Heavy eyes surveyed the civilization before him. Built under his instructions, Sombra's Empire now spanned a large portion of the deserts, yet he couldn't have achieved this without the aid of his Queen, Inky Rose, nor the priestess-turned Sphinx named Somnambula, who helped direct him behind-the-scenes and acted as sacred guardian to the land and its people.

From the side of the pyramid where he stood the sun bore down on his half-naked musculature, wearing the skirt-like attire that was custom of the culture, a silver crown adorned on his skull. A hot wind traced his pecs. His ear twitched at a swish behind him, they sway of Inky Rose's transparent costume announcing her presence, silks swaying when she arrived beside him.

You seem troubled,” murmured Inky who pressed her equally silky flesh to his, holding onto his arm and laying her head on his shoulder. She still wore her dark mane in braids, and kept her plume pressed close to her slender back.

He forced a smile onto his saturnine features, felt the soft crush of her breasts upon his chiseled chest. His snout pressed to hers, and she cooed into his wet, sensuous kiss. “It's probably nothing,” he admitted when their mouths withdrew in a trail of saliva. “The Necronomicon has been stirring, like the Demiurge is determined to break free...and I dread that it might one day succeed.” He held her to him. “Sometimes, I consider that we might seek outside help...”

“You mean Beatrix Belladonna,” she noted and he nodded. “But will she answer Somnambula's summons?”

“I don't know. And I'd rather not summon my apprentice on a false alarm. Much as I'd enjoy her company, we have our own lives to lead, and I prefer to take care of my own troubles.” He pursed his lips, proud of his people and children, who toiled away but were nonetheless content. His expression softened. “For now, let us indulge ourselves.”

Inky smirked when he cupped her bottom and squeezed, barely contained under a thin veneer of silk. “Make love to me my King,” she whispered huskily into his ear, which she nipped, her half-lidded eyes heavy in stylized makeup.

Scooped into his toned arms, she giggled and clasped her wings to him, and he reentered the pyramid carrying her bridal-style. They passed corridors lit by torches on sconces and lined in hieroglyphics, past bare-chested stallions who stood in silent vigil with spears in hand, and bare-breasted handmaidens who wore transparent gowns below, each picked by Inky for their beauty.

Up the tunnels they ascended to their bedroom near the apex. She continued to kiss him with soft coos, hands clasped around his neck, and he hungrily returned her fervor, tongues dancing as he almost stumbled in their eagerness.

“Father? Oh, sorry!” Cerise Silhouette stepped out of their path, his pigtailed daughter with dark fur like him, and the neon pink mane no doubt from her late mother, Pacific Glow. “I didn't mean to interrupt you!”

“It's no trouble,” said Inky who was gently set down on her feet. “What may we do for you?”

Cerise hesitantly looked between them. “W-well...I'm not sure exactly, but I want to be more useful to you! My siblings have accomplished so much, running parts of the country for you, but me? All I really know how to do is dance!”

Sombra smiled patiently. “We expect nothing more. These are peaceful times. You enjoy the fruits of the alliance's victory.”

“It's not fair, though. I know I'm not the brightest, but I'd like to chip in somehow, too.” She coiled a tied lock around a slender hand, her slender yet shapely figure contained in a scanty, bikini-like hot pink number. Attached to it were a few small bells that jingled when she moved. “Maybe I can help entertain guests who come here? Let me show you something. Can you dim the lights?” Sombra nodded, and with a flare of his horn deepened the shadows, the darkness snuffing out the torches with a hiss.

Entombed in darkness, Cerise began to wave her ample hips, arms upraised. Her bright eyes shined in the dark, her face suddenly drawn in concentration, Her breasts and buttocks swaying, barely contained with her sensual, deliberate movements that hypnotized even these two under her spell. Piece-by-piece, she removed her garments and let them fall.

Dancing naked before them, Cerise's thin coat began to light up in splotches of neon colors, like she'd been doused in spray paint to further accentuate her supple flesh. Heat radiated from her, the pair captivated.

Sombra realized he was falling into a trance, not unlike the mind control he'd placed upon his crystal pony slaves so long ago. Could she be working the dart arts too, unintentionally? It seemed absurd. She hadn't studied them, and it went against her earth pony nature. Yet a theory he'd long held replayed in his mind about her true nature, one he'd shared with Inky.

Could she really be a partial reincarnation of Pacific Glow? Perhaps some of his darkness had passed onto Cerise, when he'd impregnated her mother? She stopped her dance, beaming with pride and shyly recovering her scattered clothes with a small blush. He felt a newly found responsibility for her, and like Inky couldn't help but feel he'd failed to protect her mother.

“Most impressive indeed. You wish to help me?” She nodded at him. “Very well. Return in an hour.” He pulled Inky to him by the waist, making it clear they needed to satisfy their own needs first, so their heads might be clearer once the stresses of ruling bled away. “You can help me check on the Necronomicon in the tombs below. There's a theory I wish to test...”

A volcano in the Badlands erupted. The sky shook and lava dribbled down its sides, rocks tossed about in the hellish rocky lands. From the smoking depths arose a dragon that matched the fallen Torch in size, this one with shiny purple scales, his leathery wings unfurled to a massive span, spiny tail lashing, nostrils flared with wispy grayish-black and eyes burning.

Having risen to the position of Dragon Lord, Spike sacrificed himself for the love of his people. His faithful retainers, Twilight Sparkle, Ember, and Smolder had buried him here, in hopes that a fable among dragons was true. Yet the promised rebirth was said to take centuries, possibly millenniums. Yet a quirk of the magic Somnambula used to unlock his potential now quickened his rebirth, but at a deadly price. Rather than be reborn as an egg, he blossomed to his full hulking size, mind swallowed up.

He howled skyward, his musculature flexing, surveyed a familiar land he didn't understand anymore on pure instinct. All he knew was something had gone awry, that he needed to locate someone that could give him answers. Familiar faces flashed in his mind, those of Twilight, Ember, Smolder, Somnambula, and Sombra in particular.

With another splitting cry he leaped up and beat his wings in flight, sailing in the crimson atmosphere. Molten rivers bubbled below, lava hardened and cooled, some still dripping off his form, more explosions thundering,

Most of his followers now lived underground, in an evergreen paradise cultivated by two of his lovers, Fluttershy and Tree Hugger. He vaguely recalled them, and so many others, some lost in a war with the Eldritch.

Wandering aimlessly, he sniffed the ashen air, stretched thick muscles covered in armor-like hide, his snout rumbling through jaws that opened wide and spat an inferno that made the heated air twist further. Embers danced between rows of teeth, his soft underbelly boiling inside, what consciousness there warring with predatory needs and a desire to reclaim what was his...

Grunting, Sombra thrust into his love with a certain desperation, and she mewled under him, ensnaring him with her plumage, her nails digging into his chiseled back lined in sweat, her legs crossed around his buttocks to pull him deeper into her. Her heavy breasts gleamed with perspiration beads under the thin lamp light, and she wetly kissed him, the squish of her moist pussy sounding each time his cock speared her, their mixed juices dripping down the curve of her ass and over its pink, puckered hole.

He peppered her wide nipples in pecks, erect and darkened after she bore their children. A combined, overpowering musk from both of them suffused the interior, their heads swimming in a drunken amorous stupor. Whatever urges he maintained to dominate and conquer she gleefully satisfied, allowing him to shred her garments and ravish her daily to his heart's content.

She adored how full he made her feel, empty without him inside her, completing her. He stuffed her, tickled her slippery foalhole, brushed over her spongy g-spot, making her whine and wiggle below his chest, lined in stringy dark fur tufts.

Sometimes he would take her right in front of his guards, who tried to remain stoic despite their visible erections, and the handmaidens, exotic beauties which Inky often invited into their bed to spice up their marriage.

Age hadn't slowed either of them down. In fact, it left them more ravenous than ever before.

Their lips repeatedly met, chewing on each other, his hands wandering over her soft flesh, greedily kneading them. “I love you,” he growled with lust, feeling that no matter how much he said it that was never enough.

She smiled and tightened around him, milking him, his voice and affection the greatest aphrodisiac to her, not that he remotely lacked for physical prowess. Her pulsing pink walls nursed his vein-lined tool, his flare embedding itself in her cervix, and she came first with a muffled cry, gushing over his loins. With a grunt he joined in, slamming himself balls deep and unloading in spurts that washed over her convulsing walls. “Ah...mmph...” She whimpered in quiet glee, squeezing out the last drops.

Inky panted under him. “M-much as I'd like to do this all day, we're almost late for our appointment.”

He brushed her gray cheek and tangled braids. “...yes.” He wanted to stay buried in her, and from the way her slit occasionally clenched on him, knew she wished the same. But with reluctance they withdrew their ragged forms, his still mostly erect penis popping loose of her wide hole, oozing with a messy white murk that dribbled down her inner thighs.

Quickly she hastened to wash them with a basin, toweled them down, and redressed him and then herself. Just in time, as a knock sounded at the chamber door. She opened it to see Diamond Tiara and Cozy Glow, dressed in a similar but fancier manner to the other handmaidens, and the pair smiled with a bow. “Somnambula awaits you,” they announced as one.

Leading the way, they descended down to the tombs where the pharaohs lay in sarcophagi, the spirits there to help watch over the Necronomicon. Past the piles of treasure, their golden glow shimmering in the torchlight, stood the Sphinx named Somnambula, sacred guardian who had inherited a similar form and duties from her closest, now deceased companion.

Slit eyes studied them, Somnambula settled on all fours, wings pinned to her feline back. Her large head rested on her front paws, and her leonine tail flicked about. “Welcome back,” she purred with Cerise already at her side. “I have sent a summons to Beatrix, but do not know if she will put in an appearance. Rising and stretching, she said, “Follow me.”

Previous rulers were carved into the sarcophagi that lined the way, and the light gave way to shadows further in, until they arrived at a stand where the dark tome sat. The Necronomicon was woven in stitched together, mummified flesh, the faces of the Eldritch a patchwork forever frozen in their final alien screams. Its embroidered surface pulsed at his approach.

His eye trailed over it and Cerise, noticed it pulsated more in her presence, like it sensed the darkness in her and her naivety. Even with all the powerful spells woven around it, and the spirits nearby to quell its potential, still it tried to compel her to grab it and set it free, so the Demiurge trapped in its labyrinthine pages might be loosed to bring death and chaos across dimensions.

“This may be a mistake,” he muttered to himself.

“It's horrible,” whispered Cerise who nevertheless stared without blinking with her wide, bright eyes, mesmerized. Inky gazed too, its hypnotic effect similarly trying to lure her in, while unlike them the Sphinx appeared completely lucid.

The spell was broken when the air itself split, reality opened into a bluish-white oval that hovered in the air which rippled around it. From this tear emerged a heeled boot, shimmering like the coat of an ursa minor, the attire coming to the shapely bare thigh that peeked out with a long stride. Beatrix Belladonna skipped out with a flourish, starry cape clasped by a stylized eye at the neck, her shapeliness clad in a high-cut leotard, her platinum hair with a violet tinge topped by a witch's hat.

“Sorry we're late!” She could have been her mother Trixie Lulamoon's twin, the tall unicorn wearing fingerless gloves that came to her upper arms. Her cleavage had a comical bounce, her lips drawn in a playful smirk, her skin a light violet and her eyes a darker shade. She called over her shoulder, “Hey Bellatrix, you're still there, aren't you...?”

Behind her arrived an angel with radiant pale skin, golden locks, and seraphic feathers, a halo above her head. Her bright blue eyes settled on them when she slunk through, garbed in a white lacy one piece that resembled lingerie. “We've returned,” announced Bellatrix Primadonna, former succubus-turned-angel by a holy book once wielded by Sombra. “My, you all appear well.” She traced her porcelain cheek with meticulously manicured nails. “So, what is the occasion? Pleasure, or...?”

“Business, I fear.” Sombra shook his head and managed a small smile at them as Beatrix closed the rift with a finger waggle.

“The Necronomicon,” said Bellatrix with pursed lips when they all turned back to study it. “Has the Demiurge escaped?”

“Thankfully no,” said Inky. “But we fear it might be necessary to travel into it and calm its growing power. I hear you're the expert.” She'd been told a number of tales by Sombra amidst their pillow talk of his past misdeeds within its pages.

“Hmmm...” Beatrix bent over for a closer look and scratched her chin in thought. “If this is similar to the former Necronomicon, there could be countless dimensions inside!” She managed a giddy giggle, simultaneously curios for the adventure it offered, and repulsed by the possible horrors. “I'm willing to try, but I'll need a team.”

Bellatrix sighed. “I suppose I'll help,” she said in a haughty manner and gave a dismissive, dainty wave.

“I too wish to explore its innards,” admitted Sombra who met his wife's frown. “Worry not, you're more than capable of running this land in my absence, and I'm certain Diamond Tiara and Cozy Glow shall be happy to assist.”

“That's not the problem.” Inky clasped him possessively. “What if you never return...?”

“For you my love, I would storm the deepest parts of the underworld,” he assured cupping her cheek and meeting her worried gaze. Yet it was more than his flesh she feared for, but his very soul, like he might be tempted by that darkness and fall into old ways. “I've learned my lesson well. The darkness will always be a part of me, but it does not define me..”

Inky nodded once with watery eyes. “That's all I needed to hear.” Gently he kissed her thick-lashed eyelids closed.

“Awww~” Beatrix beamed at the couple, hands clasped behind her back. “We'll need more than that, though! I usually had a team of around five or so...” Starlight Glimmer, the one from her world, had in particular been instrumental!

Somnambula said, “I too shall come. Magic alone can only take one so far. You will need muscle as well.” She opened a large paw and flashed her claws and razor teeth, her massive bulk layers of sensuous curves on lithe muscles. “We may need to seek outside recruits. Mere soldiers shall not do, as the ones we have here lack the experience dealing with such evil.”

Contemplating all their options, Sombra returned to the now split alliance, their ties still close. Most of them were retired or had other duties that made it unlikely they could come to their aid. Assuming they would help him, who to choose? Fleur de Lis was quite skilled an active despite her age, but deep down she probably still resented him for how he'd treated her and Fancy Pants.

Vinyl Scratch and Octavia? Now a traveling band who had set aside their weapons. Twilight Sparkle, Ember, and Smolder? Possible, although they weren't exactly close friends with him. Shining Armor and Cadance were busy ruling the Crystal Empire, the latter and their daughter still partially crippled by what Chrysalis did, so they were likely out of the question.

Trixie would surely rush to aid Beatrix...but he wondered if she'd be more trouble than she was worth. Yet a shared look with Beatrix and he knew she was already ahead of him, desperate to be reunited with her family here.

“Very well,” he said. “I will send a request to Miss Lulamoon.”

“Tee-hee...if you want,” tittered Beatrix with a wink, barely able to contain a child-like enthusiasm.

Suddenly the Necronomicon rose from the column, its dried pages fluttering opened where it hovered, each inscribed with ancient runes that even Somnambula struggled to discern, pictures of various demons within the grimoire. Somnambula pounced into action with a hiss, repelled by an invisible barrier that hurtled her back into a bed of gold coins that bounced up.

The mages on hand acted almost as quickly, falling into a familiar pattern despite all the time that had passed, Sombra acting as focal point as he weaved a spell with chants, hand gestures, and a glowing horn, Beatrix and Bellatrix dropping all pretense to support him, knowing that if the Demiurge escaped the nightmare that devastated this Equestria could begin anew.

From the book arose a series of black tendrils. They coalesced around an obsidian shape, massive and horse-like, trying to birth itself from its confines. “No, it cannot be,” whispered Somnambula between her teeth. “I am the last of the Pillars! You-”

The shadows lashed out, seized Cerise Silhouette, who screamed and writhed. “S-so cold...”'

Sombra and his companions launched their spell, but were forced to restrain the destructive, combined elemental force, lest they slay the hostage. Flames licked at tendrils which smoldered, some were frozen and shattered, others lanced apart by shrieking winds, but the shadowy intruder withdrew into the pages, Cerise in tow when the Necronomicon slammed shut and went still.

Inky called, “Cerise~!” Tears leaked down her face, twisted in a pained grimace, and she spread her wings to fly forward.

“No!” Sombra barred her way and seized her, stroked her hair to console her. She shook in his arms, face warped between grief and fury, heart hammering and fists clenched then unclenched. “There's nothing we can do right now.”

“But...but we can't simply abandon her!” She tried to calm herself, aware she wasn't being rational, yet her mind raced with all the horrible fates that might befall her. “What if he devours her soul? What if we can't get her back...?”

“I shall. This, I swear.” His hands gripped her upper arms, aware that to her she was like having her friend Pacific Glow back, that to lose her would be to fail her again. “There's no time to waste. Will you chance it for Cerise's sake?”

“We're with you,” said Bellatrix who nodded with Beatrix. The aftermath of the spells settled, the air still hot and cold in certain areas, a wind whistling through. Otherwise, there was but eerie silence, each step and movement echoing.

Somnambula called, “Diamond Tiara, Cozy Glow, I leave this all in your hands. Send out messages to the alliance informing them of the situation and request aid.” They bowed, and she padded up to Beatrix, who opened the tome. Its surface was cool to the touch, and she flipped through, trying to guess the pages the creature had arose from off her memory. “Here,” said the priestess who pointed with a nail. “All we need do is concentrate, and it shall do the work for us. Pray we succeed.”

The travelers formed a small circle, and were sucked into the Necronomicon, their likenesses appearing in stylized forms within the dried flesh parchment. Next to it was the fabled 'Pony of Shadows', an abomination encased in supernatural darkness...