---

As one of the most promising magicians to yet emerge from the Crystal Empire, Sombra Greyhorn often found himself at the receiving end of a great many prying, trivial, and occasionally inconsiderate questions. Inquiries like What manner of spells are you crafting now? and Do you prefer working in Alteration or Illusion? battered him each time he received the unfortunate honor of representing the Empirical College of Magical Arts at the Triannual Equestrian Symposium of Magical Sciences.

It was really a dreadful affair, Sombra thought. The disruption to his studies proved irritating enough—but to be groomed, displayed on some academic panel, and then interrogated by every aspiring magician in Equus cemented the Symposium as one of Sombra's Least Favorite Things.

Somepony had actually asked about them, once. After a young unicorn with an appraising glint in his eye had posed a rather opportunistic question (Do you take personal students up at the Empirical College?), an earth pony with a thundercloud for a cutie mark had raised his hoof and droned "What are your least favorite things about being a magician in the Crystal Empire?"

"Having my work interrupted by students, having my work interrupted by colleagues, and having my work interrupted by the Symposium," Sombra had replied in short order. As an afterthought, he added, "The laboratories are uncomfortably chilly, too, I suppose."

The Archmage didn't send Sombra to the Symposium again after that.



With the Symposium taken care of, Sombra had only disruptions from his colleagues and his students to contend with. The former were only really an issue whenever some other professor fancied a collaboration of some sort—to which a brusque no proved adequate deterrence. Students, on the other hoof...

While the Crystal Empire's College of Magical Arts didn't fetch as much public attention as Starswirl's pet academy down in Canterlot, it did possess a fair number of students—some of whom were eager to learn, some of whom were eager to demonstrate their skills, and all of whom demanded more time and energy than Sombra was willing to part with. He taught a single section of Intermediate Precision Spellcasting, yet still found himself stalked through the halls by students eager for mentorship.

Being a harsh grader didn't help, nor did his reputation as a right old grump. The only way to avoid being swarmed by demanding, over-eager students was to hide in the Royal Athenaeum like a foal fleeing an impending scolding.

Sombra smiled softly to himself as he basked in the radiant peace of the Athenaeum. Only the soft scratching of his quill disturbed the air—a sound quickly lost amidst the many imposing books lining the walls from floor to ceiling.

Arguably more exclusive than achieving tenure, admittance to the private library of Queen Amore was a privilege granted to few and held lightly by none. Sombra could have wept with joy when the Archmage granted him a key and a desk. How perfect, to be able to research and formulate his theories in near-absolute silence! Beyond reach of his students! Uninterrupted by his colleag—

"Magister Sombra?"

Sombra's quill froze in place. Midnight-blue ink began to pool upon the parchment, bleeding all over his analysis of Mage Meadowbrook's third artifact. He stared at the growing puddle blankly, his mind furiously calculating.

Voice is male, reserved but not arrogant—unlikely to be from Mathematics or Natural Sciences. Use of my official title and not 'professor' suggests he either wants something or is from administration. Both? Both. Clipped speech, didn't draw out the question, just wants my attention, so favor is either a meeting or something that can't be asked here—

With his third supporting paragraph now completely submerged beneath the puddle of ink, Sombra snorted angrily and abandoned his efforts. Spinning around, he snapped,

"Whatever it is you want, the answer is no," he snapped.

A crystal pony garbed in the attire of a Royal Scribe stared at him cooly. "Magister Sombra, Archmage Quickshine requests your presence in her study." His eyes lingered upon the thoroughly-soaked parchment threatening to spill onto Sombra's desk, adding, "I'll tell her to expect you shortly."

Sombra almost made a note to add 'Having my work interrupted by the Archmage' to his list of Least Favorite Things, but his attention was quickly drawn to saving his desk from a rather major set of stains.

Besides, Archmage Quickshine could usually be relied on to have a tin of dried apricots in her study.

---

"Don't bother sitting down," the Archmage said dismissively as soon as Sombra entered the study. Levitating her ermine-trimmed cloak around her shimmering form, she nodded towards the door. "I've an appointment with the Head of Geology, and require your insight."

Sombra spared the round tin on the desk a mournful glance, but grudgingly followed Quickshine into the hall.

"Geology?" he sniffed. "Whatever could you need me for with that?"

"Crystals," she replied solemnly.

To his credit, Sombra attempted to refrain from rolling his eyes. He really did try.

"Quickshine," he muttered in an undertone as they passed the lecture halls. "You know my opinion on crystology."

The Archmage didn't meet his eyes. "I do. I recall reading no less than five treatises on the subject."

"Then you know why I think the whole matter's a dead end and a waste of time!" he hissed. "We've already found them all, Archmage. There are no more Elements to find. The Equestrians have their Pieces of Harmony, the Empire has the Crystal Heart, and since none of the Princesses will allow us to take them for experimentation, there's no use in further speculation—"

"I wouldn't disturb you for mere speculation," Quickshine interrupted.

"Then what, pray tell, are you disturbing me for?"

Quickshine met his eyes then, and the grin on her face was enough to give the Magister pause.

"We found another Element."



The Head of Geology, Magistra Sparkle Dust, was a slender, elderly mare that looked as though an errant wind would topple her right over. Her frailty belied her energetic enthusiasm, however, which became apparent the moment Sombra and Quickshine entered the department's excavation chamber.

"Archmage!" Sparkle Dust all but shrieked, waving emphatically for the two newcomers to approach.

Sombra followed the Archmage as they stepped cautiously across the rocky, uneven floor. In contrast to the light-filled, clear-hewn stones that filled the city, the crystals in this cavern were clouded and lusterless. Shadows lurked in their depths like colorful novae, frozen for eternity in the bowels of the earth. Pretty enough, Sombra supposed. Pretty, if useless.

Almost as if she could read his thoughts, Sparkle Dust snorted. "I'd step a bit more carefully, were I you, Magister. Those stones are every bit as powerful as your spells."

"Perhaps even more so," Sombra retorted, eyes narrowing. "Considering I've no knowledge of any spells powerful enough to sit around and do nothing."

Interrupting before the two ponies could really get going, the Archmage raised a hoof. "Magisters, please. If you could refrain until after our business is concluded, the Empire would thank you for it."

"Ah, yes. Do feel free to divulge this business whenever is most convenient, Archmage," Sombra muttered. Sparkle Dust's eyes widened at his impudence, then widened further when Quickshine let the remark slide.

With a final glance, the Magistra turned on her hooves and crossed the final few steps to where a deep crevice marred the rough-hewn floor. She pointed into the shadowy crack. "Here they are, Archmage."

Quickshine exhaled reverently, a broad smile stretching from ear to ear. Sombra opened his mouth, questions and remarks leaping to his tongue, but in the end he could only stare.

Two pulsating stones lurked half-embedded in the crevice. No larger than a plum each, they sat nestled in a river of silver ore, glittering as brilliantly as crystal in clear daylight. Colors shimmered across the surface of each stone: magenta followed by violet followed by a deep, verdant emerald. They were mesmerizing; Sombra couldn't deny their beauty.

He also couldn't deny the fact that they radiated magical energy.

The Magister whirled on the Archmage.

"What intentions do you have for me?" he demanded. "What part am I to play in this discovery?"

Magistra Sparkle Dust snorted lightly. "I'm afraid the discovery's already accounted for. You're to assist with the extraction bit."

Sombra looked from Sparkle Dust to the Archmage blankly. "What's there to assist with? Just pick them up."

"Just pick them up?" sputtered Sparkle Dust. "Just—just pick—Archmage, are you certain this—this ignoramus is the best-suited pony for the task?"

"Best-suited in the entire Empirical College," Quickshine replied, almost mournfully.

This information did not seem to comfort the Magistra at all, and she refused to spare Sombra a second glance as they made plans to begin excavations in two days' time. To his (carefully suppressed) glee, the Archmage informed Sombra that his teaching responsibilities would be taken care of, leaving him free to assist the Magistra, who still looked as though she had half a mind to call the whole thing off, Elements or no.

As the two made to leave the excavation site, however, Sparkle Dust shouted, "I'll accept his help, but he'd better have his vision tested before setting hoof in this cavern again! I mean it! I can stomach shocking deficiencies in education, but perfect vision is a non-negotiable requirement."

Archmage Quickshine nodded in understanding. "Of course, Magistra. I'll send him on the morrow."

"I beg your pardon?" Sombra asked as they mounted the stairs leading back to the city. "You're sending me where?"

"I'm sending you to the optometrist, Sombra," Quickshine said evenly, cool steel lurking behind the sweetness of her words. "And then I'm sending you to help Magistra Sparkle Dust with her precision spellcasting. I could be sending you to oversee student tutoring, or to the Symposium, or to Celestia's school in Canterlot, but instead I'm sending you to work on the most remarkable magical discovery of our age."

Sombra swallowed his protests. The Archmage smirked.

"I know you don't fancy crystals and stones, Magister, but if those are Elements down there, then crystology might earn you the privilege of never needing to deal with students again."

---

Crystal Clear, Optomagician read the plaque on the wall.

Don't you dare call me Crystal said the clench in the doctor's jaw when he trotted into the sparsely-decorated examination chamber. Sombra eyed the stallion up and down.

Smooth coat, well-groomed, magic-related cutie mark? No glasses, no appearance of a vision spell, but crinkles around eyes from squinting; can't have always had perfect eyesight. Good at what he does, then. Chin held high, arrogant cock to his head... I wonder—

Sombra arched a brow at the doctor. "Crystal Clea—"

"Doctor Clear is fine," the stallion interrupted curtly.

Talented and a backbone, then. Sombra decided he liked Doctor Clear quite well already.

The doctor cleared his throat. "So, just an examination today, Magister? The referral mentioned an academic assignment."

"Crystal-hewing," Sombra sighed. "I've been recruited from my studies to help extract a few gemstones and the excavation overseer wants an assurance that I won't mistake a priceless magical artifact for a piece of rock."

Crystal Clear grunted. Magicking over a stack of papers, he began to rifle through them. Without looking up, he added,

"How often do you use that vision-polishing spell?"

"Daily," Sombra replied.

Crystal Clear nodded. "Here for glasses, then? Or a more permanent enchantment?"

"Whatever would I need that for?" the Magister asked, bewildered.

The doctor shrugged. "Easier than casting that spell every morning. Also doesn't leave that arcane residue lingering over your eyes—can be dangerous if you're grinding herbs and mixing concoctions and the like. The residue traps fumes against your eyes and can cause a magical reaction. Standard laboratory practice is to have the permanent enchantment or spectacles."

"I prefer my spellcasting," Sombra replied cooly. "As I have no intention of working in an alchemical laboratory, there's little risk of such a reaction."

"As you wish." The lights dimmed, and Doctor Clear's horn glowed. An array of runes appeared on the wall, each letter a different size. "If you'll begin at the top, please."





"Your polishing spell is commendable," Doctor Clear said approvingly, when Sombra had finished. "I should have suspected no less, I suppose."

"You really shouldn't have," Sombra muttered, as the doctor proceeded to examine his eyes.

When he finished, the optomagician scribbled something down on a piece of parchment. "At any rate, you're certainly well-sighted enough to deal with whatever precious gemstones they're throwing you at. Do come back if you change your mind about the permanent enchantment."

His tone of voice suggested he really couldn't care less whether Sombra ever stepped into his office again, and the Magister nodded at him in respect as he left. Refusing to engage in pretense was an admirable quality in a professional, really.

If only the Archmage could understand that politeness was nothing more than an unnecessary pretense.

---

Magistra Sparkle Dust read Doctor Clear's note with suspicion the next day, but ultimately it must have proved satisfactory, for she folded in up and tucked it into her saddlebags before trotting towards the crevice.

"I hope you brought refreshments for lunch," she called over her shoulder. "It's going to be long, tedious work."

"I'll survive somehow," Sombra stated, picking his way across the cavern after her. The stones might not possess the volatility of a major enchantment, but they were still treacherous—carelessness in his hoofing could easily result in a turned ankle. The Magistra was pulling out the last of her diamond-tipped tools when he reached her side.

They settled into position: Sombra splayed across the floor with his head poking over the Elements' crevice, while Sparkle Dust knelt beside him—the better to direct and criticize his every move, he soon found out. The slender pick—made of dragonbone, from the feel of it—was easy enough to place with his fine-tuned telekinetic casting, but it seemed that Sparkle Dust was determined to take umbrage with his use of the tiny, delicately-carved mallet no matter how he wielded it.

"Too hard!" she hissed for the thirteenth time that hour. "Are you trying to kill us all?"

"Kill you?" Sombra snapped, trying to retain focus and blink sweat out of his eyes at the same time. "Tell me, Magistra, is over-exaggeration your special talent, or did it take effort to master?"

Sparkle Dust's voice was more of a growl. "You would do well to respect where you are, Magister."

"I'm surrounded by rocks. Pretty, hard, rocks—"

"If those rocks turn out to be Elements, they could smite us, colt! Have you seen the Harmony Pieces in action? Do you know what they can do in the hooves of the Royal Pony Sisters?"

Sombra clenched his jaw. "The Royal Pony Sisters are extremely magical creatures, ones in possession of arcane talents most ponies can scarcely dream of. I've said it before, and I will continue to profess it until it's accepted as the truth it is: Harmony Pieces and Crystal Hearts and Elements and all this crystal nonsense is nothing more than—well, nonsense."

Sparkle Dust said nothing, and instead attempted to glare a hole into his head. Deciding that his sweat-soaked mane would provide sufficient protection against glaring-induced incineration, Sombra continued,

"The Pieces of Harmony reflect and focus the characters and abilities of two alicorns, yes? And the Crystal Heart requires the love and happiness of an entire Empire in order to function. These aren't items of power. Tools, yes. Instruments, yes. They've demonstrated enormous honing capabilities, and are certainly valuable from an arcane perspective, but they don't. Possess. Inherent. Magical. Power!"

He hit the mallet against the dragonbone pick, and instantly knew it was too hard, much too hard.

The Element nearest the pick glowed, sending off sparks more red than purple. The two ponies stared at it with wide, panicked eyes, rooted to the spot. Something uncomfortable churned in Sombra stomach—something that tasted of fear and horror and the terrible suspicion that he might have been wrong.

After a minute or two, the Element seemed to quiet, sparks fading as it returned to its purple-green glow. Sombra closed his eyes as relief washed over him, undimmed by Sparkle Dust's shaking whisper.

"You...I don't... Just... Just be careful, please," she finished unsteadily.

Unable to find it in himself to disagree, Sombra levitated both pick and mallet out of the crevice and onto the stone beside him. He winced as he slowly sat up, muscles cramped from lying upon the floor for so long. The movement was enough to disturb the sweat clinging to his forehead, and a single drop raced down his nose to plop squarely upon the quieted Element.

Sombra managed a single curse before the ground began to shake.

It happened slowly and then all at once: the stone beneath his barrel trembled in a single, shuddering move, and then it buckled.

The ceiling of the cavern whirled past Sombra's eyes, followed quickly by an upside-down Sparkle Dust and then the floor as he was thrown across the room. Landing hard, Sombra could only gape wordlessly as the clouded, shadowed crystal forming the caver grew lighter, streaks of white following the cracks spider webbing across the floor, up the rough-hewn walls, across the ceiling—

A chunk of what Sombra remembered to be navy-blue crystal hanging directly above the Elements' crevice appeared azure with cracks. Sombra watched in horror as Sparkle Dust struggled to get to her hooves once, twice, three times to no avail, unable to move from below the multi-ton crystal threatening to become dislodged.

Another shake, and it was no longer a threat. A yell of warning tore itself from Sombra's throat, and his horn matched it with a burst of light. His magic enveloped the boulder, catching it a mere five inches from the Magistra's head. The elderly mare sagged to the now-trembling floor in relief.

Sombra, however, could do no such thing. The hunk of crystal in his grasp—while undeniably massive—proved taxing beyond the expected challenge of holding it aloft. It consumed the magic touching it: siphoning arcane energy like one of those black holes the astronomers loved to prattle about. By the time Sombra managed to drop it a safe distance from the Elements and Sparkle Dust, he felt as though he'd attempted to levitate the entire Crystal Palace.

Resting his damp head against the cool, mercifully-still floor proved to be a marginal improvement.

---

If the Athenaeum was quiet in the daytime, the setting of the sun turned it to a tomb. All risk of disruption disappeared, and so it was with this in mind that Sombra piled his desk high with books on Crystology and every sort of Gem Theory he could get his hooves on.

"Magister Sombra?"

Even at this hour, interruptions weren't enough to fully draw Sombra's attention from his research.

[i]Female, measured—likely faculty or in a position of power. Not Archmage, not Archmage's assistant; voice is curious but not tentative, so not inquiring after a favor—"

"You should really be getting some rest, after the day we've had. I'm afraid we'll be back at it tomorrow."

Sombra turned around to see the face of Sparkle Dust smiling wearily at him.

He blinked. "Oh."

She nodded. "The Archmage spoke to the Queen; we've been granted permission to continue. Commanded, really. Seems her Highness is eager to get those stones somewhere they won't be able to collapse her kingdom."

Sombra nodded, turning back to stare at the open pages of A Spellcaster's Guide to Stoneworking.

"I'll—ah, I'll try not to stay up too late, then," he told the book.

Silence stretched out between them. It grew longer and longer, until Sombra was certain that the Magistra had stole away without his notice when she spoke:

"The Archmage spoke truly of your ability. Your spellcasting really was impressive."

Sombra opened his mouth and then closed it right back up. Eventually, he managed, "What—what type of crystal was that? The type that I—"

"The type you saved the Elements from?" And me, hung in the air.

Sombra's nod was met with an approving smile.

"Azuris," Sparkle Dust supplied, leaning over him to page through the Guide. "Ascendancy Azuris, if you're keen to know. The caverns are stricken with it."

"It ate my magic," Sombra explained haltingly. "It—When I lifted it, I expected a fair amount of arcane strain due to the sheer size of the thing. But it—it required more energy than I expected—much more, far too much. It ate my magic."

Sparkle Dust met his expectant gaze with a shrug. "It's an ascendancy crystal—and Azuris at that. They're positively greedy for magic. There's great potential for energy storage, should any decent mages decide to abandon their pursuit of spellcasting glory in favor of contributing something more useful to the world."

Sombra stared at the picture in the book. "It felt so alive," he murmured, almost reverently. "I know it was only attracting the energy of my spell, but it felt alive."

"Manipulation can be just as much a force as creation, can it not?" the Magistra asked, raising a sly brow.

"Oh come on now, no need to be smug about the matter!" Sombra protested hotly, snapping back to his senses.

Sparkle Dust only laughed at his furious frown.

---

There was one item that Sombra believed to belong to every magician's list of Least Favorite thing: a common factor that united all arcane-inclined individuals. It was an unspoken law of the universe, one that needed no vocalizing, no addressing, no acknowledgement of any sort to remain true. It went without saying that even more than he hated students, colleagues, or the Symposium, Magister Sombra—along with every other spellcaster on the face of the planet—despised being proved wrong.

Luckily, the excitement of freeing two new Elements from the depths of the earth was proving an efficient balm for his wounded pride. Each day, he joined Sparkle Dust at the excavation site—now thoroughly reinforced with great wooden struts and beams—and they continued the tedious process of hewing the stones from the earth with patient understanding. Hours slipped by in moments, unnoticed by either pony in the face of their great challenge.

So great was their focus, Sombra raised no protest when another professor of geology showed his class around the site. Their hushed voices bounced around the cavern, pooling and echoing against the crevices of the stone, but Sombra heard only Sparkle Dust's voice guiding the steady tap tap tap of mallet against pick.

It's an atmosphere that might almost be described as comfortable, were it not for the ever-present possibility of bringing the ceiling down upon their horns.



"Magistra Sparkle Dust," Sombra began one morning, after they had fallen into a familiar rhythm of tapping. "You're an expert on crystals, yes? What do you suppose these Elements are?"

Sparkle Dust pondered the question for a moment, eyes drifting up to scan lazily over another class entering the chamber.

"I don't think they're Pieces of Harmony," she offered at last. "Those were very clearly a set, and these differ dramatically in color."

"You've seen the Pieces?" Sombra asked, mildly impressed.

Sparkle Dust's eye roll was very nearly audible. "They're displayed at the Symposium, as all respectable spellcasters know. I daresay half the College has seen them."

"I'm not particularly fond of the Symposium," Sombra admitted. "Too loud, and rarely more informative than the research time sacrificed for their sake. What are they like? The Harmony Pieces," he added hastily, lest she think him less than diametrically opposed to every aspect of Symposia.

"They're lovely," she breathed. Her eyes slid out of focus as she stared far, far to the south. "Five of them are hexagonal in cut, but one is a six-pointed star. The elder Princess wields that one. EAch one is brilliantly hued—all different colors, too. Entirely different from these." She nodded to the two gems below, which shifted from violet to emerald as though on cue.

Sombra paused in his efforts, and the two simply stared at the Elements for a moment.

"I don't know what they are," Sparkle Dust admitted finally. "But I'm certain that once they're out in the open, you'll be the first to discover it."

Sombra snorted, but flashed her an appreciative smile. "For the sake of my sanity, I hope so. I don't think I'll be able to tolerate students again after this."

The few members of the touring class that overheard him possessed the decency to not look offended. Or perhaps they hadn't heard him at all; the professor seemed to be delivering a rather impassioned lecture on the dangers of reactivity.

"I hate that I'm the one to tell you this," Sparkle Dust said in a voice that belied no regret whatsoever. "But as somepony involved in the discovery of two new Elements, you won't have time for students. Not with all the Symposia you'll be presenting at!"

Sombra growled. "I'll write the treatise if you present it."

"Deal," the Magistra said without hesitation.

"Excellent," Sombra finished in an undertone, carefully maneuvering the pick beside the Element. He scraped the silver ore thoughtfully. "This one's close to being freed."

"Indeed," Sparkle Dust agreed, barely-concealed excitement in her voice. "Perhaps it's best if we worked on the other one for a time, so that they're released from the silver at the same time? They're clearly a set, after all."

Sombra nodded in concession, and the two cautiously shuffled along the floor, repositioning to better reach the second Element. The eyes of half the class followed their movements.

In the end, Sombra's hatred of students would prove the most justified.



The students snuck up on the two professors, creeping across the cavern with all the stealthy curiosity of youth. They were polite enough, considerate in their intrusion—they made no noise as they edged closer, offered no disturbance to the rhythm drifting from the crevice. Half-aware that a hooffull of students were observing at a close distance, Sombra later suspected that he wouldn't have minded all that much.

But there was always one student ahead of the others: one that finished the exams before the others, one that mastered the spells in record time, one that charged hornfirst into the unknown, leading the way into greater knowledge and understanding. One student that wouldn't hesitate to edge his way right up to the edge of the crevice, far enough to get a decent, proper look at what was sure to be the most remarkable discovery of the entire century.

Once upon a time, Sombra might have been that student. But instead he held the pick and mallet, and while Sparkle Dust's directions flowed smoothly and predictably, their rhythm remained a fragile thing, sustained by an unfailing focus. Their focus quickly proved to be similarly fragile when an indignant cry rang out.

The professor, having caught sight of his errant, curious student, called out for the colt to back up. The shout drew both professors' attentions—long enough for Sparkle Dust's instructions to falter upon her lips. Seeing that the source of the disturbance was merely a professor chiding his students—an entirely relatable experience, to Sombra at least—the Magister allowed his arcane grip to loosen slightly, the pick and mallet relaxing to the side.

The chastised student yanked his head back from the crevice. Too quickly: he brushed against the Magister ever-so-slightly—not enough to budge him, but enough to startle somepony who'd no idea that there was a student right there beside him. Sombra recoiled from the unexpected touch, yelping slightly as his arcane grip seized reflexively.

The mallet hit the silver ore with an audible tap. The dragonbone pick rammed against the edge of the Element, marring it's ethereal surface with a terrible, spidery crack.

Before Sombra's eyes, the crack fissured along the surface, spreading like wildfire until the only thing holding the stone together seemed to be sheer happenstance. A dull roar built behind his ears—whether originating from Sparkle Dust, the students, or his own abject horror, he didn't know. Horn flaring, Sombra blanketed the fragmented Element in magic, drawing upon every ounce of restorative capability he possessed.

The Element exploded. A glittering, swirling cloud of dust burst from the crevice, hitting Sombra full in the face. The fine powder burrowed into his eyes, sharp and cutting and then burning, burning violently as it mixed with the vision polishing spell covering his pupils.

He screamed, then—recoiling from the vein of silver as though tossed, frantically clawing at his eyes. The roar in his ears drowned even his tortured shrieks out in a torrent of noise, but Sombra could feel the screams as they tore their way from his throat.

A hoof grasped his chin, frail but firm, and tilted his face upward while another hoof pried his eyes open. Water—clear and cold and piercing—glanced against the glossiness of his eyes, washing away the dust clinging to his lashes. It did little to halt the magical reaction bubbling against his corneas, though, and before Sombra could process his movements he was running, staggering across the caverns in a desperate, uneven gait. And then a fresh wave of pain brought with it a surge of arcane strength, and when the trademark flash of teleportation faded he was nowhere in sight.

---

"Help," Sombra rasped, falling into existence against a solid mahogany desk. Papers fluttered to the floor alongside him, providing a rustling noise that disguised the optomagician's hoofsteps as he hurried to the thrashing Magister's side.

"What did you do?" Doctor Crystal Clear asked, words steeped in horror.

Sombra tried to turn his face towards the voice, hoping beyond hope that his eyes were open. They must have been, for a pair of hooves pinned him down without further ado. A moment later, a warmth that could only be magic poured over Sombra's face: down his forehead, down his nose, into his eyes.

At last, the burning slowed. It slowed, and then gradually, so gradually, it began to lessen. Each decrease in intensity was met with the soft pat of something tiny hitting Sombra's coat. After five or six such instances, he realized with a start that Crystal Clear was pulling each individual fragment from his eyes.

The Magister lied on Crystal Clear's floor for a small eternity, the time made bearable only by the ever-closer promise of an end to the pain. At last, the spell faded from his face and Sombra's eyes slid shut. The office air brushed against the lids, mercifully cool upon the inflamed surface.

"Here," Doctor Clear muttered, pulling Sombra to his hooves only to promptly shove him into a chair. "Open your eyes when you're ready, but please, next time, go to the royal medic."

The shuffling of papers reached Sombra's ears as the doctor returned to his business, leaving the Magister adrift in a sea of blurry shadows and unfamiliar sounds. Sombra tolerated the disconnect for half an hour, but eventually he could take no more.

They had destroyed an Element.

Prying his reluctant eyes open, Sombra made to stand up. The now-familiar magic of Doctor Clear yanked him back into his seat.

"Examination first," he said in a voice that brokered no arguments. The lights dimmed, and once again letters adorned the wall.





Sombra frowned. "It's terribly blurry," he explained hoarsely. "I can't see much at all."

"Just try."





Swallowing, Sombra tried to rally his attention. Oh, his blurry vision promised to give him a headache!

"I... I see a C," he began hesitantly.

"Good," Crystal Clear murmured.





"S... And a T. And—A?"

The roar in his ears returned, intelligible in the relative quiet of Crystal Clear's office.

Crystals, it crooned.

"Is that an L?" Sombra asked, reaching up to mop at his brow.

Crystals and crystals and crystals.

"No," the doctor replied, a frown evident in his voice. The letters swam before Sombra's eyes.

Sharp and lovely and every bit as good as the Element, every bit as powerful.

"Are you sure you got it all out?" the Magister asked feverishly. "There was quite a bit of it."

"I retrieved all the fragments," Crystal Clear confirmed.

"And the dust?" Sombra swallowed again. "It—it was almost a vapor—"

The optomagician's voice rang hollow. "The dust already seared itself to your eyes, Magister. I merely pulled off the bits that still smoldered. Your eyes—"





"They're crystalline," Sombra whispered.

You can do so much with crystals, so much, and they're everywhere, not nearly as rare as Elements oh no.

Frantic hoofbeats echoed outside the office, stopping outside the door. Without a word of warning, it burst open. Sombra turned, blinking, only to be met with a few blurry shapes.

"Sombra!"

"Magister—"

"Professor I'm so so so—"

Student, dismiss and disregard. Distinguished female, that's Quickshine and—is that the Queen?

Blinking furiously, Sombra willed the shapes before him to come into focus, to no success.

"Magister Sombra, it is of utmost importance that you tell us what transpired at the site."

Oh, that was definitely the Queen. Impatiently and without hesitation, Sombra cast the troublesome vision-polishing spell upon his eyes.

The world immediately exploded into color, but the voice in Sombra's ears assured him it didn't hurt, it didn't hurt, it didn't hurt. His vision burned, he could feel the flames licking at his cheeks, could see the shocked horror written upon every inch of Queen Amore's face as they locked gazes. She burned away, lost in the fires of his eyes—and then so was Archmage Quickshine, who stepped close enough for Sombra to see her open her mouth in wordless protest.

Whiteness bloomed across his eyes as he ripped the enchantment away. The bluriness returned as expected, but within a moment his vision shifted. A green hue tinted the world, bringing everything into crystal-clear focus.

"I can see?" More quizzical than relieved, Sombra looked to the optomagician. Crystal Clear, however, seemed more occupied by something on the floor, close to the doorway. Sombra turned to look, and found himself met with two piles of dust: one as pale and colorless as Quickshine's coat and the other as shimmery and radiant as the finest of—

Crystals and crystals, so nice, so useful, and so convenient how the ponies turn back into crystal, back into dust. See, look, even their Queen! Even their Queen is nothing more than dust, fine Crystal dust.

"Crystalline," Sombra breathed, hardly aware of the flames drifting from his eyes. Mesmerized, he reached down to drag a hoof through the fine, glittering powder. It changed color by the second, capturing and releasing the light in a dazzling display.

Almost as an afterthought, Sombra noticed the Archmage's cloak lying atop the crystalline powder. It settled nicely upon his back, and the remnants of crystal-dust that fell from it left the prettiest trail behind him, as he strode with confident purpose towards the Royal Palace.

A King may have all the Crystals he desires.