Edited by Cynewulf
THEN
[Five Months Ago]
A dense morning fog hung on the Everfree Forest, bathing all that could be seen amongst the tall trees in white and gray. Unnatural silence and stillness pervaded the area in the wake of the previous night's Harmony Storm. All that remained was a young dragon of colors violet and green, who rent both the silence and the stillness in careless fury.
"RAAAGH!"
With shouts, yells, and fearsome growls he punched at the side of a pine tree. Blow after blow shredded the bark, but the trunk beneath resisted every strike. The dragon's hands were not so lucky. Scales chipped, claws cracked, and eventually, seeping blood began to smear the timber. Even so, the dragon showed no signs of stopping his relentless assault until the pop of a dislocated bone sounded in the misty air.
Spike raised his bloodied fist yet again, mindless of how it shook. His face contorted in anger. His breath came out in ragged snarls, and his bared fangs shone with spittle. The rage had not left him, but his raised arm would no longer cooperate. Searing, debilitating pain lanced through every muscle as he tried to will one last punch out of the abused appendage. However, it was no use. Spike let the arm fall to his side and began to weep bitterly.
"For what reason do you punish yourself?" asked a strong feminine voice.
Spike whirled in the direction of the voice to find a unicorn mare towering over him. She stood nearly a foot taller than the young dragon, but her features were refined and delicate in the manner of a Canterlot noble. From her coat of phthalo blue and mane of light azure to the pure cyan of her inquisitive eyes, not a single detail of her appearance struck a note of familiarity. The brown traveler's cloak covering most of her body below the neck prevented Spike from seeing her Cutie Mark as well. Defenseless, exhausted, and quite embarrassed, he found himself wilting in the presence of this imposing stranger.
"W-who are you?" asked Spike.
The mare stared down at him with a stoic sort of curiosity. "I am Midnight."
"Oh, Midnight," Spike said casually. He'd expected the answer to bring to mind a resident of Ponyville, but his brain caught up with the oddity of the name a few seconds late. "Wait, Midnight what?"
Midnight raised an eyebrow. "The one name serves me well. I have no need of a second."
"I guess that makes sense," Spike replied. Caught in a personal moment, he could think of nothing else to do but play it off as an everyday conversation. His shaking arms and bloodied hands made that a tall order.
"I say again," declared Midnight. "Why do you attack a tree in the midst of these woods? Why inflict pain upon yourself to no avail?"
Spike looked away. "I don't see how it's any of your business."
"Is the reason a guarded secret then?"
That question made Spike feel more than a little foolish. "No, not really. Everypony in Ponyville knows about it by now." He sighed. "I . . . screwed up. A pony I care about got hurt last night."
Midnight tilted her head. "Will this pony live?"
"Yeah," Spike shot back quickly, surprised at the severity of the question. "The doctors say she'll be fine in a few days, but . . ." He clenched the one fist that he still could. "I was right there when that monster went after her and I couldn't do a thing. I promised to protect her a long time ago, but every time something happens I'm completely useless." A tear made its way past his defenses and down his cheek. "I'm the only fire-breathing dragon alive who can't even hurt a stupid tree."
Midnight nodded. "Then you are frustrated by your inadequacy. You desire power."
Spike chuckled darkly. "See it growing on a tree anywhere?"
"I know of no such plant," Midnight replied, "but I am one who can bestow what you seek." Her horn shone with a cobalt aura and opened the folds of her cloak. A sword in its scabbard floated from within, coming to rest in midair between the two of them.
Spike gazed at the emerald pommel stone and brass cross-hilt of the pristine short sword in open-mouthed awe. "Where did you get this? It almost looks like the one the knights carry, but . . ."
"It is an older blade," said Midnight. "The hilt lacks a mouthguard and the handle is rough on the jaw. Even so, I doubt such flaws would present a problem for a creature with hands." One corner of her mouth rose. "Provided said creature bothers to preserve his hands, that is."
Spike had never seen a weapon this close before. As far as he knew, only the royal knights carried swords of this caliber, and nopony in Ponyville even owned a bladed weapon of any kind at all. He reached out for the handle with his functioning hand.
"Be warned," cautioned Midnight, causing the young dragon to freeze in place. "Though the blade is itself an expression of power, whether to harm or to protect, this one is but a key to the power of which I speak. To take hold of this sword is to make a vow that one day, you shall use it to prove your worth. At that time, should I deem you deserving, you shall inherit another sword entirely—one that has no equal in this world."
Spike continued to stare at the weapon. "And if I fail?"
Midnight's expression remained stoic. "Then I shall claim your life, young dragon."
"My life?" Spike exclaimed. He took a step back, but did not lower his arm. "Why?"
"Because the world to which both this sword and its better belong makes no allowance for failure," answered Midnight. "Some would say you are wise to hesitate in the face of such a risk."
Spike's thoughts drifted to the shambling horror he'd encountered in the midst of the Harmony Storm. "What would you say?"
Midnight looked him directly in the eye. "That it is impossible to protect the life of another without risking your own."
A fleeting image of Rarity, bruised and bleeding, raced through Spike's mind. He drew in a deep breath, reached out, and pulled the sword from its scabbard. The gleaming white metal of the blade sung as it was drawn in a low and solemn tone. The sound brought only one word to Spike's mind as he held the weapon before him. Death.
Midnight allowed the scabbard to float to the ground and bowed her head in respect. "Very well, young one. Carry it with you always. Train yourself in its use, and one day I shall return to test you. That day may be a year from now—it might be tomorrow. Never allow yourself to grow complacent. You will need each and every day that I give you to have even a prayer of success."
Adrenaline rushed through Spike's veins, washing away his uncertainty. A smile crept across his tear-stained face. "I will, but why give this to me?" The smile faded a bit. "What's in it for you?"
Midnight lifted her head and used magic to push aside stray locks of her silken mane. "Just as I give unto you the key to what you desire, so shall you—in learning to use it—discover the key to what I desire."
Spike had no idea what the mare's cryptic statement meant, and somehow, he didn't care. The weapon in his hands mesmerized him. It made him feel, for the first time in a long while, that anything was possible. Anything, that is, except for the movement he spied out of the corner of his eye. As Midnight turned to leave, her cloak moved about her midsection in a way that it shouldn't have, as if there were another pair of appendages under there besides her four legs.
Spike had a sudden sinking feeling as he watched the strange mare disappear into the fog. What had he just gotten himself into?
NOW
[Dawn of Day 31]
Screw Loose examined the side of a pine tree that had caught her attention. Pockmarks, scratches, and chipped bark all told the tale of the damage done to it five months before, even in the dim pinkish light of early dawn. The cloaked mare's blue eyes swept back and forth over the battered trunk. Her chapped lips stretched into a crooked smile. "Looks like somepony was having fun."
WHACK!
The metal butt of a spear hit Screw Loose square in the jaw. Stars exploded in her vision and she toppled over, landing flat on her back in the dew-soaked underbrush. Waves of pain rushed through her cranium and, when her eyesight finally cleared, she found three sharpened speartips ready to do the same.
Three stallions wearing the familiar golden armor of royal knights held their weapons at Screw Loose's face by means of side harnesses. The shortest among them declared, "Stay right where you are, missy. One false move out of you and you'll never make another. Are we clear?"
"As a bell," answered Screw Loose. She rubbed at the fresh welt on her cheek and smiled seductively. "That feels amazing. Do you give it to your marefriend this good?"
The stallion snarled and made an emphatic movement with his spear. "Watch your mouth, villain."
Screw Loose shook with a bit of silent mirth. "I can't."
An armored pegasus stallion bearing the plumage of a captain trotted into view flanked by several others. He snorted and grinned with pride. "I do love it when an ambush goes off without a hitch." He looked down his nose at the prone mare before him. "Pardon our intrusion into your morning constitutional, miss, but you look an awful lot like the wanted criminal Screw Loose. Might you be that very mare?"
"Uh-huh," said Screw Loose in the tone of a playful filly. "That's me~ I enjoy chocolate rain, long walks in the Etheria . . ." Her eyes turned violet. "And I love—" Her voice stopped suddenly. Her mouth went slack, and her eyes drifted down to the spear sticking out of her chest.
"They warned us about your eyes," said the shortest stallion as he jammed the blade in harder. "Castin' some magic, huh? I bet you can't teleport so easily with somethin' inside you that don't belong."
Screw Loose simply looked at the wound in silent stupor. Blood seeped past the blade and coursed down her side.
"What have you done?!" shouted the captain. "Our orders were to take her alive!" He advanced on the culprit with a raised hoof, but paused at the sound of laughter.
Screw Loose giggled madly and began pushing the spear around in the wound. "You interrupted me," she said as the red blood flowing from her injury began to run black. "I was . . . I was trying to tell you what I love . . ." Her giggles transformed into riotous laughter that echoed across the dense woodland.
The soldiers shouted in surprise as lines of red light traced themselves along the ground. They recoiled from the strange phenomena, but it was no use—the intricate patterns of light overtook them in a trice and continued to spread. The ground cracked along the lines with the sound of snapping bones. Red light poured forth from the depths.
Screw Loose pulled herself up and latched onto the stallion who'd stabbed her, heedless of the weapon plunging further inside her. "You know what I love?" she managed in the throes of her hilarity.
Several soldiers dropped their gear and ran only to be snagged by black, oily tendrils that leapt out of the glowing crevices. Their screams as the substance welded itself to their bodies drowned out the sound of laughter.
Screw Loose put her smiling visage so close to the stallion's that they could see nothing but each others' eyes and coughed, hacking up a mixture of blood and black sludge onto the unfortunate soldier's face. The stallion cried out in pain and terror, but Screw Loose held him tight and shouted directly into his ears.
"I LOVE IT WHEN I CAN JUST BE MYSELF!"
My Little Pony: Lost Legacies
The Kindness of Others
~