To be honest, it wouldn't surprise me if this story doesn't turn out as well as I hoped. I think of a story and I write it out. I then look over it multiple times until I'm satisfied with what I had created.

Also, I typically dislike cursing in MLP stories because I think most of the time it's unnecessary.

May you find some enjoyment in reading.

Far across the world where Equestria inhabits lies a damp kingdom that hasn't seen the pure light of day in many years. A dark place with blood that soaks the soil, and cries of the powerless; the Kingdom of Galtair has always known depression and hopelessness. Galtair is a kingdom that withstood the test of time and survived the worst. It is always dark there; life is always bleak with dense silver mist that looms over the kingdom, and the citizens, or slaves, toil tirelessly to appease the one who looks over them with a cruel reign.

His name is Blackhorn, a unicorn who gazes delighted upon viewing the anemic common folk and calmed by their dismal faces. He punishes those who speak out of line, those who question him, and those who defy him. If one were to grow a backbone, they'd be met with either an exorbitant amount of torture or death outright: he always had a profound penchant for public executions, and often he would carry horrid deeds himself.

There's no execution too harsh: the despot's taken families, pets, children ranging from colts, fillies to baby griffins, and the even smaller dragons that happen to live under his dastardly rule.

Under Blackhorn's watch, the denizens of Galtair are too frightened to stand up to him and cast the blighter out for they fear his mystic powers. Blackhorn beholds the power to slowly turn his victims to stone and can set them to explode violently. There were only two instances where that happened, and it was to a mare and a filly.

With this dreadful power, none had dared step to the stallion... except for one who has had enough of Blackhorn's terrible rule. The only one who makes the tyrant's job tedious is a young stallion named Brightstone, a bastard child created by the less-than-favorable union of a wench and a fool.

He had enough of Blackhorn's brutal rule and vowed to take him down and save the Kingdom of Galtair. For many months turned to years, Brightstone found that no pony would assist him in dethroning Blackhorn, for fear had consumed them all, leaving the young stallion to battle him alone.

Blackhorn has always ruled the Kingdom of Galtair for many years, and yet, when a pony or creature even so much as to utter Brightstone's name, if they weren't a messenger, they were beaten senseless as a warning and sentenced to public execution if any creature, unfortunately, ignored his first warning.

Blackhorn despises Brightstone and even is careful when the young stallion peers his head around any corner. It puts the tyrant in a near-black mood.

No word has come of Brightstone until a scared messenger of the tyrant addressed the dark ruler, stating that he is in the main square of the town, calling out Blackhorn's name. Without delay, with his heart nearly racing, Blackhorn, gritting his teeth in anticipation, charges out of the comforts of his castle to confront Brightstone, eager to kill him once and for all.

It was a dark day with rain that lightly fell as Blackhorn entered the town square. There, he gazed upon the pearl-colored stallion glaring at him with vibrant green eyes the tyrant despised so much.

Blackhorn laughed, equipped with a polearm held by his magic. "The one who resists," he said delightfully, swinging his polearm around. "It is gracious you have presented yourself before me. I don't have to hunt you down."

Brightstone spat on the ground in front of Blackhorn, disrespecting the tyrant. "I've come to end your rule!" he yelled. "Too long have the creatures here suffered. The ones you murdered must be avenged. Too long have you not gotten your comeuppance!"

The sheer ferocity of Brightstone's anger and passion towards Blackhorn threw him nearly off-guard but quickly did the tyrant shrug off the young stallion's proclamation.

"You fool, you are one of none; not a single dreaded soul will stand by your damned suicide cause," Blackhorn retorted, cackling at Brightstone's face. "You are nothing but a bastard from the alleys! Your bitch of a mother lies beneath the very dirt you tread upon. If you cannot save that disgrace of a whore, you cannot save any creature! You will fail!"

"Vile murderer, you're full of hot air!" Brightstone spat crossly. "No creature around us will support or stand by your ugly actions! They cower in their homes and avoid your gaze. You may be a ruler, but you are not a king, and no creature here sees that in you!"

"QUIET!" Blackhorn shouts, glowering. "You will die just like your mother! Do you think you can defeat me? You're all wet, colt!"

Brightstone shook his head, smirking and chuckling to himself at Blackhorn's absurdity. "Enough pointless frivolity," he muttered under his breath. "There's a special place in Tartarus just for ponies like you. I'll happy to send you there!"

"You mean nothing!" Blackhorn growled.

With no other words being thrown in the brisk air, Blackhorn charges at the young stallion, gripping his polearm in an attempt to impale him, but narrowly misses.

"When I'm through with you, none in this kingdom will oppose me!" Blackhorn shouted, trying to rend Brightstone's flesh, but his endeavors were in vain, vexing him. "Stop moving, you little punk!"

Brightstone kept evading Blackhorn's rapid strikes, rolling on the ground and jumping in the air dodging him just barely. The young stallion could see the anger and hatred in Blackhorn as his eyes were like a beast's.

Blackhorn roared, yet laughter suddenly escaped his mouth at Brightstone for doing nothing but run away, berating the young stallion. Blackhorn slams the polearm on the wet ground to make a stunning impact that covers Brightstone's view of him as he goes for a kick and succeeds.

The tyrant knocks the stallion on the muddy soil and quickly follows up with an impaling strike, which just barely missed as Brightstone bucks him in the face, sending Blackhorn onto the ground in pain, rubbing his damaged jaw.

Blackhorn spits out blood that is absorbed by the wet soil and stands up slowly. "You're only prolonging the inevitable, mook!" Blackhorn's horn glows white, alerting Brightstone to his stone magic. "You think I just have some weapon? I have magic, mook! And I'm going to use it on you!"

A wave of black-colored magic shot forth from Blackhorn's horn. Brightstone tried to dodge the magical attack, but it hits him on his left hind leg, turning it into stone. Brightstone fell to the dirt and winced quietly in pain as Blackhorn slowly trots up to him with a wicked smile.

"When this polearm tears through your flesh and out your back, I will leave your festering corpse right here as a reminder to those who would dare oppose me!" Blackhorn shouts triumphantly, rising the sharp weapon above his head. "You'll be nothing but dust in the hallway!"

The evil despot began striking at Brightstone, missing each impale.

"It matters not how many times you move your body on this blood-stained earth! With you gone, I will have none oppose me! With you gone, I need not worry about some punk disrupting my rule. With you gone, I will be happy again!"

Blackhorn pins down Brightstone for a sure-shot stab to the heart, but just before the weapon would impale him, the young stallion uses his front hoof to deflect the strike, knocking Blackhorn off-guard.

The young stallion then strikes the wood of the polearm, breaking it in half before kicking Blackhorn to the ground again. Brightstone rolls and picks up a broken piece of the polearm and lunges at the tyrant. Blackhorn couldn't react fast enough and fell victim to Brightstone pinning him down and placing the splintered side of the broken polearm at his neck. He demanded Blackhorn not to move or the weapon would slit his throat.

Blackhorn had a fearful, yet angry look, breathing heavily from the rage he feels towards Brightstone, who was catching his breath after blocking a fatal blow.

"Get off of me!" Blackhorn shrieked, struggling to force Brightstone off his body. "You little mook... I will not be denied! I won't be beaten by garbage such as you. I am the king, your ruler, and you dare try to take my life?! Do you think my death will change anything? This kingdom was screwed over long before I got here. This place has no hope!"

Blackhorn began to yell like an animal in the face of his opposition. Brightstone shoved Blackburn's head against the damp soil, yelling back at the disdainful tyrant.

"You shut your gutless mouth, you detestable excuse for a king! Galtair can prosper in the right hooves, I know it can!" Brightstone punched Blackhorn in the face multiple times until blood poured from his mouth and nose. "You think this place has no hope?! I am the hope, you tyrant! These innocent creatures need a leader who won't murder or work them into the ground!"

Blackhorn laughed, choking on his blood. "And you think you're the one to lead them? Do you know what you are, mook?" he spat. "You are my son! Do you think these pitiful fools will follow a pony whose blood is of his father's? Follow a pony who kills his kin? Your mother was nothing but a whore, a harlot I bred with; your whole existence is damned, and you will not lead this kingdom! It is far too late!"

Brightstone smacked Blackhorn's face into the dirt. The tyrant spat out wet dirt and grit as he glared defiantly at his son. All around the two stallions, the rain began to fall harder, looking like falling shards in a sea of glass.

"It is not too late!" Brightstone shouted at Blackhorn. "You and the others who came before were ill-equipped and evil. I may be inexperienced, but I would never control this kingdom through fear! It is high time this kingdom knew love and peace!"

Blackhorn snickered and cried out, "This place is beyond saving, colt! All you see is nothing but walking corpses who don't know they're dead yet. Nothing will change, it never will. It's a fool's errand..."

"Then I'm a fool," Brightstone said with finality, raising the broken polearm in the air. "I will have a change."

"Welcome to the top of the food chain, mook."

With his final words uttered, Blackhorn is stabbed multiple times in the heart. He screamed and shouted in agony, blood filling his throat; he choked and writhed under the ferocity of Brightstone's ruthlessness before going limp; dead.

Brightstone rolled off of his dead father and lay next to him, the blood from his cut hoof washed away. The rain was now a light shower as the clouds began to gradually separate, having light from the sun slowly breakthrough, shining on him. He gets to his hooves and wobbles before steadying himself and looking at the opening sky.

The civilians of Galtair quietly came out and saw Brightstone laying down with the dead king Blackhorn, his face twisted in a pained sneer as his glazed eyes stared lifelessly to the sky. They trot toward Brightstone and stared in surprise and awe. The king's son smiled and looked towards the sky.

He looked at their weary faces, and for once, he saw something other than fear and sadness. There was hope in their tired eyes. Hope that change may finally steer them towards a future. He saw their eyes widen at the sunlight gradually gracing their dark kingdom and none of them could remember the last time daylight had broken through the churning gray clouds.

"The light of the sun finally breaks through the clouds, and the mist is fading away," he quietly said. "It will shine on our kingdom forevermore. This kingdom begins a new age for itself!"