The Doctor Is "In"

Even a thousand years later, Canterlot's weather remained, more or less, the exact same as Sombra had remembered it. The sun was shining bright, a smattering of thin clouds randomly dotting the sky as a steady breeze wafted through the city. To anypony else, it would've constituted a perfect day but to the dour stallion, the temperature was far too generically calm for his taste. He was a winter child through and through, the freezing climate of the Frozen North forever etched into his spirit and although he did on occasion enjoy the warmth of a mid-summer day, nothing beat brisk air or the sight of fresh snowfall. He was actually the only being he knew of whose favorite season was winter.

At the moment, however, Sombra was not outdoors and for that, he silently counted his blessings. He was busy pushing a squeaky book-cart through the Post-Celestial History Section of the Canterlot Library, the front right wheel sputtering out a monotonous squeak-squeak-squeak that was oddly soothing to him. Levitating a heavy blue tome off of the cart, Sombra inspected its playfully alliterative title, "The Concise Compendium of Canterlot's Construction," and set it on the fourth row down. He flipped an upside-down book back to its proper position and continued with his mission, grumbling to himself as he swept an empty chocolate pudding container and plastic spork off of a shelf and into a nearby trash can. This blatant display of disrespect happened more than Sombra cared to admit and the next time that it happened, he swore that he'd severely punish the next pony who dared to-

No, none of that. I don't terrorize ponies anymore, especially not for trivial matters.

Nearly a month had passed since he'd used the Scales of Taijitu to inadvertently split himself into two separate beings: the benevolent but weak-willed Lumos and the power-hungry, brutally sadistic Tenebris. The latter, no longer restrained by his good half's morals and loose code of honor, had attempted to take over Equestria and it was only through sheer dumb luck that Tenebris' plot was foiled and the two halves once again made whole. Retaining memories from his time as both Lumos and Tenebris, Sombra held a metaphorical mirror to himself and reached an epiphany: he truly despised who he was. He could no longer make excuses or hide behind his past traumas; the time for action was nigh and he was not one to shirk from a challenge. No matter the length of time nor difficulties mattered, as he swore that he would make amends for his transgressions.

The only question that remained was how.

Skidding to a stop, Sombra pulled a book off of the shelf and frowned.

"What's this? 'The Astronomical Astronomer's Almanac to All Things Astronomy'?" He rolled his eyes. "Because that's not needlessly repetitious, is it?"

He carefully laid the almanac on his cart and resumed his pace. Another nitpick of his, and truly that of all librarians, was when a patron decided to not only place a book on the wrong shelf but in the entirely wrong section as well. Was it really so hard to put something back where you found it?

Dropping the redundantly-titled almanac off in the Astronomy and Astrophysics Section, Sombra swung back around towards the Romance Section, muttering under his breath in his native tongue. He hated the romance genre with a burning passion, finding it trite, boring and, more often than not, painfully unimaginative. When it came to any other book genre, such as fantasy or mystery, the possibilities were nearly limitless but when it came to romance, there were only really four or five plots, usually involving misunderstandings, a class or social divide and sappy dialogue. Tartarus, said tropes and plots were often regurgitated and re-packaged in even more poorly-written ways for tasteless teenagers and miserable middle-aged mothers looking for an escape from their humdrum lives. Most of all, however, Sombra derided romance novels as deceptive.

No, love did not, in fact, conquer all. Problems couldn't just be solved with hoof-holding and impassioned speeches, and happy endings were virtually nonexistent. Love, and by extension, life, were much more complicated, more harsh than the picture-perfect world these books portrayed. True, Sombra was by no means some great philanderer like Canternova, nor was he inexperienced in matters of the heart, having previously been married to the most powerful mare in the land and in a brief committed relationship with modern Equestria's greatest hero. Suffice it to say, he knew a thing or two about the harsh reality of love and the consequences that can and do arise because of it.

His thoughts then turned to Cadence, his daughter and the Princess of Love. At the very least, he was content in the knowledge that things had worked out for her. She was the ruler of the Crystal Empire, a far worthier monarch than Sombra ever could've been, and had the support of an adoring and brave husband. He'd heard tell of how Cadence and Shining Armor used the immense devotion that they had for one another to banish Queen Chrysalis and her changeling hordes, an event that was unprecedented in past confrontations with the insectoid-equine race. Even if Sombra himself didn't believe in happy endings, at the very least his daughter knew such a luxury.

Alphabetically sorting the stack of novels on his cart, Sombra began to distribute them in their preassigned places when he paused, a book with a vibrant violet cover suspended in his magic. The color was almost a dead-ringer for the shade of Twilight's eyes, two glistening amethyst orbs that shined brighter than any gem, piercing into his very core whenever the mare in question looked upon him. Words failed to communicate the despair he'd felt at breaking off their relationship, the agony of watching his beloved cry and beat at his chest. The last thing that he ever wanted to do was to hurt her but it had to be done. Twilight could never know true happiness if she stayed with him as he was.

"I miss you, Twi..."

"Oh! Um, excuse me?"

Sombra seized up at the feminine voice and quickly took a moment to compose himself. Wiping at his eyes, he cleared his throat and adopted a friendly smile as he turned to face the speaker.

"Hello there. How may I help you?"

She was an earth pony with a pale yellow coat and a dark blue mane with light blue streaks, which she kept in twin medium-length pigtails. A pair of red cat-eye glasses were situated over her dark blue eyes, reminding Sombra a little bit of Primrose. If she'd seen him in his un-glamoured form, she would've no doubt had fled and alerted the nearest Royal Guard as to his whereabouts. As far as the young mare was concerned, the stallion in front of her was an ordinary red-brown unicorn with a long, shaggy blue-gray mane and tail. The mare smiled at Sombra and laughed, placing a hoof over her heart.

"Hi, yes, I'm looking for something on classical theater?"

"Of course. That would be in the Performing Arts Section. Let me escort you."

"Oh wow, a real gentlecolt," the mare giggled and the two were off.

Long days and even longer nights afforded Sombra, or rather, "Guess Who", an intimate working knowledge of the library's entire layout front to back. Tartarus, he was confident that he could navigate the building blindfolded and walking backwards during a thunderstorm. Employment at the library thus far provided Sombra with steady work, plenty of privacy, as many of the ponies that came in wanted to be left alone to study, reasonable wages and a chance to showcase his own organizational skills. To top it off, he was a major bibliophile, a devoted aficionado who painstakingly poured over every book or scroll he'd ever gotten his hooves on, a trait that left his adopted sister Princess Garnet flustered and his former love Princess Celestia often joking that he should've married the Royal Library instead of her. This trait was actually one of the few things that he shared in common with his false identity of Prince Tourmaline, except the weak fool only ever studied topics such as history and art as opposed to advanced arcane rituals and polymorphic spellwork.

Even the mere thought of his former life sent a shiver down Sombra's back.

They hung a left at a bronze statue depicting Starswirl the Bearded, the legendary magician rearing back while brandishing an outdated Equestrian banner, his expression one of heroic determination and benevolent fortitude that looked far too manufactured for Sombra's taste. It was an idealized image of the old coot, one that made him look far too courageous and friendly. True, yes, Starswirl had a kind of quiet dignity to him, emitting an aura of power and control that even Sombra-or, rather, Tourmaline-respected and perhaps even subconsciously replicated. However, Starswirl was also a cold, pompous windbag, an arrogant snob that couldn't even be bothered to converse with the masses he oh so apparently cared for. He was also one of the most staunch and loyal of Queen Concordia's supporters, aiding in the mass extinction of both the draconequui and umbrums, and for that, Sombra could never and would never forgive him.

"So tell me, what is it that you're looking for, Miss...?"

"Juniper Montage," came the response, punctuated by a tiny giggle. "What's your name?"

"Guess Who," Sombra automatically replied.

"Well, I'm seeking a job at this theater and I really want to show off to the management. I actually do a lot of theater work at my school. Not, like, singing or dancing, but behind the scenes stuff like lighting and rigging. That kind of thing."

"That's really fascinating," he mustered with feign interest.

It wasn't that Sombra had anything against this mare or the theater in general. On the contrary, during his time as his other self, he loved watching plays at the Gypsum Amphitheater with his family, especially the tragedies of Troughocles and the comedies of Aristofillies. Following his escape from prison and time spent on the lamb, he saw the occasional play or musical, the two stand-outs being The Phantom of the Corral and Malicious, the latter of which he wholeheartedly identified with. He'd even once sat through a motion picture during an afternoon matinee, deeming it the most awe-inspiring technological marvel since the phonograph. The film itself, which Sombra struggled to remember the name of, was a mindless popcorn flick about a group of earth pony miners saving the world by drilling into an oncoming meteor, a premise that was both ludicrous and yet entertaining.

No, the simple fact of the matter was that Sombra didn't want to make any new friends. As he was still a wanted criminal and a despised figure in the public consciousness, he had to take careful pains to remain hidden from unwelcome eyes and that included ensuring that no one got close enough to discover his true identity. Well, if he was inclined to be honest, it could've been due to the fact that he wasn't in the mood for companionship, be it romantic or platonic. Following his break-up with Twilight, Sombra dove into his work in an attempt at distracting him from the pain, to focus his attention on his own personal well-being instead of worrying whether or not anyone liked him. His years spent both as a student of the occult and a fugitive so he'd become accustomed to solitude.

Still...if he were to be honest, he was feeling just a little lonely.

"Here we are," Sombra pointed out. "'The Performing Arts Section.'

They'd passed beneath an archway depicting a pair of comedy and tragedy masks, or "sock and buskin" to the more intellectually inclined, and entered an aisle consisting of eighteen shelves, nine on each side, each standing twelve feet high and ten feet long. It was actually one of the largest sections in the library, as it encompassed topics like ballet, singing, dance choreography, acrobatics, stage magic, sleight of hoof, opera, gymnastics, puppetry, ventriloquism, stand-up comedy, oration, elocution, enunciation, film-making and mime artistry. Sombra had organized many books in this section and while not a personal favorite of his, that honor belonging to thaumaturgy, herbalism, art, and history, he was impressed by how much material lined the shelves of this particular aisle. Out of all of the literature in the section, it was the books on opera that piqued his interest the most, the larger-than-life settings, grand skill and vocal talent that went into the making of such productions. Dare he say, it was even better than in the days of yore that he'd witnessed first-hoof.

"Wow, this is amazing!" Juniper Montage marveled.

"Yes, isn't it? Here are books on...the modern classics, instructions for stagehooves, pre-Celestial plays, musical theory and history." Sombra quickly created a small stack on the floor in front of Juniper. "If you want to impress your future employers, these ought to do the trick."

"Thank you so much!" Juniper placed the books into her saddle bags and stopped as she turned to leave. "Say, you're awfully cute. Are you doing anything later?"

"Sorry, but I just got out of a relationship. Not looking to start a new one."

Juniper frowned, then shrugged. "Well, okay then. Um, have a nice day."

Sombra watched the young mare exit the aisle, turn left and disappear from sight. He sighed and shook his head, wondering what she would've thought if she'd seen the real him. Even if not for his recent break-up, he still would've said no, as Juniper was too young for him. Then again, every mare was too young for him. Being trapped under the ice and stuck as a shadow had essentially frozen him in time and ensured that he remained the same age for a thousand years, though now he could still grow old like any regular pony.

In a hypothetical situation, who could he find that would be able to share his life experiences?

Celestia was out for obvious reasons, seeing as how dating your ex-wife was never a good idea, especially if she was a manipulative control freak with a literally fiery disposition and a legion of brain-dead followers. He considered Luna but knew that it would never work. He saw her first and foremost like a younger sibling and aside from that, she was Celestia's sister, making any form of a romantic relationship weird. So who did that leave? There was Queen Chrysalis and while he didn't necessarily have an issue with changelings, this one happened to have messed with his daughter and tried to ruin her special day so that was a big no on his part.

Why is it so hard to find someone closer to my age?

As if acting as the punchline to a great cosmic joke, an elderly earth pony mare slowly entered pushing a cart. Dusty Pages had been the head librarian here for almost forty years and the time had weighed heavily on the old gal's shoulders. She was at least in her late sixties with a shaggy medium-length white and beige mane and a thin, light grayish orchid coat. A pair of tiny brass spectacles were perched on the end of her heavily-wrinkled muzzle and Sombra could make out a tiny smidgen of Dijon mustard on her yellow collar and red tie. She came to a slow halt and lazily blinked at him.

"Ah, there you are, Guess Who. I've been looking all over for you, my colt."

Ever since he started working at the library, Dusty had taken a shine to Sombra, giving him little tips and pointers she proudly referred to as "trade secrets", often regaling him with tales during her long tenure between the shelves. Sombra, however, didn't mind humoring her and actually enjoyed Dusty's stories. As a little colt, he would sit amongst the village elders and listen with pure engrossment to their stories, enamored with the idea of traveling the world and exploring the lands far beyond the wintry confines of Hnefaleikarinn. Although he'd sworn off making new friends, he hesitated to call Dusty a "friend", instead preferring to think of her in terms of a work acquaintance. It'd been awhile since someone treated him so compassionately and he was determined to pay her back.

"For me?" Sombra asked somewhat playfully. "So what can I do for you?"

"Could you be a dear and please go on another donut run? Oh, and could you ask Moon Dancer what she would prefer? I'd go myself but with these old legs of mine, the shop will be closed by now."

"Of course," Sombra smiled and for once, it was genuine.

"Thank you, sweetheart. She's in the Celestial Era History Section."

Leaving Dusty, Sombra made the trek to the west wing of the library, past a tapestry depicting Celestia in full battle attire, a swarm of changelings fleeing before the golden-wrapped goddess. Apparently following Sombra's failed rebellion, Queen Chelicerae took her hive and fled Equestria, reuniting with the hives across the sea and looking elsewhere for a steady supply of love. Five-hundred-and-fifty-seven years later, her successor Queen Apolysis II decided to retake Equestria for the "glory of the hive" and instituted a plot to infiltrate Canterlot in order to take out Celestia. The assassination attempt, of course, failed miserably and this resulted in the five-year "Hive Wars", forcing the changelings to retreat once more and they wouldn't be seen again until Queen Chrysalis emerged during Princess Cadence and Shining Armor's wedding day. Obviously, if Sombra had been present during that affair, Chrysalis would've been exposed much earlier and his daughter's special day wouldn't have been ruined by that holey-legged harridan and her army of flying maggots.

If it wasn't for the fact that the tapestry was library property, Sombra would've ripped it right off the wall, torn it to shreds, set it ablaze and mailed the ashes to Sun-Butt herself. The only reasons he refrained from this admittedly pleasurable-sounding act of vandalism was both his respect for Dusty Pages as well as the desire to actually keep both his job and anonymity. Well, that and because, frankly, Celestia just wasn't worth spending the bits on postage.

Finally, he came upon the Celestial-Era Section, the keystone in the stone archway carved into the shape of a triangular shield depicting Celestia's cutie mark. Again, vandalism casually crossed his mind, this time his imagination summoned the image of him using a chisel to scratch off that irritating sun symbol and replacing it with the three black single-crystals and red background of his personal crest. Shaking his head, Sombra entered the section and after a short trek, soon spotted his quarry in the middle of sorting a precariously leaning book-tower twice the mare's height. Moon Dancer was the poster child for nerd culture: big glasses held together with duct tape, turtleneck sweater, social awkwardness, penchant for books and overpriced coffee. If he wasn't so certain that she was mortal, he might've even entertained the faint notion that she actually originated the stereotype.

"Ahem."

Moon Dancer turned, looking him up and down. "Yes?"

"Dusty asked me to make a donut run"-again, he wanted to add-"And I wanted to know what you'd like to get."

"Two Bostud creams and a medium iced latte with almond milk and extra sugar", she replied a little too brusquely for his taste. True, it was just her way of speaking and he knew not to take it to heart, especially when she was doing something book-related. "And tell Coffee Bean to stop putting little hearts on the cup. I'm not interested and he should get a clue."

Without another word, Moon Dancer returned to her task.

Rolling his eyes, Sombra turned his back on the unicorn and made his exit. Unlike Dusty, Moon Dancer was a consummate professional: calm, collected, polite as social etiquette demanded, impersonal. Similar to Sombra, she had no real interest in making friends, essentially keeping everypony at foreleg's length. Perhaps she'd been hurt in the past and wanted to avoid further heartache by forgoing future attachments? Sombra wanted to help her but figured that it was none of his concern and decided the best course of action was to do nothing.

Exiting the library, Sombra turned and bumped into somepony.

"Oof!"

Shaking his head, Sombra found that it was a brilliant orange earth pony stallion wearing a light grayish brown fedora and a gray jacket with the collar turned up. His cutie mark was unique in design, resembling a rather nonplussed-looking feline.

"Sorry about that."

"It's fine," the stallion gruffly replied, dusting off one sleeve and continuing on his way.

Shaking his head, Sombra hailed a taxi in order to make the six-mile journey to Donut Joe's, the pilgrimage he'd traveled on numerous occasions since becoming settled in Canterlot. Although he could've traveled much faster by either teleportation or shadow-bending, this allowed him to continue to remain under the Royal Sisters' radar and aided him in maintaining his Guess Who persona without relying too much on his magic. Pulling up in front of Donut Joe's, he paid the driver and entered the simple but homey establishment, showing a lack of surprise at the sizable line almost reaching the front door. Sure, there were plenty of other donut and coffee places in Canterlot but if you wanted quality food, positive service and a welcoming environment, Donut Joe's was the place to go for all of your breakfast-slash-late lunch needs. Despite Sombra's own disgust at the decor, specifically the green wallpaper and checkered floor tiles, he nevertheless appreciated the warm atmosphere.

Slowly, but surely, the line inched by increments until Sombra finally found himself at the front. The yellow unicorn stallion spotted him and beamed, broadly raising his forelegs in a welcoming gesture.

"Guess Who! Great to see you, buddy! How's the book business?"

At this point, Sombra had become such a habitué to the small business that he and the owner were on a first name basis. Well, "first name, fake name basis" but who's splitting hairs?

"A tad dull but someone's gotta do it."

"I hear that, brother," Joe chuckled. "So, what'll it be?"

"The usual for Dusty: a vanilla glazed donut with extra sprinkles and a small decaf latte. Hmm, I think I'll go with two, no, three chocolate donuts and a medium black coffee. And lastly, two Bostud creams and a medium iced latte with almond milk and extra sugar."

"Coming right up!"

To Joe's left, a young, scrawny colt was prepping the coffees. He was about eighteen or nineteen, his coat primarily dark brown with a light brown underbelly and his reddish-brown mane had a shaggy look about it, as though he'd fought and lost a fierce battle to force it into a presentable style. He wore the shop uniform of a paper hat and apron, along with a green button-up shirt and a dog tag necklace, possibly either a cheap store purchase or a gift from a military veteran relative. Living up to his namesake, three coffee beans adorned his flanks. It didn't escape Sombra's notice that the youth's ears perked up at the mention of the last order, mainly the ice latte bit.

"Coffee Bean?"

The colt smiled at him, revealing his braces. "Yes?"

Sombra really did hate to crush him like this but Moon Dancer's comfort levels did take precedent.

"Moon Dancer wanted me to tell you to please stop drawing hearts on her cups. You're a nice colt but she's not interested in dating right now."

Coffee Bean wilted, his ears sagging at the news. "O-oh. Thanks for letting me know."

Sure, Sombra may've played around with the wording but the original message was a tad too harsh for his taste. It's not as if Coffee Bean meant any harm and completely decimating his self-confidence was something that Sombra was not prepared to do, especially on another's behalf. Besides, this way, Moon Dancer got what she wanted, Coffee Bean left with his dignity intact and no one got hurt. If Sombra had told him the original message, who knows how he would've taken it? Getting shot down sucked and even more so when it was done via proxy.

"Order up!" Donut Joe wrapped everything, excluding the drinks, and placed them into plastic bags, floating them over to Sombra. "Here ya go, buddy. Tell the gals that I said, 'Hey!'"

"Careful, Joe. I think Dusty's become smitten with you," Sombra teased, placing some bits on the counter. "I think I hear wedding bells in the future."

Joe placed a hoof over his heart. "Yeah? Tell her that, sadly, it would never work between us."

"Age gap?"

"No. I'm but a simple baker and Dusty is a librarian. She's way out of my league."

"Whatever. You have a good day, Joe."

"You too, Guess Who. See ya again soon!"

Sombra turned and set down his bags and drinks, taking a moment to pause under the pretense of adjusting his saddlebags. Across the room, a stallion was seated at a small round table and reading a copy of The Canterlot Gazette, his eyes just barely visible as they were sandwiched between the brim of his hat and the top of the newspaper. It may've been Sombra's imagination but the stallion looked like the same earth pony he briefly spotted at the library, even wearing the same attire. Then again, fedoras and jackets or trench-coats were a common fashion trend in the bigger cities, especially in Canterlot and Manehattan and it may have just been sheer paranoia on Sombra's behalf. He was a fugitive on the run, after all, and was used to checking every nook and cranny for prying eyes.

Taking another taxi back to the library, Sombra delivered the goods to the two mares, their eyes lighting up at the sight of the sugary sweets and life-giving beverages. There are often jokes made about cops and their affinity for coffee and donuts but librarians needed sugar and caffeine too. After all, they also spent long nights doing their work, only it involved sorting books instead of catching criminals. Dusty was most appreciative of the delivery, taking a moment to pinch Sombra's cheek and gave a good laugh at Joe's mock refusal of her supposed "affections". Moon Dancer, though her usual reserved self, still expressed her thanks and promptly left the break-room to eat by herself.

Sombra and Dusty took their usual spots at the white round table and ate in relative silence until Dusty leaned forward with an excited twinkle in her eyes.

"So G.W., have you seen any cute mares around?"

Sombra cocked a brow at the aged mare. Sometimes, she was like a gossiping filly.

"I just exited a relationship, Dust," he answered, taking a gulp of his black coffee. "Remember?"

"Ah yes, your mystery mare," Dusty chuckled and readjusted her spectacles. "It was serious, I take it?"

Twilight's smiling face invaded Sombra's thoughts, though he was uncertain if it was unwanted or not.

"Very. We weren't dating long but it was special to us both."

Dusty nodded knowingly. "Ah I see. Well, I'm sorry it didn't work out but life's like that sometimes. Still, you're a young stallion. You should be enjoying your youth while you still can."

Sombra set aside his half-finished donut, his appetite having vacated the premises.

He sighed, "I still think it's too soon, Dusty. I'm not ready for another relationship."

"Who said anything about a relationship? Just go out on a date or two and get rid of your lovey-dove blues. How about that Moon Dancer?"

Sombra blinked at her. "Moon Dancer? I don't think she's my type."

"From what I've gleaned, she's exactly your type," Dusty grinned slyly. "Think about it: Moon Dancer is an avid reader, a little socially inept, brainy and straight-laced. Why not her?"

The aged librarian brought up some good points. Twilight and Moon Dancer both fit the criteria for Sombra's preferred choice of mare as he was very interested in somepony he could have a proper intellectual conversation with and the latter was easy on the eyes. However, that being said, Moon Dancer was also more abrasive than sandpaper, giving off the impression that she couldn't be bothered with social interactions for a prolonged period of time. Besides, wasn't it common knowledge that dating one's coworker was often a messy business? He doubted that they'd make it to a second date and didn't need the aggravation should things go sour, either him being accidentally discovered or inadvertently hurting Moon Dancer's feelings. No, this was certainly not the time nor the place to even try such an endeavor.

"Sorry but I'm just not ready for that," Sombra finally replied and rose to his hooves. "I'm going to get back to work."

He left before hearing Dusty Pages' response.

The rest of the day was quite uneventful. It was a rather slow day so Dusty sent Sombra home early, telling him not to waste his youth in a musty old library with an ancient coot like herself. If only she knew how old her dear employee really was...or his true identity. By the time Sombra had arrived at his apartment building, he felt exhausted, and not just from the strain of maintaining his persona. Slamming the door shut, he took a peek at himself in the hanging hallway mirror.

Guess Who was practically immaculate...and that was the point. He was nothing more than window dressing, something made to look nice and nothing more. Deactivating the glamour charm, the perfectly clean and presentable facade faded away, revealing the real pony beneath the disguise. His eyes were bloodshot and baggy, the result of too many nights spent lying awake staring at the ceiling while his mane and tail hung down his shoulders hindlegs in tangled knots, both shampooed but neither conditioned nor brushed. He poked his belly, noting the slight amount of pudge that had accumulated as a result of his sugar indulgence.

Stress eating is not doing wonders for you.

Plopping down onto his bed belly-first, Sombra rolled onto his back and sighed.

"I hate my life."

Sleep evaded Sombra once again, not that he really cared, mind you. During the few moments that sleep found him, Sombra seemed to dream less and less of Dravite Hill, a fact that he attributed to his little emotional breakthrough with Princess Luna a month ago. No longer would he be trapped wandering the same road between the Crystal Empire and Canterlot, or forced to watch impotently as his foalhood home burned to the ground. The screams and shrieks of battle were silenced, at least for the time being and that afforded him a few precious minutes of uninterrupted shut-eye. Although he was eternally grateful to Luna for helping him, her compassion and insight being far more than he'd deserved, he wasn't exactly in the mood to receive one of her oneiric visitations or to sit through one of her playing-mom sessions.

Right now, Sombra needed time to figure things out on his own. He didn't want nor need another lecture, no matter how well-intentioned or eloquently worded. Besides, Princess Luna had a hundred other subjects more deserving of her special attention than him, ponies who were in need of actual help and who she needed to focus on. Sombra still loved Luna, as much as he could spare for his former "little sister" and ex-sister-in-law but she wasn't exactly the sort for him to discuss his problems with. Perhaps it was time for him to look into getting some professional help.

Rising with a groan, Sombra stretched his back and kicked off the mattress. Using his red aura, he carefully retrieved a thin rectangular box from beneath his bed and laid it on top of the simple nightstand. Unsnapping the fasteners, he slowly raised the lid to reveal the end-blown flute nestled within the felt-lined case. It'd been some time since Sombra last played the flute and seeing as how he had little in the way of down time, he decided to give it another try. Reattaching the two halves, he lifted it out of the box and gave the flute a once-over.

The design hadn't changed that drastically in a thousand years, retaining the same tube-shaped appearance with a side-blown head-joint and sixteen tone holes drilled into the surface. Instead of wood, the flute was made of polished brass and a series of silver-plated keys covered each tone hole, which were then opened and closed as the flutist inhaled into the embouchure hole on the head-joint. Clearing his throat, Sombra blew into the lip plate, his toes working the keys along the body. The sound that was produced was less than ideal, a high-pitched squeal that set Sombra's teeth on edge. After a few more attempts, he managed to create a more pleasurable, dulcet tone.

He went with a soft, classic tune, a soothing melody that'd at one time had been used as a lullaby or ambient feast music. He could almost hear a small band accompanying his flute, a collection of ponies sitting in a cluster beneath the torchlight of the longhouse. After a moment, a beautiful young mare would bring her vocals to the rhythm, her red eyes boring into young Sombra's while he swayed in his father's lap. Persephone had the best singing voice out of their village, a voice that was said to have been blessed by the gods themselves and Sombra was proud to have such a mare as his mother.

The flute's song was carried out of Sombra's open window, the air transporting it around the apartment building. Ponies stopped their various activities to listen to the slow melody, transfixed by the almost sorrowful music. None of them knew the context of the orchestration but to them, it spoke of a traveler far from home, adrift on a seemingly endless ocean that kept him from seeing the faces of his loved ones again. Sombra, however, was so lost in his flute playing that such concerns escaped his notice and for all he cared, his audience was invisible. He played this music for himself.

Ceasing his breaths, Sombra stared out into the night and sighed.

"I hope tomorrow is better..."

~*~

"Well...this is it."

The wind swatted at Sombra's mane and coat, a gentle breeze that did no more harm upon him than a cragodile being pelted with marshmallows. In front of him was a small cross-garbled building that had a projecting front wing, the stone walls painted a beige-white and the roof adorned with grayish red-brown asphalt shingles. Sombra checked the piece of paper in his telekinetic grasp to confirm that he had the right address, but mostly to aid in cementing his resolution to enter the structure. He stared deeply at the sky-blue memo paper, the image at the top being that of a waddling duck whistling to himself, a speech balloon above his pompadour bearing the words, "Good things come to those who waddle!" in bouncy, polychromatic hues. In an act of pettiness, Sombra drew a bushy false mustache on the duck and added a ten-gallon hat; it wasn't clear even to himself why he went with the hat and chalked it up to foalish amusement.

Only one mare in the whole world would have such a ridiculous taste in stationery...

"So tell me, what brings you to my door to-day?"

Sombra gently and deliberately nudged the tall glass of iced tea over to the side. He hated tea, Primrose knew he hated tea, yet she still served it all the same. This was a conscious act of instigation, and this old nag had the gall to sit there, smiling and sipping her own drink without a seeming care in the world. Oddly, it didn't really bother Sombra all that much, nothing more than some mild back-of-the-brain irritation that would soon dissipate and be forgotten. Perhaps he was becoming too mellowed out, too conscientious, his start at the path of reformation, or as he preferred, "the Climb of a Million Mountains", really beginning to alter his views and biases. Just how much of the original Sombra would be left by the conclusion of the process?

"As you very well know," Sombra began emphatically, still a bit annoyed and unclear why he had to tell the crone things she should already be aware of. "I'd hit a bump in the proverbial road, and made a very large mistake-..."

"Becoming an insatiably evil psychopath bent on world dominance and kidnapping your former friends and daughter is a tad bigger than, 'large', dear."

Read all about it! "Local Old Biddy Knocked Halfway to Orion By Mad Stallion!"

Ignoring Primrose's dig, Sombra resumed his speech.

"I made a very colossal mistake-..."

"That's better."

"THAT...almost cost me everything...yet again. I completely fractured whatever relationship I was building with the Element Bearers, shattered Cady's admittedly minute trust in me, broke my new marefriend's heart and, to top it all off, nearly perished due to some mumbo jumbo about a lack of balance or some such malarkey."

Sombra sighed and hung his head. "I just...I need help, Primrose. I don't know...where to go or who to turn to. I can't keep walking the same path if I'm just going in circles."

Primrose leaned forward and overlaid her hoof on his.

"What is it that you want, dearie?"

Lifting his head, Sombra found that behind her spectacles, Primrose's gaze was pensively solemn.

"I want to be..."

It was difficult to sum up his wants and desires in a single word but Sombra gave it the old college try.

"...good...," he added somewhat pathetically. "Better."

"Better," Primrose mused and creaked back in her eucalyptus chair. "For Twilight? Or Cady?"

"For me. Of course I want to make them happy but I want to be better for myself. For me."

Primrose said nothing for the next two-and-a-half-minutes, just studying Sombra with laser-focused intensity, intermittently interspersed by the occasional throat-clearing or loud slurps of her tea. For such an old-timer, her localized attentiveness was quite sharp, made even greater by the clear focus of her eyes, two organs appearing even keener than those belonging to most ponies half the age of their owner. There was a sort of Discord-esque randomness to Primrose's antics that Sombra normally found deplorable in another, especially in relation to the draconequus, whom Sombra elected to avoid at all costs. However, when mashed together with her inherent clairvoyance and finely-honed intelligence, he found that he didn't mind it so much when it came to Primrose, mostly since she kept it air balloon-light with the occasional quip or leaving more funny notes, like the one from their very first meeting. In summation, Primrose was alright in Sombra's book, provided she came in small doses and dispensed sagely, applicable life advice.

Unlatching the tips of her teeth from around the yellow and red polka-dot silly straw, Primrose gave her lips a weak lick and scratched her chin, her eyes sparkling lightly in the mid-afternoon sun.

"I believe I know just the mare for the job. Tell me, have you ever heard of 'therapy'?"

Yes, Sombra knew about therapy and from the sounds of it, he wasn't going to like it. From what he'd gathered, it came down to a neurotically-depressed loser whining about his problems to some stranger on a couch for two-hundred bits per hour, the later continually and non-constructively asking the repeated line, "And how does that make you feel?" However, Primrose assured Sombra that this wasn't going to be one of those times, claiming that Dr. Case Study was a real professional and cared about the well-being of her patients instead of one of those "quacks" Sombra was obligated to suffer through during his imprisonment in Canterlot Castle. Doctor Whatever-His-Name was of no help and by the end of their third session, the unicorn became scared and quit after Sombra threatened to shove a pencil in a not-so-nice place for the sun to be shining. It was harsh and a bit extreme but at the time, such a reaction felt warranted and Past Sombra was more than happy to bask in the cruelty of the action, leaving Future Sombra full of regret for his former behavior.

He spared one last look at the slip of paper, uncertain as to how such a brilliant mare could have such awful hoof-writing, the lettering alternating between too small and too large:

Dr. Case Study, Adult Psychologist and Mediator
4 5 Ludovico Street, Downtown Canterlot
Tell her "Rosie" sent you

Primrose the Prescient

P.S. Staring at the paper isn't going to help you get through the door.
P.S.S. Yes, you should've worn a necktie.

"Show-off," Sombra mock-grumbled and slipped the paper into an inner pocket of his cloak.

"Alright," he started, giving his neck a good pop and crack. "Let's do it."

Nothing to do now but to soldier on...

Magically pulling open one door, Sombra stepped into the clinic's lobby, a quaint little beige-painted room with black and white-splotched wallpaper and dark gray-brown carpeting covered in black-purple stripes. The top and bottom trim of the walls featured designs of a rocking single-masted sailboat traveling atop choppy ocean waves, a fish-head sticking out of the water to peer at the sailboat's bow and stern. The framed pictures on the wall contained either landscape shots or cute animals like ducklings, puppies and kittens, a clear attempt at subconsciously placing the patient at ease by showing them something either recognizably mundane and nature-oriented or cute and harmless. Sombra actually liked art consisting of a nature theme and enjoyed the outdoors but he was already relaxed so it didn't count. Then again, the shaggy-coated canine covered in flour and wearing a chef's toque looked a little like a young Rowf, so it was working to some degree.

He approached the reception area, a large rectangular block squared-off by a glass wall

"May I help you?" A nasally voice bleated in Sombra's direction.

He peered past the glass window towards the receptionist, a forty-some-odd-ish earth pony with a dark grayish cerulean and light white gray beehive mane and a light pinkish-red coat. She looked as though she'd rather be anywhere but here, a most encouraging sign of the office's professionalism and solidarity. Adopting an air of every-stallion charm, Sombra approached the desk and smiled at the receptionist, who dully stared at him as she loudly smacked her gum with her bottom jaw jutting out at an odd angle. Ignoring this, he smiled at her and leaned forward smoothly.

"Yes, I have an appointment with Dr. Case Study?"

The receptionist yanked open a slot in the glass and stuck her foreleg out, tapping a clipboard on the desk.

"Sign here and be sure to include your name, date of birth, social security number, insurance information, any possible allergies, marital status, current or past health issues, current emotional anguish rating from one to ten, the reason for your visitation and overall rating of customer service satisfaction."

It was a perfectly rehearsed speech, loud chewing and constant gum popping aside.

Grrr, paperwork!

Off to the left side, there was a small nook that had been converted into a little patient reading area and after stealing a pen from the helpful coffee mug next to the front desk window, Sombra took advantage of the noticeable vacancy to sequester himself a seat in a faded dark gray polyester folding chair. It didn't take long for Sombra to complete the form, drawing on his own memorized knowledge of his persona's falsified history, knowledge that was indispensable for someone like him that was on the lam yet hiding in plain sight. The twenty-four-year-old only child to a pair of average blue-collar ponies, a steel mill worker and school cook respectfully, Guess Who was a drifter who hasn't had a stable home or job in the past sixteen years or so and didn't have much in the way of public history. His education was a bit spotty, dropping out of his second year of high school and taking several community college classes across Equestria, never finding a degree to commit to or a profession to claim. He finally settled in Canterlot to eke out a humble living as a public librarian until he could figure out his next move.

Once he was finished, Sombra slid the clipboard back to the receptionist and once again took his seat. The reading materials were sparse to say the least, consisting of rumpled-up magazines or torn children's picture books. He sighed and chose a copy of "Model Ship Enthusiast's Quarterly", the cover depicting a gray-bearded stallion flashing the camera a big cheesy grin as he proudly displayed a small red and black-painted schooner in his hooves. Rolling his eyes, Sombra flicked it open and found an article about a seventy-three-year-old retiree and his lifelong fascination with model ship building, a habit he picked up at the age of four from his father. The two would build ships together every chance they could, even when the son went off to college and later on following his marriage and the birth of his children.

Wow, this is...quite touching actually. I wonder if-...

"Guess Who?"

The receptionist's droning voice derailed Sombra's train of thought.

He carefully placed the magazine down and made a mental note to pick up his own copy.

Sombra approached the open door and found himself staring down at the receptionist, who appeared much taller from behind her desk and looked tiny even when compared to the glamour-image's height.

"Right down the hall to your left, it's the last door on the right side. Can't miss it, Hun."

"Thank you."

Get a new job..."Hun."

Shaking his head, Sombra proceeded down the powder blue hallway, past a row of grayish light brown wooden doors with steel lever handles and sign-posts bearing the names of different doctors. The tiled ceiling was eggshell white while the short carpeting was a light forest green, reminding Sombra of the rolling fields he used to play on as the umbrum caravan rolled its way through Equestria. The other colts and fillies would chase each other around, sword-fight with sticks, collect flowers or get into arguments about dumb topics, like whether or not whose father could beat up the other's father or if ponies could ever travel to the moon. There was one filly a couple of years older than Sombra whose grandfather was unshakably convinced that the "moon" was actually one of the sails to a great ship that was crewed by a race of rock-goblins that piloted it through the blackness of night searching for sky-gold. He was also of the belief that dogs were incapable of looking up, hunted for creatures called "snarks" while armed with lye-soap and a fork, and accused chestnuts of being lazy.

I'm sure he and Pinkie would've had loads to talk about.

He paused in front of a door labeled, "Doctor Case Study, PsyD".

So...this is it, huh?

Yes.

No backing out?

No.

You're scared, aren't you?

Bite me.

Magically pulling down on the door lever, Sombra gently pushed forward and forward and found himself face-to-face with a smiling pegasus mare.

"Hello there, Guess Who? I'm Doctor Case Study. Pleasure to meet you!"

Sombra tentatively took the proffered hoof and rocked it slightly.

The doctor was younger than Sombra imagined, appearing to be in her mid-to-late thirties, yet possessing a youthful face and chipper demeanor more befitting a mare half her age. Her coat was a yellowish gray and carefully brushed to a tidy, near-sparkling condition that perfectly matched her perfectly preened wings. Her dark brown mane was cut just above her shoulders and neatly parted down the middle, a little spit-curl forming a spiral over her left brow. She was garbed in a navy-blue blazer paired with a dark green necktie, which featured a tie pin in the shape of a winking smiley face. As opposed to the usual image of a shrink, she wore no glasses over her grayish pale pink eyes, both of which shimmered brightly with positivity and compassion, though Sombra was careful not to immediately lower his guard.

Looks could be deceiving, after all.

"Charmed." Sombra then added: "Rosie sent me."

Doctor Case Study's conduct changed. Her eyes shrank, her lips tightened into a thin line and her breathing became hitched, her nostrils letting out a quivering whistle. So, it appeared that Primrose told the good doctor about her mysterious new client's true identity beforehoof. Judging by the pegasus' reaction, this was going to be a significant issue, one that Sombra was hoping not to rectify via memory manipulation, thus shattering his recent track record of semi-good behavior and setting him far back in his road to total moral, emotional and mental recovery. For her part, Doctor Study continued to watch the newcomer, remaining firmly upright and immovable as a stubborn tree-stump.

The silence was so deafening that one could drop a feather and everyone could hear it.

"Before you say anything," Sombra began, making Doctor Study flinch from the sound. "I'm not here to hurt you or cause trouble. I really do wish to receive help, otherwise I wouldn't have come here."

Swallowing, Doctor Study slowly nodded.

"I-I see. Forgive me, Primrose did warn me who you really were and I thought I was prepared. It's just not every day I accept a notorious dark magician and tyrant as a client."

"So you're going to help me?"

"I will do my best," Doctor Study affirmed, some of her previous pep returning in her step.

As she retreated from him, Sombra made note of the doctor's cutie mark: a bright pink brain sitting atop a free-standing wooden staff equipped with a serpent coiled along its length. Minus the brain, it was an emblem that Sombra was familiar with, an ancient symbol of healing, medicine, wellness and rebirth.

How fitting.

After closing the blinds and securing the drapes, Doctor Study journeyed to her red oak desk and slid into her big dark reddish-brown office chair and folded her upon her desktop.

"Please, take a seat," she gestured towards the green velvet chair across from her.

Sombra raised a brow. "I'd prefer to stand, thank you."

"Right, of course. Um, you can lower your disguise...or drop it? Nopony can see us."

Peering at the covered windows, Sombra thought for a moment and then consented, the glamour spell rippling sporadically before vanishing completely. Now he was as he truly appeared, an odd mixture of liberating alleviation and immense discomfort filling him to the brim and for a millisecond, Sombra briefly considered that he'd made a mistake. He had taken a gargantuan risk by coming to this shrink-house and trusting Primrose to select this stranger with the secret of his identity. Now he was supposed to bear his soul to this random mare and hope that none of it could be weaponized against him in the future? This was exactly why he stuck to his own company.

Then why make an effort to change your ways? His inner voice inquired. Face it, the lone wolf thing hasn't been working for you, has it?

Sombra didn't take the bait, choosing to ignore his conscience(?).

Doctor Study was watching him now. "You're...taller, than I was expecting."

"Taller..."

"Not in a bad way!" She hastily added, scrambling for an amelioration to her observation. "More like well-built...buff!"

"Doctor," Sombra exhaled and held up a hoof. "Please. No need to tip-toe around me. Just say what's on your mind and we'll be golden. Is that understood?"

The pegasus nodded and let out an embarrassed little half-chuckle.

"Right, of course. Ahem, so tell me...Sombra, what brings you here?"

Pausing, Sombra gestured to the room around him. "Is it safe to use my real name?"

"Oh, you mean the sound? Not to worry, all of the offices are magically protected by an anti-aural spell to ensure proper doctor-patient confidentiality. You could shout if you wanted to. Most clients find it therapeutic."

"I'm sure they do. Anyway, the reason I am here is because I recently came to the realization that I don't particularly care for who I am and I want to make a change."

Tapping her inkwell, Doctor Study began scratching away on a fresh sheet of paper.

"And what kind of change are we talking about?"

Sombra scratched his right pastern, gently grazing Garnet's bracelet.

He sighed and admitted, "I want to be...good? At least, a better stallion than who I am now. Someone I can actually stomach to look in the mirror, that other ponies would want to be around."

"Sombra, you're already making progress!" Doctor Study exclaimed elatedly.

"I am?"

"Absolutely! The first step on the path to solving a problem is to admit that you have one in the first place! Do you know how difficult it is for ponies to acknowledge their flaws? This is good!"

Pride welled up within Sombra's chest, though his face reflected passive comprehension.

"In my experience," Doctor Study continued more seriously. "Those who choose to visit a 'shrink' or psychiatrist usually have unresolved emotional or mental issues that they want to address. Do you feel this way?"

The village's warning bell rumbled, every toll a command for its inhabitants to either flee to safety or stand and fight the invaders. Since the settlement's formation, it had never been rung before so Sombra had no clue as to its true meaning, ignorantly sitting with his wooden and straw-and-cloth toys while umbrums around him chaotically raced to and fro like chimeras with mange. Foals were being frantically scooped up into their parents' or relatives' embrace and spirited away, many of them just as confused as Sombra for the sudden disarray. The next thing Sombra knew, Persephone was charging towards him and hectically wrenching him up to her chest, her beautiful face stricken with mortal panic.

<"We have to go, my Sombra!">

<"But why, Mama? Where is Papa? What is that sound?">

<"There is no time! They're here-...!">

Off in the distance, the banners of the Crystal Empire were closing the distance, approaching the village like the dorsal fins of prowling sharks. The fully armored crystal ponies were charging full-speed, their weapons drawn and stern faces emitting war-cries as they readied themselves for the oncoming attack. Meanwhile, umbrums left and right were clambering to escape, throwing themselves at the inside barrier wall, every impact sending a loud, crackling buzz sending a fluctuating ripple in the impenetrable fore-field, the sounds reverberating throughout the village. Some umbrums didn't panic, however, dressed in their finest battle-attire and armed to the teeth, choosing to race toward the invaders in an effort to defend their home and families. It wasn't until the first wave of attackers passed through the barrier that the truth of the situation became clear, though little Sombra wasn't aware of this fact at the onset.

<"We are doomed..."> Persephone concluded in an epiphanic gasp.

"Yes. I do."

Doctor Study nodded. "So tell me, what was your foalhood like?"

"I grew up within a nomadic umbrum community. We traveled around Equestria before settling in the Frozen North."

"And what was your relationship like with your parents?"

Weland and Persephone sat huddled up next to the cottage's center fire-pit, watching the flames crackling and taking in both their heat and the heat of each other. That is, until a certain young umbrum stumbled into their sight.

<"Sombra?"> Persephone shifted away from her husband. <"Why aren't you asleep?">

Little Sombra sniffled. <"I had a bad dream.>"

Weland chuckled. <"Is that all? Come, my son, warm yourself by the fire.>"

The colt was more than happy to accept the invitation, squeezing himself between his parents and settling in as his father placed a foreleg around him.

<"Mama?">

<"Yes, my beloved?">

<"Are you going to leave me?">

Both adults peered down at him in bewilderment.

<"Was that what your bad dream was about?">

Sombra nodded, laying his head on his mother's side. He let out a sigh as she began stroking his mane.

<"I was in a dark forest and I called for you but you and Papa didn't come.">

Persephone kissed Sombra's nose, causing him to snort-grumble and wipe at the spot.

<"That was just a dream, sweet one. Papa and I love you so very much.">

Sombra lifted up his head. <"How much?">

Pondering for a moment, Persephone beamed, <"How many stars are in the sky?">

Sombra frowned at this answer. <"I don't know. Many?">

Weland chuckled and rubbed Sombra's back in little circles.

<"Too many to count, my lad. No matter how many there are, we love you more than the number of stars in the sky.">

<"And we will always be with you,"> Persephone softly declared, nuzzling her son.

<"No matter what...">

"It was pleasant," Sombra replied, unaware of the bittersweet nostalgic smile on his face. "I loved them very much."

"That's nice to hear."

His expression then soured. "When I was six, they were...taken from me."

Doctor Study's quill momentarily stopped. "I'm...so sorry to hear that. How did it happen?"

"With fire and steel," he morosely stated, his stare almost vacant.

"S-Sombra..."

He glanced up at the doctor.

"Please, calm down. You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

Sombra blinked and looked down, noticing the deep grooves he'd inadvertently ground into the pinewood floor with his right hoof.

"I'm sorry."

"It's alright. Clearly, you've been through a traumatic event."

"...I think I'm done talking about it."

Neither one of them spoke, allowing the seconds to tick by into minutes.

"Tell me," Doctor Study eventually started. "Have you ever heard of inkblot tests?"

Sombra shook his head.

Opening up a drawer, Doctor Study pulled out a small stack of twelve-by-fifteen-inch laminated cards.

"The basic principle is that you take a look at these pictures and tell me what you interpret them to be."

Curiously, Sombra took a step closer. "How do I know if I get it right?"

"Oh, well, there is no right or wrong answer. Just be honest."

Picking the first card in the pile, Doctor Study held it up, the surface covered in a pitch-black splotch.

"What does it look like to you?"

Sombra squinted at the image, trying to put a proper shape to the randomness.

The village was burning now, fires racing across the land to devour everything in its path...

“A pretty butterfly...”

Making a note, Doctor Study replaced it with a fresh one.

"And now?"

Little Sombra thrashed against the telekinetic grip of King Carnelian, his hindhooves skidding against the ground in a futile attempt at slowing his momentum. Beside him, Queen Aquamarine was whispering affirmations in Umbrumese.

<"It'll be alright, sweet-heart. Everything is going to be okay. Please, stop struggling.">

<"No! I don't want to go! Release me! I want my mother!">

A few feet ahead, the Crystal Heart was lazily rotating, the gem glowing ominously.

<"Wh-what is that?!"> Sombra screamed and struggled even harder. <"I don't like it!">

"This will all be over soon enough," King Carnelian stated quietly, though it was unclear whom he was addressing. "And we can put this whole mess behind us."

Slowly, the Crystal Heart began spinning even faster, its surface now burning with an intense brilliance.

<"Let me go! You monsters! You're monsters! Don't give me to that thing!">

<"Hush, now hush, little darling,"> Queen Aquamarine cooed. <"It won't hurt...>"

“Some nice flowers,” Sombra threw out, withholding the truth behind his interpretation.

"And now?"

Sombra, now self-appointed "King Sombra", stared through the swirling portal of the magic mirror's surface, his entire body wracked by indecision. He had just placed Garnet in the custody of a human family and returned to the castle but couldn't shut the portal down for some reason. He knew what he had to do but did he have the resolve and willpower to do so? Perhaps he could hide Garnet away somewhere, some uninhabited secret place where she'd be safe from discovery and could live out her days in peace. But what happened if one of his more violent allies like Lavan or Queen Chelicerae learned of his adopted sister's location and decided to end her before she became a threat? Or perhaps Garnet might decide to raise an army to take back the Crystal Empire and avenge her parents, forcing King Sombra to eliminate her in open combat, the one area where she was completely inept?

"It has to be done," King Sombra growled. "No more nuisances, no more loose ends..."

Charging his horn with malefic energy, he took aim and fired...

"A sailboat..."

Doctor Study recorded his answer and shook her head slightly but said nothing.

"Alright...let's try word association. I use a word and you tell me the first thing to pop into your mind."

"Snow," she said.

"Cold," Sombra immediately answered.

"Mother."

"Safety."

"Father."

"Protection."

"Celestia."

"Heifer."

Doctor Study sputtered, clearly caught off-guard by this slight against the co-monarch.

"Well that's certainly telling. Ahem, 'love.'"

"Obstacle."

"Crystal."

"Destruction."

"Fire"

"Tears."

Sombra's left hindleg began lightly kicking backwards.

"Brother."

"Relative."

"Sister."

Scowling, Sombra bit down on his lip to keep his teeth from chattering.

"R-regret!"

"Regret."

"Pain!"

"Sombra."

"Monster!"

Sombra began panting, his chest burning and his throat feeling scratchy.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine."

Doctor Study nodded and continued:

"Empire."

"Corruption."

"Smoke."

"Scr...screaming."

"Mirror."

"Bad."

"What was that?"

"Bad!"

Practically leaping out of her chair, Doctor Study placed a wing around Sombra.

"Hey, hey now, it's okay. It's okay, Sombra. Breathe. That's it. Breathe..."

Slowly, Sombra's inhales-exhales became light and effortless.

"Here," Doctor Study led Sombra to a small dark turquoise-blue sofa and helped him settle into it.

Sombra hated the idea of lounging in an unfamiliar place with an unfamiliar pony but his mind was so frazzled by the ordeal that he couldn't think straight and allowed himself to sink into the sofa. He hated thinking about his past, his prior mistakes and their repercussions, everything. He didn't want to relive his village's destruction, the Crystal Heart or his sister's permanent banishment. It was over a thousand years ago, yet he was still chained to the memories, fettered to his every decision and wrongdoing with no way to cut through his adamantine restraints. How long must he suffer because of it? How long until the guilt crushed him under its weight?

"Drink this."

Sombra peered up at Doctor Study, then to the glass of crystal-clear water in her hoof. With a bit of hesitation on his part, he took the glass and emptied it, then placed it back into Doctor Study's hoof.

"Thank you," he gulped and wiped his brow.

Doctor Study cocked her head at him.

"...What?"

"Forgive me, but you're not at all what I expected when Primrose told me you'd be coming by."

Sombra chuckled at this. "Oh? What were you expecting?"

"A total raging looney?"

"'Looney'? Is that an official medical diagnosis?"

Doctor Study giggled. "Not quite."

She then sobered up. "Sombra, I know you lied during the inkblot test."

When he didn't respond, she said, "I think I understand why. You mentioned earlier that your parents were 'taken from you' and that it was with 'fire and steel.' You weren't being sarcastic or hyperbolic, were you?"

Sombra hung his head. "No..."

"Listen, foalhood trauma is an unpleasant reality but one that has to be faced if any progress is to be made. I know it's hard but I need you to trust me enough to confide in me. Whatever issues you have must be addressed. Otherwise, you'll never get better. Please, Sombra...help me to help you."

Raising his head, Sombra found himself reading the soul of someone that genuinely desired to aid him in battling his inner demons. He'd been alone for so long, ignoring his problems or trying to fix them with powers beyond his control or comprehension, dealing damage to himself and those around him. Choking Spike, turning Cadence into an infant, mentally scarring Fluttershy, all of it weighed heavily on his accursed soul and he could never take it all back.

"No matter what you do, they will never accept you..."

No, he couldn't afford to listen to Midnight. Up to this point, Sombra had done nothing but stew in his own self-loathing. He could not and would not allow any more negativity to cloud his judgment. Even if the others never fully accepted or forgave him, the very least he could do is forgive himself. He would try to correct his current behavior and make a new path to a better and brighter future. Yes, by Faust, he would.

"Okay," Sombra nodded and rose to a sitting position. "Where do we start?"

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