The Life of Penumbra Heartbreak

by Unwhole Hole

Chapter 9: Witchdoctor, Witchking

Crozea opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling. It was, like everything, made of crystal, so cold and sterile. It made her long for the endless plains and deep forests of her homeland so far away. A homeland she had abandoned so long ago, and to which she could never return.

Sombra stirred. He lifted his head off her striped chest and looked up at her. In the dark, his red eyes were dilated to a size far larger than a normal pony’s pupils could achieve. It looked almost adorable.

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

Crozea stroked his long, silky mane. “I did not mean for you to be disturbed. The spirits tonight, they have become perturbed.”

“I was not sleeping. I do not sleep.”

“Because Nightmare Moon will penetrate your mind, and use against you the horrors she might find.”

Sombra respositioned himself. He was larger than Crozea, but light, and the bed beneath her was soft. He felt warm, and inside him she could feel the beating of two hearts- -one growing increasingly weak, while the other could never grow quiet.

Crozea herself was naked. For a pony, that would not be unusual; as a zebra, however, she almost always kept herself covered in the false hope that maybe they would not notice that she was something ELSE. Sombra, who lay beside her, had never cared, though.

“Compared to most, your heart is stony. Does it bother you that I am not a pony?”

Sombra held her. “What meaning do such things have to me? Such denotations are meaningless. I respect you deeply, is that not enough?”

“From the eternal curse I bear, I cannot create you an heir.”

“This again,” he sighed. He turned over, so that he was also looking up at the ceiling, his now against the side of Crozea’s torso. “I will not treat you as a concubine, because you are not one. I bear you no ill will. This could already be considered an overreach.”

“The king’s perogative, or so is said. Though Luciferian would love to be here instead.”

Sombra chuckled softly. “Zecora...”

Crozea’s eyes narrowed. “You shall not ever again use that name, if you have any understanding of my deepest shame.”

“And you dare to give orders to your king? So be it. I grant this request.”

Crozea turned, putting her chin in Sombra’s long mane. “My honor is besmirched by an indelible stain, and I pray to the spirits you may never understand my pain.”

Sombra sighed. “Sometimes I think that you might be the only one of them that is not wholly evil. Yet you stay, and you serve me.”

“I have done things both cruel and dark; any good that lies within me is the merest spark.”

Sombra fell silent, as did Crozea. She slept little as well. Though the spells she used prevented the dark goddess from entering her mind wholly, she was plagued by unending nightmares. Part of it was a mental attack by her enemies, but part of it was something that no one could ever understand. Part of it was her.

“Twilight Luciferian came to me today,” said Sombra, knowing that neither of them would be getting any sleep this night. “He brought another one of his excessively tactful arguments. He recommended that I begin a plan of political integration for the girl.”

“While her magic is hardly strong, I think that a greater role cannot be wrong.”

Sombra looked up. “You and him rarely agree. I am surprised.”

“Beware that white unicorn. The least danger of him lies within his horn.”

“Regardless. He is right. I have to put her to some kind of use. And her powers may yet develop with greater training.”

“Her development has progressed at astounding speed. But it seems to me her magic lags while her body takes the lead.”

Sombra sighed. “It may be so. But I have little faith in her. Your work has been impeccable, though, and I thank you. Even if the girl will only serve as an insult to fly in the face of Celestia and Nightmare Moon.” He looked up at her. His eyes met her yellow. “And it is because you convinced me to spare her. But I give you this warning, Crozea the Witchdoctor: do not fail me. For your own sake. And for hers.”

Crozea held Sombra tight. She did not respond, because she did not need to. They lay together in silent, warm against the raging storms outside the Citadel. Though Sombra only thought what strange and unnatural things normally occupied his mind, Crozea eventually drifted off to sleep and was greeted by the sound of endless screaming.

Comments

[Sypher]

Sombra chuckled softly. “Zecora...”

I can't believe I didn't notice Crozea was an anagram.

[AppleTank]

9994316
Same
Like, holy shit? Zecora is 900 yrs old now?