The Duskan Youth Massacre was one of the most barbarous massacres in Equestrian history. Ten soldiers made it out alive. If walking corpses with eyes almost devoid of emotion could be considered that.

Hopelessly scarred, damaged and broken. No one could explain the horrors of the massacre.

To say Sombra was surprised when both Luna and Jet emerged, bloodied and bruised was an understatement. How could he describe the emotions he felt? Relief that they were back. Gratitude, knowing how slim the odds were. Complete and utter sadness, for all the other grief-stricken faces of citizens around him.

And rage, rage! Rage for what the Dusks had inflicted upon his friend and his brother. He couldn't imagine what they had suffered, and would suffer in the future.

But most of all, despair. Yes, he knew the whole war effort had been kind of pointless. Though a part of him had hoped, and maybe even believed, that they could've stood a chance against the Dusks.

All hope was lost because Luna had dared to challenge their quest for total domination. Elvira would come for them next. And this time, she would have no mercy.

After spending years in libraries, he had read about the Dusks and their torture methods. The Cruciatu was a series of tortures that took place for 50 days. Sometimes, it was physical. Sometimes, it was humiliation. And sometimes, it was psychological.

Each day held a different horror. And they were famous for using it exclusively upon their captured prisoners of war.

One of the leaders of the Great War, a man named Nox,had been forced to slit his own throat by the points of his crown. Another, Aurora, had had her former throne painted in her blood, and decorated with her bones.

He couldn't imagine that happening to his best friend. Luna didn't deserve it. Celestia didn't either. Maybe they were being too hard on Amore as well.

No, a part of him chided. She ruined your childhood. Not just yours. So many other peoples suffered because of her. And she knew it. That bitch knew it, yet she turned a blind eye.

"Um, excuse me, my lord?" A timid voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

He turned from the window to see a petite servant girl, with eyes resembling that of a doe.

"Yes?" Sombra asked. When he saw the way she inclined his head to him, and the way she looked at him with fear, he felt strangely....satisfied. He liked the way all the servants in the castle bowed to him, treated him with respect, and the way some of them eyed him warily.

That's what being the right hand man to a princess gets you, he thought. Power. Now he knew how Luna felt. She also enjoyed it. But like him, she was ambitious and wanted more. Yet how could she not see what she already had? So what if her sister outshined her? She still had power. She still had authority.

"There's someone here who wants to see you," the servant girl said, gesturing to the door.

The girl's amber eyes seemed to stare right through him, austere and penetrating. She held the skirts of her long, ice blue dress in one hand, and a book in the other.

"Evangelista?"

Evangelista seemed to glide across the hallway, finally dipping into a graceful curtsy.

"What brings you here?" Sombra asked her.

"We are friends," she answered simply. "I assume friends check in on each other, do they not? And in times like this, it is ever so important."

"You make a good point. What are you reading?" Sombra eyed her book. It was a beauty: the forest green cover and platinum binding complemented each other rather nicely.

"A History of Equestrian Warfare. Have you read it?" Evangelista asked.

"Yes. Of course. I've been tearing through these bookshelves like there's no tomorrow. You know me and books."

Evangelista nodded, not bothering to laugh along. She strode to the double doors of the wide room, pushing them out. The old things creaked, their rusty joints cracking, but flooded the room with light and fresh air.

"Care to chat on the balcony?" Evangelista inquired.

Sombra followed her, unsure of what else to do. There was something off about her. He wasn't sure if it was her piercing stare, the way she talked to him, or her movements which seemed too agile.

"High-society life must be an upgrade from your slums." Evangelista wrinkled her nose at that word. "You seem to be enjoying it."

"Of course. Who wouldn't? Back in the slums, Jet and I could barely scrape together a decent meal each night. But now, I can really focus on what I want to do. I have so many more opportunities to improve my magic."

Evangelista nodded. "You are extremely gifted at it. Well, I'm happy you're finding your place here."

"EVIE! SOMBRA! Hi!" Chrissy barreled through the doors of the main room, nearly tripping over her green skirts in a frenzy.

"Hi Chrissy," Evangelista greeted her. "What's the rush?"

Red in the face and ragged breathing, it was obvious Chrissy had run a long way.

"The....the...hospital...test results....Luna....Jet.....ALIVE!" Chrissy burst out, hugging them both. "They made it."

Sombra exhaled. He wouldn't lose his friends ever again. Jet and Luna had made it through a deadly massacre. And they were well on their way to recovery.

"But...." Chrissy trailed off. The bags under her eyes and purse of her lips told him something was off. "But...Jet...he has a problem. The doctors aren't sure what it's from yet, but...it's something to do with his nerves and brain. He'll have trouble controlling himself, and will be prone to seizures...."

For a second it felt like time had stopped. It took a second for everything to process. His brother was dead. Dead in a different way. Marred with problems of body and mind, the man he would see emerge from the hospital would not be his brother. He knew what war did to people.

"Sombra....it's ok, it's ok. It's going to be ok," Chrissy muttered as she clutched him, but she seemed to be saying it to herself more than to him.

Evangelista just looked on. "I am so sorry." was all she said. Her eyes held a distant, faraway look in them, like she was numb to everything around her.

"Get out. GET OUT!" Sombra roared at both girls.

Chrissy broke away and ran out the door, frantically wiping tears away as she did. Evangelista just nodded to him. "Take your time to grieve," she said, before sweeping out of the room, leaving behind nothing but a trail of floral perfume.

*******

Having retreated to the Moon Room to lick his wounds, Sombra sat amidst his beloved piles of books, his knuckles a milky white yet bruised vibrant purple. The blood on the walls had dried, but barely. A few cushions lay strewn across the floor, the stuffing spilling out of them and scattered around the room.

"We've lost everything," he mused to one in particular. His voice was not pleasant: raw and cracked around the edges and possessing neither charm nor beauty.

"Jet and I started off in the slums. We were surviving, not living. Now I'm living, not surviving. My hand is fixed. I'm more proficient at magic than I ever hoped to be. I'm Princess Luna's right hand man. Yet I'm not happy," Sombra continued, staring intently at a book. It was titled "Equestrian Magic and The Power Gods Hold".

"I thought the gods up above meant for certain things to happen. Everything here, everything done served a purpose." Sombra stood up and started pacing around the room. Running scarred fingers across the spines of books, brushing them along tabletops.

"Then why did they decide to turn my life into a hellhole!!!!" Sombra lunged towards a table at that, knocking it over and tumbling with it to the ground.

"I SAID, WHY DID THEY DECIDE TO TURN MY LIFE INTO A HELLHOLE!!!" Sombra screamed at the wood splinters, picking them up and slamming the against the glass.

For a moment he stared, in partial horror and partial bewilderment, at the man he saw through the glass. "What did I do deserve this," he muttered with a dangerously low edge in his voice.

Twenty minutes later, he was still staring at his reflection. One palm pressed up against the glass, the other hanging limply at his side while tears and sweat ran down his face.

"I don't want to know what comes next. Luna and Celestia got defeated in the massacre. The only thing they succeeded in was angering the Dusks. How did it go wrong," Sombra inquired, pacing around the room.

"HOW DID IT GO WRONG?!" Sombra snatched a thick book and threw it across the Moon Room. It sent a spiderweb of cracks through the glass, and fell limply to the ground.

"It shouldn't be possible. It shouldn't be possible! We left with enough time to get there. Three days was the time it would take. How did the Dusks get there before us? From the Duskan Empire to the Crystal Empire is a six day trip-"

Sombra paused for a moment, staggering back to catch his breath. Suddenly it all came together.

"Spies," he breathed. "HOW COULD WE BE SO STUPID!"

His vision flashed black before a wave of crimson flowed into his eyes, staining the world red. A bout of dizziness overtook him, and he collapsed onto his knees. He reached up to find his forehead coated in blood, and an overwhelmingly thick book lying next to him.

In the shadows lurked a slender feminine figure, coated in black from head to toe.

Sombra lunged at her, shooting a red spell. Though the girl leapt out of the way, the spell covered a rather large radius, and parts of it hit her. Droplets of blood fell from her mouth to the ground and she let out a sharp gasp.

The girl instantly retaliated. She grasped as many objects as she could hold: books, flower vases, quills.....

Sombra's blast of magic barely managed to deflect the flying quills that were aimed at him. A few caught him and tore through his skin, only adding to the pain.

The assassin leapt onto the small balcony,peering at him from in between the bars. Though her face was masked, Sombra was almost certain he was staring into her eyes. He faked a blow but she didn't budge.

She faked a throw which nearly caught him off guard, but neither broke their gaze. Until Sombra sent the balcony crashing down. Quills and books flew through the air with the girl, who majestically dove off the balcony, executing a flip and tackling Sombra.

They rolled on the ground, neither gaining the upper hand: though Sombra had magic on his side, the girl had speed and agility. Years of training for both opponents went head to head, clashing in a deadly battle.

The girl finally drew a shard of glass, lightly dusted with wood splinters. It's acute point shimmered under the light, and through Sombra's vision it could pass for a jewel. Translucent and glittering. Almost waiting to be dipped in his blood.

The next series of movements happened in a matter of seconds: the girl raked Sombra across the eye with her glass shard. He pushed her off of him and slammed her against the wall with a spell.

She instantly flung the glass shard at him, which danced in the air and buried itself in his shoulder. Sombra mustered up all the energy he could, and sent a giant blast of magic hurtling towards her.

With flash of red light and the slow shattering of the Moon Room's left wall, the silent assassin had jumped out the window and became one with the night.

And then there was the pain. Exploding pain in Sombra's left hand, his supposedly fixed hand. It felt like the nerves were twisting and contorting like venomous snakes or rabid vines, causing his fingers to twitch and jerk.

The blood ran into his face and down his body, while his hand succumbed to a routine of seizures.

But a second later, all of those ceased to exist.

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