Starswirl. Archmage of Pearl. Greatest Unicorn of a generation. He has amassed power in the name of creating a lasting legacy. After seeing a vision, he finds this facet of his person in jeopardy.
He will do anything to protect it.
Part of the Corrupt Pillars Anthology
Content Warnings for the following: Suicide, Blood, Death, Poison, Blood, Body Horror
[As recorded by Order of the Sun Knight Sir Quill Point at the Temple of Oracles]
An ode to the great Sun, Apollo.
Radiant be his gifts of music and art.
A teller of tales, a generous guide to inspiration.
He watches over us.
The crow in the tree, one eye upon us, the other toward the future.
Blessed visions to thee! A prophetic gift.
He grants us foresight to better bear the weight of the future.
To prepare for what is to come.
Truly a great Sun.
But whispers from fools come from shadowed corners.
They speak of his lesser aspects.
Of medicine. Of plague.
They question his visions on whether they be gifts or curses.
That their purpose is not of guidance, but madness.
Deep, obsessive, self-destructive madness.
Perish the thought listeners, spurn these tall-tales!
Apollo is the Sun!
Apollo is Great!
Apollo can do no Wrong!
Apollo— Apollo — A—
[Transcript of Ode is cut off. Oracle of Delphi reported to have choked on his own blood before he was able to finish. Followers of Artemis were blamed as an act of sabotage toward Apollo. The Temple of Artemis was later raided and destroyed within the same day. A temple of Apollo was built in its place.]
[Transcribed by Archivist of the Black Sun Lune Dancer]
Legacy. Such a tantalizing word. As intoxicating as the ambrosia of the Gods. Greatness. Power. Success. All embodied within a single concept. A name passed down through generations, always present in the back of the minds who choose to follow after. An echo that can be heard through a millenia.
Starswirl will be one of those names. It was inevitable. He will be known. He will be remembered. He will persevere against time itself in his quest for legacy.
He will not be found at the bottom of some bargain bin in a used bookstore, his name carrying the same weight as some hack philosopher or new age trash monger. He will rise above the filth he came from. Away from his weak-willed, pitiful mother who couldn’t even manage to remove herself from the gutter of her own grief to see the greatness of her son. Just another ungrateful wretch that deserved to be left to live in squalor as he ascended through the ranks of greatness.
These fears would soon be nothing as he would finally defeat time. Visions of his power flooded his mind. Visions of that upstart being beaten by him. Visions of that purple sodden peasant grounded into the dirt under his hoof.
There was, of course, a minor snag. Apollo was using him.
But Starswirl was no fool. He knew this, and was simply being pragmatic to achieve his goals. Sacrifices were required, less than pleasant ordeals. He would be Apollo’s so-called “entertainment,” so long as his name was truly made synonymous with that oh-so-glorious legacy.
It mattered not what was lost or what was sacrificed in the name of his goals. Whether it be him or others. Only what Starswirl could achieve by doing so was important.
His fur fell away, his skin peeling to reveal bone. His eyes burned in his sockets, consumed by green flames as ichor poured from them like a fountain. His heart pumped to an unnatural rhythm, unaffected by the arrow pierced straight through it.
Pain was momentary. Legacy was forever. He would endure. He would persevere. He would never be forgotten.
When his transformation was complete, he would become whom he was meant to become. Though a plaything of a God, he would ensure personally that no one would ever forget his name.
“Useless, useless, useless,” Starswirl muttered angrily to himself as he ascended the stairs of his ivory tower.
One-way full-length glass walls showed a scenic view of the harbour town of Pearl, bathed in the light of the moon and pale imitations of it. A magic-enriched coastal settlement inhabited by only the strongest of magically-inclined unicorns. His tower was situated at the town’s highest point, a place of power granted only to the Archmage, the most intelligent and magically gifted unicorn of the Magi, which was obviously him.
“They were supposed to only be marginally incompetent, not wholly worthless,” Starswirl continued.
He liked to talk to himself, since who better to speak with than the smartest unicorn of a generation? His so-called “apprentices”, six in total with names not worth remembering save one, certainly weren’t worth talking to.
They were chosen as a tactical decision on his part. Train those with some measure of talent from the slums and they would happily act as a shield for him against the vultures that circled him, hungry for his power. They were expendable, but could be made of some use to one such as himself if they weren’t all such idiots.
“Is it really so difficult to even learn the fundamentals?” Starswirl seethed. “A simple teleport to town square and back. I could do that before I even began elementary school, yet these imbeciles can’t even cast it.” He hummed thoughtfully as he amended, “Well, most of them can’t. Stygian can at least do one-way.”
Stygian, his best and most studious pupil who was marginally intelligent and somewhat enjoyable to speak with. Taken directly from the orphanage where he had been abandoned, he showed the most promise of the lot. Especially as a spell cracker with his knack of copying other unicorn’s unique spell signatures.
Though, he did have some… strange ideas. He wanted to experiment with mixing unicorn magic with the other races. Even with those outside of ponydom. Starswirl thought it was a waste of time considering how obviously superior unicornian magic was, but Stygian was insistent on it.
“... I’ll keep him,” Starswirl mumbled as he opened the door to his personal chambers. “Maybe indulge his crazed ideas to ensure he stays around. As for the rest of them… I’m tempted to cut them off, but I’ll still give them a chance to redeem themselves in the coming days.”
Should they fail at even that, he would send them back to the gutters where he’d pulled them from. What they did after that wasn’t Starswirl’s problem. He had gotten out of that cesspool on his own merit. There was no reason others couldn’t do the same.
“Always a problem of competency,” Starswirl remarked as he flicked the lights on with a burst of magic.
His chambers were bathed in light. An amalgamation of book stacks and tables heavily laden by equipment, various projects in different states of completion. There were no personal touches save for a cheap star-patterned blanket covering the bed in the corner. A carryover from his past for the sake of frugality.
“I should rest,” Starswirl mumbled. “These problems can be addressed later.” He trotted toward his bed, but found his attention drawn to a bubbling concoction on one of his workbenches. “It's done early… I could maybe take a few moments to test and do some initial observations…”
As was the case most nights, Starswirl focused his attention on his latest project of interest until he eventually passed out on the table, snoring loudly.
A purple unicorn mare stands defiantly before a corrupt alicorn. There are several shadowy figures behind the unicorn. They are not important. Starswirl takes a moment to gain his bearings. He appears to be having a dream vision. He remarks in bemusement that the scene before him feels almost like a fantasy with a lesser futilely going up against an Ascended.
There is a burst of powerful harmonic energy. The alicorn is purified. She is congratulated by a second alicorn that appears.
Twilight Sparkle. A foalish name.
A strange chaos creature of mismatched parts. A Changeling Queen. A powerful umbrum of shadows. They lay prone before her. Starswirl begrudgingly admits that it is a moderately impressive feat.
She is holding a scroll now. He recognizes it. A useless spell he designed in his early days that had gone nowhere. An attempt at ascension that had proved impossible with what even he was capable of. She is studying it, attempting to figure out how to finish the incantation.
He scoffs. A futile effort.
She casts her pathetic spell… she succeeds.
This Twilight Sparkle had succeeded where he had failed. She has Ascended.
He casts a simple lucidity spell to give him control of the dream vision. He sorts through her life. She is a peasant coming from a lower noble family. She is a unicorn of considerable might. She is an intellectual. He pauses during one moment where she is dressed in his standard garb. She claims he is her hero. Her inspiration.
… She stole his work. She stole his work and did it better.
He feels an ugly emotion bubble up inside him. Different from the rage that was slowly boiling over. He can’t place it. It was an emotion he so rarely felt. What was it? What was this feeling?
Starswirl figures it out. It’s Envy. A gutter trash emotion.
He realizes it now. He hates her. He despises her. She took his name, his legacy. She has taken his place and consumed his power.
More of her life flashes past his eyes. Each moment another sliver of jealousy in his heart. It justifies his hatred. He did not know where this unicorn existed, when, but he knew that he hated Twilight Sparkle more than anyone he had ever known.
In the throes of his obsession, his rage, his envy, his inferiority, and his righteousness, he wakes up.
“I am trying, Archmage,” Stygian replied, face scrunched up in concentration.
An orange was situated between master and student on a table. It was halfway toward its transformation into an apple, the seam between both fruits blurred. The pale black glow of Stygian’s magic around the fruit flickered, the strain becoming too much.
“Push, Stygian!” Starswirl shouted.
“I-I—!” The spell broke. Stygian collapsed onto the table, breathing ragged, coat covered in froth. “I’m sorry, but this task is still beyond me.”
Starswirl grabbed a nearby book in the glow of his magic and threw it across the room. It hit a bookshelf with a loud bang, dislodging several times from its shelves.
Stygian flinched.
“You’re my best pupil, and you can’t even cast the most simple of transfiguration spells!” Starswirl stomped back and forth along the floor, snorting infrequently to vent his frustration. “What is the point of taking on apprentices who are not even capable of learning what I teach?!”
“We are trying our best,” Stygian placated. “Flicker in particular has—”
“Flicker can barely cast an illumination spell!” Starswirl slammed his hooves onto the table. He shot Stygian with a cold, furious expression. “Excuses do not become you or anyone else.”
“... Is everything alright, Archmage?” Stygian asked. “You are usually more patient with us, yet your temper appears to fire off at the slightest setback this morning.”
“That is because of the sheer incompetence of the ones I have stupidly taken under my tutelage!” He slammed his hooves once more on the table, then resumed his pacing. “My legacy is in jeopardy and you are all useless toward remedying the situation.”
“You are the strongest unicorn of a generation and the Archmage of the greatest magical institute in the land,” Stygian remarked. “Your name will be known for centuries.”
He rounded on Stygian. “Centuries, but not a millenia!” Starswirl exclaimed. “Any accomplishments I may achieve from now until my final rest will be erased by some sodding peasant based on the whims of destiny!”
“Do you not mean to say could or may?”
“I do not!”
Several gears clicked into place within Stygian’s mind. “Were you perhaps gifted a vision of what is to come?”
More books were made casualties to Starswirl’s rage.
“I shall presume an affirmative,” Stygian said. “Well, I think a legacy spanning several centuries is still a worthy achievement. Fate is, regrettably, inevitable and can only be divined, not changed. You should—”
“That’s it!” Starswirled whipped toward Stygian, a crazed spark in his eye. “Divine!”
“... I do not see how seeing the vision again will provide anything more than frustration,” Stygian said.
“No, I mean to see the Oracle,” Starswirl replied, his tone suggesting the answer obvious. “He will know of a way to sustain my legacy.”
“That is rather dangerous,” Stygian said in a worried tone. “There are many a tale of—”
“Hardly applicable to one as great as myself,” Starswirl said dismissively as he began to gather supplies from around the room to take with him. “You will hold the tower. Ensure no Magi snoop around while I’m away.”
Stygian looked uncertain at Staswirl’s course of action, but reluctantly nodded in affirmation. “Very well, Archmage. Safe travels.”
“It is I, Stygian,” Starswirl retorted with a snort. “I hardly need well wishes for safety.”
Starswirl harrumphed and looked askance, a rail-thin foal uncomfortable with the company they found themselves with.
His mother, a skeletal mauve unicorn wearing a mourning veil that hadn’t come off in literal years, stuck far too close to him as they trotted toward his new home at the Unicornian School for the Gifted.
He had finally managed to make it to those hallowed halls at the top of his enrolling class. His tuition was fully paid off by the remainder of his late father’s and older brother’s inheritance. The prior being an act of karma, the latter enough to break his mother.
The problem of dealing with her would soon not be his.
“They will only bring you harm,” his mother, Farsight, continued. “They will lead you astray. Veer the course of your destiny away from what it is meant to be.”
“I can discern the usefulness of the crones myself, mother,” he spat out.
“Listen to these warnings, my Star. Our family has lost much to their whims.”
“Yet, they have granted me passage out of these slums.” And away from you, Starswirl silently added.
“They grant as much as they take. You will be great, I have no doubt in this, never have, but—” She whirled on him, gripping his shoulder. Hard. He squirmed painfully. “Don’t let baseless visions lead you away from what you are meant to achieve. Become the Pillar you are meant to be.”
She stared at him with milky eyes, her pale blue iris piercing the veil to peer down at him like stars in the sky. Judging him. Controlling him. He felt fear envelop him as he looked back at eyes that saw too much. It was suffocating.
“Don’t forget,” Farsight whispered.
He couldn’t decide if it was a threat or a reminder.
All at once, she let him go. Unwilling to be in the company of this horrid mare any longer, he began to climb the steps of the school, body hunched defensively to hide from his mother’s gaze.
“I love you, my Star.”
He paused mid-step. Proper etiquette required a response, nevermind that, despite how little Starswirl wished for it, she was his mother. But he remembered the filthy box apartment they had lived in. How much it had degraded as she continued to refuse help from him and everyone else, wallowing in her piteous misery. She couldn’t function without him and fully expected to hear of her passing within a month. He found it difficult to feel bad about it.
Despite this, he had a moment of yearning to turn back. He foalishly thought that maybe he would see the mare who had been, the one before all the tragedy thoroughly broke her. When she had been a mother and not a walking corpse.
But that’s all it was, ultimately. Foalish.
He continued ascending the steps toward his destiny. He deigned not to look back.
Starswirl entered the Temple of Delphi, the doors sliding open to allow him entry, then shutting as he went through. The interior was a grandiose affair of marble and carved sunstone. He trotted along an ornate velvet carpet, noting the tacky steam baths filled by overhead waterfalls and the frankly obscene number of petals carpeting the place from imported sakura trees that he knew would have cost the temple a fortune to upkeep. It was, in Starswirl’s opinion, too over-the-top, and he resided within a literal ivory tower.
At the end of the carpet, there was a long, wooden table with two cushions on either side, the one furthest from him occupied by a hooded oracle of unknown tribe and appearance. Starswirl sat on the cushion opposite them.
“We see that the Archmage of Pearl has deigned to visit us,” the Oracle said, bemusement in his voice. “We also see that he likes to use his connections to cut the line.”
“My time is much more important than some common rabble about what frying pan to use,” Starswirl retorted.
“Yet they are some of the most amusing requests by how utterly stupid they are.” The Oracle tilted their head to one side. “What do you seek from the Oracle Phoebus?”
Starswirl snorted. “What an absurd name.”
“And yet, it is mine. We shall once more repeat, what do you seek from the Oracle Phoebus?”
“... I have seen visions of the future.”
“A most fortuitous occurrence from our great Apollo. Congratulations to you are in order for receiving such a miraculous gift.”
“Yes, truly great.” Starswirl rolled his eyes. “What a blessing it is to see my legacy destroyed before my very eyes by a purple menace.”
“Be careful of your words, Archmage,” Phoebus warned. “Your words may come off as an insult to our God.”
“And our God could have done me the favour of not showing me something I can do nothing about.”
“The visions do not agree with you?”
A grunt.
“Unfortunately, we are not in the business of fixing giftee’s remorse.” Phoebus chuckled at their own joke. “How do you expect us to assist you?”
“I know what oracles are capable of.”
“To see and guide—”
“Control,” Starswirl interrupted, his hooves on the table, his tone like a blunt hammer against a nail. “You can change the course of these events.”
A pause. “With your position and knowledge, we shall skip the prologue and move onto the main act.” Starswirl could feel the attitude of Phoebus shift from bemusement to seriousness. “What is it you wish for exactly? To sustain your legacy? Make it everlasting?”
“By any means possible,” Starsiwrl answered.
Another pause. “Any means?”
“I will not repeat myself.”
“And yet your statement does not tell us enough. What is ‘any’? Would you kill? Yourself, others? Would you be able to commit reprehensible acts against nature itself? Would you—”
Starswirl slammed his hooves on the table, drawing himself up to his full height, his eyes boring into Phoebus. “There is no line I will not cross to ensure my legacy!” He shouted. “Stop circling the point and tell me what. I. Must. Do.” He spat the last word, the resulting saliva impacting on the table just under the Oracle.
Phoebus pulled back their hood. The surprisingly youthful and handsome stallion stared back with a wide, toothy, malicious grin. He had golden fur with a lighter-coloured mane. His two eyes had shattered pupils resembling the starry night sky.
Starswirl found them uncomfortably similar to that of his mother.
“Very well then,” Phoebus said. “We will prepare for you six arrows. You will stab the targets we tell you to with these arrows, then teleport them to six different locations that we will provide. Once the deed is done, you will return here.”
“Who are the recipients?” Starswirl asked, unperturbed by the presumption of murder.
There was a spark in Phoebus’s eyes. Starswirl recognized it as madness. “Your disciples.”
“Prepare the arrows and locations by tonight and I will have it done by the morrow,” Starswirl replied.
Starswirl wondered if maybe he had that same spark in his.
Starswirl plunged the arrow into his disciple’s chest with his magic. He stared impassively as Tome Seeker screamed, clutching at his chest. Blood splattered Starswirl’s face, giving the impression of depth, but he could tell through the feel of his magic that it was not deep enough.
“How frustrating,” Starswirl remarked. He increased the strength of his magic, plunging the arrow deeper into Tome, his screams rising in pitch. “I had always known you were thick-headed, I just never knew that also meant your skin.”
Tome collapsed to the ground as his blood turned from scarlet to a horrid mix of pink, green, and purple. The poison in the arrow worked fast, Tome’s body already beginning to waste away.
“The fifth one was to…” He checked the note tucked into an inner pocket of his robe “... Somnambula?” He did a rapid calculation in his brain. “Even I couldn’t muster enough magic to teleport a body there. Perhaps I could dump the body on their neighbours? That should suffice.”
A burst of magic and the corpse was whisked away to its destination. He pulled out the sixth and final arrow from the quiver strapped over his chest with his magic. An ornate gold shaft with swirls of pink along the exterior, its metal head a sharpened point embedded with a hidden poison.
There was one last disciple to find and Stygian had proved to be wily, hiding away from him in the initial entry. His machinations mattered not to Starswirl, as it was only a matter of time before he would find him.
He stalked the corridors of his tower, many of the rooms significantly damaged in the prior scuffles with his admittedly strong disciples. If they had shown such promise before all of this, he may not have had to resort to these measures, but, alas, they were adamant in their selfishness to not be sacrificed for his achievements, so now he must deign to hunt them.
A demeaning task.
After several fruitless minutes of search, Starswirl released a huff of annoyance. Stygian was frustratingly good at this game of hide and seek, and this was starting to become more of a chore as time wore on. He was confident that he would eventually best him, however. The tower was magically locked from the outside with his signature. There was no way out but via his magic.
As he trotted into one of the nearby rooms, he was blinded by a flash of silver light. He reeled back, then felt a stab of pain. When he regained his vision, he noticed red blood drip from a razor-thin cut along his neck.
Looking up, Starswirl saw Stygian, dressed in his dark apprentice robes with a silver knife in his mouth. Starswirl’s blood dripped from the blade. He looked battered, severely wounded from Starswirl’s assault, yet there was a fire of determination in his eyes.
“And what exactly did you hope to achieve with that?” Starswirl asked.
Stygian’s magic grabbed the knife and floated it next to his head.
“Lessons on Magical Signatures,” Stygian recited. “Most powerful spells can only be bypassed by the signature of the unicorn that cast it. In these cases, a simple replica will not suffice and the owner’s glow will need to be copied. This feat is not possible, except for one notable exception.”
Starswirl’s eyes widened as he realized Stygian’s intentions.
“No!” Starswirl shouted as he threw his magic forward to stop Stygian.
“Goodbye, Archmage,” Stygian spat.
Having acquired a sample of Starswirl’s blood and a powerful conduit of silver, Stygian’s magical aura changed to match that of Starswirl’s own, then quickly cast a one-way teleport as far away from the tower as possible.
Starswirl’s magic blasted into Stygian’s chest.
Stygian teleported away.
“No,” Starswirl yelled. He grabbed the nearest object with his magic and threw it, breaking everything in the projectile’s trajectory. He grabbed several more afterward as he shouted, “No, no, no, No, No, NO, NO, NO!”
“Now what are we supposed to do, Starswirl?”
He whipped his head toward the newcomer. Two shattered stars stared back at him.
“You have failed,” Phoebus stated.
“Not yet! I can still turn this around. I just—!”
“He’s long gone. You won’t find him. Not in time,” Phoebus interrupted.
“Someone else then!” Starswirl said, desperation in his voice.
“No one else is available. It had to be your apprentices, as they are the only ones that had enough of your magical signature naturally upon them to properly trigger the plague stored within the arrows.”
“Please, there must be—” A moment of realization “—They need my signature to work?”
“Unfortunately, there is still a small snag,” Phoebus said. “This does not align with the original plan.”
“But my life will still suffice, will it not?” Starswirl asked. “I can still salvage this?”
“You can.” Phoebus drew out the last word. His tone was casual, almost dismissive as he trotted around Starswirl, stepping over the puddles of blood. “But it also means that we’ll have to change the script.”
“And what change is that? Was I not your so-called hero in the original conception of this scheme?”
“You were, but with the change in plans, we’ll have to give you a different role. Especially as the original target will be impossible to corrupt now.” Phoebus sighed. “Alas, I had hoped to include the Crystal Empire in the initial tragedy, but that is now impossible.”
“Then what role shall I have?” Starswirl demanded.
“As you know, the Corrupt Pillars, as we have called them, need a guide. With the original position unfilled, we need someone new to fill it.” He shrugged. “You never did specify whether you wanted to be famous or infamous.”
“... You would have me be the villain.”
“The lead, even!” Phoebus exclaimed. He wrapped his hooves around Starswirl’s shoulders, his weight pressing down on Starswirl’s back, a lazy grin on his face. “A shepherd for the monstrosities that will plague this land, pun intended. Top monster and—”
“Just hurry up to the part where you tell me what to do,” Starswirl interjected. He used his magic to remove Phoebus from his back.
Phoebus grinned widely. “Stab yourself with the final arrow.”
With no hesitation, Starswirl gripped the noted arrow in his magic and plunged the sharp end straight through his heart. He released a choked gasp in shock as it sunk into him.
“I can’t believe you did it.” Phoebus laughed; a sharp, maddening sound. “No, wait, yes I can.”
Phoebus began to glow, to change. A multitude of wings sprouted from his back, his mane transformed into strings of pure light. A halo appeared behind his head, an interlocking circle that twisted in on itself. He glowed brighter and brighter, an entity of light to blot out everything around it. The only thing that didn’t change was his eyes, a starry sky twinkling with euphoric bliss.
His wings enshrouded Starswirl. He was a presence bigger than him, greater than what he could ever hope to accomplish.
The Sun, Apollo.
“A single vision,” Apollo said, awe and bemusement in his voice. “That was all it took to set you down this path. The depraved depths of your soul brings me endless joy, Starswirl. Truly there has never been anyone as entertaining as you, our avatar.”
“This will work?” Starswirl asked, uncaring of Phoebus’s true identity and the pain coursing through his body. “This will preserve my legacy?”
Apollo smiled. It was a horrible, ugly thing at odds with his divine appearance. Starswirl saw the fall of civilizations in that smile, of strife for centuries to come.
“Preserve? No, Starswirl.” He engulfed Starswirl further within his wings, swallowing him within the light. “You will not preserve your legacy.
[Conversation recorded by one of Apollo’s cherubs during a private meeting with the Fates]
Catastrophe, a cure for apathetic boredom.
To administer, you will need to indulge in your darker aspects.
A plan most cunning needed to enact.
And what aspect is this? A bad mane day? You crones do have a tendency to over-exaggerate.
A plague most deadly.
The kind that brings out the worst in others.
Enough to spread unending turmoil throughout the world.
An interesting idea, however, a plague, from experience, is only good for a few years of entertainment before it becomes stale. Only so many whining people I can take before it becomes tiresome.
The plague you will spread will be special.
A threat to corrupt would-be champions into your personal clowns.
Heroes to Monsters, a new fate most foul.
Well, that is certainly more interesting than a bad mane day. Alright. What will I need?
Arrows of wasting, a disease to sap strength.
Locations we shall give, the places to spread.
A chosen you will need to choose, a lynchpin to keep this twisted weave together.
Nothing I can't manage. Is that all?
Corruption requires agents.
Willing, and unknowing in equal measure.
Allies sympathetic to your boredom.
And who might these Allies be? Surely you would not expect me to find them myself? Far too many options.
Fire to embolden Courage, Sleep to delude Healing.
Death to show Hope another way, Tragedy to make Beauty shine.
Victory to show Strength what matters, and finally the Sun to reveal the depravity of Magic.
Oh? An active participant as well as a coordinator. How novel. I like this plan. It should provide a decent break from my mundanity. We thank you, Fates. You always know the best way to entertain me.
Anytime, Sun.
You always bring us something interesting.
A welcome wrinkle in our weaves.
And we are thankful that you indulge us so. Now, I shall take my leave. I have heroes to corrupt and a lynchpin to find… or perhaps already found? That unicorn… he could be an interesting proposition. Well, not something to bother you all with. Tata!
[Transcribed by Archivist of the Black Sun Lune Dancer after raid on the Temple of Apollo in Pearl. Stored in the private estate of the Blueblood family in Baltimare.]
The arrow had pierced Sombra straight through the chest. He gulped in air as he lay against the banister of the Crystal Palace, blood flowing from his wound mixed with the telltale flamboyant colours of poison. He had been on his way to warn her Majesty of the horrid entity that had breached their domain, but had not expected himself to be the target.
“Such is life,” Sombra remarked loudly. He winced in pain. “You serve faithfully in service to the crown, only to be struck down by an arrow to the chest.”
A moment of silence.
“Come now.” Sombra grinned, a chiding tone to his voice. “You killed the Empress’s pet. It's your big moment. Do you not want to revel in it?”
Notes. A byproduct of hooves on crystals. Sombra recognized the ensuing melody of a warped minor key. It served as a warning for the being to emerge from the shadows.
A skeleton of bone and sinewy muscle wearing armour crafted from raw arcane magic. A tall pointed hat, a beard made of stardust, and two eyes filled with the glittering shattered remains of stars. He had a bow of hewn bone levitated nearby, with a quiver of ghastly arrows strapped over a star-patterned cloak.
Morbidly, Sombra could also make out the light tinkling of bells from the internal confines of the lich’s cloak. It sounded like a funeral dirge.
“We are both aware that you will revive after a few days,” the lich intoned. Its voice was dull, devoid of emotion. “So long as the Empress lives, you will never fully die.”
A sharp bark of laughter. “That is indeed true, so celebrate while you can, as I will be sure to come after you as soon as I am able.”
The lich approached him.
“You wish to quicken my death?” Sombra asked.
Closer. The bells were louder. Sombra felt unease at their sound.
“You don’t need to,” Sombra said. He tried to keep the quiver out of his voice. This lich unnerved him, despite the safety of his immortality. His wound throbbed. “It's honestly more painful, and I’d rather you didn’t.”
The lich stopped. He towered over him, his eyes boring down. There was no sound. Just the swirling of the night sky in the lich’s eyes.
“...What do you want?” Sombra said quietly.
“A unicorn will come here in the far future,” the lich answered.
“What does that have to do with me?”
“An annoyance will make me incapable of meeting her right away.” His eyes intensified. Sombra squinted at them. “However, I would like to leave her a… surprise. Something to give the peasant pause.”
“And what would that be?” Sombra asked.
“An inevitability of fate will cause you to turn on the Empress.” Sombra inhaled sharply. “I intend to speed the process up and make you a bigger threat to that pathetic mare. Two pegasi, one ballista as it were.”
“What are you—”
Pain. It was like a million knives being stabbed into his body. He could feel the lich’s magic crawling underneath his skin. Changing him.
Bones cracked. Skin peeled. Blood boiled.
As he became a monster of who he was, Sombra screamed. It was last of his equinity before he was drowned out by his own monstrous roar.
Before the founding of Equestria, and long before the sisters would come into being, horrific monsters roamed the land. They were known as the Corrupt Pillars, abominations that gripped the world in terror.
A pair of clay-like monsters of sharp teeth that stole the faces of others and ravaged the Pegasi on behalf of their terrible master.
A healer who embraced the whispers of eternal sleep and spread their message across the land to all those who dared listen, willing or not.
A leader of the undead, wielding the staff of Hades and with the wings of Death, who sought out a permanent home for her people at the expense of everyone she came across.
A tragic actress come playwright who told stories of horror throughout the land, her actors merely puppets strung up on strings.
A colossal titan that brought destruction wherever he went, advised by the Goddess who promised him victory at every turn.
A powerful lich, who became corrupted by the plague itself and assists the Corrupt Pillars from the shadows, sowing the seeds of terror amongst the people.
Gods watched in rapt attention as they mourned the loss of life, but were unable to intervene. Apollo had created an unending circus of amusement for himself, and he planned to continue this farce so long as he still found entertainment from the misery of the lesser mortals.
Away from the main stage, just before the full brunt of the Corrupt Pillars was unleashed upon the world, was a frail unicorn. Bruised, battered, and betrayed. He was on his last gasp of life and knew that death would soon take him.
But, he had a spark. A spark that may one day grow into a Star. A singular entity recognized it, and, taking a chance, decided to take him under her wing, to be the final hope against Apollo’s madness.
A Star to overcome the Sun.
And what better guide to cultivate a Star than the Moon herself?
