Strings

by naturalbornderpy

Chapter 2: Light At The End Of A Tunnel

CHAPTER TWO:

LIGHT AT THE END OF A TUNNEL

1

Weeks went by. Perhaps months. And in that period Sombra grew close to knowing everything and yet nothing of his captor. Every few weeks the unicorn would return, the same brown cloak concealing his body. From darkness he appeared each time, so Sombra knew that either the mouth of the cave was quite far away, or that the unicorn was simply teleporting in. The latter he was more inclined to believe.

Although Sombra had always considered himself a unique and masterful creature, the unicorn that held him there was almost surely his equal. Sombra, in this cave of torment, had been left as weak as any regular pony. His magic had been stripped from him, along with his uniform, left to hang useless on a rack across the wall. This didn’t mean that Sombra did not try to retrieve his things any opportunity he was given (as well as break the chains that bound him to the wall); it only meant they were entirely in vain.

Sombra had been bested. Bested by something as ordinary as a unicorn.

It was a disgusting notion.

Sombra didn’t need ask why he was there. His captor informed him without question.

“You’ve hurt a lot of ponies, Sombra; a lot of good and innocent ones.”

Again that mocking voice nearly on the edge of laughter.

“They want revenge for what you’ve done; for all the pain you’ve caused. Only a small group know you’re still alive. In fact, most of Equestria think of you as some dead legend, and some don’t even remember you at all. Do you find that sad, Sombra? To do so much and yet for it to accomplish so little?”

Since that first brief conversation in the cave, Sombra had remained silent. His weekly visitor was a unicorn of many words, so he could chatter away with little prodding. And he would. During this time Sombra merely sat and watched. Listened and planned. Held every muscle in his face in perfect stillness; blinked only when it became completely necessary. Maybe there was a chance he could out-annoy his annoying captor.

Maybe not.

Every few months the unicorn would update him about the goings-on in the outside world, mostly about how’d he’d been forgotten and replaced. A new princess had been given the throne to the Crystal Empire, along with her husband of the Royal Guard.

“They make such a cute couple, Sombra! So cute! So very cute! And you know what else? She’s pink!” The cloaked unicorn gave it a moment to sink in. “She’s probably redecorated the place already. Red and silver and black? Bleh! Too moody, Sombra, much too moody! I’m sure it’s a giant cotton candy castle by now!” Sombra would not take the bait, nor any of the other stories he was fed, whether they be truth or fiction.

The purple unicorn came next—the one that had bested his traps and had led to his defeat. Since last time they met she had not only become an alicorn but defeated the villain known as Tirek, with barely a hair misplaced from her head. To Sombra it all sounded preposterous. It all reeked of untruth. Were Celestia and Luna not in the picture any more?

Perhaps most perverse of all was while hearing of his subjects, each freed and able to live as they wished. Sombra already had a great many plans for what would happen to them once he returned. Disobedience could not go unpunished.

When the stories from the rest of Equestria dried up, the unicorn changed his approach at tormenting the motionless Sombra. Sadly, it was a subject Sombra knew all too well.

“So this is you, and this is the Crystal Heart. See? And here’s Cadence, and here’s that little annoying dragon. You know he even got a statue for this?” In the dimness of the cave the unicorn had somehow created a makeshift diagram from multi-colored lines suspended in air. It was like some young filly’s drawing come grotesquely to life. Each caricature was crude at best but each one Sombra could identify plainly. (His own consisting of mostly blacks and grays with a tiny hint of green emitting from his head.) “See how close you were, Sombra? Just how close! Doesn’t that just irk you? Just the tiniest little bit?”

The truth was it did irk him. A lot. Only Sombra’s face would show nothing of the sort.

Years passed and the stories continued. Whether new or old or fiction or truth, Sombra lost all ability to tell. He would listen and the words would bounce from his head or glide effortlessly over him. Like the walls of his cave he was like stone, his mind becoming the only thing that mattered anymore. And that was something he thought could never be broken.

2

Another week gone by and another item of interest doled out. As always, Sombra sat and waited for its timely conclusion. It had become that much routine. Today that would change.

“There was a parade at the Crystal Empire today,” the unicorn started, perched awkwardly on a wooden stool. “It was in honor of your defeat, except no one mentioned your name. No one wanted to. No one even remembered you. They called in Peace Day. Gag! But I guess that’s all you’re good for now, Sombra. A day of celebration and debauchery, joy and—”

All of a sudden the chair the unicorn had been sitting in flew against the wall, breaking into a hundred fragments. In a fraction of a second the unicorn covered the distance between the two and held Sombra’s head between his hooves. “Are you even LISTENING to me!?” he screamed.

Sombra’s blinked a tired blink and said nothing. Inside, he wanted to grin a wolfish grin, but managed to contain it. Due to his quick flight over the unicorn’s hood had fallen back. Now Sombra could see his light brown fur, the bits of white hair that covered parts of his chin, the dark bags under his eyes, and, perhaps most alarming of all, the unicorn’s eyes themselves: red and yellow, neither pupil or iris matching the other.

The unicorn knew he was looking, and instead of correcting his hood he rather disappeared in a huff of dark smoke. Some ways away, far down the dark recesses of the cave Sombra had not been permitted to explore, came a secondary whoosh. “Story time is over, Sombra!” the unicorn bellowed, every word clanging harshly against the walls. “Next we try something different!”

A third whoosh told Sombra that his captor had left. Only an hour later, when not another sound came out from the darkness, did Sombra allow himself that grin he had been holding, along with a laugh that echoed into madness.

For the first time in a long time Sombra felt more like himself. He was stone—and he had proven it—and that unicorn was just that. A unicorn. A mortal. An object to either be destroyed or pushed aside. All Sombra need do was wait him out.

And Sombra had the time. All the time left in the world. He also had the mind to do it with.

His first escape came soon after.

3

Sombra’s first glimpse at freedom came not with a bang but rather a mild thud. The sound of clanging metal; he stirred awake by the noise.

His rusted collar lied limp along the floor, split neatly in two. Whether he had worn it out by his constant struggles or if it had simply weakened due to the effects of time, Sombra did not know. And neither did he care.

With one large breath of sour tasting air he wasted not a moment and lunged into the (until then) unreachable darkness. For meters and meters he galloped, never slowing, pressing further and further into the black. Eventually, in the distance a bit of light came alive. An exit! he thought. The light grew greater until it formed the clearly cut mouth of the cave. Rapidly Sombra could hear the winds from outside; could smell the fresh, chilly air blowing by the entrance. He was close. He was so close.

Then he came awake by the sounds of falling chain.

He was back in his tiny rock prison, his collar back on the ground, again cut plainly in two. Unlike his first lunge at freedom, Sombra paused to think. Was this to be his news means of torment? he pondered. The notions of escape without its justifying conclusion?

He stared at the bits of collar near his hooves and then at the endless black that made up the rest of the cave. After a moment of contemplation he kicked the discarded restraint into a corner. In rage he screamed, nevertheless also at his ghastly indecision.

Another try could mean his escape.

Yet it could also mean another jolt back into the pit—back into the cavern.

A moment of deliberation was all it took before Sombra knew what he must do.

4

The first year of his march proved the easiest.

Since Sombra had little else in means of entertainment, he walked the darkened path as many times as his body would allow. Each time he reached the brightly lit end of the path and returned to the start accompanied by the sound of falling metal, he did not yell out as was prone to him. Instead he simply nudged the broken metal away and trudged forward as if nothing had happened at all (he would never give his keeper the satisfaction of hearing his wails of grief, should he be listening). At some point this spell would end, he told himself. At some point it must loose its potency. In his head Sombra still had hopes of escape. But even near-immortals had their limits.

5

It was in the second year of his march that Sombra felt the first deep pangs of defeat. Each time he was returned to the dark, each time he was denied his freedom, he found it that much harder to start again. And each time he neared the light at the end of the cave he almost found himself wanting to quit and come back; for at least in that case he would return due to his own accord, and not from the trickery of some bastard unicorn.

Some days he would laugh the entire way down. On others, he would scream and roar for his keeper to reappear—ask him how he would do against an unchained King.

After a time, when the days and months and years spiraled far beyond meaning, Sombra gave into the hopelessness and succumbed to the dark. No longer would he take the bait dangled in front of him. No longer would he play the unicorn’s game.

So with his head down he sat and he waited… and waited… and waited… and—

Sombra awoke and instantly knew something had changed.

Just before he’d come to he’d had a dream most vivid he swore it to be real. It was of his Crystal Heart, left somewhere in the Empire. Only now it looked smaller, much smaller, and far more detailed than its original, simplistic design. In fact, it almost bared resemblance to a real heart, besides the fact that it was of thin crystal and icy blue.

When he came awake again he was more refreshed than usual, more energized and alert. But it was not this that was pleading for his attention.

By his side, his chain and collar continued their broken existence; and his armor sat useless on the wall. So what had changed?

It was the feeling of being watched.

“You still alive in there, Sombra?”

The unicorn. He had come back. After all these years he had come back to check on his guest, or had only chosen to announce himself now.

“I thought maybe some fresh air might due you good!”

The unicorn’s maniacal voice clanged in the distance. Sombra slit his eyes to find anything of note, only to come up short. A moment later, as if knowing of his intentions, a pair of mismatched eyes came forth from the black—red and yellow, glowing so brightly it seemed as if only eyeballs made of fire could illuminate them so.

When the unicorn was certain he had been seen, he yelled out: “Be a good boy and come and greet your keeper, Sombra! I grant you a stay of execution!”

It wasn’t the words that spurred Sombra on. It was the sudden rush of adrenaline and anger. If it was another trick then so be it. Any chance to catch the insane pony that had placed him here was worth any shot he had.

Just as Sombra entered the area beyond the flickering glow of the torch, his captor’s red and yellow eyes vanished from view. A whoosh sound followed, and right after that the slight sting of smoke on his eyes. Still he hammered forward, uncaring if the next thing ahead be a solid mass of rock.

What followed was what Sombra had already seen a thousand times before: a light, starting small, growing into a door. Only this time he pushed through and landed on snow, shutting his eyes from the wall of white that had completely enveloped him.

When his eyes adapted to the brightness he took to his surroundings. He was standing on a hill of snow and rock. Patches of bright grass stood prominent all around.

Sombra didn’t waste much time with the spectacle and instead faced the direction of the cave opening, only to find it gone. A solid slab of smooth rock was all that remained of his home of ten years. Just as he began to fear for his belongings inside, he reassured himself of their safe return. They were apart of him, he remembered. They could never leave him. From underneath thin black coils of smoke quickly enveloped him. When they finally dissipated they left a King in their wake.

His armor. His cape. His crown.

With that simple job done Sombra thought only fleetingly about what he’d do next.

He had a pony to find. A very special one with eyes of red and yellow.

Author's Note:

Next chapter: What Discord's been doing all this time.

Comments

[Spider8ite]

Really good for a first Fic! I don't read any Dark Fics (just Cupcakes, Rainbow Factory and another classical Dark Fics), but you sir caught my attention!

[naturalbornderpy]

Thanks! This is the first fanfic of absolutely anything I've done but I thought I had at least one ok story in me. Thanks for the read.

[ChingKittyCat]

I'm going to wonder if what Discord has been doing is illegal. That, or has gone without Royal Allowance.
Next chapter, please.

[Vibrant lies]

Was this to be his news means of torment?

Was this to be his new torture?