At first, the archaeologists refused to allow Spike anywhere near the ruins after tour hours. Once he showed them the royal seal, they agreed to listen to him. In the face of Spike’s overwhelming evidence, courtesy of Twilight, they agreed to let him rearrange the central tiles on the condition that he returned them to their original place when he finished. They sent a team of experts to follow him and oversee every step. They carefully rearranged the tiles as Spike instructed to the image on Twilight’s journal of a queen accompanied by three bat ponies. Beneath the light of the full moon, beams of light filled the lines carved into the tiles.
The light diffused from the grooves and covered entire panel. Spike shaded his eyes as the white brightness intensified. The illumination diminished and then receded to individual tiles, where it narrowed into lines and symbols. Spike recognized those emblems from Twilight’s journal. While the archeologists ogled at the sight, he took a pen and transcribed every symbol. He then began to translate, his teeth chattering in the cold.
Twilight’s translation system wasn’t a simple alphabetical translation. Certain symbols together became certain phrases, while the absence of a single line or the addition of a tiny curve changed the meaning. Spike had no idea how she worked all this out, much less translated an entire record of history in a few hours. Nonetheless, he translated the runes and found a coherent translation. The symbols roughly translated to “Feed me and I live, yet give me a drink and I die.”
He assumed the door would open when he identified the answer. He groaned. Translating this was hard enough, he couldn’t solve some riddle. By this time, half of the archeologists had rushed back to headquarters to reveal their findings to their superior. Spike was so wrapped up in translating he didn’t think to stop them. The last thing he needed was other ponies claiming the Eye of the Moon before he could show it to Twilight. He shivered. The night was cold. He puffed some embers to warm his face. As the fire emerged, an orange light shimmered around the tiles before fading into the stone. He traced a claw around the edges where the light had shone, and furrowed his brow. His eyes widened, as he realized the simple answer to the riddle. What did dragons have that ponies did not? Spike unleashed a steady trail of green flames over the tiles, triggering the orange glow once again. The light enveloped each tile, hiding the stone image in luminescence, and flashed in a final burst of light.
Spike blinked, trying to wipe the splotches of color from his eyes. When his vision returned, he found a new image on the tiles. The mare with a crown now stood side by side with a dragon bearing the dragon lord staff, both had their races behind them and a single bat pony between them. The tiles had melted away above the mare and the dragon to reveal a flight of stairs that descended into a night dark tunnel out of sight. As the archeologists took notes in their own journals, Spike pulled out his flashlight from his knapsack. Before any pony could stop him, he entered the passageway. The archeologists called his name, asked him to let them explore, but he paid them no attention. He had a duty.
He only glanced back to find a mare reflected from the passageway by an orange force field. She recoiled, as though touching the field burned her. Spike raced back up, hoping he had not been trapped underground. The field didn’t try to keep him in and left him unharmed. Curious, he tried entering again and found no resistance. The barrier only kept the archeologists out. Spike pursed his lips and faced the deep stairway. He had to confess that he hadn’t completely outgrown his fear of the dark, especially dark, spooky places never tread by any pony before. Then, he remembered his duty. He said his thanks to the archeologists for all their help.
“I’ll take it from here,” he said. “It looks like I’m the only one who can enter anyways.”
“Are you insane?” screamed a mare. “You have no idea what’s down there.”
“I know that it could save my friend,” Spike muttered as he faced the darkness. He glanced up at the full moon. “This tunnel might not be open come morning. If we want to explore, we have to do it now.”
The archeologists talked amongst themselves. When their talking abated, a mare said, “If you even think you’re in danger for a second, come back immediately. Do you understand?”
Spike turned to face them and nodded. He gave them a grateful smile, turned on his flashlight, and headed into the darkness before he could think twice.
Twilight turned in her bed, dealing with more nightmares about Spike, when her head jolted from the pillow. Her body shuddered, soggy and cold. She could no longer recall all the details of her dreams, only the emotions they left. She glanced at the clock, hanging above her desk. Even after two hours of sleep, her eyes burned with exhaustion, her head thrummed, her throat constricted with piercing aches, and her heart was heavy. She didn’t want to sleep, not when she woke up feeling like this. Stumbling out of her bed, she glanced at her schedule still on the desk and tried to remember what she had already planned. Twilight knew she bought two tickets to a hoofball match this coming Friday, but beyond that, she was not certain.
The longer she looked at the parchment and quill, the more she realized how much she didn’t want to write it. She wanted to spend time with Spike, but lifting the quill to write a single word was a trial. Formulating her thoughts was impossible. She might as well have been trying to construct a house with feathers. A slight gust of wind and the building toppled. Maybe a walk could clear my mind, she thought. Spike usually became drowsy at 10:45 pm. In three more hours, he would be asleep. In the meantime, she decided to invite him to accompany her. Twilight left her room and made her way through the hallways to Spike’s room.
Dim lamplight reflected on the crystal floor beneath his closed door. She knocked on the door, “Spike, I’m going for a walk. I’d really like you to come with me.” Twilight hoped she didn’t sound too forceful. When she did not receive a response, she wondered if Spike was doing a chore, but then noticed the light coming under the door. She taught Spike not to leave the lights on, and he followed this rule even though he was still afraid of the dark, or “uncomfortable” as he would say. Maybe he hadn’t heard her or forgot to turn off the lights? She knocked again. Still no response. Twilight opened the door and glanced inside, finding the room empty. As she went to turn off the lights, she noticed a paper folded into thirds on top of Spike’s bed. She picked the note with her magic and found “To Twilight” written outside. Despite her exhaustion, she recognized Spike’s handwriting. She opened the letter and read, even though the letters blurred in her eyes.
Hey Twilight. This is Spike. I’m sorry to do this, but given your condition, I felt I had no choice. Ever since you went to the ruins, you’ve been acting odd. You haven’t gotten any sleep or taken care of your royal duties. Don’t get me wrong, I love that you want to spend time with me, but I can’t enjoy our time together when I’m worrying about you. Equestria needs you, and you can’t do your job if you only ever think about me. That’s why I decided to give you a reason to get back to your work. I’ve taken your journal and royal seal. I’ve gone to the ruins to find the Eye of the Moon. When I come back with it, I hope you’ll remember how many ponies are counting on you.
Twilight’s body became rigid, her lips parted wordlessly as the letter fell to the floor. Her hoof pressed against her chest as her lungs heaved. For all she knew, the ancient ponies could have rigged the ruins with secret traps to keep ponies away from the Eye. Spike entered a booby-trapped coffin of stone alone with no knowledge of safe excavation. Her horn shimmered, adrenaline pumping through her veins, as she performed a teleportation spell.
Even in her groggy state, she managed to land several meters of walking distance near the ruins. Her exhaustion dissipated as her hooves thundered across the forest. She wasn’t going to lose Spike. Not now, not ever. She burst through the unguarded entrance and noticed ten ponies she recognized as archeologists crowding the center panel. None of them turned when she raced over to them. She glanced at each of them, absorbed in their notes and fixated on the panel. Twilight did not pay the new design much attention and almost asked the archeologists if they had seen Spike. As she opened her mouth, however, she saw the open space in the center of the panel and the stairway that fell into darkness.
She raced to the stairway, but an orange light flashed before her eyes and repelled her with elastic force. Twilight found herself lying on her back with a dazed head. She rose and narrowed her eyes. After that failure, the archeologists now noticed her.
“Hello Princess Twilight,” said a coffee colored mare. “Sorry, we should have told you about the field.” Twilight placed a tentative hoof near the open space. The orange field appeared again and jolted her back.
She turned to the mare, “Where did this come from?”
“Well,” the mare said, “ever since that dragon came by—.”
“Dragon?” Twilight’s eyes widened, “Was he small, purple, with green spikes?”
“Yeah, that was him,” a bright blue mare nodded. “He came with a royal seal and suggested we rearranged the tiles. We normally would have turned him away but then he showed us impressive notes and translations, detailing the origins of the ruins. With the royal seal and his research, he convinced us to give it a try.”
“Where is he?” Twilight said, although she suspected the answer. Her frantic state must have unnerved the archeologists, who shuffled with discomfort and avoided eye contact. Twilight inhaled sharply through her nostrils. She needed their help, no sense in getting them riled up. She said, “Please, he’s my friend.” Their gazes softened as they recognized Twilight’s distress.
The light blue mare smiled weakly, “Long story short, he opened this door with his fire breath and went in alone.”
“What?” Twilight’s jaw dropped then her face contorted with fury, “Why didn’t you stop him?”
“We were too excited by the discovery, and none of us thought to stop him,” said a cherry-maned stallion. “None of us could follow in after him. We just thought he knew what he was doing.”
“How long has he been down there?”
“Two hours, I think.”
Twilight paced across the panel, cursing herself and wondering how she let this happen. Her anger melted into a sea of panic. Spike was down there because she hadn’t kept an eye on him. The alicorn pursed her lips and turned to the open space. Twilight extended her wings, a white light wrapped around her horn. The wind howled around her body and the ground trembled as a blinding orb grew on top of her horn. The archeologists covered their eyes, awed by the power before them, and stumbled out of range. Twilight ignored the voices of several ponies as she took aim at the orange barrier.
The moment she unleashed her spell, a single voice reached her, “Please! You could knock down the ruins!” In a second, Twilight realized she could cause the stones to collapse on top of Spike. She jerked her horn upwards, but half of the blast had already struck the barrier with the force of a lightning bolt. Even as the rest of her spell poured harmlessly into the sky, Twilight felt the ground beneath her crumble. Hairline faults spread from the open panel into the surrounding tiles. Within the tunnels, she could hear boulders grinding into each other as they slammed into the ground. From the open space, a house-sized cloud of dirt escaped into the open air of the ruins and showered down.
Twilight’s eyes burned with despair and her nose became runny. How could she have been so shortsighted? Any pony with half a brain wouldn’t attack a potentially unstable tunnel and risk a rockslide. Now, she may have doomed Spike. The barrier was still present, though it glowed at half strength. All that, and she hadn’t even taken out the barrier.
“Hey, can you guys hear me?” A familiar voice called from deep in the tunnel. “I could really use some help.”
“Spike?” Twilight exclaimed, “Is that you?” The following silence was unbearable.
“Yeah, it’s me.” Twilight’s tears became relief. Her friend was still alive. Her relief vanished when she remembered he was still in the tunnel. “So,” the voice called again, “I’m guessing you found the letter. Was that blast just now yours?”
“Yes,” she said as she wiped her nose with her hoof. “I’m sorry. I was so worried. Just come out so I can hug you, you jerk.”
“That might be a problem,” Spike said with a tinge of fear on his voice. “I dropped my flashlight during that quake and it won’t turn back on. I must have broken it. This place is like a maze and I can’t tell where I’m going.”
Of course, Twilight thought, why should it be easy? She studied the weakened barrier. After witnessing an intense magical attack deplete the barrier, Twilight concluded the ancient ponies designed the barrier primarily to repel physical forces. There were powerful spells in ancient time. She surmised ancient ponies would focus on blocking other living creatures from entering, rather than bolstering magic defenses. Twilight had no intention to unleash another magical blast, but she saw another solution involving magic. Her horn shimmered violet, causing some of the archeologists to flinch as they anticipated another blast. Instead, an illuminating orb emerged at the tip of her horn. She aimed her horn into the barrier and rocketed the light past the orange field into the stairway. A lavender string, shining like a glow stick, trailed from her horn to the light orb.
“Spike,” she called, “I’m going to send in this little ball of light. Don’t move until you see it, then follow the trail back to me. Got it?”
“Got it,” he called. Twilight propelled the orb through the darkness, leaving a purple trail in its wake. After a minute of descending stairs, she sensed the orb had reached the ground. Although she could see the distant light from her perch, she had to squint to make out the light from this distance. Soon, the orb would vanish beyond her sight and then she would be working blind. From there, she would have to rely on her magical tactile senses. Spike’s voice sounded close, so she didn’t think he was too deep in the tunnels. She split the orb into two and placed them on the adjacent walls. After several feet, Twilight felt the corners of two new tunnels leading left and right. She split the orbs into four and put them on both sides of the walls to detect any other branching tunnels.
After splitting her orbs for what she thought was the one hundred and twentieth time, she became disheartened. In her depleted state, she probably couldn’t manage enough orbs to navigate the entire maze. Six archeologists approached her.
“Princess Twilight,” said the coffee colored mare, “some of us can perform that spell. We can help.”
“I’d appreciate it,” Twilight smiled without turning from the open gap. “I don’t think I could manage sixty more like this.”
“Sixty?” exclaimed a second mare with a bewildered face, “That’s more than what I could do.”
“Enough chatter,” the brown mare replied, “we’ve got to do what we can. It’s our fault he got down there with no pony stopping him, so it’s our job to help fix it.”
Soon, peach, maroon, light green, turquoise, scarlet, and gold orbs with trailing strands joined Twilight’s search. Even with their help, Spike told them he still couldn’t see their lights. He issued countless apologies to Twilight, which only exacerbated her stress.
“Twilight,” Spike called. “I’ve been breathing flames, trying to get my bearings, but I can’t tell where I am. I made a map of the place but I can’t figure out where I am.”
“You made a map?” Twilight asked, “Do you think you could guide us to you?”
“I can’t see it,” Spike said. “I was on the path I knew would lead me back, but the quake must have thrown me off the course. And the walls are too slippery to climb so I can’t tell where I am.”
Twilight’s eyes narrowed at Spike’s words, a thought forming in her mind. She heard rocks collapsing after her intense spell. Given the dense plume of dirt that the tunnel exhaled, something massive must have fallen. A wall could have fallen and blocked the usual path. Another thought crossed her mind.
“Do the maze walls reach the ceiling?”
A moment later, Spike replied, “Not perfectly. There’s about a foot or two of space.”
“I’m going to move my orbs one at a time to the top of the wall. Let me know when you see one, and head towards it.”
Her fur damp with sweat, her muscles straining past their natural limits, Twilight clenched her teeth and pressed on. After the twentieth orb, she began feeling fatigue.
“Wait Twilight, I see it!” Spike called. “I’m heading towards it.” After a painful ten minutes, Spike called again, “I found a line. I’m following it home.”
“Hurry,” Twilight groaned, “I don’t think we can last much longer.”
Three archeologists collapsed to the ground. The other three ponies had to drop the spell, exhausted by the effort. Their two friends, not performing the spell, worked those incapacitated ponies onto stretchers and carried them away. Twilight couldn’t drop even one orb, not when she didn’t know which one Spike was following. Thirty minutes later, the line extending from her horn blinkered. She wanted to call out and tell Spike to run, but she had to focus on her spell. She heard footsteps in the darkness, approaching from the stairs. Spike raced from the darkness out of the tunnel and crashed into Twilight in a bear hug, causing her to release the spell.
“Are you okay, Spike?” She inspected him. Aside from being covered with dirt, he had no bruises or injuries. The archeologists excused themselves to give the two some privacy.
“I’m fine, Twi,” he said.
“Good,” she sighed, releasing the tension she had been holding. Her eyebrows knitted and frown deepened. Before Spike could speak, she grabbed him by a frill, eliciting a yelp. She glowered, “You are in big trouble, mister.”
“I’m sorry for worrying you,” Spike said. “I really am. But before you punish me, please take a look at this.”
Spike reached into his knapsack. He retrieved an object he had to hold in both hands, and showed it to Twilight. He held a clear, lustrous, white circular crystal that bore a spiraling midnight blue phantom. When held under the full moon, the inner midnight blue phantom shimmered with thousands of tiny white lights that glowed like stars. Meanwhile, the outer layer resonated with the moon’s light, absorbing every speck. The crystal reflected the moon’s silver glow across the ruins in a circular field. Golden flames patterned the circle and flickered around the circle when Spike rotated the jewel in his hands. Twilight was not attracted to jewelry like Rarity but when she saw this gemstone, her jaw dropped. There was no doubt in her mind that this was the object that eluded all treasure hunters.
“The Eye of the Moon,” she whispered. After several moments of staring, she looked at Spike, “Ponies have been looking for this for millennia, and you found it in one afternoon?”
“Only with your notes,” Spike said as he offered her the crystal. She grabbed Spike’s knapsack and pulled out her journal. She ripped blank pages from the book and wrapped them around the crystal, forming several layers of protection. As its light faded, Twilight wrapped the final paper around the crystal and delicately placed it in the knapsack. Spike twiddled his fingers and pursed his lips, “I’m sorry for being so reckless. I just wanted you to get back to your studies. When I saw how excited you were about finding the Eye, I thought it could help.”
Twilight’s eyes remained fixed on the crystal, wrapped in several layers of paper. She wanted to analyze every aspect of the crystal, to postulate its origins, to bring it to academic attention. She was so excited just thinking about studying it that she could barely contain her excitement. But then, she looked at Spike and that excitement vanished. She zipped Spike’s backpack shut and faced him.
“My studies are not more important than you.”
Spike sighed, “Look, I love that you want to spend time with me, I really do,” he put a hand on his chest when remembered all the fun they had this week. He frowned, “But there are other important things that you just can’t ignore. You’ve got royal duties and academic research to do, you have to train Starlight, look after your own health, and keep Equestria safe.” Spike was on the verge of tears. He hated waving off Twilight’s kindness, but he couldn’t back down. “You can’t spend every moment doting on me.”
Twilight’s mouth opened, but an unintelligible sound emerged. Her eyes were wide and she felt a familiar lump in her throat. She snapped her eyes shut, blinking away tears, and screamed.
“I’ve already wasted most of my life studying magic, protecting Equestria, and spending time with my friends when I should have been making the most of the time we have left!” Twilight covered her mouth the instant the words slipped out.
“Time we have left?” Spike blinked in confusion, “What are you talking about?” He clasped his hands over his heart and gasped, “Are you sending me away?”
“No, of course not,” Twilight immediately replied. “It’s just …” She searched for the best words to express her emotions and her turmoil from the past few days, but staring into Spike’s green eyes left her tongue-tied. Spike stroked her hoof and smiled gently. Twilight looked at the dragon she called family, swallowed with nervous apprehension, and closed her eyes.
“Spike,” she stuttered, “you’re growing up, sometimes faster than I can keep track.” She opened her eyes, unable to deny what she knew to be fact. Then, she poured her emotions onto the little dragon, “Ever since we arrived in Ponyville, I’ve watched you become a mature dragon willing to risk his life for Equestria. All this time, I never realized you’ve been growing up. Just the other day when you reached that table without standing on your tippy toes, I guess it was a wake up call. You’re not that little baby I hatched in Canterlot. I wanted to make the most of the time we have left together before you outgrow me.”
The silence following her exclamation haunted Twilight. Spike stood before her, having dropped her hoof and staggered back a few feet. There was no hatred or resentment visible in his eyes, only shock.
“All this,” he gestured at the disheveled alicorn, “because I reached over a table?”
“You never could before. I guess I just…” her voice trailed off.
“I can’t believe you,” Spike sighed. He shook his head and closed his eyes. Twilight opened her mouth to protest when she noticed his lips curled into a smile. He opened his eyes and gazed at Twilight with pure adoration visible on his face.
“You taught me how to walk, how to talk, that two plus two equals four, and ‘i after e except after c.’”
His eyes watered as his face lit with a smile, “You showed me that hard work and diligence always pays off, that I don’t have to change to be like other dragons because I’m fine the way I am. That I have to take pride in my work, and that friends put aside their needs for others. You’re my friend, family, and my hero, Twilight.”
Tears fell down his beaming face as he took a step towards the lavender alicorn. “You’re a part of who I am.” Twilight felt tears forming in her eyes as Spike wrapped his arms around her chest. “Even if I grew bigger than the moon, I could never forget you. ”
“How can you be so sure?” Twilight couldn’t stop the fearful question that plagued her thoughts. “You say that now but what if—.”
“You want to know why I could never outgrow you?” Spike met her gaze. “Because no matter how much I grow, I’ll still have the same heart, and you’ll always be there.”
Joyful tears fell from Twilight’s eyes. She exclaimed “Oh Spike,” and she embraced him. “Thank you.”
Spike’s smile faded and his hug weakened. “Ever since we arrived in Ponyville, you’re the one whose been growing.” Twilight put her hoof on his shoulder as he left the hug and looked away from her. “A few years ago, I was probably the only friend you had but now you’ve made friends all across Equestria.”
Spike let out a soft smile that did not reach his eyes. “You’re the one who constantly risks her life for the world. If anything, I should be afraid of you outgrowing me.”
Twilight placed her hoof under Spike’s chin and guided his gaze to meet hers, “I told you once and I’ll tell you again. I’m never going to send you away.” She looked into his eyes with loving warmth, “Like you said, no matter what will happen I’ll still be me. No magical power or adventure could ever change who I am or what you mean to me.”
“And,” Spike twiddled his fingers, “what do I mean to you?”
“You’re the first friend I ever made. You’re my family. You keep me calm when I’m stressed. You remind me that there’s more to life than musty old books, that I shouldn’t try to be perfect, that it’s alright to fail so long as I never give up, that even as an alicorn I’m still the same pony you know and love. You’re proof that not matter what comes my way, I’ll always have friends beside me.”
She smiled, feeling all their fears flowing away. “You’re right, Spike. No matter what happens in the future, we face it together.” With that, they shared one last embrace, a promise to each other.
Twilight showed the Eye to the archeologists, but asserted that the Eye belonged to Spike as he discovered it. With his permission, she would give them the Eye for academic study. The one pony capable of speaking said that Twilight was more qualified to study the Eye than any of them. The other archeologists had to concur. While they and all of Canterlot were bumbling for answers to the ruins, Twilight and Spike solved the mystery on their own. Twilight promised to mention their invaluable help in her report when she sent the Eye to the Canterlot Museum. The coffee colored mare handed them a proper case for the jewel and waved them farewell. Twilight walked through the forest path with Spike on her back.
“So,” Spike said as they neared the train station, “you going to get back to your studies?”
“Well, first I’m going to write a letter to Princess Celestia.” Twilight said, “Then I should apologize to my friends for making them worry and mail the Eye to the Canterlot Museum after some tests.” They reached the platform and sat on the benches. Twilight frowned and glanced at Spike, “But when we get home, you’re grounded.”
“What? Why?” He opened his mouth indignantly.
Twilight gave him a stern but gentle look, “You ran away without telling me and could have gotten hurt. I know you wanted to get me back to work but you still went too far.”
Spike sighed. He should have known his good luck wouldn’t last forever. Although he had decent counterarguments, he felt too exhausted to fight back. As long as Twilight didn’t overwork herself, he could endure a day or two of reorganizing the library. He shrugged, “I guess that’s fair.”
“But, I think we can keep it short.” She hugged him. “Just a day or two. After all, we have tickets for that hoofball match this Friday.” Twilight laughed and Spike smiled. He was glad that his punishment wouldn’t last long and that they would still spend time together.
“I think I should be grounded too.” She said, “For making you and every pony worry. Until Friday, I won’t read my new Daring Doo book or any novels.”
“Don’t worry,” Spike said with a chuckle. “I’m going to make sure you’re too busy sleeping to do anything.”
Twilight inspected her letter under the lamplight once again.
Dear Princess Celestia,
Recently, I became worried that I have been neglecting Spike all these years to focus on my studies. I realized that he was growing up and didn’t want him to outgrow me, so I spent days devoting my time solely to him, which caused me to abandon several of my royal duties. Even when he voiced his concern, I was adamant on spending time with him. Once I just confessed my fears, I learned that a powerful bond of friendship and love connects Spike and me. Through all the time we have spent together, we’ve formed bonds cemented in our in our memories, our adventures, and our hearts. There’s no point for me to worry about growing. Neither of us can abandon the other, no matter how time changes us or tries to separate us because we’re a part of each other.
Sincerely,
Twilight Sparkle
PS: I’ve already bought us tickets to the Hoofball game this Friday so I won’t be available on that day until 5:00 pm. Hope you can understand.
“You done yet?” Spike asked with a wry smile. Twilight nodded and rolled up the scroll before handing it to Spike. He looked at her with a raised brow, “Do you really want to send Princess Celestia a letter at three in the morning?”
“Is it really that late? It’s past your,” a yawn escaped and colored her last word, “bedtime.”
“How about we send this when we wake up?” Spike suggested. Twilight nodded and slipped out of her chair. Spike turned off the lamp and placed the letter on the table. He grabbed Twilight’s hoof and led her to the bed.
As he tucked her under the covers and turned to leave, he felt a hoof wrapping around him and pulling him under the covers. He flinched in surprise and looked at his waist. Twilight’s purple hooves held him tight as the alicorn drifted into peaceful sleep. He scooted his head onto a pillow and made himself comfortable.
“Goodnight, Twilight.” He whispered into the darkness.
A sleepy voice soon replied, “Goodnight, Spike.”
The End