Fear Within

by VirtualCipher


Chapter 45 - Forgotten Fears

Barren, desolate and empty.

This world is a dark wasteland, devoid of any life, unable to support growth as dust and dirt filled the land, contaminating nature, essence and creation. A desert of gloom with dusky clouds swirled and fused, barricading any light from passing, refusing to show a single fracture of the sky. Everything is just grey, drab and lifeless, nothing like Canterlot or Ponyville, not even the Badlands could rival the state of this colourless land of emptiness. Even though the air felt dead, the wind would whisper softly and despite the vacant location, something stuck out like a monument, but it failed to deliver any attention, honour or respect.

In the middle of nowhere lied a tombstone and this decaying, lonely land appeared to be a grave for a poor, unfortunate soul. Streaming with cracks, breaking and eroding with stains of dirt scattered all over it, the tombstone was a disgrace to look at it, it was almost sad to even look at. It was a mystery knowing how long this marker was left standing in the emptiness, it could have been days, weeks, months or even years since someone visited it. Although the gravestone appeared in bad shape, the words engraved on its stone could easily be deciphered. The epitaph read:

'Here lies Spike.'
'Gone and forgotten.'

Faintly, the sound of stirring and swishing could be heard and it sounded like it was coming from underneath the surface. When the sound died down for a few seconds, an armoured claw erupted from the grave, digits tightening while grasping the bitter air, reaching for freedom. Not long after, another claw burst free from the dirt, both hands now clenching the surface. Just in front of the poorly, defaced tombstone, the knife-like fingers stabbed into the dirt. Steady and stable, the claws pushed down on to the ground and the mask of The Hunter emerged from the crypt.

Pulling himself free from the dirt and filth that was the ground, The Hunter finally clawed his way out from his own grave. Struggling groans and growls of annoyance escaped his breath, the spikes around his mask rattling in indignation, shaking off the dirt that latched onto them. With his arms released and half of his body liberated, his head twisted from left to right, surveying the uninhabited area. Quickly, he lifted the rest of his body out, his legs kicking while his clawed feet scratched away the earth along with his tail, battling the soil and rising upwards, clawing his way to the surface.

Finally, he broke free from his degrading tomb of dirt.

After dragging himself out of the ground, liberated, The Hunter picked himself up, walking a few steps from his grave, struggling with every step until weakness overtook him. As if his own legs failed him, he collapsed onto his hands and knees, grasping the unjagged, crummy earth that ran beneath him. Slowly, the masked darkling recovered his breath and looked upwards, fighting his exhaustion as he slowly investigated his surroundings. Thoughts rushed into his head, questions he wished he knew the answers to.

"What is this?" He asked himself with a grunt, studying the area he was in.

Rising back on his feet, lifting himself from the wasteland's miserable canvas, The Hunter nonchalantly looked around. This was all new to The Hunter. This wasn't the Badlands, he knew that. This place looked grim, empty with no soul inbound. Failing to recall what happened or how he ended up here, The Hunter killed off his questions. Despite only being here for a few seconds, the darkling knew that he had to leave.

But before leaving, he slowly turned around and took notice of the lonely, damaged tombstone. Behind the mask, his eyes absorbed the epitaph in horror, taking in the insulting words that were carved into the stone. The words gone and forgotten hovered around his fragile mind as he read it. Enraged, but more curious to know what was happening, his eyes studied it, it only sickened him. It delivered disgrace to his name. To who he once was. A mere servant. An object. A forgotten fragment.

"No, this-" He stammered. "This isn't real. Just what sick joke is this?!"

Just by further examining the miserable, degrading stone that carved disgust into his name, animosity fueling him, hate burning inside his heart as he tightened his claws into fists. The Hunter's spikes rattled as he relieved a growled, shaking in annoyance. The words 'gone' and 'forgotten' buzzed around his brain, hitting him with outrage. No matter how hard he tried to please and serve his friends, The Hunter kept being reminded about how he felt so downgraded, nothing more than just a pet, a slave.

Slowly, the digits of The Hunter's left foot punctured into the dirt. Sustaining his balance, he raised his right foot and gently pressed it against the deteriorating tombstone. The knife-like digits tapped and scraped the gravestone. For a moment, he felt hesitant about his next move. Was this tombstone the only thing that carried his name? Was this the only thing that remembered his name? Despite these thoughts, he knew he could change this, he knew he could make himself remembered.

"This is not my tomb!" He declared. "I am not dead! No one's forgetting me, not this time!"

With full force, The Hunter pressed his foot down against the lonely tombstone, crushing it with a single stomp. Breaking the silence in this deserted land, the tombstone had been reduced to rubble due to a single stamp. As the darkling slowly looked down before him, he took one step back and studied the small puddle of stones scattered around his feet. The only object in this cold, empty world had been destroyed by The Hunter's anger. His epitaph cluttered and erased.

As he observed the destroyed tombstone, now reduced to rubble and tattered stone, he thought obliterating his insulting grave would bring him a slither of composure, but it didn't. Insulted, demonized and betrayed, The Hunter kept his head lowered, his eyes glued to the ground, staring at the cluttered pieces of what was once his gravestone.

"They'll pay for what they did to me," The Hunter sighed. "I'll make sure they're the ones forgotten in the dirt!" He cursed.

"And what happens after that?"

In the middle of nowhere, the darkling heard the gentle, soft voice question him and immediately whirled himself around. His instincts told him to put his guard up but hearing the familiar voice eased him.

Upon turning around, The Hunter stared right at Starlight who looked emotionless, her eyes doleful. She wasn't alone either. By her side, she had been accompanied by friends from the past, friends The Hunter had not seen in quite some time.

Among the unicorn, standing tall was the fearless Dragon Lord, Princess Ember and the kind-hearted king of the reformed changelings, Thorax. They all conveyed the same emotion as Starlight, dreary and lifeless, almost as if they were depressed, looking hurt. They simply stood still like statues, it didn't even look as if they were breathing.

Taken aback by this sudden visit, muddled and perplexed, The Hunter just stared at his three friends, not burning with hate. Although, he felt alleviated by their presence.

Dropping his shoulders, failing to locate any words, he paused himself before he could even stammer. "Starlight... All of you, what are you-"

Not giving him a chance to finish, it was Ember's turn to speak, carrying the same hurt tone as Starlight, "Who's next after Twilight and her friends are destroyed?" She asked, no longer carrying her valiant and proud voice. "Will it be us?"

Frightened by Ember's assumptions, The Hunter winced in disbelief and uttered, "What- No, I-"

Again, they gave him no chance to speak as it was Thorax's turn, his voice just as cold and deadpan as the rest, "We're sorry we didn't find you. We would have done better if we knew you were suffering. You were there for me when I needed you back at the Crystal Empire, I'm sorry I couldn't return the favour... I understand if I'm next once Twilight is eradicated."

"No!" The Hunter yelled, feeling wave after wave of sorrow and guilt was over him. "I'm not a monster, I- I could never hurt any of you."

"But you will once you deal with Twilight," Starlight told. "The Spike we knew is long-forgotten."

Much to The Hunter's dismay, he watched as all three of his friends began to crumble from his sight. Piece by piece, they began to wither, fading into dust and breaking away, scattering into the wind of the empty land. Starlight, Ember and Thorax showed no concern to their demise, they kept their dull and soulless look.

Disturbed, anguished and shocked, he reached out to his decaying friends, his claws reaching nothing as he watched them disappear before him.

"Wait, please!" The Hunter pleaded, failing to reach them.

"Don't- go..."

Scared, his claws trembling, he looked down to the ground, seeing nothing but dirt and dust scattered along the wasteland. Slouched and beginning to shake, slowly dropping his claws to his sides, he mumbled.

"No..."

Again, he was alone... Or so he thought.

Staring at what was once his friends, now gone, The Hunter was a mess of emotions, he didn't know how to feel. But this was nothing new, even before he put on the mask, The Hunter always felt lost. Trying to grip what they had said to him and what had just happened, his mind kept on reeling. He was losing himself.

Before another thought could latch onto him, a quiet, detached voice spoke to him.

"There is no need for grieving, Hunter. If it makes you feel better, they forgot you, just like the rest." The familiar, cold, reticent voice crept.

Slowly lifting his head up, hearing his voice burnt The Hunter's senses. This moment of sorrow quickly transformed into vexation. Bit by bit, he finally looked behind him, turning himself around to see the slender, disfigured alchemist, standing tall and clasping his grey, emaciated hands together.

"But I..." Fright continued. "I never forget. I remember how broken and scared you were when I found you. I remember how I fixed you, how I mended your shattered mind and forged you a new face. All I had to do was show you the truth. Your fears revealed the truth."

"My friends..." The Hunter growled, raising his arm and pointing to the alchemist. "What did you do to them?!"

A grin slithered through his stitched mouth, his eyes emitting a cold glare, "You said it yourself: Friends are nothing but deplorable hallucinations that toy with your emotions," Fright brought up. "If you truly want to succeed in purging the Princess of Friendship from this world, you must be ready to do what's necessary."

"Are you ready to do what's necessary?" He asked, arching a brow.

"As if I need reminding," The Hunter countered. "Now bring them back!" He ordered.

His order only brought a frown to the alchemist, but quickly, he relieved a small, quiet laugh, devoid of any joy, just insolent, "From the moment you put on that mask, you claim to be fearless, but even now, fear takes hold of your breath."

Finally, Fright broke from his position and slowly walked towards The Hunter, his feet failing to make any noise as he stepped against dust and dirt filled wasteland.

Like a curious shark, he began to circle around the confused darkling, "I know this because I know you. I know you better than anyone." He grinned. "I know that behind that mask is someone damaged, in desperate need to repair himself and the only way he can liberate all that pain is if he sees the one responsible for his agony suffer... Just like he did."

"Shattered, you were ashamed of the dragon you once were," Fright continued. "A mere servant, blinded by lies, neglected and betrayed by his own friends. A target for humiliation and torment. You were nothing but an object to them."

Tightening his fists, The Hunter snarled, "Do not analyse me, Fright!"

"I am not analysing," The fearmonger responded with a smirk. "I am exploring, your fears. You tell yourself you have nothing to fear because of Twilight and her friends, but I know better. I know there's a lot more The Hunter fears. That is the wonders of terror. They shift and change while some refuse to depart."

Swallowing back his hate, the masked dragon muttered, "I have nothing to fear!"

Ignoring his statement, Fright continued, "Betrayed and abandoned by those you considered a family, cast out and replaced, you were forgotten, left to rot in the dark. They disgraced your name, your life and now, you wear a mask, a mask I gifted you along with a new identity. An identity to be remembered."

Finally, the hooded creep stopped his lingering and settled just in front of The Hunter, "But you can't deny it, Hunter." His stitches jailed over a small smirk. "You don't just wear that mask to become something new, something better. No, you wear it to abandon your previous identity, to bury that forgetful face from existence, hiding away the shame and fear. Or perhaps... You cower behind it, terrified that Twilight won't recognise you." He provoked, his smirk still intact.

It had been there for a while now. The anger boiling in his blood, burning his heart like a furnace. He bared his teeth behind the mask and surprisingly, kept his temper on a leash. The Hunter could have stopped his blabbering with a single act, but now, he found himself hesitating to even move.

"What will shatter first I wonder," Fright pondered. "Her mentality or that mask."

"The first thing that will shatter will be you if you keep talking!" The Hunter barked.

"There will be more talking, after all, we've only scraped the surface of your fears. We must descend deeper if we truly want to know if you're willing to do what's necessary," Fright smiled, admiring the syringe around his wrist.

Surprisingly quick, the hooded illusionist threw his arm towards The Hunter's neck, his syringe ready to pierce his throat.

However, it appeared Fright's quickness was no match against the masked monster. Swiftly, he countered against the alchemist, his claw gripping his wrist and steadily holding it in place, pulling it away from his neck, but refusing to let it return to the fearmonger.

With widened eyes, Fright appeared shocked, darting to his wrist and back to The Hunter's vacant eyes. Alarmed, he pulled away from his gaze, wincing as the smirk hidden behind his stitches faded into a look of regret.

"I am," The Hunter answered, the spikes that surrounded his mask rattled. "But if you truly want to know, let me show you."

Motioning his other arm upwards, The Hunter launched a fist into Fright's face, punching him.

There wasn't enough time for the alchemist to react and upon contact, he froze. Not a single groan escaped his mouth, he simply stood still as The Hunter let go of his wrist and drew back from a step. A single punch must have shattered him... and it did.

After a few seconds, cracks began to run across the deranged scientist's face, body and limbs. One by one, his sickening, poorly repaired face, his slender arms and legs along with his scrawny body withered, collapsing into tiny pieces like glass. He broke, fractured and shattered, scattering along the terrain as each piece screamed and chimed.

For a moment, mystified, The Hunter watched as Fright reduced to nothing, staring at the cluttered and rotten pieces of the former alchemist, destroyed much like his own tombstone. The perplexity quickly faded from him, showing no guilt for his action.

"I know what I have to do."

Letting his anger fade, calming himself, The Hunter let his guard down when he noticed the world around him burst into nothingness. Piece by piece, the dreary light in the forsaken land sunk into darkness as if the world was being deactivated by a switch.

Alert, he prepared himself as the darkness enthralled him and everything else, obliterating the miserable, lifeless land from existence!

Buried in a blanket of duskiness, shivering as he grew cold, the darkling's senses abandoned him. Was he awake? Everything around him felt bitter, slipping deeper and deeper into the depths of unconsciousness, ignorant to the unknown world around him. The dark didn't act as a protector for The Hunter, it held him, captured him.

All of this felt like he had been consumed in a sea of blindness, anchored down in the depths of unconsciousness. He felt weak in the head, cold and heavy. Even when he tried to speak, he heard nothing, not even his own heartbeat. Was he dead? As many thoughts bombarded his brain, they came to a sudden stop when a voice emerged from the darkness that crowded The Hunter's mind and body.

"Wake up, Spike."

It took a moment for him to react to the voice, but even then, he felt motionless.

"Wake up." The voice called out again, but this time with a stern tone.

In a sudden jolt, Spike's eyes opened forcefully, gasping and sharply drawing his breath as he bounced upwards. His sight along with the rest of his senses had returned to him. As if he almost drowned, Spike tried to recover his breathing, steadying himself a little as he surveyed the area around him.

Finding himself sat on an uncomfortable, tattered, wooden chair, Spike, in an uncontrolled state, scared and confused, looked around the new location he had been dropped in. Again, darkness surrounded him, but a very dim light hung over his head, bathing the dragon in misery. Paranoid, as he observed the familiar looking room, the shrouded lab that belonged to the deranged alchemist, he took in the memories of when he was broken, hurt. Forged into something else.

Aghast, he looked down at his claws. Purple and small, he curled and flexed his digits, feeling his face as his breathing steadied. Spike... He wasn't wearing a mask, he wasn't the horrifying hunter. He had returned to his normal looking self. Small, feeble and light compared to the monster he once was.

"I'm... I'm me again," Spike observed his claws and the rest of his body in disbelief, proceeding to fidget with his tail. "I'm back to normal."

"Normal is such a poor word for you." The familiar, cold, reticent voice crept to his side.

Trembling, the frightful young dragon pushed his head upwards, gazing at the dark, distorted alchemist who returned a glare of his own. Although his eyes were empty of any emotion and colour, Spike could feel his pupils staring right into his own.

"In the end, no one is really normal." He continued, lifeless and dull. "We are all mad, deranged and insane. Sometimes, all it takes is for someone to bring it out in us."

Spike wiped his eyes and regained his proper sight, clearing away the blur that contaminated his vision as he exclaimed, "Fright... But you-!" He began to stammer in confusion, "You deteriorated! How did you get here?!" He questioned, sitting upwards from his slouched position, almost looking as if he wanted to run.

Quickly, in a disturbing and frantic manner, Fright bolted towards the confused dragon, gripping both arms rests of the withering, wooden chair, his grey, sickly, slender fingers digging into them. Stubbornly, his eyes refused to depart from Spike's position, he continued to gaze at him, staring into his soul with his spiritless, uninhabited eyes.

Scared, returning back to who he once was also restored how easily frightened he felt. As the ghoulish alchemist leaned closer to Spike, he failed to retreat, feeling the back of the chair blocking him. Although discomfort ran through him, he kept his gaze connected with Fright's own, however, cowering a little.

Finally, a smirk managed to thrive through Fright's mask of a face as he relieved a small, sadistic laugh from his lifeless breath, "It's not "how did I get here?" you should be asking. The question is "am I here?"

Lightheaded and sick to the core of his stomach, growing weak with each second, Spike's eyes widened in horror as Fright retreated into darkness, fading from his sight and returning the dragon his space. Erratically, he twisted his head left to right, clutching his chest and doing everything in his power to keep calm, to fight off the anxiety that crawled all over him.

"Is the world around you truly your reality? Or is this just your agitated mind screaming for help?" He waved his hand to the darkness that surrounded them both.

"What's happening? Where- Where are we?!" Spike questioned, although his demands came across as frightened and desperate, his voice shaking.

From the shadows and behind Spike, Fright lunged towards him, his skeletal hands and scrawny fingers digging into the back of the chair, gazing deep into the dragon's disturbed, traumatised soul.

"You don't recognise it?" Fright asked, arching a brow and then shaking his head ever so slightly. "This is your home. Your real home. This is where you were reborn. This is where you were freed from it all. The neglect, the torment, the humiliation. But you couldn't have freed yourself, no. I released you from your agony. After all, you were born a servant, a slave to take orders. Equestria knows Spike can never be independent, let alone take control of his own life."

The more he talked, the more sadness flowed through Spike's veins. Infected with melancholy, the young dragon remained seated and lowered his head, refusing to acknowledge Fright's presence or anything else around him.

"We spent months here, you and me. You were blind, but I made you see." His voice echoed and crept in the dark. "This is where you were liberated from your miserable former life, but you didn't escape the fears that still haunt you."

"Those nights were horrific for you, weren't they?" He carelessly brought up. "When reality set in, the truth crashing down on you, you realised just how meaningless your role was. An assistant, a slave, a pet that belonged to a prominent princess only to be used, broken, replaced and forgotten... Just like an object."

Finally forcing himself to look up at him, Spike narrowed his eyes and clenched his teeth, "I don't need this! Not again!"

With another small, but taunting laugh, Fright looked down upon the dragon, seeing the irritation in his eyes, "You have every right to hold resentment against me for my... Harsh methods. But we can't forget who the real enemy is."

Again, just by thinking of her, Spike found himself lowering his head down again, shaking as his heart ached. The young dragon found himself sinking in an ocean of depression, anchored into an abyss of grief and drowning in his fears.

"The one who left you to rot... To suffer..."

Thoughts of Twilight Sparkle, the Princess of Friendship travelled through his disarrayed mind, feeling a mix of hatred and sorrow bombard his emotions. Spike could feel himself slumping, but impossible to fall deeper into this state of misery.

Whispers from the darkness began to crawl around the depressed dragon.

"A victim of false hope."

"A target for humiliation and torment."

"A forgotten fragment."

"The world knows you belong to Twilight." The deranged alchemist continued. "And you can't escape that. Even when you're replaced and forgotten, her possession over you stains your mind and body. No matter what, you'll always be her servant unless you prove Equestria wrong," Fright uttered, lifting a grin as his dispassionate, cold, grey eyes kept a grip on the dragon. "Show the world that you don't need her to dictate your life. Show her friends that you're more than just her servant. Show the Princess of Friendship that she should never have forgotten you."

Absolutely still, Spike's own silence began to scare him. He didn't blink, his eyes were wide and drowning in restlessness. His mind absorbed every word Fright uttered and every painful memory he remembered flooded his brain.

Hurt and afraid, he remained seated in the old, battered chair, slumped over and staring at the colourless, stone ground. He paid no attention to Fright creeping and lurking around in the darkness, but his voice pierces his hearing. His emotions were mixed, he was a puzzle between feeling hate and sadness, but for now, he looked absent.

Finally, Fright leaned closer towards the dull-looking Spike and breathed through rotten stitches, "Are you ready to do what's necessary?" His vile voice wrapped around the despondent dragon.

With a shaken sigh, breaking down into misery and confusion, Spike's clenched both sides of his head, bringing his knees upwards and curling himself up into the deepest part of the decaying chair, hiding away from Fright, from the whispers and the darkness.

"I don't know! I don't know anymore!" His voice crumbled into uncertainty and panic, his pupils trembling and then gripping his eyelids shut. "I don't know what to do!"

He knew the fearmonger was still in front of him, but he refused to open his eyes and look up. Shaking, Spike kept his face concealed and everything around him grew quiet. Fright's voice wasn't heard and the whispers died down, but the sound of cracking could be heard.

Slowly opening his eyes and releasing his claws from his head, Spike's breathing steadied as he looked up to see he was alone. Fright was gone. Although the darkness still surrounded him, he had thought the alarming sound of cracks and crumbles was coming from the around him...

Until he looked down.

There was nothing pleasant about the crackling sound. It put Spike into a state of paranoia. Stressed, afraid and confused, the young dragon motioned his head down at a slow pace and quickly became captivated as well as horrified. If there was any soul around him, they would see the fear linger in his disturbed, wide eyes. Much to his shock and displeasure, Spike noticed the ground beneath him had changed.

No longer stone, the floor beneath him had turned to a sheet of ice, barely floating above freezing water that surrounded him along with the darkness. Feeling the hands of dismay grip his throat, he watched as the ice floe became consumed with cracks, running their course and spreading like wildfire.

Fear had paralysed him. He wanted to hop off his chair and run, but where could he race too? Faster and faster, his heart pumped up with panic and hysteria, all while he failed to move a single muscle in his body. With his breath shaking, he watched the cracks develop and before he knew it, the whole ice floe burst into pieces. In a mere second, Spike along with the chair dropped into the bitter, cold water.

Breaking away from the chair, swirling out of control, Spike was being pulled under the endless, frigid water. Desperately trying to swim back up to what remained of the surface, but the cold quickly weakened him. He began to wave his arms and legs as fast as he could, hoping to reach the air, but as the cold consumed him, his mobility began to wither.

Pounding, his mind screamed for oxygen and the struggling dragon continued to fight the ocean that suffocated him. Enveloped in darkness, holding his breath was futile. Spike gripped his eyes shut and clenched his teeth, being pulled, pushed and dragged, sinking deeper with every second.

In anguish, drifting and drifting, Spike's head grew fuzzy and his thoughts on reaching safety began to fade. Hopeless and tired, his kicking and struggling dwindled.

All thoughts of survival, determination and vengeance trailed into nothing. His body gave up and his sight blurred, the cold claimed the young, helpless dragon.


Without warning, Spike's eyes flung open as wide as possible, the look of fear still present on his face. Jolting himself upwards from the thick, glacial snow he somehow managed to rest against, he set free a gasp and began to cough, trying to catch his breath while he brought a claw up and clutched his chest in pain.

His head, hands, knees and tail, everything just felt so cold to the point where he could barely move a single muscle. Stressed and frightened, Spike continued to forcefully push his breathing, catching the air he desired. Shaking violently, jittering and quaking in the snow that took him by surprise, he held himself together as if he was breaking or falling apart. With his sight restored, he frantically glanced the world around him and noticed he had washed up just beside a wintry lake. Soon, his frantic gandering transformed into cautious stares as he studied his surroundings.

Around him, snow danced in the night, descending harshly. The blizzard raged on, a screaming storm of frost that consumed everything in its path. It was growing thick, trees were engulfed in it as was the ground.

"So... c-cold..." Spike quivered in pain, gripping his arms.

As the storm grew cruel and sadistic, he finally rose onto his feet and stumbled a little with each step. It hurt to move for the young dragon.

Upon progressing through the thick snow for a few minutes, his feet aching, Spike noticed a crowd of houses not far from him. Curiously, but mostly relieved, he tightened his eyes and took in the small village.

It was Ponyville.

"Ponyville..." A smile broke through. "Home..."

Slowly, Spike's steps sunk into the snow as he continued to fight weakly against the blizzard.

When entering Ponyville, engulfed in a screaming storm of snow, the small dragon took notice of all the houses that looked cosy. How he cherished the thoughts of warmth. As he travelled through the quiet town, passing by the many familiar houses, walking through the town square, he hurried through the blizzard, his feet sinking deeper and deeper into the blanket of snow.

"I can't be out here... I need to get to someplace warm..." Spike breathed. "Someplace safe."

Walking through the blizzard, the path he left behind quickly buried. Much to his annoyance, the pellets of snow spat and latched against him as he gritted his teeth.

It was left unknown how long he had been walking, but much to his surprise, he had reached his destination sooner than expected. If his eyelids weren't frozen, he would have widened them upon gazing at the glistening, monumental tree formed from crystals.

The Castle of Friendship. Home to the Princess of Friendship. His home.

Quickly, Spike rushed to the castle's snow-covered steps and hopped up each level, fighting against the cold as relief warmed his heart to see he had found sanctuary. His expression said it all, he looked pleased, but also anxious.

Despite his conflicted emotions, the nearly frozen dragon found himself before the golden double doors of Twilight's castle. Not a spec of hesitation flowed through him, he promptly pushed his arms out and clapped both his claws against the doors, pressing them open.

As soon as the doors unlocked, Spike slipped through the gap and entered the castle. Quickly, but weakly closing the doors behind him with whatever strength he had left. Hearing a thud that confirmed the entrance to the castle closed.

It felt like an eternity since he had felt the warmth soothe his scales. It was pleasant, but the cold persisted on staying with him despite the castle's satisfying conditions.

Slowly, Spike unlocked a sigh, still feeling his teeth chattering together, although, the constant shivering was beginning to fade. Gazing around the main hall of the castle, he took in how spacious it all was. He remembered how every tone of purple had been used to colour the walls, floor and ceiling.

This feeling of remembrance filled the young dragon with happiness he hadn't felt in quite some time, to be back home.

Shaking off the cold and the pellets of snow that coated his scales, Spike began to wander through the lustrous and homely halls with wide eyes, absorbing the elegance with his mouth slightly agape, his breathing steady. Each step, he gently pressed his feet against the comfy carpet that cleansed away the frost.

He took in the rest of the castle's interior, his mind swimming in memories. Spike directed himself through the halls, his mind switching on and off, lost in a forest of his own thoughts. Everything was quiet, not a single soul could be heard, only his own breathing. This led him to question if anyone else was actually here.

After a few minutes of walking, the nervous looking dragon began to fiddle around with his claws as his eyes darted from left to right, looking cautious and scared, passing by numerous doors of the hall he passed. Filled with worriment, Spike knew he was getting closer to his destination. He wasn't looking for a room specifically, he was looking for someone.

Anxiety wiped away any form of happiness Spike could muster when he noticed one of the many golden doors wide open, light shining through like a beacon calling to him. Bit by bit, he worked up the courage to peer through the open doors, light on his feet as he cowered with each step.

Doing everything in his power to not make a sound, Spike leaned into the room carefully, studying the section of the castle and taking in the thousands of books placed neatly on shelves all around the bright room. His eyes inspected five round, wooden tables, all clean and empty except for one... One that occupied many books stacked and arranged neatly on top of one another.

However, the stack of books wasn't the main thing he noticed. With her back facing towards him, he took in the lavender alicorn sitting at the table, reading. Twilight Sparkle, although he couldn't see her face, he could tell how careless she looked when reading, captivated in whatever story or information she had been consumed in.

Just by seeing her, already, Spike's emotions were battling each other. He couldn't feel hatred, but he could feel happy either. He simply felt depressed just by looking at her. Reading like always, it was as if nothing changed.

Still quiet, his feet failing to make a sound, he walked into the room, gripping his claws and clasping them together, failing to rid his angst. Overworking itself, his heart began to beat louder and louder. Spike dared not to breathe, not wanting himself to be noticed until he said something. Much like his heart, his mind began to overwork itself as well, pumping up thoughts that worried and sickened him.

Just when he was in reach of the princess, he stopped himself.

"Tw... Twilight," Spike gently breathed.

All the reasons not to do this came crashing down on him like a comet. Panic began to spread and tangle his thoughts when he noticed Twilight's ears perk upwards, pulling back her book and gently placing it down onto the table.

With each agonising second, he watched as the alicorn turned around from her book until she looked right at him.

Twilight, for a moment, stared in disbelief but offered a warm smile towards the aching dragon.

Spike stared back, helplessly smiling. He could feel his stress, doubts and fears lower just by looking at her smile. That was until the alicorn tilted her head and arched a brow, looking right through him.

"Sorry, do I know you?"

Immediately, Spike's face dropped. His smile withered as his mouth broke open a little in disbelief while his eyes widened with fear washing over each pupil. Promptly, his breathing almost died while his heart continued to hammer against his chest.

The room around them froze, nothing around Spike mattered to him as he focused all of his attention on the alicorn. As fear began to swell and grow, he looked at her in the eyes, heartbroken and almost destroyed.

"No... No!" He yelled, annoyed and scared. "You are not doing this to me! Not again!"

In response, Twilight drew back her gaze with a confused look, "Doing what again? We've never met." She bluntly confessed, then raising her eyes up. "Does anypony know who this dragon is?"

Scared, Spike whirled around and gazed at Pinkie Pie, Applejack, Rainbow Dash, Rarity and Fluttershy all glaring at him as if he was an intruder. Their eyes held such hatred towards him, snarling at him, despising him.

"Darling, you can't be serious," Rarity asked in a tone of disbelief. "How could you think that any of us would ever associate with this feral creature?" She shot another scowl towards the frightened dragon.

"Feral would be a compliment, Rarity. I thought dragons were meant to be tough, not like this pathetic little runt," Applejack chuckled.

"Maybe he's lost," Fluttershy added. "I'm sure somepony in Ponyville would love to have a pet dragon." The pegasus sneered.

"I'm not a pet!" Spike clamoured. "Why don't you remember me?!" He questioned, tears brimming in his eyes.

"Because we don't know you," Rainbow Dash stated with insolence, "and I don't think anypony would want to spend a second with someone as weak and useless such as yourself!"

"You're... You're lying!"

"Ha!" Pinkie Pie laughed. "Seriously, who'd want to be friends with you? Who'd want to even know you?"

Spike could feel himself being beaten over and over, dread tearing his head into pieces as he took in their insults. Despair began to seep out in his watery eyes, harmed by the horror as his fears replayed over and over, becoming nothing but a forgotten face.

Their insults were cruel and harsh, he almost felt crippled and paralyzed. As he tried to block out the girls heartless laughing, Spike haltingly twisted himself back to Twilight.

The Princess of Friendship stood tall, towering over the hurt and depressed dragon with a disapproving glare. Her eyes targeted his own, pinning him down as venom took hold of her words.

"Assistant, friend, family... It doesn't matter." She declared contemptuously. "You're nothing."

Heartbroken, Spike just stared at Twilight in a state of dismay, his fears playing on a constant loop. Unexpectedly, six inky, sooty arms with keen claws erupted from the floor below Spike, gripping and clawing at his legs and tail, slowly making their way up to his body, then arms and lastly, his face.

In a look of horror, he could feel himself sinking, being pulled into whatever dark abyss these abhorrent hands emerged from. Struggling, in a desperate attempt to free himself, he tried reaching for the alicorn.

"Y-You know me!" Spike stammered. "Assistant, you said it! You do know me!"

"No, I don't," Twilight scowled. "Not anymore."

The more and more the alicorn talked, the more Spike could feel himself being pulled into the darkness below.

"I don't know why you even bothered to come back. We made it obvious you didn't belong here, with us!" She rudely mocked, her eyes narrowing in disgust towards the sinking dragon. "You're nothing but a nuisance who makes constant mistakes, ruins lives and annoys everyone on a daily basis, and now just because you wear a mask, you claim to be 'repaired' and 'renewed', that you've changed into something better, but you haven't."

"Behind that mask, you're still the same worthless, deluded servant everyone forgets." The alicorn scolded. "I never wanted you, as an assistant, friend or family. No one wanted you and no one ever will."

While his eyes glimmered, tears flowing down his face, Spike could feel himself drowning in the darkness that strangled him, the creepy claws relentlessly continuing to drag him deeper into the unknown. Struggling, he darted his frightened gaze to Twilight, who kept her same careless glare, doing nothing to help him.

"You're pathetic!" Applejack shouted.

"A disgrace!" Fluttershy shamed.

"A freak!" Rainbow Dash insulted.

"No one wants you!" Pinkie Pie yelled.

"Everyone despises you!" Rarity seethed.

With his sight fading, everything grew dark, blurry and fuzzy for Spike. The last thing he saw was Twilight's look of hate and the last thing he heard was the harsh, uncaring laughs of her friends. Finally, he completely sank into the inky pond, vanishing from the princess and her friends' sight, taken by the vicious, skeletal hands that claimed him.

Gone, Spike had been removed from the Princess' sight.

The moments he had disappeared, taken by the mysterious arms of doubt and fear, the eerie whispers, the heartless laughing and the manic shouting came to a sudden stop. Now, silence took hold of the alicorn and her friends. The world around them grew still like time had broke, freezing the world in place until the Princess of Friendship finally made a move.

Calm, serenity filling her hooves, Twilight took a few steps up to the cloudy pond that consumed the forgotten dragon, looking deeply into it. Gently, she lowered her head and smirked.

"You were never ready to do what was necessar- ack!"

Abruptly, two armoured claws shot up from the lightless puddle faster than the alicorn could blink. Sharp, hook-like fingers wrapped around her neck tightly.

Failing to draw back in time, feeling her breath battling for air, suffocating and desperately trying to break free from her attacker's grasp, she watched as a daunting, pale-white mask emerged from the ground, failing to unlock a scream or even a groan.

Reclaiming his mask, his identity, The Hunter, no longer feeling sorrow and irked to his core, rose from the ground, his clawed-feet digging into the floor as he held Twilight into the air, still gripping her throat and forcing her to stare into his deadpan, barren, black eyes. Scared, she tried to break free from his grasp, coughing and flailing her hooves and wings around.

Twilight's friends watched as the enraged darkling leapt from the ground. They were ready to leap, tackle and mindlessly throw themselves against The Hunter, doing whatever they could to interfere with his assault.

However, before they could even make a step, he heaved his tail across all of them, striking them with a single hit. Unexpectedly, they shattered like glass, exploding and scattering into dust, hovering around shortly like embers, but The Hunter was too absorbed in watching the princess struggle, still keeping a tight hold of her throat, refusing to release her from his grasp.

With her friends out of the picture, Twilight was left alone and powerless in the hands of The Hunter, hate running through him as she helplessly flailed her legs and wings in the air, unable to break free, her strength and energy fading by the second.

Careless to pay any attention to the world around him, the library began to distort, breaking away and revealing a rippled, empty world where everything was grey and dull much like the wasteland he started off in. Shifting, the bookshelves were carried by the wind as the whole room deconstructed piece by piece.

Now, the darkling stood tall on an island floating in a lifeless void, staring deep into Twilight's widened, frightened eyes as the rest of the castle dismantled and dispersed.

"Over and over," The Hunter began. "You always kept trying to tell me I meant something, but I know now they were just lies. A distortion to prove just how weak and blinded I really was, to keep living in anxiety's hand."

"Assistant, friend, family..." He brought up, the spikes around his mask rattling in irritation. "I don't need you to define who I am... I don't need Fright to define who I am..."

Upon bringing up the fearmonger's name, Twilight's appearance began to alter and shift into the alchemist. Her horrified gaze turned into the colourless eyes of Fright, his disarrayed mask of a face now staring at the deadpan mask.

Coughing and gasping for air, clawing at The Hunter's hands and failing to break free, Fright's efforts were useless.

As he stared deeply into the emotionless eyes of the alchemist, the darkling let off a growl, "...and I certainly don't need the past to define who I am."

Once again, the appearance of The Hunter's victim began to change and break. Fright's badly-crafted face burnt away, his scrawny figure and slender arms fading in and out until the whole of him disappeared, transforming into someone else.

From behind the mask he wore, he watched as Fright began to disfigure and shift into something else. Unfazed and negligent, The Hunter remained apathetic to the fact he was now holding a small, purple dragon by the throat. It was him... It was the Spike he used to be... It was his old, forgotten identity.

Small and feeble, terrified and failing to tear himself free from The Hunter's claws, he watched as Spike gripped his traumatized eyes shut, clenching his teeth in anguish and losing his energy to move a single muscle. Smoothly, he loosened his armoured claws from the young dragon's throat, dropping him to the dust and dirt-filled ground.

After being carelessly dropped to the dirt, his back hitting the rough landscape, Spike raised himself upwards and rubbed his throat, frantically gasping and coughing, trying to recover and steady his own breathing. During this time of recovery proven short as the small dragon darted his panic-stricken eyes upwards to The Hunter's cold, skull-like mask staring down at him.

"I'm ready to do what's necessary." His voice roughened.

Paralyzed, weakened and scared, Spike failed to rise back on his feet, pushing his claws into the ground as he backed up from the masked darkling, trying to push himself away from his presence while keeping his own wide eyes glued on The Hunter's movement.

With a stomp in each step, he effortlessly pursued the small dragon, cowering and trembling before him.

"If I want to bring down Twilight, I need to let go of who I once was." The Hunter told himself, raising his clawed foot right above the small, quivering dragon. "I can't have fear stop me... and I won't let it."

Stunned by fear, unable to move, Spike couldn't say a thing. Every word he thought of died on his tongue as anxiety held it. Helpless, he watched as the masked monster lift his foot over him.

"Because I have nothing to fear. Not anymore."

Without a single thought of hesitation, merciless... The Hunter slammed his foot down against the scared dragon and instantly, he shattered like glass, scattering into dust, withering away.

He had won. The Hunter had won.


When his eyes opened, it took a while for The Hunter to truly grip his reality. Everything was a blur and his vision slowly emerged from darkness lazing around in his sight. Aching a little, his head was spinning much to his discomfort, however, memories of his little journey through Fright's fear concoction rushed to his mind. As his sight built back up, seeing clearly, he released a groan and then began to breathe calmly. The darkling found himself slumped against a wall as he inspected his surroundings.

He remembered what had happened. Chrysalis' plans, talking to Starlight and being poisoned, he began to recollect his previous events. While The Hunter swiftly surveyed the dark and grim room, devoid of any colour and light, he finally took notice of Fright who was crouched by his side, staring at him with empty eyes.

"Welcome back to reality." The alchemist greeted.

Silent, The Hunter slowly rose onto his feet, gently pushing himself off the wall.

"For a moment, I thought you'd never wake up," Fright said. "Just when I presumed fear had finally consumed you, you deny oblivion and prove me wrong. It appears-"

Without warning, Fright's voice cut off when The Hunter shot a claw at a piece of the fearmonger's dreary cloak, clenching it tightly as he pulled the alchemist towards him, bringing him inches away from his mask.

Growling, the spikes around his mask clattering in anger, the darkling spoke, "Do that again and I'll bury that syringe in your throat!" His warning ended with giving the alchemist a simple shove, giving him back his space as he released him. "Now pick yourself up. We have work to do."

Once Fright had been released from The Hunter's grasp, his surprised look quickly transformed into a smirk, "What did you see, Hunter?" He asked in fascination, astonished by his reaction. "It must have been a terrifying show."

"It doesn't matter what I saw." He bluntly responded. "I'm ready to do what's necessary."

"And that is?" Fright questioned, curious.

"End tonight with a scream."