//------------------------------// // 33: Ghosts of the Past // Story: Darkened Shores // by Silver Flare //------------------------------// When the last of the light winked out, the void it left behind filled with sound. Loud? Loud is a word used to describe dropped pans and arguments. The sound of miles of rock exploding into dust and pebbles was an unbearable castrophony, and Pin Feather was only vaguely aware that he had clamped his limbs ineffectually over his ears. At least he thought he did. It wasn't even so much sound as it was a primal force that filled the infirmary until there was no room left for him. He thought the noise alone might rend him limb from limb. Every other sense was blotted out by the terrible noise. He probably tried screaming something, but by all rights he couldn't tell whether or not he actually did. Eventually, imperceptibly, the noise began to recede to merely deafening. Pin Feather became aware of the floor pressed against his cheek, and his back was shoved painfully up against the cabinets. He shifted, dislodging several soft packs of unopened gauze he hadn't realized he'd been sprinkled with. As he lifted his head, he became aware of a weight against his face. Reaching up, he found a drawer hanging off his horn. As he lifted it carefully off his face, he became aware of just how dark it was; having a drawer over his eyes made absolutely no difference whatsoever. With his eyes as wide as he could open them, he still caught no glimmer of light, no dim outlines, not even a suggestion of space. “Shade?” He asked aloud, although he could barely hear his own soft voice over the constant grumble of shifting stone. He tried feeling his way forward. “Shade. Are you-” His head hit the corner of the table. “Gow!” He lurched a step to the side, his hooves coming down on something feathered. “Ah! Watch it!” Skan's voice. The shape jerked backwards. “Sorry.” Pin Feather skipped back, catching himself on the invisible table edge as the room swayed around him. “I'm used to being able to see.” “We're all used to being able to see, you dense hatch-stain.” “Surely what he means,” Sun Shade's disembodied voice dripped scorn through the darkness. “Is that he is accustomed to being able to see in the dark, as we cannot.” Pin Feather released a tense breath. “Well yeah, technically. I can see well only in extremely low light, as the multifaceted lenses in my eye can detect trace wavelengths. . .” “And now I regret speaking in your defense.” Sun Shade added laconically. “At least I know we're not dead.” Skan growled. “The afterlife can't possibly be the two of you bickering for all eternity. Sky? Sky, where are ya?” “I'm right here.” Clear Sky spoke. “What in Celestia's name is happening?” “Oh, that's right. . .” Sun Shade breathed. “You all were below decks when we crashed, weren't you? You hadn't seen the, uh. . .” Pin Feather jumped in. “If it's all the same to you, Shade, I'm trying really hard not to think about the big picture right now.” “Why?” Clear Sky sounded worried, but not nearly as worried as he could have been. “What's happening?” Nobody answered him. “Gimmie a sec.” Pin Feather focused for a moment, and a soft green glow began to emanate from the gnarled horn on his forehead. “There we go. I haven't practiced this spell in ages.” The light fell upon six blinking eyes and the supplies that had been emptied over their heads. They appeared spectral in the light, ghosts of who they once were. Shade pulled herself carefully to her hooves and said, “Green, Pin Feather? Could you possibly try a different color, maybe one less dreadfully stereotypical?” He wondered if maybe he should have been offended. Thistle would have known. “Uh, no? It's just the one color.” “Pity.” Sun Shade helped the others to their feet. “How's our charge?” He'd already turned his horn towards the bed, sweeping it gently back and forth over the earth pony. He plucked a few odd bandages and a pair of steel instruments off of her, but the IV remained attached and dripped steadily. Her heart continued to beat. “Green across the board, Captain.” He quipped in his relief. A microsecond later his stomach dropped into his hooves, and he spun back towards Sun Shade in dismay. Pain crawled across her face as she squeezed her eyes shut, the pale green light making her soft features look ill. Pin Feather grimaced. “Shade, I'm. . .” She swallowed hard, mastering herself with a breath. “It's okay. I'm. . . he's gone.” “It's not okay.” Pin Feather buzzed, his shoulders slumping. “None of anything is okay. Literally nothing is okay.” “Ain't that the honest truth.” A voice mumbled. Pin Feather glanced through every face in the room before spinning back to the bed. Applejack blinked blearily in the dim glow. “AJ, hey, how're ya feeling?” He asked solicitously. “No no no, don't get up.” A gentle limb on her good shoulder pinned Applejack down. “Ugh.” She acquiesced with a low groan. “Anypony catch the license plate on that bag of tractors?” “Oh, here, your metaphors are all messed up. Let me get you something for the pain.” Pin Feather reached up and began rummaging through a high cabinet. “Drat. It's all tossed around in here. . . hmmmmm.” He came back down with a syringe. He popped the plastic tip off with a practiced motion and leaned in. Until an orange-coated hoof stopped him. Applejack's emerald eyes struggled into focus as she blinked. “Wait, who in the blazes let you free, bug-eyes?” She muttered, incredulous. Sun Shade appeared at her side. “That was my decision, I'm afraid. Keeping our best medic under lock and key seemed trifling and petty, considering the circumstances.” “Well,” Applejack eyed the changeling carefully. “It's about time somepony started makin' sense around here.” The corners of her mouth turned up the tiniest bit. “Welcome back, uh. . .” “Just call me Pin Feather. Honestly, it's kinda what I'm used to.” “Fair enough.” She nodded slowly and immediately stopped, her eye twitching in pain. “Okay. . .” He indicated the syringe with a tilt of his horn. “Now, if you trust me. . .” “No.” Applejack grimaced. “Ah mean yes. Mmmmffff, just don't want none o' that stuff.” She mumbled. “Gotta get back out there. . .” “You should stay abed.” Sun Shade implored. “You've lost a great deal of blood. Really, you've made quite the mess of the flooring below decks.” Applejack's ears twitched, swiveling towards the sound of crushing rocks just beyond the tiny, reinforced window. “Now, ah don't pretend ta know exactly what's goin' on out there. But it sounds like y'all could use a hoof.” “Nonsense, dear.” Sun Shade bluffed. “We've got everything sorted. The secret is soda water. You mix it with vinegar, and poof, tricky bloodstains come right out.” “Y'all know that ain't what I meant.” Pin Feather nodded along. “You know that isn't what she meant.” Shade threw him a scathing glare. “Yet she ought to stay in bed, correct?” She gritted through her teeth. “I get the feelin' y'all just saved my hide, and I'm mighty grateful, make no mistake.” Applejack's eyes wandered blearily from face to face. “But y'all can either help me get to my friends, or y'all can get yer collective keisters outta my way.” Twilight almost found herself someplace she deserved entirely. She felt she scarcely merited the space she afforded herself to breathe. The absence of any speck or shred of light was especially condign. Certainly she chose to shed no light with her small shield because she feared discovery. Yet, she also deserved darkness. It was as much the fruit of her failures as the dust she choked on, the tears she shed. Stones ranging from tiny pebbles to massive boulders slid over one another past her shield, their solid weight shifting constantly against her mind, yet all she could see were phosphorescent flashes as insubstantial as wisps. The afterimages of stars were poor company; they did nothing to distract her from her memories. There were so many things she should never have done she could hardly recollect them all. Spike had most assuredly survived. The Darkness would not have let him die so easily. In fact, Twilight could still feel his outbursts of magic like faint echoes of scoria across her horn, even through goddess-knows how much intervening rock. He was still lost in darkness and rage, still searching for her. Yet he was further away from her than anyone. She would have gladly dropped her defenses and allowed him to attack her as he wished, if only she could bear to look him in the eyes. In grief and sorrow, she tried again to reunite the Elements. Twilight carefully opened her senses, searching for the connection between her and her friends. A faint glow began at the tip of her horn, coalescing into the shape of a star. She kept the light as dim as she could manage, but it didn't keep the stones surrounding her from leaping out of the gloom like ghouls. A hint of claustrophobia tightened across her chest as the light from her horn reflected back into her eyes from a shifting prison of fractured igneous rocks. Nothing. Hollowness and emptiness. Twilight had no way of knowing whether she had lost too much of her soul subsumed in the Darkness to connect with the Elements, or if one of her friends were dead. A lambent flash caught her in the eye, a reflection bright enough to make her wince. Through the constant movement she glimpsed a facet like a gem trapped in the stone. Without thinking, Twilight grabbed the traveling rock in her telekinetic field and drew it carefully through her shield until it rested in her trembling lavender hooves. She scarcely had to try. Chunks of the stone practically flaked away at her touch, revealing a diamond as large as her hoof embedded in the rock. It was almost flawless, and the meager light from her horn refracted the light again and again. Obliquely, it spun her thoughts towards the Carousel Boutique, towards Ponyville. Towards Spike. Towards home. A poignant longing threatened to break her heart. She let the light die, leaving nothing but the ghosts of stars dancing across her vision once again. Twilight had spurned the Darkness, and the Elements had failed. So she clutched the gem to her chest and waited. She didn't know what else to do. “All things considered.” Rarity's cultured voice drifted through the gloom. “Circumstances could be worse.” “Could be worse?!?” Pinkie Pie shouted. “HOW could things be worse!? We've just been nommed by a great big, super-duper hugenormous crazy-paisley THINGY-THING!!!” A soft thump followed Pinkie's voice relocating to ground level. “Next it'll probably digest us and poop us out the end.” She added miserably. “Well. For one thing, we're still alive, aren't we?” From the sound of it, Pinkie's face was mushed into the floor. “Yeah. . .” “And, hmmm.” Rarity pondered for a moment. “We could all have a terrible case of the pony pox. That would certainly be worse.” “Hey, you're right.” Pinkie sproinged back to her hooves. “Things could be worse!” She inhaled a couple of times through her nose. “Wait, am I starting to come down with sniffles?” Another long, nasally sniff was followed by a dainty sneeze. “I'M FEELING SNIFFLY!!!” “It's only dust, Pinkie.” Rarity drifted towards the soft glow of Luna's horn, the only light left in the whole world, or so it seemed. “What do we do now?” She asked softly. The Princess's voice was taut with frustration and strain. “We know not. Yet together we have purchased ourselves an opportunity for ingenious counters.” “Ingenious?” Sun Shade's lantern cast back the gloom, illuminating the Vigil's inert controls and the blinking, owlish faces surrounding them. “Thank goodness we're here, then.” “That's our umbrella-butt; modest to the core.” Pin Feather rolled his eyes. The effect was entirely lost, however, since he had no discernible pupils. After a glance at the changeling, Rarity let loose a shrill screech, as though she'd seen a mouse or a bat or a plaid tie over a yellow jumpsuit. That is, until Pinkie clamped a hoof over the unicorn's mouth, muffling her. “That wasn't very nice.” Pinkie Pie admonished. “You say, 'It's nice to see you, changeling imposter. What's your real name?' Something like that.” “Just call'em Pins, for cider's sake.” Applejack slid herself off of Skan's back and promptly collapsed onto the floor. Sky rushed to her side as she struggled to get up, supporting her weight. Pinkie Pie appeared at her other side, suffused with concern. “My dear!” Rarity gasped. “Whatever happened to you?!” Applejack's muscles shook visibly. “It was mostly just a scratch. . .” “She died.” Skan grumbled. “Her heart stopped and everything.” “Gah!” Rarity clutched her mane. “Are you alright?” Sun Shade nudged the changeling with a hoof. “Our Pin Feather here saved her life. 'Twas absolutely amazing.” Pin Feather ducked his head. “Amazing only because it worked.” Luna nodded and smiled in recognition. “Well done, medic.” Rarity composed herself with a prim sigh. “Well. It seems I owe you an apology, 'Pins.' But you do understand you look like a, well. . .” “Evil bug monster. Yeah, I get it.” “I think you look super neat!” Pinkie poked at one of his fangs until he twitched away, then she began tapping his shoulder, producing a hollow sound with his carapace. She giggled. “What about the Elements?” Sun Shade glanced between Rarity and Applejack. “Is there any way we can contact Twilight from, ah. . . From in here?” “From in where?” A note of alarm crept into Clear Sky's soft voice. “Where are we? Why wont anypony just tell us what's going on?” “Oh, uh. . . oh my. . .” Rarity gestured vaguely around her. “It's difficult to, ah. . .” Pinkie leaped to reply, “It's soooooo crazy you wont believe it! But mmmfmff!” Rarity hushed her with a hoof. “Actually, it's best not to worry overmuch, darling.” Rarity offered a charming smile. Pinkie scowled. Luna spoke over them, aiming her words toward Sun Shade. “The Elements may yet suffice to save this ship, and all of us. We are shielding the Vigil from harm whilst gentle Rarity prevents the river of stone from overtaking us on its journey. However, we fear for Twilight. We believe she is in grave danger. Where are Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash? Hast thou seen them belowdecks?” “Oh, uh. . .” Skan exchanged worried glances with Sky. “Well, the thing is. . .” “Wait!” Rarity held up a hoof. “Does anypony else hear that?” Her question was met with puzzled expressions and raised eyebrows. “Oh, of course not. Silly me. One moment, if you all please.” With that she trotted confidently to the edge of the light, peering into the inky blackness beyond the smashed windows, muttering under her breath the whole way. The constant grinding sound of rocks sliding about one another took on a hushed cadence, as though a few of them stopped moving to listen. “And this is something we should understand?” Sky slumped to the floor in defeat. Skan had taken Applejack's weight again, so he muttered to her as much as Sky. “I'm as lost as you are, mate.” Kelbrri had been perched silently by the main airship controls, waiting for some glimmer of power to make them useful again. Shifting her multicolored wings, she hesitantly asked. “Where's Cloud? Is she making repairs?” The question seemed to take Sun Shade by surprise. “Yes. She stayed below in case she found the opportunity to run diagnostics on the engine. Perhaps some of us,” Here she pointed her muzzle at Skan and Sky. “Could see if she needs assistance?” “Oh no.” Skan shook his head for both of them. “Don't send us away now.” “And if I phrased it as an order?” “Oh, come on. . .” Skan gestured around the room. “Can we stay? Every time I leave this room, I fall behind.” Rarity interrupted Shade's scathing response. “I do believe I've found her!” She practically pranced backwards from the windows, followed by a large ball of rocks. The sphere rolled into the center of the room and collapsed, revealing a haggard, dust-covered, mournful Twilight. She shrugged stones and dirt off her lavender shoulders as she peered through her tears at the faces around her, blinking startled eyes. Pinkie pounced immediately, throwing a hug around the purple unicorn. Twilight returned it with vigor. Rarity approached from the other side and offered her own hug, heedless of the grit and grime. Princess Luna's voice resonated with awe. “Twilight Sparkle. . . Thou hast divested thyself of all thine fell powers unaided. Twice now.” Her smile brightened her face. “Our faith in thee is vindicated!” “Please.” Twilight fought her way out of Pinkie's copious mane. “Please Princess, you have to help him.” Her voice strained on the edge of tears. “I've. . . I. . . T-the Darkness has him, has got him all twisted up. He was making these horrible accusations, and I. . . I just made it so much worse. I made it worse and now,” She sniffed. “Now he just wants to hurt me, to get me back.” She wiped a fetlock across her nose, looking like an upset foal. “I can't reach him a-anymore.” “Twilight, take heed. Young Spike would find no adequate defense against the Elements of Harmony. Bringing them to bear could very well cleanse this darkness from his soul. As it cleansed mine.” “Spike?” Applejack glanced between the two of them. “Our Spike?” But neither of them answered her. “You don't understand!” She pushed away from her friends. “I can't! I can't find it anymore! I t-tried! I tried finding you all. . . And it didn't work! It, it didn't-” She curled into herself, shuddering. The diamond fell from her hooves, clinking to the floor. Luna's eyes tracked the gem, then dismissed it as she placed a comforting hoof on Twilight's shoulder. “Thou art beset and troubled, 'tis certain. Yet thy spirit remains whole. We believe in thee. Please, make another attempt. 'Twill not be in vain.” The whole bridge seemed to hold its breath as Twilight Sparkle fought down her tremors, wiped her eyes and steadied her breathing. A fragile hope settled into her gaze as she nodded, bolstered by Luna's support. When she closed her eyes, for a moment she actually appeared calm. A violet glow appeared at the tip of her horn, small and precious like the birth of a star. Luna's eyes shone. Pin Feather smiled, and he nudged Sun Shade gently. Kelbrri nodded, some of the strain easing out of her face. The hope slowly building throughout the room died with Pinkie Pie's voice. “It's not working.” She said with finality. Twilight's glow winked out, and her resolve crumbled into itself. “Hmmm.” Rarity pondered with a hoof to her chin. “Just where are our pegasi?” “It shouldn't matter.” Pinkie chirruped. “If they're nearby, we should all be connected. Right Twilight?” Applejack glared suspiciously out from under her disheveled mane at the black gryphon holding her up. “Hey. Y'all know something, don'tcha?” Skan scratched his crest. “Uh, that's what we've been trying to say. They were with us, helping pull Applejack here out of storage. The floor had been damaged, you see, a great spar of. . .” “The shadows took them.” Clear Sky's voice was made somehow mournful by its lack of inflection. His eyes were deep pools of sorrow in the lantern's light. “We haven't seen them since. I'm sorry.” Dismay choked the companions into silence. Twilight's gaze tracked hopelessly into the distance. Rarity gasped. Pinkie turned to Princess Luna, an obsidian sculpture in the dark. “So what do we do now? Can we find them?” Luna hesitated, shaking her head. “We. . . We kno-” She flung backwards from the clustered group as though struck hard in the chest. At the same moment a muffled explosion rattled the ship. “Luna!” Twilight whirled towards the alicorn, hooves outstretched. But Luna caught herself before she hit the wall, her snarl a slash across her features. “We are beset! Something attacked our shield!” “Spike. . .” Twilight whispered. “Our Spike?” Applejack tried to stamp a hoof and nearly fell over. “Would somepony start explainin' something please!” Rarity appeared chagrined, glancing up through her mane. “When we crashed, he must have fallen from a window. It was my fault.” “Rarity wait,” If anything, Twilight looked even more guilty than Rarity. “I'm sorry I-” Rarity cut her off with a quick head-shake. “Another time, dear.” Her tone bespoke forgiveness, though. “His strength exceeds ours, yet he knows naught concerning its use.” The glow from Luna's horn brightened. “We shall attempt to reason with him.” Then she vanished in a flash of light. “She wants to talk him down?” Shade said. “Is that going to work?” Twilight's eyes struggled back into focus. “He hasn't hit us again. I think maybe its already working.” She wilted further. “I don't think he wants to hurt anypony else but me.” “Spike's the danger? Huh.” Applejack lifted a trembling hoof, pointing at the discarded diamond. “Don't he enjoy. . .” “Ah-ha!” Pinkie Pie swooped in and scooped the gem up, holding it aloft. “He loves these things! Rarity, can you find more?” “Of course I can!” Rarity trumpeted. “That's the first reasonable request I've received during this awful little vacation.” The jewel at her throat lit with a gentle light as she trotted towards the window again. “What an inspired idea.” She mused to herself. “Even if Princess Luna can sweet-talk an angry Spike, we still have the whole 'Escape the Giant Beasty Before We're All Digested' and the 'Find Dash and Fluttershy' missions to complete.” Pinkie noted, sitting thoughtfully. “Digested?” Skan asked, his head and eartufts drooping as though he lacked the energy to feel truly alarmed. “Digested?” “Don't worry!” Pinkie bounced her mane side to side. “Things could totally be worse!” A deluge of gems buried the pink pony, hiding her beneath a mound of precious stones dropped from Rarity's telekinetic field. Twilight nodded. “Luna's on the flight deck. I'll get these to her.” A purple field of magic enveloped the gems. “Please let this work. . .” Twilight breathed as she cast her spell, the crystals vanishing into thin air, leaving behind a startled-looking Pinkie Pie. The moment her spell was cast another detonation rocked the floor beneath them, nearly tumbling Rarity out into darkness. Twilight caught her tail with her magic and dragged her back inside. Luna's Canterlot voice trumpeted from somewhere above. “STILL THYSELF!!” “I don't believe its working!” Sun Shade shouted, alarm lacing her voice. It was the proximity of her friends that did it. Seeing the fear in her friends' eyes, it galvanized Twilight, hardening her fractured resolve. She found herself setting aside her fear, her shame, her failures. She gathered up the pieces of herself with an effort of will. “He's looking for me.” It was strange how much the words felt like saying goodbye. “I'll go.” “Uh, I thought the point was ta make him feel less upset, right?” Applejack asked hesitantly. “Unless I'm missin' something here.” Twilight was not wondering whether she could defend herself against Spike's outbursts. She was wondering seriously whether or not she would. “He's my responsibility.” Maybe she had never treated him right. “I have to try. I have to ask for his forgiveness.” Then, in a flash of light, she vanished too. “Um,” Pinkie's voice suddenly sounded small and forlorn. “What if Dash and Fluttershy. . . What if they gave in to the ickyness too? What'll we do then?” Applejack grimaced. “I dunno. Shy's got a way of wrangling this stuff down. If Dash is with her, I don't think they'll give in without a fight.” She gulped audibly. “I think.” “Oh!” Rarity's gasp accompanied a faint, irregular buzzing that emanated from the tip of her horn. “Oh my, that really tickl. . . Hello? Why yes, but I- well. . . certainl. . . Yes your Highness, I can. . .” The buzzing cut off as quickly as it had begun. “Well I never.” The unicorn sounded both annoyed and breathless. She clamped a hoof protectively over her horn. “That was most intrusive.” Sun Shade appeared absolutely awash with astonishment. “Did Princess Luna just speak into your mind?” Possibilities flickered through her eyes. “How marvelous. . .” “Hold on everypony, I must try to concentrate if I'm going to stop this flow of rocks beneath us.” Rarity splayed her hooves. “Luna says she has a plan.” A blurred line of what might have been gemstones appeared beyond the bay windows and just as swiftly dipped out of sight. Sun Shade's astonishment curdled back into alarm. “Does this plan involve. . . oh, I don't know, sawing a hole through the bottom of this creature with enchanted gemstones and dropping our fragile and might I say it rather worn airship from Goddess-knows how high up alongside what might be several tons of free-falling boulders?” “THAT'S not what the gems were for!” Pinkie scowled. Rarity smirked. “I did suggest holding on to something.” Twilight appeared on the deck of the Vigil, the wood pocked, scarred, but essentially whole beneath her hooves. Luna's light shone bright like a beacon, but it failed to reach the far walls of the worm's gullet. There was a thick rank in the air, a smell of sour dirt that stung her nose, making it run. She was certain the air was far from breathable beyond the reach of Luna's spherical shield. Where the deck of the airship ended, the light fell upon a landscape of stone flowing like a river towards some unspeakable end. The sound of grinding and crushing filled her ears. Yet what truly held her attention was the hovering line of gems, a perfect lateral ring of precious stones spinning in Luna's telekinetic grip just beyond the rail. As she watched, the ring of stones became a blur, dipping below her sight. Luna was. . . On the cusp of understanding, a guttural snarl from behind froze the blood in her veins and shattered her train of thought. A sound at once so alien and so familiar it twisted her stomach into knots. Twilight turned slowly, both knowing and dreading what she would find. Princess Luna stood her ground only a couple of paces away, her horn an incandescent flare of sizzling magic. Her eyes, however, were staring down the whelpling standing before her. It was Spike. Of course it was Spike. But he looked different somehow, beyond the ebony scales and the blackness that steamed and boiled through his eye sockets. He looked leaner, maybe a little taller. Luna had been staring down a feral spectre of the dragon Twilight had known. Now he appeared coiled and dangerous. The baby dragon had forgotten Luna, his empty eyes fixed upon Twilight. Something in Twilight eased a fraction. He appeared more dangerous than before, more savage, but it was becoming clearer to her; this was the Darkness calling the shots. The Darkness was possessing him. Maybe, as an inherently magical being, he was more susceptible to its influence. More likely he was just too young to defend himself. But seeing this, Twilight felt less stricken by his accusations even as she felt her own guilt sharpen. Fueled by hatred and venom or not, she should never have struck him. It was wrong. And it was time to own up to her mistakes. Twilight took her first step, bridging the distance between them. “Spike, I. . .” He cocked back a fist to hurl power at her. “SPIKE!” Luna's Canterlot voice cut through his rage, imposing thought over instinct. “DESIST! THOU HAS NO TRUE WISH TO HARM ANY OF THY FRIENDS.” It bought her an opening and, defenseless, she stepped forward into it. “Spike, I'm sorry.” She kept her voice soft and steady, her confidence and sincerity growing stronger as she spoke. “I know I've made tons of mistakes. Sometimes I let myself get caught up in school or friends, and I've left you behind. Or I've left you out. You wanted to help, you always did. You took pride in being my number one assistant, and I know that wasn't a lie.” He snarled at her again, but he did not attack as she approached. “But I let it go too far. Even when I tried not to take you for granted, I think maybe I did anyway. I'm so sorry for that.” Twilight hoped fervently that she sounded something like Pinkie did back when she was consoling Fluttershy with memories of home. She'd closed half the distance already with her measured strides. Luna looked as though she was ready to leap to her defense at a moment's notice, but Twilight had no attention to spare for the alicorn. If she failed to talk Spike out of his emotional prison, well, she didn't really have a plan B. “Maybe some other pony would have made a better parent than I was to you. I've thought about that a lot recently. I've always loved you, though. Deep down you know that. If I've ever wanted you to stay behind, it's only because I couldn't stand you being hurt, or being in danger. Spike, please forgive me. I never meant to hurt you.” She stopped, having come nearly nose-to-nose with the angry creature before her. He still had one little fist drawn back, poised as though some part of him still wished to strike her. Confusion and pain flickered across his features, making him tremble, making him hesitate. Twilight sat, imploring from under her bangs at the one creature she cared about more than any other in the whole world. “Spike, please. I know you're in there somewhere. I know what you're going through. The anger, the rage, it all feels so justified when you're in pain. But this isn’t you.” She kept her hooves to herself, though. “This isn’t you, Spike. Please come back.” Maybe a tiny part of her was still afraid. Maybe, just maybe, a simple hug might have reached through the mire of dark energy and through his turmoil. Maybe, in that moment, she could have touched him at his core, brought him back to himself. She had found the best opening she could have possibly hoped for. One little space of vulnerability, and the final wall between them should have toppled at a touch. But she didn't move. She hesitated. She'd hoped that words alone would be enough to reach him. She saw the moment pass. She watched as the Darkness reasserted itself, coiling and tightening around his soul. His features settled, and they settled back into rage. She'd had her moment, she'd had her chance. Through the space of one heartbeat, one blink, she'd lost him. His feet left the deck of the airship as he launched himself at her face, claws and teeth bared. Twilight had no spells ready, no defenses. She didn't even try to move. She simply blinked her eyes shut, the world replaced with the darkness behind her eyelids as the creature she still cared for closed the distance between them. Claws raked her scalp, tore through her mane as Spike overshot, arcing above her. She felt weightless, giddy with her own proximity to death. For a brief moment despair had locked her joints and deadened her muscles, rendered her lifeless as a corpse before the blow had even been struck. She'd had no part in saving her own life, whatever had spared her, and her heart lurched with the realization. Or maybe her stomach flew up into her throat because she was actually falling. The deck of the Vigil gently left her hooves as yards of cut stone rushed upwards all around Luna's shield. Between the rocks seeped a vile substance, thick and green. As Twilight lost touch with the wood entirely, the acres of stone gave way to pale flesh, the void above the falling shield filling with tumbling rocks and gastric effluvium. Spike roared in frustration as he drifted higher, further from his target. Then they were falling through open air, the massive body of the worm eeling through the night sky. The ground was distant, but the airship was gaining speed as it tipped towards the shadowed landscape. She ached to reach her magic towards the Vigil. Her friends were in danger, their way home was in danger, and deep within Twilight's chest rested the ageless core of power that had once belonged to Celestia. She may have had the power to save them, to slow their fall somehow, if she could just think of the right spell. But she let it go. She let them all slip from her mind. She wasn't abandoning her friends; she trusted that Luna could save them. She and Luna had the same core of power to draw from, and the Princess simply had far more knowledge and experience than she did. She trusted they would be alright, somehow. Instead, she kept her eyes locked on Spike. She was not going to lose him again. He was falling faster now, angling himself back towards her with his scaly arms at his sides. Twilight rolled onto her back, fighting to position herself underneath him. The howling wind of her plummet was ominous, as though it promised death. Above her, dragonfire poured out of Spike's jaws, rippling backwards through the air until he looked like a falling green comet. Twilight tried not to twitch while the ends of her mane and tail singed away as they streamed above her. Her next breath parched her throat on the inhale, and she squinted her dry eyes against the heat. She tucked her legs in against herself in an effort to protect her body. Spike paused to draw breath and Twilight snapped her limbs open, slowing her fall while the dwindling flames still obscured his sight and Spike collided with her ribs and Twilight wrapped her arms around him with as much strength as she could muster. He struggled in her grasp. “Spike, please stop it!” Claws raked at her belly, leaving searing trails of pain in their wake. “Listen to me!” Fangs sank deep into her fetlock. “I love you!” The frantic writhing stilled, the vice of his jaws easing a fraction. “I love you, Spike.” Now the howl of wind felt just like silence. The crazed thumping of Spike's heartbeat began to slow. “Please come back.” Tiny droplets of blood ran in backwards rivulets and fell upwards, joining the stars in hovering above them. “This isn't you.” The scaled body twitched in her grasp and the fangs pulled out of her limb, leaving a sharp, throbbing pain behind. She heard him gasp in realization and he started to hyperventilate. “It's okay. I understand. It's okay.” She spoke soothing words as they fell, not even caring what she said. Only caring that he was there, mentally present once again. He hadn't been lost. Not entirely. And as she held him in her arms she felt a door within her open. She felt them, she felt the Elements, and they were all within her reach again. And she knew where they were most needed. Twilight cradled the whelpling like a foal as rainbow light surrounded them both, blocking the cruel world from sight for a time. For a time, at least. The air stilled as the moon rose. A hush settled gently over the world. The nearby clouds ceased their electric mutterings. Even the stars in their stately dance through the cosmos seemed to pause for a moment to observe the drop of rainbow color suspended between the oil-black bowl of the crater and the spangled darkness of the sky. And when the drop of color fell gently to the ground it splashed, ripples spreading outward in every direction. Colors arced and fell, dispelling shadows in cascades of vibrant, tangible light. Darkness like cold flames fractured, evaporating into tufts like evanescent fog. Tint and hue swirled upon one another in a panoplic display of beauty, rushing outward in a waterfall of health. Where the ripples of magic passed, bare stone gleamed naked in the starlight, stunned and fresh and oddly beautiful. Pale, lost creatures stilled their tortured movements while rainbow colors washed over them, as though reminded for a moment of the lives they'd once had. Then they too rolled into mist, freed from their tortured existences. The ring continued to expand, colors twining through colors, cleansing the taint of darkness as it spread. Even the air became fresher, cleaner, crisp with the coolness of night. The kind of air reserved for the sweetest, budding days of Spring. It tasted like renewal and possibilities. And the power of the Elements didn't stop. It poured across the crater, up the unfathomable rim, cleansing the blight for as far as the eye could see. Eventually, the world stood stark beneath the gaze of the moon, bare as creation. Very little impinged upon Twilight's awareness. As the collective might of the Elements completed their task, she felt the power slipping away from her again, leaving behind a deep fatigue that pulled hard on her eyelids. She felt her eyes and her horn lose the platinum glow pervading them. She felt her friends cluster tiredly around her, and she heard Rainbow Dash's voice crack as her friend called out a playful challenge to the surrounding landscape, daring the shadows to return. As her closest friends began to talk amongst themselves, Twilight picked out Fluttershy's melodic voice. They were safe. She was glad her friends were okay. She was. More glad than she could say. And somewhere behind them the Aether's Vigil rested once more on its hull, the remains of Luna's various spells still dissipating into the night air. In the distance beyond them thrashed the giant worm, far enough away that the tremors from its flicking tail could scarcely be felt through Twilight's hooves. It could no longer get off the ground, and it didn't seem to understand that fact. But those things were so far beyond Twilight's concern that they hardly registered. Her world had narrowed to two small facts. The most important of which was that Spike was alive and well and in her arms. His purple scales rose and fell as he breathed. He tried to meet her eyes and couldn't, his face contorting in guilt. Twilight just held him tighter. She wasn't certain what she should say, and she knew it wouldn't make much of a difference anyhow. She was just filled from tail to mane with gratitude, thankful that he'd been brought back to her. Never mind the second small fact; that Yami was still out there somewhere and they no longer stood a chance against it. It was all over. Her and her friends simply hadn't faced that truth yet. And Twilight held tight to Spike, desperate to put off that second fact for as long as she could. She nuzzled him gently, his soft green spines comforting against her chin. Rarity's voice was almost directly in her ear. “And where in Equestria have you two been, hmmmm?” She sounded almost as weary as Twilight felt. “Oh!” Dash's voice still had some energy behind it. “Sky was trying to take a nose-dive into the curse, but I totally saved him! But then I got stuck under a lousy fridge and Fluttershy had to come rescue me. Then we were in this dream Cloudsdale that wasn't always Cloudsdale and. . . I don't really remember all that well. It's kinda fuzzy in my mind, the way dreams get. Except that Fluttershy kicked some mega-gross rabbit butt! I remember that part!” “Sounds. . . fascinatin'.” Applejack conceded. “I'm worried about what happened out here.” Fluttershy admonished. “Twilight was hurt and Applejack. . . and Spike? How did everything go wrong all at once?” A pair of sun-colored hooves wrapped around Twilight to comfort the bundle of scales in her arms. “Poor Spike. . .” Twilight smiled her thanks without taking her eyes off her number one assistant. “Oh yeah,” Pinkie's tired smile warmed her voice. “Rarity talked to rocks and Nightmare Twilight was all 'kerchoom' and Luna was all 'Thee and thou doth such and such' and then we were all eaten.” She sighed from the tips of her hooves. “It's been a really weird day all around. Hey, is it coming back towards us? It looks like its coming back towards us.” Only then did Twilight glance up. Not more of this. Please, I can't take any more right now. But she steeled herself with a sigh. The giant worm slithered towards them along the ground, kicking up breakers of stone as it approached. It appeared to be moving slowly, as though it was hurt, but its sheer size made it unreasonably swift. The moonlight scattered across its white hide, emphasizing the almost metallic spectrum of colors fraught like runnels beneath its skin. It was beautiful as it swept towards the airship between them, inexorable as an avalanche. “I reckon we oughtta do something, girls, and put this thing out of a world-eatin' job for good.” “I like how I can always tell its you talking AJ, because you're the only pony I know who says 'reckon.'” “That and the sound of my voice, right Pinkie?” A giggle. “Eeeeyup.” Twilight was on the verge of setting Spike down. She'd even given him one last, gentle squeeze. Yet before she could do so a wall of flames burst into life, loops of flame painted broadly through the air through a core that burned like the sun. The dark of night scattered before the display of magic, and Twilight gasped. She hadn't known Luna was capable of manipulating solar energy like that, especially at night. Though they felt no heat where they sat, the cluster of friends all marveled as the titanic worm stopped in its charge, rearing back in obvious pain. Princess Luna appeared on the deck of the Vigil, and across the distance Twilight could clearly see gemstones gathering, swirling in various rings and orbits around her horn. As the flames began to die down, massive green vines lashed up out of the clean ground, binding and ensnaring the worm's whiskers and maw. At the same time, a thick mist coalesced out of the air and the worm's movements slowed, its thrashings hampered somehow. “I don't know, it looks like the Princess has this under control.” Fluttershy breathed. Twilight didn't buy it for one second. The Princess, by herself, didn't have that kind of power. But Twilight didn't want to contradict her friend out loud, so she just nodded. She tried to scan the horizon, expecting a figure to emerge, but she was entranced by the way Luna seemed to be assembling the gems she'd discovered into a massive sword, as long as the airship, held together with ephemeral moonlight. It glowed, long and deadly, as Luna took to the wing. “Woah. . .” Dash's wings spread in awe. “Luna's been holding out on us.” As the Princess took to cutting the worm open, Twilight looked away. Finally she could sit out for a round or two. She found Spike, his eyes wide and reflecting the full moon as he watched Luna work, cringing and gasping with all of her friends. His movements had become childlike once again. If not innocent exactly, then maybe filled with the capacity for wonder once more. It was enough. She couldn't bring herself to look away. It was long minutes before the fighting was done. “Oh, now that's just. . . wrong.” Fluttershy accused. “This will do marvelous things for my figure, as I wont be eating ever again.” Rarity observed. Applejack reached again for her missing hat. “I'm just hoping the smell drifts somewheres else. I ain't lookin' forward to losing my apples out here.” “Keep an eye out, girls.” Twilight spoke without looking up. “I think someone's coming.” “More bad guys?” Dash asked only semi-hopefully. Twilight shook her head no. “I don't think so.” “Should we throw them a party?” Pinkie asked, her tone laced with the wistful sadness of a pony who knew that the nearest party supply store was thousands of miles away. “Oh!” Fluttershy brightened. “Oh Twilight, do you think its. . .” “A wolf?” Dash asked, incredulous. “Here?” “A friend, I think.” Twilight smiled before she looked up, her eyes drawn to a white speck glinting in the moonlight. It was between them and the rim, closer maybe to the airship, but it flowed with deceptive alacrity over the bare rocks. A wolf raced towards them, its sinewy form both lean and powerful. Its efforts appeared entirely unconscious, as though it moved not just swiftly, but effortlessly. It's coat gleamed like untrammeled snow, and as it ran small clumps of grass sprang up like exclamations of health with every step, accompanied by the occasional bobbing, startled wildflower. It's beauty stole her breath away, left her heart feeling thick with wonder and humility. Here was a creature who would never entreat with the Darkness. Here was a creature who had, presumably, given its life fighting that Darkness an age ago, back when the world was a different place altogether. It moved like poetry, and it made Twilight feel like she was dreaming, despite being wide awake. “Oh!” Pinkie began pronking in place, even if she was tired enough that she didn't make it far off the ground. “It's the wolf from Celestia's story!” “It's, ah. . . It's friendly, you say?” Applejack edged closer to her friends. “My goodness!” Fluttershy broke into a hover. “I've never met anything like it before! I'm so excited!” And then it was slowing its pace to something a little less threatening. From a sprint to a three-beat canter, then a light jog. Then the wolf sat before them, its wide eyes alert and friendly. When it, No, she. When she sat, she was a head taller than any of the ponies. Vivid crimson designs zigged and zagged through her fur, underlining her eyes, emphasizing her eldritch beauty. Tufts of fur like the whitest sendaline evoked soft clouds where they gathered at her shoulders and tail, and her long tail tapered into inky-black strands, like a paintbrush. Her ears perked, and her mouth lolled into an open grin, as though meeting friends for the first time. But the wolf said nothing. Fluttershy could hardly contain her glee. Only the daunting and stately presence the wolf managed to project kept her from squealing in outright joy. What surprised Twilight more was a tiny mewl of excitement from Rarity. The unicorn was practically prancing with exhilaration. Applejack leaned towards her. “I take it yer 'fashion sense' is tingling?” She drawled. Rarity restrained herself to a pair of tiny, delighted nods. Twilight felt its presence, felt its warm power even from where she sat. it was intimidating, despite being overtly friendly. She should have said something, she should have introduced herself, introduced them all. . . yet she couldn't. She felt overwhelmed, and dwarfed, and far too small to be addressing something that was probably old when Celestia was born. They were in the presence of something which, in a different era of their civilization, they might have worshiped. Likely for good reason. So of course Pinkie felt no such reservation. “Hi! I'm Pinkie Pie! That's two p's, two e's and three i's! Not that you'd be writing that down with paws, huh? Say, can you write with your mouth? I can! Wanna see? I've got crayons here somewhere. . .” “Pinkie,” Rarity laughed, and it was a clean sound. “Really? Must you really?” “What?” Pinkie's ears fell, and she sounded genuinely taken aback. “I was just curiou-WOAH! Let go of me!” Sure enough, the wolf had her fluffy tail in its mouth, and it was shaking its head playfully. “That is not a chew toy!” “Ohmigosh that's so cute!” Fluttershy's voice scaled into high registers Twilight wasn't certain she'd ever heard before, making the wolf's ears twitch in annoyance. Then the pegasus barreled into the wolf's side, burying her face into the soft fur of its shoulder and neck. Its tongue flopped out in another happy grin. “Oh, please tell me you can talk!” Fluttershy murmured. “That's so cool!” Dash leaned in from a hover. “Can we keep it?” Applejack giggled, a mix of awe and joy making her voice heavy. “Maybe you should ask her. Gosh, I wonder what the family would say if they could see this. . .” Everyone stopped talking as Spike disentangled himself from Twilight's embrace and waddled up to the radiant being. The wolf's grin vanished as it considered this new creature. Spike stared up into the wolf's gaze silently, tiny fists clenched at his sides. Twilight tensed, spells springing to mind ready to yank Spike back at the slightest hint of trouble. She wasn't certain how this ancient creature would have reacted to the Darkness they'd dispelled, and even now the wolf's nose wrinkled in distaste, like she could still smell the blight on the little whelpling. To Spike's immense credit, he didn't flinch under the scrutiny. He kept his eyes, wide and full of gravity, fixed on the predator in front of him. He looked so deliberately vulnerable, Twilight felt her breath catch on the inhale, drawing a couple of glances of her own. The wolf considered the baby dragon quietly. It leaned its long muzzle down slowly, and it sniffed him with gentle whiffs of air. And Spike waited as though he faced judgment for all his past sins. Then it pushed its muzzle against his forehead, leaving behind a faint, wet impression of its nose. Then it let out a single, happy bark, making everyone jump a little. Spike's eyes shut, and he stumbled forward into an embrace, burying himself in its fur, and the wolf wagged its tail briskly, disturbing the sparse foliage that had sprung up in its wake. Relieved laughter spangled through the cluster of ponies. Twilight sagged, feeling lighter than she had in weeks. She had the feeling, watching the dragon and the wolf, that maybe she'd been too hard on herself. Maybe she'd been too hard on everyone she loved. Even Celestia. Suddenly the wolf's demeanor changed, and it swung its broad head into Spike's belly, knocking him flat. Then it leaped back, arcing gracefully into a flip and landing in a fighting crouch, a deep growl shaking the tiny stones around Twilight's hooves. At the sight, the fur all along Twilight's back stood on end. The benevolence had vanished, and she was forcibly reminded just how much power and speed a carnivore of this size could contain. The wolf vanished as a bolt of lightning struck it, white searing Twilight's vision as the concussion of noise knocked them all down. She scrambled through the dust to get her arms around Spike again, and not a moment too soon. He was struggling and shouting, trying hard to place himself between the wolf and its attacker. She just kept her arms around him and coughed, blinking hard to clear the dust from her eyes. Spike needn’t have worried. The beautiful wolf had dodged the assault, its paws leaving deep furrows in the stony ground. A small, flat shield, carved with images of fire on top and perfectly reflective on the bottom, coalesced in the air above the wolf's shoulders. It hovered, as though it was suspended telekinetically, and the wolf crouched behind it, deflecting a pair of magical attacks harmlessly into the air. Then Luna was upon it, and the two traded blows frenetically. “What're you doing, Princess?!? Have you gone completely bonkers?” Dash shouted, adding her voice to Spike's protests. “Oh, goodness. . .” Rarity just sat in a dust-covered daze. “I'm so painfully confused right now.” Luna's horn and hooves swung, and the wolf's reflector parried, hollow clangs interspersed with the scrabbling of hooves and paws. Luna's form was flawless and full of grace, but it lacked the raw power and speed the wolf possessed. Fortunately for the divine visitor, the wolf could also match the alicorn's grace step for step, flowing around her as it defended itself. It didn't have to strike back, even to push Luna on the defensive. Until a yellow form flashed between them, wings spread, and Luna was forced to wrench her attack to the side, stumbling to a halt. “Stop this!” Fluttershy shouted, her eyes as hard as sapphires. “Stop it right now!” “Princess, what's wrong?” Twilight implored. Spike broke away from her and bounded to Fluttershy's side, his arms outstretched. Twilight let him go. Luna wouldn't hurt the two of them in cold blood, would she? The Princess was haggard, spattered with dank liquids and smudged with dust and grit. Her mane had lost its flowy, ethereal lightness, instead appearing dark, matted and tangled. She held her ground and breathed as though she stood upon the edge of her endurance. But the rage in her eyes was bitter, and old. “YOU!!!” She thundered, raising a hoof to point like an accusation at the brilliant wolf as though Twilight's friends didn't stand in her way. “YOU DID THIS TO US!!!!!” The wolf ceased its growling, although it didn't drop its guard, and Luna continued as though she and the wolf stood completely alone. “MY LIFE? MY FAMILY? GONE!!!” Her roar dropped suddenly to a fragile whisper. “You brought it here.” The words dripped out, each one dragged through centuries of anguish. “You fought the end of all good things, and you brought it here. To our home.” She panted through her teeth. “You gave us gifts, and then you failed to warn us of the cost.” The wind had gone completely out of Spike's sails, and Fluttershy looked similarly lost. So they didn't protest as Princess Luna shoved past them both, bringing her shaking nose to within an inch of the wolf's muzzle. “You did this to us.” Her voice shook with vehemence, rendered even more chilling by its lack of volume. “You did this to us, and you left us alone. You have destroyed. . . everything. . .” The wolf had stood from its crouch by then, tall enough to look Luna in the eye. But it didn't. It's gaze shifted to the side, weighed down by the alicorn's accusations. Twilight imagined the wolf's gaze tracking through eons of conflict and destruction and struggle. It's eyebrows lifted as its gaze met Luna's again, a soft look of imploring meeting the alicorn's fury and pain. Luna clenched herself. “You will help us. But it will not erase your debt, or my family's blood from your conscience.” The wolf chuffed a worried whine through its lips, as though it agreed.