“I…”

Radiant Hope withers under those burning golden eyes, hoof shaking as she tries to replace the crimson tile. Sweat beads along her leg, her throat burns, and any tears she might have cried evaporate before they get a chance to fall. It’s like she is moving her hoof underwater - no, under a thick blanket of snow, that gets harder and harder the more she moves. She gets the tile sideways at first, whimpering as she twists it this way and that until it finally slips into place.

Only once the pattern is repaired does that overwhelming burden lift. She raises her head, stopping just as she sees a pair of cloven hooves. Between her and the ram, shimmering in the air mere inches away from engulfing her, is a sphere of spinning fire, a miniature sun centered on that horn-spiraled skull. It ignores the walls and tiles but not him, making a grisly sight as hair and hide slouch off and turn to ash before her eyes only to be continuously replenished. Her body would suffer the same incineration, only without the regeneration, if he took a step closer.

“We… We didn’t mean to.”

She hopes the apology is enough, because she has nothing else to give. She can detect him probing at her thoughts for any hint of omission or misdirection, though that detection is likely only because he wants her to know; anycreature capable of overpowering basic mental defenses with just a word is capable of doing so without the subject noticing (as Sombra could, much as she does not want to admit that aloud). Whatever he finds must exonerate them; the sphere of fire winks out, though the uncomfortable heat remains.

“You may inform your Princess...” Grogar (she assumes, as he matches the descriptions she knows about, and shudders to think that there might be others that powerful) pauses to snort unhappily, sending his bushy white beard flapping. “...That my task remains incomplete.” He regards Radiant Hope with a pointed glare, sending her - though only briefly - into that penitent state. “And it will remain so if those she sends interferes.”

“Our Princess?” Tempest Shadow asks, bristling at the implication. Radiant Hope can’t help but smile at her friend; even if she is abrasive, her courage in flippancy gives Hope strength.

He turns to Tempest Shadow and nods, daring her to contradict him with a tone so patronizing it must be deliberately bombastic. “Only my own magic would allow you passage, trinkets I have imbued and granted to Solaris Invictus, may she never be overcome.” His reverence flatly marks as inconceivable that they might have come to one of those trinkets through nefarious means or broken into his ‘hallowed halls’; thus implying Celestia wanted them to have it. His confidence in his and Celestia’s abilities is either staggeringly misplaced or utterly terrifying.

With an air of finality Grogar turns to leave, though his gaze remains on them. “Now, Begone.”

The last word, though it carries more than the mere power of speech, leaves open the possibility of defiance. Radiant Hope resists, casting aside the mental force pushing her away, not having come this far to leave with nothing.

“Please.” She quails under his gaze, as though the consequence of wasting his valuable time would cost more than an untimely ejection from these halls. She pulls the long black horn from her saddlebags and holds it up as an offering. “You are Grogar the Necromancer, yes?”

He takes a long time to answer. “That is one of my titles, yes, for there is life to be found in death.”

“Please.” She pushes forward a little more. The impossibility of what she asks weighs on her, but there has to be a hope. “This is the horn of Sombra, who I loved. Can you… can you bring him back?”

He takes and inspects Sombra’s horn, ultimately setting it back in her outstretched hooves. “This is the horn of an Umbrum, a creature of shadow and darkness. He has deceived you, and-”

“No!” Radiant Hope shouts, slamming a hoof against the floor, ignoring how her hoof cracks and the tiles remain unbroken. “No! He wouldn’t have lied to me! He was a pony, I loved him, I wouldn’t have given all that I have for a lie!” She sinks as she weeps, letting Sombra’s horn roll from her grasp.

The horn stops at Grogar’s hoof. He picks it up, again taking a long look that ends with a heavy sigh. “You are motivated by Truth and Love,” he states, to which Radiant Hope nods over and over until her neck hurts. “It is… possible.” She can barely lift her head, his pensive gaze not focused on her or the horn but a thousand yards away. “He would not be as you remember, not fully; he would be stripped of his nature as a creature of darkness, instead imbued with the knowledge of Harmony and the consequences of his actions. Perhaps…”

Her breath catches in her throat as the possibility crystallizes in front of her. She wipes away the scalding tears. He would help?! What does he need…

She desperately looks around for why he has stalled, unable to find anything. “Would this help?” Radiant Hope pulls the heavy green bell from the pack at her side. She gently lays it down on the tiled floor, then takes a step back. She doesn’t want to give up the source of power, but if it helps bring her Sombra back?

“My Bewitching Bell.” Grogar frowns as he considers, the artifact clearly tempting him, though he makes no move to take it. “Celestia promised to return it to me, to concede defeat and assist in emblazoning all in Harmony’s name, once my task is complete. Why would Harmony lead it to me before I am finished?”

“Task?” she inquires. Her ears perk up as she boldly walks forward. If there is something he needs help with, something she can help with? “What task is that?”

Grogar grumbles deep in his throat as he regards her. “She did not inform you?”

Radiant Hope shakes her head, though Tempest Shadow comments, “She warned me against seeking you out. That it was a path that would only lead to ruin.”

“Ruin?” Grogar laughs from his belly, low and chortling. “This is the path of salvation. For why else are we put on this earth, but to find Harmony’s will?”

“Okay,” Radiant Hope says, not fully agreeing with his meaning of life but unwilling to disagree if it means she would be separated from Sombra. “Then what are you doing here?”

“I am deciphering Harmony’s will.” Grogar, seeing the incomprehension on the two mare’s faces, waves a hoof through the air. Dozens upon dozens of crimson and sapphire pieces come into existence, then intermingle and combine with each other to form simple shapes, following rules she doesn’t recognize. Patterns emerge as the shapes bifurcate and expand, with each copy growing in different ways.

“Truth and Love,” he explains, plucking one crimson piece and one sapphire from the turbulent mix, “serve as the foundation of our ethos.” He next chooses a simple sample of three darts arranged in a half-circle. “Every action we take furthers Harmony; or, it is incompatible with Honesty, Generosity, Loyalty, Kindness, Laughter, and Friendship. It is a choice set in front of each and every one of us: do we wish to act in accordance with Harmony, or do we wish to be separated from her?”

He copies the pattern of three darts; in one set he places another dart with the point inward, the circle now nearly complete, while in the other the dart is upside down and leaves nowhere for a piece to fill the pattern without making a gap.

“Furthermore,” he continues, motioning to the patterns that have increased to twenty tiles, some as large as fifty and still growing, “every situation we come across can be represented as one of these images. There will be correct ways to proceed, ways that are compatible with Harmony, and those that are not. Harmonic ways are those without gap or overlap. It may not be immediately apparent that one’s choice is incorrect, but the mistake will surely show itself.”

He demonstrates by taking two darts and lining them up so the point of one is inside the hollow of the other. Then, no matter how he places the next pieces, gaps form that he cannot fill.

“Ways that are not compatible may not be abided; they must be discovered, excised, and cast into the fire.” In each example the piece blocking the incorrect pattern dissolves into nothing, allowing tiles to complete the circle. “For only then will the proper way of life flourish.”

“I-is that why you called us infidels?” Radiant Hope shudders, hoping he doesn’t cast them into the fire.

Grogar nods, slow and solemn. “For all your intentions, you have not dedicated yourself to Harmony’s path. If any part of you would lead you away from the teachings of Harmony, it must be cast aside. Put to death the cravings of the flesh, for their reward is destruction and loss. Search what Harmony has written on your hearts and make it first and foremost in your mind.”

“I would,” Tempest Shadow asserts, stepping forward. She ignores how his head swivels to consider her, standing strong against his scrutiny. “If you would repair my horn, I would take an oath of service to you.”

“Not to me,” Grogar cautions. “Never to me. All that I am comes from Harmony, from Her teachings.”

“To Harmony, then,” Tempest Shadow corrects, her breath quickening. Her eyes grow large with anticipation, so close to finally achieving her goal. She bows her head, presenting the broken horn.

Grogar’s teeth set in a hard line, grumbling. “It is incomplete,” he says after a long, uncomfortable moment. “Celestia believes this must be the case; that one cannot come up with a finite set of actions or rules that will govern infinite situations. They must take into consideration the entirety of the other pieces; some additions, that may otherwise have worked, fail. She wishes for forgiveness to abound so they might continue to err!”

Golden bands wrap every tile, making five sets of parallel lines that extend through the patterns. Yet, even as pieces adhere to those new restrictions, some combinations become untenable.

He lets out a furious snort that Tempest Shadow gives a hearty nod. “While I perfect our knowledge, she allows suffering to flourish because she will not take the most basic of steps to ensure Harmony is considered!”

“Basic steps?” Radiant Hope inquires. Next to her Tempest Shadow growls, low and mean, at the mention of how Celestia has (in her eyes) wronged her.

“The Tenets of Harmony,” Grogar explains. “Honesty, Generosity, Loyalty, Kindness, Laughter, and Friendship. The pillars of pony society. Yet they are not exalted as such. Deceit and Greed are too frequently allowed to fester, their gains glorified and emulated to the detriment of all, including the one ‘profiting’ from their use. Betrayal and Malevolence provide an acceptable method of advancement while Despair and Apathy keep those in a position to right those wrongs from doing so. And this is in Equestrian society, to say nothing of the atrocities committed by those who have never accepted Harmonic ways as their own!”

“But she won’t?” Radiant Hope asks, confused. “Why not?”

Rather than explain with words Grogar turns and slowly walks down the hallway. The two mares easily follow, Radiant Hope grabbing the bell and horn.

The floor is patterned just as the room; in fact, every branching path they can see is tiled with sapphire and crimson. The individual rooms at the end of those paths have a thick gold line serving as a break between the room and the hallway, and each room starts with a central pattern that quickly diverges, making the layout of every room unique.

They come to a stop at the entrance to a massive chamber that must stretch for miles in every direction, the entirety sparkling with dimly lit blues and reds. Light gold rings, the size of the rooms they have passed, dot the landscape, seemingly at random. It takes their breath away, the magnitude of what has already been completed, and the idea that there must still be more remaining.

“For all I have labored these centuries,” Grogar says, seemingly disappointed by his progress, or perhaps lack thereof. “There remain situations that this world may present that I have not accounted for. Your actions and choices constrict the choices of those around you, as their choices constrict you. Imagine, for example, a plot of open farmland. Either of us may claim it, and it would be Harmonic if either of us do. But if we both lay claim to it, without coordinating with the other, there would be disharmony and resentment. And until I am able to account for all choices, those steps that seem basic do not remain so.”

“I don’t understand,” Radiant Hope says, staring out over the vast expanse. “Why would Celestia oppose a deeper understanding of Harmony?”

Grogar grumbles, or maybe that’s just the noise he makes when he’s thinking. “Our goal is for everycreature to make Harmonic decisions. She believes everycreature must come to that understanding herself. I would… I would make everycreature aware of the consequences of their actions. And if they knew those consequences, they would choose to act in accordance with Harmony, because it is only through Harmonic actions that we may all come together. But my understanding is incomplete.”

“But you know better!” Tempest Shadow whirls to face the Necromancer, the great room behind her. “You would show her the error of her ways!” She motions between Radiant Hope and herself, quick and full of energy. “Let us help you! Let us serve as, as, as acolytes of Harmony!” She yanks out the Bewitching Bell and thrusts it forward. “Use your full power, not restrained!”

Grogar stares at the two of them for a long, long time. Finally, he raises his eyes to the ceiling. Their gaze follows.

“Harmony.”

The single word echoes amidst the cavernous halls, growing louder and louder until it fills their ears with an intense ringing. Radiant Hope can feel her body, her mind, shifting. What once was an oppressive heat around her becomes the sun’s soft warmth on her coat, pleasant even deep underground.

“We beseech thee, as seekers after your blessing. We know that any request we have of you will be granted if it serves your purpose. We ask that you make us whole.”

With a roll of her jaw any thirst disappears, and her hunger, and any itching or craving or desire to flick her mane or tail. Her ears twitch, hearing a rattle despite the echo filling her ears and demanding her attention, a rattle of, of, of, of bones. Dry bones, screeching like hooves against a chalkboard as they scrape against each other. Her eyes remain on the ceiling, able to perceive out of the corners a swirling miasma of green, blue, and red.

The bell shatters, the light disappears, and the echo fades to nothing.

There, standing atop the broken remains of the Bewitching Bell, is a dark gray unicorn with an inky black mane.

“Sombra!!”

Radiant Hope rushes forward. She half expects to plow through her long-lost love, like he is just an illusion of dust and light to be scattered by the slightest touch. But she instead meets warm flesh, nothing like the clammy coat she would desperately heat with her touch during the Crystal Faire. She wraps her hooves around his rugged barrel and squeezes with everything she has, embracing and never intending to let go.

“Hope.”

The single word, the exact tone and timber that she remembers, has a somberness she has never heard in one whose name so resembled the word. She has to force herself to tear away from his thick neck and unbury herself from his flowing mane. She finds those crimson eyes of his, swirling full of light and love. His mouth hangs half-open, lips wet and waiting, exposing a pair of pointed fangs that she thought would disappear, but she leans forward to kiss them just the same.

“I’m sorry.”

It could have been either one of them, or perhaps both, but she’s too lost with a heady passion that threatens to rob her of her senses. She leans forward, silencing any further remorse with a chaste, questioning kiss. He returns it, modest as a colt kissing his dam, and tries to pull away. It infuriates her, that withdrawal, but not as much as the next thing he says.

“I didn’t-”

“It doesn’t matter,” she interrupts, shaking her head from side to side and loving the feel of her nostrils against his coat. She leans forward again, their lips meeting again, and this time he doesn’t resist, he doesn’t hold back, his warm embrace everything she ever dreamed it would be.

A few moments later and a low cough comes. Radiant Hope gives her love a mischievous, unrepentant smile as she pulls away, glancing at her companions.

Tempest Shadow stands next to Grogar, her horn made whole. Her chest is puffed forward, every bit the imperious commander she was under the Storm King. She begins to bend low but the large ram stops her; with a smooth motion he wipes clear any debris the shattering bell got on them, as well as the tears on Radiant Hope’s face, the four of them resplendent.

“Come,” Grogar commands the three horned followers. “There is much to be done.”

Next Chapter: Ch. 122 - Energy From Within, Part One Estimated time remaining: 12 Hours, 44 Minutes