Will To Survive

by Zephyr Spark

Part 8 A Way Home

It wasn’t the sound of his tripwire traps, pitfalls, or sore fruit traps that woke up Spike. It was the two, segmented bobbing antennae on a fanged circular head currently jutting into his base’s entrance. Fueled by fear, Spike grabbed his longest spear and in a flash of inspiration, superheated the crystal tip with a flame. Without hesitation, he buried the crystal tip into the monster’s head. He may as well have pricked a dragon’s scales with a toothpick, a burning toothpick, but a toothpick nonetheless. The centipede backed out, dislodging the crystal from its skin.

Suddenly, the fortress was groaning as a powerful force was constricting it from the outside, slowly bending the branches. Holes pierced through his moss, and he saw the centipede’s endless body squeezing his shelter. Sharp tipped legs pierced through the shelter he toiled so hard to build, black lines pierced through the ever-growing holes. Grabbing another spear and heating the tip, Spike jabbed through the holes, causing the body only to flinch ever so slightly. He thrust at anything visible: underbelly, legs, segments, antennae, and possibly even the head. Nothing worked. One by one, his spears failed; crystals broke, shafts snapped in half, none of them capable of stopping this beast. Soon, he had nothing. The slaughter machine shook his fortress, showering debris, mud, and leaves from the ceiling.

Then, he noticed a gap forming in the back of his fortress. Given time, it would crack wide open allowing the brute to enter and finish him off. Or, for him to escape. He could race out of there before the centipede even found it, and then … and then nothing; he couldn’t outrace that demon and the nearest water body was far, far away. Spike narrowed his eyes in thought. Behind his base was a sharp drop. Even if he could escape that way, a long drop thousands of feet below would kill him. Unless, against all odds, he landed on a tree branch. That would break his fall somewhat. At least, it might. From there, he would have to figure out something and face every other monster without a spear or sore fruits: not a very appealing option. His fortress trembled harder. A support stick cracked. Between inevitably dying at the centipede’s fangs or potentially living the drop by falling onto a tree branch without plummeting to his death, the latter option had the distinct possibility to survive, so that was more favorable.

Sheathing two gem daggers, a canteen of water, and a pouch of crystals, Spike eyed the gap and took a deep breath. His shelter groaned, and the gap grew larger, a bit more and he could fit through the hole. Just beyond, he could see the sharp drop and began to seriously question his hastily constructed plan. The hole burst and Spike raced through, just as a fangs burst through the ceiling. Out in the open air, Spike sprinted for the cliff.

Even with his head start, the centipede was closing in. He dared not risk a glance, but he could sense the centipede’s multi-legged body gliding across the ground towards him at a pace he couldn’t hope to beat. His legs worked overtime, his heart pounded through his chest into his ears, his lungs gasped for air. The edge was feet away; the centipede, possibly less. Desperately, Spike leapt over the edge with the sole intent of escape. Fangs snapped, catching him by the thinnest layer of his wonder moss armor, which quickly tore off from Spike’s forward momentum. He escaped. The wind whipped past him as he accelerated to the floor below, his stomach plummeted, and he realized there was a new problem: surviving the fall.

A long, slender brown branch raced towards him. Spike spread out his arms and legs, hoping to slow his fall. He snapped the branch in half with his impact, protected only by his mossy armor, and continued falling. His speed had decreased somewhat after that collision, prompting Spike to spread out his arms and legs once more as a thicker branch appeared. He broke through it again, feeling the sharp sting through his weakened armor. He tried again, uncertain if he could endure another collision. This time, all the air was knocked clean from his lungs, but he stopped.

Wrapping his arms around the branch, his eyes brimmed with bittersweet tears; he was so terrified of the centipede, of nearly falling to his death, but he was so relieved to have survived. He collapsed in exhaustion, needing to catch his breath. His lungs just refused to take in air, remaining corked as he gasped. Collapsing in a heap, Spike steadied his pulse and tried again. Slowly, he began to achieve meager inhales, satisfying his aching body.

He glanced up, finding the branches he snapped in half and the cliff. On top of the cliff far above, he could make out those bobbing antennae. Spike grimaced, hoping the centipede didn’t have some ability that allowed it to follow him to the tree branch. Just being capable of tracking him down wherever he went was bad enough. He turned back to the tree branch and walked to the trunk. He glanced down, and wished he hadn’t. He was so high, higher than he had ever climbed before in his life. Just from this branch, the tree completely eclipsed Celestia’s castle. Climbing down this would take far too long. Not to mention be very unwise. Far, far below, a river composed of dots marched through the trees, swarming over any creature too slow to escape. Spike briefly wondered if those specks could cushion his fall, but didn’t entertain that thought a second longer. He looked outwards beyond the trees. Several meters away, another cliff adjacent to a tree branch beckoned. He glanced around, noticing that several branches were close together. If he was careful, he just might be able to cross the branches to the other side.

First, he rested, gathering up his strength. He sipped some water from his canteen, ate a few gems, and marveled how he survived that fall. He lied back on the trunk, and listened to the forest symphony. His eyelids felt very heavy.

“We’re getting closer!” The knight told his comrades. “Once we’re in range, I will lead five soldiers in a frontal charge. Archers, move into place and wait for my signal. When the second party charges from the rear, that’s your cue to fire.”

The soldiers nodded as they raced across the barren field. Their trained eyes could easily pick out the wizard’s tracks, doubtlessly hampered by containing the princess. Although they could not find her tracks, the knights knew magic users like Arch Mage could lift objects and ponies. If they could free her and receive her magical aid, they would be more than capable of defeating the sinister wizard.

Thirty minutes of crossing branches to adjacent trees had placed him in a moss-covered tree, near the center of the valley. As he reached the center tree’s trunk, he dug in his gemstone daggers and climbed a few feet down to a lower branch, preparing to cross once again. This branch was particularly wide and leafy. Spike proceeded down the branch with caution; he didn’t need another mantis encounter. He reached the midpoint of the branch and was preparing to jump down to another tree branch.

Out of habit, he glanced behind himself. He was glad he did. Darting down the trunk, a green creature descended towards his branch: a rectangular-faced lime green spider, the size of Big Mac, with eight, circular black eyes positioned around its head. Its fangs twiddled. Spike almost reached for his spear when he remembered that he used them all against the centipede. Well, he could still probably ward off the creature with a flame or – it leapt, jumping to an adjacent branch several feet away. From its abdomen, a long thin web attached to the spot where it once stood. Spike considered this spider’s ability, reevaluating his strategy. Even if he could intimidate the creature, it could simply reposition itself and take him by surprise, and Spike couldn’t outrun a creature in the treetops where it could navigate with ease. What now?

Mantis!

The voice startled Spike. Was Sir Knight still watching out for him? What did he mean by mantis? Then, he remembered the mantis’ lesson. Crouching down to blend in with the moss, Spike trembled in the wind, mimicking the rustling leaves. The spider had climbed to his branch and was slowly moving forward. He nearly panicked, fearing the spider could see through his disguise, but calmed himself. If it could fool a mantis, it could fool a spider, hopefully. The spider was now in leaping distance. It stopped. Spike didn’t even blink as the two centered, dark eyes stared through him. Its abdomen touched the ground. Had the arachnid had placed another tether to the bark in preparation for another attack? The uncertainty and the silence was unnerving. Sweat soaked through Spike’s armor as his heart pounded through his chest. Spider fangs flicked and the spider lifted its front legs. It moved, walking straight past him.

SNAP!

Spike turned around at the sudden movement to find the spider dangling in the air, locked in the vice grip of two raptorial limbs, as a mantis mercilessly devoured the creature from its perch on branch jutted out from the main branch. Springing from his place, Spike rushed down the length of the branch away from the monster. His streak of good luck ended as his foot caught on a tree knot and he tumbled off the branch. Falling past the second branch, Spike grabbed a twigged tree limb in one hand, stopping his fall. He gritted his teeth and grasped the skinny branch between his two hands. Spike’s arms ached as he tried to lift his entire body in a chin up. On the branch above the mantis chewed the spider’s head. The drake realized that if he didn’t put distance between himself and that beast before it finished eating, then the spider was only an appetizer and he the main course. With its long legs, the mantis could easily reach the tree branch below and pluck Spike from his branch. No use hiding: the mantis had already seen him when he ran. Finally getting his chin above the branch, Spike hauled his head and arms on top. The branch was to thin and shaky to stand on, so Spike shimmied across keeping his lower body, his feet, and tail dangling countless miles in the air. His palms drenched with perspiration but he couldn’t rush himself, especially when the branch could give way at any second.

Spike heard a terrible sound or rather the absence of a terrible sound. The munching noises stopped. Sure enough, the mantis was forking the final piece of a spider leg into its mouth. It ran its spiky limbs through its mouth, cleaning itself like a cat with its fingered mouthparts. Spike wasn’t even halfway to the main branch. The mantis’ head swiveled. Spike doubled his pace, abandoning caution for speed. Beady eyes peered at the struggling drake, spurring him onwards. Deep down, he already knew he couldn’t escape this time, but he refused to lie down and die. He leapt, grabbing a tendril of moss on the branch and hoisted himself up before dashing away. He risked a glance behind at the mantis. To his surprise, the mantis hadn’t moved from its spot. It just stared at him. Taking advantage of the hesitation, Spike climbed the tree trunk to a higher branch. Breathing heavily, he turned back again. Still, the mantis remained still as a statue.

Spike didn’t understand. Why hadn’t the mantis come after him? It knew he was there. It clearly saw him run away and fall off the branch. The beast had more than enough time to climb down and intercept him. In fact, if it had been hiding on that branch, it must have seen him approaching long before the spider. He was undoubtedly in striking range of those thorny limbs before the arachnid came along. Then, why not catch him the moment he came close?

Suddenly, an illogical suspicion, based purely on the whims of imagination and childish speculation, arose in his mind. Was that mantis the same one he encountered in the sore fruit trees near his cave? She was indeed the same shade of green as Finger-face and the same height, but what truly made Spike consider this was those eyes. Expressionless, but somehow, they still gave him the same look he had witnessed upon escaping her. If this was Finger-face, why was she here? She was supposed to be on the opposite side of Underworld in the tree by the cave. Had she, perhaps, crossed the trees and branches countless miles just to end up here in search of food? Did mantises even exhibit such behavior?

If against all probability this was the same creature he encountered a few days ago, why spare him now? Spike met its eternal gaze. In those limey spheres each with a single, tiny, dark pupil a phenomenon twinkled. Soon, the mantis broke gaze and turned away, lumbering with its wobble-walk towards the tree trunk and climbing out of sight. Returning to his own journey, Spike contemplated what he’d seen in those eyes. Perhaps, those piercing eyes saw a tiny creature terrified and ignorant of the owner’s presence. If Finger-face’s mantis eyes were trained on him could she have recognized the same creature she faced days ago, the same one with an indomitable spirit, terrifying ember breath, and outer shell that blended perfectly into the forest? Did she remember the creature who could have killed her but instead ran away? If she recognized him on that branch, had she left him alone, deciding he was more trouble than he was worth or had she even feared him? No, he didn’t see either of those in her eyes.

Spike crossed four trees still uncertain why she, if his unfounded suspicion was correct and that was Finger-face, had spared him. What did she see that caused her to hesitate? Was it the way he adapted her techniques and blended into the vegetation to hide from the spider? Did she hesitate to fight a creature capable of adapting her skills? Was it the way he helplessly dangled from that tree branch that invoked pity in her? Spike shook his head and hopped to the next tree branch. There was no point asking what she saw when she looked at him. He could never know what that creature was thinking. So, what was he thinking? What did he see when he stared into her eyes? What was that phenomenon in her eyes, absent during their first encounter? He blinked trying to recall as he climbed down to the next tree branch. He reached the branch and took a step forward, and at last he could finally give the phenomenon a name: respect.

When Spike dropped down from the final branch onto the forest floor, the thought he’d kiss the ground in jubilation. Instead, he landed awkwardly on his feet and nearly teetered over before catching his balance. His legs felt fine but achy from over an hour of tree climbing. Still, the aching was passing with every second. Spike glanced behind feeling a sense of pride after coming so far, and turned to the forest ahead.

The jungle was covered in a thick layer of fog. This baffled him for a number of reasons. First off, he hadn’t seen fog anywhere else in Underworld, so why was it here? Was there something creating this fog, unique to this part of the jungle? Secondly, fog shouldn’t be forming several miles underground. By definition, fog was a cloud touching the ground (or maybe he was thinking of mist, Spike wasn’t entirely certain) and to his knowledge clouds shouldn’t exist underground. Then again, neither should undocumented plants or giant insects. Thirdly, and perhaps most importantly, why hadn’t he seen it when he was walking over here? He couldn’t recall seeing a single cloud in all his time crossing trees to reach this side. Even as he dropped to the ground from the final branch, he was somewhat certain the jungle was clear. There definitely wasn’t a layer of fog.

Shadows of nearby trees, mushrooms, clovers, and various forms of vegetation similar to other parts of the forest were faintly visible through the clouds Spike didn’t like the idea of traveling through the smoke if he couldn’t tell where he would end up. He looked around the smog for another way forward and noticed an area, near the right edge where the fog thinned to almost nothing. He was about to walk that way, when he heard something in the midst of the fog. It was fainter than a whisper and more transient than a dream but it existed, and it called to the very depths of his soul, imploring him. He rubbed his ears, but heard it all the same. A single voice not of Sir Knight or that other voice or even of the forest symphony spoke to him from deep within the clouds.

Spike blinked and turned back to the mist, wondering where the sound originated, when he noticed his feet had brought him closer to the fog. He clenched his eyes and rubbed his temples. This wasn’t real. He couldn’t go into the fog. Who knew what kind of monsters waited for him? In any case, he had to keep exploring, find a new base or someway to contact his friends back home. Narrowing his eyes, he turned away when he heard the voice call to him.

The unfamiliar voice had a magnetic pull. Every rational part of his brain screamed this was wrong, dangerous, insane, and struggled to resist, but his heart drew him closer, experiencing calm. Where was he supposed to return?

Home? The word was sweeter to Spike than all the goodies in Sugar Cube Corner. It danced across his ears like a ballad and warmed his body like a cup of hot chocolate after Winter-Wrap Up. It comforted him as though he were already there with Twilight and his friends.

He could no longer ignore the call. His feet carried him forward, and the mist embraced him, piercing through his armor and stroking his scales. Abandoning all reason, Spike approached the voice, which kept calling him through the mist.

The wizard came into view. He was dark as the night, with crimson eyes and a black wooden staff. Sure enough, the princess was there, captured in a magical green bubble prison. Arch Mage must have stopped to rest. The knight motioned to his soldiers, ordering them into position.

Darting through the sparse undergrowth, the knight and his fellow soldiers suck closer. The wizard would sense an arrow coming at his head, so they had to distract him with a frontal and rear assault before the archers could fire. The knight trusted every soldier present like a brother and they him. They would be fighting not only to rescue the princess but to save each other. Soon, they were all in place. Breaking from hiding, the knight led the charge with his sword and shield drawn.

Where had the forest gone? All around him, the mist covered everything. The trees once visible in the shadows had all but vanished, the songs of the forest gradually dwindled into silence; even the forest floor beneath his two feet evaporated, replaced by clouds. He couldn’t even feel the ground anymore. Instead, water droplets suspended him above any sort of floor. More than once, he considered turning back. Still, the voice kept calling him home.

Where was he? His body had all but faded in the fog. The voice grew closer.

Where was he?

Where was he?

His mind grew dimmer, his consciousness fading.

“This is what you want, right? For me to open my heart to you?”

“I want to, believe me. I want to believe there’s more to this world than violence and danger. I want to believe there’s something more than my eyes can see, than my mind can comprehend. I want to believe this isn’t a prison.”

“But I don’t. I can’t.”

“So give me your eyes. Show me what I can’t see.”

“This time, I won’t run away. I’ll face whatever you have to show me, and if I can emerge a stronger dragon then I’ll gladly face it.”

“I’ll open my heart, if you open yours.”

He was everywhere and he was nowhere, everything and nothing. He felt every living thing but himself. The rustling of the leaves, the push and pull tides, trees, sprouts and moss; he was there. He felt every living creature; Big Cow, Pinchy, Dug, Wingster, the centipede, the behemoth, and even the creatures he had yet to meet. So many flickered before his eyes before vanishing, he could hardly comprehend it all. He felt their hunger, their fear, their love, and their dreams. Deep down, he felt their very life forces, something intangible and indescribable, preserving their essence when their bodies decayed. Where did they go? Into the rustling of the leaves, the push and pull tides, trees, sprouts and moss; they were there. Those Diggies had become sprigs of rosemary and seeds soon to grow into fluorescent mushrooms before decaying and becoming centipede hatchlings of a recent centipede mother. Hopper was now a petal on red and white speckled flower larger than the Canterlot Library growing on the forest floor and would return a Speedy racing through the forest and then peaceful lily in a gentle pond.

Nothing truly died in Underworld; the body might perish, but they remained. They existed with dim awareness of this cycle, so although they feared death, not a single creature feared beyond death. Every living thing was tied together in a web of harmony as fellow passengers in the endless labyrinth of Underworld.

The knight grimaced as another ally fell to the wizard’s red lightning. He barely lifted his shield in time to protect himself and two soldiers. The archers had stopped firing; their arrows were turned back on them by unnatural sorcery and pierced their hearts. The soldiers charging from behind were disintegrated in a wave of black magic, leaving skeletal corpses. Only the noble knight and two fellow soldiers remained, and they were still no closer to rescuing the princess who struggled to escape and help her brave warriors.

Arch Mage chortled with savage glee as he sent a green ball of flames at the trio, forcing them to split up. Wordlessly, they charged from every side to overwhelm the sorcerer as they would when sparring a stronger opponent. The soldier rushing from the right narrowly missed with a sword swing as the nimble wizard evaded the strike. With a wave of his staff, he sent the soldier flying over the mountains before crashing into the ground with deafening loudness. The soldier never moved again. The other soldier and Sir Knight struck the mage and buried their swords into his chest and neck. Then, they were stuck. Try as they might, neither could dislodge their sword from the mage who seemed only amused at their efforts. His horn shimmered green and his eyes brimmed with an aura. The knight realized what was happening and shielded his comrade as vicious lightning bolts hammered them from above and blinded them. His shield was warping under the brutal onslaught. Soon, it would shatter. Grabbing his comrade, he leapt away as the shield became charred dust.

The lightning halted. Both warriors gabbed swords from their fallen comrades and charged again. Arch Mage’s magic removed the swords impaling his body. They slid out with hissing sounds of steel biting flesh. The wounds on his body inflicted by those swords vanished as darkness stretched the wizard’s skin over the blows, removing all trace of injury. Arch Mage threw the two swords at the soldiers, which began dueling them of their own accord. Using all his strength, the knight shattered the sword with a mighty swing. The other sword slashed his companion’s flank, creating a shallow wound. The knight quickly shattered the sword and saved his comrade. Before the soldier could utter his thanks, the armor on his body was surrounded with a green aura and constricted, crushing him in his suit of armor. No time to scream.

The knight watched as one by one the soldiers he called friends and brothers fell to this dark magic. He stared at the powerful wizard not filled with fear or truly hatred, but determination. His princess was counting on him. He could not fail. Plucking his friend’s blade, he evaded another bolt of lightning, feinted a charge at Arch Mage before he raced to the bubble. The princess had shown him ways to deal with this kind of sorcery. If he could free his princess and she could lend her magic, this fight was finished. With valor and love, he lunged at the prison as a bolt of lightning soared at his spine.

It was gone. With the transience of a dream, the mist, the voice, and everything had vanished in a split second. Spike was now in the forest once again, somewhere he didn’t recognize. He turned around, wondering if he had walked through the fog, but there wasn’t a single trace of smoke, the cliff where he came from, the titian trees, or the valley. Was it all a dream? He pinched himself and didn’t wake up. Rubbing he head, Spike shrugged and decided this was another Underworld mystery.

Something was different, an inexplicable subtle change in everything. He glanced at the trees still as barky and mossy as ever. Still, he felt different. Clinging to a tree, a green cicada struggled in its brown molt, trying to burst out stronger. Spike’s lips curled into a small smile. He moved north, sensing that his time in Underworld was close to an end. He was going home.

Coming to a clearing, he immediately tensed at a crashing sound. The ground beneath him trembled, and his eyes darted around for the source. Through the trees, he could see the behemoth that chased him days ago. It hadn’t seen him yet. Drawing his gemstone daggers, Spike scurried up a nearby tree clinging to its curling moss tendrils. He nearly lost his grip from those tremors, but he found new energy to endure and climbed with unfamiliar speed. Mounting a branch far off the ground, Spike pondered whether that creature could climb or if it could knock over the tree. Then, he saw bigger concerns. The centipede was back, fleeing from the sound and from the behemoth. Spike wondered how both had reached this side of the forest, but brought his attention to the hairy, scaled colossus thundering after the train with aggressive roars. The centipede was racing to a hole beside the tree roots. It had to return home, to those hatchlings yet to be born.

Diving headfirst into the burrow, Cento’s long multi-legged body retreated to safety. Behemoth stopped long before reaching the hole. Opening its maw, it released a deafening roar. Spike covered his ears, numbed by the thunderous bellow. The sound stopped, and was followed by two much smaller squeaky roars. His eyes went agape, as two pale furred behemoths, no bigger than him, stood beside the titian. The centipede wasn’t the only being with a family to protect. Spike blinked, incredulous. This land tyrant that terrified him was a mother?

The drake studied those little creatures’ chirps, hoping this knowledge could prove useful down the line. They sounded like baby birds, learning to sing. Spike opened his mouth and softly imitated the sound. He was a fairly decent mimic and playing the piano had given him a sharp ear. Unfortunately, his mimicry was too perfect, causing Behemoth to glance at the branches. Spike’s hands nearly moved to cover his mouth before he suppressed the instinct and remained motionless midst the vegetation. He noticed gashes and wounds along Behemoth’s scales and hairy hide. Spike wondered what inflicted those wounds before remembering the centipede. They weren’t too far apart in size; the behemoth was still much larger but the centipede was much longer. Had Cento gone after Behemoth’s offspring and provoked the titian?

Those yellow eyes lost interest in the branch and turned to the little ones. It licked them both before rising to its feet. Lumbering away with a limp, the children danced around their mother in circles with boundless energy. They kept pace and soon all three vanished into the forest. Spike stared at her long after she left, but quickly crossed the tree branches to another tree. He had to put distance between himself and that centipede. About ten trees later, Spike was a good mile or two from the burrow. He sighed in relief. From his branch, he reflected on Cento and Behemoth.

Neither one of these creatures was slaughtering or terrorizing fellow Underworlders for fun. They were protecting their families or keeping themselves alive to protect their families. There were no monsters; just creatures protecting what mattered most to them. He rested on the branch. High above, he could see another cicada molting on the trunk. This one had emerged from its brown, hollow shell as a vibrant, green black-eyed adult with folded wings. It clutched its hollowed shell with two appendages similar to mantis raptorial limbs and four smaller legslegs, and the shell clutched the bark with raptorial limbs and four legs. Shaking its wings, Shed took flight and soared into the sky. Spike crossed the tree branches, careful not to dislodge the sprouts or tread on a flower.

Then he heard another noise. It sounded like buzzing, several wings carrying creatures through the air. He glanced for the source and discerned it on a distant tree, hidden from his sight. From his distance, he could see several yellow and black shapes, small from this distance, darting around the tree. He didn’t want to run into bees, so he decided to move away. Something stopped him. Spike felt drawn to the tree by a distant memory and a closer memory. Then his logic began to side with his heart. Wouldn’t it make sense to scout out the area and find out what was making that sound? Shouldn’t he learn what else lived in this forest? He wouldn’t have to find out the hard way so long as he kept his distance from the sound.

Spike crossed the tree branches towards the sound. Peering across a small break in the tree, he noticed an unusual shape on a tree, or rather in the bark of a tree. In a large gap, hundreds of thousands of yellow and black striped wasps his size shifted around a brown structure the size of a Manehatten tower. The structure looked papery brown and was covered in countless hexagonal holes, some full of a snowy, white substance, others a liquidy mysterious residue, and the rest empty, arranged in perfect symmetrical pattern. He found a giant wasps nest. Spike tried to turn and run when he remembered. The memory so faint finally re-emerged in full force. He was a little drake, sniffing as filly Twilight rubbed medicine dabbed in a cotton swab on sweltering sting.

“Well, what did you expect? You got too close to the nest. When paper wasps feel threatened, they sting. Now sit still.”

These were paper wasps. Spike’s eyes widened with realization. Paper wasps made their nests by mixing bark with salvia to produce the paper substance of their nests. What had he been looking for since he fell down here? What did he need to contact Princess Celestia? What could save him? Paper! Well, not exactly paper, but those wasps produced a substance similar to paper. He was confident it could work. He just had to get a handful of their nest, write a message to Celestia, and he’d be home by tomorrow.

He hit his first roadblock. On the floor, some ten feet from the nest a cricket took a step to far. A wasp barreled towards it, grasping the poor soul with its mandibles. The cricket struggled, it kicked and tried to jump, but the moment the wasp sunk its stinger into its spine the battle was over. Still keeping the cricket in its jaws, the wasp hurried back to the nest with fresh meat for the hive. It all happened in seconds. Several wasps were returning with grasshoppers, cockroaches, and all manner of creatures before venturing out once more. What was he thinking? How was he even going to get near that thing without becoming dinner? For now, Spike retreated to plan, walking across the branches and coming to the forest floor.

He ended up at another gem quarry. The green gems littered the ground. Spike paced frantically, trying and failing to solve his problem. He’d gone over a few solutions already with little success. He considered camouflaging with the tree and sneaking in close to remove some of the nest, but realized even if he could climb up without being noticed the wasps would most certainly notice him the second he began cutting off their nest. He pondered the possibility of waiting until they fell asleep, but worried they would destroy him the second he touched their nest. Spike groaned and chucked a pebble into the forest. He sensed the armored knight approaching and turned to find Sir Knight, still obscured in the darkness.

“You’ve been watching me, right?” Spike addressed the knight, “You know what I want to do?”

“Spike,” the knight’s voice made Spike stand up straight, “you can’t take on an entire army by yourself.”

“Alright then, you, help me.”

“Yes, two against one-hundred, maybe even one-thousand or one-million. That certainly would even the odds,” sarcasm dripped on his voice.

“I thought you were a knight! You should be able to even the odds by yourself. Or was everything you claimed just big talk?”

“I am a knight, but you’re not. You won’t stand a chance against that horde.”

“I have to try.”

“And how are you going to get home if you’re dead?”

“If I’m not with Twilight, I might as well be dead!”

“…”

“I’m sorry. I have seen the miracle and it’s incredible, but I don’t belong here. Please, try to understand. I need to get back home.”

“…”

“And I get how this hurts. You’ve been alone and finally meet someone.” Spike gestured to himself, “Somehow they survived and understood this world, but instead of joining you as a friend, they just want to go home. I know how hard it is to finally have someone only to lose them. But I have to go home. I just can’t stay with you, Sir Knight.”

The knight was silent.

“If you’re not going to help me, then get out of my way.”

“Alright, you want to take a piece of the wasp nest? Go ahead. But don’t expect the wasps will let you within 50 feet of their nest.”

“And what would you suggest, O great knight?” Spike sarcastically snarled. “I don’t exactly have any friends down here.”

“If you don’t have friends, then how about enemies?” The knight turned to leave, but Spike rushed in front of him, blocking his path.

“So you give me advice to survive, but you won’t help me yourself. Why? I thought you were a brave knight, not some hypocrite.”

“That’s all I can do, little drake. I don’t have the ability to do anything but talk to you.”

“What do you mean?”

Spike blinked and the knight was behind him, without a sound or a movement. The knight retired to the forest, but the drake wasn’t satisfied with the answer.

Spike called out to him once again, “Who are you? Are you really a knight?”

The knight stopped at the verge of the forest. Silently, he stood staring into the trees for what felt like hours. At last, he glanced over his shoulder, “Yes, I served a princess, a long time ago.”

“You mean Princess Celestia? But you said you fought in a war. The last war in Equestria was over the Crystal Empire. That was,” Spike pondered a moment, “a thousand years ago. You can’t be that old.” At last, Spike recognized Sir Knight’s figure; the spiny back, scaly body, reptilian tail, and claws of a dragon. Dragons never served in Celestia’s army. At least, he didn’t think so. In a time long ago, perhaps … But he’d never heard of a Sir Knight. Twilight surely would have studied an Equestrian dragon knight at some point, but in all her studies she never once mentioned such a being. Princess Celestia or Luna could surely recall such a hero of old and would have talked about his services. Just because they and the history books never mentioned him didn’t mean he couldn’t exist.

“How did you end up here?” The figure continued walking until he vanished from sight, the darkness enveloping him completely. He left without a sound, a footprint, or any trace of existence. “Are you a ghost?”

Spike received no answer but the rustling of the wind. He stared where the enigmatic figure vanished. Deep down, he sensed this would be their last encounter. Soon, the drake would have a piece of the nest and return home, surrounded by his family. Even though the knight had left, Spike felt an ache in his heart. Did he still have someone to come home to? Or had they given up centuries ago? Did he really want a friend down here as Spike suspected? Or was he sincerely hoping Spike would return home? Who was he? So many questions plagued Spike’s head as he searched for shelter. The phantom continued to haunt Spike’s mind long after he settled down in a cave. As he fell into slumber, he tried to piece the knight’s legacy together: who was this unsung hero of Equestria?

The knight fell to his knees, under the wizard’s assaults. His entire body screamed with pain as red lightning scoured his armor, but he refused to let Arch Mage hear his cries. He tried to stand but another bolt of lightning knocked him over. Trapped in a magical bubble and drained of her powers, the princess could only watch in horror as her noble knight was thrown about like a rag doll.

“Coward!” The knight spat at his foe. “You won’t get away with this!”

The black stallion smirked, revealing dagger teeth. He chuckled, “I already have. Your fellow soldiers have fallen, you are beaten, the princess and soon the kingdom will be mine.” He turned to the princess, trapped in her black transparent bubble and tapped a hoof near her chin, “And you will make a wonderful pet once I’ve taken your powers for myself.”

“You can’t take my powers you fool,” the princess growled, hoping to buy her knight time. “A princess can only give her powers of her own free will and I’ll never give you a sliver of my magic.”

“Oh, I think you’ll find it easy to relieve your powers. After all,” the tyrant turned to the feeble knight and then glanced at her kingdom in the distance, “you have so many subjects counting on you to protect them and my soldiers are so eager to plunder your lands.”

“My knights will never fall to you,” she scowled.

“Is that so? Well, I better withdraw and let you go. Whatever shall I do against your powerful knights?” The wizard cackled as he surveyed the princess soldiers that had already fallen to his magic and the weakened champion, “Take a good look ‘your majesty.’ Your soldiers have fallen, your greatest hero is done for, your kingdom is weak, and no one is coming to save you. Here you cling to hope that no longer exists, to a petty system that allows the weak to prosper and hamper the strong, to pathetic ideals of harmony and loyalty to all creatures, and look what it’s done for you.”

The wizard lifted his staff, more red lightning poured from clouds high above, and aimed it at the knight sending more waves of pain coursing through the knight as his armor roasted with the heat. His body trembled and then stopped all noticeable movement. The knight lifted his head slowly, vision blurring as Emperor Arch Mage’s staff rose once again. He clenched his sword, refusing to surrender.

“It’s a new day for Equestria, one that I’m afraid you won’t live to see,” the wizard’s red eyes gleamed as his plans came to fruition. “But don’t worry. I found just the place for you in my new kingdom. He thrust the staff into the ground, cracks quickly spread from the spot towards the immobile knight. “The new world will be built on your remains.”

The earth opened and swallowed him whole. He plunged into the depths of darkness, away from sight and from everything he knew and loved. As he fell, as his life began to dim, he heard his princess scream his name.

“Sir Knight!”