Shaded Arcana

. The only fitting word comes to Verdant's mind as he ascends the crystal spire. Floor after floor of cobwebs is only part of it- some of the things he'd seen the past few hours predated the founding of Equestria. Perhaps predating even the first coming of the windigos! Where would you even find a thunderbird eye in the present day? Nevermind the fact that they've been extinct for at least two thousand years, thunderbirds  resided in the area Equestria occupies! And yet Verdant stops his ascent for but a moment in some alchemical storage room, spotting one such eye just sitting there in a jar. Perhaps preserved by an enchantment, or perhaps by how many floors up it is in a windowless tower.  He dares not to speak to himself louder than a whisper, for fear of breaking something already close to crumbling with age. He's always known memory loss was a possibility- he is ancient in his own right- and often a fact. Pony minds just can't hold more than two centuries of memory reliably, let alone a full millenia. But this... It goes well beyond memory loss. Losing this much history might as well be an identity death. To have no records, it must be intentional wiping. To say nothing of the fact that he remembers Equestria even from when he was a foal! A young colt! One of his assumptions must be false, his memories being accurate or his ownership of the tower. To his despair, however, the higher he ascends, the more sure he becomes it's the former. A feeling deep in his gut, a tickle at the back of his mind, like long abandoned memories are clawing desperately at a locked door to escape their non-existence. This tower- , the voice that beckoned him here supplies, seeming as an afterthought- belongs to him. To Verdant Shade, or another name he fails to remember holding. He walks slowly to the middle of the room, careful not to disturb what lies upon the ground. Taking a deep breath, Verdant Shade sits down for the last time. Removing his saddlebags and his cloak, he sets them by the writing podium. Streaks further darkened in the already grey coat of his cheeks, Ver wipes his eyes with his left hoof. "It's... It ha-had to happen eventually, right?" Nodding to himself, "Of course. This... This was always the plan, I-I just didn't know it.." And so he lights his horn. He might not know the ultimate effect of the channeling circle he sits within, but the basis is obviously close to the spell he uses to absorb souls. Verdant knows where to start, which symbols to imbue first. The intertwining decagons awaken, the moonstone shards lighting with power. Next the triangle of triangles, clay paste glittering with almost more ruby dust than clay. The circle itself binding the ingredients, lapis shards and salt. A few arcane symbols in the corners of the circle- just chalk, the symbols alone providing enough direction... And then he screams with fear and pain both as the souls he'd accumulated within his own over the centuries are torn out, flying back down the tower to a storage room he'd overlooked as unimportant. Trapped in enchanted jars. Leaving the soul of the pony formerly Verdant Shade a hollow, screaming husk. Echoing the gradual tearing of his bodies vocal cords all through the tower and into the sky high above the clouds. A body with a shattered soul. Not even truly alive anymore. Still , as the final symbol, a skull of obsidian embedded in the floor, glows green, letting off a purple arcane mist. Shrouding the former body of Verdant Shade, a body with a soul hollow. A body perfect for the broken king.