Wasteland. All I can do now is to wait for King Sombra to approach me. His plans are nearing their last stage. He just needs to get me out of the way, the last person with some semblance of strength and a hope of opposing him. My troubles with the mine seem almost trifling in comparison. Trusty Gunner almost had Melon fired on a technicality he himself created, and then weird tree ponies attacked the colony. All the while, my friend still isn’t waking up. I’m starting to think he never will.

CHAPTER 7: KING SOMBRA

Lars was sleeping in his own bed for once. He had stopped the vigils over his friend and accepted there was nothing he could do. As warmth returned to Ulrich’s body, so did colour. Marbling of the skin, bluing of the lips and fingernails… Ulrich was dead and dying. Fear, anxiousness and hate troubled Lars’ sleep. It was the middle of the night and his eyes shot awake. He thought at first it a nightmare. Alertness crashed into him and left him dizzy and confused. He could not make out his surroundings at first but the panting following him into the real world. It was real.

Several pairs of glowing eyes stared at him out of the darkness. Gigantic lupine forms sat around the floor of his small room. Heart hammering up in his throat, Lars sat upright in his bed and pressed himself against the wall. His suit was dragged down to his waist and his soft, tender flesh was exposed. But the amulet was still there around his neck. It was the only thing that even allowed him to sleep in the first place. Its magic was calming, keeping him from panicking, but not his heart from beating almost out of his chest.

The wolves parted and allowed a bigger one to come to the front. Its eyes were not wild or beastly like the others. It simply sat down by the bed and stared up at Lars. “We have come for you, as I am sure you are already aware of.”

Lars nodded and relaxed. “If King Sombra wants me dead, why not kill me here?” he asked. “What is it you want of me?”

“We only take our orders, not question them,” the wolf replied in its deep voice. An old stallion hid underneath the fur. “You knew this day would come, and our master graciously gave you time to prepare. Now tell me, will you come willingly? Or do we need to get persuasive? Our master only told us to bring you alive.”

Lars got up from the bed and put his feet into his boots. The other werewolves snarled at the hints of hostility in his movements, but their leader remained seated. The two locked eyes in a contest of wills. “I will go with you, and I will vanquish your master, once and for all,” Lars said and looked up, out at the other wolves. They bared their teeth at him. The amulet was warm and comforting against his skin, so it was with a sure heart that he spoke again. “I am ready. Take me where I need to go.”

Something of a smile came over the leader werewolf. “Then we will take you, but we cannot walk. It is too far.” The leader stepped into the middle of the room with Lars behind him. The circle of werewolves closed around them. “Here we go.”

The world disappeared. For a moment, Lars could see nothing, not even darkness. The amulet could do nothing to subdue the terror of blindness, even lasting only seconds. Lars felt ground beneath him again, but his face was white as a sheet and drenched in sweat. Slowly he regained his composure, the amulet helping a great deal of the way. A terrible presence unseen however quickly chilled him to the bone and dispelled any sort of comfort he had had.

He had come to a corridor of stone encroached by ice. It would not take the floor, but walls of freezing white and blue barred his way to the sides and to the back. Down the hallway the ice funnelled him to a pair of stairs leading up to a platform. There stood King Sombra himself, a grey unicorn with a pitch black mane and red eyes and horn, clad in steel armour with a regal coat billowing behind his back. His forked tongue whipped out to lick his lips.

“Yes, crystals!” he said in a deep, sibilant tone. “My crystal slaves.”

King Sombra turned right around and disappeared into a black cloud, blowing away from Lars. The human barely noticed the pony before he was gone again. “Hey! Hold up.”

“It is of no use. The king sold his soul, and his mind, a long time ago to the dark powers of crystals. I’m not even sure you can call him a pony anymore.”

“Wha–?” Lars was halfway up the stone steps when the light blinded him and nearly sent him falling back down again.

“We don’t have much time. King Sombra wants you dead before the plan reaches its final leg, when something unheard of will happen in a small town called Ponyville.” A sphere appeared out of the light. Swirl the Smart, Swirl the Swift, or just plain old Butterscotch, was trapped inside, his cheek pressed against the side. “When that happens, I too will break from this bubble and then the world will be mine. But no reason for any haste, I assure you. I will still have to wait for the coronation ceremony for it to be official.”

Lars took the arm away from his eyes and looked up at the trapped Butterscotch with baleful eyes. “You will never get out of that bubble. You’re trapped on the bottom of the sea in the ruins of your old lab, and there you will stay.”

“You underestimate me, my friend. I could break out anytime I wanted, but truth be told, I’m just waiting… waiting for the birth of a new princess. It’s going to happen tonight! Until then, I will be all yours. We make quite a good team.”

“I will accept your help, because I know you’re bluffing. Besides, you’re right, it’s about time you did something helpful with your life.”

Butterscotch smiled so eerily even Lars had a moment of doubt. “Shall we get going then?” Butterscotch asked. Lars grunted and waved a hand at the bubble. It gently floated past him. “I hope you’re ready. This place is the seat of King Sombra’s power. Plenty of big, bad wolves.”

Lars went through the stone arch to the next area. The situation was reversed, and ice covered the floor while the walls of stone were untouched. A chilling sensation crept down his neck. From his vantage point, the layout of the room before him was clear. He had entered a maze where dozens of werewolves crept. Below him, however, sat a pony up against a wall. The earth pony looked like he had been dipped in blood and equipped with steel armour after.

“I don’t believe this. Captain Crush?” Lars called out and rushed down the steps.

The strong, trustworthy-looking pony looked up and smiled weakly. In truth, the redness of his coat was merely his natural colour, fit for the captain of Fort Frostmoth, the Equestrian outpost in the Frozen Wasteland. He clutched to his sword for support to get himself up. His armour was dented and ripped, and one eye was clenched shut. “Well, well, if it isn’t the human. Come to save me, have you?” the captain asked and chortled, quickly turning to coughs. “I have no idea where this place is, but there is no way out. Believe me, I’ve tried for days, but the damn werewolves get me every time. All the while it feels like some mysterious power is draining my strength. Weird, huh?”

“King Sombra brought you here weeks ago, not mere days. Time must run differently down here. Or perhaps it just feels that way?”

Captain Crush’s eyes went wide, and he nearly fell over again, had Lars gripped him in time. “The King? Impossible, the wielders of the elements vanquished him months ago.” There was nothing in Lars’ eyes or face to suggest a joke, so Crush bowed his head. “I see. We should have known it would be harder than that to get rid of him. And if it has been weeks, then I really need to get out of here.”

“I didn’t expect to meet you here, but I am glad I did. I thought for sure he had already done you in.” Lars helped the captain stand up. With one hoof on his steel longsword, he somehow managed.

“Don’t be too happy, I doubt I can be of much help to you. I’ve eaten what little grows here, and I’m tired and I’m hungry.” The captain coughed again, nearly knocking him down again.

“I think I have found the way out,” Butterscotch said and hovered in between the two. Crush’s sword slipped from under him and sent him belly first into the ice. “The door is locked though, but I also saw a chest. It would seem this place is a gauntlet to wear out whoever is trapped in here so that King Sombra can lap up their strength.”

“You keep some strange company, I must say. Who is this?” the captain asked and looked up at the bubble reflected in his eyes.

“You look a little worn out. Like this you won’t be of any help, and I doubt you’d survive here much longer. Allow me.”

Butterscotch shot a beam of light from his horn and engulfed the captain in a warm aura. At once, the captain got up with his own strength without shaking. He looked perplexed down at himself, up at Butterscotch and then to Lars.

“What just happened?”

Lars shook his head and drew his sword. “That’s too long a story, but perhaps I’ll tell you someday. When we get out of here. Just follow the bubble, it knows where to go.” Lars looked up at Butterscotch and saw a frown crease the trapped unicorn’s brow.

“I am not just a bubble, I’ll have you know, nor some fairy in a bottle you can conveniently release whenever you need it.” With an injured ‘hmph’ Butterscotch sailed through the air off to the right.

The walls curved in half circles and led them around the spherical maze. The dead ends were small, square rooms that looked mostly like werewolf sleeping cots. Hay were strewn over the ice and cluttered with bones, and at least one werewolf hid in each. Bigger than normal wolves with a coat as black as the night tinged with grey like steel and red eyes glowing demonically.

Butterscotch remained floating over their heads. Lars had his stahlrim longsword. The flames danced on his blade as he swung it and cut through the lupine menace. Captain Crush was by his side with his regular sword, slicing and hacking and doing everything he could to follow up. They were not attacked by just one or two at the time. Up to five ganged up on them.

They ran around the circular maze after Butterscotch. Down side corridors came more werewolves. Lars’ sword cut through them. They tried to bite him and scratch him, but the amulet reinforced his suit with magic. The only problem was the large number, wearing down on him. Without the captain, Lars would have been sore pressed to do it alone. They found a key in a chest in one of the niches, sheltered by an ambush of wolves.

The goal was a platform in the middle. They kept coming closer only to being forced away again, waving and weaving through the labyrinth. Werewolves sprang at them, at least twenty in all, coming from behind and in front. Killing one only gave room for another two to attack. Lars and the captain fought back to back. Now and then a light shone from Butterscotch’s horn and blinded the attackers, allowing the two another few precious moments.

Finally they touched upon the stone floor. Captain Crush was if possible even more worn out and ragged than before.

“It’s no good, Mr Leland, I can’t possibly go any further.” He collapsed right then and there on the platform. His helmet was long lost and his short, crimson mane was matted with sweat.

Lars took a moment as well and leant up against the wall. There was no blood on his blade. It all burned away with the flames. “You want me to just go on without you?”

“You don’t have a choice; it seems your friend’s spell doesn’t last particularly long. I can feel the new fatigue gathering on the old and it’s not a good pain. But I’m glad I had the chance to fight alongside you. We really mopped the floor with those mutts.”

Lars wiped the sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his arm. “That we did. This room should be safe for now, but I think you should stay on the platform for now.” He grinned and forced himself off the wall. “Unless you want to brave the maze on your own.”

Captain Crush lay flat on his belly with all four limbs stretched out. “I could not move an inch even if you prodded me with a red-hot poker. Give the king a slash from me, you hear?” The captain chortled and planted his face on the ground.

The door unlocked with the key they had found. Behind it were stairs leading down into a small room. Cheating was prevented and Lars could not see the extent of the new maze, if it indeed was one. Of course, Butterscotch had not been calibrated into the building in ancient past. His bubble drifted off to survey the surroundings. An earth pony stood next to the stairs with an orange coat and a green mane, wearing a full suit of metal armour that doubled his appearance. “Heart-Fang!”

“W-who are you?” Heart-Fang asked confused. The pony looked up with dazed eyes.

Lars stopped up, not knowing what to say. Heart-Fang was otherwise in good condition with not even a scratch to either him or his armour. “It’s me, Lars Leland. You were going to make me honorary Skaal not long ago before you were kidnapped,” Lars said replied. “You don’t look too roughed up?”

“Right, of course, I remember you now. You’re the one who completed all those tests.” He got up with some difficulty on his legs. “Sorry, my mind’s been a little confused. How long have I been here?”

“Only about a week or so. Do you feel up for getting out of here?”

Heart-Fang bit into the hilt of his sword and drew it. “Lead the way.”

Butterscotch drifted back into the view before they could enter the maze. “Be careful. Got a whole bunch of them descending on us.” No sooner said than done, a pack of four big werewolves hurried down the corridor with three more pouring out of niches. The Longsword of Flames ignited with killing lust and hacked left and right. The werewolves yammered in pain as blood and fur sprayed everywhere. Blood also dripped from Heart-Fang’s sword. “Good, you survived, but don’t think this is the end. This maze is bigger than the last and there are even more of the werewolves here. I can’t find any chests or keys though, so the door probably isn’t locked.”

Lars was already feeling the strain in his arm. The sword was heavy but it met little resistance with each swing. Whether it was the flames or the sharpness or the magic was impossible to tell. The two of them circled around the outer area of the ring, running back and forth to find the next doorway that would let them closer. A wrong turn did not end blindly until they had wasted several minutes and fought at least a few werewolves. They came to the middle area after a long time of fighting.

The space was wide open with walls surrounded by macabre statues of werewolves, pouncing and biting and preying. They went to the stone platform in the middle, raised by no more than the height of the plates themselves. Lars tried the door in the middle, but it would not yield despite his hard tugging hard at the ring. Ominous cracking sounds filled the air, soon replaced with howls and the noise of running. The statues came to life all around them. From everywhere the werewolves bore down on the stone platform. Lars stood steady though his heart hammered. The amulet soothed his tiredness and his body seemed to move on its own.

The sword ignited and went work. The first wave of werewolves was all cut down in rapid succession. The next was upon him before he could even react and knocked him to the ground. They bit at his arms and boots and clawed at his hands and face. He thrust the point up in their chests and jaws and kicked them off him. He got up again and continued the assault. The werewolves danced around them. Heart-Fang and his blade were drenched in blood. Lars could feel it caking on his cheeks as well. It was warm and restricting but still he carried on.

Every single werewolf that King Sombra had left was squeezed out of holes and crevices. Was there no end to his resources? Lars had almost wandered in his mind and allowed his arms to do their job when a hoof reared up to touch his shoulder. Lars pointed the blade down on the stone. Clarity came back to him.

“What’s going on? Is it over?”

“Almost. There is only werewolf left,” Heart-Fang said. He fell back down on the ground as Lars spun around. His pony shape expanded so that it broke his armour. Coarse, black fur covered him from top to toe. His hoofs became claws. Lars took a few steps back as the process completed and a large wolf stood before him instead of the Skaal leader.

“No… don’t tell me they got to you too.”

“I am really sorry about this, human. If you would have just accepted the bite of my kin we could have hunted together.” Heart-Fang’s voice had become deep and beastly, sounding more like articulate snarling. He gurgled with melancholic laughter. “It is too late for me now. King Sombra has my mind and my will.”

Unable to make the first blow, Lars instead received it as the werewolf Heart-Fang snapped at his arm. Lars half-heartedly swung his blade and Heart-Fang sprang back. The two watched each other closely for an opening. “We don’t have much time. Once he has turned, there is no turning back,” Butterscotch hissed whisperingly from inside his bubble.

Lars took a few steps forwards with the tip of his sword pointed at the werewolf. “I really don’t want to do this, but Butterscotch is right. If there was anything I could do, I swear, but… is there really no hope for you?”

Heart-Fang’s eyes grew feral and the pony was last in the madness. Such was the curse of the werewolf. Those with a kind heart would only be swallowed, while those already evil would find power. Heart-Fang was gone and in his stead was only an enraged beast. The battle could begin in earnest.

Heart-Fang’s former training was gone and wildness had taken his actions. He had become a savage beast strong of power and relentless in attacks. Lars slashed the sword up and cut away a clump of fur. Heart-Fang weaved inside and went straight for the throat. A heart-stopping moment went by where all Lars could see was the drooling jaw coming closer. Blinding light flashed out. Heart-Fang fell back.

“Pull yourself together! This wolf is no longer a pony and never will be. Best you can do for him is put him down, like a rabid beast,” Butterscotch yelled.

Lars clenched his sword tightly and allowed the magic of the talisman calm him. His eyes were hard as steel. The resolve surprised even the wolf. The slash was only narrowly avoided and painted a burning streak up through its fur. The sensation of being both burned and frozen at the same time made Heart-Fang wince more than the sting. “I will get King Sombra for this. I swear, you will be the last pony he ever hurts.”

The deadly jaw settled on his arm, trying to drag him down. It was Lars’ sword arm and he could not retaliate. Instead Lars kicked out with golden boots. The werewolf sprang back and howled. Lars charged forward. They jumped and met each other in midair. Lars fell on the stone and rolled a ways. Heart-Fang landed on his feet.

Butterscotch grumbled and descended on Lars. The human was still breathing and stirring. A claw was embedded inside his suit close to his throat. Butterscotch stared in surprise as Lars got up on hands and knees with a moan. A spray of blood rained down on the bubble and completely obscured Butterscotch’s vision.

Heart-Fang still stood, ice climbing over his body except for his neck where flames kept the wound up and the blood gushing out. The ice froze his heart and the blood stopped. Ice covered him completely and then broke, shattering him into tiny fragments. All that was left of him was a key in the mess of gore.

“You certainly know how to get a job done. Very impressive.”

“Can you do to me what you did to Captain Crush?” Lars staggered towards the key, dragging the sword behind him. His legs and hands shook.

“I can’t actually take your weariness away, you know,” Butterscotch warned and floated around his head. “I can only make you forget it. You won’t actually be refreshed.”

Lars grinned. “Always doing a haphazard job,” he said and nearly collapsed as he stooped to pick up the key.

Butterscotch grunted. “The strain could likely kill you when the spell is over.” He hovered down to meet Lars’ eyes as the human knelt down. “Are you willing to take that chance?”

Neither of them said anything for a long moment. Finally, Lars nodded. “What do I have to live for anyway? I can’t go home, my daughter is now a pony because of obscure laws of interdimensional travelling, and my best friend is more than likely dead. Come to think of it, those are all your fault somehow. It would be fitting if I died because of you.” There was a hint of sarcasm in Lars’ face, and an edge of bitterness to his voice.

“Very well, but you were warned.” Butterscotch rotated his bubble so his horn was pointed down at Lars. The same light as before engulfed the human, and almost instantly he stood up tall again. “Now get going before the spell wears off.”

Lars did not need telling twice. Feeling light as a feather, he bounded for the door in the middle and ripped it open and sprinted down the stairs. There was only a corridor at the bottom, like the one he had entered from, no more mazes. The room was no smaller, though, and the immensity was downright crushing. Enormous stone ribs spread across the ceiling like some skeletal beast. The ice encroached on the stone floor but had only managed to swallow the walls.

In the middle stood a beast like a pony, but many times their normal size. Its hoofs were clawed and gnarled horns spiralled up from the sides of its elongated head with several layers of eyes. The blue fur covering it gave the beast a beard and a wild mane.

“Let me guess. That’s the jotun, Karstaag?” Lars asked and paused with sword still in hand. It roared in response so the ceiling shook and cold powder fell down Lars’ neck.

Butterscotch preferred to hang back behind the human. “That would be him. Normally he’s quite the friendly sort, I tell you. He was really happy when I set him up with King Sombra’s old pad.” The beast, Karstaag, lumbered forward, all of its many eyes blind with fury. “Maybe that’s why King Sombra has it out for the old frost giant. Payment for taking care of the old castle.”

Lars backed away towards the exit but found bars blocking the stairs. He held his blade out in front of him. “Great, but what do I do about the present danger?” The sword blazed up, the flames dancing in the enraged jotun’s eyes. “This thing is very big and very angry. He does not look to be communicative right now.”

Karstaag charged and Lars sprang aside. The jotun rammed into the stairs. Ice and stone fell down around his ears. The exit was completely blocked off with debris. All Karstaag did was shake its head, stunned just long enough for Lars to put some distance between them. “He’s old and weak is what he is. Just get up from behind and give him a good thumping.”

The beastly body of Karstaag was mostly for show and availed him little. His maddened state and his horns made him into an oversized bull charging from one to the other with Lars scampering to get out of the way. Karstaag pounded into the walls with force so that the room shook. Lars leapt up on its back and hacked away. Red lines crossed its neck and back. While it resisted the frost of the stahlrim, it could do nothing against the flames but howl in pain. Though he tried, Lars could not stab through the thick hide and fur, so he continued slashing away.

Karstaag threw him off, panting with rage. Its fur was matted with blood from deep wounds that were still too shallow. It approached carefully. Lars was still picking himself off the ground. The clawed hooves smashed down. He rolled out of the way and scrambled up on his feet. Karstaag tried again and again to stomp him flat.

Lars stopped. The hoof came down, big and menacing. He swerved in the last moment and ran under the jotun with sword held up. It ran along the length of the belly, one end to the other. Karstaag shook with fury and howled in pain. Its knees buckled with Lars barely escaping from under it. White crystals formed over its blood-drenched body. Beautiful flowers of deadly ice covered the frost giant. Its very being broke down to its core components. It finally exploded in a chill mist. Lars toppled from the blast and fell spread-eagled on the ground, panting with joy.

“We did it!” he exclaimed and laughed from deep within. “So what’s going to happen now?”

“It is night over Equestria and a new princess has been born. I’m going to leave, that’s what will happen.” Butterscotch grinned and flew over Lars’ face.

“But we haven’t even faced off against King Sombra yet. Won’t you stay at least for that?” Lars asked as he sat up.

Butterscotch did not say anything, but simply stared down at the human. The other end of the hall lit up so Lars had to shield his face. Translucent, purple crystals broke out of the ice and the stone. Lars felt the vibrations beneath him and moved just as one appeared from below him. King Sombra stood where the light had been, looking out over-exultant at the room. “Crystals!”

“Looks like I will have to stay, but only because I like you. I don’t think you can do this alone.”

“Gee, I appreciate that. I thought you had somewhere to be?”

“Well, the princess has to be coronated first, and she will be an easier mark when she’s back in Ponyville.” Butterscotch attempted a shrug, but all he managed was a slight twitch. “I can wait the week or two it takes for her to get back.”

“Crystals!”

King Sombra pounded his hooves into the floor. A shockwave of energy rippled through the room. Lars was against thrown off his feet. The crystals shattered and orbs of light gushed out. King Sombra raised his head and closed his eyes as they all came to him. His serpentine laughter filled the room. The glimmering globes swirled around the king until he was engulfed in a purple haze.

Lars staggered to his feet, feeling the spell beginning to wane and his former tiredness return, compounding on top of the weariness he had accumulated under the spell. “What is he doing?” he asked.

Butterscotch drifted back to Lars and sat on his shoulder. “Transforming, I should say. He’s got a lot power from all the ponies and creatures he had gathered here,” he replied.

The haze lifted and King Sombra was gone. In his stead was a grey bear. The mantle of King Sombra had become a red spot on its back. His single horn was still there, and his eyes glowed green with purple smoke wafting from him. The Sombra bear reared on its hind legs and roared. It was double the size of Lars.

“All right, that looks easy enough, strong but slow. You should be able to avoid his attacks easily so lay into him,” Butterscotch encouraged, floating away again.

The bear fell back on all four and lumbered forward. It was smaller than Karstaag, and slower. Lars circled around it. His sword found its soft fur easily. There was no blood. King Sombra was no longer a creature of flesh. The flames bit through the bear exterior and into the gaseous core. The bear swiped with its paw. The force was enough to send Lars reeling, but the claws could not get through the suit. Still, the blow knocked the wind out of Lars. With head ringing, Lars almost had his face chomped off by powerful jaws. Instinctively he thrust the blade up into the belly as the bear stood up to snack on his scalp.

King Sombra dissolved into smoke and drew back to the platform. A wolf instead appeared, coloured like the bear with grey fur, a red splotch on its back and a horn protruding from its forehead.

“Better be careful with that one, it looks fast,” Butterscotch remarked from under the ceiling. “Though also a tad weaker. You could probably defeat it with one swing, if you can hit it.”

Easier said than done. Lars could barely see its movements. One second King Sombra was snarling on the platform, the next his jaws were clamped around Lars’s left arm. Lars brought down the blade but the wolf was gone. Lars turned around. There it was, sprinting up at him again. Lars held out his sword. The flames sent the wolf back with a deep growl.

The wolf disappeared. Its claws could be heard clicking and clacking against the stone and ice, but the echoes muddled the source. Lars nervously spun this way and that, looking for the wolf, but never finding more than an afterimage. The wolf was on his back. Lars crouched from the sudden weight. The paws banged hard against his suit and bruised the tender flesh underneath. The spell was slowly wearing off more and more. The wolf was gone again, leaving Lars on his knees.

Wild desperation filled his veins. Somewhere in Equestria his daughter still lived. If he couldn’t win the battle for his friend or for Celestia or for Melon, he would win it for her at least. If all Lars could do was remove a threat to her safety and wellbeing, then he would do that one thing. The magical pendant burned against his skin. His tiredness from fighting washed against a rock of magic, two immovable forces both vying for his body. Invariable the tide would erode the rock and wash over the land, likely drowning him in the process. The more he fought, the larger the waves became, after all. Yet there was no doubt in his mind.

He swung around and brought the blade down. The wolf howled. It had not expected him to turn like that. The gas cloud split into two and whizzed past him, back to the platform to gather again and rethink its strategy.

“Three shapes, one for each he sucked dry. The next will be his last, and without a doubt his most dangerous. This is where you need to be on your toes. That useless human I had following me always said that to me. Be on my toes. What are toes?” Butterscotch blabbered, his prattle going completely unnoticed by Lars. There was no strength left in his body. What kept him up were the last remnants of Butterscotch’s spell and the magical amulet around his neck.

“This better be the last, for real. I’m running on fumes here.”

The purple gas congealed and solidified, took shape and stood erect on the platform at the end. Lars drooped his blade in surprise. King Sombra had not chosen a common animal form for his last performance. Instead stood a dark-skinned human clad top to toe in gleaming metal armour, with a red robe draped around his shoulders. His horn was instead an ornament on his demonical helmet.

“Crystals!”

“I’m sorry to say, but you’re on your own on that one. I have a new princess to visit, and it will take me a while to free myself and get back.” Butterscotch attempted another gesture, resulting in his ball spinning around. The pony made it look intended by fading away.

Lars hardly noticed. He was frozen in place. Things were frightening more so if they were relatable. A scary pony was less frightening to a human who had no concept of beauty or hideousness in ponies. Seeing King Sombra as a human, however, visualised everything that ponies feared about him. “Y-you’re wrong if you think I’ve come this far because I’m a human. It’s your spirit and determination that choses success over failure, not your power or shape.”

King Sombra shook his head, and a wisp of purple smoke drifted from his eyes. A spear materialised in his hand with a sharp tip at the bottom and a triangle at top, with a smaller edge pointing up and a longer one down. “All… world… mine!”

He licked his lips and laughed so that Lars’ blood froze. The wall of magic was steadily being eroded. Tiredness lapped over the weakened dam and made his arms feel heavy. King Sombra walked down from the platform but disappeared before he could reach the bottom. He appeared right in front of Lars but with only the shaft of his spear.

No, King Sombra’s spear was still whole and intact. Half of it was simply lodged inside Lars’ shoulder. King Sombra smiled wickedly. All sounds died, as did Lars’ thinking. The world lost its colour except for the red that trickled down his suit. It was the second hole on the left side. He just had no one to heal him anymore. Slowly thoughts returned to his numbed mind. He had to do something. The spear was on its way out again.

The barb had not entered his shoulder. If it had, and if King Sombra could have extracted the spear then, it would likely have torn out his entire arm. His feet were liquid. Blood pounded in his ears. Darkness settled on his eyes. He didn’t have to win anymore. The score was settled and the fight had been fought. He had won so many challenges, but this would be his last. No amount of technologically engineered suits and magic amulets could protect him from the spear of a crystal-enhanced ghost.

“Hi, my name is Pinkie Pie, what’s yours?”

He was not dead. Not yet. There was still a voice in his head, but whose? It sounded familiar but so very distant. It could not be real. He was alone on the cold floor. Even King Sombra was leaving. “You must be new in town, mister. I’ve never seen anyone like you.”

Long ago he had entered Ponyville. There was something he wanted. What was it? Was it just an excuse? It didn’t matter. He had met her there. Sixteen years had passed but he recognised her instantly from the foal he had held in his arms. Her name was Diane, the name he and his wife had given her. But she had called herself Pinkie Pie then.

“Are you okay, mister? You look a little… pale? Or do you always look like that? As I said, I’ve never seen a creature like you before. What are you?”

He could not tell her. In the end, he had left town. It was not long ago at all. Perhaps a year, perhaps even two. That’s when he had settled in the marsh outside town. He could not tell her the truth. How was she supposed to reply? No, he could not do that to her, but he was getting older and his heart ached to be with her again, to talk with her. But he could not.

Yet this world was hers. She was the wielder of an element of harmony, but would she be all right? Butterscotch was also still out there. No, not Butterscotch, a much more dangerous pony and half-alicorn calling himself Swirl the Smart. Or Swirl the Swift. Could she really take all those threats on? What little he could do, he would have to.

There was still a little strength left in him from Butterscotch’s spell. It was a flickering candle in a storm of tiredness. But it burned so brightly. And it was warm too. There was another sensation on his bare skin. The amulet. It burned with magic. The spell recharged and intensified. The wick was nearly burnt to the end but there was still wax around it. He had to make his last effort count; there would only be one try.

Lars opened his eyes again and found himself standing slouched, with shaking knees and sword in hand. King Sombra was halfway towards the glowing portal at the opposite side of the room. Confusion suffused his serious countenance.

“No. Impossible,” he hissed and hurried back towards the human. Lars’ hands felt like they moved on their own. The spear banged into his blade. The force nearly floored him, but Lars dug his heels in. His face reflected in King Sombra’s helmet. He could not recognise the man staring back at him. It had become a battle between two demons, one powered by crystals, the other by love.

Flames leapt from the sword and on to the spear. King Sombra tried to release it, but Lars took his wrist with his left hand. Wasn’t the shoulder broken? The flames ate the spear in no time and spread up King Sombra’s arm, under his armour, but would not touch Lars’ hand. The king roared in pain and finally pushed Lars away.

“You cannot defeat me for I have to win this battle.” Lars’ voice shook from everything working against him but spoke despite it all. “You who have no goal have no sight of victory. You lost before you laid hand on me.”

King Sombra bared his teeth. They were not human, but more like fangs, fit to break crystals or rip off meat. Green fire blazed in his hands. Lars put up his sword. King Sombra threw the fireballs and Lars soaked them up with his blade. Confidence and passion burned in his eyes, and the fire on his sword exploded with power. The king drew back with a hiss. His mantle caught fire and he threw it to the ground. “It ends here,” he said with fury contorting his face into a hideous mask of malice.

“You’re right, it will, but you got serious too late. Victory is mine.”

The king rushed forth with claws on his hand like steel daggers. They aimed for Lars’ life, but his limbs flowed with magic and parried everything. He worked himself closer and closer with King Sombra getting nearer and nearer. The daggers sank into his shoulders and drew Lars’ blood in a deadly vice attack. His own sword slipped past the defences. The flaming blade melted the metal armour and sank into the vulnerable body within. King Sombra clenched his teeth in fury and blind rage. Green completely overtook his eyes as he looked at Lars. Purple smoke billowed out of the corners. Then he screamed.

Flames licked his neck from deep within the armour. They swallowed his face so only his horn jutted out. At last he released Lars and fell back. He did not get a chance to hit the ground. His body evaporated into smoke. The armour was gone, but King Sombra’s angry face, again a unicorn, emerged from the cloud. His baleful eyes cursed Lars before the flames ate him completely.

Lars still stood. He laughed. He threw his head back and the laughter rolled like an avalanche, picking up momentum as it went. And then it crashed suddenly and Lars was on the floor. Blood streamed from his shoulders. His left arm was unresponsive. His legs were jelly. He commanded his body to drag him forward but nothing happened.

The portal was still far away. Was it vanishing? Everything was getting so dark and hazy. There was nothing more he could do. He had already given it his all and beyond that. At last the threat was over and he was allowed rest. But if he could just get to the portal. None of his extremities would obey him. Even his vision was giving up the spirit.

His adventure was over. He had come looking for a friend but found a danger enough to destroy the world. No one would ever know of his efforts. Only Butterscotch would, and that pony would hold true to his words and accost Twilight Sparkle not long after her coronation, but that is another story.

Author's Note:

This is where I have decided to end the story, and I can finally move on to other things. With support however I'd be willing to write a short after-series to show what became of human Lars Leland after his adventures in Equestria. With no support, well, it will only be me who will know the end then. Probably better that way. Now you can imagine yourself what would become of him. Peaceful death? More adventures? The end of one story is only the beginning of another.