//------------------------------//
// Part 6 The Future: Silence and Bonds 
// Story: Facing the Future 
// by Zephyr Spark 
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	Limping past the fallen door, Spike stared at his surroundings in horror. He had escaped that underground prison, but this place was immeasurably worse. He was in Twilight’s castle, no longer recognizable after centuries of neglect. The once vibrant crystal walls were gray and lifeless. He stepped further into the room and recognized the Cutie Mark map covered by the collapsed chandelier of memories their friends had made them. Inspecting the crystals that once hung from the tree’s roots, he could no longer see the memories of a better time long ago. The crystals were dark with silence. He found only a handful of crystals with life, but even those memories were quickly fading as darkness seeped around them. Seeing those fond memories wasting away burned him. Turning his gaze upwards, he listened for a sound, any sound. He wanted something to break this oppressing silence and recall happier days. Nothing. The halls once filled with the sound of friends laughing echoed now with only silence.
Spike trudged through the dull, ramshackle hallways, finding the rest of the castle in similar disrepair. He quickened his pace anxious to find Twilight. He longed to call her name in some hope that she might respond, but the silence that surrounded him felt paralyzing. He came across a stairway, and carefully treaded across it as it creaked with each step. This small sound felt boisterously massive amidst the crippling silence that permeated the castle.
Making his way across another hallway at the top of the stairs, Spike quickened his pace to a trot as he felt the silence creep behind him like a silent assassin. It would behave like blood cells attacking a bacterial invader if it caught him. He dare not run though, subconsciously fearing his hooves slamming against the lifeless floor would alert the nameless quiet and it would pursue him. He had to find Twilight now.
At last, he came to Twilight’s old room. Gingerly opening the rusty doors, he delicately stepped inside. His eyes flitted about the dead room until they came to rest on a familiar tall figure resting on a bed completely motionless, gazing out a window. Everything he had seen and felt in his entire life, no matter how pleasant or painful, could not compare to the heartache and tears he felt looking at what was once his friend and protector.
Her once purple fur was now dull and ragged, her body covered in visible scars and patches of dead skin and thick layers of dust. An overgrown, unkempt white mane that trailed down across the floor masked her face. A long horn pierced through this mane where her head was, but it was chipped and laced with cobwebs. Spike could see this figure’s spine, protruding rib cage, and every bony limb, as though she had not eaten in centuries. Her unruly tail covered the floor, infested with parasites and gray with age. Spike moved before her and inspected her closer through her mane. Her face was abysmal. Her bony cheeks shriveled and skin was drawn across it like paper stretched close to breaking. Her gray, weathered eyes glazed listlessly across the window, unblinking and uncaring. Her lips moved nonstop and she groaned faint primal sounds, as though she was trying to formulate words but could no longer grasp speech.
“Twilight?” Spike spoke with difficult pain, “it’s me, Spike from the past. I was sent to the future and turned into a pony. I need your help to get back so I can set things right.”
She did not even notice him and continued her silent vigil. Spike’s heart plummeted even farther seeing his hero in such a state. His body trembling, he tried to grab her attention.
“Once I’m back in my time, I can go back to Ponyville forever. None of this has to happen,” Spike said extending a hoof to touch her withered hoof, resting on the bed. “We can stay together forever. I don’t become a monster and all of our friends survive.”
Twilight continued gazing vacantly out the window. Spike became desperate.
“Please, I want another chance! Let me do the right thing!”
Twilight’s lips continued their soundless, wordless movements and the rest of her body remained motionless. Tears rolled from his eyes uncontrollably as he took her hoof in both of his and whimpered through his sobs, “I didn’t know this would happen! I should have just told you about my nightmare and we could’ve have worked it out. I should never have let my fears keep me away from my family. I should never have rejected your love!”
Spike’s head fell to Twilight’s hoof and he wept into it, shouting with complete conviction, “Please, Twilight! I swear I’ll never leave your side again. I’ll stay with you the rest of my life, being the best assistant, friend, and son you could ever know! Even when I grow too big to stay in the castle, I’ll find a way to stay with you as your best friend even if I have to build myself another castle! I’ll prove to every pony, who said otherwise, that I am not some beast! I’ll be a noble, kind, generous dragon, like you always wanted, and when ponies ask who I am, I’ll tell them all ‘I am Spike, the dragon! Twilight’s eternal friend!’ Please Twilight,” he lifted his face to stare into her unmoving eyes, “Say something!”
Silence dominated the room, and Twilight sat unmoving. Spike cried harder than he ever had before, ragged sobs tore through his entire being. Twilight was gone. She wouldn’t give him another chance. The future was ruined, his friends were dead, and Twilight, his hero and surrogate mother, was broken. It was all his fault. He became a monster the moment he left his friends’ love and now, he would stay here in the future and watch the world burn. It was a truly fitting punishment.
After hours, he stopped crying and sat before his stone still, stone-quiet friend, who might as well be dead. They sat there together for hours, as the silence overtook them. Spike broke his gaze and stared across the room. On a crumbling desk, he found a pair of sheers for cutting hair, a washcloth, a duster, and a comb. He paced over to the tools and inspected them. They were old, rusty, but functional. He grabbed them and did what he knew best; care for Twilight.
Although he struggled without his fingers, Spike used the sheers to trim Twilight’s mane. When it was finally a respectable length, he gathered up the excess hair and tossed it out the window. He painstakingly groomed her mane with his comb, straightening and styling her mane to what he had always known while meticulously pulling out every parasite and dumping them in a basket. Using the duster, he gently removed several layers of dirt and dust from her coat, revealing her weathered but persistent purple fur. Using the washcloth, he rubbed her hooves and horn, removing cobwebs and renewing long absent luster.
He stepped back to look at his work. Twilight was still bony and gaunt, her coat marred by scars, bald or gray spots, her eyes still glistened listlessly out the window, and her lips continued their meaningless dance. Now, her mane looked presentable, and her familiar pink streaks shone through, her body was clean and no longer infested by parasites, her wings, though drooping and losing feathers, had recaptured some of their lost glory, and her horn shone once again, proud and strong. She was still broken, but at least she looked better.
Spike climbed onto the bed and sat next to Twilight, resigning himself to join her lonely vigil, as they helplessly watched the world crumble away. They would face the end of Equestria as they faced everything: together. Ironic, but certainly fitting.
“I’m sorry if all that grooming bothered you,” Spike said, more to himself than the alicorn as he accustomed himself to his own company for the rest of his lonely life, “I just can’t help it. You’re so precious. To me, I mean.”
Spike rested his gaze at the red and black sky beyond the castle. The silence conquered the room and the castle. It pervaded Spike’s thoughts and Twilight’s mind. It was all they knew now.

***

She saw something enter, but she had no idea what it was. She could barely recognize anything these days. It was purple and green, and for a moment she dimly thought she was being haunted by ghosts of the past. Then the ghost spoke, she could not discern its words; she did not try. She no longer cared. The only words that caught her interest were ‘Twilight’ and ‘Spike’, but even they faded as her consciousness slipped into an ocean of nothingness.
The unclear vision spoke more, but she paid it no heed. She had experienced similar tormenting delusions so frequently that she had all but lost her perception of reality. Still, this vision had a familiar voice, one she had long forgotten. Perhaps this was to exacerbate her torment. Even if she cared, she had long gone blind and had not used her eyes in centuries.
The ghost’s pleads grew more urgent, it’s words more distinct. Suddenly, it grabbed her ancient hoof and cried into it. No ghost had been so bold as to touch her before. None had moistened her with their tears. What kind of ghost could possibly touch her?
“I didn’t know this would happen! I should have just told you about my nightmare and we could’ve have worked it out. I should never have let my fears keep me away from my family. I should never have rejected your love!”
A dim spark in her mind awakened. She knew this voice. She knew this ghost. The ocean struggled to douse this spark, but it shone with stubborn brilliance. This brilliance only grew as the ghost’s pleas grew louder, it grabbed her hoof with another hoof, and threw his face soaked with tears on her hoof.
“Please, Twilight! I swear I’ll never leave your side again. I’ll stay with you the rest of my life, being the best assistant, friend, and son you could ever know! Even when I grow too big to stay in the castle, I’ll find a way to stay with you as your best friend even if I have to build myself another castle! I’ll prove to every pony, who said otherwise, that I am not some beast! I’ll be a noble, kind, generous dragon, like you always wanted, and when people ask who I am, I’ll tell them all ‘I am Spike, the dragon! Twilight’s eternal friend!’ Please Twilight. Say something!”
Even if she wanted to, she had all but lost her ability to speak. Her throat was stained with age and wear. She could not do anything to help this specter. Soon, he would fade into the ocean of nothingness just as everything else she loved had centuries ago. As her conscious faded away once again, she sensed great despair within the ghost as he exhausted himself from weeping. At least, she thought it was a he. The emptiness she had known for so long clouded her thoughts.
The ghost stopped crying. After some time, the ghost left her sight. She had hoped he might stay as she felt some faint sympathy for the creature. Then again, it was better to lose before one grew attached. How had she come to believe that? She could not recall. Her memories had been replaced with a vacuous void.
She felt something tugging at her body that she remembered she had. It seemed the ghost had not left her and instead worked on grooming her, clipping her long neglected mane, dusting her decrepit body, and shining her hooves and horn. After more time, the ghost stood before her, staring at her intently. She wanted to stare back but found her eyes unyielding. She wished she could thank the ghost, but she barely remembered her existence. What had the ghost called her? Twilight? It sounded so familiar, and yet something was missing.
“I’m sorry if all that grooming bothered you. I just can’t help it. You’re so precious. To me, I mean.”
Precious, the word echoed in her mind, rekindling the spark that almost died. At long last, a memory returned. She was standing in a place from her past, with a white stallion staring at her, as she, a tiny filly, nuzzled the baby dragon on her back.
“I can’t help it,” Twilight stroked the little dragon’s head as her lips curled into a smile, “he’s just so precious.”
The dam that had halted all her higher functions for centuries violently burst and her memories flew forth like a raging flood. She remembered Canterlot, magic, Ponyville, her friends, their adventures, and the little dragon. She was Twilight Sparkle and she was an alicorn and a princess of Equestria. As her memories of the past resurged, her consciousness and self-awareness grew, as she finally comprehended her surroundings. 
She blinked. Her world became less blurry. She blinked again. The ghost beside her was no longer a ghost but a young pegasus with her little dragon Spike’s voice. Her lips stopped the dancing they had unconsciously performed for centuries and everything became clear. Twilight knew who she was, who was beside her, and what she had to do.
With difficulty, the once dormant statue moved her lips of her own accord. There was no sound. She tried again desperately praying she would not remember everything only to forget. She inhaled, filled her lungs, and tried to make not sounds, but words. For the first time in centuries, Twilight, the alicorn, spoke.
“You’re precious to me too, Spike.”
The pegasus turned to her, praying his ears had not deceived him. With great effort, Twilight turned her neck, each joint aching from the strenuous, demanding action. She blinked and looked into the eyes of her visitor, not the eyes of a ghost or distant memory, but the eyes of Spike, her number one assistant and friend.
“You’re precious to me too, Spike,” she repeated breathlessly.
Tears of joy swelled in his eyes as Spike embraced Twilight, feeling her comforting, tranquil presence that he had missed since he left. She embraced her friend, releasing similar tears, as Spike’s sweet, easing presence washed over her, a presence she had missed for centuries. As the two friends embraced, sobbing, and talking, the silence was broken and driven away from their home.

***

P stood before an assembly of ponies, griffons, and various creatures. She was shackled to a post and drained of her magic. They had muzzled her to halt her fire breath but maintained openings so she could confess. The assembly had been torturing her for hours, demanding she reveal where the prisoner went. She had tried playing innocent, claiming she had no idea, but the lock on his prison was burnt and she was the prime suspect. Since then, she silently took their beatings and humiliating torments, not giving them the satisfaction of seeing her pain.
“For the last time,” a pompous snowy-white griffon raked his metal tipped claws against her side drawing crimson blood, “where did you bring him? Tell us now and your pain will stop.”
She fearlessly stared at the griffon. He was probably some bootlicking worm who had stayed underground his whole life, letting others do the fighting while he weaseled for power. He was far from intimidating; he was rather pathetic.
“Children like you don’t deserve those claws,” she snorted, “you’re just a little boy pretending he’s a warrior by bullying a girl. Guess what? You neither demand nor deserve my respect.”
His face grew red and the veins on his temples pulsed. He screamed in anger and slashed her once more. Another griffon stopped him from striking again and spoke.
“This is getting us nowhere,” this female griffon snarled tossing the other one aside, “she won’t say anything to us.”
“Then perhaps she will speak to me,” a voice sounded from everywhere at once and shook the room, which seemed to darken. Instantly, every creature was on its knees in terrified submission.
“My Queen!” The pompous griffon spoke, “we will have the answers you seek, just give us time—!”
The griffon was hoisted into the air by magic and flung against a wall where he was held tight, writhing in agony.
“You had time.” The pitiless voice shook the room, “you have given me no answers.”
“Please,” he whimpered, “we have put her through every manner of torture—“
The griffon’s body burst into black flames. He shrieked as the excruciating pain filled his entire body and overwhelmed his senses. Soon, it overwhelmed his mind. Sooner, he had no mind, no body. He was naught but a stain on the stones.
“You worthless simpletons have no grasp of the true meaning of suffering,” the voice took form in the darkness as a tall mare approached P, who quivered in greater fear than she had never known. Her bravado had abandoned her, replaced with awe-struck eyes and legs that could no longer support her weight.
“The delicate ways to break a mare, drive her to the point of insanity, give her hope only to crush it and leave her a shell of her former self. I am all to familiar with all of them,” dark blue eyes peered down at P, piercing her very soul. “I will show you a true nightmare.”
P’s physical pain melted away, everything about this fear-instilling creature felt so palpable and painful as her voice whipped P’s ears. She gazed up. What S had said was true. Princess Luna was long gone. Now, there was only Nightmare Moon.