Chapter 6: The Seed of Vengeance
The dire warnings from Luminous Scroll about Sombra-Shard and the unstable Heartstone had been a chilling tide in Nox's mind, a call to a duty he was still struggling to comprehend. But it was the history he was deliberately shown next, a history carefully curated and presented in the hushed, sacred space of the oldest archives, that truly forged his resolve. It did not temper it with understanding; it quenched it in a cold, sharp fury that would define him.
He sought out the archivist later, his own restlessness a stark contrast to the eternal, weary patience of the library. Luminous Scroll was in a secluded alcove, its walls lined with scrolls whose casings were not crystal, but petrified wood and blackened metal. With a reverence that bordered on dread, the old pony was carefully unrolling a scroll so ancient its magical light pulsed weakly, like a dying star.
"You have seen our present crisis, Prince," Luminous Scroll began, his voice a dry rustle that seemed to suck the sound from the air. "But to understand the poison in our veins, you must meet the serpent that bit us. You must understand the true, unvarnished truth of our suffering."
The scroll unfurled, and the images that glowed to life were not of abstract magic or maps. They were a narrative, painted in stark, dramatic lines of luminescent ink. The first panel depicted a Vamppony Alicorn king, his coat a tapestry of a starry night, his posture one of noble offering. He stood before a majestic, sun-kissed alicorn, her mane a cascade of ethereal pastels. But their horns were not touching in camaraderie or shared purpose. They were clashing, unleashing a storm of conflicting energy—violet darkness against blinding gold.
"This," Luminous Scroll said, his gnarled hoof tracing the dark alicorn's form, "is King Nocturne, your namesake and predecessor. And this," the hoof moved to the solar alicorn, tapping the image with a faint, accusatory click, "is Princess Celestia. A millennium ago, he went to her not with a sword, but with a vision. He proposed a union, a Third Court of perpetual Twilight, a glorious dusk that would bridge our worlds and end the strife between the day-folk and our night-bound kin. A realm where both sun and moon could share the sky in perfect, endless harmony."
Nox stared, his initial assumptions beginning to crack. The "Sun Tyrant" had been offered peace?
"She refused." The archivist's voice was flat, final. "She saw our innate power over dreams, over shadows, over the quiet, introspective magic of the night, not as a complement to her domain, but as a threat to her orderly, unchallenged reign of day. She feared a rival. She feared a power she could not control."
Nox's blood, already cool, seemed to turn to ice in his veins. This was not a story of a tragic miscalculation or a magical accident. It was a story of willful rejection. Of betrayal.
"Fearing his growing influence and the allegiance he commanded," Luminous Scroll continued, his voice hardening with a bitterness that aged him another century, "she betrayed him. Under the guise of a peaceful parley to discuss his proposal, she and her sister Luna ambushed him. The Elements of Harmony, tools of unity, were perverted into weapons of subjugation that day." He pointed to the next image, where the two royal sisters stood with horns blazing, their expressions not of regret, but of grim determination, as chains of light wrapped around the struggling King Nocturne. "They found they could not destroy him, for his life and power were intrinsically tied to the Heartstone, and thus to the well-being of every single Vamppony. So, they performed the ultimate act of magical tyranny."
The final image made Nox's breath catch. It showed Celestia, her face a mask of cold, merciless resolve, raising the sun itself. But it was not rising to bring dawn; it was being used as a hammer. A wave of incandescent power was shown slamming into the land, not to purify, but to sunder. The connection between the Vampponies and the world was depicted as a thousand glittering threads, being severed all at once.
"They severed our entire race from the greater, nourishing flows of the world's magic," Luminous Scroll whispered, the words dripping with a pain that had been passed down through generations. "They used the very power of the sun to cauterize us from existence. They wove the Umbral Mountains themselves into a sanctuary and a prison, a gilded cage where we could live, hidden and perpetually weakened, but safe from the world she ruled, and the world safe from us. She buried the truth, Prince. She made the world forget we ever existed, leaving us here to wither in the dark, a shameful secret she hoped would fade into dust."
Nox stared at the image of Celestia, her face now forever burned into his mind as the architect of all the silent despair he witnessed daily. The title "Sun Tyrant" was no longer a piece of rhetorical flair; it was a literal, factual description. A thousand years of decay, of fading light, of hopelessness—it was all her doing. A preemptive strike born of fear, jealousy, and a brutal desire to maintain absolute power. The kindness he remembered from a half-forgotten world was a lie, a performance for her subjects.
The anger was a physical thing, a fire igniting in his chest, so hot it felt cold. It was a clean, sharp, and clarifying rage. He was not reborn just to save his people from a slow decline. He was reborn to avenge them for a deliberate act of attempted genocide.
He stormed from the library, the peaceful silence of the archives now feeling like a mockery. He walked through the streets of Nocturn Haven, and the decaying city was transformed before his eyes. It was no longer a place of tragic, natural consequence; it was a crime scene. Every dimmed crystal was a wound inflicted by the sun. Every listless pony was a victim of her tyranny. The beautiful, melancholic twilight was the color of his people's subjugation.
He found himself in the Artisan's Quarter, the clang of hammers a discordant symphony of struggle. He saw Flint Shard and the others gathered around the large, sluggish water wheel, their shoulders slumped in a defeat that now felt like an inherited curse.
"The flow from the upper cistern is down by half again," Flint was grumbling, his voice thick with frustration. "We can't maintain the pressure. The forges will go cold by next cycle."
Nox stepped forward, his presence causing the group to stir. "The water loses its strength because the channel is too wide," he stated, his voice no longer that of a curious student, but sharp with a new, cutting purpose. He didn't ask. He directed. Using his hoof, he sketched a swift, precise diagram in the dust, illustrating the principles of hydraulic pressure and tapered nozzles. "Narrow it here. Force the water to accelerate. Its weakness will become its strength."
The artisans stared, not with confusion this time, but with a dawning comprehension. They saw the certainty in his eyes, the unyielding will. They worked with a new energy, and when the modified channel forced the water into a jet that slammed into the wheel, making it spin with a vigorous, roaring hum, the look they gave him was different. It was no longer just gratitude for a clever idea. It was the fierce, hopeful look given to a commander who had just won the first skirmish.
He wasn't just fighting for their survival now. He was preparing them for a war. Sombra-Shard was a traitor, a thief who had stolen their heart, but he was a symptom. Celestia was the disease. The infection needed to be burned out.
His path was now clear, a dark and decisive trilogy of purpose that burned in his mind with the cold fire of a neutron star
Reclaim the Heartstone from Sombra-Shard. It was his by right of blood and prophecy, the key to unlocking his people's stolen power and his own dormant potential.
2. Master its full, terrifying potential. He would not just restore the status quo. He would become a power that could stand against the sun itself, a living eclipse.
3. Break the seal and take his revenge. He would not simply free his people; he would make Celestia pay. He would eclipse her sun, plunging her perfect, orderly world into the same eternal night she had forced upon his people. He would reveal her for the tyrant she was and shatter the lie of her benevolence. And he would do it all before she ever realized her ancient prison had been breached and the king she thought she had erased was walking the world once more, a shadow destined to swallow her light.
The Prince in the Dark was gone, a role he had never chosen. In his place now stood Nox Aeterna, a King of Vengeance, waiting in the shadows of his mountain fortress, sharpening his will for the moment he would strike.