//------------------------------// // Chapter 16 Where Did We Go Wrong? // Story: Scaled Heights // by Zephyr Spark //------------------------------// Sky Chaser brushed past Yellow Bolt, not even giving him the courtesy of a passing glance, as he and two other Fillydelphia pegasi made their way to the starting line for the tag team races. Yellow Bolt didn’t bother looking at his teammates. He knew they were frustrated with him for not shooting Spike when he had the chance. If he had, their team would be ahead right now. His kindness—his hesitation cost them an outright win. Seeing little point in trying to converse with his teammates, he opted to head back to the locker room. It felt like a walk of shame. Alone in the lockers, he slumped down against the cold metal surface of a locker and bowed his head. Yellow knew nopony would blame Silver for shooting him. If Silver hadn’t, Spike could have beaten him and claimed total victory. And anyways, nopony really thought he could beat Spike; he was just a nobody, a trembling, snot-nosed mess, and he knew it. Even he didn’t think he could actually beat the dragon archer, so he couldn’t even blame Silver for shooting him. He only wondered why he never saw it coming. As he stewed in his self-loathing, his hoof brushed against a pamphlet left on the floor. He would have ignored it if it weren’t for the title: Sir Knight of Trottingham is Returning. One of the Trottingham ponies must have been passing it around to Fillydelphia. He levitated the pamphlet into his hooves and inspected the cover. The mere name Sir Knight brought back an old memory. Fillydelphia, fifteen years ago. “Wounded from his battle with the invaders, Sir Knight felt his life fading. No medicine could save him now. His fate was set with the rising sun. With the help of his squire Singleshot, the noble knight climbed to the highest tower to gaze over Trottingham. The island, once prosperous and peaceful, had fallen to civil war. Every pony, griffon, and dragon fought senselessly. The violence and impurity within their hearts had turned the kingdom to ruins. Even the sky turned red from all the innocent blood spilt.” Wide-eyed, Yellow Bolt saw the scene unfold as his father read the book. He shivered beneath the covers, frightened and yet thrilled by the bedtime story. Arrow Bolt glanced at the clock hanging on the wall. He realized he spoiled his son by reading an extra thirty minutes. “Come on, dad, finish the story,” Yellow said imploringly. “Please.” Arrow looked at his seven-year-old boy, so full of life. It was a sight that warmed his own heart. A smile worked its way through his bearded face. Try as he might, he couldn’t say no to that unassuming, sweet face that begged for more. Granted, Arrow was a little worried about his son staying awake all night, but no matter. The story must go on. With a brief chuckle, the brownish-grey stallion found his place in the book and kept reading. “Wordlessly, Sir Knight took Singleshot’s bow and drew an arrow, aiming at the rising sun. As the arrow flew from his bow, the string broke. The bolt flew through the air, splitting apart the red sky. When the arrow hit the sun, a brilliant beam of light burst forth, and sprinkled across the war-torn land. For that brief moment, all fighting ceased. When the golden shower diminished, rays of sunlight raced to Sir Knight’s face. ‘My time has come,’ he said to his loyal squire, ‘This world grows tired of me. Keep the spark of hope alive. For in time, I will return to this realm to undo the harm caused by those who would upset the peace. Perhaps not in this lifetime, but in another. Perhaps not in this body, but in another. Should the world need me, I will return with a mighty army to set things right.’ Noble Singleshot watched as his leader stepped into the light, his entire body blazing like a star. ‘Now, I return to the light.’ And with that his body evaporated with the dawn, as a new sun shone upon the world. The end.” “The end?” Yellow asked incredulously with tears in his eyes. “That can’t be the end! Sir Knight can’t die! He can’t.” “I know it seems sad, but look at it this way. He had to make way for the new age.” Closing the book, Arrow smiled. “And remember Sir Knight didn’t die. He simply faded into the light. When the world’s in peril again, he will return to save us all.” “Really?” “Of course. He couldn’t let any wicked dragons harm us. Wouldn’t be much of a knight then, would he?” “I hope I get to see him come back.” “You will,” Arrow said. “I know it. Now, it’s time for bed.” After turning off the lights, Arrow Bolt turned to walk away. He picked up his cloak and draped it over his shoulders. As he left the room, he pulled a small metal object from his coat pocket, a necklace of some kind, and latched it around his neck. Yellow couldn’t tell what it was, but in the glow of the hallway, Yellow could see his father smile. However, it wasn’t his usual smile. This smile didn’t reach the corner of his lips. It looked toothy, sinister, a monstrous leer. The dark green fur across his face rose as if it were being static shocked, his bright purple mane billowed in the windless corridor. For a moment, Yellow thought his father’s eyes brimming with a red aura. “Dad?” His father turned back. His eyes were the same bright violet they had always been. He had a face like a baby elephant; serene, unassuming. His smile was no longer sinister, but charming and patient. Completely normal. “Do you need another glass of water?” Asked Arrow. “No. I just wanted…” Yellow wanted to ask what his father put around his neck, but decided it didn’t concern him. So he put on his best innocent expression and said, “I just wanted to say that I love you.” Arrow’s smile widened, causing his eyes to squint. “I love you too, Yellow. Good night.” Of the few happy memories Yellow had left of his father, that was his favorite. It was five years before his father discovered his secret. Back when their family seemed to be normal. Yellow stared at the Sir Knight pamphlet for a moment. As he stared at it, his face gradually etched into a harsh frown, his teeth clenching down hard as bitter memories replaced the joyful ones of the past. He quickly crumpled the pamphlet into a wad, before chucking it across the room. “There are no heroes,” he realized. “They just die and fade away.” The paper ball flew into the corner and hit an invisible guest. He realized that he was no longer alone. His shoulders stiffened. Turning his gaze to the edge of the locker room, he found two dark pupils staring at him. As Honey Charm’s invisibility spell faded, Yellow realized her face bore a scowl as she marched towards him. “Silver said,” she paused, reluctant to say it. “He said you told Spike about my invisibility.” Yellow didn’t say anything, which confirmed her suspicions. Her eyes darkened. “Why?” “I don’t know,” He muttered. “Yesterday, I told him about my brothers, my dad.” Yellow Bolt swallowed an aching lump in his throat. “He promised that if they were the ones who attacked his friend, he’d spare their lives. He felt sorry for me. He even told me the first match today was Arrow Tag. I guess I thought it was only fair.” She was silent for a moment. Somehow, her calm demeanor hurt Yellow even more than any scowling or harsh words. “I didn’t think he’d get so far or that he’d start out right next to you. I thought—,” he stopped speaking altogether and shook his head. “I don’t have an excuse. I’m sorry I failed Fillydelphia. I should’ve shot him when I had the chance.” “Yellow, nopony blames you for not shooting him when you had the chance. If anything, they think it was a good show of sportsmanship.” “Sure they do,” he softly snorted. “You saw how my own teammates wouldn’t even look at me, how Silver shot me. You call that a show of praise?” She said nothing, seeing little point in consoling someone who lacked any sense of hope in himself. “Did you tell him anything else about me?” “Besides your real name? No.” He shook his head. “You’re angry at me?” She paused, hiding her swirling mess of emotions behind a calm facade. “A bit disappointed, I suppose. But I could never hate you. I just…” She sighed. “I need some time to think. And I believe you do too.” She faded back into air, leaving Yellow alone once again. The back of his head smashed into the metal locker. The clang echoed in the empty room. At the moment, he wasn’t sure who he hated the most; Spike, Fillydelphia, Silver Shine, his father, or himself. Baltimare’s Hospital: Thunder Star and Starlight did their best to watch the broadcast of the Games without cheering too loudly and bothering other patients. They had done a fine job keeping silent in their beds as the nurses and doctors worked around them. But the moment Spike caught the arrow and won, they both burst out clapping their hooves, which led to them being rather sternly hushed by the nurses. To the dismay of many nurses, the door to the patient room slammed opened, waking anyone who was sleeping. A blue unicorn with a purple cape and hat marched into the room, casting a little firework from the tip of her horn with each step. “Do not worry, dear Starlight,” she declared. “The Great and Powerful Trixie has arrived!” Starlight wanted to cover her face but Trixie was already heading towards her, brushing past every doctor and nurse. “Trixie came as soon as she heard that her best friend was in the hospital.” “How thoughtful.” Starlight tried to smile even as her face burned with embarrassment. “You shouldn’t have.” “Trixie knows this, but she simply had to come.” She placed a hoof over her chest. “Out of the goodness of her heart.” Miffed that Trixie’s loud voice was drowning out the TV, Thunder Star turned sharply. “Well, can The Great and Powerful Trixie stop referring to herself in the third person?” Trixie noticed the filly sitting in the bed adjacent to Starlight, who had just spoken up about Trixie’s use of pronouns. She didn’t look impressed by Trixie’s boasting. “And who,” Trixie said with a hint of distaste, “Is this?” Starlight gestured to the filly, “Trixie, Thunder Star. Thunder Star, Trixie.” “The same Trixie who tried to take over Ponyville?” Thunder Star said, raising an eyebrow. Trixie’s face flushed with embarrassment. This was not the kind of attention she wanted. “I’ll have you know that I was under the influence of an evil amulet at the time. I had no control over myself. And also that was ages ago. Everyone’s already forgiven me for that.” “Hah.” Thunder Star grinned. “And what about that makes you laugh?” “Made you say ‘I,’” Thunder Star said before turning her attention back to the TV. “Great and Powerful indeed.” Trixie opened her mouth to retort, but realized the filly had her beaten, quickly pulling her hat down to cover her bright red face. Even Starlight was smirking at the filly’s victory. “Trixie saved you all from the Changeling Invasion,” she pouted. “Show some respect.” “Do you mind?” The patient to their right growled. “Some of us are trying to sleep!” Trixie let out a little humph, before turning her head. “Listen, I’m glad you came to see me, really,” Said Starlight. “But next time please try not to be so … loud.” “But if Trixie isn’t loud, how can the world know that the Great and Powerful Trixie has come to see her best friend?” Trixie was oblivious of the nurses and bedridden patients scowling at her and her “best friend.” Starlight felt embarrassed, but there was no reasoning with Trixie. Thankfully, she had gotten through most of her boasting. And despite her quirks, Starlight was truly happy that Trixie cared so much about her, if anything it was simply part of what made Trixie who she was and Starlight didn’t want her to change. “Trixie apologizes for her tardiness, Starlight.” Her voice took on a more serious tone. For all her flashiness, Trixie truly cared for her friend. Starlight sighed. Trixie could be irritating, but at least she was an irritating friend. “It’s fine. Thanks for coming anyways.” “Trixie would’ve come sooner if it weren’t for the train breakdown and a stupid mob of ponies handing out Sir Knight pamphlets. They crowded the station for hours.” Thunder Star, who had been silently watching the Games while keeping an ear on the conversation, scoffed at the mention of Sir Knight. “Ponies who hand out that stuff are crazy,” she said without turning from the TV. “They always think Sir Knight’s gonna come back and give them their perfect world. Heck, five years ago, they thought Silver Shine was Sir Knight’s reincarnation or something. Then, they thought my brother was. They’ll think anypony skilled with a bow is the next Sir Knight. It’s just a load of hooey, some fairytale ponies tell their kids, not a real story.” Taken aback by Thunder’s abrasive assertion, Starlight blinked at the usually soft-spoken pony. “I take it you don’t like Sir Knight.” She shook her head. “Ponies used to harass my brother at work. They thought he was Sir Knight’s great-great-great-great-great grandson or something. They caused so much trouble that Silver had to ban them from visiting the archery range. Lightning was afraid he was going to lose his job and he had to file for a restraining order. It was all one big nightmare.” “I’m sorry. That must’ve been distressing.” “Yeah. It was. But what were they expecting? Every Crystal pony loves Spike. Did they think Lightning was any exception? He’d never want to hurt a dragon. Never.” They were all silent for a moment. Starlight wanted to defend her childhood story, but realized it was a source of stress for many ponies. “I always loved the story as a kid,” Starlight said. “I’m sorry someponies ruined it for you.” Thunder Star finally turned to Starlight. “Sorry I was harsh“It’s fine. Really. I guess you’ve just given me a lot to think about. I can see why you didn’t like the story after going through all that.” “To be honest, I didn’t like the story all that much before then either. It makes dragons look evil.” “Trixie always assumed the portrayal of dragons as beasts was meant to hyper-satirize the stereotype that all dragons are senseless monsters by making the dragons into unrealistic, over exaggerated caricatures, thus exposing the flaws of such beliefs. This can be supported by examining the omitted chapters where Sir Knight meets a noble, dragon, Sir Scale, who sacrifices himself to stop the pony barbarians and night demons. Sir Knight comes in with assumptions that the dragon will be a savage, initially overlooking Sir Scale’s strong moral code that underlies all of his actions, and in fact, shows more steadfast determination and chivalry than Sir Knight himself. Every other dragon becomes an unrealistic monster solely because they never receive the opportunity to be anything more.” They both glanced at her with wide eyes, disbelieving something so intelligent could come from Trixie, though they obviously would never say that aloud. Trixie noticed their stares and shrugged. “What? Trixie did literary analysis in school. Didn’t you?” Before either of them could respond, the TV made a little trumpet sound and transitioned to a title card: Analysis with End Zone. The title card then zoomed away, to show a mare in a reporting studio with an elderly stallion. “Hello,” she said, “I’m End Zone, here with an analysis and predictions segment. Joining me today is Instant Replay. Thanks for joining me today Now, Instant Replay you’ve been analyzing and making largely accurate predictions of the Equestria Games outcomes for over forty years. You’ve recently published your autobiography Instant Replay: Four Decades of Equestria Games.” “Ugh,” Thunder Star grumbled, as the mare reporter produced a copy of the book and began explaining where an Equestria Games fan could buy it. “I hate these little bits. They’re just interrupting the Games for some silly commentary, only this time it’s shameless cross-promotion too.” “Well, we could change the channel,” Starlight suggested. “Maybe the Games are on another one.” “I already asked. This is the only channel covering the Games available to the hospital.” Starlight was about to question the hospital’s limited options, when she heard End Zone mention Spike. “So, everypony’s talking about Ponyville’s archer, Spike the dragon,” Said End Zone. “Some think he’ll be the best archer this year while others think he can’t hope to match up to Silver and Lightning. After his strong showing in the Arrow Tag match, what are your thoughts on him?” Starlight beamed as a clip in the background showed highlights of the match: Spike smelling out Dark Spectre, rescuing Yellow Bolt from the collapsing wall, and finally catching Silver’s arrow from midair. To her, the clips definitively answered the newscaster’s question. “Well,” Instant Replay said with a faint smile. “While some would say his Arrow Tag performance was impressive, I think it proves that he doesn’t have what it takes to win the Equestria Games outright.” Starlight and Thunder Star frowned, perplexed. “What’s he talking about?” Starlight asked with a scowl. “Didn’t he see Spike in action? There shouldn’t be any doubt he’ll win.” Even the newscaster on TV seemed confused by Instant Replay’s less-than approving statement. Her smile faltered, dimming for a moment. “How so?” “For all his luck, he only managed to tie with four other competitors.” The stallion shrugged. “He had several opportunities where he could’ve taken first place easily. If he took down both Manehatten and Trottingham’s archers at the start of the match, that would have given him a four point lead in the end, but he botched the chance. He also had a chance to shoot Fillydelphia’s Team B archer when he froze. That would’ve sent him outside the maze away from the falling rocks. Instead he decided to play hero by risking himself.” “But most ponies believe it was a great show of sportsmanship.” “I’m not saying it wasn’t noble. In fact, it was a very fine display of sportsmanship and I would applaud him for it,” he said. “But it was needlessly reckless. He risked the safety of both Fillydelphia’s archer and himself. Had that archer been less merciful, Spike most certainly would’ve lost then. In my professional opinion, Spike, while talented, is simply too naïve and inexperienced to really win the Equestria Games.” Starlight folded her hooves across her chest, defensive and unconvinced. “Understandable, but he was able to beat Silver Shine in Arrow Tag, a feat that has never been accomplished up to this point and he did that in spite of his reckless actions,” End Zone said with some irritation. “Actually, another Fillydelphia archer by the name of Arrow Bolt beat him a few times.” “But never in an official Equestria Games match. You don’t think it’s incredible that Spike won?” “I don’t deny that. Certainly, he is skilled and has good intentions. Overall, he himself is an admirable individual and I wish we had more competitors—no—more people like him.” Instant Replay sighed. “I understand his appeal; he’s a young newcomer who ponies admire and respect, who backs up his talent with excellent moral character. But I have to judge him without emotional bias. His talent is impressive and his character more so. But in my experience, those good intentions don’t always play well into competitive sports.” “What about his victory against Dark Spectre?” “His victory against Dark Spectre was absolutely spectacular. In all my years, I’ve certainly never seen anyone sniff out their invisible competition,” Instant Replay said as he let out a chuckle. “But, he made the novice mistake of taking off his helmet. That kind casual disregard for safety would cost most archers their eye. He was extremely lucky Dark Spectre didn’t shoot him the second opportunity arose. Sooner or later, luck has to run out. Furthermore, it’s my theory that he knew about Dark Spectre’s invisibility magic, which explains why he was so on edge during the match. If this is true, then he managed to scrape by because he knew what to expect.” End Zone blinked, her eyes narrowing with skepticism. “What makes you assume that he knew that in advance?” “Simple really. Lightning Star is his mentor, and I imagine he keeps a close tab on his competitors, as most professional athletes do.” As Instant Replay spoke, the monitor behind him showed Lightning and Spike meeting up in the maze, agreeing to take on Silver together. Then it showed both of them in action working together against Silver’s barrage. “Lightning isn’t a fool. He knew that he’d need Spike to have any chance of beating Silver Shine, so he’d help him get to the final match by preparing him.” Thunder Star rolled her eyes. “Sure, that’s the reason my brother wanted to help Spike. For himself. You certainly can tell he’s the most selfish pony out there.” The bedridden filly’s voice was dripping with so much sarcasm she was practically choking on it. Starlight was also growing tired of this know-it-all talking down Spike. The pink unicorn asked her bedridden companion, “Are you sure there aren’t any other news stations focusing on the Games?” “Yeah.” Thunder sighed. “Believe me, I am.” “But everypony’s saying he’s the most talented archer we’ve seen in years,” End Zone spoke, her voice straining as she was clearly getting more agitated. “A lot of them will point to his victory against Silver to back up this point.” The monitor behind them once again faded, showing clips of Spike holding his own against Silver. Impressive as it was, the old stallion just smiled, with frankly unimpressed half-lidded eyes. “I’m glad you mentioned Silver. If Spike knew Dark Spectre’s power, then it’s not a stretch to imagine he also knew about Silver’s abilities. After all, his skill in teleportation is well documented. In my opinion, Spike’s victories would have been impossible if he didn’t have prior knowledge about their abilities. And keep in mind; Lightning Star had already worn down Silver before he went after Spike. So it’s not like Spike was really fighting Silver at his best. In fact, if he faced Silver one-on-one before Lightning, I’m certain he would’ve lost.” “Then what do you predict for him in the rest of the Games?” “Personally, I think he’ll be lucky to place first in any other event. Maybe he’ll place first in two or four matches in the first half, but beyond that,” Instant Replay paused, taking a moment to roll his shoulders in a half-apologetic gesture. With the unspoken apology out of the way, he said, “I believe Silver Shine will lead his team to victory.” The newscaster forehead crinkled in a scowl. “Because Silver is willing to do what Spike isn’t?” Obviously, End Zone did not approve of Silver shooting Yellow when his back was turned, a sentiment shared by many in the hospital. “Yes,” the stallion said with a frown, picking up the mare’s distaste. “But also because he’s more experienced and strategic. Take the Arrow Tag match. Silver clearly played the long game, making sure he had three points and that Spike got only two. That way, even if Spike tagged him, he could only manage a tie. Either way, Silver's team would’ve walked away with a gold medal.” He let his words sink in, and then he continued. “Spike showed he can think on the spot, but that doesn’t matter if Silver already has a plan to win the match in the end. It’s short-term, on the spot bursts of inspiration and luck versus carefully thought out plans that stretch the entire length of the Games. That’s why for all his skills, Spike can’t beat Silver in the long run.” “Why do you say that?” Asked End Zone. “Surely you can’t simply base your decision on those factors alone?” “He’s already made the mistake of overexerting himself in the first event. Neither Spike nor Lightning considered conserving their energy for the later matches. They felt a need to achieve a symbolic victory by beating Silver at his own game. But a single symbolic victory won’t matter if they exhaust themselves. And quite frankly, he’s just too softhearted, lacking the will to do what many would see as a necessary evil to achieve victory.” “Could he be right?” Starlight found herself wondering despite herself. “Much as I hate to admit it, he’s making a lot of sense, but…” She silently scolded herself. “Try to give Spike some credit. He defies some old coot’s prediction.” The elder was already talking once more. “Plenty of young archers have demonstrated promise only to fall flat in the long run. A single victory hardly predicts more victories. If Rainbow Dash wanted to make some kind of statement by letting a baby dragon compete, she certainly has. That is that Ponyville has no standards.” After a second of silence, he burst out into laughter. The further uneasy silence caused him to abruptly stop laughing and assume a serious tone. “Joking, of course. I’m sure Rainbow Dash is a wonderful mare. The point is I think she may have let her personal feelings influence her decision.” “Right,” the newscaster glanced at the camera, wondering when they’d cut back to the Games. “All that being said,” Instant Replay said with a hint of appreciation, “I’ve never analyzed a dragon archer before. His unique physiology could get him enough wins to defy my expectations. And he has the backing of most of Equestria; that could all go a long way. Otherwise, I think he’ll have better luck next year. Perhaps then Spike could come out a champion, after getting more experience.” “Well, thanks for your time. Anyways, let’s get back to the Games.” “Finally,” Said Thunder with a sigh of relief. “Anymore of that jerk and I’d go crazy.” Starlight wanted to agree but she couldn’t stop thinking about his argument. In many ways, he was right. Spike was kind. She’d always seen that at as good thing, but now combined with his inexperience, it seemed like a double-edged sword. Yet, for now, all she could do was hope that Spike would learn quickly and prevail when the time came. Coverage of the Games continued, just in time to film Rainbow Dash place first in the obstacle course. A reporter gave a quick summary of the nine shorter events that had already passed. Silver Shine’s Fillydelphia team led with five first place gold medals, while Ponyville and the Crystal Empire trailed by four. Looking at this score, Starlight found herself wondering if that stallion was correct. “Don’t worry about it,” Thunder Star said noticing Starlight’s expression. “The Games have only started. Anything can happen.” “Yeah,” Starlight said with a frown. “That’s what worries me.” Everyone in the stadium was so enrapt in the fourth archery contest, that not a single one of them saw the unwanted guest who sneaked his way into the field. His invisibility spell kept him hidden from sight, as the only archers capable of seeing through his illusion were busy with their contest. Neither his little brother nor his cousin saw him as he slipped into Ponyville’s tent. Like all team tents, it was a tarp suspended by four metal bars. Easy enough to infiltrate, and nopony around to stop him as he approached their drinking water. He levitated a tiny test tube, filled with a metallic white powder, from his saddlebag. Slowly, carefully, he sprinkled a few specks into the water. The fine-grained dust quickly dissolved, not so much as a trace. He used only a few milligrams so the debilitating effect would not be as noticeable. Even the lizard would have difficulty discerning what exactly was throwing off its aim by a few centimeters. Maybe if it was lucky, it would place fifth or sixth at best. The miniscule amount would barely even affect its teammates, so the lizard’s failures would seem completely its fault. After all, what excuse could it have when its teammates performed so admirably? He would have preferred to dump in much more, but he had his orders. He plugged up the test tube and turned his attention to an adjacent tent. With methodical steps that didn’t even leave a print in the grassy field, he slithered past the Crystal Empire tent. Part of him would have loved to poison Lightning, to take out a pro-dragon upstart and thin out the competition, but he knew that would make his sabotage too obvious. He had to throw them off by tampering only with a few of the teams that didn’t side with the lizard. He made his way to the Baltimare tent and came to their drinking water. He unplugged the test tube and dropped grams of the vile powder into the barrel. It was far more than what he put in Ponyville’s water. By the end of the first quarter, they’d be lucky just to see four feet ahead of herself and their archer would be luckier to still hold a bow. “Sorry, Honey Charm,” he whispered beneath the roaring crowd. “I can’t let you recognize me. Just following orders.” He snuck over to Manehatten and repeated the process, then to the Trottingham tents. As the spectators cheered for the lizard Spike who scored another first-place victory, the phantom dipped the powder into Trottingham Team B’s water. Within seconds, the powder dissolved, becoming more invisible than the saboteur himself. His work finished, White Bolt took a moment to glower at the lizard. This upstart had risen too far too fast and it was time for him to fall. Soon, those crowds wouldn’t be cheering for that thing then. His gaze turned to Yellow Bolt, still as sulky and ill-tempered as the day he left them. For a moment, White Bolt found himself stuck between disgust and pity. He just didn’t know how to feel about his little brother anymore, but gradually pity and love won out. White Bolt wished he could fix his brother, not just his orientation, but fix him back to the way he was before their father had to have him beaten. Back when he showed so much promise. White Bolt blamed himself. If he’d kept a better watch over Yellow, then maybe he never would have gone to Dragon Town. Then at least, they’d still be brothers. “When the time comes,” he told himself, “I’ll know where you stand, Yellow. Perhaps, this time you’ll pick your real family.” Then he left, just as silently and unseen as he arrived. The fourth archery event ended, with Spike in first place, Lightning and Silver tying for second, Dark Spectre in third place, and Yellow Bolt placing fourth. Each archer returned to their respective tents, either with their head held high or in Yellow’s case, his still sulking face cast low. If Silver’s teammates expected to see their archer return with an irritated scowl at losing to Spike, they were practically floored to instead find him beaming. Even though Spike now led the archers with three first place medals, Silver returned to his tent, exhilarated, still bursting with energy from his Arrow Tag match and his mind still racing from their last contest. Never in his wild dreams did he imagine Spike beating him. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt so alive. As he sat down beneath his team tent, Silver smiled. He was glad he stayed healthy long enough to compete against Spike this year. “Silver?” One of his teammates said, “Did you hear what I just said?” Silver shook his head. “Sorry, I was thinking.” His teammate rolled his eyes. “I asked ‘What’s going through your head?’” “Quite a bit, actually.” Silver touched the tips of his hooves in thought. “I have this gut feeling about others. One that gives me an idea about how good they are at archery, and just how far they’ll push me. Usually, my gut’s never wrong. It’s predicted every disappointment and every worthwhile competitor I’ve ever known. But right now, it feels like it’s in free-fall, like it’s tossing and turning, spinning like a top.” “Meaning?” “I’m absolutely thrilled. I’ve only felt this kind of exhilaration from three others: Arrow Bolt, Lightning Star, and now Spike.” Silver’s eyes took on a nostalgic gleam. “Arrow pushed me to my absolute limits. He made me the archer and teleporter I am today. When he retired and gave up archery, I thought my days were done. Nopony could match me. It was all too easy, so why bother continuing? But then, Lightning came along and stirred my old soul in Ice Archery and dozens of other contests, where I was undefeated. But Spike, he just might be the first one who has ever stared me down like that, unafraid.” “Plus, he beat you in Arrow Tag,” said their racer pegasus. Another teammate, their weightlifter, scowled at the pegasus. “Technically, it was a tie.” “Lightning Star couldn’t do what that boy did,” Silver Shine exclaimed with a smirk. “Eh, I guess he’s pretty good,” said the weightlifter with nonchalance. Silver’s eyes widened with excitement. “If only you could’ve seen his eyes when we fought. They were practically glowing.” He recalled those blazing emerald serpentine eyes aimed at him as they fought. Those eyes echoed determination. In the vast green inferno, Silver could see a single message, carved into those eyes: “I will not lose. Not to you.” He could still feel their burning gaze. Just the memory still sent chills down his spine. “I came here with a plan to win, a long-term strategy. But that archer,” Silver grinned. “He’s something else. He’s got that spark.” “Spark?” His teammate frowned. “You mean like Twilight Sparkle?” He asked jokingly. “No, I mean that spark. That flash of talent and promise that only comes around once every century. You don’t know how to explain it, but you know it when you see it. I recognized it the moment I saw Lightning Star pick up a bow. But just now, I saw glimmers of that spark in Spike as we fought and in full force when he caught that arrow. He has potential, great potential.” Silver stared at the dragon as he sat beneath his tent, cheering for his own teammate, Applejack, in the Mare’s Weight Toss. “So much potential I can’t tell where it ends,” he said with a hint of awe. “I can’t begin to imagine how far he’ll go. Or how much he’ll grow.” Silence rained under the tent, like a cocoon insulating them from the roaring crowd. Silver was not one to give compliments lightly, but this, this was outright praise, practically worship. Each of them had to look at Spike with a newfound appreciation, witnessing how he won Silver’s praise. Their weightlifter broke the silence by clearing his throat. “You think he’s gonna be the next Sir Knight or something?” “Hmm,” Silver mumbled thoughtfully. The weightlifter’s smile dimmed, wondering if Silver was seriously considering this dragon was the reincarnation of a fairytale hero. He shook his head. “I was joking.” “I know,” Said Silver with a voice layered with weariness and age. “You just made me think of someone, that’s all.” Almost thirty-five years ago, the Fillydelphia archery range. That night, Silver waited almost an hour in his private Arrow Tag ring, before Arrow Bolt finally ran into the ring. His purple mane rolled across his back like loose bundles of hay as the grassy stallion panted with wide violet eyes. His dark green sides heaved beneath his cloak. “You’re late,” mused Silver, more piqued than annoyed. “Sorry,” Arrow said sheepishly, ruffling the folds of his dark clothes. “I was finishing up a bedtime story for Yellow.” “And it took an extra hour?” Arrow rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, you see, Yellow kept asking for another chapter of Sir Knight, and I didn’t feel comfortable leaving him on a cliffhanger that could keep him up all night—.” “Which means he made puppy eyes and you said yes,” Silver said with a smirk. “Well,” Arrow said with a shrug. “If you want to put it so bluntly.” Silver rolled his eyes. “You keep spoiling that boy, he’ll end up more narcissistic than you. Then how’s he gonna lead the Crusaders? I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again: You’re too lenient to be a dad.” “Possibly,” Arrow said with a laugh. “But do we really want to compare parenting records? Two of my boys already set records in the Games.” “You got me there,” Silver said with a chuckle. “You’re proud of those boys. I can tell.” “Well, they’re all I have left.” Arrow looked despondent for a split second. But he worked a smile onto his face. “Anyways, Iron Bolt’s training for the Games. He does weightlifting everyday. And Yellow is very talented. I have him training on archery everyday after school. He takes to it like a fish to water. As long as he stays healthy, he’ll be an incredible archer someday.” “Good. I look forward to the day I get to take him on,” Silver said as he levitated a barricade into place for their Arrow Tag match. He turned around to realize Arrow had already set up nineteen other barricades. Arrow turned around, with a look of superiority. “Sure you want to take on the son of Sir Knight?” Silver sighed, amused at the joke. “If he’s the son of Sir Knight, then I’m the son of Nightmare Moon.” Instead of laughing, Arrow Bolt frowned. He put on his saddlebags quivers and strung his bow. Silver had a sense that Arrow was deeply offended. This wasn’t the first time Arrow called himself Sir Knight. But it wasn’t out of narcissism or humor; it seemed genuine. As if he actually believed it. Silver shook his head, irritated. “Look,” said Silver, “just because ponies call us that doesn’t make it true. Besides, Sir Knight’s just a fairytale. A made up story.” “Stories have power, Silver,” Said Arrow as he inspected his bow without sparing Silver so much as a second glance. “Stories rooted in truths, in ideals, are unstoppable. The leaders that embody those truths and ideals are beacons. That’s what Sir Knight is; a hero rooted in truth and justice, who inspired countless others to follow his example. And that’s what we are. That’s why the Creed will continue to grow, because of us. We’re the beacons pulling followers towards us, towards our ideals. But you won’t accept your role. You won’t let them call you Sir Knight. That’s why they don’t believe in you. But I let them. That’s the reason they chose me to be Grandmaster of the Creed. That’s why they believe in me. I’m willing to be their beacon, their hope. And believe me, I will be. Because, my cause and my life are rooted in truths.” Silver Shine felt uncomfortable. Arrow’s intensity and ferocious belief were unnerving at times. In the dim light, he could almost swear that Arrow’s eyes were leaking an unnatural crimson aura. A chain around Arrow’s neck, slipping beneath his cloak, shimmered a deep red. Silver couldn’t see what was on the other end of the chain, beneath Arrow’s cloak; perhaps a jewel of some kind. Whatever it was, it made Silver nervous, even after the aura evaporated from Arrow’s eyes and the light ceased to burst forth. He wanted to change the subject, pretend like that whole scene never happened. He would have quipped about how Arrow had to beat him in Arrow Tag first before he could call himself Sir Knight, the greatest archer in the world. But Arrow’s posture showed he was in no joking mood. “So,” Silver began. “Do you really think we’ll need twenty of these barricades?” Arrow glanced back at his friend with an innocent smile so wide it made his eyes squint. That smile dipped into a mischievous narrow-eyed smirk. “You might.” “Oh?” Silver said raising an intrigued eyebrow. “I’ve been working on a spell. You know the one I tried on you last month during our match?” “Yeah, I think I know which one you’re talking about. What about it?” “I think I found a way of perfecting it. Making the effects last much longer,” Arrow said as he stretched his legs. “If it’s alright, I’d like to test it out.” “Fine,” Silver said. “But when we’re done, you better spend some time and help me clean up our mess.” “Silver, I’ve told you before,” Said Arrow. “When it comes to cleaning, I’ve got two modes: fast and terrible or slow and terrible. Which one do you want? Cause when we’re done, we gotta go home.” Silver sighed. “I guess I’ll take fast and terrible then.” He went to his starting place on the other end of the field and smiled. In all his years, he was sure he’d never find anyone else so full of life. Silver doubted there would ever be another archer who could drive him to be the best of the best or who could make his heart burn with so much life. A blaring horn broke Silver from his memories. The Mare’s Weight Toss ended, with Ponyville’s Applejack taking first place. It didn’t really matter, Silver knew his team would win in the end, even with Spike and Lightning Star. He’d planned everything out. They might lose a few contests, but in the end, they would win the Games. There were two more events before the next archery contest. That would give his team a chance to pull ahead. Besides, he doubted Spike could keep up for much longer. Then again, he wouldn’t complain if the dragon could keep up the fight. He glanced at Ponyville tent, where Spike sat downing a cup of water. Silver noticed the dragon panting, rubbing his eyes, swaying ever so slightly. It seemed Spike was getting tired much sooner than Silver anticipated. “A little disappointing,” Silver thought. “I’d hoped he’d last longer. Nonetheless, I’m here to reclaim my archery championship title. And I will do just that.” “Medals translate to points depending on their ranking,” Explained the mare on the TV, End Zone. Thunder Star groaned, “This again? In the middle of the Games? Really?” Starlight shushed her. “I don’t know how it works. I’d like to listen.” Thunder Star grumbled, but went silent. A board appeared behind the mare on the TV started showing numbers and how the scores worked. “A First Place Medal, also known as the Gold Medal, is worth ten points,” Said End Zone. “Gaining enough of these can put a team drastically ahead of its competitors.” “No duh,” Thunder murmured. “Just get back to the Games.” Trixie huffed. From her seat, she swiveled her head to glance at Thunder. “The Great and Powerful Trixie wishes for Thunder Star to remain silent in her presence so that Trixie may listen to the TV.” “We’re just hanging out, you don’t need to use your stage name,” Said Thunder with exasperation. “Look, we’re in a hospital surrounded by nurses and patients,” Trixie growled under her breath. “I’ve done everything to cultivate this stage character, I can’t go dropping it whenever I feel like it. Then ponies will think it’s all a sham.” “Fine,” Thunder Star groaned. “Just keep your ‘Great and Powerful’ shtick to a minimum, please.” “The Great and Powerful Trixie will try,” her voice resumed its haughty tone. “However, the Great and Powerful Trixie must always be addressed with the respect due to her, as she is always great and powerful.” “Great and Powerful my flank. I bet you can’t even tell when you’re speaking in the third person.” "The Great and Powerful Trixie is always aware of herself, her self-awareness is unparalleled. This is why she never refers to herself in the third person by accident.” Thunder gave a flat expression. “Thanks for proving my point. You said it better than I ever could.” Failing to pick up the filly’s sarcasm, Trixie nodded wisely. “The Great and Powerful Trixie is always willing to help those she deems worthy of helping. Her powers of speech are unmatched.” “Clearly.” Starlight sighed. “Will both of you just stop bickering for one minute?” The mare on the TV continued, “A Second Place Medal, or a Silver Medal, is worth five points. A Third Place Medal, or a Bronze Medal, is worth four points. The rest go into descending order; that is Fourth Place is three points, Fifth Place is two points, and Sixth Place is one points. Anything below this doesn’t receive any points. Technically, the winner might not be determined by who scores the most Gold Medals, but by whoever ends up with the highest total.” “Which of course means the most Gold Medals, because they’re worth ten bucking points,” Thunder Star said as she rolled her eyes, not impressed by the mare’s analysis. “You really don’t like this mare, do you?” Said Starlight. “I like her just fine,” Thunder said. “But I want to watch Lightning and Spike, not listen to this drivel.” “Trixie believes you are being disrespectful to the TV mare who is trying to explain the rules to any newcomers to the Equestria Games, but Trixie is doing her best to reserve judgment,” said the blue unicorn rapidly, between the speaker’s words when she paused for a breath. “Trixie imagines you’ve grown irritated having been cooped up in a hospital for most of your life, and now given the chance to watch your brother and your idol Spike go against each other, you want to watch every exhilarating detail, as you feel that you can live vicariously through Spike. Therefore, the Great and Powerful Trixie will be patient with Thunder Star and assume she is not intentionally trying to be snarky.” Slack-jawed, Starlight and Thunder Star turned to Trixie and blinked, dumbfounded. Thunder tried to form words but between absorbing Trixie’s lengthy, well-formulated speech and trying to comprehend how Trixie made such a lengthy, articulate speech, she, ironically enough, found herself speechless. Starlight managed a quiet, “What?” “Trixie studied child psychology once,” she explained, with her eyes glued to the TV. “Trixie entertained notions of going into the psychology field, but the lab hours required for the degree were absurd. Eight to eleven-thirty pm? No thank you!” Thunder Star blinked a moment, then let out a laugh. A sweet, hearty laugh. She laughed so hard it made her cry. “What’s so funny?” Trixie asked. “Oh, nothing. It’s just,” Thunder said as she rubbed her eyes wet with mirthful tears, “For a second there, you reminded me of my brother. He’s a bookworm too. Sometimes he says the smartest things without even realizing it.” Trixie frowned. “How can you say smart things without realizing it? He must not be very self-aware. Otherwise, the Great and Powerful Trixie would infer that he’s either suffers low self-esteem or is just exceedingly humble. Humble ponies like Trixie don’t tend to consider that there is any extraordinary merit within our words.” “See?” Exclaimed Thunder. “Right there. You did it again.” “What exactly did the Great and Powerful Trixie do?” Starlight let out a smile. After a rocky start, she was relieved her friends seemed to be getting along. “If only everypony could find common ground this easily,” Starlight thought. “Then maybe the world would be a better place.” Her thoughts were interrupted when she turned to the TV. The Games were back on. But something was wrong. The scores showed something that didn’t make sense. Spike hadn’t placed first since the fourth archery event. Every following archery event had him scoring in third place. Starlight thought this was a mistake until she watched the tenth archery event unfold. Spike was moving too slowly, blinking too much, and struggling just to keep up. By the time the event ended, Lightning, Silver, and Yellow had tied for first, while he placed third behind the Las Pegasus archer. Starlight wished her eyes were deceiving her, but the truth was right in front of her: Ponyville was losing. “What’s wrong with me?” Spike wondered as he walked back to his teammates, crestfallen. He placed third for the fifth time, letting Yellow, Lightning, and Silver hog most of the first place medals. So far, Silver only scored first or second place in archery contests, never anything less. But he’d been falling behind, and he couldn’t figure out why. Spike had felt fine a few matches ago, but now he felt off, something he couldn’t explain. Something just didn’t feel right. Yet, whatever it was, he’d allowed Ponyville to fall behind the Crystal Empire and Fillydelphia Team A. “Hey, it’s alright,” Rainbow Dash said, patting his back as he walked back into their tent. “Sometimes, things like this happen.” Spike nodded numbly. “You already got us three gold place medals,” Applejack said. “That ain’t bad at all. Why, if we get a few more gold medals we’ll be in the lead before this half of the Games ends.” “And even if we don’t,” Bulk said, “There’s still another quarter to turn this all around. So buck up little buddy.” He did his best to swallow his disappointment and smile. So many across Equestria were looking to him for inspiration. He would not let them see him afraid or disheartened. Still, he couldn’t shake off the feeling that something was amiss. “Are you feeling okay, Spike?” Asked Fluttershy with concern. Spike rubbed his head. “I’m not sure, I’ve been feeling a little dizzy lately.” “You too?” Said Applejack. “I’ve been feeling a little wobbly myself. I thought I was just tired.” “Me three.” Bulk frowned. “Are we getting cramps or something?” “Well, maybe we’re all dehydrated. Get some more water,” Rainbow Dash suggested. After downing a cup of water, she stretched, arching her back and extending her legs. “Now, I gotta get our Triathlon gold medal.” “Go get em, Rainbow,” Applejack grinned. “YEAH!” Bulk exclaimed. “Get us ALL the medals!” Spike glanced at the water barrel, and decided to take another swig. He drank at least five paper cones of water. Feeling his thirst quenched, he turned his attention to the Games. It may have been his imagination but Rainbow Dash looked a bit unsteady as she made her way to the starting line. His eyes honed from archery could see there was something wrong with this whole picture. Before he could ponder these thoughts any further, the race began. Spike would have cheered for Dash with his teammates, but he noticed something strange. He glanced to the Baltimare tent and saw Honey Charm swaying unevenly. She was blinking every few seconds and muttering something unintelligible. But everypony else seemed fine. Lightning, Yellow, and Silver were all sitting comfortably beneath their tents. He could’ve sworn Yellow was staring at Honey Charm, trying to get her attention. Did he think there was something wrong with her too? A sharp cheer caught his ear, breaking through his thoughts and bringing him back to the Triathlon. He couldn’t believe his eyes. Rainbow Dash wasn’t leading the pack. She wasn’t even second place. Fillydelphia’s Team A and Team B ponies were neck and neck. Still, there was four hundred kilometers left to run. She could take back the lead. Spike knew she was more than fast enough to win this. So why was she lagging behind? A thought crossed his mind, a strange thought that he knew he couldn’t prove. “Is she sick?” he murmured to himself. “Are we all getting sick?” No pony heard him over the roaring crowd. Part of him was content to just accept the losses were his own fault and not some nameless virus, but as he watched Rainbow Dash of all ponies barely manage to place third in a race she should’ve by all rights won, he felt that his concerns were more than just a result of self doubt. His teammates seemed to share his sentiment, the entire group seeming unable to process what they had seen. “She lost?” Bulk said, disbelievingly. “But, she never loses the Triathlon.” His friends spoke, but they seemed to slip into the corner of Spike’s mind. He didn’t want to lose, not in front of all these ponies. He didn’t want to fail them, to disappoint them. But if Rainbow Dash couldn’t win in her own Triathlon, what hope did he have? “Spike?” Fluttershy’s distant voice shook him. “Spike what’s wrong?” Her voice seemed to reverberate, as though it came from the far end of a deep cave. “Spike?” His hands clutched his stomach, and perspiration poured down his sick face. He looked like a green lollipop dribbling with sticky sweat. Blinking several times, Spike managed to clear his vision. “I’m fine, Fluttershy,” he said. “Perfectly fine.” Thirty Minutes later: She was getting anxious. A hospital was the last place Rainbow Dash wanted to be. Waiting for an update on her teammate’s condition even less so. She paced across the floor, waiting for a doctor to come out. Her headache and dizziness had long passed. All of her teammates were feeling better from the strange, inexplicable sickness. After a doctor checked her, he declared she was perfectly healthy. Now, she had to wait, and hope her friend wasn’t hurt. So much went wrong in the last event when ponies started collapsing and falling in the middle of the contest. Accidents happened, athletes were injured, and Ponyville’s score was the least of their worries. Fluttershy stared at the ground, anxious. She sat in a chair in the waiting room with Applejack, doing their best to ignore the reporters on the TV. They were covering the first half of the Games and the final scores, taking special time to highlight how Ponyville had managed to drop behind the Crystal Empire as well as both Fillydelphia teams. While the shy pony would’ve opted to blame herself, the TV announcers saw fit to place the fault entirely on Spike. Under any other circumstance, she hated feeling like she was the one who failed everypony, but she’d take all their criticism and scorn just to make them stop talking about Spike. “After a promising start, young Ponyville archer Spike quickly fell behind the other archers, only managing third place or lower in the remaining events of the first half,” said the stallion on the TV. “In total, he managed to win only three gold place medals, two of which were won through outright ties.” A board flashed on the screen, showing the painful final scores of each archer and ranking them. Fourth Place: Spike: 3 First Place, 2 Second Place, 5 Third Place, and 1 Fourth Place: 59 points. Third Place: Yellow Bolt: 5 First Place, 1 Second Place, 5 Fourth Place, 1 Fifth Place: 72 points. Second Place: Lightning Star: 6 First Place, 3 Second Place, 1 Third Place: 79 points. And finally, First Place: Silver Shine: 7 First Place and 3 Second Place: 95 points. Applejack snorted contemptuously. “They’re supposed to score us as a team, not individually. What a load of horse-apples.” Rainbow Dash broke from her pacing and snapped. “Would you stop paying attention to that thing?” Neither Fluttershy nor Applejack replied to her harsh rebuke. She was just nervous. They all were. The last event ended in catastrophe, and now their teammate was hospitalized. Not helping were the glances cast in their direction by other ponies in the waiting room, full of disappointment and derision. They all had high hopes for Ponyville and for Spike. But he only fumbled at the last stretch. For someone who talked a big game in the Arrow Tag match, Spike couldn’t back up his words with actual talent. After the fourth archery match, he couldn’t score so much as a second place. The TV displayed the top four teams and their scores, confirming that Ponyville had indeed failed. 1st Place: Fillydelphia Team A 18 First Place Medals. 5 Second Place Medals. 3 Third Place Medals. 3 Fourth Place Medals. 2 Fifth Place Medals. 1 Sixth Place Medal. 231 points. Silver Shine’s team had taken almost half of all the gold medals in just the first half of the Games. Their performance was practically flawless, with each member winning at least three gold medals. 2nd Place: Fillydelphia Team B 13 First Place Medals. 6 Second Place Medals. 5 Third Place Medals. 6 Fourth Place Medals. 2 Fifth Place Medals. 1 Sixth Place Medal. 203 points. How did a team that started so miserably end up with 13 gold medals? All signs pointed to Yellow Bolt. He practically symbolized their progression. To many, he started out an unpopular, unknown, whiny loser, but by the sixth archery event, he was back to tying in first with Silver and Lightning, even seizing his own gold medals over them and regaining the support of much of the crowd. He and his team dominated remaining half, scoring consecutive first place medals. Ponies were now saying that he was the archer to watch out for, that he was the rising talent, the next Lightning Star. Just thinking about it made Applejack scowl so hard it hurt her forehead. How did that pompous brat do so well? 3rd Place: Crystal Empire 12 First Place Medals. 8 Second Place Medals. 4 Third Place Medals. 1 Fourth Place Medal. 2 Fifth Place Medals. 1 Sixth Place Medal. 184 points. The commentators made a brief remark how the Crystal Empire could be within striking range to take back second or maybe even first place. Then came the failure they built up to, the losing team that received more attention than the actual winning team. 4th Place: Ponyville 9 First Place Medals. 6 Second Place Medals. 6 Third Place Medals. 2 Fourth Place. 4 Fifth Place. 4 Sixth Place. 162 points. They said things about each teammate, taking time to dissect their performances and respective failures. But they dwelt especially long on Spike, blaming Ponyville’s underperformance on him. The mare on the TV, End Zone, even cited the earlier predictions made by Instant Replay of Spike’s likely failures. Overall, the consensus, Spike was indeed, too inexperienced and naïve to keep up with professional archers. And just to add more salt to the wound, she even mentioned her disappointment, how until now she’d been adamant in her support of Spike. Another commentators danced around the idea of Prince Blueblood banning Spike, pointing to several arguments against his species, age, and his connections to royalty and radical dragon-sympathizers. “Good for nothing, lousy ponies,” grumbled Applejack. “Why don’t you say all that to our faces?” For all their criticism and empty rhetoric, Fluttershy had an idea of why the announcers were truly so hard on Ponyville. Four teams, all opposed to Spike’s participation, had fallen ill in the last part of the Games. Athletes collapsed on the field, needing to be carted off to the hospital. Dark Spectre actually hurled in the middle of the Games and had to be escorted off the field with the rest of Baltimare’s team. Suddenly, it looked like Ponyville and her allies were cheating, poisoning the other teams to gain an edge. Prince Blueblood only served to escalate matters when he made a big display of taking away Rainbow Dash, King Thorax, and Dragon Lord Ember for questioning. Twilight didn’t help either when she intervened on their behalf, reminding the Prince that she had a very dangerous friend waiting for his invite. Within minutes, crazed ponies seized on this narrative, driving a theory of sabotage. They made it seem less farfetched; “Realizing they’re falling behind, Ponyville turns to poisoning its competition, desperate to further their pro-dragon agenda.” At the center of it all: Spike. If he never came to the Games, if Rainbow Dash never brought him in to compete, none of this would have happened. Rainbow Dash couldn’t dwell on how the first round of the Games turned out, or that she lost her Triathlon record to Fillydelphia. She couldn’t even muster any anger at the TV, Prince Blueblood, or all the ponies doubting them. Ruminating on the disappointing outcome seemed trivial, especially now. She just wanted to know if her friend would recover, if her teammate could still compete. Ponies came by to give her their condolences, from Spitfire and Cloudsdale to Baltimare and even Griffonstone. They were all worried about him. Even if he was Ponyville, he was the one athlete everyone genuinely liked. At last the doctor came back out. Rainbow Dash rushed to him. “So, how is he?” The doctor smiled and said, “He’s going to be fine. His injuries aren’t too bad and he should recover in time.” “Oh, thank goodness,” Rainbow Dash sighed with uncharacteristic relief. Applejack and Fluttershy joined her in sighing with relief. For a moment, they feared the worst. But that relief was erased with the doctor’s next words. “But I’m afraid he’s in no condition to participate in the Games. With the injuries he’s sustained, he just shouldn’t.” Silence swept the Ponyville athletes. A dreadful realization struck Rainbow Dash as her heart sank. “If he can’t participate anymore, we’re finished. We won’t win enough first place medals to take this Game back. We’ve lost.” 30 minutes ago; the Equestria Games: Spike trudged back to the Ponyville tent, defeated. He could already see the headlines to this catastrophe: Ponyville’s Archer Under Performs: Dragon can’t beat Fillydelphia. Somehow, Silver managed to end up with seven gold medals; almost half of the total archery events. Even Yellow surged ahead of him with five gold medals. And if that wasn’t bad enough, as miserable as he felt, he could tell the crowds were even more disappointed. Ponies were upset he got their expectations up at first only to fall short as the Game continued, dragons were disappointed he couldn’t represent them as a powerful, talented species worthy of respect, and everyone else was disappointed that he couldn’t match up to Fillydelphia’s archers. So much for the “Dragon Ace.” His teammates offered some encouraging words, and he did his best to smile, even though he was breaking apart inside. All his effort, all of his hard work and passion, did it all really amount to nothing? The only things keeping him going were his friends and dedicated followers, calmly and patiently supporting him. They were the reason he could lift up his head and keep marching out into the field. If he didn’t have them cheering him on, he might not even have gotten third place. He didn’t have time to dwell on these thoughts as Bulk Biceps took to the field for the final contest of the first half: Weightlifting. Spike was feeling a little bit less dizzy as he sat beneath the shade of the tent. Ponies moved barbells, benches, and dozens of iron weights onto the field. As they set up and weightlifters from other teams came onto the field, Bulk took a moment to turn around to Rainbow Dash and the rest of Ponyville and nod, silently promising to win them a medal. Referees came onto the field and stood at each bench, waiting for the pegasi weightlifters to pair up. Bulk turned to a muscular Trottingham stallion, and extended his hoof. The stallion regarded him for a moment, then bumped Bulk’s hoof with his own. The two then went to a bench, where the Trottingham stallion sat down, grabbed a barbell, and started pumping the weight as Bulk watched over him. “Who’s that?” Spike asked Rainbow Dash. “The one Bulk just hoof-bumped.” Rainbow Dash shrugged. “I think he’s Steel Mill, or something. He’s the one spotting Bulk for this event. “Hmm,” Spike murmured, scratching his chin. “Can we trust him? Trottingham hasn’t exactly been fond of us during these games.” Rainbow Dash whipped around at Spike. “Dude, have some faith. Just because they don’t like us doesn’t mean they’ll let Bulk get hurt.” “Alright,” Spike said as he raised his hands defensively. “I just wanted to be safe.” “Spike, it doesn’t do us any good to suspect others,” She said. “Especially if you want to bridge the gaps. Besides, I’ve never met another pony who hates Bulk.” Fluttershy nodded. “Someponies don’t like me or Rainbow Dash, but I don’t think anypony can bring themselves to hate Bulk.” “Why’s that?” Asked Spike. “Probably the same reason a lot of ponies are fond of Pinkie,” Applejack said. “Bulk makes ponies smile.” “Most ponies,” grumbled Rainbow Dash beneath her breath. “He makes most ponies smile. His kind of ‘humor’ wears me down really fast.” Bulk watched over the stallion pumping his weight. A referee kept count of the reps. Spike watched this activity unfold across six other pairs with the rehearsed coordination of a primed clock, ticking with each rep. It was beautiful, orderly. The order beneath every action was mesmerizing. After fifty or so reps, the Trottingham stallion’s face looked more blue than natural, even with his already blue fur. Bulk helped him finish the final rep and place the barbell back into its resting place. The stallion sat there a moment, panting and heaving. Then, he rolled out of his chair and swapped places with Bulk. Three other ponies had given up too, well before the minute was called. When the minute ended, they all swapped places. A single referee called the start time and the new weightlifters started once again. The crowd watched with relative silence, only an occasional clap or cheer breaking through the watchers’ silence. Bulk lifted the weight over his chest faster than everyone else, and showed no signs of stopping. The outcome of this match seemed fairly obvious. Spike’s head felt much clearer now, less hindered by the slight nausea and fatigue that plagued him a little while ago. In fact, he felt perfect. Filled with a second burst of energy, he cupped his mouth and exclaimed, “You can do it, Bulk!” A few ponies glanced at him, but otherwise they kept their concentration squarely on the action. Thirty seconds had passed, when it happened. Almost nopony saw it at first, until someone noticed strange activity at the Baltimare tent. The archer Dark Spectre swayed on her hooves. All at once, she barfed, and collapsed. Then, her teammates fell as well. Before anyone could make sense of it, ponies under the Manehatten’s tent threw up, and fell onto their sides writhing. Then, the weightlifters. Two weightlifters fell unconscious, and dropped their dumbbells. Their spotters struggled to catch the weights before they collapsed. As the referees gawked at the sudden onset of this strange illnesses, that’s when it happened in front of everypony. The clock order and structure of the contest collapsed under its own weight. The Trottingham stallion spotter fainted, sliding on top of the suspended weight. Startled, Bulk lost his grip. His barbell fell onto his stomach. He screamed, as his ribcage cracked. He started gasping for breath. The referees stopped everything and pulled the weight off of Bulk. Several ponies with stretchers rushed onto the field, carrying off the injured. The crowd was in an uproar, horrified as limp, immobile athletes were carted off. The Ponyville athletes rushed onto the field to Bulk’s stretcher, except Spike who stood there, numbness coursing through his body. The last Spike saw of Bulk Biceps, before he was carried off, were the crimson flecks pooling up and staining his white fur.