A Somber Tale
My name is Sombra. Once, I was a king. Once, I was a unicorn of enormous magical power. I was a ruler, a defender, a visionary. I was a hero.
Once, I was a father, a husband, a lover and a friend.
Now I am less than the shadow you cast.
I made choices. I made mistakes. I did what I thought was best, for myself and for those I ruled. Perhaps my choices were bad ones, but they seemed right and just at the time.
I don't know. I find it hard to see any other path, now. Perhaps it was simple destiny, and nothing I could do would have changed that.
You who hear these words, you may know me as a name out of ancient legend, a tale of darkness and madness and power run amok. I cannot say those legends are wrong, much though I might wish it. I cannot say they are right, either, though I have long since been judged and condemned.
Hear my words. Listen to my story, and take it for a warning. I never wished to become a monster.
I am Sombra, and this is my tale.
I was born in the Icelands, far to the north of fair Equestria, beyond the Crystal Mountains. My home was a village, a small community called simply Haven, nestled in the foothills. We of Haven were simple ponies, wishing only to wrest a living from the unforgiving tundra, and to leave our children a better life than we ourselves had inherited.
There were few unicorns in Haven. My father, who died before I earned my cutie mark, was a unicorn; my mother, an earth pony. Most of the ponies of Haven were earth ponies: good, hardy, hard-working folks, well-suited to endure the harsh weather. A few were of a different breed, with sparkling eyes and dazzling highlights in their coats. Crystal ponies, they were called, a subspecies of the earth ponies. They hailed from the Crystal Empire, which - despite its name - was a great and glorious city.
We had few pegasi in Haven. The north winds were savage and untamed, and pegasi had little luck controlling the weather so far north. Then too, they lacked the simple endurance of the earth ponies, the magical power of the unicorns, or the crystal ponies' inherent adaptation to the subarctic clime. I doubt there were more than a dozen pegasi in all of Haven.
Life in Haven was simple. We worked, wresting valuable crystals from the mountains. We grew what little food the short summer allowed. We fortified our town against the endless threats of the north, from blizzards to Ursas to Windigos. We grew, we shared, we loved, and we died.
I miss it so.
I grew to stallionhood, there in Haven. I earned my cutie mark. I raised walls with my neighbors; I braved blizzards to find lost foals, my horn an unquenchable light in the arctic night. I hauled lichen and moss for our winter stores. I chased away lean, gray timberwolves with flares of magic. I held my best friend as he died, savaged by their fangs.
I found love, took a wife, and watched her bear two little foals. Her name was Diamond Bright; theirs, Quartz and Glitter. She was a crystal pony who found something bright and shining in a dull, gray unicorn.
I remember her eyes. They were a sparkling blue, the color of the sky after a snowstorm, when all the world is washed clean, when the sun reflects a thousand points of diamond light off the snow, and the purity of the sky brings one to tears. I will never forget those eyes, though I cannot now tell you the color of her coat, or little Quartz's first words, or my best friend's name.
If I exist until the world's ending, I will never forget her eyes.
Life was not easy in Haven. We all did our part, supporting one another, sharing the bad times as well as the good. Rare was a year without a death, and births were celebrated. Ours was a small, tightly-knit community, with few secrets. What troubled one of us affected us all.
We were held together, not just by necessity, but by bonds of love and fellowship. Though Windigos haunted the wastes, they found little to feed on in Haven.
It was a bleak autumn when I left. A harvesting team had set out in search of moss and lichen, but an unexpected snowstorm was visible on the horizon. They had been gone for hours. There were no unicorns with them; we had expected a clear day. Somepony had to go after them, to guide them home.
I volunteered. I was young and strong, a veteran of the wastes, and even then my magic was powerful. I was not so foolish as to consider myself immortal - bitter irony - but I was confident. I kissed my wife and bade my foals farewell, and set off.
If we'd had more pegasi, perhaps things would have been different. The storm came rolling up, more swiftly than any had expected, turning pale afternoon into starless night. I pressed on, wrapped in my heavy cloak, keeping warm with magic. Abandoning the harvesting team would mean their deaths, and that I would not do. They were my friends, my neighbors.
I don't know how long I struggled through the winds, the snow whipping past me, the night black as my mane. I felt my magic ebbing, but I pressed on, sustained by my sense of camaraderie, by imagining the joy of those in Haven at my successful return.
I found them.
They had tried to contrive some shelter among the rocks. I don't know what happened - or if I do, I can't remember - but they did not survive. I think there must have been an accident: a slip, a fall, a broken leg.
None of them were unicorns, and an earth pony's toughness can only go so far. They were stiff and cold by the time I found them, huddled beneath their overturned wagon, the precious moss placed carefully to one side.
I knew despair.
I did not think I could make the return journey in the howling, slow-filled blackness. With no other choice, I spent the night beneath the upturned wagon, the corpses of my friends providing a windbreak, their last act of friendship. I broke off bits of the wagon and burned them to stave off frostbite, my magic doing what earth pony ingenuity had not. They must have forgotten their tinder boxes: a simple, stupid, foalish mistake.
The night was eternal, or so I thought. I know better, now.
Bleak morning came, and I dug free of the drifting snow and raised a flag to mark the ruin. We would not leave them for the gray timberwolves, and their precious foodstuff was still there. I started out for Haven once more, my heart heavy within me. Even leaving aside that they were my friends, with whom I had worked and played and fought and laughed and cried, the loss of three able stallions was a sore blow to our tiny town.
I remember little of the return journey. I was cold and heartsore and despondent, wishing only to return to my home, to share my pain and thus lessen it. I felt so very alone, and the thought of my dear wife and my little ones kept me going.
I remember the pain, but I can't really feel it any more. I suppose that is a mercy.
When I came in sight of Haven, I knew instantly that something was wrong. The shape of the town was . . . changed. Forgetting my troubles, I galloped for home, hoping desperately that I was mistaken.
I was not.
Haven was destroyed.
The gates, raised with so much labor, were broken. The small homes, built with fellowship and hope, were shattered. The great hall, the work of many willing hooves, the symbol of our unity, was collapsed.
There were bodies everywhere.
I don't know what happened to Haven. It might have been an Ursa, wandering before the storm; one of the mighty star-bears of the north against which nothing mortal can stand. It might have been any of a hundred unknown terrors, for life on the edge of the world was fraught with peril. It doesn't matter what destroyed Haven, what destroyed so many lives, so many hopes and dreams. It had come and gone like the storm itself, unstoppable and impersonal, leaving nothing in its wake.
I wandered the streets in a daze, finding familiar places wrecked and gone, calling familiar names into the bitter silence. There was nopony left. I searched for hours, maybe days, but none had survived.
None.
I was alone.
It was then that I first realized the weakness of love, of unity, of mortal hope and courage.
It was then that I felt true hatred, bitter and strong.
It was then that Sombra the unicorn, Sombra the loving father, Sombra the gentle husband, Sombra the loyal friend and trustworthy neighbor, died. I buried him that day as surely as ever I buried his wife, she of the beautiful eyes; and his brave son and gentle daughter, whose voices I cannot now even recall.
I buried them, as I could not bury Haven.
I left my home, never to return.
I do not know how long I wandered, or what kept me alive. Certainly it was not hope; all hope had died with those I loved. Perhaps it was grim perseverance, defiance of the dispassionate North that had taken the lives of all I knew. Perhaps it was merely a quirk of fate that allowed me to live when so many others had died. I do not know. It does not matter.
I made my way to the Crystal Empire, my wife's homeland. It lay to the south and east of Haven: a mighty city inhabited by thousands of ponies, their fields green, their rivers gentle. A towering palace at the center watched over the land, inhabited - so I had heard - by a benevolent Queen and her King. Grace and Feldspar, the Crystal Queen and the Crystal King, alicorns of an ancient line. They claimed kinship with Celestia and Luna, the immortal rulers of Equestria to the south.
I reached the Empire and found there some measure of comfort and peace. The crystal ponies took me in, accepted me at once as one of their own. I stayed with some distant kin of my dear wife, who called me "brother" and wept over my loss, and told me I was welcome in their home for as long as I chose to remain.
I recovered slowly. Physically, I was not hurt - cold and exhausted, worn to the bone from my travels, but I was young and strong, and flesh recovers quickly. My wounds of spirit were far worse. It was long before I could acknowledge joy again, before I could see foals playing and not resent them; before I could meet a blue-eyed mare without averting my gaze.
Joy and love had failed me. Hope and fellowship had lead me to agony and despair. I was an empty pony for a time.
Grace and Feldspar, the rulers of the Empire, found out about me - how, I do not know, for I was only one small refugee in their vast city. They offered me work. They had, so they said, few unicorns in the city, and knew little of unicorn magic. Would I accept a post serving them, employing my magic to help the Crystal Empire?
Of course I said yes. Bitter though I had become, I had no wish to become a useless parasite, and if my knowledge could help others - kin of my dear Diamond Bright - then there was no question of it.
I entered the service of the Crystal King and Queen, living in the palace, reading through bright new new books and crumbling scrolls. Many had lain untouched for years, as they concerned unicorn magic and mattered little to an empire of crystal ponies. I spoke with those few unicorns who dwelt within the city, comparing notes and learning what I could. I advised their Majesties on matters magical, explaining what unicorn magic could and could not accomplish, what was better done with heart and hoof, and when a unicorn could do in a matter of minutes what might take another pony days. I researched new spells; I taught a few students; I did what I could to support the Empire.
My Empire. It had taken me in when I had nothing, and given me a home again. Though my heart might never heal, I could still feel gratitude and responsibility. As I regained my interest in life, in other ponies, I grew to take my role very seriously. I had seen death and ruin, and I did not wish it on my new friends.
I vowed to make my Empire safe, however I could.
The crystal ponies, I learned, had a magic of their own. It was not active, as is unicorn magic, but neither was it as the passive, weathercrafting powers of pegasi, or the subtler manifestations of earth ponies. It was, in some strange way, linked with the massive crystals that permeated the land, that ringed the city and were sculpted into its very buildings. I studied this magic intensely, but it proved frustratingly enigmatic.
It seemed that the magic of the crystal ponies was a magic of unity, of togetherness. Their strength of community spirit had a tangible effect on their - our - Empire, causing the crops to grow more richly, reducing sickness and accident, and even warding off dangers of the North. I was even told that the Empire's unity was reflected across all of Equestria, and so long as it stood as a beacon of love and friendship, all the lands would follow it.
I distrusted it immediately. Not that I suspected treachery - Feldspar and Grace had always dealt openly and honestly with me, and their subjects no less. No, I suspected the magic itself was flawed. Unity and fellowship had failed to save Haven; my home had been wiped off the face of the world in a single night, victim of random, unpredictable, dispassionate chance. How could such a power be trusted with the safety of an entire Empire, thousands of innocents? Worse yet, an Empire whose fate was reflected all across Equestria?
To my mind, it was mere negligence to rely on such an untrustworthy power.
Their Majesties dismissed my concerns with due courtesy. So it had always been in the Empire, they told me, and the strength of unity was greater than I imagined. They told me of the Crystal Heart, an artifact of vast power. It acted as a lens, focusing the general fellowship of the crystal ponies into a force that kept their borders safe. And, while I did not agree, I allowed myself to be persuaded.
I researched other methods by which the Empire might be safeguarded. I trained with the Crystal Guard, mastering the arts of war, jousting with the knights. I studied the crystals of the land itself, grinding them to powder, examining them with magical devices, and drawing forth their secrets. I read scrolls so ancient I had to first learn languages spoken by no living thing upon the earth.
There were, I discovered, many kinds of power.
Unicorn magic is closely tied to emotions. Every foal learns this. When one feels strongly, one's magic is stronger; when one is uncertain or unsure, ones magic is weaker. Love and joy and the like are undeniably sources of magical power.
But there are others.
Anger is a kind of power. I learned, one night, in a bout of frustration, that anger can power unicorn magic as well as hope and joy.
As can hatred, and fear.
I delved into my research with a new fervor, eager to master this mighty weapon. I studied the magic of hatred, the sorcery of terror, and the unknown power of raw, bestial rage. After all, these emotions are as natural and as right as joy and love. A stallion defending his mare is given strength through rage. A mother burns with hatred for that which would harm her child. Fear gives wings to an earth pony's hooves, allowing him to escape and survive.
I studied. I practiced. I mastered this new power, this "dark" magic spawned from fury and fear. I withdrew from my associates, those I might have called friends, to delve ever deeper. And when I felt I was ready, I presented my findings to King Feldspar and Queen Grace.
In retrospect, their reaction should have been predictable.
They were horrified. They condemned what I had found, and ordered me never to use such powers again, to burn my papers and destroy my research.
I was shocked, for I had assumed they would see this as another defense for their Empire. Could they not understand that our goals were one and the same? That I wished to protect the Empire as strongly as they?
Queen Grace spoke on my behalf, raising the subject of my grief, suggesting that perhaps I did not know their customs as well as I thought. Because of her, I was allowed to retain my position. In my shock I did not argue; I simply agreed with what I was told, still disbelieving. And so, before an audience of stern-eyed guards, the labor of many weeks was consumed by fire.
I had learned rage and hatred. That day taught me frustration.
But I was not finished.
One thing the Icelands had taught: you only keep what you guard. I had made copies of my research, secreted away in my personal quarters. I had made them by reflex, never dreaming that my own King and Queen would force my hoof.
As books more ancient than the Empire itself withered in flame, as priceless knowledge was lost to foolishness, I made a new vow. I would protect the Empire, the crystal ponies, and if I could not do it with the cooperation of their rulers, I would do it in their despite.
I would protect the Crystal Empire.
No matter what the cost.
I laid my plans in secret. I had studied the magical crystals, and the dark powers of hatred, and found a way in which they could be joined. I brewed potions involving ground crystals, drinking them to infuse my own body with their power, becoming a sort of artificial crystal unicorn. I wandered, seeding the grounds of the city with powders, reciting chants in dead tongues, preparing.
I took no joy in what I had chosen to do, but I felt it was necessary. Their Majesties, well-meaning though they were, were willfully blind. Their foolishness left the Empire - my home - vulnerable. The fabled power of the Crystal Heart could not stand up to an Ursa, or one of the killer ice storms, any of the nameless terrors of the North. Love, friendship, unity - these were weak. These were flawed. Unity could be broken. Love could turn to pain.
Hatred, fear and rage . . . these things endured.
These things were powerful.
I would use rage to protect love, fear and hatred so that unity could prosper. Grace and Feldspar were mistaken. What I was doing was not wrong or unnatural. This was natural. This was how we were made, the rage of a parent to protect a child, hatred for an enemy who would end our love.
I would be father to the crystal ponies.
I would protect them, whatever the cost.
I confronted King Feldspar six months later. I caught him in the evening on his way from his study to the royal bedchambers. He was tired, but he made time for his loyal advisor, Sombra.
I explained how it was: that I placed no faith in the gentler emotions, that only strength and brutal discipline would safeguard the empire. The magics he had forbidden, I had mastered, and I would show him what I had learned. If he would only listen, then together we could make the Empire greater than ever.
He lashed out in fear, calling me traitor and oath-breaker.
My rage was mightier than his. Mine was a honed, disciplined thing, a weapon. His self-righteousness broke on the shield of my hatred, hatred for his blindness, his weakness. Because of his obliviousness, he would endanger countless innocent lives. I could not accept that.
I destroyed him. I broke my oath of service, and turned my magic upon my King. I betrayed the one who had taken me in, given me a home and a place of pride. I cut him down without mercy.
Was I wrong to do this? I truly cannot say. At the time I felt nothing but righteous fury, contempt for his weakness and a desire to protect those whom he would not. Is an oath to a ruler more binding than the duty of all ponies to protect their fellows?
I do not know. What I did, I did, and it cannot be undone.
I went to Queen Grace next. I expected no better response, but some last trace of loyalty compelled me to make her my offer. She refused, as I expected she would.
Her fury was greater than Feldspar's. She was fighting her husband's slayer, and she knew it. Her power was great, but she lacked discipline, the hard-won knowledge and skill to use her emotions like a spear. Her fury struck me like a storm, but mine pierced her heart, and her love and unity were no defense.
I left her there and went forth to claim my Empire.
I took the Crystal Heart that night, knowing the stubbornness of the crystal ponies, knowing that they would resist the new order so long as a spark of hope remained. None did: hope was flawed and weak, and only hatred could protect us. The Heart I did not destroy; instead, I hid it within the palace - my palace - behind doors of fear and veils of illusion. It was an item of great power; perhaps I could unlock its secrets one day, bend it to my will. Perhaps I could use it to channel the stronger powers of rage and hatred, as it currently channeled love and fellowship.
That night I worked mighty magics. Calling upon the hatred and fear, the rage and frustration, and my own iron will, I changed the nature of the crystals that warded my city. They grew black as hatred, strong as rage, with razor points to guard and protect. The palace changed as well, the crystals infused with my own dark magic. I found it fitting, for a new era had dawned. We would no longer place our faith in frail fellowship or ephemeral love, but in something far older.
The crystal ponies resisted, as I had known they would. They decried me as a black tyrant, a murderer and worse. They sought to storm the palace, to take me by force, to hurl me from the walls and end my reign before it could begin.
I faced them down.
I fought knights whom I had called friend and brother, and slew them with hatred. I tore apart companions for whom I would once have gladly given my life. I took the collective wrath and terror of the crystal ponies and channeled it, as only I knew how, channeled it into the crystals of my Empire.
I would protect them even from themselves. If some had to die that the rest would be safe, this was unfortunate, but such was the way of the world. The survivors might hate me, might curse my name, but they would live.
With my power secure, I set about studying once more, researching ways to employ the dark magic I had mastered. I reinforced my hold on the Empire, extending my senses through it, binding it to my will. My powers increased until I might, I thought, even challenge the Sisters of Equestria.
But I still knew fear and caution. The Sisters were a power almost as old as my own, and they had endured for countless centuries. They had struck down the tyrant Discord, a being as far beyond me as a pony is beyond a mayfly. Equestria I would leave alone, but I would prepare for the coming of bright Celestia and dark Luna. They would not catch me unguarded.
The crystal ponies proved stubborn, as their earth pony heritage might have suggested, fomenting rebellion and defying my rule. I was forced to make examples of the most outspoken, and many found their way in chains to the crystal mines. If they would not serve me freely, they would serve me as slaves: thus the Empire would yet be protected. Their wrath and frustration only amplified my powers, and thus continued to shield the Empire.
My Empire would endure.
Whatever the cost.
A short while into my reign, with my subjects cowed and lusterless, an Ursa Major came against us.
The Ursas are rare, more akin to forces of nature than living beings. Though they lack the fire and cunning minds of dragons, they are mighty, elemental beasts of strength and rage. A cub, an Ursa Minor, could easily devastate a town, and few are the mortal ponies who can stand against it. Against a fully grown adult Ursa Major, only an alicorn might stand a chance.
Its presence endangered my Empire.
I went forth to meet it.
Those few crystal ponies who served me willingly - cowardly sycophants all - advised against it, saying that I must remain in the palace. I must remain where it was safe, where I could defend the Empire. I let them quibble, drawing on their terror - of me, of the Ursa, and of the loss of their comfortable positions should I fall. They were caught in a net of fear, which made them a rich source of power.
I took with me a dozen prisoners, those who had not yet broken: defiant, angry, eager to see the tyrant Sombra laid low. I brought them in chains, forced them to drag my crystal chariot, and thus stoke their fury to its peak. They would serve the Empire even now. If they could not see my goal, if they persisted in fighting me instead of defending their fellows, then I would use them regardless.
I met the Ursa Major on the windswept plain north of the city, where frozen tundra gives way to eternal ice. It was an old one, a male, with yellow tusks and hoary violet fur, the glow of its constellations dim with age. It was blind in one eye.
It was moving toward my city.
My city.
I struck it. I do not remember the details of the battle, only roars like thunder, and the crash and clatter of claws longer than my body. I lashed out with the black fire of hatred, drawing on the rage of my crystal slaves and the power of my crystals. I remember screaming with rage like a beast myself, a halo of violet mist about me.
I won.
I, a mortal unicorn, did the impossible. I struck down an Ursa Major with the power of hatred.
I protected my Empire.
I do not remember how long I reigned, but it must have been years. The concept of time means little to me now; there is only an anguished past, a bleak and empty future, and an unendurable present. Days, seasons, years . . . they fade together, meaningless.
I continued to strengthen my power, my hold on the Empire. My crystal slaves continued to defy me, although their defiance was ultimately futile; in the face of their own uselessness, they lost all heart and succumbed to despair.
Despair was defeat. Despair was failure. Despair was useless to me.
I was forced to rekindle their emotions, their rage and their terror. I reminded them that they hated me, and their hatred strengthened my defenses. I did things I once would have considered atrocities, but I felt they were justified.
The Empire would endure.
The Empire must endure.
I would save the Empire, no matter the cost, no matter the threat.
I knew, from my studies, that the Sisters of the South must inevitably come against me. Their power was founded on the concept of Harmony, of gentler emotions and softer feelings. My power, hatred and rage, could not but be seen as a threat. They could not let my Empire stand.
I laid my plans.
I sent tendrils of dark magic threading through the Empire, through the crystals that were its bones. I worked the shape of the city itself into a mighty spell, with my palace at its heart. The Crystal Heart I hid, laying traps and countermeasures about it, so that even if I was somehow cast out, it would remain safe. I bound the Empire to me, heart and soul. I was its protector, despite my subjects' fears, and nothing would harm them unless I allowed it.
And then, they came.
The Sisters. Bright Celestia, burning like the dawn; dark Luna, cold and merciless as winter night. The alicorns, they who toppled the tyrant Discord. They came against me, wielding their awesome power, backed by the might of a nation.
I, a mortal unicorn, defied them. I threw my hatred in their teeth and broke their power.
They came again, and this time they were the mightier. Their power was old and strong, and they knew something of the magic of hatred. Either one alone I might have bested, but the Sisters fought in tandem, like one mind in two bodies, their powers complementing each other perfectly.
They broke me. They tore through my defenses, shattering my power like ice and turning my rage back upon me. I knew fear again: not as a source of power, but as a chilling weakness, a sure knowledge of defeat and failure and death.
But I was ready.
As Celestia's fire tore through my shields, as Luna's moonlight pierced me, I reached out to my Empire and gathered it in. I was the Empire's protector; I was the Empire, and I would not leave it naked to these interlopers!
I felt my body crumble to nothing, a shadow held together with pure will.
As the Sisters bent their power upon me, casting me into the endless dark and bitter cold of the arctic ice, I drew my Empire in after me. I pulled it out of time, out of reality, to a non-place where none could find or harm it. I spent all my power, for that was its purpose: protecting my subjects.
I was King Sombra, ruler, defender, lord of crystals. Though my prison closed about me, bereft of my body, apart from my subjects, I would endure. I was alone, terribly alone, unable to walk free or even to die, with nothing but the raw and bitter magic of hatred to sustain me.
I endure.
I will endure, if it takes an age and an age, until the sun burns out and the oceans freeze, and even the Sisters have passed out of memory's memory, and nothing in all the world remains of what once was save myself and my Empire.
I will defend my Empire.
Whatever the cost.
Whatever the cost.