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// Chapter Seven - A Leap of Faith 
// Story: DECEPTION 
// by Christian Harisay 
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	The small droplets of steamy, spring-like water pelting Twilight’s fur had soothed her into a meditative state. She breathed the vapor in deep, then let out a sigh from what little relief the hot water had brought. The pain afflicting her sides was perpetual, even with the heated mist and her slowed thought processes deadening her senses.

To say she was in a completely meditative state was actually wrong: it was more like she had managed to find the eye of the hurricane in her stormy thoughts. But the small moment of peace could not last forever, and a gust of thinking pulled at her conscience.

I still can’t believe this… my mind thinks that I’m supposed to have wings! But I’m a unicorn!

Whatever contentment she had managed to gain from the steamy environment was shattered when another bolt of sharp pain stabbed her sides. She sucked in air through her clenched teeth, fighting to keep another scream of pain from escaping.

She looked back at her sides, and for a split second, her mind’s eye saw the vibrant, lavender plume of her wings. Then a split second tore the illusion away.

More screws drilled their way through her. She looked away and closed her eyes in an attempt to return to her realm of relaxation. She drooped her head, hanging limp under the spraying jets as she tried to lose herself in the water pelting her, drenching her mane and the fur on her face. It wasn’t working very well.

On a whim, she put a hoof to one of the spots just behind the shoulder blades of her forelegs. Pain shot through her, making her whimper, but she held her hoof to the area of affliction, and attempted to replicate the massage that Aloe and Lotus had given her earlier that day. It didn’t fully alleviate the pain, but at least it helped. With her mind less burdened by her current physical ailments, she reinstated her contemplative thinking.

Okay, I’m suffering from phantom limb syndrome due to an idea that I planted in my own mind. So how do I fix this? Because if this problem originated in limbo, then the best, if only perceivable way to remedy the situation would be to go that deep again…

A horrible death. A dangerous game with loneliness. Being drowned back to life.

Nope. I’d rather not deal with that right now. So what can I do? There isn’t a whole lot that I can do on the surface to fix what I did to myself, so the only thing I can do from here is deal with the symptoms of my disorder. What could I even do? My mind is working on the premise that I’m supposed to have wings, but my brain knows that I don’t, so the widening disconnect between what I subconsciously think and what I know is causing me physical pain.

But how am I supposed to accomplish anything without going back into limbo? What am I supposed to do? Pander to my own delusions and pretend that I have wings?

Twilight moved her hoof in the wrong direction, eliciting another stab of pain, and she yelped in anguish. She looked to where her wings should have been, grimaced, and exhaled a groan as she turned to face the artificial waterfall again.

It’s that, or work up the nerve to willingly trap myself in limbo, try to reverse the damage I’ve done, then wait for a week in my own private, lonely Tartarus while Spike or somepony else takes five seconds to wake me up… assuming that I do wake up and it wasn’t because of some miracle that I escaped last time...

Twilight sighed, then closed her eyes again. She waited for herself to relax in the solace of the steam, then imagined herself sitting in the shower with a pair of wings affixed to her.

Okay… I have wings…

She imagined opening her wings out underneath the streams of perfectly warm water, spreading her feathers and letting the liquid seep between, the droplets cascaded down them and drip like rain from the ends.

I have wings…

She imagined using a little private time to give her wings some tender love and care. She imagined using special soaps to clean them, rinsing underneath the delightful jets of the shower, then taking some time to preen the damaged, old, or loose feathers, and finally pampering herself with a little grooming before ruffling her feathers and shaking out any residual droplets.

I have wings…

She wondered how her friends would take it. Applejack would most likely be blown away. Fluttershy would probably be uncertain, but eventually come around when she realized she’d have somepony ask for help when she needed assistance feeding the birds. Rarity would insist upon scheduling a time that she could stop by to model new dresses and apparel to showcase her new assets. Rainbow Dash would instantly squeal “AWESOME!” then drag her up into the air to go flying. And Pinkie, of course, would throw her a party.

Well, if she was in a normal state of mind, that is.

Her mood fell like a stone, and she reopened her eyes. Pinkie was still out there, and if what Rarity and Fluttershy had told her earlier, whatever she was going through was only getting worse. She knew Pinkie wanted her privacy, but it was getting to the point where Twilight felt it was in everypony’s best interest if she and her friends intervened.

But how? We don’t even know what’s wrong, let alone how to help solve it. And on top of that, it’s imperative that I find a way to help Spike…

She yawned, and realized just how tired she felt. It had been a busy day: waking up feeling like she was stabbed, hurting Spike’s feelings, galloping all the way to the hospital after he had gotten injured, then finishing the last headache-inducing line of Dreamscape only to come to the realization that she had accidentally performed an inception on herself when she was stuck in limbo.

I’ll deal with this tomorrow. I’ll need my sleep if I’m to be of use to anypony.

Twilight stood up, turned off the water with her magic, then shook herself to fling off as much water as possible. She pulled the curtain back and stepped onto the bathroom rug. Several towels and a few brushes became enveloped in her magenta glow. She levitated them over to herself, then began to dry her coat and brush her mane and tail.

One of the towels moved to her side, and she hesitated. With trepidation in her movements, she placed the towel to her side and gently rubbed. She gasped a little; it still hurt, but far less than it did before. It felt more like a sore bruise than a stab wound.

Well, that’s an improvement, I guess.

Now more dry, she approached the bathroom sink to brush her teeth before she finished getting ready for bed. After she’d rinsed and spit, she looked up and caught her own gaze in the mirror. She stared at herself in detached, oblivious interest. By happenstance, she caught sight of her wingless back, and she felt the pain begin to creep up on her then.

Instantly she whipped her head away from the mirror, shut her eyes, and began reciting the fallacy to herself again.

I have wings… I have wings…

“You know you can’t keep this up forever,” a voice said from the mirror. Twilight looked up to see Reason’s concerned face gazing back at her.

“I know,” Twilight replied as she looked away again. “But it’s just for now. Who knows; maybe I’ll somehow be able to get better this way.”

“So you’re going to do the same thing over and over again, and expect a different result? You know what they say that defines.” Reason scoffed. There was a brief pause. “Don’t we usually have these face-to-face conversations, you know, face to face?”

“Yeah, but if I’m going to make at least part of me buy into this illusion, I can’t give it any reason to doubt; that means no mirrors.”

“So I guess we are insane as we ignore the mirror’s truth,” Reason said. “You know this is just treating a symptom. What are you going to do to solve it, Twilight?”

“Aside from committing suicide in a dream and temporarily imprisoning myself in the worst place I’ve ever been in? I don’t know.” Twilight looked up at Reason out of the corner of her eye. “What would you do?”

Reason sighed. “Aside from what you just mentioned? I don’t know, either.” The two of them hung their heads in the silence.

BANG BANG BANG!

Twilight yelped in surprise as Spike hammered upon the bathroom door, calling for her from the other side. “Twilight? Twilight?!”

Twilight cleared her throat, and answered. “Yes, Spike? What is it?”

“Twilight, it’s Pinkie!”

Twilight’s eyes shot open as her heart leapt into her throat. Whatever grogginess had been hampering her instantly dissipated, and she was at the bathroom door, ripping it open before she could even blink.

“Pinkie?! What about her?!”

Spike jumped back, startled from the outburst. It took a second for him to regain his composure. “She said that she, and I quote, ‘Really, really, really, very REALLY’ needs to talk to you. But it’s raining really bad outside, so I gave her some towels and a little bit of chamomile tea to warm her up before I came up here to get you.”

Twilight’s mouth drew open. “Pinkie is here? Right now?!”

“Yeah. She’s just downsta—whoa, Twilight; wait!” Spike exclaimed, grabbing hold of Twilight’s tail and tugging on it as she tried to gallop past him.

“No, Spike!” Twilight barked. “If Pinkie is finally saying that she needs help, then I have to go help her!”

“I know! I’m not saying you shouldn’t, but Twilight, wait! Please!”

Twilight did stop and wait when she saw the genuine urgency in Spike’s expression.

“Pinkie doesn’t… I don’t know; she just doesn’t seem like Pinkie. When I went to make her the tea, she insisted that I not put so much as a drop of honey in it. Since when does Pinkie not put some sweetener into whatever she’s eating? And she just has this… look, around her, like she’s really on edge, but I’ve never seen her this bad before. And mind you, I was there when she first thought that you guys didn’t want to be her friends anymore. Seriously, Twilight; it’s like she just saw somepony close to her die! So… just be careful, would you?”

Twilight nodded, and her expression softened. “Alright, Spike; I will. Thank you, by the way.” She took a few steps forward, then turned around to Spike again. “Would you come with me, please? I might need your help.”

Spike nodded in reply, then followed Twilight as she slowly left the bathroom and looked down into the dark foyer from the top of the stairs. It took every ounce of restraint to keep herself from teleporting downstairs and tackling Pinkie with the most compassionate hug that she could give, and not just because her heart ached to hold her again after not seeing her for three weeks. Never before in all the time that Twilight had known her did Pinkie look more in need of a hug then she did right now.

Pinkie was sitting on the floor, hunched over by the table in the middle of the room with her back to the two of them. A few used towels from the linen closet lay nearby. Another towel was draped across her back like funeral attire. Twilight couldn’t even see her face, but it was still clear even from her subdued posture that she was in terrible distress. Her mane and tail were flat, limp, and joyless; even the parts of her coat that showed from beneath the towel looked grey and ashen.

The two descended the stairs like sunlight dispersing storm clouds. Twilight approached Pinkie with a cautious pace, Spike following right behind.

Pinkie was a quivering leaf in a bitter, cold wind. Her irregular, shuddering breaths were occasionally interrupted by a loud sniff as the teacup and saucer clattered against each other in her trembling hooves.

She still hadn’t noticed either of them. Twilight circled around her, giving her a wide berth as she neared. The first sight of Pinkie’s miserable face almost broke Twilight’s heart. Her ears were plastered to the back of her head, a deep frown had been carved out of her mouth, and her fitful eyes glistened with an over-accumulation of tears, dams ready to burst.

Twilight could stand it no more. She carefully trotted around her friend, who still hadn’t noticed her, sat down in front of her, and broke the silence as gently as she could.

“Pinkie?”

“AAAH!”

Pinkie lurched back in shock, her pupils shrunken to pinpricks. The china fell from her hooves in the commotion and smashed into the ground, breaking into several pieces and spilling her tea over the floorboards surrounding the table.

Pinkie stared at the aftermath in horror. “Twilight… I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean… never mind. I’ll just go... ”

“Pinkie, don’t—”

“You must hate me now; you’re not going to want to be my friend…”

“Pinkie...”

“If not now, then you would have after I told you… everypony should hate the pony that nopony should be friends with...”

“No, Pinkie!”

Twilight’s counter rooted Pinkie in place, but the depressed pony still cowered before her.

“I don’t hate you, and I never will. Look, it’s just some spilled tea and a few pieces of broken ceramic.”

Twilight picked up the broken pieces of the porcelain with her magic, set them on the table, then took one of the towels and wiped up the tea seeping over the cracks and onto the other planks. With the mess cleaned, she set the towel back on the table and picked up the shards of china with her magic. She put the pieces back in place, then channeled a little more mana into the broken wares. The cracks disappeared as the pieces coalesced and the glaze unified, leaving no evidence of the fractures.

“See?” Twilight held out the healed items for Pinkie to see. “Good as new. It’s just a plate and a cup. These kinds of things are easy to fix.” She looked away as she put the set back down on the table. “Friendships and broken hearts, however...”

Twilight let out somber sigh as she looked back to her dear friend.

“Where have you been, Pinkie? We’ve all been so worried about you...”

Pinkie’s dismal expression returned in force, and she looked away. “Hiding,” she said through the lump in her dry throat to the floor. “I’ve been hiding, like a coward.”

“We just came to the conclusion that you wanted some time to yourself. That’s not cowardly, Pinkie. I think we’ve all had some problem before where we wanted to be alone for a little while.”

“No...” Pinkie muttered. “No... not before. Not like this...”

“But you’re here now,” Twilight reassured her. “If whatever is bothering you has been something that you’ve been too afraid to let anypony know, then I’d say that finally opening up and sharing it is a very brave thing to do.”

Pinkie sniffed and wiped her muzzle with the back of a hoof. “No, I’m not brave, just… desperate.”

Twilight frowned again, then looked to her assistant. “Spike, would you please go make us some more tea? Nopony can brew up a pot of soothing camomile like you can...”

Spike nodded. “Sure thing, Twi.”

Twilight smiled, and passed him the formerly broken porcelain. “Thank you. Take your time, it needs to be perfect.”

Spike scampered off into the kitchen with the china, leaving the two mares to each other in the dimly-lit foyer, with no other witnesses than the rain pounding down upon the tree, the flashes of lightning and the distant bellows of thunder.

“So… Spike said that you really needed to talk to me...”

Pinkie tensed up and remained silent, looking back and forth between Twilight and anything else that offered a distraction.

“It’s okay, Pinkie; you can trust me.”

Pinkie’s eye contact continued to drift, and her sealed frown remained unbroken.

“I promise that I won’t think any less of you.”

Pinkie looked back at Twilight, and their eyes locked onto each other. Beneath the quivering pools of contained tears straining to break free, there was the tiniest flicker of hope.

“Pinkie Promise?”

“Cross my heart, hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my...” Wait; close eye first, then touch. “Eye.”

A slight dimple tugged at Pinkie’s cheek, only to disappear the instant after: lost to the crease of her frown. She took a long, deep breath, held it for a moment, then let it out with a shudder.

“Lately, I’ve been having these… dreams. They started out as odd, and that’s all they were; just, odd.” Pinkie paused, and took a moment to dry-swallow.

Twilight leaned forward a little. “How were they odd?”

Pinkie scrunched up her face a little with pensive reminision. “Odd to a level that weirded even me out.” She gulped. “In the first one… I dreamt of when we fought Discord… the first time around, I mean. Not when you and I… yeah.

“He got me to turn against the rest of you. He said that none of you really liked my parties, or me, and I believed him. I never felt so alone as I did there, but then he told me that he could give me all the parties that I wanted… and I accepted.

“We never defeated him. We never returned Equestria to normal, because Discord and I got close, like closest of close friends, and we had so much fun with the chaos. But then, one night, we got...” Pinkie’s throat clenched up. She didn’t speak, but began making motions with her forehooves, moving them in a way as if to clop them together. “We got really... really close...”

She put her hooves back down, and continued to have her heart-to-heart with the wood. “Then… eleven months later… we had a little foal together… and we named him Distort...”

Pinkie looked back up at Twilight through the curtain of her mane. Her face was a distressing portrait of confusion, disbelief, and worry. “Twilight… I dreamt that I had a foal… with Discord. DISCORD, for Celestia’s sake! How could I dream about having s— how could I dream about him like… like that?”

“I’m… well, I’m afraid that I’m not entirely sure, Pinkie. I’m sorry. Dreams originate from the subconscious,” Twilight said, completely lost as to what facial expression to adopt. “You can’t control it, remember? But… you said that this happened the night after we shared that dream together; the night before we last met, yes? Do you think that might have something to do with it?”

“I don’t know… maybe,” Pinkie muttered, despondent. “Do you?”

“Perhaps. It’s really just speculation; an educated guess at best… do you think that maybe your automated cognition was negatively affected enough by the events of our shared dream that your subconscious attempted to soften the trauma by trying to attach a more positive connotation to an antagonizing notion?”

Pinkie looked at her blankly.

“Do you think that we went through was so bad that your subconscious tried to turn it into a positive experience?” Twilight revised her previous statement.

“Probably,” Pinkie mumbled, though her voice still carried a level of uncertainty. “But all throughout that day, I just couldn’t get either of those dreams out of my mind. It’s like all my thoughts and feelings about Discord were trying to follow me back into real life. Both of when we fought, and when we had...”

Pinkie’s countenance became a battleground of conflicted emotions again. She turned away from Twilight, and became fixated on the ground to her right. When she spoke again, her dry voice had descended a half-step in its pitch, making her look and sound even more diminished and depressed.

“When I woke up that morning… I was still moaning… still twisting around in my soiled bed sheets...” She squirmed on the spot, refusing to meet Twilight’s face. “I’m almost thankful that I woke up as early as I did, before anypony else got up, because I had to do a really, really embarrassing load of laundry afterwards...”

Several moments passed in a tense silence that was broken only by the muffled patter of the rain pouring down upon the tree and the distant roars of the rampaging thunder.

“Is that why you were so on edge when I came to see you that day? Because you were still dealing with all of these opposing feelings?”

“Y-yeah, a little.” Pinkie sniffed, wiping her nose. “I was still worked up from having to fight Discord in that dream we had together the day before, and then thrown on top of that, I had the feelings from all that… intimacy, but I didn’t want to be feeling those things because they were with Discord, but then I would remember just how right it felt in the moment, and then I would realize how those things never happened and then I would think that maybe it was just some silly little fantasy but how could I have dreams like that when the projection of that big dumb meanie was so evil and how could I have all these things in my head and wasIjustlosingmymindamIgoingcrazy?”

“Pinkie, easy!” Twilight tried to settle Pinkie. “Just slow down, take a deep breath, and try to remain calm.”

“Calmdown? HowamIsupposedtocalmdown?! I’mgoinginsane!”

“Pinkie, please!” Twilight put a hoof on Pinkie’s shoulder, doing her best to remain the sturdy foundation in the turbulence. “Please; calm. Down.”

It took a few moments, but Pinkie’s breathing eventually deepened and started coming at slower intervals.

Twilight congratulated her with a smile. “That’s a good filly.” She gave a little, reassuring rub of the shoulder. “Feel better?”

“A little… thank you...” Pinkie muttered.

“That’s good. You’re welcome.” Twilight pulled her hoof back to reestablish firm footing. “So, is that why you’ve been so reclusive for the last few days? Because of this dream?”

Pinkie’s next breath trembled as it left her. She visibly shook as she exhaled, like the air was actually a ghost that had just passed through her body, trying to steal her warmth.

“No, not entirely. I was still hosting parties and meeting with ponies then, remember?”

“Oh yeah, sorry; I forgot. It’s been a long time since we last met.”

Pinkie sighed again. “Hard to believe that was only four days ago...”

Twilight’s muscles tensed up and her mouth pulled tight. Nine seconds… it was only nine seconds

“So, if you were still willing to socialize with other ponies after that dream, what changed?” Twilight asked.

Pinkie looked down, and the reply she choked out was barely audible. “They got worse.”

Pinkie shifted in place for a few moments, taking some time to breathe the sullen atmosphere of the library in deep. A flash of lightning illuminated the agonized features of her face, revealing just how deep the creases of her expressions were.

“In the dream the night after, well... I don’t remember much of the beginning. Something about us being lost in some huge, icky city where everyone was crazy. We escaped the city, because being there had left Equestria in crisis… and ended up in a goddess-forsaken no-mare’s land of nightmares and beasts that could have crawled straight out of Tartarus. And that’s not even half of it.

“We had no supplies, no food, and no hope of make it through alive, so we were happy when six mares just like gave us help... but there was just something, off about them. They were so shady, yet seemed so much like us. I swear, it’s like they were our evil clones or something. Go figure, they did turn on us, and they began to... hunt us…” Pinkie began to tremble again, and her voice shuddered with each mortified breath. “They could do stuff that was so scary…. Red… she made me… see things….”

Pinkie clenched her eyes shut, and thrashed her head back and forth several times. “Each time, we escaped by the skin of our teeth, and then it was back to dragging on through the nightmarish wastes as we slowly starved to death. Then we started to fight each other. We got so angry… it got so bad that… Dashie… she left us!”

Pinkie looked back up to Twilight, and tears were already dripping from her face. “She left us! Dashie, my closest friend… She left us! She left me!” Pinkie hard swallowed again, and literally had to force out her next words. “She did eventually come back, and right in time to save us from those wicked mares, and she begged for forgiveness. We welcomed her back, especially me, but I never got to know how it ended; I woke up too soon. I never got to find out if we escaped.”

Pinkie fell silent, and devoted her attention back to the floor again.

Twilight leaned in. “But Pinkie, what was so terrible that made you lock yourself in your room since then?”

Pinkie began to shake her head in fitful dismay. “No, Twilight, no… you don’t get it… Dashie is one of my super-best, closest friends of all time, but in that dream we weren’t just friends! We were...” Another knot formed in Pinkie’s throat, impeding her speech, so she opted for making the same motions with her hooves as before. “We were really, really close!

“At the end of the dream, when she came back just in time to save us and tell us how sorry she was, I tackled her with a hug, then I almost… right in front of you all! But it gets worse! When I woke up, Dashie...” Pinkie looked back up at Twilight. Her bottom lip quivered, and the space between her eyebrows bunched up. “It wasn’t just in the dream, Twilight. When I woke up, I… I needed her…

“For the entire morning, no matter how hard I tried, I just couldn’t get her out of my head. I just couldn’t stop thinking about her. I was so confused... So when Mr. Cake came by to see if I was up, I said I wasn’t feeling well, which was sort of true. And then you came by, but… I dunno; I didn’t think I could handle being around anypony at the moment. I mean, how would anypony take it if I told them what I was feeling?”

A very awkward pause settled over the library. Trying to look anywhere but directly at Pinkie, Twilight craned her neck back towards the kitchen. “Spike, how is that tea coming? What’s taking so long?”

“Perfection takes time,” Spike muttered back from the kitchen. “Give me a few more minutes, okay?”

“Okay. Thanks for helping out again.” Twilight replied, and forced her attention back to Pinkie. “So after I left to go see Rarity, what did you do?”

Pinkie looked away. “I stayed in my room, all hot, bothered, and going out of my mind over how and why I felt… that way. And that’s where I stayed... then you and Dashie showed up.”

The distraught Pinkie looked back up to Twilight. Her bottom lip was trembling again. “I was scared, Twilight. I was scared of my own feelings. I was scared because I didn’t know why I was feeling them. I was scared about how Dashie would take it if she found out. But most of all, I was scared because when she tried to open the window... I knew that if she got into my bedroom, I… I wouldn’t have been able to stop myself...”

A protracted moment of tense speechlessness descended upon them once more. Twilight was actually surprised by how much effort it took to say something in the wake of Pinkie’s abashed admission. 

“So… what did you do next?”

“I snuck out of my room, and took the coldest shower I’ve ever taken in my life. But even after I started shivering so much that I could hardly stand, it still hadn’t helped at all. So I just dried myself off, and snuck back into my room.” Pinkie tilted her head back down, breaking eye contact with Twilight as she slowly began to fiddle with her forehooves.

Twilight gasped. “But then we showed up again...”

Pinkie’s frown deepened. “If you and Scootaloo hadn’t been there, I would have pulled Rainbow into my bedroom, locked the door, and I would have… done things to her. I wanted to do everything to her. And even though I knew she would freak out, and I knew it would destroy our friendship, I still wouldn’t have been able to stop myself. I wanted her that bad.”

Pinkie fell silent again, leaving the next prompt to Twilight. “So, how did you manage to control yourself that time?”

Pinkie’s self-conscious tail curled tightly around her hind-quarters. When Pinkie looked back up to Twilight, her eyes were drowning underneath glistening tears of shame, frustration, and regret. Her breathing began to shake again, and she managed to choke out a strained whisper.

“I… couldn’t.”

Pinkie tore her humiliated, guilt-ridden gaze from Twilight and directed it down towards the floor again, only to catch sight of her forehooves. Their fiddling stopped dead as Pinkie stared at her right hoof. Several tears escaped her eyes as her culpable grimace deepened while she softly wept.

“I’ve never been so ashamed… Not in a dream, not in the real world, not… ever…”

Twilight could only stare at the scene of her miserable friend. Her own throat had become oddly dry. The heft of Pinkie’s confessions felt like weights being slugged onto her back, making it even more strenuous to breathe, even when the despondence in the air was already so thick it could be cut into portions and served with a frown.

“Pinkie, are sure sure you feel comfortable telling me this? If you don’t want to continue, I’d understand perfectly.”

Pinkie sniffled heavily, and wiped her nose again on her left foreleg. “I don’t want to continue, but I feel like I have to. I’ve been holding all this in, and it’s tearing me up on the inside. I have to tell somepony, Twilight. I didn’t know who I could turn to. I trust you, and I know you wouldn’t betray that trust.”

Twilight allowed herself a slight smile. “Losing a friend’s trust is the fastest way to lose a friend forever, right?”

Pinkie dried her eyes with a nearby towel. “Yeah… well, who can you trust if you can’t put your faith in your friends?”

Twilight looked intently at Pinkie with as much sincerity and compassion that she had within her capacity. “So you’re willing to take a leap of faith with me?”

Pinkie looked up at Twilight. Her disparaged face was still beaten and afflicted by anguish and anxiety, and her eyes still shimmered with a layer of barely-contained tears, but that flicker of hope briefly broke the surface again, and Pinkie nodded, quick and short.

“Alright,” Twilight acknowledged, “if you need a minute, go ahead.”

Pinkie looked off into the distance, drew in a deep breath of air, and let it out with a long, impoverished sigh. “So for those first couple of nights, my dreams were just nightmarish. On the third night, they became full-blown nightmares.

“I dreamt that I was… I don’t know where. It looked like Ponyville, but it was silent, empty, isolated by an abyss that wasn’t there before, and covered in a thick mist that made it hard to see. The whole town was decaying, like nopony had lived there in years. There was… blood on the walls… dead bodies everywhere… and monsters...”

Pinkie wrapped her forelegs around her and she began to shake in fear. “Oh dear Celestia, the monsters… rotting, groaning zombies, white fillies that had been torn in half, a faceless, slender pony in a suit and… and me.” She looked back up at Twilight, and her trembling became even more violent. “I was one of the monsters, Twilight. Another me, in a dress made from the coats of ponies...”

Pinkie exhaled a shudder, quivering like she was on the verge of sobbing. “When I woke up, I knew it was just a dream, but… oh Twilight, I was terrified! I was scared that if I left my room, the shop outside would be rotting, abandoned, and dead. I was scared to death that if I looked out my window, I wouldn’t be able to see down the street because of the fog. I was horrified that there would be monsters…  that I would see my friends as monsters. I was even scared to look at myself in a mirror for fear that I’d find myself in a dress made from cutie marks…

“I didn’t even leave my room that day. I just hid under the bedsheets, and kept myself fed off some of the treats I keep stashed there. I just stayed there until I got tired, but I was afraid to go to sleep by then, because I was afraid of what I would dream about. I tried to stay awake. I would have stayed up all night if I had to, but I couldn’t. And the dream I had that night was… it was...”

Twilight scooted a little closer to Pinkie. “What was it?”

Pinkie’s face went pale. “It was worse than the depths of Tartarus.”

“Everything had been destroyed in a terrible war. Equestria was reduced to nothing but a uninhabitable wasteland in the fallout. The sun and moon couldn’t be seen from the ground; just ugly, greenish clouds connected from one end of the sky to another. Ponyville, Manehatten, Fillydelphia… it was all in ruins. And as I wandered through it all, I found out not just what had happened to Equestria, but what had happened to us… what had happened to me…”

“We were all so busy trying to stop the war from happening, that we couldn’t see each other anymore. But then it happened anyway… and I died without seeing any of my friends… or even getting to say goodbye… alone...”

Twilight could only stare, shaking, as a tear rolled down her own cheek. Try as she might to hide it, she was all too familiar with the horror Pinkie had just described.

“Oh, Pinkie...”

Twilight wordlessly opened her forelegs in invitation. Pinkie’s expression became even more distraught, and she lunged forward for the unicorn, wrapping her forelegs around Twilight’s neck and burying her face into Twilight’s nape, where she began to sob.

A few moments passed before Spike made himself known again by softly clearing his throat. Twilight looked to him. He was carrying a platter with a teapot that still had a little steam flowing from the spout, two tea cups on saucers, and bottle of honey with some daisies off to the side.

“Do you still want this?” he asked

“Yes, Spike. Thank you.” Twilight replied, and took the tray from Spike’s claws with her magic. She placed the set on the table, poured some of the tea into a waiting cup, added some honey and one of the daisies, then gingerly prodded Pinkie with her muzzle.

“Spike made us tea,” she said, motioning towards the glass and moving it towards Pinkie. “Drink this, it’ll make you feel better.”

Pinkie slowly let go of Twilight, took the cup in both of her shaking hooves, and took a miniscule sip before putting the cup down again to grab one of the nearby towels and vociferously blow her nose into it.

Spike sighed, slightly annoyed. “I’ll go get some tissues,” he said, then turned and walked away.

Pinkie waited until Spike had gone upstairs, followed by the sound of him entering the bathroom and closing the door. She looked down, defeated, and let out a pained sigh. “But do you want to know the worst part?”

“Wait, there’s more?” Twilight blurted, incredulous.

Pinkie’s voice was becoming more strained. “In all of those nightmares… every single one, there was something… something about… cupcakes...”

As the last word left her mouth like it was the most terrifying thing she’d ever uttered, Pinkie’s frown went from gloomy to tortured. Her physical trembles returned with violence, and she began to hyperventilate.

“Pinkie...” Twilight asked, “Pinkie, what happened?”

Pinkie clenched her eyes shut and began thrashing her head back and forth. Tears leaked through her eyelids as she began to sputter. “T-toni-ight, I dre-dreamt th-that I… I...”

With one last grimace of suffering, Pinkie whipped her face back to Twilight, with tears drenching her face and unfathomable torment pouring from her shattered eyes.

“I KILLED HER! I… I KILLED DASHIE!”

Twilight reared back, petrified. “WHAT?!”

“I lied to her! I-I told her I wanted to bake something together, but then I knocked her out and tied her to a table in the basement! I… I was wearing a dress made of pony coats! I c-cut off her c-cutie mar-mark! I-I… I c-chopped o-off her wi... her wings! I TORE HER OPEN AND RIPPED OUT HER GUTS! A-and th-then I-I ch-chopped them u-up in… into little p-p-pie-ces, and u-used Dashie’s in-innards t-to… to make…”

Pinkie let out tormented, ear-splitting shriek of agony. She lunged at Twilight, wrapping her forelegs tightly around the unicorn and burying her face into Twilight’s breast, where she began to scream beyond restraint.

Twilight had to resist screaming out in pain herself. Pinkie was squeezing her right where her mind thought that her wings should have been. Butcher knives skewered her sides and imaginary limbs, setting every nerve ending in her body on fire.

“Pinkie...” Twilight desperately prodded Pinkie with a hoof, hoping to get some respite before a scream escaped her lips.

Pinkie didn’t even react to Twilight. She just kept crying out of control, filling the library with the sound of her woe, lost to suffering.

“Pinkie...” Twilight shook Pinkie with more urgency. Her tolerance for the pain was dissolving by the second, and she knew she would lose control and snap any second if she didn’t free herself from Pinkie’s grasp.

The broken mare wailed in throes of anguish. Her entire form buckled and convulsed as she was wracked with retching sobs. She screamed like meat hooks had been driven into her body as her fervent, desperate grip around Twilight got even tighter...

“PINKIE!”

 Pinkie howled in abject despair, letting go of Twilight. “I knew it! Now you know the truth, and you don’t want to be my friend anymore!” At that, Pinkie turned around, and galloped for the door, weeping hysterically.

“Pinkie, stop!” Twilight called out with urgency as she teleported in between Pinkie and the front door, blocking the path. “I didn’t mean to yell; please don’t run away!”

“NO! You don’t want to be my friend anymore, and neither will anypony else!”

“No, Pinkie! I still want to be your friend, and I still want to help you!”

“Don’t try to fool me Twilight!” Pinkie cried. “You yelled at me because you didn’t want me holding onto you!”

“That wasn’t because I didn’t want you to hug me, Pinkie, it’s because I just so happened to develop pha—nerve damage where you had your legs around me.”

“So now I hurt you too, and you’ll want me to leave!”

“Pinkie, please! I don’t want you to leave. Yes, it hurt, but I know you didn’t mean it, and I can tolerate any physical pain if it means helping you with your emotional one!”

Twilight looked at her with big, pleading eyes filled with sympathy: a composure that was not easy to maintain when it still felt like she had knives sticking out of her sides.

“Please believe me, Pinkie. I said I wouldn’t betray your trust, and I won’t. Just… please believe me…”

“She’s not lying about the pain in her sides, Pinkie.”

The two mares looked away from each other to Spike, who had returned from his most recent fetch-quest and was standing several paces behind Pinkie with a box of tissues in one hand, and a wastebasket in the other.

“I ran into her earlier this morning, and the exact same thing happened to me.” Spike shot Twilight an accusatorial glare when he emphasized the word “exact.”

Pinkie still quivered, sniffling as she regarded Twilight with stormy eyes. “So… s-so y-y-you really… don’t w-want m-me to leave?”

Twilight smiled, warm and compassionate. “Of course not, Pinkie. I never did.”

Another cascade of emotions pulsed in a maelstrom across Pinkie’s face. The corners of her mouth pulled tight, trying to form a smile, but she could only shake until her legs gave out from underneath her. She collapsed to the floor, burying her face under her forehooves as another wave of crying crashed down upon her.

Spike approached Pinkie and nudged her shoulder with the box of tissues. Pinkie whipped around and yanked out almost half of the container’s contents without a word, then proceeded to obliterate them, hoof-fulls at a time, as she blew her nose into them.

Spike let out a tiny grumble as he bent over to scoop up the ruined tissues, still dripping with a mixture of tears and snot, and disposed of them in the trashcan he had brought with him. Twilight walked up to Pinkie, sat down in front of her, and cradled her head in compassionate hooves.

“W-where does i-it hurt?” Pinkie blubbered.

“Just behind my shoulder blades,” Twilight said with a wince; it still felt like she had blades sticking in her. “Where my wings should be…”

Spike’s eyebrow arched upward in confusion at her.

”If I was an alicorn.” Twilight quickly added. “Everywhere else is fine.”

Pinkie let out a pained whimper and wrapped her forelegs around Twilight’s lower barrel, then buried her head into Twilight’s stomach, where she proceeded to cry. Twilight moved a hoof to the back of Pinkie’s head, and began to brush over her mane with long, comforting strokes.

“Twilight...” Pinkie looked up at the unicorn with imploring eyes, still glistening with leaking tears: the eyes of a foal still scared and wounded from terrible fear. “What’s wrong with me?”

Twilight sighed, dismayed. “I’m not entirely sure, Pinkie.” She pursed her lips for a moment, thoughtful. “You started having these nightmares after that shared dream we had a few days ago, right?”

Pinkie’s head brushed across Twilight’s abdomen as she gently nodded.

“Well, maybe this has something to do with that anomaly in your subconscious that all the over-manipulation revealed. The one that projected… you know… Discord.”

Pinkie shuddered, and her grip on Twilight tightened.

“Wait,” Spike interjected, “you took Pinkie into a dream?”

“Yeah,” Twilight nodded, “on the day of that big water balloon fight.”

“Huh,” Spike noted, scratching his chin, “that explains a lot.”

Twilight turned her attention back to Pinkie. “I think that maybe, if we go back into a dream together—”

Pinkie’s head shot up, eyes wide and pupils shrunken.”What? NO!”

“Pinkie, easy; if this problem was uncovered through Dreamscape, then that spell could be our best bet to getting to the root of the problem in order to fix it.”

“You’re not suggesting that the two of us...”

Twilight cut her off with a shake of her head. “No, not just the two of us… Pinkie, I think we need to let the rest of our friends in on this.”

Whatever sparse amount of color that had been lingering in Pinkie’s face drained instantly away, vanishing like a ghost. “No, no, you can’t tell them! I don’t want them to know… I don’t… Dashie...”

“But they’ve all been worried sick about you, too, and there’s a way to help you, they’ll want to be in on it.”

“B-b-b-but… what ab-about… Dashie?”

To Twilight’s shock, Spike interjected. “She’ll probably find it kinda hard to take, but Dash will still come around and help you sort your mess out. And if you still feel the same way afterwards, well, I don’t know. I suppose that’s up for you to decide.”

“Wait, were you snooping in?” Twilight interrogated.

“What? No!” Spike put up his hands in defense. “I just happened to hear the whole conversation while I was making your guys’ tea… and getting the tissues. Hey, if it weren’t for the rain, I wouldn’t be surprised if the neighbors heard that last part. Pinkie was screaming pretty loud.”

Twilight rolled her eyes and let out an exasperated groan. Pinkie was staring at Spike, fearful of a rebuke.

“But hey, it’s not like I’ve run off screaming in terror, or demand Pinkie leave, or wanted to stop being friends…” he added.

Twilight’s expression softened, and she looked back to Pinkie. “You see? If Spike hasn’t repudiated you, then the rest of our friends certainly won’t either.”

Pinkie was still plagued with slight tremors. “B-b-but...”

“Pinkie,” Twilight put a hoof underneath Pinkie’s chin and looked straight into her eyes. “Who can you trust if you can’t put your faith in your friends?”

Pinkie looked backed, deeply scouring Twilight’s comforting eyes, still trepidatious of the possibility for betrayal. All she found was the heartfelt trust of friendship. She buried her face back into Twilight, and quietly let loose another wave of tears.

“I’ll get a hold of them tomorrow, so we can finally start helping you. They’ll want to know what the problem has been, so you should tell them. You have to divulge the more explicit details if you don’t want to. But if you want to share everything, I promise I’ll hold your hoof and stand next to you for support. Okay?”

Pinkie sniffed, then whispered, “Okay...” She sniffled again, and blew her nose into some more tissues.

“Twilight,” Pinkie’s delicate voice shivered, “m-may I s-spend th-the night h-here, with you? The C-Cakes are all out of town for the next fews days, so nopony is a-at S-Sugarcube Corner, and… and I-I-I don’t want to be alone...”

Twilight smiled. “Of course. I’ll even stay with you, so I’ll be right there for you if you have another nightmare.”

Pinkie’s hug around Twilight grew tighter.

“Spike?” Twilight looked up at the dragon, and her smile dissipated a little. Spike was staring off into the distance again, eyes slightly unfocused and his countenance somewhat pensive.

“Spike!”

Spike shook his head. “Whoa, what?”

“You were spacing out again,” Twilight huffed, rolling her eyes. “Never mind. Pinkie is going to be staying for at least tonight with us, maybe a few more. Is the other room clean?”

“Yeah, I—wait,” Spike’s reptilian pupils narrowed, darting back and forth between the unicorn and the door that her would-be murderer had last exited through. “The... other, other room?”

“Yes… is something wrong?”

“No, not at all!” Spike blinked a few times in rapid succession. “Um, tell ya what; lemme just double-check it… you know… to make sure it’s extra clean for Pinkie… right?”

Spike walked towards the door with tremulous steps. He put his hand on the doorknob, not daring to knock, knowing that Twilight would call him on the suspicious behavior. He just stared at it for a prolonged moment, like it was the edge of the high diving board of a pool that was filled with sharks. Realizing Twilight might call him on his hesitation, he took a deep breath, slowly opened the door, and peered inside.

The whole room was dark and unoccupied, save for the sound of the rain still falling on the tree. He allowed himself a little sigh of relief, only for a new fear to seize him.

So if... he… isn’t in here, where is he? His worrisome grip on the doorknob tightened. Figure that out later. Twilight is going to start asking questions if you stay here longer. Alright, just put on a brave face…

“Yep, it’s safe… I mean fine! Yeah... fine. It’s fine.”

“Okay, thank you.” Twilight peered at him, quizzically. “Is everything okay, Spike?”

Fortunately for Spike, he had to let out a wide yawn at that exact moment. “No; I’m tired, and I’ve got to get my rest, right?” he said, pointing to the bandages wrapped around his right eye.

“Okay.” Twilight replied. “Want me to tuck you in?”

Spike thought about it for a moment. He wanted to say “yes,” but his heart suddenly felt heavier than it should have, and he couldn’t bring himself to accept. “No, I’ll be fine.”

“If you say so,” Twilight acknowledged, and levitated the tea platter back over to herself and Pinkie. She poured a little into the cups and took a sip from one. “Thank you for everything you’ve done tonight. You’ve been a big help.”

“Sure, whatever,” Spike responded, dryly. “What would you do without me?”

Twilight put on a sly little smile. “Probably cry a lot, because I’d be missing the best dragon that I’ve ever had for a friend.”

The briefest sign of amusement fluttered across his expression, but then it decayed just as quickly as it came. “I’m the only dragon that you’ve ever had for a friend.”

“And that’s why you’re the best.” Twilight quipped.

A slight smile pulled at the corner of his mouth, but it was swept off to nowhere a split-second later, like a chalk mural doomed to the mercy of the pouring rain outside.

”’Kay, I’m tired,” he said as he turned away and began walking up the stairs. “‘Night, Twi.” He thought to add “I love you,” but his throat suddenly felt too dry and knotted to say it, so he didn’t.

“Good night, Spike.” Twilight watched him go, and felt compelled to say something else. Despite the tea she had just drunk, her throat felt dry, and she had to force out a reply. “I love you.”

Spike stopped on the stairs, already halfway through ascending them. He turned his head in Twilight’s direction, but did not look completely back. “Love ya too,” he muttered, distant.

And the he resumed climbing the staircase, disappearing into the shadows.

With Spike gone, Twilight looked back down to Pinkie. She would have given some thought to how she would break the news to her friends, but her ‘wings’ were still on fire. She exhaled heavily, and closed her eyes, trying to ease her bustling mind into a more relaxed state.

She imagined herself, sitting near the front door with Pinkie still in a shared embrace, with a pair of wings affixed to her. She imagined draping them over Pinkie: of wrapping Pinkie up with a wing-hug and warming her depressed friend with her blanket of feathers.

Okay, she thought to herself, I have wings… I have wings…


- - - - - -


Spike watched the scene in silence from atop the stairs. It was dark, so Twilight couldn’t see him. But even if she could have, she’d closed her eyes as she held Pinkie, who was still fervently attached to Twilight, occasionally letting out little sobs.

His countenance hardened as he glared at the two. Of course she gets to open up with all of her problems and get Twilight to help her…

Even amidst his resent, his eyebrows arched upward in sadness, and he found himself thinking back to the morning four days ago, with a stone in his throat.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you, Twilight,” he had said as he looked up at her with tears still in his eyes, gripping her desperately, like she might die again if he let her go.

She had just smiled and looked down into his eyes. “Nor would I.”

It felt so far away now that it might as well be some old picture in an ancient photo album. It was so far away that he couldn’t hope to reach it, even with Twilight clearly still in front of him.

But she wasn’t far away; not really. All he had to do was speak, and she would hear him. All he had to say was, “Twilight, I have a problem… may I talk to you about it?” And she would smile, say “Of course,” pull him into a tight hug, and listen as Spike opened up his troubled heart and told her everything.

And then just like that, she would be dead.

Spike was gripping the railing so tightly that his claws were starting to dig into the wood. He barely held back a choked sob of his own, fearful that Twilight would hear him. Because if she did, she would ask him what was wrong, and he didn’t know if he’d be able to hold back. So he just turned around, dragged his feet across the floor as he carried his heavy heart back to the bedroom, and shut the door behind him.

He trudged forward towards his bed, stopping halfway, unable to continue. He stood there for a moment, listening to the rain pounding down on the tree in sheets as he drank up the loneliness, feeling dead inside. He looked to the rug on the floor, searching for his marble, hoping to have at least that to keep him company. It was nowhere to be found.

“Well, isn’t that just sad?” an animated, sarcastic voice cut through the darkness.

Spike seized up immediately, and the tip of his tail twitched with wrath. Everything that he’d been feeling vanished to be replaced by a quickly-building fire of rage. He turned in the direction that the most hated voice came from.

A flash of lightning illuminated the smirking Avarice from his hiding spot in shadows, next to the desk by the door. 

“Go away...” Spike’s voice was quiet, but none the less indignant.

“‘Tis an unbearable tragedy, yes?” Avarice said without an ounce of regard. The tone of smarmy derisiveness in his voice was nauseating. “Your friend is going insane.”

“Pinkie is not insane. She’s just random, and right now she’s upset, and in need of a friend. Go away; I don’t want to talk to you.”

Avarice cocked an eyebrow in contrived confusion. “Pinkie? Oh… I guess she’s going out of her mind, too.” He chuckled darkly. “Why do you still show those fools any sympathy?”

“Because they’re my friends,” Spike shot back. “Now go away.”

Avarice just held his smirk as he picked up Spike’s favorite marble from the desk. He began to twiddle it in his claws as he stepped forward, circling around Spike.

“Tell me, when Pinkie finally breaks, do you think she’ll be the silent, broken-spirited type?”

“Be quiet, Avarice.”

“Or do you think she’ll be the screaming, stark-raving mad kind?”

“Shut up.”

“Yeah; I think hysterical dementia is more her style.” Avarice was behind Spike now, who remained rooted in place, quaking with animosity. Avarice got lower to the ground, speaking directly to Spike. “Her exponential decay will eventually lead to self-induced insanity. Then, one day, long after she’s been introduced to her own comfy and spacious padded room and been issued her own stylish straight jacket, she’ll reach a breaking point when she’s realized just how far she’s fallen and finally lose it. Then as the doctors rush to her with belts and sedatives, one jumpy nurse still wet behind the ears from med school will draw too many CC’s of sedative and accidentally grab an overdose of potassium pills.”

“Shut up...”

“Once they shoot her up and the tablets of happiness are eased down her throat in a forced swallow,” Avarice let out a wicked chuckle, leaning in closer to Spike, “her life will end painfully when her heart pops like her party cannon.”

“I SAID SHUT UP!” Spike whipped around and roared in Avarice’s face. His claws had balled up into fists and every fiber in him shook with fury.

Avarice’s smug expression boiled away to a hostile leer. A deep hiss like an agitated crocodile’s rumbled up through his throat. “Do you really think you can take me, boy?” Avarice growled, and snorted several cherry-red embers into Spike’s face.

Spike blinked a few times as the cinders made contact with his enraged visage, but he held his ground, burning with an anger more intense than he’d ever felt before. “I don’t care,” he snarled through bared teeth. “Get. Lost.”

Avarice’s glower intensified as his eyes narrowed. The two glared at each other in a nerve-wracking standoff. A pin drop could have been heard if not for the rain.

“Okay,” Avarice spoke, suddenly and completely nonchalant.

It took Spike a moment to realize that Avarice had broken eye contact, performed an about-face, and had started crossing the bedroom to make his way for the window.

“Want me to get anything for you while I’m out? Or better yet, want to come along?” Avarice asked as he fished a little pouch out of Twilight’s bedside table, placed Spike’s marble inside, and tied the cords around one of his claws. “I’m sure we can find something that catches your fancy. A few sapphire cupcakes, perhaps? I am quite familiar with how fond you are of those.”

“Hey, wait! Hold up!” Spike called out and ran up behind Avarice just as the thief of Ponyville opened the window, inviting in the crash of the tumultuous pouring rain. “Where are you going?”

Avarice paused halfway out the window. He looked back to Spike, wearing a sly expression that gradually morphed into a wicked, devious grin.

“Sugarcube Corner.”

A bolt of lightning crashed down from the dark, uproarious sky, briefly illuminating the silhouette of the thieving demon and casting his shadow over the little dragon. The corresponding boom of the thunder shook the whole treehouse, and in that moment, Avarice whipped around and pounced through the open window into the black and stormy night.

Spike remained fixated on the window for a few moments, staring in disbelief. After some while, he slugged over to window to shut it. He turned around, and at that moment he slumped against the wall as his trembling legs gave out from underneath him. Spike slid down the wall onto the floor, and let out a pained, distressed sigh.


- - - - - -


The morning sun of the next day shone unobscured through the cloudless, sapphire sky, shining down on an outdoor, circular table surrounded by unlit lamps at one of the local diners. Here sat five mares, conversing with each other as they made their way through their meals.

“Woo whee, thanks for taking us out to brunch, Twilight.” Applejack said as she finished gulping down the last few bits of her apple fritter. She picked up the empty plate, turned around, and hailed a passing waiter. “Hey, waiter! Couldja bring s’more apple fritters, please?”

The surprised server’s eyes shot wide open. “More?”
 
“I didn’t stutter, sugarcube. I’m a hungry mare!” Applejack proclaimed.

“Well… okay… certainly, then. I’ll be right back,” he replied, and scurried off.

Applejack smiled, then, much to Rarity’s dismay, licked the last of the crumbs off the plate.

“These fritters, I like them… ANOTHER!” Applejack hollered, thoroughly amused with herself, and slammed the plate back down on the table. Rainbow Dash began to snicker and Rarity let out an exasperated groan.

“Yeah, thanks Twi!” Dash said playfully. “Any meal is totally worth it just to see Rarity get her panties in a knot.”

“Ugh, you two are insufferable…” Rarity grumbled as she rolled her eyes at the chuckling mares sitting across from her. ”Regardless, I must also offer my thanks for arranging this meeting, Twilight. The selection of teas here is absolutely divine!”

“Oh, yes, thank you very much, Twilight,” Fluttershy said. 

Twilight smiled at them all, and inexplicably felt a lump form in her throat as her eyes began to moisten. Just the simple circumstance of gathering her friends together again had overwhelmed her with contentment, and she had to clear her throat to speak.

“You’re all very welcome. Rarity was right; I have been a bit too much of a stranger recently, so I thought it best to set my studies aside for a moment and spend some time with what really matters: all of you.” She beamed at them at, then raised her glass. “To friendship.”

“To friendship!” They echoed, raising their drinks in kind and clinking them together. The sound of the glasses coming together produced an upbeat note, perfectly leading into each taking a sip of their beverage. 

Fluttershy put her glass of carrot juice back down on the table, then let out a sad little sigh. “I just wish Pinkie could have been here, too.”

“Yeah, she seems… distressed all the time,” Applejack said with concern. “I tried talking to her a few days ago, and she wouldn’t even say nothing, let alone come outta her room. And based off what the rest o’ you girls have told me, she ain’t been up for nothing but locking herself away nowadays, or... whatever else it is that Pinkie usually does aside from party.”   

“It’s like she got the partying kicked out of her…” Dash added, worrisome.

“Yes, we’ve all been noticing drastic changes in Pinkie Pie,” Twilight commented. “But that’s the real reason I arranged this get together. Last night, I found out why she’s been acting this way...”

“Really?!” All four friends gasped in unison. 

“How do you reckon?” Applejack asked.

“The reason Pinkie has been acting differently is because my recent work ran her into a bit of a snag… Tell me, has anypony heard of Dominus Cob?”

Blank looks surrounded the rest of the table. Each pony looked at the other to see if the name rung a familiar bell, but found no common ground save for confusion.

“No,” Dash curtly put forward, her wings flaring outward. “Did this Dominic guy do something to Pinkie?! I swear, if he—”

“No, Rainbow Dash, he didn’t… and it’s Dominus.” Twilight interrupted. “Mr. Cob was once an esteemed architect, but that changed somewhat when he became more involved with the studies of magic after he met his wife, Mal. He even taught at Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns for a little while. Or at least he used to. Shortly before Mal suddenly passed away and Dom disappeared without a trace, Mr. Cob had been working on a spell called “Dreamscape” that would allow ponies to enter into dreams. Several months ago, I came into possession of Cob’s notes that contained an incomplete version, and just recently I managed to complete it.

“So for the last… week...” Twilight said with a slight grimace; she had almost said “month.” “I’ve been experimenting with the use of Dreamscape; sedating myself, learning about rules for how the dream operates, and how far those rules can be stretched.”

“Alright, I remember ya tellin’ me this a while ago,  but what does this all have ta do with Pinkie?” Applejack inquired.

“One day, Pinkie convinced me to take her into a dream. So when we went into Pinkie’s mind, I showed her how to manipulate and change the dream world though the mind’s connection to the dream. But she went so overboard with it that she tore open a hole to... something… something sinister buried deep within her subconscious, and ever since that day, she’s been having terrible nightmares that have been causing her unspeakable amounts of emotional trauma.” 

Dash incredulously scoffed at Twilight. “This is completely insane! You get all of us together and tell us that you had to show us something, and then you start talking about some stuffy unicorn dude who made some dream spell, and this has to do with why one of my best friends has turned into some depressed shut-in? Do you really expect me to believe that? Joke’s over, Twilight! What’s seriously wrong with Pinkie?”

Twilight had recoiled in her seat from the outburst, but she regained her composure and looked back at Rainbow with a knowing expression. “Well Dash, I can answer that question, but first... let me ask you a question...”

“Ugh… what?” Dash spat. 

“Tell me, you never really remember the beginning of a dream, do you? You always seem to wind up in the middle of what’s going on, right?”

“I guess, yeah,” Rainbow huffed. “What’s your point?”

Twilight’s look became a little more clever. “So how did we get here?”

“What do you mean?” Dash raised an eyebrow, her expression becoming quizzical.

“That’s all I want to know; how did we get here?”

Dash puffed out her feathers. “Well, we came from your place obviously, then… uh...” 

Twilight learned closer to Rainbow. “Think about it really hard Rainbow, how did we get here? At what point after I invited all of you over to my place did we leave, walk over to this café, sit down, order drinks, and give Applejack enough time to devour an entire plate of apple fritters? Or did we just show up to find all of that had already happened?”
 
Rainbow Dash looked like she’d been hit in the face with a book. Rarity and Fluttershy all had confused and dumbfounded expressions as they looked at the empty plate in front of Applejack, who was whipping her head in every which direction, then looked back to Twilight, appearing utterly confounded.

“We’re… dreaming?”

The four unsuspecting mares looked back up at Twilight for confirmation of Applejack’s query. The unicorn had adopted a sly smirk at their bewildered expressions as a tremor ran through the ground.

“We actually never left the library. We are in fact lying on the ground together in my den, sound asleep, and under the effects of Dreamscape.” 

Another more violent tremor ripped across the landscape, shaking the entire world with it.

“What’s happening?!” Rarity exclaimed as she jumped up in her seat. 

Twilight looked around, thinking quickly. “These dream worlds are only as stable as the subconscious of the mind hosting it, so perhaps an unconditioned mind can be so daunted by the reveal of the truth that the dream could collapse.”

“The dream collapses?! What does that even mean?” Rarity came back in, growing more panicked. “Wait, I thought you’d been working on this for months and using it for a week! How could you not be attuned to maintaining a dream by now?”

Twilight looked Rarity squarely in the eye. “Who said anything about being in my dream? Because we’re not… we’re in her’s.” She pointed a hoof right across the table to Fluttershy.

They all shifted their attention and focus on the fragile pegasus. Fluttershy began to make nervous squeaks and whimpers as she began to curl into a ball.

Twilight looked intently at the trembling pony. “Fluttershy, we need you to remain calm...”

Fluttershy just started to shake even more. Her chest began to heave and more of her face descended below the surface of the table as all eyes were directed to her. “Nervous… under pressure… I don’t deal well with pressure when I’m nervous! Or under pressure!”

“Whoa, easy girl!” Applejack remarked, putting a hoof on Fluttershy’s shoulder. “It’s jus’ a dream, and you got your friends here with ya, so don’t you worry about nothin’!”

“Remember what we talked about when you get frightened, darling!” Rarity bolstered, reaching out for Fluttershy in kind. “Just close your eyes, take long, deep breaths, and try to calm yourself! Fret not, for your friends are with you!”

Fluttershy clenched her eyes shut tight, pulled her forelegs around herself, and started sucking in deep breaths of air. A few tense moments passed, but then the clatter of the glasses upon the table subsided as the tremors stopped, leaving behind nothing but confused looks and slight aftershocks.

Rarity adopted a nervous smile. “Feel better, dear?”

Fluttershy cracked open her eyes as she looked in Rarity’s direction, easing up. “A… a little. Thank y—” Fluttershy’s eyes flickered to behind Twilight. “AAAAAAH!”

At Fluttershy’s terrified scream, the windows of the café exploded outwards, taking chunks of the wall and several unlucky ponies standing too close to the blast along with them. The fruits in nearby vendor stands began to explode. Then the vendor carts exploded, followed by pieces of the street, and then entire buildings detonated, filling the air with shrapnel unbound by the laws of gravity.

The whole scene played before Twilight in uncanny slow motion. Fluttershy had buried her head behind her forelegs while Applejack had instinctively grabbed her Stetson to use as a shield for her face. Rainbow had partially taken off in fear while Rarity screamed in terror at something behind Twilight.

Just then, Twilight was overcome with the uneasy feeling of somepony standing behind her. Acting upon impulse, just before the dream completely destroyed itself, Twilight turned around to look behind her. She recoiled in her chair, doing a double-take at the sight of the mysterious stranger.

“What are you doing here?!” Twilight hollered.

The thing-pony just shrugged.


- - - - - -


Twilight woke up just in time to hear the clamor of her friends as they all bolted upright and began shouting.

“Sweet Celestia, that was a dream?! But It felt so real!”

“Everything just exploded! Exploded!”

“WHAT WAS THAT... THING?!”

“I coulda’ sworn them fritters were real! And now I’m still hungry, dang it!”

“HEY!” Twilight yelled over the din, instantly grabbing everyone’s attention and bringing a blessed quiet to the library. She was already on the verge of another headache and really didn’t want something else to have to deal with right now.

“Yes, that was all a dream,” Twilight continued, “and yes, we did just wake up, and yes, everything did explode when the dream collapsed.”

“B-but Twilight, what was… oh my… what was that thing?” Fluttershy asked, still visibly shaken.

“The thing-pony? I wouldn’t really worry about him. He might be creepy looking, but near as I can tell, he’s harmless… bizarre, but harmless. Nothing more that a unique projection.”

“A unique what?” Rarity asked.

“Wait, what the hay is a thing-pony?” Applejack interjected.

“Y-you mean… you didn’t see that thing?” Fluttershy timidly asked.

“No, we didn’t,” Dash grumbled. “AJ and I were a bit busy trying to keep glass shards the size of daggers out of our faces!”

“Seriously, what the hay is a thing-pony?!”

“Let me explain!” Twilight blurted, gaining control of the conversation again. “Alright, you know how there were other ponies in the dream with us, like that waiter Applejack spoke to? Well, those are called ‘projections;’ entities generated by one or more minds in the dream. Fluttershy’s subconscious knew that there were supposed to be other ponies at that cafe, so it automatically put them there. However, sometimes a unique projection can be generated by something specific in the subconscious, ergo the thing-pony. And my subconscious just so happened to bring it into the dream… again.”

“‘Again?’ You mean to say that you’ve seen that ghastly thing more than once?” Rarity asked.

“Yeah,” Twilight admitted. “This would be the third time that he’s showed up.”

“Twilight, dear, forgive me if I seem a touch abrasive, but if that thing was created by your subconscious, then what on earth has gone wrong with you? What in your mind could possibly conceive of something so horrifying and inexplicable?”

Twilight sighed. “I have no idea...”

Twilight was spared having to extrapolate further by the sudden, harsh ringing of an alarm clock from behind them. All of them whipped around to see Pinkie Pie sitting behind them with a mortified expression, next to said clock and a bucket of water. The alarm cut off to leave a ringing silence.

“I did something wrong didn’t I, Twilight?” she said. “You woke up before I was supposed to wake you up…”

“PINKIE!” All of her friends exclaimed at once, save for Twilight, and in an instant Pinkie Pie was surrounded. As Twilight witnessed this, she saw to her horror that Rainbow Dash had trapped Pinkie in a crushing bear hug. None of them seemed to notice that Pinkie had frozen up completely in Rainbow’s embrace. Her expression was that of somepony who had been shaved down to their bare skin and dropped in the middle of a large crowd. Twilight decided to do something before the color drained completely from Pinkie’s face.

The rest of her friends gave a simultaneous yelp of surprise as Pinkie Pie was teleported out from their midst to behind Twilight.

“Girls, please! She needs some space!” Twilight shouted before they could swarm the poor pony again, then turned around to face Pinkie. “Don’t worry, it wasn’t your fault. Fluttershy panicked and made the dream collapse when she saw the thing-pony, so you had nothing to do with it.”

“For the love of Celestia, what the hay is the thing-pony?!” Applejack blurted.

Twilight hoped that Pinkie would be somewhat comforted by the news, but all Pinkie did was give a belated, “Oh… okay…”

The other four mares were crowded behind Twilight now, concern etched over their faces. 
She turned to face them. “The spell is sustained by a magical electrostatic field around the head of everypony in the dream. I found out by accident that if it comes into contact with water, it disrupts the field and instantly wakes up the dreamer. I asked Pinkie to wake us up that way. Figured throwing a bucket of water in somepony’s face might help lift her spirits a little…”

Twilight turned back to Pinkie, who was now curled up into a ball, head buried between her forelegs. Occasionally she would peep out to see that her friends were still staring at her, and quickly withdraw.

Trying to keep Pinkie stable, she went to her side. “Come on, it’s okay,” she said as gently as she could. Slowly, but surely, she managed to coax her out of her fetal position into sitting up, and looked her in the eye. “Do you remember what we talked about last night? About having to tell them what you’ve been through? I think now is that time.”

Pinkie’s face went from nervous and fidgety to outright fear. “What? Oh… um… I don’t know… I already told you, maybe you could tell them…” she stammered. 

Twilight gave a gentle shake of the head. Pinkie’s reaction wasn’t very enheartening. She looked like she’d just been asked to step on up to the gallows.

“Pinkie, please,” Twilight pleaded, reaching out and holding Pinkie’s hoof with her own. “We’re your friends. You can trust us.”

“We came here to help you, darling,” Rarity said. “You can tell us.”

“Ya can’t hold in what’s makin’ ya sick, sugarcube,” said Applejack. “If ya gotta spit it out, we’ll be here to hear it.”

“C’mon Pinkie!” added Rainbow Dash. “Don’t give up on us now!”

Fluttershy slowly and carefully made her way around Twilight next to Pinkie Pie. With all the gentleness and care she would normally reserve for a sick baby mouse, she put a reassuring hoof on Pinkie’s shoulder.

Pinkie looked morosely at the floor for a long while, then to Twilight’s relief, gave a slight nod. The rest of her friends crowded in, but were careful to give Pinkie some breathing room. After a heavy pause, Pinkie drew in a shuddering breath, and began to speak.


- - - - - -


One hour later, a stunned silence permeated the library, broken only by Pinkie Pie’s subdued weeping. She had held nothing back, from the initial fight with Discord to the final dream about sadistically murdering Rainbow Dash, but it had taken a lot of gentle coaxing on Twilight’s behalf. The parts involving Rainbow Dash had been especially hard to get out, Pinkie’s bedroom incident the most of all. The first time Twilight had heard it, she had been shocked. Now, hearing it the second time around, and seeing the abject misery that Pinkie was going through, it was heartbreaking.

She understood what her other friends must be feeling. Applejack, Fluttershy, and Rarity all had varying degrees and mixtures of shock and disbelief. Rainbow Dash, however…

Dash was stone-faced and completely unreadable. She just sat there, staring at Pinkie. Twilight couldn’t tell what she was thinking, and it was starting to scare her. Pinkie must have sensed this, because just as her sniffles began to subside she looked up to see Dash, and a fresh wave of tears brimmed in her eyes.

“D-Dashie… I couldn’t… I-I didn’t…”

Wordlessly, Dash stood up, her eyes fixed on Pinkie. Everyone in the room was staring at Dash now, breathlessly waiting to for her to do something. Twilight felt like she had swallowed a lead weight. She glanced over to Pinkie, who had never looked so pitiful as she did now: mane limp and lifeless, coat tinged ash grey, body quaking with emotion, eyes steadily flowing over with tears and unable to look away from Dash’s gaze.

“Dashie… p-please…” Pinkie pleaded.

Rainbow Dash didn’t say anything, she just turned around and began slowly walking to the door. Twilight could almost hear Pinkie’s spirit break.

“N-no… Dashie… DASHIE PLEASE!” Pinkie screamed.

Dash stopped in her tracks, and turned her head back slightly towards them. Twilight had never seen the expression that she was seeing on Dash now. She didn’t look angry, or disgusted; she looked… solemn.

“I need… time...” Dash said in a hoarse voice. Then she continued walking, opened the front door, and went outside. Instead of flying away though, she sat down on the front steps, and stared off at the horizon, leaving Pinkie Pie stricken: unable to decipher whether or not the worst had happened.

Twilight quickly turned to Rarity, Applejack, and Fluttershy. “Could you keep Pinkie company? I think I need to be with Dash right now.” As she turned back, she could hear Rarity gently trying to calm Pinkie.

“Come on, dear, you need some rest now… and probably some tea…”

Twilight was careful not to get too close to Dash as she came outside. She was also careful not to stare, as she knew Dash would sense it. What she did do was sit down with Dash on the other side of the steps, and simply stared off at the horizon with her.

A minute passed in silence. Then two. Then five. Then ten. Still, they sat and stared. Twilight was ready to give it hours if need be, but she hoped that Dash would do something soon. She knew the value of patience, but Pinkie Pie was probably dying of anxiety right now.

Eventually her waiting was rewarded when she finally dared look at Rainbow Dash, and found that Dash was already looking at her. Dash sheepishly looked away, but knew she had been caught. Twilight patiently waited as Dash began to flounder for words, but couldn’t find something to say.

After a long minute, she managed a bitter whisper. “I know it wasn’t entirely her fault.” Another pause. “It’s just…”

“I know,” Twilight said somberly. “It’s a lot to take in.”

“It’s a bit more that just a lot!” Rainbow Dash snapped suddenly, causing Twilight to flinch. “My best friend just confessed to baling her own hay while thinking of me, and it’s all because she’s being driven insane by a Dreamspell-scape-thingy that you created! I don’t even know how I’m supposed to feel right now!”

An awkward silence put a period on Dash’s outburst. After a long pause, Dash continued again. “You know what I really think? None of this is Pinkie’s fault. But it is somepony’s fault.”

Twilight felt a flash of indignation and anger, and was about to rebuke Dash with a stinging retort, but she suppressed it as she pondered Dash’s words. The more she thought about it, the more she realized Dash was right. It was her fault. True, Pinkie Pie had taken advantage of her when her better judgement had been impaired by a chocolate cupcake cake high, but before that she had made a Pinkie Promise when she knew she didn’t know everything about the spell yet. She could have just as easily told Pinkie “no,” but instead she had given in to her peer pressure, and Pinkie had paid the price.

“You’re right,” she said bitterly. “This is my fault. I took her into a dream before I had any idea just how dangerous they can be.” She took a deep breath before continuing. “But I can’t fix this by myself. I need your help. I need everypony’s help.”

“Do you have a plan?” Dash asked.

“Yes. But I need to know if everypony is going to be on board with this,” Twilight replied. “So are you with me?”

Dash was slow to respond, but she was obviously moved by Twilight’s sincerity. In fact, in a manner very unlike her, for a split second Dash looked like she might cry. “I just want my friend back,” she said in a thick voice.

“Me too, Dash. Me too,” said Twilight as they both got up and began to walk back into the library. She felt a little bit of relief, and awe at the strength of Rainbow Dash’s loyalty, but she also felt a lot of remorse.

Sometimes I wish that I’d just left those notes in Canterlot, she thought to herself. This spell has caused nothing but heartache.

Twilight and Rainbow Dash walked back through the library and into the kitchen, where they found the others sitting around the table, consoling Pinkie as she sipped from a cup of tea. A frosty silence descended as they sat down, all eyes save for Pinkie’s turning to Dash. Pinkie herself had a broad range of emotions playing across her face. She may have been relieved that Dash hadn’t left yet, but she was clearly afraid that Dash had only done so to yell and scream at her.

“Pinkie?” Dash broke the silence as tenderly as she could. Pinkie still flinched a little in response. After a brief pause, Dash continued. “What you did… was really messed up. I never thought in a million years I’d ever hear somepony admit to me of doing... that… or that it would be you.” 

A pregnant pause followed as a fresh wave of tears brimmed in Pinkie’s eyes.

“But I also know this isn’t entirely your fault. And honestly, if I was in your position…” Dash’s voice thickened again. “I don’t think I could have handled it any better. I know I wouldn’t have been able to do any better. I would have done the exact same thing.” Her voice cracked a little. “I probably would have done worse. If it had been me in the bedroom, and you on the other side of the door…”

Dash broke off, unable to continue. None spoke or moved for fear of upsetting the exchange between the two. Pinkie’s eyes shone wide with an agonized blend of hope and sorrow. Finally, Dash reached a hoof across the table towards Pinkie.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever really come to grips with what happened, but you’re still my friend. So you can bet your party cannon that I’m going to stay and do everything I can to help you.” Now it was Dash’s turn to brim over with tears. “I don’t leave my friends twisting in the wind.”

Pinkie Pie flung herself across the table and around Rainbow Dash’s neck, sobbing uncontrollably. Dash returned the hug, shedding tears as everypony else around the table gave a collective, quiet sigh of relief and tried not to cry themselves.

After several minutes passed, when Pinkie Pie had finally stopped crying and emotions around the table had settled down, Applejack was the first to speak.

“Alright, this here has been touching, but… well, I think I speak for the rest of us when I say this all has been a bit much to deal with for one day.” Applejack looked around the table at the several nods that agreed with her.

“Do you need some time to let it sink in?” Twilight asked.

“That’d be nice, but...” Applejack looked off to some distance, concerned and perplexed. “This is some real confoundin’ stuff you’re laying on us, Twi. A spell that makes dreams that ya’ can’t tell from real life? Wait...” She looked intently at Twilight. “How are we supposta’ even know if we’re actually awake or in another dream right now?”

Twilight couldn’t help but let out an impressed chuckle. “Wow, you picked up on that pretty quick.”

Applejack’s eyes went wide in alarm. “Are we?!”

“No, we’re awake,” Twilight interrupted. “But you’re right to note that it can be hard to tell whether or not you’re in a dream when both feel like reality.”

“I’m pretty sure we can tell the difference, egghead.” Dash scoffed a little.

Twilight looked at Dash with a clever little smirk again. “You’d think, but then you didn’t realize we were asleep in that dream an hour ago, did you?”

Dash raised a hoof to argue, but caught herself before any words came out of her open mouth. She help the pose for a second before admitting defeat. “Okay, you’ve got a point.”

Twilight looked back to the other mares at the table. “We’re going to be going back and forth between consciousness and sleep for the next few days while I help you practice getting used to the dream world, so it could get pretty confusing. I don’t know exactly what we’ll find in Pinkie’s dream, though I’d probably hazard a guess that the projection of Discord is probably going to show up.”

A collective shudder ran around the table.

“I know,” Twilight continued, “I was hoping to never have to see him again either, but at least it’s not the real Discord. But before I can share the intimate details of the plan, there’s something that I need you to do first. Foremost, I need you to come up with a totem.”

Twilight’s expression faltered. Her sides suddenly began to ache again, and an unsettling feeling had just manifested in her gut, like she’d swallowed a pebble.

“A what?” Rarity asked.

“It’s an object that will allow you to keep track of reality. In the real world, it will do one thing, but in the dream world, it will do another.” Twilight answered.

“Like a bit that only lands on heads?” Rainbow inquired.

“Something like that, but it needs to be a personal item; preferably something small that you can easily carry around.” Twilight explained. “I can show you all how to use dream manipulation that will train your subconscious so it makes the totem do something specific that’s different from what it would do in reality. That way, there’s no confusion about whether you’re awake or asleep.

“It’s imperative that you find an object unique to you and think of it’s tell when you get back home. Don’t forget to bring it over tomorrow, either. And most importantly, don’t let anypony know what its dream-specific trait is supposed to be.”

“Why not?” Fluttershy wondered.

Twilight squirmed a little. Her sense of something ominous was increasing, turning her stomach to a bag of worms. “To prevent any outside influence that might potentially tamper with your totem.”

Twilight tried to keep her face straight, but a sudden wave of uneasiness was bearing down on her, like the tide besieging a sand castle. Then it hit her: she hadn’t checked her totem since their previous dream.

“I’ll give you all a moment to let all this sink in,” she said. “I just need to… go check on Spike. Excuse me...”

Getting up from the table and heading out the kitchen door, Twilight had to greatly resist the urge to gallop all the way to the bathroom. When she finally made it inside and shut the door, she couldn’t get her gyroscope out of its pouch fast enough. Feverishly she set it in motion, then watched, breathlessly, as it continued to spin.

And spin.

And spin.

How long had it been now? Forty seconds? Fifty seconds? A minute? Her heartbeat started to increase as she tried not to panic, but still the little gyroscope spun. Just when she was really starting to get worried, it finally, blessedly, began to wobble, then eventually fell over with a reassuring chink.

Twilight let out a pent-up sigh of relief, but even as she did, not all her uneasiness left her. Something still bothered her, like a splinter in her mind. Was it something about the dream itself? She had the sudden sense that there was some detail she had overlooked, something important…

It hit her. She hadn’t recognized it due to the different time of day, but the cafe she and her friends were just eating at before it exploded was the same cafe she had seen in her waking night visions in limbo.

All she could do was let the slight chill down her spine run its course.


- - - - - -


Spike was standing up on the balcony of Twilight’s bedroom, taking part in an activity he far from enjoyed, yet nonetheless recently found himself engaged on a rather frequent basis: sulking.

He leaned forward against the railing, arms crossed and muzzle buried between them, with his displeased fingers drumming upon his triceps. The end of his tail swished through the air as his hard expression scowled at nothing in particular.

He had made up plenty of excuses to exclude himself from the session where Twilight and Pinkie were going to break the news about what was troubling the latter to the rest of their friends, from “I think it would be better if it was just you two told them since Pinkie hadn’t intended for me to hear that first time,” to “I’ve already heard it and don’t need to hear it again,” and “I’d rather not have to ask what “clopping” is.”

But Spike knew exactly what it was. He knew far more than that: he lived in a library with everything from anatomical diagrams to romance novels known as “saddle rippers.” Twilight had of course hidden anything even remotely raunchy from him, but he was still a growing and inquisitive boy dragon, and he’d still managed to find plenty of information from slightly more innocuous sources (mostly educational texts) and piece everything together pretty much on his own.

Though it wasn’t hearing about Pinkie “prancing her happy places” again that lead him to conclude that he’d rather not be there. Nor was it that Pinkie had been “trotting herself” to thoughts of Rainbow Dash. Or that he didn’t want to be there for her: that couldn’t have been further from the truth. It wasn’t even that he found some of her nightmares truly disturbing.

It was that he couldn’t bear the thought of standing there, witnessing Pinkie lay bare her darkest secrets and sins, and to have their friends still remain steadfast and pledging to assist Pinkie until they had resolved the problems she was suffering from... when he couldn’t even let them know that he had a problem.

He knew that with every vile secret Pinkie bled out before them, the tighter he’d have to hold onto his, like being forced to constrict his grip on a malicious sea urchin. He knew that every solution Twilight would propose would make him realize just how trapped he was by that ultimatum.

He knew that Pinkie’s friends would still stick by her side, even Rainbow Dash, no matter how long it would take her to come around, considering how hard he knew she would take learning such overwhelming information. They would all still be friends, they would all still help Pinkie, and just thinking about having to see that made him feel so alone that he couldn’t stand it.

So he secluded himself to the treetop balcony, leaning on the balustrade, where he could privately brood over how isolated he felt rather than have to heft a heavy mask over his face and pretend he was still just as close to everypony downstairs.

It’s not like they would refuse to help me, it’s just that they don’t know, some blearily optimistic thought process put forward.

And they can’t ever know. A counter thought immediately superceded.

Hey, it’s not that they can’t know, it’s that… he can’t know that they know.

And if you told them, how are you going to keep him from finding out? He claims to know you better than you do, and you don’t even know where he is half the time. He could be watching you right now!

Spike suddenly felt clammy, and began looking over his surroundings, checking to see if they lacked the only other dragon he’d met with amethyst scales, hoping that the jump in his heart rate was merely due to paranoia. He was still more or less alone, and in that moment, a memory from last night, of Twilight comforting Pinkie as he watched, rippled across his thoughts, and he heard her voice.

“If whatever is bothering you has been something that you’ve been too afraid to let anypony know, then I’d say that finally opening up and sharing it is a very brave thing to do.”

His heart suddenly felt like a stone. Even though it wasn’t directed his way, in retrospect, it felt like Twilight had been talking to him.

Maybe I just need to be brave, he thought. Maybe I just need to dragon-up and be strong... even if I only have the strength to admit that I’m too weak and helpless to fix this myself.

Spike exhaled. He looked all around him, into the bedroom to make sure nopony had come upstairs to check on him, stood on his tip-toes to peer over the balcony, and even scanned the skies above for good measure. He was still very much by himself.

He let out another heavy puff of air through his nostrils, and closed his eyes. With nothing to see, the sound of his heartbeat thudding in his ears became all the more apparent, as did the perspiration on his scales and nervous trembling. It was a thousand times worse than those fleeting feelings of stage fright that he had been enduring before taking the stage for the last Hearth’s Warming Eve pageant. But back then, if he incorrectly delivered one of his lines, the ponies that he knew and loved weren’t going to be condemned to death.

He formulated the sentence in his head, rehearsing it over and over again, trying to work up his courage. When he could think his way through it without stuttering, he tried saying them aloud. The words felt more like weights than they did air in his lungs. It was only with his eyes shut tight, a heave of mental exertion, and a blind, reckless charge did he manage to force out:

“Twilight… I need your help.”

His eyes clenched tighter shut and he tensed up, flinching like he was about to be hit in the face. A moment passed, and it was as placid as the moments before it, save for a gentle breeze that wafted past him.

It took him a moment for it to sink in that he wasn’t getting his face smashed into the nearest piece of furniture, and there were no sounds of his friends screaming from being burned to death. Feeling a little more confident, but not brave enough to open his eyes, he tried speaking again. But this time, he imagined Twilight standing before him, awaiting his words.

“Twilight...” Spike started off saying as much as he could dare, and the pretend-Twilight answered back in his head.

“Yes, Spike?”

Spike took a deep, quick breath, and let it out just as fast before he could muster the strength to say, even if it was just a lone rehearsal, what he knew he should have said a long time ago.

“I have a problem… may I talk to you about it?”

The Twilight he was envisioning gave with a warm smile. She opened her mouth, and an answer cut through the darkness of his closed eyes right next to his ear.

“No you can’t.”

Spike screamed out in terror and whipped around, leaping back through the air at a height that almost matched his own from his heart feeling like it was trying to launch out of his ribcage.

Avarice peered at Spike with a furrowed brow and cold, steely, calculating eyes, judging his every little move: the gaze of a predator evaluating its prey.

“Out on a balcony in the open air… are you trying to let one of these cud-chewers see you talking to yourself?” Avarice smirked. “Everypony’s going to think you’ve gone crazy.”

Spike’s heart was still hammering away in his chest, but the presence of Avarice began to harden his demeanor, as it always did. “Hey, Twilight talks to herself sometimes, too.”

“That’s because Twilight is crazy.”

Spike scowled, and crossed his arms as he turned away. “Why can’t you just—”

“Leave you alone?” Avarice interrupted. “Because you can’t be trusted. Seems like whenever I do leave you by yourself, you start thinking about worming your way out of our arrangement. Though secluding yourself to subvert temptation is a step in the right direction.

“Pity, really,” Avarice said as he turned his attention to his claws, flexing them, and admiring the power behind each stroke as the bladed ends cut through the air. “I was actually hoping I’d have an excuse to start my morning with a murder.”

The agitated expression Spike was wearing calcified at Avarice’s callous disregard, and he responded with the chill of a cold shoulder.

Avarice paid Spike’s contempt for his rhetoric no heed, and continued. “Though I do have to give you a little credit. Apparently you’re not as inept as all that time I spent trapped in your head taught me that you are, given that you managed to stumble upon a loophole in our deal.”

“What?” Spike whipped around to look back at Avarice with widened, inquisitive eyes, searching his counterpart for an answer. For a moment, he’d completely forgotten about Avarice’s wistful desires for an opportunity to brutally steal the lives of his friends. Had Avarice just openly admitted that there was a way out his coerced vow of secrecy?

“Indeed,” Avarice acknowledged with a nod, and began to circle around Spike. “See, the conditions which we agreed upon only stipulate that you are not to do anything that either directly or indirectly leads to any living being or sentient entity gleaning any information about my existence. Otherwise, you can be as open as you please; you can say everything you know, write down an entire confessional, you can even express the entire situation through interpretive dance for all I care... so long as no one ever witnesses it. And especially for that last one; even as overly-feminized as you’ve been raised to be, I’d rather not have to see you in a tutu.”

Avarice smirked with devilish wit at Spike. “So please, feel free to repeatedly to crush your own spirits by begging for help when none of your so-called friends are around to hear you.”

Just like that, whatever respite Spike had secretly been praying for soured instantaneously. He growled in exacerbated frustration, and jerked his body in a direction away from his enemy.

Avarice just chuckled at Spike’s despondence. “I’d have prefered a killing, but watching you squirm is a decent alternative. Now then, seeing as I’ve got you up here alone and I’ve got some time to kill while I wait, I think I’ll do now what I didn’t get to yesterday...”

Spike felt a lump form in his throat at the sudden insidious dip in Avarice’s tone. He got no time to dwell upon his own premonitions before Avarice’s tail had wrapped around his shoulder, yanked him around, then caught the underside of his chin with the spade and tilted his head up so that their eyes met. Avarice grinned at him with devious intent, partly unfurled one of his wings, withdrew a photocamera from the clenched folds of the membrane, and held it up for Spike to see.

“Ruin the tale of Hearth’s Warming Eve for you.”

Spike grumbled, swatted aside Avarice’s tail, and tried to stomp his way towards the balcony door, only for the same appendage to impede his path.

“It’s that, or go listen to Pinkie’s pathetic sobbing about her scandalous fling with her hoof,” Avarice said with level condescension.

Spike started to shake with indignation, and his claws curled with violent intentions. Avarice just smirked at the little dragon, then began to make obscene squelching noises with his tongue and a cheek.

“Dear Celestia, would you just SHUT UP?!” Spike yelled, performing an about-face.

“No,” Avarice leered. “The best you’ll get from me is a change of subject. So then, the tale of Hearth’s Warming Eve, or should I disrespectfully wonder aloud how Pinkie is going to ever get her own smell out of her hooves?”

Spike’s claws collided with his face and dug in, peeling his eyelids down as he began to sputter with rage. Avarice just chuckled again.

“Hearth’s Warming it is then. Now,” Avarice cleared his throat and jutted his chest out, giving a pompous air to his posture, and addressed the camera that he was holding out like a stage prop with the faux accent Spike used during the play. His voice was such an uncanny facsimile that it made Spike’s scales writhe.

“Once upon a time, long before the peaceful rule of Celestia, and before ponies discovered our beautiful land of Equestria, ponies did not know harmony. It was a strange and dark time. A time when ponies were torn apart... by hatred!”

Spike tried not to convey any of his sudden unease in his reply. “You seem awfully familiar with something that you claim to hate.”

Avarice looked away from the camera to Spike. “Well, I should be. I was there.”

“Wait, what?!” Spike blurted.

“Don’t you remember?” Hostility and resent quickly began to seep into Avarice’s tone, and his claws began to dig into the camera. “That was the first weekend after I’d woken up that I spent buried in your subconscious. Even if you didn’t see me, I was there. So—”

Avarice cut himself off when his eyes flicked to the camera as the strain it was undergoing in his resentful grasp became audible.

“One moment...”

Avarice calmly lay the camera aside and picked up a nearby flower pot. He then reassumed his pose, and reinstated his hateful glare to shoot back at Spike. The grating of Avarice’s claws digging into the dry surface of the clay assaulted Spike’s ears.

“So I was forced to hear every stanza, every line, every single damn word, from the rehearsals to the final performance.”

The flower pot shattered in Avarice’s grasp. Broken shards of pottery clattered across the balcony as the freed soil spilled through the gaps between his claws. The daffodils within fell slain to the floor as Avarice rubbed a thumb over his digits to brush the loose dirt away. Spike gulped at the sight, finding himself stricken with the uncanny suspicion that Avarice would have prefered the pot to be somepony’s skull.

“And even as an incorporeal consciousness that had just barely remembered how to employ a comprehensive grasp of language, I found that foolhardy fairytale so inane that I could almost feel it trying to deplete my intelligence with its vacuous stupidity.”

Avarice seemed to catch himself from descending any further into spite, because some of his resentful demeanor dissipated as he picked the camera back up again.

“Didn’t want to break this,” Avarice admitted. “Now then, where were we? Oh, yeah...” Avarice cleared his throat again, and continued. “Once upon a time, before the peaceful rule of Celestia,” Avarice dropped the accent, “and there’s the first plot hole: there’s no mention of Luna.”

“So?”

“So?” Avarice echoed. “That book Twilight was reading from before the two of you were arbitrarily relocated to this backwater dump said that Equestria was ruled by two sisters who perpetuated the cycle of day and night. It clearly mentions Luna, even if not by name. So then why wouldn’t she be so much as mentioned in the story that claims to be the founding of Equestria?”

“Maybe… whoever wrote the script for the play just forgot to mention her?”

“Forgot...” Avarice’s stare of disgust turned into a smirk. “Like how Clover the quote-on-quote Clever forgot to mention the windigos?”

“No, she didn’t!” Spike stomped his foot down hard on the balcony as he retorted. “She was the one who figured out it was the windigos causing the blizzard! I helped Twilight rehearse those lines!”

“Clover didn’t figure it out until the windigos were right in front of her. Yet her exposition makes it clear she knew what they were. So it never occurred to her that the blizzard which was getting worse with the contention might have been caused by spirits that use contention to make blizzards?”

Spike’s defiance faltered, and all he could get out was an “Uh...”

“Speaking of which, Clover mentioned that her mentor was Starswirl the Bearded, and the opening monologue said that this was “long before” Celestia... but Luna knew him; she was the only one who recognized Twilight’s debauched Nightmare Night costume. So how old is he supposed to be? And for that matter, where exactly do Discord and the discovery of the Elements fit into this timeline?”

“I don’t know!” Spike finally yelled in return. “I… I don’t know how to answer…”

Avarice’s nostrils flared, smelling blood in the water as he leered down at Spike in triumph. “What’s the matter; dragon steal your tongue?” He snickered. “Come on, Spike. You already know the answer, so why not just say it?”

“I don’t know… I really don’t know...”

Avarice peered at Spike with intelligent and devious cunning “Oh, I think you do know…” Avarice’s smirk took up an air of smarmy decisiveness. “Tell you what; I’ll take everything back if you can answer this one question.”

Spike knew that look in Avarice’s eyes all too well. He knew that Avarice knew that he’d already lost, but Avarice was just dragging this out because it amused him, like a cat batting around a wounded mouse. Regardless, Spike didn’t have anything to say in return but to reply, “Okay...”

“Alright, so get this,” Avarice’s grin intensified and his talking sped up, like he was hurrying to get to the punchline of a personal favorite offensive joke. “So you know at the end, when ‘friendship’ defeats the windigos, the three tribes unite, name their nation “Equestria,” and raise the flag above their new land, right?”

“Yeah, it’s been our nation’s flag ever… since...”

Spike simply let his sentence hang unfinished while his inner freight train of thought that had been carrying nitroglycerin derailed, smashing itself into a horrific, jumbled mess. Spike knew the answer before Avarice even got to ask his real question.

That still didn’t keep Avarice’s lips from parting in a victorious smirk, or keep him from lighting a match and throwing it towards the wreckage.

“‘Long before the peaceful rule of Celestia…’ so what in Tartarus are Celestia and Luna doing on the first and only version of the nation’s flag?”

Boom.

Spike could only stare in no particular direction, with eyes wide and mouth hanging open, as only one thought remained in the wake of the devastating explosion:

Is Avarice… right?

Spike heard a quiet click somewhere of in the distance, then a bright flash of light seared his eyes. He blinked furiously to clear away the after image to find Avarice holding the camera with a very amused expression on his face.

“Oh, that stupefied expression was priceless,” Avarice said through a sharp, toothy grin. “For a moment there, I could have sworn I saw your cortex dribbling out from your nostrils.”

Spike rubbed his eyes with his fists, then reinstated his agitated grimace, crossed his arms, and sharply turned away from Avarice.

Avarice crossed his arms behind his back, and leaned forward towards Spike. “My best guess is that entire flaccid tale is a fallacy that was either pre-approved or perhaps even fabricated by Celestia herself some time within the last several hundred years; that Celestia rewrites history at her leisure, and something about how Equestria was actually made isn’t something Celestia wants anyone else to know. And that’s the true story of Hearth’s Warming Day.”

“Now that’s just stupid!” Spike shot, turning back around. “Why would Celestia make up a story about how Equestria was made that according to you is full of plot holes? That makes no sense!”

“I agree.”

Spike did a double take. “You what?”

“Granted I’m still certain that Celestia is more than content to edit the past as she sees fit, but she either had little to do with the manufacturing of that mess or her hubris has lead her to believe that her subjects are too stupid to catch this,” Avarice explained as his voice became quieter and the syllables more emphasized. “Because there’s one loose thread that generates such a catch twenty-two over the stability of the Equestrian hierarchy that it confounds me to think that Celestia hasn’t tried to revise or omit it. Because there’s one line that threatens the foundation of her entire dynasty.”

“Really...” Spike muttered, incredulous.

“Yes.” Avarice locked his unblinking eyes to Spike’s. “The story says Equestria was founded well superseding the era of Celestia’s reign. So who raised and lowered the sun and moon?”

“Ugh, the unicorns, duh,” Spike grumbled.

“And therein lies the linchpin.” Avarice began to speak with more intent. “Either this story was written by an idiot, or the ancient unicorns really were able to raise and lower the sun… without Celestia. Either everything about this story is a lie because it contradicts just about every other comprehensive “fact” about Equestria… or, if this story is somehow true, it’s basically an open admission that the world doesn’t… need… Celestia.”

Here comes the aftershock.

Spike went silent as another overwhelming revelation practically obliterated his ability to think cohesively. It felt like everything he knew about the country he called “home” and the benevolent ruler of it all was up in the air, and he didn’t know what to think of either of them anymore.

Either everything about the founding of Equestria is a lie, or… no way; could it even be remotely possible that ponies… don’t need Celestia? Is… could it even be? Avarice is actually…

Another bright flash of harsh light burned his eyes.

“Stop that!” Spike yelled.

Avarice chuckled, pulling the camera back away from Spike. “Why? This is too much fun.”

The expression of Avarice’s face went blank as one of his horned ears twitched, following a sound that only he seemed to be able to hear.

“Well, time to get back to business,” Avarice said, brushing past Spike, making his way towards the foliage of the tree.

“You take this one. Not a word about me, or us, or she’s dead.” Avarice ordered from the concealment of the leaves.

“Hey, I’m not doing your dirty work for you! That wasn’t part of our deal!” Spike yelled at the spot here he knew Avarice lay hidden. “Get back out here and do it yourself!”

“Hi Spike!”

“AH!”

Spike screamed out in surprise for the second time that morning. He twisted as he leapt back, and came face to face the ever cheerful, cross-eyed Derpy, hovering in the air just above the ledge with a package sticking out from one of her saddlebags. She tilted her head to one side, letting her ears flop over in the direction of the movement as one of her eyes looked at him with smiling curiosity.

“Who were you talking to?” Derpy inquired, tone unchanged.

Spike’s body stiffened and his mouth pulled tight. He looked back at the tree and just barely caught Avarice’s gaze through a tiny break in the canopy. Avarice’s expression went from annoyed to agitated as he glared impatiently at Spike.

“Spike?” Derpy asked.

Spike exhaled, disgruntled, as turned his attention back to Derpy. “Nopony,” he muttered, blinking rapidly several times. ”Nopony at all.”

Derpy pursed her lips and arched the brow of the eye looking at him inquisitively while her other eye commenced a lop-sided investigation of the rest of the balcony.

“I’ll say… So you’re just up here on the balcony talking to yourself?” Derpy smiled as she closed her eyes. “That’s crazy!”

Spike sighed in annoyance. “Not that I don’t like seeing you, but is there a reason you’re here?”

“Oh, yeah! I brought you a package!” Derpy chimed as she landed on the balcony and procured the parcel from her saddlebags, placed it on the flooring, and nudged it towards him.

Spike looked at the package. It was addressed to Twilight. He didn’t recognize the writing, but he knew the symbol on the return address anywhere: it was from Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns. More interesting still was that the package had a note scribbled on it that specifically said it was to be delivered to the balcony.

“It’s funny; I usually don’t end up delivering mail here, since Twilight has you,” she said, then peered at Spike with a sly, chaff expression. “You’re not trying to put me out of a job, are you?”

“What? Oh, no; not at all. We haven’t even been getting any mail recently… maybe Celestia’s busy with something, or... something.” Spike mentioned as Derpy gave him a clipboard and he signed for the delivery.

“Well, I’ve gotta get going, but I’ll see you latter! Tell Twilight I said ‘Hi!’” Derpy exclaimed as she took off from the balcony and began humming some tune to herself.

Spike stared at Derpy for a moment, watching her fly away, then looked back to the unexpected package, uncertain.

What could Twilight possibly still need from her old school? Did she ask for this, or did somepony just send it to her? Is this from one of the other professors? Should I go get Twilight, or wait ‘til she’s done with… I wonder what’s inside…

Curiosity eventually got the better of him, so he opened up the package and looked inside. The first item he saw contained within the cardboard box was what looked like a cover letter. Underneath was what looked like a notebook and a manila folder labeled “UNIVERSITY RECORD COPIES.”

Spike quizzically stared at the contents, wondering what kinds of records had been sent to Twilight, and why. He reached into the box to inspect its contents further.

“Gimme that.” Avarice swept forward and snatched the package away from Spike.

“Wha— HEY! Give that back! That’s for Twilight!” Spike protested, and clawed at Avarice for the box in vain.

Avarice paid Spike not an ounce of regard as he put the package underneath one arm to take out the folder and flip through it. He shuffled past a few pages, then grinned.

“Perfect,” Avarice stated, then put the folder back into the package, moved the collection in front of him, inhaled, then promptly lit the whole thing on fire.

“HEY!” Spike yelled, but Avarice had already reduced the package to a plume of smoke that dissipated in a second.

Avarice kicked Spike off his leg, then spoke aloud without turning to face his subject. “Put this one on the ‘do not mention’ list, as bringing this up could unintentionally lead you to mention me.”

“Do you seriously think that Twilight isn’t going to eventually find out somepony sent her a package that she didn’t get, especially if that was material she asked for?” Spike scoffed.

“Yes. In fact, I doubt it’ll ever cross her mind.”

“Oh, and why’s that?” Spike dubiously scoffed.

Avarice blinked once, then snapped his head in Spike’s direction, and smirked. “Because she’ll be too busy helping Pinkie.”

Spike could only gawk at Avarice. His words had slapped him across the face too hard for him to concoct a fitting retort.

“Well, I’m off to go slink around in the shadows of back alleys, scouting out potential targets.” Avarice said as he walked away from Spike, and perched up on the railing. “Want to tag along?”

Spike answered not with words, but a wrinkled glare.

“If that’s the way you’re going to be,” Avarice returned with slight haughtiness. He turned away, ready to leap off from his perch, but turned his head sideways to leave with Spike with one final thought. “Don’t worry if I come back with anything that’s smeared in blood. The chances are pretty good that it won’t be from anyone you know.”

Spike’s eyes shot open at the realization of what he was allowing to roam the streets of his home once more. He moved to halt Avarice, but the other dragon had already launched himself from the platform, slicing through the air and into the nearest dark alley, morphing into the shadows within and disappearing from sight.

All Spike could do was observe the thief’s departure as he vanished into his natural habitat of shadow. Spike found himself alone again, and with nothing else to occupy him, he returned to the railing, and folded his arms as he leaned forward into the rail. He puffed out a sigh that had been blended with a grumble, and he resumed drumming out an annoyed rhythm against his arms with his little claws while his tail mirrored his simmering agitation with its short swipes through the air.

With nopony else to accommodate him, his disattached thoughts returned to the scene downstairs. The demeanor of his rational became all the more bitter with the realization that even as despicable as his last guest was, at least then he wasn’t dwelling on thoughts of Pinkie with bereft jealousy; he just had to deal with Avarice trying to ruin the story of Hearth’s Warming Eve for him.

And now I have to deal with my feelings about Pinkie and Twilight, and my problems with Avarice… and how the story of Hearth’s Warming Eve has been ruined for me.

Spike exhaled a heavy breath of air and closed his eyes, thinking about the words he had been saying before Avarice interrupted and pissed all over the only hope for eventually freeing himself from their forced bargain. Regardless, he recited his plea over in his head again, but this time, he heard Avarice’s words inlaid over his own query.

“Please, feel free to repeatedly crush your own spirits.”

That dissonant interjection soured the tune of his wistful appeals, making them sound so tinny that he grimaced at the noise. Immediately he felt his resolve slipping away. With equal parts vigilance and desperation, he clenched his eyes shut, took some time to ready himself, blocking out every sensation and focused only on collecting his strength. When he felt ready, he tried to practice asking for help aloud and alone again.

“Twilight?” Spike asked of no pony.

“Yes, Spike?”

“AH!” Both Spike and Twilight jumped back in shock.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” Twilight sheepishly apologized before noting Spike’s heaving chest, panicked breathing, and hair-thin pupils. “Spike, is something wrong?”

Spike was temporarily rendered incapable of speaking from not being able to get a word in edgewise over his hyperventilation. His terrified thoughts however had no such physical inhibitions, and were buzzing about in a frenzy.

Of course something is wrong! I almost just got you KILLED!

“N-No, ev-everythings-s, f-fine...” he stammered, blinking furiously. “You j-just… surprised me is all.” He put a claw to his chest. “Weren’t you just downstairs with Pinkie and everypony else?”

“Oh yeah,” Twilight managed a short, miniscule smile, “it wasn’t easy for her, but she told them the truth... about everything. Rainbow Dash expectedly took all the news a little hard, but she still promised to stick with us to the end. I know it’s only going to get harder from here on out, but I’m still proud of all of them.”

Some of his despondent edge crept it’s way back upon him, and he looked away. Yeah, but Pinkie wasn’t stuck with the dilemma where if she opened up to you with what was eating her up inside, you’d end up dead.

In the moment that had passed between bitter thoughts, he hadn’t noticed that Twilight taken a few steps towards him with a concerned gaze.

“Spike, what’s wrong?”

Spike crossed his arms and looked away, blinking again. “Nothing. Everything’s fine.”

“Spike, I know that tone in your voice. What’s bothering you?”

“Nothing, really.”

“Spike—”

“Nothing’s wrong!” he blurted.

Cold silence descended between the two. Spike could feel both his throat and his heart desiccate and crack. He chanced a glance at Twilight, and the second after wished he hadn’t; her dejected expression and slumped posture just made her feel that much farther away… and made him feel that much more alone.

“Alright… but when you want to talk to me about it, you know I’ll be there to listen.”

Spike’s closed pose just tightened. It’s not that I don’t want to talk to you about it… it’s that I’d rather not see you… 

He couldn’t bring himself to finish that thought; the memories were still too painful. He couldn’t even bring himself to say “Sure,” because he knew that would be an indirect admission that he had a problem, which he knew would just encourage Twilight.

“Spike, what happened to my daffodils?” Twilight asked.

“Oh; um… Derpy flew by her a minute ago, and, uh… startled me,” Spike replied, blinking a few times. “She says ‘hi,’ by the way.”

“Oh,” Twilight muttered as she picked up the shattered pot with her magic, sealed it back together, and repotted the flowers. “Well, please try to be a little more careful, okay?”

“Sure,” Spike mumbled.

“Well, Pinkie still doesn’t feel comfortable being in public right now, so I offered her to stay here for a while, which means I need to go run a few errands. Do you want to come along?”

“No.” Spike’s answer was more automated than it was thought out.

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I’m just fine up here on the balcony.”

“Well, okay then. I won’t be gone for long.” Twilight said, then turned around and walked back into the library, only to stop halfway there. “Spike, I know you didn’t feel comfortable hearing Pinkie talk about her nightmares again, but what are you doing out here on the balcony?”

“Uh… just needed some fresh air, I guess.” Spike gave the first answer that came to mind.

“Okay… stay safe, alright?” Twilight bid.

“I’ll be fine. See ya later.”

Twilight gave him a little nod, then left, leaving Spike alone again to fitfully ponder, but with yet another thought to bother him:

Why did I come out here?


- - - - - -


Eggs. Flour. Wheat. Sugar. Lots of sugar. Strawberries. Frosting. Jalapenos… no, forget those. Spinach. Lettuce. Cherries. Blueberries. Twilight sighed a little as the shopping list went on, and her saddlebags got a little heavier with each stop as she trudged through the marketplace. The pain in her sides was increasing as well, a sign her ibuprofen was wearing off.

Olives. Lasagna noodles. Cheese. As she tried to make her way through a particularly dense knot of ponies, a sudden bump from behind nearly threw her off balance. Suppressing her species’ instinctive urge to buck, she wheeled around.

“Hey, excuse y— Oh, Dr. Mend. What are you doing here?”

The good doctor looked up from his own shopping list. “Ah, Miss Sparkle. My apologies. Too wrapped up in item procurement. Acquiring herbs with certain medicinal properties. See you are engaged in a similar task,” Dr. Mend said in his usual rapid, breathless tone.

“Yes, actually, I have a friend that will be staying with me for a while,” Twilight replied. Just as she was about to bid him good day, a thought occurred to her. “Actually, do you mind if we talk for a little bit? I just had a few questions.”

“Mind? No, don’t mind. But do mind discussing it here. Suggest we move somewhere less busy. Patient confidentiality important, no matter the patient or the ailment,” Mend said pleasantly.

“Of course.”

A minute later found them between two unused stalls away from the steady flow of foot traffic.

“So,” Dr. Mend began. “Questions pertaining to Spike, I presume?”

“Not entirely,” Twilight replied. “The cut above his eye is healing nicely.”

“Hmm, interesting,” Mend mused. “Forehead laceration was not only problem, though. Nurses said he seemed distracted, anxious. Exhibited similar symptoms in my presence.”

“That’s not, well, medically related…” Twilight said uneasily.

“Mm. Of course. Spike is only dragon to be raised in captivity. Certain challenges should be expected.”

“Hey!” Twilight indignantly retorted. “Spike is not captive! I don’t keep him in a cage, or…”

“My apologies. Poor choice of words. Certainly not captive. But certainly only dragon to be raised amongst ponies. Still presents unique challenges. Is it true crystals are a regular part of his diet?”

“It is.”

“Fascinating,” Mend commented more to himself than as a reply, and be began tapping his chin thoughtfully. “Indicative of biological need for high mineral content. Similar to normal need for sodium, but much more varied. Perhaps correlated to dragonic longevity. Very fascinating.”

“That’s not what I wanted to talk about, though.” Twilight interrupted. “I was actually hoping you could tell me a little bit about psychological disorders.”

“Hmm, could be of some help. Physical maladies and proper medication is my primary occupation, but I dabble in all forms of medicinal therapy. What is your inquiry?”

“I was hoping you could tell me a little bit about phantom limb syndrome.” She paused. “It’s just part of my research into the occasional odd subject.”

“Interesting choice of topic,” Mend noted. “Imagined sensations, usually painful, emanating from a missing body part. Commonly seen among amputees.”

“So, how does it work?”

“Not entirely known,” Mend said as Twilight tried to hide her inner dismay. “Previous theory held that pain was caused by inflamed nerve endings in the stump. Treatments based on said theory only caused more damage. CAT scans of limbic systems indicate the syndrome as a symptom of still-active parts of brain repurposing vestigial neurons, but unanswered questions still remain. Modern theory more complex, but also more vague.”

“What do you mean?”

“Some believe the syndrome is caused by trauma inflicted upon the victim’s leylines.”

“The paths of mana that flow through all life, matter, and energy?”

“Precisely.” Mend affirmed. “Sure you are quite familiar with them. Some believe leylines help provide subconscious template for sensations the body expects to receive. If real-life sensations do not match template, body compensates. Often overly so.”

Twilight couldn’t help but frown at this. Great. So not only did I imbue a discrepancy into my subconscious, but I most likely messed up my own leylines, too! “Well, in that case, is there any way to treat it?”

“Not until recently. More conventional methods proved insufficient. Antidepressants, surgery, the like. Less conventional methods tried. Hypnosis, acupuncture, magical intervention, et cetera. Again insufficient. More radical solution was finally found.”

“What was that?”

“Give the brain what it wants. First treatments superimposed opposite healthy limb over the stump with optical illusions, usually with mirrors. Fooled brain into thinking everything was okay. Patients reported significant decrease in pain. Not long before mirror was replaced with an illusion spell. Even more improvement seen.”

Twilight kept her face cool, but inwardly she rejoiced. At last, a solution to at least one of the problems that had been plaguing her. “Thank you, Doctor, you’ve been very helpful.”

“A pleasure, Miss Sparkle,” Mend replied. “Admittedly needed pleasant conversation as well. Hospital has been more busy than usual.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Is there a flu going around? Has somepony gotten sick?”

“Cannot disclose information. Doctor/patient confidentiality, you understand.”

“Oh, of course, I understand.” Twilight replied, but then gave the matter a little more thought. “I’m rather busy myself, but is there anything I might be can do to help?”

“Offer appreciated, but no, thank you.”

Twilight was going to let the matter go, but another option suddenly came upon her, and she chose to go with it. “Doctor, you seem very intelligent, so you’re probably familiar with who I am, and how close I am to Princess Celestia. If need be, I could send a letter directly to her asking for anything that might assist you with whatever you’re dealing with at the hospital.”

Mend gave her a pensive look, clearly indicating he was considering Twilight’s offer. Another capricious motive struck her, and she followed through with it as well.

“Have you been seeing an increase in injuries similar to Spike’s?”

Mend let out a little sigh, then looked around them in all directions. Finding they were still very much alone, he got closer to Twilight and answered in a quiet voice just above a whisper.

“Still cannot say everything; you understand… but yes. Recent sharp increase in physical injuries: bruises, lacerations, broken bones, the like. All injuries express similarities indicative of single perpetrator.”

Twilight gulped, daring to inquire further. “How so?”

“All patients exhibited short-term memory loss, most likely from physical trauma. Makes Spike an interesting case.”

Twilight leaned in even closer, battling her foreboding. “Could you explain more, please?”

“All other patients bewildered, unsure of cause behind their injuries. Spike was different. Wasn’t surprised to find himself injured, but still very anxious.”

“Things were a little… tense, between us before he got hurt, but he said he just fell down the stairs.” Twilight supplied.

Mend nodded. “Said same thing to me. Twice, in fact. But I do not believe him. Treated several patients who fell down stairs, injuries too different. No, Spike’s injuries were clearly defensive wounds. Suspect he knows far more than lets on. Perhaps saw or even knows attacker and is to afraid to divulge their identity.”

Twilight could feel bumps forming on her skin, making her fur stand on end. “Do you want me to address Celestia about this?”

“Not yet. Going to send concerns to mayor soon if situation continues. If problem does not improve, then might be best to ask for help from high places.”

Twilight nodded. “Okay”

“Very well. Good to see you, but must return to hospital, do what I can to help. But remember, preventing injuries just as important as healing patients. Whoever’s behind this is extremely dangerous.”

“Okay.” Twilight did her best to stay level. “Goodbye, Doctor.”

“Farewell, Sparkle. Be careful.”

With that, Dr. Mend turned and quickly vanished into the crowds, humming a tune by Gilbit and Saddlevan as he left. Twilight, for her part, went back to buying the last of the groceries feeling very conflicted. On the one hoof, she felt assured that she now had an effective weapon to use against her adversary of pain. But on the other, her anxiousness over Spike had returned in full force.

Now that Dreamscape is safer to use, we should check up on him again, Reason said.

I agree, Twilight thought in return. Whatever is going on with him, things have more than likely taken a turn for the worse.


- - - - - -


Spike lay sleeping in his bed, tightly curled up into a scaly little ball, blanket pulled in close around him and eyes clamped shut. He would occasionally toss and turn in his slumber, creasing his forehead and brow, frowning in depression.

He’s been frowning an awful lot lately, Twilight thought to herself as she watched the little dragon sleep.

Pinkie had fallen asleep some time ago with the help of some heavy sedatives Twilight had offered her in hopes that it might potentially stymie further nightmares. So that allowed Twilight to stand right by Spike’s bed, watching him for what had been some time now.

An old memory rose to the forefront of her mind. Back when she was still a young filly, she’d found a horror story without her parents knowing, and it had proven way too scary for somepony as little as herself. But even after reading the first few chapters gave her nightmares and made her sleep with several night lights, Smartypants held tightly to her chest, and the covers pulled up over her head, not knowing what happened to the filly in the book was just as nerve-wracking as the monster which had been hunting her. So in a way, she had to finish the story, but just staring at the blank, unassuming cover of that terrible book filled her with so much foreboding and abject dread that more than once she had considered throwing it away and running to the comforting embrace of her parents, even if she was most likely going to get in trouble for it.

That was how she felt watching Spike as he slept. Except the solution wasn’t going to come as easily as it did for an upset and terror-stricken filly galloping to her mother and crying into her coat, desperate for respite. There was no solace to be found over the monster not being real.

There’s an actual monster in his head, Twilight thought with equal parts fear and despair as her eyes remained locked on Spike’s bandaged cranium. Knowing the ultimate, bloody fate of that little filly in the book wasn’t helping to ease her trepidation either.

Imagine how he feels, Reason’s words rippled across the pool of Twilight’s troubled thoughts. He’s the one whose head the monster is in.

 Still doesn’t make it any less scary, Twilight added.

No, it doesn’t, Reason admitted. But you’ve got to realize that Spike is just as scared of him, too, and if they’re fighting again right now, Spike is fighting him with nopony but projections to help. But if there’s something the last trip into Spike’s dreams and what the current situation with Pinkie should have taught you, it’d be that it’s easier to confront your fears when your friends are with you… just like what his projection of Rarity said.

Twilight nodded, and after a few more quiet moments, found the strength to commence with her plan. “Right... I’m finally ready,” she stated aloud, taking a few steps forward before swivelling her head around to look behind her. “Are you?”

Owloysius, armed with Twilight’s pocket watch and a glass of water, and bedecked in a padded suit made entirely of pillows and the helmet that Twilight had used while watching the dragon migration, saluted her. “Hoo.”

“Alright, same drill as before; wake me up after two minutes by throwing the water at the magic field around my head, but don’t wake up Spike,” Twilight instructed. “Oh, and thanks for helping out… but you really don’t need to take that many precautions. I fixed the spell, so… last time, isn’t going to happen again.”

“Hoo,” Owloysius curtly shot back, squinting at her, as if to say: “I’m not taking any chances.”

“Suit yourself,” Twilight said, looking back to Spike. She tried to smile at her own pun, but her own palpable premonition was suffocating. She knelt down beside Spike, but after a full minute passed, Twilight still hadn’t lit her horn.

What are you waiting for? You don’t seriously need me to activate Dreamscape for you, do ya? Reason interjected her little bit of banter into Twilight’s building anxiety. Don’t worry; Spike and I will be there with you. Twilight could sense Reason giving her a knowing yet bittersweet smile. Your subconscious did create me to help you deal with these kinds of situations, after all.

Twilight could sense mana preemptively accumulating in her horn, so she activated her magic and began to channel energy into casting the spell. Her own apprehension made it take three times longer than usual to ready Dreamscape, but when she did engage the spell and began to succumb to its effects, she turned her attention back to Reason.

Are you just as terrified of Avarice as I am? Twilight asked.

Reason paused before getting in her last thought.

No. It’s not my job to be scared...


- - - - - -


The first thing Twilight heard was the distant explosion of thunder, like gods forging their tools and weapons of war with the mighty strikes of hammers pounding upon an anvil, their work hidden by the dim, lead-gray clouds that consumed the sky, and applauded by the omnipresent patter of raindrops peppering the town and dampening her fur.

Twilight reached out to the program of the dream and encoded an umbrella into the world, opening it to shield her from further drenching. Her expression pulled tighter as she observed the empty, dreary street around her library. In this kind of weather, she otherwise loved to snuggle up next to a window with a good book or twelve and read to the relaxing chorus of precipitation, but there was something about even the very air that filled her with the weather’s dismal disposition.

“I suppose Spike’s depression have made his dreams just as gloomy as he is,” Twilight thought out loud to Reason, feeling the mirthless atmosphere beginning to weigh her down.

That should act as all the more incentive to resolve Spike’s issues with all the expedience possible, Reason replied. So that begs the question of where is he?

Twilight nodded, then returned to the shelter of the library she called home. But a quick search of the interior revealed that Spike wasn’t inside. Feeling antsy, Twilight returned to the rain outside.

“So if Spike isn’t in the library, where else could he be?” Twilight asked.

Well, there’s that other place, Reason pointed out.

The coolness of the humid air became all the more prevalent with the chill that swept through Twilight. Her ears swivelled towards the direction of that ominous mountain that only appeared in Spike’s dreams.

“N-no, I don’t think Spike is there… or that anything is going on at the mountain.”

Why not?

“I don’t hear anything. If... he... was trying to get out again, I’d have heard something by now.”

The gates to the cave are several miles away, and it’s pouring rain outside. What makes you think you’d be able to hear anything that far away in this weather? Reason dubiously asked.

“Because...” Twilight gulped; her mouth suddenly felt very much like cotton. “Because I’m terrified of him.” The words felt extremely odd, both coming from her mouth and reaching her ears. Her admission didn’t feel as cathartic as it did damning. “Survival instinct, I guess.”

Well, we still need to go there anyway, so we might as well check there first. After all, our primary objective is to learn more about Avarice, his plans, and his connection to Spike.

Twilight went stiff and her legs locked up, refusing to budge.

Twilight, don’t worry. Even if Spike isn’t there, I will be, so you don’t have to face him alone. Besides, line 2401 is active, so even if the worst does come to worst, you’ll just wake up; you won’t ever be stuck in you-know-where alone… not again.

“But if the worst does happen, that still doesn’t mean it isn’t going to hurt.”

And that’s why I’m here, Reason reassured. To help keep the worst from happening.

Twilight let out a pent-up exhale of apprehension. Fog billowed forth from her nostrils like steam escaping a pressurized engine of anxiety. She shut her eyes up tight, activated her horn again, and disappeared with a pop and a flash of pink light to reappear in the quarry, several stone’s throws away from the meticulous and menacing clockwork gates embedded into the fabricated mountain.

The rain was falling much more heavily at the foot of the mountain. Water came down in sheets while the gods sparred with their weaponry. The bitter chill of the wind swept through Twilight, making even the fog of her breath tremble.

Her legs shivered with each hesitant step, shaking both from the cold and her immense fright. Her torpid pace towards the doors carried all the gait of a pony trudging up to the gallows, for her destination was just as assuredly fatal.

You could have teleported us a little closer, you know.

“I do… but I have to prepare myself for this.”

Twilight approached the doors: great and imposing monoliths of exposed cogs and coiled springs that loomed over her, their stature all the more overwhelming with each tremulous hoofstep. She couldn’t help but shudder a little looking up at the twin clockwork sentinels, standing steadfast without regard or acknowledgement of any kind, least of all for the pouring rain or the shivering mare before them. They could hardly even be made to concern themselves with the dragon they held imprisoned.

“Well, Spike isn’t here,” Twilight duly noted, looking over the components of the locking mechanisms. Each passing pivot of her head and gyration of her eyes was becoming more twitchy and erratic. “Why is he being so quiet?”

Don’t know, Reason reluctantly admitted. But our last visit showed that he doesn’t spend his every waking minute trying to break down the doors. He could be digging; looking for another way out, or mining for Celestia-knows-what. Maybe we’re lucky and he’s sleeping.

“Or maybe he’s just on the other side, waiting for us to teleport in so he can set us on fire...”

That’s… one theory…

Twilight remained fixed in place, locked in a staring contest with the doors as precious time ticked by.

Twilight, we’re not going to find out anything more unless we go inside, and we don’t have that much time as it is.

“I know… it’s just...”

You’re terrified of him, Reason finished for her. We both know this is a monumental undertaking, but we have to do this… would it help you to bring everypony else in on this?

“Not now… not yet.” Twilight sighed. “I’m violating Spike’s trust enough as it is. I don’t think we should get our friends in on this until later. They’re still reeling a bit from learning what they have about Pinkie… and I still need to come clean with Spike about what I’ve been doing.”

Easier to obtain forgiveness than permission, huh?

Twilight flinched a little. “It sounds so bad when you put it that way...”

Yeah, well, it’s not our intelligence that gets us into trouble; it’s your reckless curiosity. Just don’t get reckless here: Spike’s well-being could be at stake.

“I know,” Twilight said. Her horn lit up brighter, and a powerful shield spell encompassed them. She then summoned her saddlebags and her pocketwatch from the library. She glanced at the watch, tucked both items back into one of the bags, and looked back at the gates with a furrowed brow. “I’m not taking any chances this time.”

Reason smiled with determination from within Twilight’s mind. Guns up, let’s do this.

Twilight closed her eyes, channeled more mana into her horn, concentrated on her teleportation spell, then disappeared with another pop and flash of light.

For a brief moment, that burst of sound from the discharge of her spell was the only thing that filled her ears. The moment after it passed and she rematerialized, the first thing she heard was the sound of the crashing rain and rolling thunder. She whipped her head around before she’d even fully opened her eyes, and saw only the drenched quarry and the armies of raindrops attacking it.

Her heart leapt in her chest, expecting that somehow the gates had opened up and they’d trotted right into a trap. She snapped her head back forward, and couldn’t help but jump back, startled by the sight before her… the steel doors, completely unmoved by anything that had just happened.

“What the...” Twilight mouthed, dumbstruck. She ignited her horn and cast another teleportation spell, only to transport herself to the exact same spot where she had just been standing.

“Wha... how… why can’t I teleport inside?!” Twilight blurted, utterly bewildered.

I— I don’t know, Reason said, sounding confounded herself. You didn’t cast the spell improperly, so by all accounts, we should be in the cave right now. Is something preventing us from reconstituting on the other side, then?

“N-no way!” Twilight stuttered. “Did he do this? How could Avarice have cast anti-teleportation wards to prevent us from getting inside?! He’s trapped in a cave! How could he even get enough mana to sustain them?! How could a dragon even cast magic like that?!”

Whoa, easy Twilight. I wasn’t suggesting anything so specific. Don’t forget, we are just in Spike’s dream after all. Physics and magic don’t work on as solid principles here as they do in the real world. But something is keeping us from apparating to the inside. Hmm, give me a moment to check the dream matrices…

Reason trailed off as she left the conversation to inspect the dream world. Twilight was struck with a feeling of something tugging in her mind as Reason reached out and started sifting through the multitude of functioning processes currently active within the dream.

“That feels weird,” Twilight said.

What does? Wait, you can feel that?

“Yeah. I don’t know how, and I can’t discern what you’re doing, but I can feel part of my mind doing… something.”

Really? That’s odd… Reason commented as she turned the majority of her attention back to the task at hoof. I suppose it might have something to do with taking a split personality into a dream with— whoa! What the hay?!

Twilight tensed up, alert. “What happened?”

I just… here, have a look at this…

Twilight felt another uncanny sensation of something within pulling on her mind, trying to get her to concentrate on a particular matter. She submitted, and followed the direction the notion was dragging her to the unseen workings of the dream world.

Twilight frowned slightly upon reaching it. The piece of the dream that Reason had taken her to was indecipherable and foreign; she couldn’t make heads or tails of it.

“Reason, what is this?”

This, if I may make an educated guess, is the compilation of each line of code that is constituting the inside of the cave.

“What? This unreadable mass? I can’t even tell what it’s supposed to be! How can you?”

I can’t. In fact, I only found this because I went looking for the code that’s making up the gates first. It’s obviously something here in the dream, but the language of the code seems to have been altercated to make it practically unfathomable.

“Wait; are you saying this part of the dream has been encrypted?”

Hypothetically speaking… yes. And if I could conjecture the location of the encryption key, I’d say it’s hidden somewhere behind that incomprehensible mass. But watch what happens if you try and manipulate or interact with them…

Twilight took hold of the substantial void and tried to issue a mental command to it, only for her to feel the code uproot her grip and shove her back. Twilight gasped at the circumstance.

“Encryption and active defenses?” Despite the humidity, Twilight felt her throat drying out. “Is Avarice doing this?”

As much as I loathe to admit, I don’t know. Another possibility could be that Spike’s subconscious is keeping us out.

“But how could Spike’s subconscious be capable of mounting fortifications like that? And why would he do that now when he was the one who let us inside the first time?”

As to the “how,” I honestly can’t be certain, but his method could have easily been born from motivation of the obvious “why.”

“And that is?”

He can’t bear to see Avarice hurt you again.

The profoundness of Reason’s words hit Twilight with the kick of the lightning bolts crackling overhead. Nothing about what Reason had just said was intended to be emotionally deleterious in any way, and yet they struck a blow right to her heart, making her brows arch up and her mouth draw open as she started at the unfeeling gates.

“He… Spike didn’t just put these gates here because he was afraid of what we’d think of him if we found out… he was terrified of what would happen to us if Avarice ever escaped...”

Even Reason’s voice had become a little strained. And then he experienced what he feared most when he let you try and help him, only for Avarice to burn you to death… 

Twilight’s throat had become parched, and her ability for speech had been reduced to a sad, dry whisper. “He blames himself for all this...”

Some time passed before Reason overcame the magnitude of her own emotions, and responded. There’s only one person who deserves the blame for this…

Twilight gave a little nod, steeling her expression towards the mechanical guards. “Right. Then let’s get in there, find out everything we can, and when the time is right… make him pay. Dearly.”

Reason grinned, determined. That’s the spirit. Some of her resolve dissipated. But that still leaves us with the question of how we get inside…

“Well,” Twilight began to say as she looked up at the full height of the doors. “There’s the obvious way...”

True… but despite what he said last time, I don’t think Avarice would be so hospitable as to let us in if we knocked.

“Or… we could be extremely rude houseguests and let ourselves in...”

Reason smirked. And track our muddy hoofprints all over the carpet. But Twilight, just opening up the doors is at the very least extremely dangerous. Spike has kept these locked for plenty of good reasons. Hay, given our luck so far, it could turn out to be another dead end.

“Hm, you have a point,” Twilight said, putting a wet hoof to her chin. “Tell you what: I’ll try to open these doors manually, and you see if you can hack the encrypted defenses surrounding the cave interior.”

So you’ll go be reckless while I do the smart thing. Alright, you got yourself a deal.

Twilight felt that unnatural disconnection in her mind again. She looked back at the gates, then tried to open them. But no matter how she prodded the internal mechanisms, the doors refused to so much as comply to her interaction. No approach with magic, attempt to manipulate the doors into opening, or combination of either method yielded so much as a slight shift of a single gear.

“Not that I want to give up,” Twilight finally said after almost half an hour, “but this is going nowhere. I might as well just try to uproot the entire mountain and look inside the cave that way.”

And even if you could just up and move several billion tons of stone and soil, I don’t think it would help any. Reason commented in return, irritated by the circumstance. I’ve been mentally hacking away at this program the entire time, and I haven’t gotten anywhere with it. At this point, it wouldn’t surprise me if you did open up the doors and we were met with nothing but an impassable void wall. How much time do we have left?

Twilight pulled the pocketwatch out from her saddlebag for consultation. “Only about five minutes.”

Shoot, Reason muttered.

“Now what?”

Well, we should at least go try to find Spike. He might be able to tell us why we can’t get inside the cave. And for that matter, we should see if anything has changed between him and Avarice since the last time we… or, that is, you were here. Though to be honest, I kind of thought we’d find Spike here. So if Spike isn’t in the house, and he’s not at the gates, where is he?

“Well, he’d obviously find some place to take shelter from the rain.”

Right, but seeing as how we’re in his dream, he wouldn’t go to any old place. He’d probably single out a location where he’d like to be.

“Someplace where he’d feel comfortable… someplace where he’d want to be cooped up...”

Twilight looked down at a nearby puddle and saw Reason’s reflection. They both nodded in unison and spoke and the same time.

“He’s at Rarity’s.”

Twilight pulled the umbrella back out from her saddlebag and opened it up over her head before she dispelled her shield. Her horn lit up brighter, and then she dematerialized in a flash of light to appear in front of Rarity’s business and home with her first successful teleportation in the last half hour.

Carousel Boutique bore all the lively exuberance of a tombstone. All the windows were bereft of light, and the lifeless curtains were drawn closed behind every pane. The trees creaked out dissonant notes as they swayed in the wind, and the flowers scattered amongst the bushes all sagged underneath the torrents of rainfall. Even the boutique’s color was ashen and grave, making the entire store emanate a grim disposition so palpable it made the carved figures of the stylized merry-go-round above look more like impaled corpses that had been left to go cold and rot in the storm.

Standing underneath the unfeeling shadow of Rarity’s abode, trying to resist the assault of the freezing rain, was Spike, with shoulders dropped and tail limp upon the ground. As Twilight watched, Spike lifted his clawed fist to gently knock upon the front door, only to let his arm fall back to his side. He stood there waiting for some time, but the door remained closed, and Spike remained in the rain.

“Spike?” Twilight called out to him, and began to trot up to the boutique.

Spike didn’t even turn his head enough to look at her, but Twilight knew she’d made herself known. She trotted up to his side and held the umbrella out to cover him from the pouring rain as well. She was about to say something, but then she finally got a look at the little dragon’s face.

The sternness in which Spike held the solemn look on his face made it clear to Twilight that he was lost in abject depression. His one visible eyebrow was cutting into dim eyes, the muscles in his throat kept clenching up like he was trying to swallow ice cubes, and he wore an unshakable frown that was carved out of stone.

Well, I guess you were right; this explains the storm, Reason noted.

“Spike?” Twilight asked again, trying to be as tender and warm as possible. “What are you doing out here?”

Spike tilted his head forward, and his expression grew colder. “What does it look like I’m doing?” He muttered, not even bothering to conceal his frustration or despondence.

“Well, that’s kind of obvious,” Twilight replied, keeping her supportive side on as much as she could. “But what I really mean is, why are you out here?”

Spike exhaled a pained sigh that approached being a whimper. “I need to be with Rarity.”

Twilight looked to the front door. It somehow owned a demeanor even more stony than the clockwork gates, and the diamond-shaped windows showcased a gray even more thick and cold than the armada of cumulunibus clouds weighing down the sky above them.

“Spike, I don’t think Rarity is home.”

“No… no, she is home!” A tone of fervent desperation crept into Spike’s voice. Twilight couldn’t tell whether he was in denial or being too perseverant for his own good.

“I know she’s home,” Spike continued, more to himself than to Twilight, “she just isn’t opening the door. I think she’s upset with me… but if she does change her mind, or if she at least wants to hear my apology for… whatever I did to wrong her, then I have to be here. Because if she did want me around, but I wasn’t here for her invitation… I have to stay, Twilight.”

Spike hadn’t even turned to look at Twilight when he spoke. Nor did he look away from the door when he lifted his fist, shaking from the cold, to knock upon it once more, only to let his arm fall to his side once more. The entrance still remained closed.

Twilight frowned at the hopeless routine Spike was undertaking. She took a step closer to him and lowered her head closer down to his level.

“Spike, why don’t you come home with me, where it’s nice and warm? We’ll get your bandage changed, and I’ll ask Owloysius to make you a nice cup of hot chocolate. Wouldn’t you like that?”

Spike shook his head. “That won’t help.”

Twilight leaned in a little closer. “Won’t help with what?”

The dispirited visage momentarily lifted went Spike’s eyes opened wide, as with fear or surprise. That break in the clouds vanished a second later when he adorned a more stern mask, and turned his head farther away from Twilight.

“Nothing,” Spike muttered, blinking several times. “Nevermind.”

“Spike, I’ve known you long enough to know when you’re upset about something. So if you have a problem—”

“‘You’ll be there to listen.’ Yeah, you gave me that whole speech yesterday. But you don’t need to be because everything is fine,” Spike tersely replied, then knocked a little harder on the door.

Twilight was about to respond, but Reason interrupted her. Wait a minute, Twilight. I think Spike believes this is reality.

What makes you think that? Twilight asked in her head.

He just referred to earlier today as “yesterday,” Reason answered. And last time, Spike at least knew he was dreaming, even if he didn’t know you were there with him. Plus, I think if his subconscious could tell the difference, his projection of Rarity would have let him in by now, assuming she’s even here.

Alright, so what do we do now?

Try to play that angle as though we were all actually awake to see if you can get him to leak anything about Avarice. But make it fast, we don’t have much time left.

“Spike… I know something is bothering you. You’ve… we both have been a bit on edge with each other since that night the two of us had those terrible dreams. And I know that’s partially because I haven’t been treating you as well as I should; that’s my fault, and I can’t apologize enough for being so insensitive. But… I don’t know, it just seems like you’ve been upset with something else since then…”

And then a thought hit her; something that she felt so foolish for not having it occur to her sooner, but now felt imperative to understanding everything since her last voyage into Spike’s mind.

“Spike, the last time we— in that nightmare you had a few days ago, where you dreamt that I had died… what happened before you found my body?”

Another alteration of Spike’s expression swept over his face. His face drew out longer and his eyes went wide, with pupils quivering. Twilight knew she’d gotten a break in something, but to what end, she couldn’t tell. She couldn’t even fully read Spike’s expression. He looked to be both afraid and comprehensive, so it was clear to her that the gears in his mind were turning; she just didn’t know which ones, and in what direction.

Spike’s expression disappeared behind another obstinate, blinking mask. “Nothing you need to know about. Nevermind, it’s not important. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“But… if it wasn’t important, why does it seem like it bothers you so much?”

“Because...” Spike fumbled with his words for a moment before crossing his arms and performing an about face, claws digging into his scales. “Look, just drop it, Twilight.”

“Spike, please,” Twilight implored. “I know you’ve got a problem that you’re not telling me. If you would just talk to me about it—”

“NOTHING IS WRONG!” Spike whipped around and roared at Twilight. “NOW GO AWAY!”

Twilight reared back from the offense: body tensed, face pulled tight, and eyes wide open in fear from the outrage burning in Spike’s eyes, now sharpened into crescents. Her recoil exposed Spike to the merciless storm, leaving him to glare at her through the pouring rain.

Tense moments passed between the two until the downpour seemed to quench that unnatural yet all too familiar fire of animosity blazing within the dragon’s dagger pupils. With the anger drowning, his scowl gave way to a painful frown, and his eyes were left with with nothing to reflect but sorrow. He turned away from Twilight to face the closed door again and fell to his knees, keeling forward onto outstretched arms. Spike’s breathing began to violently tremble, and he put a claw to his eyes, now clenched tightly shut, trying desperately to hold back tears.

Twilight’s heart broke at the sight, but all she could do was stand there, mental wheels spinning in the mud.

You’re losing him, Twilight, Reason interjected. It’s now or never.

“No, Spike.” Twilight’s voice shook from pain and fear, but her words were as sturdy as the clockwork gates. “I’m not going to leave you. I care too much about you to just stand idly by and watch you suffer alone.”

She trotted up next to Spike, sat down, and pulled him into a hug. He fought against her, squirming in her grip, but eventually gave in and let himself go limp in her embrace when it became apparent he wasn’t going to break free.

“Why won’t you leave?” Spike mumbled. “Why don’t you just give up on me?”

“Because that is not what friends do, Spike.” Twilight’s words were soft, like how her mother would speak to her when the two of them were having the closest of heart-to-hearts. “I understand you don’t feel comfortable telling anypony what you’re going through, but never forget you have somepony to tell. And when you do feel that you need somepony to confide in, you can always confide in me.”

A distant noise caught Twilight’s attention. One of her ears swivelled to meet it, an instantly recognized the bellowing roar of a stampeding tsunami.

“No Twilight...” Spike whispered in a choked voice so quiet that Twilight almost didn’t hear him over the charging wave rushing forward to devour her.

“I can’t.”


- - - - - -


Twilight awoke with water still dripping from her face, blurring her vision. She rubbed a foreleg across her eyes to wipe some of the water away, and found a towel being nudged her way by a very cautious owl wearing an impromptu shock absorption outfit.

“Thanks, Owloysius,” Twilight muttered with some dismay as she took the offered cloth and dried some of the water off her face with it. “I’m fine, so you don’t have to worry about another bear-hug of death.”

“Hoo,” Owloysius replied with a slight sigh of relief.

“I’m going to go get another towel,” Twilight said as she walked out of her bedroom. “Could you watch over him until I get back, please?”

“Hoo.” Owloysius saluted her, and inched closer to the sleeping dragon with a series of hops.

Twilight closed the bathroom door behind her before she flicked on the light and pulled another towel from the linen closet. She rubbed the thick fabric over her head and partially through her mane as she approached the sink, and let out a sigh as she felt another pair of eyes upon her.

“Well, that was disheartening,” Twilight moped aloud.

“Yeah, it was,” Reason agreed from her reflection in the bathroom mirror. “Seriously, how could either of us have seen that one coming? I knew it wouldn’t be easy trying to learn anything more about Avarice by going into the cave, but who would have thought we’d have a hard enough time just trying to figure out how to get inside?”

“Tell me about it,” Twilight mumbled as she placed her gyroscope upon the countertop and set it in motion.

“Why do you think Spike refused to talk to us?” Reason asked.

“I don’t know,” Twilight sadly uttered while she morosely stared at the gyroscope. No matter how hard she was trying, she couldn’t stopping thinking about the way Spike refudiated and yelled at her. She couldn’t help but dwell on just how much the anger that Spike directed towards her looked just like when he got angry, too. She couldn’t get past how much it terrified her and broke her heart.

“I just don’t get it,” Reason continued thinking aloud as Twilight finally spun her totem, only partially paying attention to either. “It wasn’t easy to get him to talk last time, but he still opened up after a little coaxing… and at least then he sort of admitted that he had a problem; we couldn’t even get that much out of him this time.” Reason began tapping a hoof to her chin. “Something must have changed since the last time either of us went into his dream. But what could have… oh… oh no...”

“What?” Twilight asked, turning away from her totem.

“Oh Celestia, I’m such a fool! Why didn’t that occur to me sooner?!” Reason bemoaned.

“What?” Twilight asked again, more alarmed as she glanced at the mirror.

Reason looked back at Twilight, deathly serious. “Okay, get this; when Spike woke up the morning after you used Dreamscape on him, he had said that he had a nightmare wherein you died. That seems pretty indicative that he found your body before the dream ended, right?”

“Yeah, but...” Twilight couldn’t finish her sentence when what Reason was getting at began its terrible dawn over her.

“But we were in a separate chamber,” Reason picked up where Twilight left off. “We were cut off from both Spike and his projection of Rarity, and it’s probably safe to assume that they were trapped in different chambers too, with only a trap door chute to get out. So again, stipulating that this was the situation Spike found himself in, the only way that Spike could have found your remains was if he somehow escaped his cell, got past Avarice, and made it to where you were, or—”

Twilight gasped and looked right into the mirror. “Or Avarice showed him our corpse...”

The glass gyroscope fell over with a gentle clink, but it went unnoticed by Twilight.

“Avarice has to be using Spike’s own fear against him! That has to be why Spike wouldn’t talk to us! But then that would mean Avarice has coerced Spike into submission!”

“Twilight, you’re—”

“I’m losing him! Spike is giving up hope to his instinct-turned-evil-split-personality, so it’s only a matter of time before Avarice makes him go on a rampage, and then we’re going to have to use the Elements to turn him to stone, and then Celestia and everypony else is going to be so disappointed in me that I failed my best friend so badly—”

Twilight was cut off when a sphere of water smacked right into her face. She lurched back from the offense, shaking off as much water as she could. For a split second, she thought Owloysius might have hit her with another glass, until her vision cleared to see the magenta aura around the faucets of the sink twist the handles off.

“Sorry,” Reason said, “but you were getting a bit hysterical again, and I couldn’t get your attention back, so that seemed like my best option.”

Twilight just stared at Reason, bewildered and dumbfounded. “Did… did you just—”

“Technically, you hit yourself in the face with a hydrosphere.”

“Hey, don’t try to get coy with me!” Twilight shot. “You did that, didn’t you?!”

Reason sighed and looked away, pensive and graven. “Symptoms include inexplicable memory loss, mood swings, and alterations in routines, formalities, and behavior...”

Twilight craned her neck back slightly. “What are you—”

“In the most extreme cases, a separate identity can evolve into its own separate consciousness. In these cases, behavior can alternate between different identities, and these identities can converse with each other, think on different levels, and even share memories.” Reason finished her recital, then looked at Twilight with a pensive and somber countenance. “Yes, I splashed you in the face… but I wasn’t able to literally just a minute ago.

“You’re getting worse, Twilight,” Reason explained with bleak seriousness. “Between your obsessive compulsiveness and your unspoken vow to help your friends whenever they have a problem, coupled with the trauma of being murdered by your best friend’s evil alter ego, suffering through sixteen days of saturated loneliness, and accidentally performing an inception on yourself, your subconscious created me under the premonition that you would ultimately go insane if you tried to solve all these problems in the damaged psychological state you’re in.”

Twilight winced as a wave of pain rushed through her sides.

“This isn’t just about Pinkie and Spike now; it’s about you, too.” Reason continued. “So much hinges on you that a weaker pony might snap under the pressure, but you’ve already begun to crack. I can keep you from cracking, but if I have to keep taking control of you manually like that while your mind is getting weaker, I can’t help but think that’s just going to make you worse off, too.”

Reason’s expression stiffened with earnest. “So I can’t stress enough how we need to approach this rationally, and, I stress this even more, calmly… and by the way, your totem fell over.”

Twilight glanced at the gyroscope for the first time in minutes. Upon seeing it lying motionless on the counter, she looked back to Reason. “Alright… rational and calm… but what about our theory about Avarice using fear to extort silence from Spike? Even somepony logical as you has to see the potential merit of that.”

Reason nodded her head. “I do, and that would certainly explain a lot, but then that begs the question that if Avarice only exists as a conscious trapped in Spike’s mind, and one that Spike has locked up for that matter, why would Spike still refuse to talk to us based on that fear if he thought we were awake?”

Twilight pursed her lips and ran a hoof under her chin in contemplation, then gasped and looked back up at Reason with wide and fearful eyes. “What if Avarice was capable of doing things to Spike similar to what you just did with me and the water, just infinitely worse?!”

Reason’s own eyes grew wider and the corners of her mouth pulled tighter. “Alright, that’s definitely something to consider… but wait a minute,” Reason interjected, and adopted another pensive look. “If Avarice can go about assuming direct control of Spike at his own discretion, why wouldn’t he just do so whenever he wanted? I don’t take control right now out of courtesy and because I know it’d be more detrimental to you in the long run, but Avarice holds no such obligation to Spike. So if he had that opportunity, why wouldn’t he take it? What’s keeping Avaice from taking control of Spike and, dare I be so macabre, using the carving knife to slit your throat while you’re asleep?”

“Maybe… he can’t? Ugh, I don’t know...” Twilight groaned. “But remind me to hide that blasted knife.”

“And all this is working on the pretence that Avarice still exists in Spike’s mind...” Reason said. “You know how much I hate to admit this, but I don’t know, either. We may have found new paths to explore, but their destinations are all shrouded, and there’s no way of knowing where any of them lead unless we keep going back until we do reach a decisive conclusion.”

“Or… we could go straight to the demon himself and make him give us the answers,” Twilight posed with furious intent in her tone. “He caught us off guard last time; we didn’t get to use our magic on him. Maybe then he’ll be the one who learns to fear what happens when you mess with somepony’s friends.”

“Admirable gusto, but don’t forget what that projection of Rarity said about sticking your hoof into a snake hole...”

Both Twilight and Reason shuddered at the utterance of those creatures from Tartarus.

“I do,” Twilight replied, “but that’s why we stomp down into that thing while wearing cleats.”

Reason smirked. “Now that’s more like it.”

Twilight returned the expression, only for it to falter slightly the next second later. “But even then, it’s clear that something has changed…”

“Or maybe it was always worse than we expected, and we just never knew until now,” Reason ominously added. “Either way, something insidious is ahoof here… and considering it involves Avarice, I shudder to think that it could be far worse than either of us imagined.”

Twilight gulped. “I thought you said you existed to keep worse things from happening?”

“I said I’m here to keep the worst from happening,” Reason corrected. “But we can still find a solution to fix everything. In the meantime, just be thankful that the worst hasn’t happened...”

Twilight’s insecurity couldn’t help but fill in the blank at the end of that sentence.

Yet...