The Purest Amethyst

by BOM

Chapter Ten

Spike’s options flashed through his mind. He was pretty sure that he could survive jumping out of the window and running away to live in the Everfree Forest; or, he could go to Twilight and ask her to send him back in time so he could warn himself that this would happen. He then had a very strange idea about asking Apple Bloom if she’d like to join them, lingering on that image much longer than he should of.

“Ma’ sis’ always said it’s fine for a colt to look,” Apple Bloom paused, “as long as it’s with his eyes and not ‘is hooves.”

Spike realised he had gone for a different and far more stupid option. As he sat with his claws still on Sweetie Belle’s flanks, a blush bloomed on his face that made his scales turn from purple to crimson.

He quickly took his claws back, plastering them to his sides, before hopping off the bed.

“We-I-Sweetie-ill-massage-um…”

Apple Bloom gave Spike a look that made him feel like he was four years old and had just stuck his claw in the cookie jar, before Sweetie Belle saved him from her friends unrelenting leer.

“It’s ok Bloom, Spike was just giving me a massage.” This only gained a cocked eye brow from Apple Bloom, “I mean, he was doing some magical therapy and the cutie mark is like the centre of magic for the body, or something.”

“Is that right now?” Apple Bloom turned to Spike, scrutinising the legitimacy of Sweetie Belle’s story.

“Um… yeah, the cutie mark is the magical ‘heart’ in all ponies, so it was the best place to channel my fire through.”

“So she’s cured is she?”

“Uh…no, I didn’t cure her.” Spike was finding the floor very interesting at this point, “my fire just helps Sweetie’s body fight the virus.”

Looking up at Sweetie Belle now, it was clear that it was working. Her coat had almost returned to its normal colour, her ears had perked up and she was sporting an adorable smile.

“Well a’ guess that makes sense,” Apple Bloom shrugged, “jus’ don’t let Scoots catch yu’, she’ll bite yu’ claws off.”

Spike let out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding.

“Where is Scootaloo anyway?” asked Sweetie Belle.

“She’s jus’ down stairs cleanin’ her scooter, we ran through a muddy puddle on the way over, a’ swear she loves that thing more than life itself.” Apple Bloom trotted over and sat on the end of the bed.

As if on cue an orange blur shot through the door. Scootaloo slammed the door behind her, holding it closed, acting as a pony doorstop.

“Your sister’s crazy!” Scootaloo pointed at Sweetie Belle, “she made me wash my hooves four times before I could even come inside! Plus then she said something about straightening my mane and a fringe and and aaaah!” She jumped at a small bang downstairs.

Spike couldn’t help but giggle into his claw and he could see the other two were struggling to keep their amusement hidden.

Scootaloo didn’t seem to notice. “Why is it so hot in here?” she said, fanning herself with her hoof.

“Oh right.” Spike opened the window, letting in a welcomed wave of fresh air.

The orange Pegasus stood there for a second, confused, before shaking her head and making her way over to join Apple Bloom.

“Hey Sweetie Belle, Rarity told us you were sick, how you doing?”

“Oh she’s feelin’ muuuuuuch better, aint that right Spike?” winked Apple Bloom.

“Hey,” snapped Sweetie Bell, “Spike was just trying to make me better, that’s all.”

“And yu’ gonna’ tell me yu’ didn’t enjoy it?”

It looked like somepony had just thrown a bucket of red paint over Sweetie Belle. Her entire body turned rigid and he ears fell flat against her head as she looked down at her hooves’.

“Well..I… it was…um…I…” Sweetie Belle muttered.

“What are you two talking about?” Scootaloo asked.

“Nothing!” Sweetie Belle yelled.

“Oh yeah nothin’,” concurred Apple Bloom, a large grin forming on her face, “jus’ that Spike and Sweetie Belle were mmm bbrr mm…”

Apple Bloom never finished her sentence, as a white hoof shot into her mouth.

“I said it was nothing!” Sweetie Belle let out a laugh that wouldn’t have fooled Snips and Snails.

“Oh Celestia,” Scootaloo turned from Sweetie Belle to Spike, “you two weren’t kissing were you.” She seemed to gag at the thought.

Spike suddenly choked, spluttering out small wafts of emerald fire as he desperately clawed for breath. He could feel his eye’s watering as he patted his fist against his chest in an attempt to steady his breathing. Finally soaking in long welcome streams of air, Spike caught a glimpse of Sweetie Belle and found that she was staring straight back at him. He broke eye contact the moment he gazed into those glamorous green gems.

“Um… n-no we weren’t kissing,” mumbled Sweetie Belle.

Spike stole a glance at her. Sweetie Belle too had shied away from him, instead finding great interest in her covers as she prodded them nervously with her hooves.

“Sweetie Belle an’ Spike sitting in a tree, K I S S I N G,” sang Apple Bloom.

“Shut uuuup!” whined Sweetie Belle.

“First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes Sweetie with a filly carriage!”

A thick fog of awkward engulfed the room. Apple Bloom’s words hung like an anvil suspended by a single strand of hair. Sweetie Belle fiddled with her hair as she continued to prod her covers, whilst Spike was very much re-considering jumping out the window.

Spike had never given much thought to kissing fillies. Sure he had day dreamed (more times than he cared to admit) about kissing Rarity. But whenever he imagined that, he had always seen it like eating a nice looking gem, just to savour the taste much rather than any kind of experience. That somehow felt wrong when he thought about Sweetie Belle, she deserved more than somepony who only wanted a quick peck.

She’d want our first kiss to be special, to mean something.

In that moment Spike realized something; something that none of his power ponies comics had prepared him for, something that Twilight had never taught him and something which had always been there but he had never admitted. He wanted his first to be special too. Spike gazed at Sweetie Belle, past her purple and pink mane, past her snow white coat and past her shimmering eyes. And Spike saw the spark which birthed his fire, which gave him purpose. Sweetie Belle was a pony he wanted to share every experience with.

With the Sisters as my witness, I will make our first kiss special!

Spike set his sights on the bed. His path would be long and treacherous, but he would not falter. The soft carpet felt like tar, gripping him in place as he waded towards his destination. A thousand chestnut eyes stared as Spike ascended the bed, attempting to seed doubt in his mind.

Sweetie Belle sat staring at Spike, her pools of green reflected the uncertainty of the filly in front of him. Her statue-like stature well aware of the various pairs of eyes lingering on them. Her hooves, quivering with anticipation as Spike perched himself opposite her.

It would be so easy, thought Spike. I could just lean forward and that would be that, so quick, so easy, so simple… But that’s not what she wants… And it’s not what I want… We have nothing to prove.

Spike wrapped his arms around Sweetie Belle, pulling her close to him. He could feel her heart beat as it pounded into his chest, threatening to burst through the both of them. Every hair on her body stood on end, sending small strands of static coursing through Spike. Each second seemed to take an eternity, but finally she relaxed into his arms. Letting her own hooves hang loosely around him as she nuzzled into his shoulder. The soft caress of her fur sent shivers through Spike’s scales, making his tail sway happily from side to side. Spike gave Sweetie a small squeeze, which she returned in kind. Closing his eyes, Spike lightly rested his head on top of hers. Their embrace creating a shield which nopony could penetrate and no force of nature could shatter. Their only company was their hearts, as they danced to their partners beat.

Finally they broke apart, leaving the safety of their bubble to confront the world. Spike sat upright against the end of the bed, whilst Sweetie Belle leant against him; resting her head on his shoulder. Spike decided then and there that the feeling of her fur brushing against his scales was never going to get old.

“You know, the two of you make a really cute couple.” The voice of Scootaloo brought Spike back to reality.

Scootaloo’s expression was like trying to read a book with no pages. It was clear that she was trying to find the sudden display of emotion ‘gross’. But her natural instincts seemed to be prevailing as she just sat there sporting a huge grin. Whereas Apple Bloom had her mouth agape, with a dumfounded expression plastered to her face. Her eyes were gazing straight at Spike and Sweetie Belle, yet her mind seemed to be leagues away.

“Quit staring Bloom.” Scootaloo gave Apple Bloom a light smack on the back of the head.

Sweetie Belle let out a light giggle before nestling up closer to Spike. He wrapped his arm around her, snuggling his head against hers as they watched Apple Bloom give Scootaloo a shove in return.

“Ah weren’t starin’,” Apple Bloom stated defensively

“Just taking notes for when you ask Rumble out?” Scootaloo fell onto her back as she laughed at her own joke and Spike could feel Sweetie Belle fighting to stifle her own giggle.

“NO! Well ah mean… Shut up Scoot!”

Spike continued to watch the two fillies argue with each other, exchanging pointless jabs with no peaceful resolution in sight. Feeling a soft nudge in his side, Spike looked down at Sweetie Belle. He could very happily gaze into those two pools of green for the rest of his life, their chalk owner seemed to shine as her purple shaded mane hung adorably over her eyes; it would be a perfect moment, if it weren’t for that irritating background noise.

“We should probably break them up, don’t you think?” Sweetie Belle asked.

As much as Spike hated to admit it, if they didn’t intervene soon then the girls small squabble could escalate pretty quickly.

“Just ten more seconds.” Spike was not ready to leave his comfy companion just yet.

Sweetie Belle gave another adorable giggle, before politely untangling herself from a rather disappointed Spike. She jumped off the bed and made her way over to her chest. Digging her head in, she promptly started throwing things out, scattering them all over the floor. Finally she held onto a large flat box and made her way back onto the bed.

“Hey, GIRLS!” Sweetie yelled. It did the trick, as she got both Apple Bloom’s and Scootaloo’s attention. “Want to play a game?”

Now that he had a clear view of the box, Spike could make out the title inscribed on it. ‘Ponopoly’.

This is either going to go well or horrendously badly.

“I want the iron,” Apple Bloom and Scootaloo shouted simultaneously.

*

The icy current swept through Blood Beak’s feathers, the cold creeping over him as though it were a thousand crawling centipedes. Holding on desperately to the reigns as the gale force winds lashed relentlessly, threatening to throw him from his ride. Pulling his cloak tighter around him did little to solve the issue.

Through the thick torrent of snow Blood Beak could hardly see the coal black scales which he was perched on. The heat radiating from them did nothing to alleviate the freezing winds which continued to batter against him.

A sharp pain pounded through his head. Instinctively gripping the reigns even tighter, he rubbed his forehead with his other talon. What he wouldn’t give for some powdered dragon scale right about now. But he had learnt his lesson from earlier, when he had lost an entire flask to the wind’s cruel abyss. Blood Beak tried to focus on something other than the throbbing pain thrashing around in his skull or the fact that the temperature was threatening to freeze his blood or that he hadn’t eaten a meagre morsel since they had set off. Now that he thought on it, there wasn’t much else he could think about.

A familiar scent caught Blood Beak’s attention. Looking off to his right all he could see was the thrashing blizzard as it danced to the rhythm of chaos. But, through the howling winds and the wet snow, Blood Beak could smell the sweet aroma of fresh blood. It was pumping around its host at an alarming rate, trying desperately to carry oxygen around its owner. The speed was somewhat spoiling the taste, however at this point it felt like eons since Blood Beak had smelled anything other than his own and that of his pet, so he cared little if the blood was a little off.

Sure enough through the mist came a familiar face, a griffon with black feathers, a white coat and a strong beak flew over so he was just within ear shot. The sound of the griffon’s steel armour clanking together could be heard even over the wails of the storm. The insignia engraved on his neck plate was a heart, with trails of red running down from its sides.

Blood Beak found himself envious of the guard. His perfectly preened coat had hardly a feather out of place, despite the thrashing winds. His beak looked tough enough to crack solid rock and that’s if he didn’t just use his bare talons. Blood Beak was no such specimen. His own beak was thin and brittle, his feathers were grey before his time and he had no fur to speak of, leaving his hind naked to nature’s cruel pranks. His wings were bent at angles that made flight impossible. But Blood Beak’s most disturbing feature was his horn. A crooked crimson centre piece, which sprouted out of his head. The skin twisted and curled around it, clinging on like a swarm of leeches, fat and rotting.

“My Lord!” the griffon yelled, catching Blood Beak’s attention.

The guard respectfully bowed his head. And quite right that he did too, many had lost their lives for not paying the proper respects. Blood Beak gestured for him to continue.

“We have found it my Lord.”

Blood Beak allowed a smile to creep onto his beak.

“Lead the way.”

Bowing his head again, the armoured griffon flew in front of Blood Beak and led his ride down towards the snow covered ground.

The landing came far sooner and far harder than Blood Beak would have liked, almost sending his already throbbing head into a full blown migraine. He needed to blow off some steam. Jumping off his ride, Blood Beak took in the sight of his creature. From head to tail it was the size of a large watch tower, its sleek black scales shone in the faint moonlight and two great bat like wings were tucked away at it’s sides.

The dragon turned to face Blood Beak, two sapphire eyes staring down at him. The beast’s pupils were fat with fear, reminding Blood Beak more of a terrified trembling rabbit than ones belonging to a ‘great’ leviathan. The dread seeped into the creature’s blood, seasoning the delicacy rushing through its veins. The aroma was intoxicating, sending shivers down Blood Beak’s spine. He would have liked nothing better than to claw and gnaw into that juicy hide. But he composed himself, knowing that the blood rage had claimed many of his kind before.

But it will not claim me.

As Blood Beak picked up the chain connecting to the dragon’s muzzle, it let out a pathetic whimper, sounding like a dog that had been kicked just the right amount of times. The muzzle was a two part cage of steel covering the full snout of the dragon and was held together by locks almost the size of Blood Beak. If unfastened they would allow the beast full use of its mouth, however when locked the muzzle created a vice grip, forcing the potential fire hazard shut. The contraption was attached by four screws drilled directly into its skin.

He gave a firm tug on the chain, but the dragon defiantly turned its head away. The chain in Blood Beak’s talon felt the tiniest hint of resistance.
Sending a silent thanks to the Winter Lord, Blood Beak licked his beak.

Wrapping the frost coated chain around his wrist, freed up both his talons. Rummaging through a set of pouches that hung around Blood Beak’s neck, he retrieved a single vial. Its contents swam red, leaving scarlet stains against the glass as he cradled the vial. The howling winds masked the pop as the vial was uncorked, an armada of aromas swarming Blood Beak’s senses, causing him to tingle from the tip of his crooked horn to the end of his furless tail.

He could taste the tendrils of power seeping from the blood. Most creatures were blind to the subtlety of blood manipulation, but Blood Beak found it more real than any physical experience. He could hear its pain, exposed and vulnerable. It longed to flow around a master once more, providing life as it pumped through the veins of its host.

Outstretching a single talon Blood Beak latched onto the delicate tendrils, smiling as the perversion began. He could hear screaming, a scream only he could hear. The tortured breaths and last thoughts of the blood’s previous host screeched delight into his eardrums as they were ripped from the red substance.

Next came the visions. A life time of images flashed in front of Blood Beak’s eyes; he spotted a cub griffon in school; an older version of the cub placing a ring on their partners talon; then came the arrow, a single thin wooden shaft protruded out if his chest, then darkness. Contorting his talon slightly Blood Beak plucked the memories from their host.

Without warning, waves of emotions crashed against him. Blood Beak closed his eyes as ripples of joy, despair, love and hate intertwined and threatened to overwhelm him. They wrestled with him, refusing to back down, refusing to go quietly. This one was strong, but Blood Beak had dealt with stronger. A violent twist of his wrist shredded away the emotions, scattering them to void.

As he opened his eyes a tiny white light rose up out of the vial, it would have blended into the storm if the snow didn’t bend and dance around it, like insects worshipping a lamp. It rose up to eye level, shining as if darkness was a mere myth.

Blood Beak took the ball in his palm, taking one look before clenching his talon into a fist. Thick black veins began to bulge out of his fist. Growing like vines they spread and polluted the white streams of light creeping through the thin gaps in his talon, turning them sour and grey. Unclenching his fist, the light had turned a sickly green, radiating blackness and decay as it slowly sunk back down into the vial.

The moment it had re-joined its kin, Blood Beak felt a rush of energy surge through him. His talon tips tingled as he felt a series of invisible strings attach themselves, linking him to the blood. Like a masterful puppeteer he made the red substance dance for him. Rising it out of the vial he guided it through the storm.
The blood bubbled and boiled furiously, like a sphere of lava, as he bent and melded it into shape. The polluted substance bent to his will, forming into a razor coated whip which he gripped as though it were solid. The cruel crimson weapon spasmed in anticipation.

Blood Beak lashed at his snivelling dragon. The whip tore through its scales like they were rags, causing the creature to screech in agony. It tried to move away but was met with another lash, and another, and another, until it finally collapsed on the ice cold snow and accepted its punishment. Blood Beak lost count of how many times he beat his pet. Each lash caused his own blood to boil, sending rivers of excitement racing through him. Each lash felt better than the last, every howl was music to his ears and the stench of fear was more enticing than the sweetest perfume.
He stopped only when his arm finally tired.

Looking over his handy work Blood Beak couldn’t help but smile. Red stained the snow as it leaked from at least a dozen different deep gashes. The one across the eye was especially pleasing, the blood staining the quivering pupil. The dragon’s wings spasmed and its tail lay limp.

His guard stood at attention, legs and neck straight, beak facing forward and eyes staring into the storms abyss. Blood Beak doubted he had moved during the entire ordeal, he didn’t even shiver as the cold wind sent another icy current their way. Blood Beak cursed the guards discipline as he couldn’t help but pull his coat tighter around himself in an attempt to keep out the assaulting temperature.

As Blood Beak studied his guards statue like demine he realised he didn’t even know the guards name. It wasn’t that much of a surprise seeing that his guards were chosen for him. He had far more important things to worry about than what top ranking soldier would accompany him. None the less, Blood Beak was curious who had been chosen to ‘protect’ him on this rather dangerous, but more importantly, very secret mission.

“What’s your name soldier,” Blood Beak asked as he approached the guard

“Leon my Lord, Captain of the Monasteries Second Battalion,” he shouted, sounding like a well-rehearsed speech.

Must have been handpicked from a group of at least twenty just like him, thought Blood Beak. Probably has some kind of family ties, would have taken far more than skill to be picked for this mission.

Blood Beak turned back to his dragon. Pulling on invisible strings, he felt the blond bend to his desires. Slivering around the dragon’s neck, the whip bit into shattered scales. The dragon didn’t have the strength to even whimper. Giving his red abomination a test tug, it held firm, having latched onto his pet.

Pulling on the make shift leash, Blood Beak felt the blood magnitude his strength more than tenfold. With little effort he began to drag his beaten ride through the snow. The dragon pined and whined as the coil tightened around its neck and hauled it along. It attempted to beat the red leash away with a claw, but was met only with more pain as Blood Beak sent a wave of power shivering through the whip. His dragon tried its best to limp along, in an attempt to alleviate its constricted air way.

“Very good captain, lead the way.” Blood Beak dragged his pet along, following his guard as they made their way deeper into the storm.

The wasteland seemed never ending, the repeated tormenting torrent of snow made it impossible for Blood Beak to see anything more than a few feet away. The icy droplets were beginning to melt through his cloak, freezing his feathers as the biting temperature gnawed away at him. Trudging through the ever thickening snow, his talons began to sink deeper and deeper into the pastel swamp. The wrenching numbness spread through him like a disease, first devouring his hind legs before creeping to less desired areas.

First all Blood Beak saw was a small black speck in the distance, as they drew closer the speck began to grow. After a little while the speck began to mould into a mountain, standing completely isolated from the nearby range. Blood Beak could make out jagged spikes protruding out the snow covered behemoth. He found himself constantly checking over his shoulder the closer they got, he had the sickening feeling that something was watching him.

When he finally got to the base Blood Beak found himself unimpressed, it couldn’t have been more than six thousand feet high, pitiful in comparison to the mountains of his home country. He began to scrape away some of the snow, his talon was so numb it no longer shivered as he dug through centuries of the compacted sheet. Finally he found rock but something felt, wrong. The stone was smooth and warm, untouched by the cold. Retracting his claw he noticed small black specks sparkling on the tips of his talon.

Moving over to his pet Blood Beak detached the whip around its neck and guided the blood back into its vial. Taking out a small bronze key from one of his pouches, he inserted it into one of the padlocks that bound the dragon’s muzzle shut. Turning it brought the familiar sound of moving cogs as the padlock unlocked. Letting out a grateful sigh that the mechanisms hadn’t frozen over, he unlocked the other three.

His pet stretched its jaw as wide as it could, letting out a pathetic squeal. Those sapphire eyes turned to Blood Beak, hatred burning within them. He knew what was about to happen as the dragon began to shiver from head to tail and it wasn’t from the cold. Bringing out a familiar vial, the dragon’s eyes turned straight to it. Those fires of hatred quickly burnt to ashes, rising from them was a paralyzing fear that gripped stronger than any muzzle. The beast slowly bowed its head towards Blood Beak.

Pointing towards the spot which he had dug, the dragon let out a wave of scorching fire. Orange and yellow crashed against snow, causing clouds of steam to erupt from the mountain side. The wave of heat was a relief for Blood Beak, as feeling slowly began to return to his body.

He signalled his pet to stop and handed the key and reigns to his guard. When the steam cleared, where there had once been snow was now a wall of black crystal. The mountains surface was twisted and deformed, it was unnerving and yet looked familiar to Blood Beak. Inspecting the canvas closer he stepped back in shock. Littered across the mountain side were the shapes of pony faces, young and old, colt and mare, their eyes were wide with terror and their mouths screaming. Some were isolated whilst others overlapped, but they all shared the same expression, fear and pain.

For a moment Blood Beak considered turning back, but, taking a deep breath he placed his talon against the crystal mountain and began channelling his energy in an attempt to find an opening.

A tsunami of voices assaulted him.

“Help us!” “Turn back, turn back” “Where am I?”

“Make it stop, please… make it stop” “Save us!”

“How did I get here?”

“Mummy… I want my Mummy” “He’s here, please, don’t let him find me”

The pained pleas wracked Blood Beak’s mind as he fought for control. The bog of whispers threatened to drown him as he continued to search. Just as he was about to give in, a new voice spoke.

“I’m here,” this one held no desperation nor anguish, instead it dripped with hatred and loathing.

Blood Beak swiftly retracted his talon, the voices ceased as if they had never existed, now replaced by the wailing winds. He knew this was the place now, after years of tearing through countless scrolls and texts, and after hours upon hours of deciphering ancient languages long forgotten, he had come to a place only a few even knew of in myth.

Unsheathing a small dagger, Blood Beak glided it across his talon, applying just enough pressure to cause a thin trickle of blood to sliver out. Guiding his blood, he spattered it against the black crystal. With but a thought, the ruby substance seeped into the mountain.

As one, every eye on the mountain shone a sickly red, their glowing pupils melting the snow covering the black behemoth and illuminating the area in a crimson glow. It reminded Blood Beak of a pony Heart’s Warming Eve tree, only black as shadow and covered in tormented carvings.

The section in front of Blood Beak started sizzling. The black crystal had begun to boil, magenta flames sprouting from its base, slithering along the mountain’s surface to form the outline of an arch. The solid crystal disintegrated before Blood Beak’s eyes, the cackling blaze engulfing the section inside the arch. As quickly as they came, the flames sizzled out. Where they had burned now stood an entrance into the mountain.

The archway was around seven feet high and only wide enough for one griffon to pass through at a time. What troubled Blood Beak however was that no light seemed able to pierce the tunnel before him, the darkness almost appeared alive, shifting, restless, as though it would snuff out any that dared trespass.

Leaving the guard to keep an eye on his dragon outside, Blood Beak made his way into the tunnel. The walls in the tunnel had the same population of tormented pony faces decorating their canvas, their desperate gaze seemed to follow Blood Beak as he made his way further inside. Before long the dark was all consuming and Blood Beak couldn’t see his own talon in front of his face. Using the wall as a guide he felt his way deeper into the heart of the mountain.

The utter blackness began toying with his senses. On more than one occasion Blood Beak thought he saw movement in the corner of his eye, voices whispered secrets and promises in the back of his mind and he could feel deep heated breaths against his neck, but when he felt around for the culprit, all he grasped was the endless abyss.

The ground began to steepen and he could feel himself walking up a spiralling path. As he turned around the bending slope, he caught sight of a faint blue mist. When he approached, the mist retreated, matching his pace as he made his way towards it. Although the mist should have brought some comfort to Blood Beak, now having at least some guide, instead it only put him less at ease; he couldn’t shake the feeling that the mist was watching him.

The mist shifted and flowed, yet Blood Beak could feel no wind. It almost felt like it was toying with him. He thought he saw outlines of screaming faces, yet anytime he tried to focus on them, they faded into the ever changing tide of the mist.

Finally it led him to the end of the tunnel which opened up into a large domed room. The ground was covered in the turquoise fog, so thick that Blood beak couldn’t see the floor. Hanging on the walls were lit torches, their fires burning dark magenta and green. At the centre of the room was a clear yellow pyramid, it sparkled in the unnatural torch light, shimmering with the radiance of the sun. As Blood Beak approached, he could see inside the shining pyramid was a large block of ice, encased within was a pool of darkness. It looked as though a black hole had been frozen for all time within a block of ice and if it were set free, it would devour anything that came within reach.

Blood Beak studied the yellow barrier, hovering his talon over its surface he could feel the regalness of the sun radiating off its glowing surface. Licking his beak, he could taste the tendrils of power which held the spell together.

No doubt the work of Celestia, this will not be easy.

Taking his already cut talon, he once again glided his blade along it, a brief twitch of pain coursing through him as the blade did its work. Pinching the cut caused blood to dribble out onto his palm. Blood Beak sent a quick silent prayer to the Winter Lord, before placing his bleeding talon against the barriers surface.

The pain was immediate, it felt as though he had placed his talon against the sun itself, as the barrier scorched his flesh. Blood Beak cried out as his entire body began to spasm; using his other talon as support, he held his bleeding one against the barrier. The pain assaulted his brain with a thousand stinging needles, sweat dripped freely from his forehead as he tried desperately to concentrate.

Blood Beak channelled his energy to ensure the wound didn’t cauterize, allowing his blood to spread freely onto the barriers shimmering surface. Slowly his blood began to spread. Red tendrils slivered along the pyramids surface, covering it in a cobweb of crimson. Like veins carrying disease they turned a dark purple and sickly green boils began to sprout across the golden barrier. It began to rot away and crumble.

The polluted veins had crawled across the barriers entire surface, having turned it from magnificent gold to a faded maize. With an agonised cry, the barrier shattered. Yellow flakes, diseased and rotting, crumbled feebly to the ground.

Blood Beak collapsed on the mist covered floor, clutching his quivering talon. It was black as soot, burnt to a crisp, he couldn’t move it for fear of the pain that would follow. Using his un-maimed talon, he took a small bottle out form his cloak, its contents were a purple and orange powder. Uncorking it and stuffing it up to his nostril, Blood Beak inhaled deeply.

His head swam with a sea of rainbows as the crushed dragon scale spread through his body. The spasms of pain were replaced with minor trembling as all feeling lifted from his body. Blood Beak took some long drawn out breaths as he slowly regained control of his own movements. His body was numb, his head was numb and most importantly, his talon was numb. And despite it seeming like a terrible idea, he righted himself.

The yellow barrier was destroyed, revealing the block of ice. Inside it, Blood Beak could see that the trapped spectre was moving. The pool of blackness was squirming within its frozen prison, throwing itself against the walls of its confinement. A small chip appeared on the wall closest to Blood Beak. The shadow crashed against the chip, widening it into a crack. The shadow continued to bat against the weakening wall, with each attempt bringing it closer to freedom. Blood Beak readied himself, taking a few long deep breaths he stood up tall, cradling his black talon against his chest. Two fresh cracks appeared on the ice, then another.

The block exploded, sending chunks of ice flying across the room which Blood Beak shielded his face from. Out the shattered prison rose a wave of shifting shadows, twice the size of Blood Beak and just as wide, it filled him with a sense of dread and despair. An angry cry erupted from the darkness, carrying an all-consuming hatred that froze the blood in Blood Beak’s veins. The shadow began to morph, collecting itself into a body, the body of a pony. His coat contorted into a grim grey. A flowing black mane and tail formed. Piercing red pupils shone with unbridled anger and sharpened teeth stretched into a wicked smile.

“King Sombra.” Blood Beak bowed his head towards the tyrant pony

Sombra looked around the room, glimpses of confusion etched on his face.

“Where am I?” His voice carried as much venom as a snake and sounded just as treacherous.

“Your Majesty, this was the prison of your banishment,”

“Banishment?” An edge of anger had entered his voice and Blood Beak had to force himself to stay put.

“Yes your Majesty, following your… mishap at the hands of Princess Celestia and Princess Luna, you have been imprisoned here for over one thousand years,”

There was a long silence that made Blood Beak feel uneasy, until he finally heard the faint clop of hooves as Sombra approached. “And you are?”

“I am Blood Beak, Brother to the order of Ichor, emissary of the Griffon Empire and humble servant to The Dragon Emperor Chalclaw, The Undying,” Blood Beak raised his head, “who extends his talon in friendship towards you, King Sombra.”

Sombra’s expression was unreadable, as cold and unforgiving as the storm that raged outside. His eyes shone a lime green as they darted to Blood Beak’s charred talon, which he still cradled against his chest. The storm grey stallion turned away from Blood Beak, studying the layout of the place that had until moments ago been his prison.

“What do you want?” His voice seemed to carry the authority of time itself.

“My Liege?”

“As I recall, the griffons were a barbaric race ravaged by infighting and cannibalism,” Sombra paused, “traits I much admired, so I doubt you freeing me from my thousand year imprisonment was an act of charity.”

Blood beak could feel beads of cold sweat dripping down his forehead.

“So I ask again,” Sombra turned with a look of pure malice, “what do you want!” his voice boomed throughout the mountain.

Blood Beak smiled, “The myths do you little justice, King Sombra, we seek an alliance.” Sombra’s expression turned back to one of stone, yet this made Blood Beak feel even less at ease.

The tip of Sombra’s horn began to flare black. His shadow expanded beyond what the torch light should have permitted. As it grew, it began to morph from the powerful proud reflection of its owner, into a hideous ghoulish figure. Hooves became claws, its body stood hunched over on only two legs and its sneering smile revealed rows upon rows of cackling razor sharp teeth.

“And what will I gain from this alliance?” Sombra said mockingly.

The nightmarish shadow detached itself entirely from Sombra, swimming across the fog toward Blood Beak. It began to divide and multiply until there were around a six of the Tartarusish creatures. Two slivered over to guard the exit, whilst the rest slowly circled Blood Beak, like sharks smelling fresh blood.

“We know you desire the Crystal Empire,” Blood Beak did his best to keep any fear out of his voice, “we can help you take it.”

He carefully reached into his cloak and, as silently as he could, uncorked one of his vials.

“Not only that but you will be the Griffon Empire’s most trusted ally, you shall command your own legion and as well as that, as a gift, you will receive your own personal dragon.”

Sombra’s ears twitched as Blood Beak uttered that final word. Despite his hardened expression, Blood beak could see that in those calculating eyes, Sombra’s mind was going a mile a minute.

“You should know that I don’t tolerate being lied to.” The shadows surrounding Blood Beak had cease cackling and now eyed him with a feral hunger.

“I speak only the truth, your Worship.” Blood beak bowed his head till his beak practically kissed the floor.

“The dragons are a proud and powerful race, untameable as the seas, enduring as the mountains and uncaring towards the rest of the world, for you to have bartered any kind of alliance with them is impossible.” An edge of anger was polluting Sombra’s otherwise calm tone.

“A lot can change in one thousand years.”

The Shadows surrounding Blood Beak rose up from the ground. Standing over seven feet tall, their flowing bodies turned into solid jet black crystal. The crystal golems brandished wicked halberds and spears with their cruel claws, their red glowing eyes looking down upon Blood Beak.

“And yet so much stays the same.” Sombra paused, sending an icy chill down Blood Beak’s spine, “such as the arrogance of griffons.”

Blood Beak instantly stood at attention, the deal was going south, he could feel it. Beginning to enforce his will into the contents of the vial, he readied himself. If even only half the myths of King Sombra were true, Blood Beak very much doubted he would even survive a few minutes against him. Desperately wracking his brain, Blood Beak searched for some trick or bargain that would get him out of this place with his hind intact.

“The Princess’s have grown in strength and numbers since you last faced them, you need our help to conquer the Crystal Empire.”

Blood Beak was surprised that the Sombra’s glare didn’t kill him where he stood, “I do not need your help!” the anger laced in his voice chilled Blood Beak to the bone.

Sombra’s horn became fully encased in his shadowy aura, “The power of the Crystal ponies shall be mine and mine alone!”

Sombra trotted slowly towards Blood Beak, every step stomped more terror into his heart and each one seemed to take an eternity. The moment Sombra passed him, Blood Beaks shoulders relaxed just a little as the stallion made his way towards the exit.

“Oh and one more thing.” Blood Beak could feel his skin crawl as Sombra’s piercing eyes fell upon him, “I have a message for this Chalclaw… Not to interfere with my plans, he may not be my ally, but he does not want be for an enemy.”

“I will deliver your message.” It took all of Blood Beak’s will power to keep the quiver out of his voce.

“But you are the message,” hissed Sombra

The crystal golems surrounding Blood Beak each let out a shattering cry as they stabbed and hacked at him. Manipulating the contents of his vial, Blood Beak through a dome of blood around him, encasing himself in a protective shield. The force of the blows shook the crimson barrier, causing Blood Beak to almost lose his balance, but it held strong. The mindless husks continued to batter against it, causing small cracks to appear which Blood Beak did his best to close up.

The walls of the room began to melt, the proud black crystals were dribbling down like tar. The room shook as huge chunks of the ceiling began to crumble and crash to the ground. One large chunk of crystal crushed one of the golems assaulting Blood Beak’s shield, sending its shattered remains flying across the room.

Sombra’s body turned to gas before Blood Beak’s eyes, floating around like a cloud of nightmare come to life. The wailing cloud of darkness seeped into one of the tar pit walls, causing the entire mountain to violently shake. The mountain disintegrated into a screaming hurricane of the shadow, thrashing in a vacuum filled only with darkness. The floor beneath Blood Beak gave way as it too turned to shadow and joined the hurricane. Blood Beak, still enclosed in his crimson dome, was flung around by the whipping winds until he was finally released from its angry grip and thrown out into the world. His head spun, caught between two storms his eyes continually flashed between black and white as he spiralled towards the ground.

The impact was about as comfortable as he’d expected. His crimson dome fortunately absorbed most of the impact, causing it to shatter into smithereens. Blood Beak yelled out in pain as he lay in the cold snow. His wrist felt like someone had smashed it repeatedly with a war hammer, meaning it was almost definitely broken. At that moment he would have liked nothing better than to lay in the storm till it covered him in a warm white blanket from which he would never have to rise.

Pushing those thoughts aside, he forced himself to stand. The mountain was gone as if it had never been there, completely consumed by Sombra into his hurricane of shadow. Looking off into the distance he could see the thrashing twister heading further north. He could hear cries of pain erupting from the all-consuming blackness even from this distance. Despite all he had endured and suffered, Blood Beak couldn’t help but let a smile creep onto his beak.

Well then… Plan B.

Comments

[Grahf]

but he does not want be for an enemy

me

nice to see this update again

[RainbowShyBrony]

Woah! Where did that come from?! It went from cute romantic to adventure and it was amazing! Well done sir! ...er... Or malady. It doesn't matter what it is. That was awesome. You have me very intrigued to see what comes next. I assume it's a take on the Crystal Empire episode with King Sombra, obviously but I'm interested to see what you do with it. Keep it up!

P.S. Love Blood Beak's Character so unique and malevolent and ooh it just makes me tingle how well you've written him. Muahahahahahahahah!!!

[110calligraphybrony]

Well that escalated quickly

[Darth Redbeard]

I sense trouble

[The MLP Hyena 111]

Great story so far, cant wait to read more.

[MustacheMan]

Is this story still going?