The Yaks were always considered the far off kinda friendly neighbors of the Crystal Empire even if they almost never spoke. All the more surprising when a familiar pony leads them charging into the Empire along with the Griffons.
Sombra had returned, but this time he was choosing his plans carefully. He knew about those pesky seven. He knew there would definitely be some trouble if he didn’t enact everything perfectly. He raised an army of warriors fiercer than any pony ever could be and used them to enslave even more creatures one by one slowly.
Then he turned his sights on the Empire, his Empire. And his future favorite prisoner Princess Cadance. King Sombra did not expect the man-turned horror his dark magic would attract.
Content Warnings: Violence because of depicted war. Heavy gore. Suicide / Self Harm because self harm does occur in the story, not as focus of depression, and no suicide is present in the story though it is discussed.
In the raging and blinding snow, no pony could make Sombra out. He loved the spotlight, but he knew this concealing of himself was necessary. If he revealed himself directly, those seven elements would blast him away before he even began a real reign of terror. This time would be different.
This time he would succeed with his army of Yaks and Griffons all hidden by the snow, armored and helmeted with enslaving magic and black crystal armaments.
King Sombra raised his hoof and pointed it forth while his horn crackled with deathly magic. A sphere encased the Crystal Empire, allowing only his own troops to enter en masse before he sealed that even.
And he cackled away in the snowstorm, knowing his Empire would soon be his.
“Mmmmm, sweet smell, exquisite taste,” human eyes peered past the cross eye slits of a helmet, looking at the black shield above him, “I would love to meet whoever casts such magic. Another Knight maybe?”
He stood in his full charred black armor, tall and proud with nobody around to see him. He was drawn out of the blood frontline from his rotation, teleported and drawn from his unholy connection to forbidden magics. Mittle looked to his arms, seeing the cuts in his skin right in the gaps between plates. Sweet red still oozed from his self-inflicted wounds with purpose.
After Mittle finished peering up to the whited out sky for such a long time, he looked down to the sounds of battle across the streets of this city made of gemstones. It was another war, a common place for dark magics, but this was not the one he was supposed to be fighting. Not the one he was ordered to either. Mittle turned away from the balcony railing of the giant tower he was on, intent on heading inside for a bit of exploration.
Once he had survived his Vehement trial, he didn’t care much to think for himself. He’d gladly fight so he didn’t remember all those horrors he had seen, real or imagined. He’d gladly take an order and carry it out so it was a singular focus for his troubled mind.
“Somepony! Please!” A pink equine from myths and fairytales jumped past the balcony doors and dodged behind him, “please, do something!”
His spine chilled, something unnatural heard this plea for help across space, constructs of time, and worlds. An opportunity.
And it was no surprise that he followed the request of the first creature that asked him.
Yaks poured to the door and with a simple twinge of his ivory sword, Mittle’s blood twisted around the blade in helices. A loud boom reverberated out as all the creatures before him were blasted back with gaping wounds from lightning, red as his own life essence.
“Please, get to Canterlot, get me and anypony you can out of here!” The equine ordered more than asked of him.
“Who...what are you?” He turned back, the immediate threat having been dealt with. Self-preservation was still built into himself, though he preferred to spend every waking moment trying to outrun the nightmares that were burned into his head.
“Princess Cadance, alicorn, now please hurry!” She pushed him into the palace, “I’ll tell you where to go.”
He nodded, hefting his blood traced white blade into both his hands while he dripped red down his armor. Mittle focused solely on the task he was just given by someone who resembled authority. This was the only drawback of gaining this unholy power, they’d do anything to take their mind away from the images they’d seen. Soak fields in red, carry out orders faithlessly, dedicate to one sole idea or person blindly. It was a closely guarded secret of his order.
Mittle lead with Cadence behind him, she’d direct him down what staircase, which hallway, through what door, and eventually the two of them made it out. Mittle had left many bodies of yaks and griffons alike, missing limbs, heads, and split apart at different angles. The streets of the Crystal Empire was a scene of opposite forces displayed over the ground in the same manner. Though, many more ponies were wearing the helmets the yaks and griffons were. Many more bodies were in one piece than the sharpened unnatural ivory in Mittle’s hand left them.
“That way! The train station! Quickly!” Cadance pointed her hoof to Mittle’s left.
Mittle could see the princess fly out above him, leading him as she soared quickly in the open air. He clanged along in his armor, running after through the chaos. Not a single enemy was paying him any attention and they all instead focused on Cadance.
“Agghh, ahhh!” Cadance screamed as an arrow pierced one of her wings, tumbling through the air with a screech. All of the helmet wearing savages enclosed toward her position.
Don’t fail or The Room for another week.
Mittle gripped his sword with both hands, slaughtering his way through. There was a very grotesque reason why his order wore such complete and concealing armor. A second reason for its color. A black tendril shot from his arm, impaling multiple bodies as it fought almost to Cadance.
Crack
A boom cut through the violence, red lightning ripped through the entire horde around the princess. The blue gemstone pathway quickly shifted to a disturbing red. Mittle wasted no time, the tendril retracting into his arm, and made his way to Cadance. He scooped her up in his left arm, covering her in his own blood that spewed much more freely after his gamble. Mittle lugged her along on his shoulder, stopping to block this blade and slash that chest.
Since he’d already unleashed a Hell, he used the red lightning that crackled along his ivory sword freely. The train station was incredibly easy to reach. Princess Cadance started it herself and the train chugged along quickly. The two were sped away from danger.
“We...we couldn’t save anypony,” Cadance sat in one of the booths dejected, “how can we do that?” She looked up to him.
Failed. Vehement soon.
Cadance couldn’t see past his helmet, but just from the tiniest tilt towards the floor she knew something clicked in him at her words. Being a ruler meant she had grown quite the empathic ability, she could see his despondent eyes despite the cross slits hiding them.
“Hey, it’s not your fault. You got me out and we don’t know if there was saving anypony with how bad it had gotten so quick,” she lifted his helmet and he didn’t stop her. It clattered to the ground once she lost concentration of her levitation spell, “o..oh,” a gasp left her lips, “are you injured?” Her eyes looked down from his face to the blood of his that pooled on the train floor.
His face could almost be considered blasphemized. The fading outline of an unknown sigil dispersed from his face, capillaries and veins were still engorged almost unhealthily. Mittle had seen what the worst of his order could look like. He took a little comfort in knowing he didn’t look like the best warrior they had.
“No,” Mittle responded and let a silence pass, “yes,” he corrected himself and slid his gauntlets off to show the blood dripping away. It had only slowed a little since he cleared away the mob that almost descended on Cadance.
Mittle reached into his chestplate and pulled many scrunched up bandages out. He binded his wounds just as good as any other sawbones could. This was a practice that his whole order were professionals in, they had to be if they wanted to live to the next fight. Sometimes they’d choose not to and just bleed out as a way of escaping the horrors they heard and saw for their power. Mittle’s mind was still freshly concentrated on those images, on the impending Vehement.
“Who are you?” Cadance finally looked back up to him, seeing a bit more of a normal face, “and how did you do all that to save me?”
“I am Mittle of the Blood Thunder Knights,” he recited his name and his order, “I...will not say how I became who I am now,” his mind shuddered at the faces, the shapes, and the sizzles the barraged his mind upon a thin wall of sanity.
Princess Cadance nodded, “I see. Thank you for rescuing me. I don’t know how you got there at just the right time, but I’m grateful. Is it okay if you come with me to inform Princess Celestia and Princess Luna of Sombra’s invasion?”
“Yes,” Mittle nodded without hesitation, “I’ll guard and accompany you,” another order meant another task to focus on, the more the better, “where?”
“Canterlot...are you even from Equestria?” He shook his head while he finished binding his wounds, “then, what are you?” Cadance questioned him. She already knew he was trustworthy, but knowing anything about him would help build that further.
“A human. I’m not from anywhere around here,” Mittle kept himself brief. Cadance didn’t quite like that herself, she knew his name and affliation, but nothing actually concrete about him. He didn’t even know if what he said was entirely true, but it was true enough to say.
Mittle not wanting to say how he performed the magic he did left him just as mysterious.
“If you’re wondering, I will protect you. I need to.”
Cadance shook her head, snapping out from the images of fleeing the Empire, “wha-what? You felt the need to say that?”
“You lost your land, your kingdom. I lost my ruler, my superiors, and my orders,” Mittle slowly bent down and grasped his helmet, “I need something to hold onto,” he almost mumbled his last words while he slotted the helmet on. Mittle finally took a seat in the booth next to her. His arms had stopped painting the floor of the train car.
Cadance knew these words, this kind of a lost soul. This is someone who’s only known fear and keeps looking forward afraid to look back. Was Mittle even cared for? Was Mittle even aware there were other pursuits besides his career? Her head bubbled around with questions.
“Mittle, you should sleep until we arrive,” she tried to offer him a simple kindness.
His bloodied fingers were already tangling through her feathers until he found the arrow, seeing that it had made a clean entry and exit. With no hesitation he yanked the arrow out, causing minmal extra damage to Cadance’s wing.
“Ahhh, ah...ow ow,” Cadance exasperated out pain through her clenched teeth, “a little warning next time, please.”
He paid her no mind, his hand was already pulling bandages from his chestplate. Mittle bound around the wing, the arrow was close to bone, but it didn’t hit it thankfully. It was possible that it deflected over and fractured, but that’d be healed by the time the flesh mended back together. Mittle was gentle at binding, though it was tight, and he then proveeded to bind the entire wing against her side, looping around her midsection and under her other wing. He wanted it secured in place just in case there was some bone bits that needed to fuse back together.
“No flying,” he whispered out while he withdrew his hands, holding the arrow in front of her eyes so she could see the broadhead.
“You’re...a good medic,” Cadance commented, “but you don’t have painkillers on you, huh?” A small little smile curved into the corners of her lips.
Mittle shook his head and stood back up, taking a seat across from her and looking over his alabaster blade. The tangles of his blood had long since dripped and fallen away. The magical blade was still just as strong as ever. All the knights of his order knew it was some kind of ivory material, made of some kind of tusk, but not what animal. The bone was always there after their first Vehement. The owner could choose the style of hilt for their weapon and there were always holes for metal to be molded in properly as well.
Like the horrors themselves expected some kind of agreement with them, their sanities.
“It’s pretty,” Cadance interrupted his thoughts.
“It’s horrid.”
“It looks like it’s made of ivory like a tusk. It must have been expensive, why fight with it?”
Mittle didn’t mind opening up about this, “I don’t know what animal tusk it is made from. It’s magical, it stays sharpened all on its own and it never breaks,” his voice was soft, but echoed within his helmet, “it attunes to blood easy, too.”
Cadance pondered that, attune to blood. It was evident from how his blood twisted around the sword earlier that this was true, “why, Mittle?” And she asked the burning question.
The rest of the train ride went quietly, even after Mittle rose from the booth across her and stood next to her. He gripped his sword tightly and began a hypervigilance to guard and protect her from everything else on the empty train. Anything to keep the abominations away.
“No...dark magic like mine? How is it possible? Who aids Cadance?” Sombra mumbled while he trotted into his reclaimed Empire.
He would send scouts, he would gain intelligence over him, and he would wear its hide as a new cloak for himself.
“Nopony gets to copy me.”
They arrived in Canterlot fine enough until Mittle stepped out of the train in bloodied armor with bandaged Cadance next to him. He gripped his sword at the mumurs and whisperings of all the ponies around, ready to defend the one who asked him.
Mittle was not privileged enough to ever be assigned time to guard someone. Those designations were reserved for the Blood Thunder Knights who had been in the Order for years with very frayed sanities left.
Cadance galloped down the street with Mittle quickly sprinting behind her to keep up. The two of them headed toward the castle and were enclosed in blue and yellow magic. The two of them were flashed and teleported into the white marble throne room of Canterlot. Stained glass bled light of all diferent colors in to just better illuminate the reason of their arrival.
“Cadance, who is this?” Luna directed to Mittle who kept close the the Princess of Love, sword in both hands.
“Mittle, he helped me escape from the Crystal Empire. Au-.”
“Escape? Cadance, what has happened?” Celestia came off the throne pedestal along with Luna, “I see you’ve sacrificed much to get our Cadance here,” Celestia directed at him.
“But your duty is done, you may leave,” Luna affirmed with a harsher tone, he didn’t argue but turned around and walked back the way he came. This was no longer his mission, task accomplished.
Mittle felt a pang of fear in his chest. He wasn’t hurt personally by them, but when a Blood Thunder Knight had no duties or orders to carry out they often became problematic. Their issues ranged from self-inflicted wounds to torture of all kinds, they always ended in homicides. Nobody could make sense of their conlusions other than a want to sate the curiousity of the images they were shown.
If Mittle wasn’t needed here, then he’d go back to the Empire himself and pick a fight to be useful and placate the abominations away. Or he could seek them out again and try to gain more strength or understanding to ease the things he had seen. He could make his own silent room to live another Vehement out, far away from-.
“No,” Cadance spoke up, “Mittle’s under my rule, he listens to my orders alone. Mittle, you are to stay by my side and ensure my safety. He appeared in my Empire.”
That’s all it took for him to turn back around once more and take to her side in vigilance. It didn’t matter that there was no danger here, it mattered that he could focus on something besides the constant images flowing through his head.
“Why are you so firm as to keep him around? He owes you no allegiance,” Luna questioned, staring into his helmet and seeing his tiny pupils, “he’s disturbed, sister. Dangerous and unpredictable.”
Celestia rose her eyes up, but in that one second of eye contact she saw more than she wished to. She was even foolish enough to let down her firm mental guard and she caught a glimpse of one horrific scene of fire, Canterlot, a black sun, and a mass of eyes above this castle. Mittle had no intention of passing this scene he saw himself to her, but this was the wish of these abominable bestowers of his gifts.
“Mittle saved me. He bandaged my wing, fought against Sombra’s forces, and got me out of the Empire safely.”
“Sombra?!” Luna lowered her head to meet Cadance’s eyes, “Sombra took the Empire?!” Cadance nodded her head.
“We must gather our own forces and retake it. I’ll notify Twilight,” Celestia announced, her horn lighting and a paper on the throne room pedestal vanished in green flame, “does he sit on the Empire’s throne?”
“I do not know, I never saw him attack personally,” Cadance answered.
Mittle opened his mouth, his voice echoed within his helmet softly, “attacked with legions of creatures and weaponry. Ponies were no match, those that didn’t die were forced into enslavement and mind control. Your army will fall victim and grow his numbers,” Mittle gasped as another image plagued his mind, but this one was of a pair of red eyes and green wisps of black magic.
Out out out out out out....out out...
Mittle mumbled as he held his head with a voice that wasn’t his, he could fell an entity press on the walls of his mind. This was not one of the usual horrors, something knew his abilities and prodded at his mind with that connection.
“What ails him?” Luna pointed to Mittle, addressing Cadance. Mittle had leaned over, gripping the sides of his helmet. He tried with all his might to force it away.
“He’s scarred by something, something that gives him his powers,” Cadance looked to him hile Luna and Celestia refused to even glance at his mental lapse.
“Vehement, I need to Vehement,” Mittle spoke louder, “I need a dark room, no sound, no light, nothing. Give me bucket, give me water, no food. One week in there,” he hoarsely managed out in a quickened tongue.
“Is that a ritual he is describing?” Luna was braver than her sister to address Mittle as he clutched his head.
Mittle’s armor rippled unnaturally, as if his very body bloated from his core and then extended with extra fluids to his limbs and then extremities. His plate armor had made a motion very similar to a heart. Sombra was then gone from his mind as tiny droplets of blood left the gaps of plate metal. His crimson stained the marble floor in just a few splotches before his blood clotted again.
“Cadance, I trust your judgement, but be wary of him. He seems unstable,” Cadance could tell that Luna was lying, she didn’t trust her or him at all. Luna knew she wouldn’t win an arguement to banish him away though, better to keep an enemy under surveilance.
Blood Thunder Knights were very accustomed to be talked about in this manner. Nobody wanted to acknowledge them as a person in the room.
“If he must do some kind of ritual during his stay, he can make use of the dungeons,” Celestia answered, her eyes afixed to the ground, “to appease the things that have touched him...I’ll allow it,” Luna looked to her sister in shock.
Cadance nudged her head to Mittle’s side, “I’m going to take my normal room when I visit. I want Mittle to take the one next to it,” she trotted away.
“Well, we suppose there is nothing more to be discussed until we get an army gathered and Twilight arrives,” Luna commented and began whispering to her sister.
Mittle, per the earlier orders, kept close to Cadance the entire way to her the suite she called a room. He had pressed bad hard enough to win a more mental fortitude.
“Were you going to head back to the Empire?” Cadance spoke as soon as the door shut. Mittle nodded to her question, “you’d have ended up dead. What is even in your mind?”
“The dungeon, I can help retake your Empire, but I need to use the dungeon,” Mittle spoke, “Blood Thunder Order practices are not secret...”
“Then why not tell me why you are this...distraught all the time?” Cadance began to pace back and forth while Mittle kept silent.
His mind willingly turned to the scenes he was shown, to gods of other worlds, to creatures hidden beyond a veil called sanity. During the Vehement, it was expected that sanity would be momentarily upheaved and the horrors would come in and leave their gifts. The Blood Thunder Knights only had one recorded instance when sanity was broken on a battlefield. The written text was constantly dripping with blood that never stopped flowing, black liquid from those who committed the harrowing sight. Past the void of blood, the first sentence was the only legible record. If you tried to talk to the older Knights of the Order who saw it, they’d immediately start thrashing to dig into their own skin with their nails, teeth, and whatever else they could use.
The Knight who lifted the curtain then lived as an almost lifeless husk of himself. Bound and locked away, force fed with tubes. Those who entered his chamber to care for him were always deaf by birth, selectively chosen for it.
“Princess Cadance, those in our order who have lived long and seen many become maimed in their minds. They live almost completely paralyzed with ability over their functions,” Mittle finally broke the silence, “there is one thing I can share,” he was forcing himself to speak all these words, talking sometimes helped, but having another who understood the things he did helped more.
And he was far away from any brothers or sisters of his order.
Cadance stopped pacing, coming back to stand in front of him while his fingers fidget under his chestplate. The thick black metal began to come off, “you don’t have to show me, Mittle,” Cadance tried to dissuade him.
These things were not purposefully kept secrets. In fact, if you asked about their practices; you’d be given free information. Any question would be answered. The reality was nobody wanted to inquire about their order, nobody wanted to see or hear it. The Knights respected that and actively hid sounds and sights to not burden others with grisly sights.
He pulled the black metal off to show the bare skin underneath with a sigil that warped and bended. It curved and zagged in ways incomprehensible. This line was too long, that one was too short, this one was moving, and here this curved line twisted and oscillated horribly. The black sigil winded around his flesh, also moving it, and proving that no known laws of geometry or physics applied to it.
Cadance’s eyes widened as she studied it for just a couple of second before backing away from Mittle and looking to the floor. She could only guess what kinds of things Celestia saw when she made eye contact with him. If seeing this physical manifestation was this disturbing, what kind of things was Mittle seeing?
“You can put your breastplate back on,” Cadance whispered and Mittle complied, his mind just a little more calm.
He fiddled with the locks and straps and fit the piece back on, “Princess Cadance,” Mittle reached his gauntleted hand out and laid it on her neck, “thank you. I need to go to the dungeon for a week and then I will help you retake your Empire. I will keep you safe.”
She looked to his hand and then to him, locking her eyes to his and nodding. She felt something tap on her mental willpower, but it left as soon as it came. Cadance smiled wide to him and nudged Mittle to leave the room with her to get him prepared for this ritual of his. She looked to the floor as she lead him on and whispered.
Mittle stood in front of the dungeons, watching prisoner after prisoner be relocated out of the lit basement structure and to a different smaller holding cell within the castle. The guards expressions told a very clear hatred for how they’d have to personally babysit them now, but Mittle’s eyes were focused into Cadance’s mane as his mind wandered further and further away from the material world around him. The Crown was kind enough to make arrangements for him immediately.
Though Mittle hated these rituals, he knew it would be necessary to gain more access to abilities that were not inherently his. Using them wildly and harshly at the Crystal Empire made him pay another price, it would be a large one especially so to overtake Sombra by himself. An army was out of the question, Sombra would enslave them all himself. Mittle was lucky enough that he was already ‘owned’ by something.
“Okay, that’s the last one, Princess Celestia,” a guard addressed her while she looked to Mittle.
“Thank you, dismissed,” she mumbled out and the guard took his leave after bowing to her, “Mittle, there is a bucket of water and a bucket for ahem waste already in the dungeons for you.”
Cadance looked up to him, wondering just how long he had been staring at her before watching him test the thick solid iron door, “stable. Do not interrupt me for an entire week. Do not deliver me food, do not deliver me anything else. Do not open this door or you’ll be gone.”
Both the ponies nodded at him, “are you sure you’ll be okay?” Cadance pipped her concern.
“I will. May I speak with Princess Cadance alone?” He addressed to Celestia who left a bit despondent without another word, “I have a request.”
Cadance nodded, “I’ll do it if I can.”
“Hold onto them,” Mittle began taking off armor piece after armor piece until he was left only in linen briefs. It was incredibly unusual to wear metal directly on the skin without a fabric padding layer underneath, Cadance could only imagine how uncomfortable it could be.
Though Mittle was exceptionally muscled underneath all the scars and fresh scabs on his arms, “I...I’ll hold onto them,” Cadance barely meeped out her words. Her pink coat hid her flushed cheeks somewhat well, but not completely while her eyes stayed focused on the floor. She still caught glimpses of the unnatural warping symbol on his chest.
She lifted the armor with her magic, ready to leave herself. His linen briefs fell at her hooves, stained red in many places. Her jaw slackened at the sight. Who knows what she would see if she looked up.
“Return them when you come to unlock me,” he spoke and shut the iron door behind him.
Cadance stood in the entryway to the dungeons astonished before she used her magic to lock the dungeon door with a key and levitated his belongings up. She trotted off from the dungeon, her face still bright red as she began to guess what he looked like.
She looked to the pile of equipment she kept levitated, noticing his ivory sword was not among his armor.
Mittle went about, moving the bucket of water and the empty bucket into a singular cell in the dungeon. He gently blew out candles and snuffed torches as he went, ensuring pitch blackness everywhere else before he came to the cell he moved the water and empty bucket to.
“Nightmares, horrors, abominations...”
He mumbled to himself as he blew out the last candle and then sat in the center of the cell, waiting for the orange glow of the wick to fizzle out completely. The Vehement would begin soon and time would be lost.
The very next day, Cadance checked on him before meeting Princess Celestia and Princess Luna to discuss a plan. The two sisters were already there, staring at the bottom of the door with curiosity. As Cadance drew closer, she could see a black liquid slowly seeping out from the bottom of the door. Though it had no fluid motions that proved ti was moving, it was spreading across the floor sluggishly.
“Aaahaahhhhaaaaaahhhh, aaahhh, eeuuuaaaaaah,” inhuman screams clearly from Mittle screeched through the door, rattling the confidences and fortitudes of all three princesses present who quickly skittered off after the sound.
Within the pitch blackness, Mittle was standing, pacing, walking everywhere. His eyes were shut, his hands constantly bumping into walls and iron bars. Physical touch was the only thing he had to assure himself that he was in this world and not dragged elsewhere.
Screeeek
Something scraped on one of the walls.
Screeeeeeeek gaaaah
And accompanying the second scrape was the exhale of something. They were here.
Mittle’s mind looped in circles. Who would he see this time? What would they want in exchange? What powers would he obtain? Could he just recenter his abilities without much of a cost? Was there more power than the mighty Blood Thunder to wield?
”Mittle.”
In his head, he heard a voice. He could have also heard it projected into his head, or Mittle maybe hallucinated the entire voice. That was the hardest part of talking and conversing with these entities. One could never know if they were real or fake or if they were only real inside the mind.
Mittle heard the unmistakable sound of rocks falling, stone crumbling. In this pitch blackness, he swore he could see gangly humanoid shapes walking around, solid black and darker than dark. The silhouettes looked like a poor imitation of human anatomy, as if on purpose to mock his form or to just simply unnerve him as much as they could.
Tssss
The hiss of metal, of sharp utensil scraped along the ground fled into Mittle’s ears. The sparks from whatever it was lit the cell for just a brief moment. Shadows cast from unseen silhouettes in the black that ran darker through and eventually seamlessly melded throughout the blackness. Mittle let out a small breath as a blue light slowly faded into his view in front, shadow limbs flitted between it and him, obfuscating his vision while they danced around the new illumination.
Haaasssaaaasst
A slow breathe and the grind of sharp teeth exhaled into his ear. Fear overtook him again and he was paralyzed while a second and third blue light lit the cell.
“Blood.”
A voice with no sound projected into his mind. A chorus perfectly united in timing and harmonization to sound exactly like a single entity, a feat no living creature could pull off. When one could communicate with them, they knew secrets, they didn’t have any questions for the universe and eventually they would arrive to a new inquiry. An investigation they would never delve to. Nobody knew if any of these things were alive.
Mittle split open his right arm with his ivory blade, the crimson fell and then ascended. It pooled in the air before it exploded in exact diagrams and sigils all over the walls. More blood was forcefully pulled from his hand, a sign of favoritism, and was painted over more walls of the dungeon. Mittle, however, didn’t feel weak. He felt empowered by the beings putting up their symbols to draw their existence closer to his.
Proactive meant that he was useful to them, it was the only bargaining chip he would have and he still didn’t understand what that meant. Not that he had ever successfully negotiated with these things. He couldn’t even utter a word on all the other Vehements.
”Blood Thunder Knight Mittle,” a name was ominous, terrifying that they actively used it, ”what do you seek?”
Mittle paused for a moment, what did he want? Instant respite to rejuvenate his powers? More power?
“Permancy,” he spoke in haste. They could interpret it however they pleased, but it was the only word he could manage with all the hands digging at his brain, dissecting each thought before his eyes and implanting new ones.
The entities were gods to Blood Thunder Knights, but he and all the others were only experiments. It didn’t leave a bad taste in his mouth like it did before, it was how things were. He could never scale to their height. If he gave them everything, they would grant him power befitting of their lowest minion.
A purple pupil appeared from a black bubbling pond on the floor of the cell, it stared deep at him. Mittle could feel the smile in his thoughts, he knew that it could see what he really desired even if he could not state it.
But he would never be free and they would never let him go, so they would offer something else. This specific rare otherworldly creature would offer him much more than he knew, but much less than others would value.
”Bargain.”
That was not a question.
”Thief is there, you will become a beacon for my balance, my wrath.”
Spoken again in a language he didn’t understand, but projected into his mind as a way he could interpret. This time it lacked images, except for a small cyan heart crested with gold on both sides. Thief was not a noun, it was proper. They, rather it, labeled something in Equestria a thief so much so that it dubbed it a new name. They were implanting their intent for him into his thoughts.
And the image of red eyes, a cursed horn, and corrupt magic was put at the front of his mind.
”Permancy, complete. Within reason.”
Mittle knew what came next, permanent access to their powers without making these visits would leave something lasting on his mind. That was the price, that and usually investigating how a human worked as all of the bodies they had seen differed in ways he or any other human didn’t understand.
The ivory blade split with a black line in the center of the white sword, growing to make a hole filled by a closed black eyelid. The sword lifted without control while the purple pupil, missing a sclera, observed. It in one swift strike, leading from head to toe in a vertical slash and barely cutting Mittle.
”Eeeeuuuuaaaaaaah,” he screeched, but not a soul was around to hear him.
Then the blade slashed in a blinding speed, perfectly like cutting a pizza. Mittle continued to cry out in agony while his skin was peeled back piece by piece. The purple eye watched and lines rose, optic nerves, touching and feeling his muscles as they twitched. Despite his flesh falling back into a twisted pile of flesh attached at his spine behind him, no blood fell. It swirled in the air like it was being held for him.
The sword flashed at incredible speeds again, cutting a little deeper and flaying him alive. Muscles were next, only around his torso and chest. The entity studied and studied his organs again and again as they functioned.
His flesh was not put back, it was kept tied and knotted up behind him while the pupil rose, observing silently while horrifying visions of the destructive visions it entertained spilled into Mittle’s mind. Minutes and minutes of agony all over his body wracked him beyond vocal ability unless the eye forced him so it could study. Hour and hours of deliberation occured in front of him, not that he could understand what was being said between the entities. Not that he could even comprehend or count how many were there either.
Mittle only knew that the price was worth it, they had never told him it’d be a bargain before.
He lost track of time. Lost track of pain. Lost track of light and dark, creature and shadow. Mittle was lost while they continued to torture his mind with showcasings of their earliest sins and earliest divine achievements.
“Okay, Twilight is here,” Cadance walked into the study adjacent the throne room along with the alicorn she used to foalsit.
”Eeeeuuuuaaaaaaah,” a chilling screech of terror was heard echoing down the hall, Mittle’s scream.
“What in Equestria was that?!” Twilight whipped her head back before she could finish entering.
“Our ace, our secret weapon,” Cadance smiled and ushered Twilight in.
Luna’s horn lit as she soundproofed the room, “we will not deny he holds some skill of combat to escape the Crystal Empire from Sombra’s army with Cadance and an injured wing,” she sighed, “but he is...touched. More than us and perhaps more than Sombra himself.”
“S-Sombra?! Again?! So that’s why you asked me to bring the girls, too,” Twilight pipped back and forth in the room, “where is he?”
“That’s the issue, we do not know,” Celestia answered, shaking her head free of the horrifying scream, “he’s staying hidden this time as to not be vanquished like before.”
“And we had gotten a report shortly before you arrived that Sombra had taken Manehattan, so now there are two cities he could possibly be in,” Luna continued from her sister.
“Have we tried a scrying spell?” Twilight posed the obvious solution.
Cadance nodded, “it revealed he was in the Empire at first and now it tells us he is in Manehattan, but with a lot of interference. We can’t pinpoint exactly where Sombra is.”
Twilight paused, putting her hoof to her chin, “how did he take Manehattan so quickly?”
“Yaks and griffons...he made an army and now ponies are among them,” Cadance clarified.
Twilight’s gaze fell to the floor, “I have an idea,” Twilight announced, “that secret weapon you were talking about. Is it or she available?” Twilight looked around the room.
“It is indisposed,” Luna answered.
“For one week, then he will be able to help,” Cadance eyed Luna, “some kind of ritual with his beliefs or something,” the truth was a lot darker, but young Twilight didn’t need to know.
“Do you think he could secure the entire Crystal Empire?” Twilight continued, “you indicated he was strong earlier, Cadance.”
“Maybe, Mittle’s very strong and without me to protect he might be able to, why?” Cadance drew closer to the map of Equestria that sat upon the desk while Twilight pointed at it.
“If we march back on Manehattan, me and the girls, we could force him to hide at the Empire where Mittle will track him down for us and expose him.”
“And then you could teleport back there and use the elements on him before Sombra escapes! We admire your thinking, Twilight. Risky as it may be, it might work,” Luna threw her hoof into the air, “I’ll begin ordering the mobilization of our forces so Sombra can not make it farther.”
“We’ll need every mage and unicorn in Equestria to help cast a shield spell of that caliber,” Celestia looked to Twilight and Cadance.
“Got it, I’ll start rounding up ponies, too,” Twilight galloped out of the room, breaking the sound proof barrier of the room.
A scream followed by numerous splats of liquid echoed lightly through the castle halls.
“I’ll go help find unicorns, too,” Cadance nodded.
“No, Cadance, you stay here should something happen so Mittle can still be imposed,” Luna answered before she disappeared in a flash of magic. Celestia teleported away herself.
The only remaining alicorn sighed, Cadance knew that was likely for the best. While she introduced Mittle to them, that made him a responsibility of hers and she’d by lying if she said his behaviors didn’t disturb her. Though she was the only pony to wonder who he was before the present.
That week had progressed sluggishly. The one regret Cadance had was hearing his screams every now and then and whatever had snuck in there with him. Today was the day they were opening the door to relieve all the unicorns holding Sombra’s conquest at bay. Today was the day that Mittle was being released.
Celestia, Luna, and Cadance were all gathered in front of the rusted door to the dungeon. Twilight had insisted so thoroughly to be here just to study whatever creature was there.
“Cadance, what act of his impressed you so much to speak as though he’s our savior in this?” Luna spoke up while the four of them stared at the door.
“His sword cut through armor and enemies better than a heated knife through butter. With his magic or natural abilities, he cleared a horde of Sombra’s army around me in a single second,” Cadance shook her head, remembering the viscera that flew and colored the crystal in a crimson dye that afternoon.
“We see,” Luna whispered out. A creature to rival their power, maybe even Starswirl’s.
Cadance swung the door open with her magic, in that singular moment she saw all she needed to about what Mittle is. Symbols in red blood and black liquid dotted, swirled, painted, and lashed every wall, every floor, every stone in the ceiling of the dungeon. The entryway was covered in them.
For the brief moment that she opened the door, every symbol was aglow with a blue light, out of character for the reds and blacks present. The same as the anomaly on his chest, these symbols were never seen before and geometrically couldn’t bend this way or that and connect just perfectly. Some were even jumbled off the wall, hovering as a three dimensional depiction.
The glow ended when she stepped her hoof inside before it began again when the door slammed shut behind her, on her. Princess Cadance pounded on the rusted metal with desperation she had never felt. She had the certain affirmation that whatever Mittle communed with did this. An absolute conviction that doomsday was in the room with her.
“Celestia! Luna! Open the door!” She screamed, “Twilight, this is not a time for pranks!” It wasn’t even a real accusation, it was a bad attempt at humor to calm her own nerves.
“Cadance, we can’t open it! We-,” Luna’s voice died out, all volume disappearing.
She looked around, her head whipping as the symbols lit with a blue glow again. Eyes floating in the middle of black voids opened. The lashes attached to the top and bottom were undulating black tendrils stained red and dripping with blood.
Cadance could feel something prod and ask before demanding to be let into her mind, like a forceful telepathy spell. It quickly stopped when she heard the patter of footsteps.
“They opened me this time,” that was Mittle’s voice, but it followed with a horrible lisp and creaked like he struggled to speak, “they showed me so much more than anybody else. Terrors that watch us just behind thin reality. Futures that will all be real one day.”
In the haunting cerulean light, the naked human form of Mittle walked up the steps from the depths of the dungeon. Not a single shred of his hide was on him and Cadance watched as his veins and arteries popped out atop and under his visible muscle tissue. His heart was visible, his lungs were heaving, all of his internals were on display and functioning just fine.
Cadance was too paralyzed to move or speak, this wasn’t natural. This was a nightmare in front of her.
“I asked them to let you in to see just for a while,” the flaps of skin dragged from behind Mittle, still attached by a center point on his spine. He held his ivory blade, a singular vertically slit-pupiled, yellow-green eye opened on the wide blade; blinking and watching the two of them, “maybe a mistake. They could mean their ‘while’ and time is a ball of yarn to them. We are the most interesting toys they’ve observed,” he held his right hand up toward Cadance, “I want your mind to be a little tempered against these visions and sights.”
The twist of flesh straightened and righted itself before it became a flat open tarp. The skin entombed him again, tendons and muscles stretching to attach themselves properly all with squelches Cadance would hear whenever a room would fall quiet. In a short moment, Mittle was ‘correct’ again. Cadance could see the mark on his chest twisting once more, but the rest of him was normal. She couldn’t even process the societal taboo of seeing his intimates while the eyes watched.
Black masses in the shapes of humans and ponies appeared, only visible by the void they created against the background of symbols. They watched and stared at Cadance without eyes.
“I will not let them touch you as they have me. We have an agreement. I let them see all of me, all of their favorite toy, and they let me use more of their power as I want to,” Mittle spoke up again while the masters of universes began to disappear, the tendrils lingering in the black masses.
The voids of pony and human shapes were next to leave and then the symbols ceased to glow, the parts written in air to float and create three dimensional anomalous shapes splattered to the floor.
“I wanted you to see, so you would know. Selfish of me, but I take comfort,” Mittle collapsed to his knees as he body pulsed and bloated in sporadic areas, his health returned and he was no longer an emaciated husk from lack of food, “forgive me.”
The door swung open, Celestia and Luna burst in quickly, their hooves disturbing the perfected unknown sigils, “Cadance!” Luna screeched, her horn sparked with massive amounts of magic and a bolt was shot at Mittle who stay collapsed on the floor.
A shield in a baby blue color absorbed the attack, “no, it’s okay. He’s not a threat,” Cadance managed to speak, still struggling to take in all the things she witnessed, “Mittle, are you ready? We have a plan.”
He slowly stood up and all four alicorns present shyed away, turning their eyes to the many symbols on the floor. Cadance levitated his armor and briefs in, cleaned and repaired as best the smiths could figure how to. Mittle put piece after piece on, looking over the pupil that was now closed behind a black void of an eyelid on his ivory sword, “I...am ready.”
“We’re going to push Sombra back to the empire, he’s a black unicorn with a red tipped horn,” Celestia started. Mittle knew him, his leash holder gave him sight enough to know.
“You’ll know him when you see him,” Luna continued while Twilight levitated a small blue gem into his free left hand, “Twilight here,” Luna picked up, noting the youngest’s lack of explaination, “made this as a beacon. Crush it when you have found Sombra and she’ll locate you and end this.”
“That’s little information,” Mittle commented, his eyes darted to each of their faces before he settled on Cadance’s, “but Sombra will be found and taken care of,” he found more words in looking at the one who shared his experiences.
“We need to get you on the train to the Empire then,” Cadance affirmed and turned around, trotting out, “and I’m coming with just in case Sombra hides too well,” a partial truth, she knew Mittle could use her presence to help steel his mind against what she witnessed.
All of their hooves were matted by blood and black bile, save for Cadance’s. The maids would know little nightmares after cleaning it.
“We object, Cadance. We can no-.”
“Sorry, Luna,” Cadance interrupted her, “but if we send Mittle with no guarantee that Sombra won’t hide then we may very well lose him and lose Sombra, too. Twilight and her friends can’t hold out in Manehattan forever either.”