Ch 3 the viewing
Twilight sat truly alone in the little Ponyville library for the first time since coming here, truly alone for the first time since she had first been allowed to take Spike home for good. It was an uncomfortable feeling, being alone, and not one she would ever choose in the future. She glanced to her side dully, barely noticing the pile of books left out from before the tea party, something that seemed so distant now. Before, she would insist she couldn’t read with his constant snoring or bellyaching, but now, she couldn’t even think of trying without him there.
Rainbow Dash, and Fluttershy when she woke up, had carried a bawling Twilight home, trying to console her, and when that failed trying to avoid letting her be seen in this state. She had eventually cried herself to sleep, only then to have nightmares about an animalistic Spike leaving her, growling at her that it was her fault for not preparing properly, that he never wanted to see her again. The final one had woken her up with an image of Spike’s, her Spike’s, teeth closing around her, with no protective barrier to keep the slobber or deadly intent at bay.
Since then, she had lied listlessly like this, too scared to sleep, and with not enough energy to do anything. Luna had come by and explained a few more things to her.
“Thou must understand, Twilight, ‘tis not any mindset of Spikes own making, but a natural response to total magic deprivation. His body must decide where his strength and energy should be directed.” When she received no response from Twilight (other than more crying) she continued with her explanation. “He must be deprived of sustenance, forced to draw upon his inner reserves for energy. This is why thee and thine friends cannot visit him, as thou wouldst be tempted to provide him with gems or food, which could lengthen the process, or worse, doom him to repeat it later.” Luna had gone on to do and say all she could to try and make things better for Twilight, but there was nothing for it.
At some point she had offered a small light at the end of the tunnel, a mirror through which Twilight could scry Spike, viewing his progress for herself, and a promise that her presence as well as that of her friends would be essential for the desired end to the chryssaling. Twilight glanced at the mirror, idly wondering if she should use it, if anything would have changed, if it even mattered.
She decided it didn’t, that no matter if she couldn’t actually be there, she could send him spiritual strength. She had never believed in such an idea before, but if it existed, now would be the time to prove it. She sauntered lazily to the mirror and sat before it, her bone dry throat leaving her voice as barely more than a hoarse whisper when she said “Show me spike.” The surface of the mirror rippled like a stone had been thrown into a pool of mercury, then darkened briefly before clearing, hazily at first but improving shortly, into an image of a glowing cave, within which sat a certain little dragonling.
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Spike was in pain. That was all he could think as his mind was assaulted on all sensory levels, a degree of maximum input that left him feebly whimpering on the ground, arching his back in agony, clawing about for something to hold onto.
Luna watched silently from a corner of the cave, a minor blurring spell keeping her from being noticed, and from risking the boy trying to draw her to his aid. It was not necessarily needed that he not see any-pony in truth, but she doubted she could stop herself from going to him if he called out to her, and that could not be allowed. He had to get through this on his own if he wanted to avoid having to do it again.
Luna numbly harkened back to a memory she had of speaking with a surprisingly open and friendly dragon dame that had told her of her own whelps’ chryssaling. The dame had described in shuddering detail, visibly upset by the memory, the pain her child underwent, his pleas for aid, for reprieve, and finally for death. Of the bloody scratches he had laid into himself, of the bite marks and of accidentally eating the tip of his own tail, which was considered a relatively normal thing that would result in a tail twice as long normal and would be without the spines or club-like traits others had. At the time, Luna had listened in fascination, a scholarly sort of interest in knowledge she never expected to apply or experience herself.
Now that she had been forced into the situation, she thought back to her callous attitude toward the story and cursed herself. That story, in all its visceral terror and motherly fear, had not in the least prepared her for the fact of the situation. Sure she knew what needed to be done, what was expected of a healthy chryssaling, but the raw emotion of being there for the event would haunt her for decades to come.
The smell of iron drew her attention from her own thoughts and back to the task at hoof. Spike had begun to claw at his back, tearing out scales and attempting to break his own dorsal ridges. Luna made to stop him, getting as far as the barrier in fact, before she remembered the story itself, and what this signified. She quietly walked back to the little cubby she had set aside, back to her hiding, and watched, only the smallest hint of terror showing on her face. She did not interfere save to magically draw his claws to where they needed to be.
Within several hours, the child had torn away much of the flesh of his back, successfully breaking the ridges he needed to, and now wailed and whimpered in the fetal position, sitting in various puddles of his own bodily fluids. And from the weeping, self-inflicted injuries a pair of frail, milky white projection could be seen upon his shoulder blades. The beginnings of a pair of wings.
Luna sat passively, glad that particular part was over and fighting the urge to retch. Still, it was far from over, and Spike seemed to be taking longer that was expected of him, showing that her part in this was not yet done.
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Twilight had sat and watched the whole thing in horrified fascination for a time, till it turned to just plain horrified. Her little whelp sat in puddles of his own tears and blood, as well as a few unmentionables, and all she could do was sit and watch, hating herself for her uselessness. Twilight was not nearly so strong as Luna in the face of this, and truthfully none could have expected her to be, and so she ran to her little bathroom and puked her guts out.
She sat in the bathroom for a while, unable to find the strength to leave, and fought unconsciousness. Finally, once she was sure she had won, she stood and returned to the mirror. The purple alicorn started a little when instead of her little dragon, she saw only herself looking back at her. “M-Must’ve stopped when I left.” She quietly reasoned, and truthfully she was glad for it. She didn’t have the strength to keep watching, and she didn’t think spike would want her to.