> Will To Survive
>  by Zephyr Spark
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Part 1 Memories
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	The little purple dragon flashed his plastic stick as a warrior of old. He walked purposefully on his chubby legs towards the purple unicorn, who watched amused. The drake withdrew his ancient weapon and fell to one knee, placing his hand over his heart and bowing.

“Princess Twilight,” the dragon addressed her with reverence, “I have beaten all your captors and found you at last.”

The filly grinned at him before remembering her part and adjusting her plastic crown. Composing herself with the elegance embodied only by Princess Celestia, she smiled at the dragon, “Noble knight, I am grateful to see you once again. I thank you for your service.”

He extended a clawed hand and she took it, as he led her back to their kingdom, a pillow fortress. 

Ever since Shining left to train at the royal guard, Twilight had been rather despondent. Noticing her unhappiness at losing her brother and playmate, Spike personally stepped in to cheer her up. He convinced her to play pretend like children, loving the present with happy abandon. Whether it was the extent Spike went to entertain her, the freedom to act like a child, or even pretending she was a princess, Twilight was enjoying every moment.

“Twilight, Spike! It’s time for dinner!” Twilight Velvet’s voice sounded from the kitchen.

Twilight removed her crown and turned to Spike, “Thanks for doing this, Spike. It’s been so much fun.”

To her surprise, Spike bowed once again, “Anything for you, your majesty.”

She chuckled then dropped into a fit of laughter, which Spike soon joined. They fell on the floor guffawing. When the laughter subsided, Twilight laid on the floor gazing upon the drake. She couldn’t help smiling.

“Hey Spike,” she tapped her fore hooves nervously, “maybe we could do this again sometime?”

“Anything for you, Twilight,” Spike smiled as they stood back up.

“Twilight! I said it’s time for dinner!” 

“We’re coming, mom!” Twilight trotted to the door.

She turned around, but Spike was gone.

“Spike?” She searched the room for her friend.

“Twilight!” The shouting grew.

“Spike, where are you?” She became worried. “This isn’t funny.”

“Twilight!” Her mother’s voice became deeper, shriller.

“Spike, answer me!” She shouted.

“TWILIGHT, HELP ME!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Screaming. Screaming? Why screaming? Who? Spike!

Twilight Sparkle’s head jerked from the chair as Spike’s pained shrieks filled the Canterlot hospital. She and her six friends, woken by the tumult, rose to their hooves and raced to his room, not caring how loudly their hooves slammed on the floor tiles. Barging through the door, they saw him writhing in his bed, eyes clenched wet with tears and teeth gnashing.

“Spike!” Twilight gripped the squirming little dragon’s shoulders, trying to wake him up.

Her grip only made the trembling dragon howl, with animalistic fear. A nurse and doctor rushed through the doors, shoving five of the friends aside, all except the loyal alicorn. The nurse’s horn shimmered with a blue aura as she pinned the dragon to the bed. The doctor pressed a needle into Spike’s arm. The moment the needle poked through Spike’s arm, he screamed more loudly than he ever had before. As the sedation took effect, he finally opened his eyes to see his greatest friend and hero before him. Spike lifted a trembling hand towards her, eyes wide with apprehension. Twilight placed her hoof into his hand, and Spike nearly crushed it in his grip. Eyes fluttered and eventually closed like a solemn tomb as he slipped into restless sleep, knowing he was not alone.

The doctor and nurse suggested Twilight remain with Spike for the rest of the evening to keep him calm. Her friends stayed beside her silent vigil, as she caressed her precious little friend’s head. Hours passed and they remained by his side, silent and vigilant statues. One of the statues tired of silently watching and spoke.

“This is the fifth time he’s done this just today,” Rarity’s blue eyes stared at Spike sleeping uneasily. “What happened those five days he was missing?”

None of them had an answer. None of them knew what happened to Spike. All they knew was he disappeared ten days ago in the Everfree Forest. After five days, Princess Celestia notified Twilight that she finally discovered Spike had fallen deep within the earth and was in very immediate peril. With Princess Luna and Princess Cadence, they carefully drilled through the rock layers several hundred thousand feet, and found him lying on the ground in a terrible state near death, covered with cuts, grime, and practically immobile. Three days later, he woke up in Canterlot Hospital, surrounded by his friends. Twilight embraced her long-lost family member with tears, swearing she would never lose him again. 

Yet, this was no happy ending. Spike was sick. Not with a disease, but with some unfathomable, lingering affliction. He would seldom sleep and would barely eat, he would angrily lash out at his friends, and he would sob at the strangest provocations. What little sleep the dragon found was punctuated by screams and plagued with torments. His behavior was erratic, unstable. The needle, however, constantly made him shriek.

Every one of them wanted to help their friend, but how could they when none of them knew what was upsetting him? They could only gaze at the little drake, knowing he and they would not rest well tonight.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As the morning light burst through the window, the six friends remained by Spike’s side. The drake had woken up groggily and wordlessly. He met Twilight’s eyes for a full minute, before his eyes drifted to the white, square tiled ceiling above. His eyes were open but may as well have been in another world. 

A cream unicorn bearing a clipboard and a white nurse hat with a red cross entered through the doors. The nurse smiled at the little dragon, “Well Mr. Spike, it seems you’ve made a full recovery. How are you feeling?”

“Great,” he answered half-heartedly, failing to replicate the nurse’s smile. 

The nurse frowned for a moment but decided not to press the issue. She turned her gaze to the purple alicorn, who she realized had stayed by Spike’s side all night.

“We’ve run tests to see if he’s developed any lingering illnesses,” the nurse explained. “He seems physically healthy. I just need you to sign some release papers and you can take him home.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Twilight dipped her head and slowly slipped her hoof out of Spike’s grasp. His eyes grew wide and his lips quivered; his body trembled, as the emotional tremors grew dangerously violent. Twilight feared he would have another breakdown. Before he could say a word, a white hoof was thrust into his claws and another white hoof stroked his head, pacifying the eruption. Spike’s green eyes turned to see that lovely white unicorn, gazing at him with calm reassurance. His tense body began to relax as he gripped Rarity’s hoof with dwindling apprehension. Twilight spared Rarity and thankful smile and followed the nurse out the door, leaving Spike surrounded by their friends yet still alone. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After lengthy procedures, Spike was released from the hospital around 12:00 pm. Still slightly feeble, Spike stumbled a few steps out of the door before a violet aura surrounded him, lifting him onto Twilight’s back. He ran his claws through her silky, purple mane, reminding himself she was real. Gripping her fur tightly, he rested his head on the back of her neck. His eyelids felt so heavy, but he dared not sleep, fearing the nightmares.

The trip back to Ponyville was fairly uneventful for Spike. Several ponies greeted him, welcoming him home from Big Macintosh to Sweetie Belle to Cheerilee to Applebloom to Octavia to Scootaloo to – actually he was not completely sure who else greeted him. Yes, there were many other ponies welcoming him home but after a while, he just numbly went through the motions. Smile. Say hello. And walk on. 

“Hey, Spike,” Pinkie Pie’s voice broke through his silent thoughts, “how about we throw you a welcome home party? If you give me a little time, I could have all of Ponyville celebrating.”

Spike’s head shook numbly, before returning to rest back on Twilight’s neck. 

“But I –.”

“Sorry, Pinkie.” Twilight said, “I don’t think Spike’s up for a party right now.”

Pinkie Pie’s mane deflated, likely at his brusque response and Twilight’s statement, but Spike could not find it in himself to care. He did care about his friend’s feelings; he knew he did, but he lacked the stamina to act on that knowledge. The rhythm of Twilight’s hooves on the grass was a mesmerizing metronome, making him drowsier by the second. Her swaying body was rocking him to empty sleep. In the distance, the crystal castle was approaching, though it was growing blurry.

Before the darkness overtook him, Spike heard a gentle voice, “It’s alright, Spike. I’ll still be here when you wake up.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There were no dreams. No pain, but no life. Spike stared at the ceiling, vaguely aware of Starlight Glimmer and Twilight Sparkle resting nearby, and knowing the rest of his friends were nearby in the castle having offered to stay for moral support. 

Carefully slipping past the two out the tall white door, he made his way through the dark hallways. He had no destination in mind; he just wanted to keep walking. Soon, he arrived at the living room. He stared at the living room table and chairs. The chairs were dark brown, sturdy and the table matched their construction perfectly. Twilight was a perfectionist and Rarity always had an eye for interior design.

Noticing something on the table counter, he rose up to the chair and took a closer look. There was a document with his name, listing his various ailments. He studied it, hoping to find … something, he wasn’t sure what. He was thoroughly disappointed. Setting the document aside, he noticed another piece of paper beneath. Intrigued, his head unconsciously tilted as he read.

There were various names of doctors listed, none of whom Spike knew, and information to contact each. Beside each doctor’s name an address, qualifications, previous experience, patient satisfaction ratings, and fields of expertise. The dragon frowned. Why was this here? Then, he looked back at the other document, all about him. His subconscious quickly jumped to a conclusion. Twilight must have thought something was wrong with him, that he was insane. 

He heard a noise from behind him. Instinctively, he stood still.

“Spike? I thought you were asleep?” He sensed Rainbow Dash rubbing her eyes as she approached him. When he did not respond, she glanced to the table and noticed the documents, “What’re you looking at?”

“I was hoping you could tell me,” he turned on the pegasus sharply, “why does Twilight need to send me to a nut house?”

Rainbow Dash blinked, “What are you talking about?”

Spike shoved the paper in her face, “This! What is this for?”

Rainbow Dash backed up, and stared at Spike, “I’ve never seen that before. What is it?”

Spike heard more hoof steps, and from the dark hallway, he discerned the shapes of Applejack, Rarity, Fluttershy, and Pinkie Pie approaching. They were undoubtedly woken by his outburst. Soon, they entered the room, asking what was wrong. There were more. He narrowed his eyes.

“I know you’re there, Starlight,” he turned to the hallway behind him. Slowly, the pink unicorn emerged from the darkness and tried to smile to show her good intentions. Spike kept his eyes trained on her, strangling her smile.

Lifting the paper, he pointed at it with one claw, “Can you explain this?”

Her eyes flickered a moment, her mouth trembled. That was all Spike needed to know she had an answer.

Eventually, Starlight sighed, “Twilight is worried for you, we all are. You’ve been screaming for nights, unsettled, violent even, and we just wanted to help. Twilight talked to the nurse and she suggested sending you to a doctor for treatment. But I swear, we have no intention of sending you away permanently”

“A doctor?” Spike gritted his teeth. “Is this true, Twilight?”

To any untrained eye, the darkness moved a moment. To Spike, the purple alicorn cringed, giving away her position. He knew her all too well. Spike stared at the space. Soon, Twilight stepped out of the shadows towards Spike.

“Yes,” she nodded, “I wanted to break it to you slowly, but –.”

“But what?” Spike snapped, “Were you afraid I would put up a fight before I let you send me to some quack?”

Unaccustomed to this harsh treatment, Twilight blinked, her eyes growing moist. That was all it took to make Spike stop. What was he doing? This wasn’t him. Spike felt a lump in his throat. Clenching his fists, he inhaled through his nose and exhaled through his mouth, steadying his pulse. 

“I’m sorry, Twilight,” Spike turned around, avoiding their eyes. He placed his claws on the table, dropping the paper back to its place. He studied the wooden table surface, absentmindedly. He pursed his lips, trying to find a way to make her understand.

Running a finger over the wood, he whispered, “I’m just not ready to talk about it.”

The memories began trickling through, like water leaking from holes in a dam. He kept his eyes open, taking in his current surroundings, but this world was close to melting away before his eyes. Something on his shoulder. He tensed up, about to spring away, before he saw Twilight recoiling from his movement. He relaxed his breathing, trying to loosen his muscle tension. She was here now. He was safe. But being safe wasn’t enough. His friends stared at him, showing more love in their eyes than he felt the right to; their eyes screamed their devotion and sympathy.

“Spike,” Twilight sternly gazed at him with unmoving resolve. He stood obediently at attention. “You’ve clearly been through a traumatic experience. You aren’t going to start getting better unless you tell some pony what happened to you.”

“It wasn’t just what happened to me,” Spike sniffed, as the memories returned in full force. “It’s what I –.”

They all looked at him expectantly. His chest grew tight. His body trembled. His hands grew damp with sweat. His eyes flashed with pain.

“It's what I-,” he could no longer suppress the memories. Twilight had her hooves around him in a second. He gripped her fur, pressing his teary eyes into her chest. Gently, she stoked his head, rocking like a boat on the waves.

“Spike, I know you’re scared of what you had to endure, but if you just share with us, I promise we could help you.” Breaking away from the embrace while keeping her hooves in his claws, Spike looked into Twilight’s purple eyes. He could trust her; he knew that. There was no stopping the memories now.

“Alright,” he nodded, with a trembling body. “I’ll tell you all what happened.”

The seven friends gathered around him, sitting down on the floor. He gazed at each one, took a deep breath, and spoke, “But I need you to promise me that you’ll believe me, no matter how strange it sounds.”

One by one, his friends nodded. Spike closed his eyes, and the memories poured forth like a flood. Unwillingly, he relived those events in vivid detail.

> Part 2 Descent
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Spike gazed upon the tree of harmony. He couldn’t see why Twilight was so worried about it; the tree seemed perfectly fine to him. It still had its luster, and still bloomed gracefully. Well, at least Twilight trusted him enough to enter the forest by himself, albeit in broad daylight with a distress flare. It was a huge step up for the dragon, proving to Twilight that he was indeed capable and independent.

Circling the tree, he could find no imperfections or blemishes indicating the tree decaying. Every part of it was snowy white, glowing with a celestial aura. If anything, it seemed more powerful and vigorous than ever. He shrugged. Twilight could be paranoid, but he knew she meant well. 

He scanned the checklist she had given him. First item on the list was inspecting the tree’s bark. Far as he could see, the tree was perfectly healthy. No pests dared to touch this sacred plant; no creatures would venture near it; no weeds dare ensnare the tree. It was still the healthy tree they all knew, it was fine now, and it would still probably be fine in fifty years. Nodding, he placed a check mark in the box. 

Next, he glanced at the leaves. They were in the exact same status as the bark: still just as shining and elegant. Honestly, it didn’t seem to have changed significantly since they last saw it. Another checkmark. And so it went, inspecting some random aspect of the tree and check marking. It went on for a good thirty minutes. Spike silently wished Twilight wasn’t so thorough in her lists.

Final item on the list: inspect the surrounding vegetation. He swiveled his head left then right. Not much actually grew beside the tree. Plants also seemed to give it a fairly wide berth. Well, that made it easier for him. He checked that box. He grinned. Everything was fine. Placing the parchment and quill into his backpack on the ground, he stretched. Fists and arms extended upwards as he bent his spine backwards. Snapping back, he felt a wonderfully numbing, lightheaded sensation. As the sensation faded, he grabbed a strap of his backpack and swung it onto his back, turning to walk away.

The ground beneath him began to shake, staggering him. He maintained his balance but the tremors grew. Spike tried to remember what Twilight said to do in the event of an earthquake, thanking her paranoia and preparation for practically any natural catastrophe. He dropped to his hands and knees so the tremors could not knock him over. He covered his head and neck with his hands, protecting himself from any debris. Sooner or later the quake would pass and he could move, until then the ground howled like a pack of ravenous timber wolves.

In the midst of the shaking, he heard a strange cracking, crumbling noise. Spike’s eyes darted to the source of the sound. His heart skipped a beat as he saw hairline fractures forming on the ground. Exacerbated by the tremors, they extended erratically towards him like branching tree roots splitting the ground. He tried to crawl away, but the rumblings left him completely disoriented, incapable of moving a foot without stumbling. Meanwhile, the fracturing earth surged towards him. It easily overtook him.

Before he could blink, the ground beneath him vanished. He was falling. Falling through darkness. Soon, the light above him vanished as well. It was only a distant speck when the earth rearranged itself, filling the hole where he had fallen by shifting the surface. Then the only things Spike knew were earthy, cold darkness and falling.

The wind brushed past his scales and his eyes, making them water. He wanted to scream “Twilight! Help me!” But had lost his voice. His heart summersaulted with his stomach in midair as he descended faster and faster. He groped in the darkness for some kind of foothold with no avail. Even if he had found something, the velocity would dislocate his arm. He hyperventilated, dreading his inevitable demise.

But then, there was light. To his sides, bright white lines of webbing shone with an aquamarine green enveloping a white core. Beneath him, a vast something glowed a bright blue. He peered more closely through his tumbling. The surface below him was rippling, shifting with a unique rhythm. It was a pool of water! He was saved! The water would lessen his impact and allow him to survive. His happy thoughts vanished when he realized hitting water with this speed at this height, would be the equivalent to hitting a wall of solid concrete. He clenched his eyes shut, inhaled sharply, holding his breath, and braced his entire body, as the sound of waves grew closer and closer.

He slammed into the water, feeling it smack his scales with ferocity. The liquid prison surrounded him as he continued descending through the abyss. Slowly, he stopped and began rising, his weight pulling him to the surface. Breaking through, his lungs tried to refuel, only to find he could not breathe. His claws grasped his throat and stomach trying to force air into them. In desperation, he tore off his backpack letting it sink, dimly hoping his extrication might enable him to breathe. It was no use. Behind him a small wave, knocked him under, salty liquid flooded his nose and mouth. His lungs burned; his body screamed for him to swim. But how could he swim if he couldn’t even breathe? The waves mercilessly battered him, denying him any respite. Through his eyes, he could perceive the watery tomb rapidly encasing him, but even that was rapidly fading. 

His eyes flickered, his body was dangerously close to submitting. Every muscle groaned in agony. Memories passed by in his mind before dying. Voices reminded him of happier times, as those he loved began to fade.

	“Mom, Dad, I’d like you to meet my new friend, Spike.” “My brave hero.” “Well, what did you expect? You got too close to the nest.” “Dear Princess Celestia …” “Welcome to Ponyville.” “We’re the Apple family.” “Thanks for your help today, Spikey-Wikey.” “Whoa, there, lover boy.” “Huffy, the magic dragon.” “Why, Spike. This is the most selfless, wonderful thing anyone has ever done for me.” “Happy Birthday, Spike!” “Oh, that reminds me, the Cakes have something baked for you!” “No one could ever replace you, Spike.” “You know something, Spike? You’re actually pretty awesome!” “A fear that will never come to pass. I’m never gonna send you away.” “Spike, take the crystal heart!” “This calls for a party!” “Oh my, well, umm, I’m glad you’re my friend, Spike.” “I’m just scared about meeting him again. I mean we haven’t spoken in years.” “That’s why he’s a hero to the Crystal Empire.” “Spike the dragon lord, huh? Has a nice ring to it.” “Don’t ever forget Spike, you’re my number one assistant. And my best friend.” 

… Get up.

Life returned to Spike’s eyes. He struggled to the surface, still uselessly gasping for air. He came close to going under once again, but refused to yield. Rising above the waves once more, he expunged what water he could from his lungs. The dragon shifted his head in the seemingly vast ocean, until he spotted a distant patch of land; a white, sandy beach in the midst of the water that vanished into a forest of gargantuan plants, many shimmering white at the center while surrounded by an aura of varying colors. It was several miles away. Spike had no hope possibly swimming to it in this condition. He racked his brain for a solution, when the pushing and pulling currents submerged him. 

His consciousness vanished, extinguishing his immediate awareness of everything. Limbs moved, treading through the water. Not moving towards the island but to another part of the water. Couldn’t see who, but bigger than him, with claws and scales. Edging him on, while guiding his movements. Island no longer far. Came closer. Closer. It here. Sand beneath feet, waters shallow. Took steps onto sand. Going to live. Vision going. Thanks. So tired. Fell onto sand. Eyes closed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The knight knelt before his princess, placing his fist over his heart, helmet cradled in the other arm. He glanced up and realized the princess was not looking at him. Her gaze focused out the castle window, to her subjects below.

“Milady,” the knight’s weathered voice broke through the princess’ ruminations. 

Despite his youth, he had seen many a war in his time. He could only pray the peace would last under her majesty’s rule. She was undoubtedly the most beautiful, wise ruler to ever grace the land. He truly loved her with all his heart, and was willing to lay his life down for her, who gave him a family and a home. 

The knight had fought in her name to maintain order and peace against the villainous fiends plaguing Equestria, leading the princess’ forces to war. None could deny that through his leadership and swordsmanship, good triumphed. When she was held captive by a manticore that none could slay, he bravely bested the beast and rescued her. Yet everything he could do, came from her magical aid and wisdom.

Noticing her brooding, his brow arched with concern.

“Forgive me,” the princess smiled at her loyal knight. She rose from her throne and trotted over to him, motioning for him to stand at ease.

Hesitantly, the knight obeyed. The lovely princess trotted across the white palace tiles to the balcony, overlooking her citizens going about their daily lives. The knight followed her dutifully; aware she had something to speak.

“I’m frightened,” the princess stared at her kingdom. “Even with my brother missing, you’ve managed to defeat all of our foes on your own, but I fear this peace may be transient.”

“Milady, I have dedicated my life to serving you and you to your subjects. Everything we have done and accomplished was through each other,” the knight confidently smiled. “Should another threat arise, we will overcome it as we always have: together.”

The princess turned to her noble knight, her lips turned into a smile of her own. She giggled, making the knight blink perplexed.

“Milady?” The knight frowned.

“Oh, it’s nothing.” She waved away his frown, “I just can’t believe how much you’ve grown. You’re not that little child I took in so many years ago. You have become a noble, brave hero, a partner, a friend.”

The knight blushed under her praise, feeling unworthy of such praise. Coming from the princess herself, this adulation was overwhelmingly pleasing. It pleased him not because she was ruler of the land, but because she too was his closest friend, his hero. He felt so validated knowing she valued everything he did for her. He felt proud knowing she saw him not as a slave or even a servant but a partner. 

“Thank you, milady,” he bowed, trying to think how to respond. “You know you’ve come a long way too. All the years seem to magnify your strength, wisdom, and beauty.”

The princess gave a very unroyal chuckle, “Oh, you’re too much!”

“I mean it,” the knight insisted. “When the kingdom needed leadership, you not only rose to the challenge but exceeded all expectations. Thanks to you, our nation is flourishing; ponies no longer starve, businesses are prosperous, and the nation is enjoying a time of peace. Yes, you’ve stumbled along the way, but you never gave up despite the odds. And somehow, through all of that, you found the time to raise me.”

The princess’ cheeks grew red under the knight’s flowing praises. Politely, she nodded her thanks and met her dear friend’s emerald eyes. Many had questioned or directly opposed her decision adopt the orphan, but he had proven his mettle time and time again. She could ask for no better brother, son, knight, or comrade. 

A knock on the door, and the two broke apart, remembering their duties. The princess returned to her throne, and her knight took place nearby, standing at attention.

“Enter,” the princess’s voice rang through the chambers. A mare dressed in a courtier’s robes opened the massive doors and knelt before the princess.

“Your highness,” the mare spoke, “the Emperor Arch Mage has arrived. He awaits your presence in the council chamber to negotiate a peace treaty.”

“Thank you,” the princess answered without any satisfaction, “tell him I will be there shortly.”

The mare nodded and left the room, bowing once more at the exit. The knight turned to the princess. Her hoof rubbed her chin, uncertainly. Her eyes narrowed.

“The Emperor’s troops have been diminished, his magic has weakened.” The knight reminded her of her victory, “He has nothing that can hurt you.”

“Nothing that we can see,” the princess frowned. She rose from her throne and left the chamber, her knight loyally following her every step.
> Part 3 Not Alone Down Here
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Before Spike’s eyes opened, the first sensation to hit him was aching hunger. The second was a light, feathery touch on his back, tickling him. He groaned, voice heavy and weak. Waves of enfeebling exhaustion wracked his body. He could not so much as cough. In the middle of his foggy vision, a brown shape darted away in to the misty jungle. The tickling on his back left with it.

Every muscle groaned in protest, anticipating his movement. On all fours, Spike dragged himself across the sand where the shape had vanished, ignoring the ever growing pain. The gravel scratched his stomach, clinging to him and weighing him down like miniscule parasites. Stumbling along, his movements sapped his already diminished strength. He collapsed onto the lonely shore, surrounded by this terrible sand. It was coarse, like sitting on a bed of needles. But it was a bed, nonetheless; one that wrapped him in its vice grip. His eyes grew weary, his already blurred vision fading.

He saw them. Standing where the sand merged into forest were Twilight, Rarity, Applejack, Pinkie Pie, Rainbow Dash, Fluttershy, Shining Armor, Cadence, Night Light, Twilight Velvet, Applebloom, Sweetie Belle, Scootaloo, Princess Celesta, Princess Luna, Moondancer, Ember, and so many more fading as soon as they appeared. Each stared at him with vacant expressions, emotionless statues. Resisting any longer would be futile. His face sank into the sand. Yet amidst the figures, another stepped forward, outshining the rest. He stared at Spike with accusing eyes, as though giving up now would be a crime. A limb rose and gestured to the lush vegetation.

Time to move.

Spike’s nose twitched, meager strength returned to his body. Using what little wisps of power he had, the little dragon rose from the ground once more and crawled towards the forest, towards the already fading figure. The sand clung to him with every step, deterring his advances but no longer capable of halting him. He finally escaped the sandy tomb and entered the shimmering, vibrant catacombs of forest.

The sand beneath him became muddy, brown soil, littered with twisting roots, plant debris, and lead litter. His hands shifted through the dirt, stumbling through the barely lit gloom, which concealed everything visible to his weakened eyes. 

The aching intensified its grip. Spike’s hand was incapable of rubbing his empty stomach. His four limbs worked their way past the tall shapes before him. Some extended without end while others taunted him with a fluorescent purple or green glow. They seemed to anticipate his inevitable demise with relish. Under their non-existent gaze, he felt emptier.

Where was the dirt? Now, all his hands felt was something hard, rocky. Collapsing to his heavy, empty stomach, he sniffed the stone his left hand encountered. It smelled like a gem! His tongue snaked out of his jaws towards the stone, licking the object. He had no doubt; he had found food. Wrapping around the stone, his tongue dragged the rock to his agape jaws. His strength weak; he nibbled the rock. As the small pieces slid down his throat, his strength began to return. Soon, he was chewing, no longer nibbling, and then, he was standing. His eyes finally adjusted to the darkness and recognized the tantalizing gem field before him. He ate his fill.

He rose to his feet, observing this world he fell into. Where darkness should have engulfed the world, viridescent luminescence pierced through the haze, illuminating some vegetation and outlining the rest. Glancing upwards, he noticed massive trees, dressed in damp, shimmering moss and brimming with life, extending out of sight, covering most everything above with their leafy shields. Through a gap in the shield, Spike could discern webular strands lazily suspended from the distant cave roof, which shone brightly through the canopy to the forest floor. The bases of the trees shimmered a light blue, which flickered from the ground into the arching roots. As his eyes adapted to the dark, he stared in awe. Never in his wildest dreams could he fathom such a magnificent, untouched kingdom.

Instead of freezing, he felt warm. A pleasant wave of humidity energized his body and clogged up his nostrils, which grew twitchy and uncomfortable. He moved quickly, covering his nose with his hands to suppress a fiery sneeze. The flames did not pass his hands, but the sound echoed through the forest. Soon, this sound was lost among the nature chorus. Melodic, whistling chirping mingled with harmonious, natural song in a never-ending symphony, constantly alternating in pitch, tone, volume, and wordless voices. In the midst of these natural sounds, one continuous dizzying sound hummed in the little dragon’s ears, nearly popping them. Far off, a light, silvery tune burst through the forest for a moment before fading into the melody. 

A closer sound caught Spike’s attention. Turning to his left, he recognized a shape the size of a pony skimming through the undergrowth. Perhaps, they knew a way out of the forest. He opened his mouth to speak.

“Hello?” He waved his hand to the distant figure, as he closed the gap between them, “I fell down here and I was hoping you could …”

His voice trailed off and he flinched, when the figure suddenly jerked in his direction. Spike could have sworn for a moment, all noise in the forest ceased, to stare at him. He thought the figure was a pony, but ponies had four legs, not six skinny limbs extending laterally from a flat body. The figure’s round head had two long appendages, scanning for the source of the intruder. What truly unnerved Spike was not the alien itself but a menacing shape, outlined by the light on the creature’s tail: two enormous curved sickles clicking like gnashing teeth. 

The creature stood still for a moment, antennae tingling. Without warning, it darted away into the decaying leaf litter. Spike released a breath that he unconsciously held so long. His wobbly legs almost gave way with relief. A rustle from behind him and relief turned to dread. His eyes darted to the source of the noise, but could find no visible creature. His body quivered, beads of sweat rolled down his face. His feet slowly moved, keeping his eyes trained on the shadows while taking him away from the noise into the line of vegetation. He reached the edge of the forest, nothing. Another step. Nothing. One more step. Nothing. Perhaps, he had imagined it? He stared once more where the sound originated. At this distance, the purple dragon studied the darkness once more. Far above him nearly concealed by the forest, two wretched circles were trained on him. Beneath those, an open maw lined with sharp daggers. 

He prayed his eyes were deceiving him, but he dare not blink, lest the shadow charge. One more step away. CRUNCH! A twig beneath his foot snapped in two with deafening loudness. The shadow charged from its hiding place, revealing its colossal bulk, and sharp claws beneath the light. Spike raced away through the trees, with the monster in hungry pursuit. 

THUD! THUD! THUD! Massive paws slammed against the ground, creating rhythmic vibrations that grew closer with every second. He dare not glance behind him to confirm his fears. Branches snapped with every step, small stones dug into his feet, suspended vegetation swiped at his face and scaly body, bruising him. The noise behind him only came closer and closer. Spike’s legs screamed. If he could have taken a breath, he would have screamed too. Screamed in some desperate hope that Twilight would fly to his rescue. With her friends, they could ward off the creature or at least safely escape. Twilight would teleport them home and they would laugh at this whole ordeal before embracing. But no pony could hear him. His friends had no idea he was down here. And the creature’s panting breath scoured his back.

The tall trees came to an end. A few feet in front of him, a clearing spotted the growth like a stain. In the midst of this clearing, a black boulder with orange luster merged into the forest floor. In the middle of this stone structure, a single uneven gap dug deep, carving out a small cave. If he could just make it there, he might have a chance! Achieving his second wind, Spike bolted from his spot where jaws snapped at the evasive meal. A massive house-sized paw, lined with scales and gray fur, struck the ground, impeding his path. Before the jaws could clamp down, the little dragon darted around the claws, narrowly avoiding outstretched claws. 

With all of his might, Spike leapt into the cave. A single claw pierced the opening, trying to claw out the dragon. He crawled deeper into the cave, away from the razor-sharp blade. The blade withdrew. The ground trembled. Debris fell from the ceiling as loud pounding shook the cave. Spike wrapped his body in his arms and clenched his eyes shut, hoping the cave would hold against the monster’s wrath. As more dust fell from above, Spike tightened his lonely embrace, waiting for the inevitable. It never came. The creature shook the ground and made the boulder tremble, but for all its might, the boulder was mightier. The trembles stopped completely. For an entire minute, everything was still. Spike opened his eyes. From the entrance, a tall limb belonging to the colossal figure stood unmoving. It snuck away from the entrance to the left, resting out of sight. Minutes that seemed hours passed. Neither one moved a muscle.

Amidst the forest chatter, a distant wailing sound resounded through the clearing. Almost instantly, the creature rose. With limbs that shook the earth beneath it, the creature vanished into the trees.

Gradually, Spike’s fearful trembling became tearful sobbing. Tears rolled down his face as the monster flashed through his mind once again with its fangs, nearly snapping him in half like a twig. Eyes that gazed at him hungrily soiled his conscious mind. The more he tried to avoid remembering the creature, the more thoughts of his close encounter with death poisoned his mind. He tried to reason with himself. There was no point in crying. He had faced danger before. Those terrible timber wolves almost made a meal out of him once. Sure, he was scared but he made it through that ordeal without so much as a tear. Hadn’t his life been in danger when he had to retrieve the crystal heart? Sombra could have destroyed him. He was terrified, but he never cried. Three times already he had hostile encounters with unfriendly dragons that nearly cost his life. Yes, he was frightened but he remained strong. When the Crystal Empire almost froze over, the little dragon feared they would all perish, but he remained calm and level headed. He constantly faced danger with his friends but always triumphed. How were any of those situations different from this? 

The answer hit him violently. His friends. Applejack frightened away the wolves and kept him safe. Cadence rescued him from Sombra's clutches. Rarity and Rainbow Dash came to his aid when facing those bully dragons. When the empire was in peril, his friends stood side by side to solve the crisis. Through most anything, Twilight had always come in to protect him, risking her life in the process. When it was all over, they would hug, say their thanks and find themselves closer than before. Now? He had no friends. No Applejack, no Cadence, no Rarity, no Twilight. No Twilight. With this revelation, his sobs became wails. He snapped at himself. Now was not the time for crying. He had to contact Princess Celestia.

He turned to the rocks on the cave floor. He never tried sending anything to the Princess besides paper, but now he had to try. Gingerly picking it up, he blew a green flame enveloping the rock. It merely heated up in his palm, standing still as a rock should. Irritated, he chucked the offending stone out the cave. Picking up a smaller pebble, he tried once again. Once again, the pebble remained in his hand. Not for long though, soon he sent it flying outside the cave. He dared not venture out of the cave to try leaves or bark with that creature nearby. Deep down, he already knew those would burn in his flames. Nothing else would work; he needed paper. 

No, he needed his friends. He needed their support and comforting presence. He wanted them to protect him from this savage world. He needed Twilight. He needed her like he needed air. He wanted her beside him in the cave, coming up with a plan to escape, reassuring him that they could endure with each other. But despite his despairing wishes and futile state, the unmovable fact remained: he had no one. He was going to die, all alone. The sobbing tore through his body, enfeebling him to the point of exhaustion. When his body had no strength left to weep, he stared at the darkness of the cave, which now slithered towards him, enwrapping him in a constricting strangle. 

Suddenly, the murky fog dissipated as though it had never existed. Out of the corner of his eye, a strange reflective light at the cave entrance pierced through the darkness. He tried to focus his eyes on the source but the light entered the cave with powerful strides. In the darkness, the shimmering faded allowing Spike to perceive some of the strange figure. The light had a body three times his size, bearing silver armor that grew dimmer of its own accord. Above him, two green eyes studied him. Yet, Spike was not frightened.

“Hello, little dragon,” the figure spoke with a strong voice. “What are you doing down here?”

Spike blinked. The stranger did not disappear. 

Spike stuttered through his sore throat, “I f—fell. W—who’re you?”

“My name is Sir Knight.” Through the darkness, Spike saw him straighten in a salute. Now the armor made sense. In spite of himself, he could not suppress his incredulity.

“Sir Knight?” Spike felt a small smile on his lips. “How’d you get a name like that?”

“By fighting to protect my kingdom,” the knight’s responded curtly. “Now, I believe you should introduce yourself.”

“Spike,” the dragon answered. He shifted uncomfortably, “I’m sorry, is this your cave? I didn’t know. Please don’t make me go back out there.”

“Calm yourself,” Spike heard a chuckle emanating from the figure. “This cave doesn’t belong to anyone and you can stay as long as you like.”

“Thank you, sir,” Spike nodded, still having difficulty saying his name without a twinge of disbelief. “So, you really won’t kick me out?”

“Of course not,” the shadow replied, “that would be highly dishonorable. As I said before, you have as much right to this cave as anyone else. And I certainly don’t mind sharing.”

Spike sighed with relief, “So then how did you end up here?”

“In this cave?” The knighted continued speaking before Spike could clarify what he meant. “I heard you crying from afar and came to investigate. I just wanted to know why you were so upset. Perhaps, I could help.”

Turning away, the dragon folded his arms across his chest. He wanted to deny ever crying, but he also wanted Twilight. The little dragon was not going to achieve either. 

Spike sniffled, trying to stay strong. “I just want my friends. I want to go home.”

As an idea dawned on him, he turned back to the knight, “You wouldn’t happen to know a way out of here, would you?”

The knight shook his head. Grimacing, Spike rubbed his eyes with his arm. 

“Then,” Spike choked, “do you know how many monsters there are out there?”

“In all honesty, there could be billions,” the knight replied. Spike closed his eyes, remembering those terrible fangs. 

A loud THUD on the cave floor snapped his attention. Sir Knight’s green eyes scowled at him.

“I thought you had friends back home? Are you going to give up when they’re worried sick?”

Spike cringed under the knight’s rebuke, “But I don’t have any way to tell them where I am.”

“You don’t know that. It may not have a way to the surface, but this forest could have just what you need to reach your friends. If you give up now because of some creatures, you’ll never know.”

“But I can’t beat those, those things!” Spike protested, “I’m not violent! I’ve never intentionally hurt another being in my entire life, even in self-defense! And even if I became violent just to defend myself, I could set the entire forest on fire.”

“Why should you care about this place? Isn’t everything out to get you?”

“No! I mean, yes, they might be. But this place doesn’t deserve to burn just so I can survive.” Spike stared into those green eyes, “If I’m getting home, I want to be the same dragon I was before. I don’t care if every single thing in this mad world thinks I’m food. I’m not killing.”

Silence. From the darkness, Spike discerned a faint, proud smile. Had Sir Knight been testing him? 

“But,” Spike twiddled his nervous fingers, “I don’t know how I can do that. I mean, I barely survived an encounter with –,” he faltered at the memory. “I don’t know how I could fend off another monster. Do you?”

The pair of green eyes studied him yet they stared through him, as though they pondered the little dragon while considering his dilemma. Finally, the voice reverberated in Spike’s ears.

“Every ‘monster’ out here preys on other ‘monsters.’” Sir Knight seemed disappointed at Spike’s choice of words, “Every one of them has their unique abilities that allow them to either catch their prey or ward off predators. Take a look at what other creatures do. You could learn a lot.”

Spike nodded. He wanted to ask Sir Knight if he could stay with him for protection, but the knight paced to the cave wall, and leaned against it. He folded his arms in silent thought.

“You can stay in this cave as long as you like, and while you sleep tonight, I’ll protect you from harm,” the knight stated, “but I’m afraid even I wouldn’t be able to fight off many of these creatures, especially while protecting you.”

Spike’s mouth opened in surprise. Whoever he was, Sir Knight was remarkably perceptive. Miffed, he pursed his lips and gazed at the knight.

“I can’t make it on my own,” he remembered Twilight’s face and nearly choked once again. “Those things would eat me alive. I need your help.”

“I promise to watch you from a distance and assist you as I can, but when you encounter these creatures you need to make them respect you, not me. Otherwise, they would just devour you when I turned around. They may seem powerful, but most creatures will avoid other creatures that at least appear more powerful.”

Spike sighed, realizing he could not win this argument. Following Sir Knight’s example, he groggily rested on the cave wall. 

“When you wake up, your first task is finding food and water to last you through your time down here. There are many gem quarries down here that you could locate with your sense of smell. Not too many other creatures would care to eat gems or think to use it as a hunting ground, so it should be relatively safe. But never let down your guard. The moment you do, you make yourself vulnerable.”

Spike nodded half-heartedly, not feeling even slightly optimistic of his chances, particularly his chances on his own. With his friends by his side, he could do anything; confront angry dragons, risk his life for an empire, or protect an entire coliseum of ponies. He could only accomplish such heroic actions because his friends depended on him. Now, he depended on himself.

What was he even supposed to do on his own? He knew he wasn’t like his friends. He wasn’t smart, powerful, or knowledgeable like Twilight; he wasn’t fast or brave like Rainbow Dash; he wasn’t resourceful or clever like Rarity; he wasn’t capable of talking to animals like Fluttershy; he wasn’t strong or tough like Applejack; and he certainly wasn’t boundless in energy, persistent, or nearly ingenious as Pinkie Pie. He was just himself: Spike, the dragon, Twilight’s number one assistant. If he could just have one friend down here, everything would be so much more bearable. More than benefiting from their many skills or qualities, he would actually have someone to help him through all of this, provide an emotional shoulder to lean on. Then, he glanced at Sir Knight. Despite just meeting him, Sir Knight promised to watch over him and give him advise to make it through. He didn’t seem to think less of Spike for crying and actually seemed to admire him for refusing to injure another creature. He cared enough to offer him support. Spike wasn’t alone.

A sharp hiss, and the knight held a long, slender, edged stick in his hand. The stick reflected light, revealing its blade and hilt. 

“Whenever you feel like giving up, just remember that someone is waiting for you. Remember why you have to survive. If not for yourself, then for those who would be devastated by your demise.”

Sparks flew from the cave wall as the knight’s sword carved into the cave wall with no visible effort. Rising to his feet, Spike shielded his eyes and approached the knight. He intended to tell Sir Knight something that faded into the back of his mind as he watched the mesmerizing sword work. Three minutes passed before Sir Knight stopped. Sheathing his sword, he stepped to the side, allowing Spike to approach the wall. 

Tentatively, the little dragon placed his hand where the marks were made, feeling the imprints that he could not see in the dark. He felt seven, separate shapes carved into the stone. Tracing his finger to the first shape, he ran his claw through the figure trying to discern its winding shape. It was a crudely drawn snake. The next was a single curve. Gradually, the message became very clear. These seven shapes alone were meaningless; together, they stated one command.

Survive

What was he doing? He had nearly given up when his friends back home could have been worried sick. Surrendering now would be a disservice to them and everything they ever did to protect him. Rarity’s artistic inspiration might be marred by a close friend’s sudden and unexpected death. Applejack could never feel content with her life and her family, knowing one of them vanished. Proud Rainbow Dash might try to deny any remorse, but it would weigh her down forever. Fluttershy could never stop mourning or happily tend to her animals again. Pinkie Pie might never smile again or brighten up every pony’s life. And Twilight. Spike’s worries became all too vivid. Twilight would never stop blaming herself if he perished. She would regret every moment she did not spend with him. Maybe even scour her books for some way to reverse his fate, leaving the rest of Equestria possibly forever. She’d stop having fun, stop eating, stop breathing. What if soon after, she died from unhappiness? Spike didn’t know if that was possible, but he knew one thing for certain: he had to survive for his friends’ sake.

He rested on the wall, and reflected on Sir Knight’s words. Tomorrow or whenever he woke up, he would find another gem quarry. He would then go search for water; there had to be some to sustain so much life. He would learn from observation and survive this place. Even if his friends were not physically beside him, he would carry them in spirit, feeling them support him from afar, hoping for his safe return. In a sense, they would spur him to endure by reminding him they were waiting for him. His memories of them would keep him strong. He would survive.

As he drifted off into sleep, he gazed at Sir Knight once more and whispered, “Thank you.”


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


“He seemed harmless to me, princess,” the knight spoke his honest mind. “He could scarcely walk let alone conjure a spell.”

“You should know better than to be deceived by appearances,” she scowled at her naïve warrior.

The knight nodded, seeking to avoid an argument, especially with her majesty. That argument would have no happy resolution. She could be stubborn to the bitter end.

“I do not trust him,” she stated plainly. “And neither should you.”

A loud roar resounded from outside. The knight and princess rushed to the window to locate the source of the noise. Beyond the castle walls, a manticore with a crimson mane approached, surrounded by horses equipped for war.

Without missing a second, the knight grabbed his battle horn and blew the trumpet signaling his troops to arms. He turned to his princess, uncertain what to say. The soldiers depended on him, the kingdom depended on him, but she depended on him, and he her. For all his strength, he was nothing without her.

“Just come back to me,” she softly sighed.

He held her gaze a moment longer, before offering a reassuring grin and racing to the battlefield.

> Part 4 Learning
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Eyes opening to the shadowy world, Spike yawned and stretched his arms. Despite the rocky bed, he slept well with exhaustion. He glanced around the cave, finding no one else. He was disappointed to know Sir Knight had left, but remembering that word carved into the cave, he steeled himself.

Rising to his feet, Spike tiptoed to the cave entrance, cautiously peering out. He noticed nothing out of place, but recalling the monster from yesterday and its camouflage, he hesitated to trust the stillness. A dizzy head and cramping muscles reminded him that he needed water while an aching stomach reminded him to find food, so he would have to venture out of his haven. He considered returning to the gem quarry from before, but recollecting that monster instantly obliterated that notion. 

Putting his nose to the air, he inhaled the forest scents. Amidst the sweet scents, he detected the tantalizing fragrance of gems coming a several meters west of the cave entrance. Tentatively, he placed a toe outside. Nothing. His foot. Still nothing. At last, he took a full step outside his fortress. Nothing. The forest continued its chorus. The fluorescent webs far above continued to glow. But now, Spike could discern pony-sized shadows shifting through the trees. Every part of his body screamed to jump back into the cave, but his stomach and head restated their needs, soon equaling his flight instinct. He gulped. Every second out here made him feel vulnerable. Deciding to move quickly, he carefully raced back into the tree line, avoiding any snapping branches. His eyes darted through every gap in the swath of trees, occasionally catching sight of a shape quickly melting into the shadows.

The trees began to ebb, giving way to another barren field, sparkling with green and a few red gems. Just southeast down a gradual incline, Spike could pick out distant churning water amidst the forest sounds. Through all the useless books he read and irrelevant knowledge, he recalled most ponies required five to ten gallons of water. If they did not hydrate themselves for three to four days, their vital organs would shut down and risk permanent damage. Of course, he wasn’t a pony, but the same logic applied to him: he had to drink something before his vitals plummeted. Before investigating, he chowed down four gems and piled several other gems for storage. He would collect them later. Turning to the water source, he cautiously treaded downhill back into the jungle.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



There it was: a stream of murky blue water, trickling from a house-sized pond several meters away. Falling on all fours, Spike lapped up the liquid, not caring if it was unsanitary or unhealthy. Having satiated his thirst, he fell on his back and gazed at the canopy. 

The tendrils from far above shone like starry beacons, so distant yet so beautiful. Beneath these stars, green umbrella-shaped leaves melded with pink tinged petals of milky blooms. Decorating the firm, moss bearded branches, violet blossoms stood beside more glowing webs and fanned green leaves, the size of a pony. Low hanging branches humbly presented their yellow dahlias tinged pink and their red and purple lilies splashed bright cyan, orange-yellow bearing dark stripes. The forest floor was no less vibrant. Pastel, shimmering mushrooms towered over him, surrounded by rows of massive curling fronds with blue tinges. White flowers, sparkling with dotted sky blues concentrated at the center and purple-blue lining the petal edges, illuminated the floor. The pond’s deep impenetrable cerulean hue was pierced by the reflection of the glowing tendrils, creating the image of a morning sky brightened by stars. In the stream, jaded stones contrasting in luster created fairy pools.

Once again, he fell mesmerized under nature’s spell. Every aspect of this jungle magnified its profundity; creating an untouched, pure world Spike doubted could or even should exist. By all logic, a forest should not be thriving under several layers of earth and stone. There was no obvious source of sunlight, plentiful water, or nutrients to sustain this level of vegetation. Perhaps, the tree of harmony created this place? Or perhaps, it was somehow keeping it alive? All of the answers were beyond him. This was Twilight’s area of expertise. Twilight. His hand subconsciously reached his heart, calming his aches. He rose and shook his head. Sir Knight’s words echoed in his head. If he ever wanted to see his friends again, he had to survive this beautiful prison. Once they found him, maybe, they could perform experiments to understand how this place formed or its source of nourishment. With his friends, no monster would dare threaten him. After all, what creature would be a match for Twilight’s magical prowess? Hopefully, the forest had no answer.

Rolling onto his belly, Spike pushed himself up with his hands and rose to his feet, ready to return to the gemstones. 

SNAP!

Spike flinched at the sharp noise, emanating from the opposite side of the pond near the forest trees. His legs became weak, his body unreliable. Two shadowy, massive figures emerged from the trees creating a ruckus as they unsteadily approached the pond. Gazing on them, he realized the figures were in a scuffle. Both swiped at the other with their limbs; the figure farther from the water intent on halting its opponent, who seemed desperate to escape. Despite his distance from them, Spike did not want to even remotely risk being caught in the middle of this combat.

He darted behind the mushrooms, staring at the clashing figures. As the figures drew closer to the illuminating water, Spike squinted, hoping to uncover the intruders. He hoped his eyes were deceiving him. Otherwise, he was watching a massive, a six-legged creature sporting bulky pincers, lashing a multi-segmented tail bearing a very bulbous appendage ending sharp as a needle at a hard-shelled beast with retractable eyestalks and curved, bladed claws. A scorpion was fighting a crab; both the size of a house. These creatures weren’t supposed to grow so massive. They should have been biologically destined for smaller, less menacing forms. Even if they grew to this size, they shouldn’t be able to live with their excessive bulk, strangling on the excess oxygen their lungs absorbed, their cumbersome exoskeletons prohibiting any sort of movement. Yet, here they were: colossi dueling to the death.

The scorpion’s left claw clutched one of the crab’s legs; the other claw restrained the crab’s right pincer. Despite its struggles, the crab was pinned down, incapable of escape. The scorpion positioned its stinger for the killing blow. The tail touched the crab’s shelled body, but could not penetrate into the flesh. The scorpion arched its tail to the crab’s underbelly, searching for a weak spot. A snap from the crab’s left pincer and the stinger jerked away. Another snap at the scorpion’s blind eyes; the crab was freed. Quickly, the crab shuffled into the pond, submerging to its depths. The scorpion stood at the water’s edge, realizing its prey escaped. Unwilling to follow, the scorpion returned to the jungle trees, and soon vanished from sight.

Fearing an encounter with either creature, Spike retreated up hill to the gem quarry. He raced over leaves, clovers, and dirt for some time before he was confident those creatures were far behind him. As he moved uphill, he recollected the incredible scene in his mind. The crab was capable of fending off that scorpion with its pincers and natural hard body long enough to escape where the scorpion could not follow. Spike narrowed his eyes in thought. The crab had weapons to deter the predator, armor to stall its attacker, and a safe refuge. Ideas began swirling in Spike’s head. Perhaps, he could craft a weapon, a tool to keep foes at a distance, armor to protect his body, and find an impenetrable fortress. Of course, he hit an immediate roadblock. He could not make crab pincers, an armored carapace, or a pond of his own. All he had were the tools given by nature: gemstones, trees, leaves, mushrooms, bioluminescent plants, and rocks, wonderful rocks. Gritting his teeth in frustration, Spike realized he lacked the materials and ingenuity to make, anything, really. Sure, he knew some relevant information, but little he could actually act on. Well, he could possibly find a long branch, sharpen a gemstone into an arrowhead, and make a spear. He’d seen plenty of characters in his comics do that, so he could probably make one of his own.

His eyes shifted through the forest floor, searching for the perfect shaft. Rectangular grey stones jutted from the ground, a long damp log covered with lichen stood immediately in his path, and midst the fern, clovers flourished, but nothing adequate for a spear. His gaze rose upwards to the surrounding trees. Their branches bore infinite shaped leaves, a rainbow spectrum of flowers, glowing tendrils, moss trailing down, barely visible cobwebs, and smaller protruding limbs. Well, he had to get something if he wanted to survive. Groaning, he crossed the log, shifting through the clovers, and approached the shortest of the titanic trees. The nearest branch was several meters away, and a fall could be lethal, or seriously painful. Either way it would hurt. Noticing the green, dimly lit moss trailing all the way up the tree, the drake wondered whether the spongy plant could support his weight.

Digging his sharp claws into the moss, Spike hoisted himself a few inches off the ground. To his surprise, his claws could not touch the tree bark; the moss was just so thick and layered, complete penetration was impossible. While he could grip its many tendrils, actually piercing the surface proved a challenge. More intriguingly, the fuzzy tendrils did not sag or even falter under his weight. Most impressively, when he withdrew his right hand claws, the vegetation around the holes he left behind started to shimmer a dim white. The glowing vegetation quickly stretched itself, filling out the hole left behind until the dim light faded and the imprint was nonexistent. This plant had rapid regenerative abilities like some kind of starfish, but this was on a completely different level. No wonder it grew unrestrained across the tree. Once again, he had to marvel at the life in this world. Somehow, every organism had not only adapted to the environment, but thrived, creating undocumented species and a unique environment. As he continued his ascent, plunging his claws when necessary and grabbing the curling tendrils otherwise, Spike mused how Twilight would be enthusiastically hypothesizing the source of the plants regenerative powers and collecting samples for her own studies.

He nearly lost his grip when he thought about her. He sighed, wishing she were here as he continued up the tree. He wished any of his friends were here: Twilight, Shining Armor, Cadence, Twilight Velvet, Nightlight, Princess Celestia, Princess Luna, Rarity, Applejack, Pinkie Pie, Rainbow Dash, Fluttershy, Big Mac, Granny Smith, Ember, Starlight Glimmer, Sunburst, Zecora, Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle, Scootaloo, Derpy, Ditzy, Vinyl Scratch, Octavia, Mayor Mare, Moon Dancer, Cheerilee, Lyra, Bon Bon, maybe even Discord; the list went on and on. He couldn’t help but wonder what they were doing at the moment. By now, Twilight probably noticed he was missing and sent out a search party. A hopeful part of him postulated she would find him and take him back home, but quickly dismissed that naïve notion. For all she knew, he went missing in the Everfree Forest. Even with those tremors that had occurred, she had no real reason to even consider he had fallen under the earth, so she would likely concentrate her efforts on combing through Everfree. Spike glumly realized all of Ponyville could search through that forest and still be no closer to covering a fraction of it. 

Still, as he approached the nearest tree branch, he had to wonder why Princess Celestia had not tried to contact him through a letter to discover his whereabouts. The never-ending hum remained buzzing in his sore ears. Dismissing the thought, he now pondered why Princess Luna had yet to contact him in a dream. Well, he supposed she couldn’t contact him if he didn’t dream. 

Finally, he lifted himself onto the vast branch and finding his balance, proceeded towards the smaller branches. Sweet flowery fragrance bombarded his senses. They were all unique and different. Another time, he might stop and smell them, but for now, he moved on.

Bending slightly over the branch, he grasped a twig, twice his size, and pulled, keeping one hand firmly secure on the mossy surface. It cracked and soon gave way, Spike nearly toppled over from his momentum, but steadied himself. He inspected the branch in his hand; it had a few miniscule protruding limbs, knots, and filly-sized leaves, not to mention rich green moss, that needed to be shaved, but he had all the time in the world. 

He surveyed the forest from his perch, but surrounding sprouts obscured his view. He glanced up, shifting his head to the treetops. Aside from the canopy covering his vision, Spike’s nose ran into a shimmering webular strand, nearly causing him to sneeze. He examined the web thoughtfully, considering how his spear would require roping to fasten the arrowhead. Then again, he had no idea what this thing was; it could be dangerous, toxic, or even alive, waiting to snap at him. The last thought left him concerned. He did not care for a seemingly dormant creature that would suddenly lunge at him. Tentatively using his branch, he poked the lining. Nothing. He poked it again, still nothing. Touching it with a finger. Nothing. Touching with a hand. Nothing. Tugging it down. Well, there was a sharp snap and the web’s glow slowly began to dim. Wrapping the semi-elastic string around his left shoulder and hips, Spike secured his prize.

Keeping the branch firmly in his hand, he reversed his direction, feet leading him backwards. That’s when he bumped into something. 

His head twisted to see a creature from a nightmare. It had six legs with three segments. Two segments expanded into leafy structures and ended in a segment with small claws. It towered over him, slowly lifting its front legs and raising itself. It had a wide, flat body ending with a scorpion-like tail without a stinger. As it reared its legs, the tail curled, becoming very reminiscent of a scorpion, swaying rhythmically like a tree in the breeze. Its entire mossy green and blackish-brown bark colored, armored body was lined with thorns, protruding from the monster’s body like bristles. Yet none of that terrified Spike as much as its face. The head baring the face was abnormally cylindrical, winding out into a pointless cone at the end. Two green and white speckled half-spheres jutted out from the left and right side of its head, adjacent with two long antennae in the center of its face, now aimed in his direction. Beneath that? The most alien mouth he had seen. Four talon appendages, two on each side, poised beside two separate slivers of a circle clicked horizontally, a trash compactor. This was, without a doubt, the most hideous abomination Spike had ever seen, and it was staring right at him.

He backed away, down the opposite end of the branch. The creature remained swaying in its place, rearing up its forelegs and curling its tail. Remembering his branch, Spike thrust at the tiny space between them, trying to send a warning to the spiny foe. Those leaves on the branch hampered his movements and weakened his strike. Lowering its forelegs, the animal’s antennae twitched. A leg moved towards him. Spike backed away quickly, keeping the branch pointed at his aggressor. The creature continued approaching with a sway and tortoise speed, but being so massive, it didn’t have to race to catch up to Spike on the narrow branch or corner him at the end. 

Spike’s eyes darted below perceiving the dizzying height. His eyes darted back to the beast. It was almost upon him. He had to act now. Spike jabbed at the monster’s face, barely flinching it. He jabbed again. This time, the creature grabbed the twig in its mouth. Try as he could, Spike could not dislodge his pitiful weapon. As his mind raced for a solution, he realized none of his options could guarantee his safety. He could try escaping by racing under its belly, but it could easily flatten him with its body or tail, impaling him on a thorny barb. If he jumped from here, he would become a pancake on the forest floor. There was nothing he could – wait a second. 

Spike stared more closely at the creature’s moving mouthparts. They were mashing the leaves on his branch, chewing them with patient ease. Spike blinked incredulously. Was this massive nightmare actually a leaf-eating herbivore? Then again, it could be some kind of trick. In either case, Spike kept the branch outstretched for the colossal titan. Upon finishing every leaf, the creature’s antennae bobbed, mouth relinquishing its grip. Slowly, it turned a full 180 degrees and lumbered to the tree trunk. Clawed toes grasped at the mossy surface, pulling the grazing sloth to the leaves of a distant tree branch.

Spike stared at the creature long after it mounted the branch. Releasing a breath he had been unconsciously holding, the dragon sat down, relieved. He let out a chuckle. Somehow, that cow of a beast managed to intimidate him, when all it wanted was to peacefully chew on leaves. Once it had its fill and no longer saw him as a threat, the thing just left him alone, in search of another leafy meal. Funny, how a benign creature could so completely convince him it was lethal. He had to admire such a compelling performance.

The drake paused at the realization. Somehow, that giant deterred him from approaching and made him unconsciously assume they were dangerous. They bluffed and Spike believed it. How did he or she (Spike wasn’t really sure about its gender to be honest) do that? Well, they certainly looked the part. With a thorny body, abnormal head, scorpion-like tail, and impressive bulk, physically, he or she seemed strange, alien, unnatural, and dangerous. Beyond looking the part, they embraced the part. Raising his (he decided to call it a him for convenience sake) forelegs and arching its tail, the spiny giant appeared larger, formidable, and even slightly resembled a venomous scorpion. Unnatural sways made Big Cow (why not give him a name for more convenience, Spike asked?) unnerving, and approaching him head on? That was something only a bold predator would do. He took a gamble with his own safety, but it paid off. By giving the illusion of being dangerous, Big Cow became dangerous in Spike’s mind and, the dragon bet, in the mind of any potential foe.

Replicating that fellow’s techniques just might serve his purposes. Spike rubbed his chin in thought. It would certainly be satisfying to frighten off that monster from before, who he was reluctant to grant a name, rather than have to run away. That mental image made him grin, before he took a reality check. 

Obvious roadblock number one: he was tiny, miniscule. He could not tower over his foes like Big Cow. They would be more amused than intimidated, and he more dead than alive. He glanced at the surrounding forest vegetation, then at the moss blanketing the tree. He already had plans to craft armor like that crab, Pinchy (why not? He was on a role with these names anyways), to protect his body. Perhaps, with more of those webular strands, a few cobwebs, enough of this regenerative moss, maybe even a few sharpened gemstones, he could craft daunting, self-repairing armor. Even if he wasn’t physically imposing, he could at least appear unsavory or more trouble than he was worth. He could still act like a monster, just not in the way Big Cow had; he could send restrictive puffs of smoke through his nostrils, jab with his spear or spears once finished, and blast small, diminished embers into the air before they safely evaporated. If he was very careful with his fire breath, he might be able to utilize it as a threat display. Fire would have to be a last resort, Spike admonished himself; couldn’t risk setting any plants or animals on fire. Obvious roadblock number one cleared. Anything else, brain?

Roadblock number two: what if that fails? Not every being can be intimidated. Even with regenerative armor, some creatures could chew through his defenses given time. Once they have him in their clutches, it’s over. Narrowing his brow, Spike made his way to the tree trunk, collecting five webular strands along the way as he considered the dilemma. Distracting himself from the issue would hopefully allow his mind to unintentionally find a solution. That’s what Twilight occasionally did when she had to solve a problem.

Glancing at the trunk, he decided he was not quite ready to go down yet. Down. Climbing back to the forest floor would be more difficult than climbing up, and he already ran through the circumstances of falling. He shuddered at the thought, telling himself not to look –no, don’t say it. How had he even gotten all the way up here? Well, he climbed. Once he started, he just kept going. Could anything else climb after him? Probably, but some might not.

Of course! He had an epiphany. Pinchy escaped Scorpio (yes, they both got names too, moving on) by hiding in the pond. Big Cow probably spent most of his time in the treetops, away from ground predators. Spike needed a base, somewhere he could escape from predators, where only he could enter, where he could wait out his pursuers. The cave from before entered his mind. If he added some spear barriers as a gate, stored away food and water within, maybe set a few traps, he could create the perfect fortress. Why stop at one? He could scout around the jungle for similar caves, natural barriers, or hideaways, so he would always have someplace safe to hide. Otherwise, he could probably escape into the mossy trees when necessary. He had no idea what else was up here. For all he knew it could be more dangerous than the forest floor. Spike decided to cross that bridge once he arrived there.

After collecting more webby strings and a few cobwebs for good measure, he grasped the mossy tree and painstakingly climbed down.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~





> Part 5 Test
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	After several hours of material collecting, trial and plenty of error, he finally crafted mossy armor covering his back, belly, and even his face and laced it with sharpened green gemstones. He had no innate Rarity gift at clothes making, but his persistence and concentration finally paid off; numerous failures finally produced something capable of defending his vulnerable body. Now: a weapon.

Picking a gemstone from his cave stash, he nibbled around the edges. Powdery gem fragments trickled down his throat as he brought the tip to a sharp point. Pausing a moment to inspect his work, he turned the gem around in his hands. He opted to whet the soon to be spearhead with his teeth rather than another gemstone. With gem-crushing teeth, this seemed more optimal than utilizing another gem of similar toughness. Serendipity occurred when he discovered a few red gems he collected would emit an illuminating red glow for thirty seconds when heated by his flames, so he kept the red gemstones sharpened as hand-daggers. Noticing the left portion of his spearhead unbalanced with the right, Spike shifted the edge towards his mouth, shaving the excess portion. 

Finally content with the shape, he carved two notches on the left and right sides of the stone near the angular tips, connecting them across the blade. He placed the blade on a large, flat boulder, serving as his workbench, and then chose a smoothed branch from his pile and web strand and carefully placed them on his table. He ran the web through the stone notches he crafted, fastened the arrowhead to the branch, and tied the strands around the stick in a tight, knot. 

Spike lifted his tool. Despite the long shaft, it fit nicely in his hands, providing a firm grip. Eager to test his creation, Spike jabbed at an empty space, perhaps too impatiently. Nonetheless, the arrowhead remained securely fixed to the branch, remaining resolutely in place. Intrigued, Spike jabbed at the open air in rapid succession. One, two, three, four. The gem tilted slightly to the right, prompting the drake to apply another fastening string. This time, the spear endured his rapid thrusts.

He retrieved more gemstones, branches, and webular strands to replicate his weapon. Before long, he had five more spears standing proudly in the cave, and two small, handheld axes, caused by errors on his part. While shaving a shorter branch, he applied too much pressure and snapped it in half, leaving him with two useless half-sticks. He had two misshapen gemstones, also errors on his part, and stuck them through the half-sticks before binding them with remaining strands. These would be useful for chopping down more branches. If he crafted a belt to hold the axe and spear, then he could keep both hands free when climbing up the trees. With a bit more time, effort, and plenty trial and error, he had two cozy web belts; one on his hip, holding an axe and a red gemstone, and the other on his back, securing the first spear he crafted a few hours ago.

Spike gathered enough moss to make a pillow, blanket, and mattress all at once. Although sloppy in appearance, the mossy bed would doubtlessly be more comfortable than the stony floor. 

Out of habit, He made a mental checklist. Scary Armor: Check, Spears: Check, Axes: Check, Mossy Bed: Check, Gemstones: Check, Impenetrable Fortress: No, Multiple Bases: No, Map: No, Water: No, Water Containers: Not so much, Light: Kinda with the glowing red gem, Stomach Ache: Unfortunately Check, Medicinal Herbs: Don’t really recognize most plants down here, so no. Spike’s hands gripped his aching belly. He guessed drinking unfiltered water finally caught up with him. Water Filtering Device: Next on the List. 

When the sharp cramp diminished to a dull sting, the dragon pondered what in the jungle, or hopefully his immediate materials, could possibly serve as a filtration device. His eyes drifted to his supplies: gemstones, bark (he tried to make a shield with that to little success), branches, rocks and sand on the cave floor, a few webular strands, some cobwebs, and giant leaves. In a flash of inspiration, he realized he had exactly what he needed.

Placing five pieces of dry bark and two giant leaves on the floor, he then lined the bark with stones and puffed a small flame on the wood. Now, he had a campfire. Spike brought a giant shield leaf, cobwebs, and three strands to his work stone and sat down. Carefully, he folded the leaf into a hollow cone and connected its edges with the cobwebs. When he was confident the cone was secured, he pulled some moss from his blanket and using another web strand, fastened it to the bottom of the cone, creating a permeable seal. Then, he retrieved two short sticks, one of which still had a rather long limb extending at the top, both taller than the leaf cone, and a webbed strand. He leaned down to the cone’s funnel top, mentally connecting a line through the circle center, between two nonexistent points. Using his talons, he tentatively poked holes into his leaf where he envisioned those points. Spike gingerly worked the web strand through the holes dividing the circle opening into half-circles, before looping the strand back around and securing a knot of his bucket cone. Taking the branch with a hangnail limb, he moved deeper into the cave to softer soil and plunged the stick into the ground. Once he had penetrated enough dirt, he scooped the soil around the branch’s base, strengthening its hold on the ground. He retrieved the other stick and finding a soft spot beside the previous branch, repeated his process. Taking his cone, he hung it on the hangnail branch, before tying the extension to the other stick with his final strand. The cone was now supported by two branches, and hanging twelve inches above the cave floor.

By this time, his fire greatly diminished. Scooping down, he plucked charcoal from the embers, briefly reflecting how dragon scales resisting burning temperatures facilitated his process, before placing them on a stone until they lost enough heat. He then dumped the cooled charcoal into giant shielded leaf. Once he had a full pile of light gray charcoal, he took the leaf to his cone and slowly poured the charcoal into his cone. The moss plug kept the charcoal inside, prompting Spike to dump another pile. 

Next, he placed clean sand on the leaf and formed a pile of small rocks. He added a layer of sand, then a layer of small rocks, then more sand, and finally, small rocks. The leaf cone retained its shape, not even bulging. The moss plug remained in place, and both the strand and the sticks would not warp. Spike could not help but smile and do a little dance; he successfully crated a filtration device. With this, he could safely drink the pond water he wanted, or at least in theory. Now he had to test it out. Which meant getting water, which meant he needed storage containers. He only had one leaf left, which could be molded into a cup, but considering he used it to carry sand, rocks, and charcoal, he was reluctant to use it. Even if the filter device could sort through the rubble, he did not have any remaining cobwebs to close the cone. Back to foraging.

Working an axe and gemstone knife through his hip belt and a spear on his back, Spike made his way out of the cave. By now, the fire had long burned out and the cave was dark as ever. Spike didn’t really mind. After spending so much time in the dimly lit jungle, his eyes had grown accustomed to the shadows. So, as he reached the edge of the trees, his eyes were keen enough to detect a small circular object resting on the ground. Cautiously, he inspected it. Lime green, and bearing a severed stem, Spike deduced the object was some kind of fruit, but beyond that, he had no idea what it was or even if it existed outside this place, recently named Underworld. Lifting the fruit, he realized the object was roughly the size of his hand. He carefully brought wafts towards his nostrils, only to learn the fruit was odorless. Balling a fist, he rapped the object, learning it had an extremely hard shell. His knuckles were a bit sore.

Spike blinked in consideration before shaking his numb hand, “I think I’ll call you a sore fruit. Cause you hurt my hand.”

He took the fruit’s silence as acceptance of its new name. Spike almost considered how strange his voice sounded after so much silence, before he grasped the fruit in both hands.

Placing an ear beside the shell, he shook it and heard a swishing sound. Spike’s eyes widened. Was there water in this? Taking his sharpened red gem stone from his belt, he applied pressure to the surface. With both hands on the knife, he carved a hole to the center. He turned the fruit over, and liquid came trickling forth from the hole. Green liquid. The drake poked a finger into the liquid and brought his wet finger to his tongue. He promptly spit the revolting taste from his mouth, but the rueful drop lingered in his mouth and sharpened his dull stomachache. Spike made a mental note: sore fruit: not for eating. He emptied the rest of the liquid and stared more closely through the hole.

Inspiration struck and he returned to the cave. Using his knife, he widened the hole until two of his fingers could fit. Using small bits of the absorbing moss on his fingertips, he sponged out the persistent liquid and emptied the sinewy remains, core, and seeds. Finally, the fruit was vacant. If he could wash out the taste in the river, he could craft a canteen for traveling water. Another revelation: the moss was spongy enough to absorb water. For bases, he could construct more filtration devices and utilize moss to store water for the long-term. Then again, Spike realized he had yet to uncover how long the moss could store liquid. For all he knew, the water would drip out as he walked back from the stream. He shrugged, turning to his original idea. With these fruit canteens, he could keep water with him at all times, so he would never have to worry about dehydration. If he found more sore fruits, he could store enough water to sustain long treks and transport water from the river without worrying about leakage. 

Dropping the sore fruit on his worktable, Spike raced back where he found the fruit and searched for another. He shifted through fallen leaves, roots, and all manner of vegetation in his fruitless search. Where were they? There had to be more of these plants growing somewhere, that couldn’t be the only one in all of Underworld. Where had the fruit even come from? He mentally smacked himself. If sore fruit didn’t grow on the ground, then it had to be – he lifted his gaze – in the treetops. Sure enough, there were masses of sour fruit lining the distant branches. Unlike the previous tree he scaled, this one had no thick overgrowing moss to grasp; only smooth, tough bark. There were long webby tendrils leading to the berries branch higher up, and with a little climbing, Spike knew he could reach the strand and hoist himself all the way up. 

He tried to find a foothold in the bark, to little avail. Every time he almost rose a few inches, he lost his grip and fell back down. After twelve failed attempts ending with him falling on the shaft of his spear, Spike angrily stabbed the tree with his gem knife. To his surprise, the knife easily dug deep into the wood. He slid the knife out and noticed the deep gash. His hand or even his foot could fit in such a gash. Another idea, and he raced back to the cave.

Spike returned with two longer and wider red gem daggers in both hands. He rammed his left blade into the base of the tree and the other blade from the corner of the gash, slightly higher. Working his left foot into the left hole and the right into the right, he punctured the tree with his left dagger and lifted his left foot into the new hole, over the first left hole, while firmly digging his blade above to secure his position. Then, he pierced a foothold with his right dagger, placed his foot within the niche, and buried his dagger into the bark. So, the slow process continued. His muscles were already aching from all this walking and climbing mossy trees, but he calmly told them that it had to be done. After a good twenty minutes of climbing, the web line was within his grasp. His right hand was higher than his left, so he withdrew the right blade into his belt to grab the tendril. 

He tugged, testing its strength. The web seemed firmly attached to the branch, but Spike questioned its ability to support his full weight. Then, he had to wonder if he thought this through. And what exactly was his plan with this rope? Was he going to shimmy up it like a monkey on a palm tree? Did he plan to hold the rope and walk up the tree perpendicularly? Either option would require lifting his entire body all at once. Even as a mighty dragon, Spike knew he lacked the physical strength to sustain such an action for another ten or twenty minutes. He was already exhausted and weary from climbing and walking everywhere. Quite frankly, he knew that he wasn’t as strong as other dragons. On the upside, he was probably smarter. How many of them would have thought this through? Thinking of a wingless Garble clawing at the tree angrily, Spike chuckled in spite of himself. Drawing his blade once again, Spike decided to postpone using the tendril until the climb down. The dagger strategy was working anyways; just another fifteen to twenty minutes and he would reach the branch.

So in seventeen minutes, two of which were spent taking a short rest, he scaled all the way to the lowest, but still very distant branch from the forest floor. Pausing a moment to catch his breath, Spike rolled onto the branch, daggers still in hand. He shook his head, reminding himself he had a task. In the middle of the branch, the sore fruits idly swung from the branches of a smaller branch. Rising to his feet, Spike sheathed his daggers and drew his small axe. As he approached the berries, his eyes narrowed in thought. Why were they swaying? They could only do that if there was a breeze. Spike stuck out a hand near the berries. Sure enough, he felt a small gust of air, cooling his sweaty palm. He kept his hand in place before switching to the other. If there was a breeze, then this world had to open up to the surface somehow. There was a way home! He knew it. Unless, the forest was magically producing the breeze like it produced everything else here.

First things first, Spike leaned over, maintaining a firm grip on the tree. With his axe, he cleaved through a branch holding a sore fruit, but failed to catch it before it plummeted to the forest floor. With that falling fruit, Spike gazed down to see how high he was, and nearly had a panic attack. He rolled back onto the branch, steadying his potential hyperventilation and racing heart. Closing his eyes, he finally calmed himself. How exactly was he planning on carrying the sore fruit back down? He needed both hands to use the daggers and his belt was already full. He considered running the fruits through his spear but quickly dismissed the notion. Extra weight was the last thing he needed on this climb. He reflected on the fruit he had found. It must have fallen several feet but he could find no bruise or blemish. If a sore fruit’s outer shell protected it, then perhaps there was no need to carry the fruits. He could just cut them from the branch and harvest them later.

Spike rolled to his stomach and glanced at the end of the tree branch. Plentiful leaves, vegetation, and branches decorated the end. Forget the end, the entire tree was bristling with jade leaves, trembling in the breeze. He should probably collect a few of those leaves as well. First things first. He leaned back over the side to the branch bearing sore fruits and chopped off a dozen or so from their perch. They plummeted below. Content with his work, Spike hoisted himself back onto the branch and placed his slightly blunted axe on his belt. Stretching his arms above his head, Spike readied himself for the long climb down.

Get Out of There, Spike!

Spike stiffened in surprise. Sir Knight’s distant voice reverberated in his ears. His head shifted around, searching for the source of the noise. From his perch, he could only see the outlying, surrounding trees, his cave far below, and the forest litter. He was about to take a breath and call to Sir Knight, when – 

Spike! You fool! Can’t you sense you’re in danger? There’s predator hunting you! She’s hiding somewhere close! There's no time to escape now. Whatever she is, you need to find her before she reaches you.  

Spike’s eyes widened with mounting apprehension. Was something behind him? He turned to the tree trunk. Not a soul in sight. Yet with Sir Knight’s warning of another presence, he now dimly perceived another being somewhere nearby. But his eyes supposedly adapted to the dark could find nothing. He yanked his spear from his belt ready to defend himself – 

No, not there! Behind you! She’s almost on top of you! 

Spike jerked around and desperately thrust his spear at the empty air. There was nothing there. Just leaves, branches, and a hue of green. Still weary, he kept his spear posed while slowly retreating to the web strand. If he could shimmy down that, he could possibly drop safely to the ground. His eyes turned behind, ensuring his steps did not veer –

Don’t take your eyes off her, Spike! You might not see her but she sees you.

His eyes watered in dread. His fist moved to wipe his tears – 

Don’t blink! Don’t close your eyes! That’s all the time she needs.

“Well, what and where is it? There’s nothing here but blasted leaves!” Spike wanted to scream in frustration but his voice was stuck in his throat.

She’s hiding in the leaves somewhere! I can’t see her but I sensed her.

Somewhere? Was he saying he didn’t know where or when this monster would attack? Gritting his teeth, Spike stared at the dense, trembling leaves while slowly retreating to the tendril. It was still so far, and he could not find the creature amidst all these leaves. Wait a second. He narrowed his eyes at the trembling leaves. As those leaves trembled, so did a tall leafy stem. In fact, the leafy stem trembled in perfect synchronization with the leaves. Synchronization so perfect that it looked uncanny. The leafy stem had four skinny legs, a narrow waist, one triangular head with compound spheres breaking out of adjacent angles and finger-like mandibles at the third angle, and two barbed limbs folded in prayer. He now stood face to face with a giant praying mantis, inching itself towards him. How hadn’t he seen it before? Furious with himself, Spike poised his weapon as death approached.

His spear was not long enough to ward of the mantis. Once it was in striking range of his weapon, it would be in striking range of him. And he knew from Twilight’s entomology studies the mantis could strike within ten percent of the time he blinked. If he took his eyes off it to grab the line, it would take him. Even if he grabbed the line without looking, the monster could easily out-speed him. He had a sinking feeling his armor would only hold up so long against that thing’s whirling mandibles. Jumping off the branch was out. A drop from this height, and he was dead. And if he so much as blinked, he was dead.

Remember what you’ve learned!

What he learned? He could barely think with this terror muddling his thoughts. Terror! He knew what to do.

Spike took a step towards the fiend and looked it straight in the eye. The mantis paused, realizing the little one had spot it, but continued inching towards him. Spike opened his mouth to reveal his teeth and snarled, puffed out his chest and standing straight, and ferociously jabbed the spear at the air in between them. The mantis angled its approach but continued approaching. Nothing was working! He nearly panicked. Those unblinking eyes betrayed no hesitation, emotion, or second thought. The mantis was now in striking range. It was over. He almost closed his eyes in defeat.

Survive. For them.

Spike narrowed his eyes in determination. He was down to his last line of defense. Opening his mouth, green flames flickered outwards and enveloped the space between them. This time, the mantis flinched, whether in fear or curiosity Spike could not tell; its mandibles fingered the air, raptorial limbs retracted, antennae quivered, but most importantly its legs moved backwards, putting distance between predator and prey. Spike intensified his flames, while carefully avoiding the branches, leaves, and the mantis. Even when slowly retreating, its eyes never moved from the little drake. This worried him. For all Spike knew, this beast was simply strategizing another approach. He had to send a clear message that bluffed his deadliness.

The flames stopped. The mantis cocked its head, trying to read him. Engaging his quick-thinking Twilight mode, Spike studied the distance between him and the mantis, the air control he would require to sustain a long fire breath, and the consequences of failure. Having estimated all the variables, Spike inhaled deeply. Before he could double-check, the mantis charged. A concentrated burst of fire soured past the mantis’ head mid-lunge, nearly grazing its eyes and antennae before harmlessly disseminating into the open air.

Spike quickly inhaled, bluffing another attack. This time, the mantis scurried to the underside of the branch out of range of his flames, but not of a counter-attack. Now what? That thing could lunge up from the bottom and take him at an angle to avoid his fire breath and his detection. If it had him in it its vice grip, he was finished. Spike gritted his teeth, racking his head for a solution. Soon, he ran out of branch and stood back to the tree trunk. What could he do? How had he let this happen? How had that freak of nature caught him unaware? Why didn’t he see it coming?

Easy answer: it blended into the leaves and approached silently like a shadow. In combination with the darkness and the vegetation, its green body was practically invisible amongst the leaves. Like Big Cow, the mantis’ behavior added to the illusion as it imitated the rhythmic swaying of the leaves. 

It already had him in its sight, but if he could just escape for a moment, he could retreat into the surrounding leaves and use his mossy armor as camouflage. From there, he could think of something. First problem: the mantis, second problem: getting out of its sight for starters; with eyes like that, escape would be nigh impossible. He tried to remember Twilight’s entomology studies, seeking some piece of usable information. Nothing, and he could sense the mantis drawing closer. Wait, mantises can’t see red very well. At least, Spike thought so. He unsheathed one of his red gemstone daggers. If he could illuminate the area in the gem’s red glow, perhaps he could blind the mantis long enough to hide. He had fire breath; use it. Bringing the gem to his mouth, Spike exhaled a fire breath onto the stone illuminating the entire branch from its end to the underside in scarlet red. 

At the epicenter of the shimmering hue, Spike narrowed his eyes under the glare and cautiously made a haste pace to the tree leaves. He turned around mid-run to see the mantis pouncing where he once stood, lashing with reckless abandon. As the light began to dim, Spike sheathed his spear and placed himself on a patch of moss situated on a thick branch, extending from the left. He hid his dagger in the folds of his mossy armor but retained his grip on the blade. 

The light finally died. By the tree trunk, the mantis inspected the area where it last saw him. Its head swiveled to the tree trunk, then directly at him. Heart pounding, Spike forced himself to remain still, not even shifting his eyes. A breeze ruffled his branch. Spike shifted slightly in his perch, imitating the breeze. Mandibles whirled like eager fingers. But the mantis did not approach him. Its head swiveled to another branch further down on the opposite side. Shifting its head from side to side, the mantis took steps forward and moved to the underside of the branch. 

Spike’s eyes darted to the webbed lining. If he could reach that line, he could slide down the tree to his dagger marks, climb down, and retreat to the cave. First, he had to be sure the mantis could not intercept him. Meaning he had to wait until the mantis was far behind him, near the back of the tree before he broke out and ran. Second, he had to climb down very quickly. For all he knew, the mantis could follow him with ease or cut the line, so he had to reach his footholds quickly. He didn’t think the mantis would pursue him all the way to the ground, but he had doubts. There was still the red gemstone; if it came too close he could activate its glow again. But he was hesitant to use it on the way down; the bright light could obscure his vision and make it impossible to see where he was going. He could misstep and fall to the forest floor. He really didn’t want to become a splatter on the ground. Well, he could always – 

Spike’s heart skipped a beat, as the mantis rose from under the bark to his side and now stood inches from him. Unblinking eyes met his green eyes, before looking past him, oblivious of the little drake. Antennae twitched. Spike’s stomach plummeted as he realized a fatal flaw in his plan. He had no idea whether the mantis could find him with its hairline antennae. What if it already found him? What if it was just feigning ignorance to catch him by surprise? Well, he could strike first. At this range, he could roast the beast’s head straight off before it had a chance to react. The tables had turned. Spike quietly inhaled through his nostrils, readying flaming barrage. Now it was his turn to hunt.

No.

No? This thing was going to kill him if he didn’t do something.

You said you’re not a killer.

He squished bugs before. This wasn’t any different.

Look again. Don’t you see it?

Irritated, Spike glared at the monster before him, an alien from a monster movie. Like some vampiric demon, it existed only to cause remorseless pain, a curse to all other beings. He knew this abomination was dangerous and could slay him with lightning speed, but … that didn’t justify burning it. He stared at the triangular head, eyes that knew neither remorse nor mercy, nor had the capacity to comprehend either. It wasn’t malicious like King Sombra or Tirek. It didn’t enslave countless others or threaten the entire world. It wasn’t even a bully like Garble, who enjoyed lording his power over others. It was just doing what it was supposed to do: eat and survive. Unlike Big Cow or him, this creature didn’t have the luxury of eating leaves or gemstones. It was specifically designed to be a hunter. This praying mantis was Spike: trying to survive in a hostile but beautiful world. 

Spike knew he was going to hate himself later when this creature ate him for dinner, but for now, he softly exhaled through his nose and the mantis walked past him. He dared not shift around and give away his position. He had to hope the creature would not backtrack, that it would continue a steady approach to the end of the tree branch. Problem: how would he know when to make a run for the line? … No idea? No idea. He waited, silently motionless as a stone. Minutes passed. His legs began cramping, his eyes watery from gazing vigil without respite. Any longer and he wouldn’t be strong enough to reach the – 

NOW! RUN!

Fueled with adrenaline, Spike leapt from his hiding place towards the line. Without pausing, he grasped it and quickly slid down. Half way down the line, two curious spheres stared at him from the branch. Pausing, he met those eyes without hate, and those eyes gazed back, emotionless rocks. Predator and prey, prey and predator no longer; now, they were two living beings, just trying to survive, who accidentally stumbled into the other’s path. The mantis was the first to break gaze. She retreated from the line, hiding within the leaves. Deciding to follow suit, Spike shimmied down the line to his footholds. Near the end of the web, he drew the dagger from his armor and buried it once more into the tree, placing his right foot in the lower hole. Once all his daggers and feet were in place, he made his slow climb back to the ground.

Upon reaching the ground, Spike fell into a heap, exhausted. He wanted to just close his eyes and fall asleep, but a rumbling stomach and a sharp thirst made him reluctantly postpone his desired rest. He rose to his feet, sheathed his daggers, gathered the fallen sore fruits, and approached the cave. Suddenly, he remembered Sir Knight’s voice warning him about the creature and helping him through the whole ordeal. He glanced around for some sight of the knight. He could not find any trace of the warrior. Perhaps, he was hiding in a nearby tree? That would allow him to see Spike and recognize the danger he was in, but Sir Knight’s voice did not come from any particular direction; rather it hovered around him like a phantom. At least, Spike thought it was Sir Knight’s voice. He was certain he hadn’t imagined it. The humming continued buzzing in his ears, dissonant as static. Ignoring the noise, he cupped his mouth.

“Sir Knight,” he addressed the forest symphony, “where ever you are, I just want to say thanks for saving me. Not just from the mantis, but from doing something I would regret.”

“You saved yourself Spike. From both the mantis and yourself.”

The warm voice pierced through the forest symphony and hissing buzz, all the way to his ears. Spike grinned before addressing the forest once more.

"But you told me Finger-face was there.”

“Finger-face?” A bemused voice responded.

“She’s gotta have a name, right?” Spike shrugged. “Anyways, if it weren’t for you I wouldn’t have known she was sneaking up on me or when she was far away enough for me to reach the rope.”

“I could only tell you what you already knew.”

Spike blinked, wanting to ask what Sir Knight meant, but instinctively he felt the presence retreat into the jungle. He sensed Sir Knight leave? He rubbed his head in astonishment. How had he known what he couldn’t see? Perhaps, in the absence of total sight, his other senses had strengthened? Thinking back on the branch, he recalled hearing the tiniest sound disharmonious to the forest song prior to Sir Knight’s warning. If that sound was the mantis, then he may have unconsciously suspected something else on the branch. Had Sir Knight’s warning only emphasized a dim notion? 

He sighed. Hanging around Twilight had made him too scatterbrained and prone to heuristics. Remembering his task, he retreated to his cave and emptied several sore fruits, before storing them on his belt, removing one dagger to lighten his weight, scarfed down a gemstone, and made his way back to the river.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



> Part 6 Paradise or Prison?
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Spike had to admit, he was proud of himself. Not only had he collected enough water to last a siege, but he even managed to fortify his cave base with spears and various booby traps that only he would know how to avoid. Among those traps, Spike dug several small holes, lined their sides with hand-sized sharpened stakes, and covered the pit with a layer of moss and sand; he made tripwires that would release sore fruit liquid on helpless victims. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one who disliked the taste (or possibly the (to him) odorless smell) of sore fruits; Big Cow visibly cringed when Spike offered him the plant, Pinchy shuffled away, and several beetles scurried away from the fruit. He finally found a use for the sore fruit juice as a repellent, prompting him to drench the cave, and the barricade in the foul liquid. He would have drenched himself, but he didn’t want to risk any potential longterm effects. In addition, he created a barricade to place on the entrance utilizing a combination of wonder moss (the long overdue name he gave the regenerative moss), bark, gemstones, cobwebs, and sore fruits. All of this served to deter rather than maim his foes. The stakes holes would only injure a leg, barely even sharpened to pierce skin, and every other tool should ward off intruders.

While out exploring, Spike discovered a black berry by the pond, capable of producing an inky substance when squashed. Eager to test it out, he retrieved a few of what he now called inky berries. Back in the cave, Spike pressed his weight onto the boulder, crushing the berry  beneath to a juicy pulp. Retrieving a small twig, he dipped the edge into the residue and turned to the cave wall. He drew a crude map of Underworld, from the beach to the gem quarries, and pond, marking locations for supplies. It was small, crude, and inadequate. But given the circumstances, it was immeasurably useful. 

With all of this gear, Spike turned to exploration. He had to find something that could help him get home. Hopefully, he might discover a tunnel back to the surface or a paper-substance so he could send a message to Princess Celestia. Anyways, he needed a backup base, in the event the cave was compromised. Lying on his mossy bed, Spike considered where to start his exploration. He was reluctant to return where he first encountered the scaly, hairy beast that chased him. Even with his equipment, that monster could destroy him in seconds. Plenty of creatures could annihilate him given the chance, but the monster could do worse. Spike knew it; he didn’t know how, but he knew it. The monster seemed worse, unnatural, as though it was the alien in this world. So for now, he decided to give it a wide berth. He turned his attention to the beach where he arrived. Crafting a map of Underworlds’ borders seemed logical, and where better to start than the beach? 

From his armory, Spike sheathed a spear on his back, two red gemstone daggers and a gemstone axe on his hip belt beside two water canteens, a pouch carrying gemstones for eating and inky berries, in the event he found paper, and a canteen of sore fruit juice. He left the cave, carefully sidestepping around his traps, and entered the forest, travelling south.

This path seemed uniform to the rest of the forest; tall, mossy trees; plentiful vegetation ranging from clovers, ferns, lichen, and untold mysteries; brown, decaying leaf litter covering a rich, muddy surface when plants did not grow; divine glowing tendrils hanging from far above; grey boulders melding into the forest floor; and a canopy constantly obscuring the distant cave ceiling. Yet, something felt different to Spike. Where shadows once darted, he discerned palpable, peaceful creatures. The hazy undergrowth no longer obscured monsters exacerbated by his imagination. Symphonies of cricketing and whistling became earnest and innocent. Spike wanted to feel at ease, but he just didn’t trust Underworld, not after its denizens tried to eat him. Of course, those were only two denizens and they were unlikely to represent the entire jungle. Even though he made some semblance of peace with Finger-face, he knew she would see him as a meal when next they chanced to meet. The monster that harshly introduced him to Underworld still plagued his memories, tainting his mind with vivid fear.

Shaking himself, Spike climbed over a rotting log impeding his path. He was being paranoid. There was no point in mistrusting every rock, every shifting shadow, and every tree. These creatures were not Underworld as a whole. Be afraid of them: certainly, that's smart. Be afraid of the forest: well, he highly doubted this log wanted to eat him, but stranger things have happened. He turned his attention back to climbing. Gripping his talons into the fungus-infested wood, he hoisted himself to the peak and rose to his feet. Removing fungus from his fingers, the dragon reflected on the irony; soon, he would place his fingers back in the bark. His ears perked. A sound betrayed a creature behind him. Quickly, he rolled away from the sound and drew his spear. His eyes narrowed

The monster before him had six legs on one long, ovular, ringed body. Despite only just reaching Spike’s head, this beast had an oversized, spherical, reddish-brown head sporting fierce black sickle mandibles and four antennae, two situated on the top of its head near the mandibles, and the other short two beneath, creating a beard of fingers. It snapped its mandibles and approached. Spike thrust his spear, halting the creature. Now, it knocked its head and mandibles on the log, generating an eerie knocking sound. Slowly, the drake moved to the edge of the log ready to jump, when his heightened senses detected presence near his back. He leapt away to find another monster, a replica of the first climbing from under the log to join its comrade. 

Against just one, Spike was fairly confident in his abilities and weaponry. But two, and he felt less certain. As the duo charged, Spike thrust his spear once again. Beyond them, he noticed two shapes surging towards him. To his right and left, more monsters rose and, turning this skirmish into a one-sided battle. Grimacing, he raced to the edge, jumping past the snapping jaws and lunging with his spear when necessary. With every second, another soldier beast emerged, threatening to surround him. As he ran, Spike drew a red gemstone knife and triggered its blinding aura. To his dismay, the swarm did not halt for a moment. Even when his flame breath scoured the air, they did not falter. Nearing the edge, Spike prepared to jump, but five monsters rose to block his path. As the swarm closed in, he had nowhere to run.

Incapable of defending himself from the onslaught, Spike’s heart raced, thundering in his chest. All around him, jaws opened or knocked on the log. Sweat dripped down his forehead as his brilliant mind that brought him through everything thus far failed. He had nothing. All around him, mandibles closed shut. But Spike felt nothing. The mandibles snapped at his mossy armor, but could not penetrate. So, they grabbed him. Spike’s knife and spear fell from his grasp. His arms pinned, groped for his remaining dagger. Instead, they closed around a spherical object.

Use your weapon, Spike! Create an opening and get out of there! 

His weapon! Spike had almost forgotten the sore fruit juice. Stretching his fingers, he plucked out the plug and let the fruit fall from his belt. The liquid had an immediate reaction. The creatures around him promptly released him, backing away from the skunk concoction. Seizing the opportunity, Spike grabbed his spear, withdrew his knife, and flung more sore fruit juice at the swarm. They widened their berth, giving him a clear escape route. He raced to the spot, but a few monsters ran to intercept him, ignoring the foul liquid. Sheathing the sore fruit, Spike grasped his spear in both hands and clumsily pole-vaulted over the snapping jaws to the forest floor, landing in a heap. Leg groaning in protest, he struggled to his feet and limped away, turning over his shoulder to find the creatures still making their war cries, long after he was out of sight.

Having put distance between himself and the log, Spike collapsed, panting. When his pulse steadied, he berated himself. If he had been paying more attention and inspected the log prior to leaping on it, none of this would have happened. Honestly, why didn’t he just walk around the blasted thing? Would that really have been more difficult than climbing? Recklessness had nearly killed him. Served him right: he became overconfident in his abilities, and Underworld caught him off guard.

He glanced at the sore fruit on his hip. Empty now, Spike chucked the fruit away. Perhaps he could have recycled it for a canteen, but his rational mind was overruled by his mounting frustration and panic. In the distance, he heard the sounds of rolling waves on a shore. He still intended to map out Underworld. He just had to be more careful in the future. Assuming he lived long enough to have a future.

Taking a moment to rest, Spike rubbed his aching leg trying to soothe it. A snap from the undergrowth and his alert body forgot the ache. Drawing his spear, he aimed it at the leaf litter. A six-legged creature emerged, but not like the ones in the log. This creature had a grey, curved body, plated like an armadillo. Where its head should have been, two antennae poked around. Keeping his spear trained on the intruder, Spike issued a warning growl. The creature quickly flipped to its side and coiled into a sphere, hiding its many legs and antennae in the folds of its armor. So, this creature wasn’t a predator? Spike didn’t want to chance it. Working around the Armadillo-Thing, Spike continued his growling until he reached the other side and put distance between them. 

He cautiously backed away from Armadillo-Thing, who remained cloistered in a ball, until Spike was nearly out of eyeshot. Within a few minutes, Armadillo-Thing opened its underbody and squirming legs, grabbed hold of the floor and walked off. Once upon a time, Spike would have admired the creature’s defense mechanism and tried to copy it, but now his unease intensified. What other less-benevolent beasts did this forest keep behind its leafy jail bars? 

Perhaps, they were all just being trying to survive in this hostile world like the praying mantis or himself. Perhaps, another time and place, they would all be gentle giants. But the facts remained: plenty of monsters wanted to eat him and their survival depended on his death. Shifting through the leaf litter and overgrown clovers, Spike made his way to the distant ocean churning. This time, he kept his spear drawn and ready. 

At the slightest sensation of danger, Spike whipped his spear towards the sound. His mounting paranoia enhanced those sensations into his reality. Spike was incapable of walking five feet without something setting him off, be it a dissonant sound in the forest symphony or a rustle in the undergrowth. At complete odds with this world, Spike spurned its feigned beauty, convincing himself that beneath this feigned magnificence dwelled a truly wretched, vile monster. When he tripped on an extended root, his foot remembered its all too unbearable aching. Using the shaft of his spear, he rose to his good foot and hobbled to a nearby stone. After vigorous inspection, he rested on the seemingly trustworthy boulder. He didn’t like being out in the open like this. Any second, some new beast would mercilessly slaughter him. He was fodder, he was helpless, he was –

Calm down. How do you intend to detect your enemies if your mind isn’t clear?

Spike’s eyes darted through the forest, from the leaf litter to the tree trunks to the canopies. No sign of the source of the voice. He tried rising to his feet, but his stubborn foot refused, forcing him to remain seated. Spike clenched his teeth, forcing himself to calm down. That was probably just Sir Knight giving him advice as always.

No, it had to be Sir Knight’s voice; no “probably” about it. Why was he suddenly afraid of the voice? He’d been hearing it since … since … ? Since he fell into the ocean, before he met Sir Knight. That voice and Sir Knight’s voice were the same, no? But then, how did he hear the voice when he was drowning underwater? Why did it pierce through his illusions on the beach and spur him onwards? Better yet, where was the voice coming from? His brain couldn’t tell: conflicting memories placed the voice midst the forest, whispering beside his ears, or directly in his head. He became frustrated with the voice. Why did this voice prevail in warning him to the mantis but not to the sickle-faced beasts? And were the voice and Sir Knight truly one and the same? His memories of both voices disagreed but then agreed only to disagree before agreeing in a vicious cycle.

This was ridiculous. It didn’t matter if the voice was Sir Knight or just his imagination. So far, it had been helping him and that was all he needed to know. He could not decide whether Underworld was a breathtaking paradise with some cruel inhabitants or a baleful penitentiary that corrupted its inmates into beasts. But he knew that voice was the only reality he could believe down here, and Sir Knight his only friend.

He sighed, leaning back on the rock to gaze at the canopy. Wherever Sir Knight or the voice watched him from, he wondered if they could also see the starry, blooming world around them. Despite his near-scrapes with death, this sight was enchanting. It was truly a magnificent sight to behold, even with the nastier jungle denizens. Besides, there were plenty of gentler creatures, like Big Cow, Pinchy, and Armadillo-Thing. And none of those beasts pursued him to the end; the brown claw-tailed monster left him alone, Finger-face let him go when he slid down the rope, the Sickle-heads halted their assault once he left the log, and even the first behemoth he encountered stopped chasing him once it lost interest. That didn’t make him any less terrified of them or shudder at recollecting their encounters, but it made him pause before condemning them all. 

Spike’s eyes narrowed in thought before jumping with epiphany. With the exception of that behemoth, every creature he’d encountered thus far was a supersized insect. There were giant crabs, scorpions, mantises; he bet many of the other creatures were just massive bugs he didn’t immediately recognize. How had they all grown so big? Once again, he reminded himself that was not his area of expertise. Nevertheless, he postulated that the tree of harmony could have unintentionally imbued several of these creatures with unnatural growth while ensuring their new bodies would not kill them. Perhaps, the insects had already been here and they just nibbled on those glowing tendrils, which could have been the tree of harmony roots for all he knew, triggering their growth. Inevitably, all of his hypotheses involved the tree of harmony, but he reminded himself correlation was not causation. Underworld could have been created by completely unrelated, serendipitous events. Either way, he was an insect in an insect world. 

His leg aches dulled, Spike rolled off his perch and continued to the beach. The ache in his leg extended into his joints, but it was far more tolerable. He just had to walk it out. Plenty of time for that. Passing fallen flowers, he noticed light dancing on the skirts of the forest shadows. With each step, the light became brighter, reflecting a vibrant white aura from the distant ocean into the trees.

In the distance, he saw the tree-line ebb. Beneath him, the soil grew sandier with each step. Finally, Spike took a step onto the beach. A few meters of sand extended before sinking into the rising crystal waves. Light blue stars fallen to earth dotted the shining blue waves lapping at the surface. Spike poked his spear at the rising currents. His spear made an imprint that the ocean colored with its starry, speckled hue. Glancing up, he noticed the shimmering webbed strands hanging from the ceiling and wondered whether they were responsible for this ponderous marvel. A chill down his spine and he realized the breeze was far more powerful here than elsewhere. Considering his proximity to the ocean, it seemed logical. That reminded him to gauge the vastness of this water body.

Turning his gaze outwards, he realized the crystal waves extended for miles before touching the horizon. No end in sight. There went his idea of building a boat to sail away. Shifting his gaze, he noticed to the right shore, the sand diminished, retreating to the advancing tides for several miles, before sharply rising into a rocky, grey, orange striped precipice far above the knocking waves. At the top of the plateau, pine trees covered the edge before melding into the forest, flaunting the waves from their tower. All of which meant he wasn’t going that way. 

A few miles ahead on his left, Spike vaguely recognized where he first washed up on Underworld; a place where the forest, sand, and ocean existed in equilibrium, respecting the others’ boundaries. Beyond that, the sand pushed back the ocean and the forest, growing wider and wider. The sand stretched out like the ocean, touching the cave horizon in the distance with no end in sight. But Spike knew better than to trust his eyes. For all he knew, there could be a perfect route leading back to the surface. Then again, the sand could just become a barren desert where he would lose his way and perish. Or get eaten. He rubbed his chin in thought. As long as he kept close to the shore, he should be able to find his way back. If he kept his guard up, he should be able to fend off most creatures. Hopefully. Still, getting lost was a potentially dangerous possibility that he had not anticipated.

“I really need to make a compass,” Spike thought out loud. “I’ll put that next on the mental list.”

Step by step, Spike carefully proceeded across the sand ocean, keeping the shore close to his right and his spear at the ready. Underworld didn’t have anything he couldn’t outsmart, yet. Still, there was much more to explore, likely other creatures inhabiting those uncharted areas, and he was growing increasingly tired. He could solve the last issue if he found a shelter, but until then he had to scout this beach. It had to end somewhere, maybe even back to the surface. That wishful thought edged him onwards.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Well, he found it. After miles of walking, Spike discovered the shore grew into a vast beach, sandwiched between the jungle and the ocean. The beach had few creatures, but those beneath the ground. It had an end. In the distance, he saw the ocean lapping the edge of the sand, which fled into a tall rocky column, suspending trees from above. So, there wasn’t any way out on this side. All this time, water, and aching legs were wasted. Bitterly, Spike kicked at the sand and watched it shower back down, unaffected. 

The little white particles mocked him in a singsong melody. 

He searched the beach, he searched the waves. 
But the stupid dragon’s quest was in vain. 
Oh, baby wanted to find his lost friends.
But now all he’s found is sanity’s end.
Poor little dragon, you’ll never get home.
Now the rest of your days, here you will roam.
What beast will make you their soon-to-be dinner?
Or will you stoop to kill, become a sinner?
Why do you fret? Abandon your sadness.
Embrace us and find true joy in madness.
We celebrate your death, deck you in pearls.
You’re stuck here forever in Underworld!

He covered his ears and screamed. The voices were now dancing in his head, trampling the life he once knew in gleeful malevolence. The melody merged with the forest symphony as the entire Underworld joined in the fun. Every little shred of his mind was burning with a torrent of emotions; anger, despair, fear, hatred, and even relief. He’d been fighting against everything for so long. Now, he could just surrender. 

He saw Twilight. Her eyes were brimmed with tears. No, he would not surrender. He wasn’t just living for himself; he had to get home to Twilight. No matter how much it hurt, he had to continue, if not for himself, then for her sake. He felt new resolve, when the voices jeered once again.

Why do you fret? Abandon your sadness.
Embrace us and find true joy in madness.

His jaws opened, flames boiled. He turned to that abhorrent jungle.

No, you’re better than that. 

A lone voice pierced through the chorus, silencing them all.

The forest isn’t causing this. The forest is ambivalent about your survival. It has no voice to mock you with. It’s all in your head.

… Mouth closed.

The voices that never existed faded from his mind. Now, there was only the song of the forest. He rose to his feet. 

Shifting his gaze across the sandy terrain, he noticed slight differences in the sand. Firstly, the sand felt silkier and less clingy beneath his feet. He could easily dig a tunnel through the sand and construct another base, underground; that is assuming the sand wouldn’t collapse and burry him alive. Well, if he had support beams or a strong cement substance he could possibly keep the tunnel firm. Of course, that would require more time and effort. At the moment, he was exhausted; every leg joint ached from the day travel. Was it a day? He’d lost all sense of time down here. The point was he needed a place to stay for tonight and he didn’t think he would make a trip all the way back to his cave. 

He shivered. For the first time since he came to Underworld, Spike felt cold. He glanced at the verge of the forest, certain he could find materials to craft a makeshift shelter, and wary of this portion he had yet to explore. What creatures awaited him? He gingerly approached the forest, walking across the grey, white, orange, black speckles, wondering if he would do better to camp on the beach. 

Something in the sand moved. Spike shifted his spear to the source. A red worm wriggled, its pointy-head poking through the surface. Spike had seen plenty of earthworms in Canterlot gardens. Despite their far from attractive appearance, they facilitated plant growth and kept the soil healthy. None of them were violent; just little worms minding their own business. But something about this one felt off, and not just because it was longer than a stallion. This worm’s body had a slim end that widened out into a fatter sharp head, lined with two, parallel rows of sharp bristles. Studying the head, the drake kept his spear pointed at the end while slowly backing away. The pointy-head opened to a hole, another worm shot out at Spike. He narrowly avoided the real bulbous head lined with four curved, vampire fangs around a solitary circle. A light jab from his spear and the worm retracted its fanged head and second worm body, then slunk back into the sand.

He thought the beach would be safe. Turned out the monsters here were just the ones he couldn’t see, at least until they revealed themselves. If there were more of those worms beneath the sand, the beach was not an ideal place to make camp. Sighing, he tiptoed across the gravel, careful not to awake another beast. In the middle of the beach, he noticed a clump of tangled, brown and green moppy seaweed. It must have washed onto the beach with a high wave and become entrenched on the shores. Curiously Spike sniffed from a distance and immediately wrinkled his nose. All around the seaweed, Owlicious-sized several flies darted about, feasting the rotting plant in massive numbers or fighting their neighbor for a piece. He surveyed the scene with a twinge of sadness. Separated from its home, the seaweed became a fee-for-all buffet in Underworld.

We celebrate your death, deck you in pearls.
You’re stuck here forever in Underworld!

“Shut up,” Spike silenced the song with unfamiliar authority. 

“This has nothing to do with me.” Spike began walking once more, “It’s just nature, coincidence.”


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Soon, his legs were too weary and his eyelids too heavy. He had to rest now. He gazed around the forest floor for some sort of shelter. Plentiful refuse, detritus, and waste were strewn across the muddy ground, more so than any part of the forest Spike had seen thus far. Yawning, Spike found a fairly secluded spot. With his hands, he raked the detritus, decomposing leaf litter, and debris into a massive pile. He then dug a pocket in the pile large enough for him to fit inside. Now he needed a door.

He glanced around and noticed a boulder about his size beside a two-leafed sprout. After inspecting the boulder to ensure it was perfectly safe, Spike placed his hands on the stubborn rock and pushed. Already depleted and exhausted, this task was strenuous. Nevertheless, Spike managed to move the rock in front of the entrance, only partially blocking it so he could still breathe. 

Nestling his way into the pile, Spike’s eyes ached with anticipation of sleep. With his two hands, he began pulling the boulder in front of the entrance to his makeshift shelter. From the corner of his eye, a figure, longer than a train, sprinted through the distant trees before fading into the shadows. As he partially plugged the entrance, Spike dreadfully wondered what new foe awaited him. And how was he going to sleep tonight?


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


The knight panted as the final manticore fled. The royal army had won this bout, but at a high price. Countless, noble warriors had given their lives in defense of their beloved kingdom. Many were injured and being carted away to receive medical attention. Some of their foes, who slaughtered his companions, were now incapable of moving and being carted away to receive similar medical treatment. The knight knew their foes would never have treated them with such kindness. Still, the wise and benevolent princess insisted that they could not afford to stoop to their level, or she compromised everything her kingdom represented. Frequently, spared enemies recuperated and feeling too terrified to return in shame to their rulers and grateful for undeserved mercy, would join her majesty’s forces and swear fealty. Most of them had nowhere else to go, or even had a choice in joining the army, being coerced by their ruler. By giving both clemency and choice, the princess secured loyal followers. Ruling with kindness instead of fear brought the kingdom immeasurable strength. 

He was reluctant to trust any of the converted foes. Plenty left when given the chance, some were too dangerous and malicious to grant refuge, and others spat at what they saw as weakness. But those who stayed to bring order to the divided kingdom in the princess’ name, they were the most loyal, courageous, and self-sacrificing soldiers of the entire army. 

Still, the motionless soldiers were a reminder of their mortality. A movement stirred amidst the fallen weapons and bodies in the distant right, prompting the knight to investigate. Stepping across the scattered refuse and valiant warriors, the knight found at the movement a writhing gray stallion with a decorative black and gold helmet and full body armor. A general no doubt. On his chest piece, the princess’ royal insignia was inverted upside down and dyed black. The knight frowned. The defiled emblem was fairly explicative but its bearers, less so.

Kneeling down, he addressed the rogue with firm authority, “Tell me who sent you.”

“Or what?” The stallion sneered. “You weaklings don’t kill wounded soldiers.”

The knight drew a beaker from his belt containing a dark green liquid, harmless in nature. Pinning the stallion down, he pinched the stallion’s nose, prying open his mouth, and force-fed him the substance.

“I’ve just fed you water laced with poisonous night lock,” the knight lied. “Now you can either tell me what I need to know, I can take you to a doctor who might be able to halt the toxin from overrunning your body, or you can sit there and die.”

Mouth agape, the scoundrel stammered, “You can’t … You need me!”

“Do I?” He raised an skeptical eyebrow, “Is there really no one else in this entire army who we’ve taken as prisoners of war incapable of answering my questions?”

Pursing his lips furiously, the stallion spoke, “We were sent by the Chief. He wants to free the world from your so-called orderly kingdom.”

“And who is ‘the Chief’?” The knight stared coldly into his eyes.

“Please,” the stallion whimpered, “don’t make me tell. He’ll kill me.”

“You’d better talk now or the poison will,” the knight snarled.

“Can you promise my protection?” the cowering soldier begged.

“Only if you give me the answer,” the knight calmly replied. “Who is ‘the Chief’ and why did he send you to attack us?”

The soldier’s eyes darted around nervously, “He sent us to distract you.”

“Distract us?” The knight echoed the words curiously. “From what?”

Just then, a deafening explosion shook the ground. The knight turned around to see the princess’ shambled castle on fire. Forgetting the fallen soldier, he raced to the burning tower. Hoping against all hopes, he had not lost his princess.




> Part 7 Fighting a Train
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Edging his way past the golden beetle, Spike returned to his soon-to-be second base with several branches, cobwebs, wonder moss, and glow vines (his new name for the tendrils hanging high above). During his searches, he found an open area on a hill, with a blindingly sharp drop behind it to a few tree branches and the distant forest floor. With no other creatures in sight, it seemed like an excellent location to construct a second base. At the moment, he hadn’t considered what kind of shelter he would erect (much less how), just that it would satisfy his needs for warmth, comfort, and most importantly protection. 

Using his bare claws, he burrowed a vast circular pit into the mud. Around the edges, he poked holes at two-foot intervals and placed in the longest branches, which would serve as framing poles. Once firmly secured, he bent the branches at their ends, careful not to break them or lose his grip to be snapped by the recoil, and lashed them together using a glow vine. He then tied several branches laterally, creating a skeletal dome, and covered the dome with several layers of wonder moss, leaving holes for ventilation and entrance. After several hours, he had a decently firm base. Grabbing the soil displaced from the crater, he packed a layer of dirt onto the wonder moss, blending it into the forest. 

Hours later, Spike comfortably rested on a bed of wonder moss with plenty of water, gemstones, and sore fruits. He was tempted to close his eyes when he reminded himself to set booby traps. Rolling to his feet, he brushed past the mossy curtain covering the entrance and gathered his remaining supplies. Placing them in a pile, Spike glanced at the area, searching for ideal locations to place his traps.

Another hour, and Spike had placed enough snares, pitfalls, and traps to punish any curious creature who came too close. Satisfied with his work, Spike went to lie down on his mossy bed when a figure darted in the corner of his eye. He reached for his spear, only to remember he left it in his shelter. He grabbed a hand axe from his hip. The axe was more tool than weapon, but it would have to do. Spike released puffs of smoke from his nostrils, letting small embers frolic from his mouth. He could sense nothing. Whatever it was, it was gone. Or hiding. Keeping his eyes trained on the forest, he took tentative steps backwards. A brown cockroach scampered away, but Spike didn’t relax until he was inside his fortress. He never liked roaches. 

After sometime, he retrieved his spear, two sore fruits, food and water. He still had so much to explore. Making his way outside, he approached the rows of trees and entered the Underworld jungle. The muddy debris and leaf litter mingled beneath his feet. Nearby forest sprouts emitted a peppery, sharp scent. Soil pressed into his already dirty feet, an occasional pebble pricked his heel. He would wince, wishing he had some sort of footgear, then press on more carefully, ignoring the pain. 

To his left, he discerned the pony-sized creature with a dual sickled end that he encountered much earlier gauging him. With a puff of smoke and one mock charge, old Sickle-butt scurried away. He was getting good at naming these things, and scaring them. He continued forward, one step too far, and snapped a branch. A leaf bounded away from its perch, feet from Spike. On further inspection, he recognized the leaf as a grasshopper; short antennae, long, thin, thorny rear legs, and angular body. Even knowing grasshoppers were primarily herbivores, Spike kept his distance and walked around the motionless creature. Getting kicked with Hopper’s spiky limbs didn’t paint a happy image in his mind. Wow, he could crack out these names like no pony’s business 

The mud beneath his feet became grainy. Intrigued by this change, Spike doubled his pace. A sharp stone on his foot, and he slowed down. Sensing a creature rapidly approaching, Spike reached for his spear and ducked into the undergrowth. A metallic green and blue beetle with deadly yellow and black mandibles raced across the ground, moving so fast even Rainbow Dash would be impressed. Like a flash of lightning, the creature soon faded from sight. Wary of the creature returning, Spike waited several minutes before leaving his hiding place and heading in the opposite direction of Speedy. 

Was it wrong to name every creature and plant that he saw? Spike had to ponder that question as he walked across a wide stick, suspended over a wide, shallow mud pool. Reaching the other side, he shook his head, refocusing his attention. He couldn’t see any harm in it. Naming them would help identification. He could quickly recall who they were and what they could do. Plus, calling a praying mantis the size of a building Finger-face made it far less scary. Anyways, he had to focus on his task. He proceeded to the distant sound of the ocean waves, stopping only once to hide from Wingster, a hovering green and black dragonfly.

Soon, the trees ebbed away. He was back on the beach, but this time it looked different. Firstly, the sand was a red-pink hue. He had to kneel down and shift the sand in his claws before he believed it. Without an inkling where the sand achieved its color, he accepted it as another Underworld phenomenon and dubbed the sand Pinkie Pie Sand, promising himself to show this to Pinkie Pie when he escaped. Of course, the Pinkie Pie Sand wasn’t the only object of interest. 

Further down to the left side of the beach around a pile of rotting seaweed, the ground was littered with several holes, from which creatures only slightly bigger than the log creatures emerged to approach a piece of thinning seaweed. They resembled shrimp, having laterally flattened bodies, but lacked a hard-shelled head or thorax. Curious to see their reactions, he made his way over, spear and sore fruit in hand, and took a step towards one of them. He barely took a step onto the beach before the closest shrimpy creature reacted. Quickly, it hopped and raced into a hole, blanketing the entrance with a pile of sand. So, they weren’t carnivorous, or at least aggressive. Giving Hoppy –  no, there was already a Hopper – giving Diggy and his band space, Spike walked to the shores where waves touched the sand.

To his distant right and left, black rocky outcrops sealed this Pinkie Pie Sand away from the rest of the beach. Past those, there were two smaller beaches consisting entirely of shells and glass stones. There was still an endless horizon, reminding him sailing away was impossible, but at the moment he didn’t really mind. Along the shore, red and pink coral bits and crushed shells dotted the wave lines. He procured a tiny sliver of coral and inspected it, under the distant glow vine light. Chunky, firm, and of course pink. Pinkie Pie would go nuts over this stuff. He smiled at the thought and promised to also show it to her after he returned home. Taking a seat, the gentle waves rushed over his feet, cleaning his muddy toes bit by bit. Putting down his spear, he reclined on his hands and studied the scene before him.

In the distance, he could see large fishes swimming in the waves; their scales reflecting the glow vines like mirrors. Far away, a few long-legged insects floated on the water surface like rafts. The salty fragrance filled his senses as the waves of crystal continued their rhythmic rises and falls. The pink sand shimmered as several Diggies hopped, raced into their holes, and covered the entrance. Spike’s eyes narrowed. Why were they –?

Something’s coming! 

Jumping to his feet, Spike grabbed his spear and turned to retreat into the forest. Searching for the intruder in the sand. Perhaps it was another one of those toothy worms? No, the threat wasn’t from something underground. Or was it? If he could just make it back into the forest, he could camouflage amongst the leaves. That’s when he saw it. Coming over a mound of sand, a demon longer than a train with a circular head sporting massive curved fangs hinged laterally and ferociously bobbing segmented antennae. The black-red body was divided into several segments, bearing countless pale legs that rounded into pointed tips, ending in two elongated finger-like barbs. This creature Spike recognized; a giant centipede.

He wracked his brain for any information on the arthropod. Weren’t they vegetarians? No, that would be a millipede. Now he remembered! Twilight’s arthropods book stated centipedes have modified legs that serve as pincers delivering highly potent venom. They are among the most effective predators of the arthropod world. Celestia help him. Spike glanced at the forest, wondering if he could outrace the creature and hide in the forest. He didn’t like his chances outracing a multi-legged locomotive. Given how quickly it was already darting along the beach just searching for a meal, Spike could only imagine how quickly it would move when pursuing prey. He didn’t have to imagine much longer.

The centipede stumbled upon a covered Diggy hole. It hadn’t seen them hide. It had no way of knowing where they – no.

The monster’s fangs flashed as it pierced through the sand, diving head first into the burrow. Petrified, Spike could only watch as it dragged out a pathetically struggling Diggy in its mouth. The beast ripped out the creature’s innards and forked the mush into its mouth. All the while, severed legs twitched with fading remnants of life. Within seconds, an empty Diggy husk littered the beach. The centipede groomed an antenna in its mouth and then the other, before placing its antennae near the ground. Twiddling like fingers on piano, the demon’s antennae twitched and guided the killer to its next meal: a little dragon.

Shocked into action, Spike’s eyes darted for a place to hide. Noticing a patch of wonder moss hanging on a distant tree, he readied himself to sprint away as the centipede retraced his steps to the shore. Then, he noticed something odd. Why wasn’t it charging him? He wasn’t hiding at the moment; his green, mossy armor was a signal flair against the pink sand. So, why was the centipede taking its sweet time?

It doesn’t need sight to find you. It hunts with other senses. 

Of course! That’s why it could find a Diggy. That’s why it hadn’t charged at him. It must have been practically blind. Having no use for sight, the monster had other means to detect him. Oh no. He couldn’t hide. Camouflage wouldn’t fool it for a second, when it didn’t need sight to find him, to kill him. Like Diggy. Spike’s eyes drifted to the corpse before returning to his approaching aggressor. 

Well, he could meet it head on and scare it, right? He drew his spear and a sore fruit, readying a warning flame and snarl. Even if it couldn’t see, it would feel the heat from his fire. Most creatures would see fire as dangerous. Given his distance from any plants or trees, he decided to intensify his flames. Thinking only of Twilight and his friends, he closed his eyes and unleashed a torrent of green flames, which grew into an eclipsing maelstrom, larger than a mountain. Now, it was the forest’s turn to fear him. 

He opened his eyes. The centipede stopped in its tracks, several meters away from him. Antennae bobbed. Its entire body remained motionless, except those antennae. Spike inhaled and sent a cloud of embers to the centipede’s right. Startled, it shifted the other way but Spike released another cloud of smoke in that direction. Finally, he unleashed a billow of flames between them. The embers soon evaporated, smoke covered the ground. 

Before he could congratulate himself, Spike narrowed his eyes. Bursting through the smoke, the centipede charged like a rocket, legs rolling across the ground like train wheels on a track. The creature wasn’t afraid of him. He just demonstrated that he could burn it to the ground in a second, and it charged without hesitation, only provoked by the flames. Five meters apart, Spike thrust his spear at the demon. It didn’t so much as flinch. He jabbed at its black eyes, but it didn’t even notice. Fangs larger than Spike’s body were poised to rip him in half. When he jabbed again, something finally happened. His spear broke in two and the centipede barreled towards him, only feet away. 

Remember the crab!

The crab? Pinchy? Spike leapt away moments before the centipede’s fangs clenched down, where he once stood. He threw the sore fruit liquid at the beast. That only made it angrier as it doubled on him. Rapidly losing ground, Spike stumbled backwards across the sand, but the monster kept coming. He couldn’t outrace that thing. He tried to exhale more fire, but his throat failed, and he could hardly think. He tripped, falling into the rising tides. Like Pinchy! Spike jumped into the deeper water, swimming until his feet could no longer touch the sand floor, then he swam further. Turning around, he saw the centipede scanning the sand where he once stood, antennae bobbing across the debris for the coward who threatened it and then fled. 

Spike swam further from the shore across the waves about a house-length away from the centipede. Antennae wriggling, head shifting, the demon darted about the shore. Spike treaded the ocean, remaining afloat with minimal effort. Soon, the centipede tired and retreated back up the beach towards the rotting seaweed. Then, the little drake realized he wasn’t the only edible thing on the beach.

He wanted to scream to the Diggies, rush to their side and warn them to escape, but he could only watch helplessly as the beast tore through a Diggy’s burrow and ripped it apart. It then turned to the next burrow and mercilessly slaughtered another. Corpses littered the sand, as the centipede kept devouring them, unchallenged. Within minutes, the pink sand was the sight of a blood bath with hollow, eviscerated carcasses, mangled limbs, broken orange antennae, and decapitated heads littering the beach. Twelve dead, and the centipede finally stopped to clean its antennae in its mouth. Seemingly satisfied with its carnage, the demon retreated into the depths of Underworld to spread more death.

Crawling to the shore, Spike retched on the sand. His head throbbed as relived facing that, that savage gleefully slaughtering a race of creatures he had only just discovered. Approaching a corpse, he stared at the empty husk that was once alive, going about its daily life, possibly even raising a family. Unconsciously, Spike began digging in the sand. He didn’t stop until he made a hole the size of a pony. Carrying the corpse to the hole, he placed it within the pit and covered it with sand. Breaking a part of his useless spear, he marked the grave with a little twig. He turned to the other corpses, and wordlessly buried them all.

He knelt before the line of graves, uncertain how to honor their lives. Finally, he spoke.

“I’m sorry I didn’t protect you,” his voice sounded alien to him. His frills drooped as tears filled his eyes.

“I could have save all of you with one breath of fire but I just—.”

Tears trickled down his face, as he relived their deaths.

“I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t kill.”

Spike gazed at the mounds of sand, half hoping they would say something, anything. Silence ensued, prompting Spike to bow his head. His fists balled, eyes clenched shut. 

“Even when your lives depended on it,” Spike trembled. The wind blew past his scales, the waves rose and fell, and the forest dwellers kept singing.

He cursed the centipede, he cursed himself, he cursed Underworld, but most of all, he cursed his weakness. He should have roasted that monster when he had the chance. He should have stood and fought, not turned tail and fled. At least then, he would have died trying to save lives than survived a coward. But, he had to survive. After all, he had to return home. Then he realized, the true Spike, innocent and unsullied, could never return home. That Spike died the moment he washed up on that shore, the moment he let another creature die by failing to act. How would Twilight and the others see him after allowing that slaughter? What did it matter if he didn’t kill when letting another be killed was murder in itself? Why was it that he alone survived only for all those Diggies to die? Spike knew one thing: he vowed to never let himself become attached to another creature down here.

Something moist pressed into his arm. Spike turned to see a Diggy, about the size of puppy, curiously staring at him. Remaining in his kneeling position, Spike averted his gaze, keeping his heart cold. Still, he did not push the juvenile away.

His armor soggy and smelling of salt, Spike realized the moss made a spongy squishing sound when he moved and developed a distinct salty aroma. Neither would benefit him in the long run. He would have to ditch his current wonder moss armor for a new set. Fortunately, there was wonder moss growing on tree near the tree line, and he happened to have some green gemstones in his pouch for protective spikes. Anyways, he could always recycle the gemstones from his current piece of armor for the new set. It would take a few hours to gather the other necessary materials and then craft the armor, but he needed protection.

He stayed a moment longer, kneeling at the graves with Dug by his side. 


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


With new armor and a hastily constructed spear, Spike made his way through the forest back to his shelter. The image of the centipede scarred on his memory. He couldn’t do a thing against that monstrosity. A deadly demonstration of his fire only fueled its charge, his spear was rent in half, the sore fruit was useless; in the end, all he could do was hide where it couldn’t follow. It was so powerful and dauntless. How was he going to beat something like that when he couldn’t even make it fear him? 

He glanced around the forest. When he awoke earlier, creatures were crawling everywhere. Now, there was no sign of movement save from the corner of his eyes. As soon as his eyes darted to the movement, it vanished from existence. He wondered if every creature was hiding from that centipede. Hopefully, it wasn’t anywhere nearby. The thought made Spike lower his body to the ground and hasten his silent pace. Not for the first or last time, he wished for Twilight, Rarity, or any pony, really. Well, he had Sir Knight. Unless the centipede got him. No, he believed Sir Knight could find a way around the centipede. He was strong, resourceful; had to be if he’d been living in here for so long.

He treaded carefully across the ground, worried that any moment, a fanged beast would ambush him. His base was still quite far, so Spike tried to move without a sound. Not that silence would help him when the centipede had other senses. Still, he didn’t want to draw any attention. He walked across the stick bridge through the bushy undergrowth. Some feet ahead, he saw a leafy shape sprawled on the ground. Spike came closer and immediately wished he hadn’t. It was Hopper. His green body ripped open and his insides cleaned out. Empty black dots stared back at Spike. He closed his eyes but Hopper’s stare remained. Teary eyed, he trembled at the photograph, a crime scene identical to the Diggy slaughters. But now, there was no respect for this once proud creature. The sickle-ended creatures, armadillo bugs, and cockroach were feasting on the remains. 

Spike bit his right hand index finger, suppressing his screams. He wanted to rush in and drive them away, give Hopper a proper burial; recognize that he once lived. But if that centipede was still around, he couldn’t take the chance. So, he settled on bowing his head where he was, and whispering a few words so silent they may as well have been in his head.

“I’m sorry, Hopper.” His throat tensed as he choked, “If I’d beaten that centipede, you would still be alive.”

His hand reached his aching heart, and whimpered, “You were an innocent, noble creature, going about its life, when a monster decided to cut it short. You didn’t deserve,” he glared at the scavengers, before meeting Hopper’s lifeless eyes, “this. 

Accusatory silence, save for the munching of a carcass. Spike steeled his heart and walked through the sprouts and the bushes. He felt kinship with a multitude of these creatures, kinships he had formed before witnessing firsthand they could die. He knew they could, but actually seeing it shattered some happy illusion. The ties he already made with these creatures gave him a sense of connection, being a part of something greater than himself. Now, he was losing them. With no pony else down here, it felt like he was losing his friends.

Avoiding the open area, Spike stayed crouched low in the brush and tediously worked his way uphill. He felt the precautions were necessary. Even if the centipede didn’t need its sight to find him, there were plenty of predators that did like the praying mantis, Finger-face. Where was she? Had the centipede gotten her as well? She may have been very tall and stealthy, but Spike had no idea if she could overcome such a foe. And then there was Big Cow. If the centipede murdered what was possibly the most innocent, harmless creature in the forest, Spike was certain he’d go insane.

Why do you fret? Abandon your sadness.
Embrace us and find true joy in madness.

The nonexistent voice was a dull whisper, but present nonetheless, like a mosquito furtively extracting his blood before darting out of sight, leaving him with an itching sore. Fortunately, he could ignore this mosquito and the sore, at least for now. He shifted through the brambles, past the ivy, and through the sprouts. Pausing to evade an incoming mite, Spike remained motionless in the clovers until the crimson giant scurried past him. 

A tangy scent emanated from the surrounding leaves, Spike crawled under a gnarled tree root. He recognized the surrounding vegetation; he saw it this morning when he encountered that roach. He was almost there. Just a little longer and he’d be – Scorpion food. Several meters ahead, a house-sized scorpion with bulky pincers descended from a suspended tree root to a patch of ground vegetation. Feathery appendages under its body flicked on the ground as it soldiered across the soil. Quietly, Spike backtracked while keeping an eye on the beast. Actually, it looked familiar. Was that Scorpio? The chances of running into the exact same scorpion seemed slim; marginally impossible in the long run, especially in a forest this massive. Even as he entertained the notion, Spike decided to give this Scorpio a wide berth. He didn’t want to be on the receiving end of that stinger, and he preferred to avoid any sort of confrontation.

As the scorpion turned in the opposite direction moving northwest of his base, Spike noticed two twiddling appendages coming over the horizon towards Scorpio. His heart plummeted as the savage centipede appeared and slowly approached Scorpio. When its antenna was in reach, Scorpio lashed at the fiend with its pincers, driving it back. Spike couldn’t help but smile at the one creature capable of intimidating a centipede, and at the knowledge that the vicious arthropod wasn’t invincible. But in a split second, the centipede charged again. Scorpio lashed out with pincers and struck with a venomous stinger, but the centipede bowled through its defenses like a freight train. Entrapping Scorpio with its snakelike body, the savage wrapped its many legs around Scorpio’s tail and pulled the stinger to the forest floor, effectively immobilizing the weapon. Then, it arched its long body over Scorpio’s nuisance of pincers and sunk its fangs into the top of Scorpio’s head. Scorpio’s pincers squirmed in place, his struggles becoming weaker as the centipede began eating him barely alive. 

Frozen in the spot, Spike stared in horror as mouthparts lapped up Scorpio’s limy, liquid innards through a gash carved by gruesome fangs. Scorpio’s body became pale. Soon, a hollow shell was all that remained of Scorpio. The centipede ran its antennae through its mouth, grooming them, before releasing the corpse. Antennae bobbed in Spike’s direction. The little drake saw it approaching but could not will himself to move. The centipede edged closer with each second, but Spike couldn’t do a thing. Halfway there, the savage stopped feet from the tangy leaves. Snaking its head around, it crossed over the tree root and raced east, searching for another victim. It spared him. But after witnessing that carnage up close, he already felt dead.

Body collapsing, Spike curled up and cried. He cried for Scorpio, for the twelve Diggies, for Hopper, and all the victims of this monstrosity. He cried for his helplessness, idly watching as the horror tore creatures he’d known to shreds. He cried, knowing that their deaths were his fault, knowing that he could have incinerated the devil and stopped its rampage. 

He wished he’d never fallen down here. He wished he’d never seen these monsters. Now, he just wanted to die – 

“Spike,” He heard Sir Knight’s voice before him. 

Sure enough, the knight was standing in front of him, kneeling. The knight didn’t bother asking what was wrong. He merely helped Spike to his feet, and led him by the hand. After all this loneliness, feeling another being holding his hand was the most comforting sensation Spike felt since he fell down here. 

Spike followed with childlike obedience. He looked up at the knight. His face was still obscured in the darkness. Still, he could discern green eyes, a long snout, and a silvery helmet. In his hand, Spike held not a hoof, but another hand. Soon, they were back at Spike’s base. Leading him across the traps, Sir Knight brought Spike into the shelter and placed him on the mossy bed. He placed a hand on Spike’s trembling frame. Gradually, the shaking subsided.

“Spike,” the firm voice spoke, “I know you’re upset, I know you think this is all your fault. But you can’t blame yourself. You didn’t kill anyone today; that centipede did.”

Spike stared at his hands, slowly balling them into fists. He growled in frustration, “I could have stopped it.”

“No, you couldn’t. There wasn’t anything you could do to stop him. And that’s not your fault.”

“I should’ve burned it,” Spike choked, “when I had the chance.”

“I thought you didn’t want to become a killer,” Sir Knight’s reprimanding stare pierced through Spike’s distress and his heart.

“It’s just one monster,” Spike scowled. “I wouldn’t have to do it again. If it meant protecting everyone, I could do it. And it would be so easy…”

“And then your next kill would be easier, and the next more so, until you could take a life without a thought,” Sir Knight placed a finger under his chin and lifted Spike’s gaze. “Is that really what you want? Is that really who you want to become?”

“Maybe if it saved lives … ”

“Death happens all the time in this world. You may not have seen it, but everyday creatures perish in their struggle to survive. Everyday, they have to risk their lives and their safety to survive. Sometimes the risk pays off and other times it costs them.  Animals have to eat to survive. Those creatures on the beach, the grasshopper, and even the scorpion didn’t die because you didn’t kill the centipede. The beach creatures died because they wouldn’t abandon their rotting seaweed food when they should have moved on long ago. The grasshopper and scorpion died because they went out looking for a meal in the wrong time and the wrong place. Not a single one of them could do anything to the centipede, not even the scorpion. That’s just the way things are down here. A creature can have all the skills, weapons, and armor in the world but still succumb to another who is simply superior.”

“…”

“If given the chance, either the centipede or the scorpion would have gone after you. Instead, the centipede went after the scorpion. The scorpion died, the centipede ate, and you live to see another day. I know it’s horrifying to witness, but this is not a bad thing; it’s simply nature.”

“Well, nature’s messed up.”

“I suppose there’s a grain of truth to that, but you couldn’t have stopped that centipede if you wanted to.”

“I know, but I still wish I tried.”

“Nobody’s asking you to. Even if you had saved the scorpion, it wouldn’t have thanked you. It would just have seen you as a potential meal. And every other creature would have ran away the second you attacked the centipede.”

“But it would have proved I’m still me, that I haven’t lost myself and become a monster.”

“I think the fact you felt so deeply at seeing another creature perish, proves you are still you.”

“How long can I keep being me? How long before I become a part of the madness?”

“Is that all this world is to you? Madness?”

“…”

“You’re condemning creatures for obeying the natural order?”

“…"

“Don’t you see there’s so much more to this place than eat or be eaten?”

“…”

“There’s beauty here. Peace. A world untouched, blossoming into an ever-growing, ever beautiful haven.”

“…”

“Plants never before seen by another soul, life forms long thought to be extinct, and crystals that kingdoms could only dream of.”

“…”

“But at the heart of it all there’s something incredible, something that couldn’t exist by its own right. Beyond all the creatures, plants, and gems, there’s a miracle that has never happened before. A miracle that makes this world not a prison or a battleground, but a gateway to the purest form of harmony. Can’t you sense it?”

“…”

“…”

“…”

“Spike?”

“Why did you save me?”

“What?”

“When I first fell down here, I nearly drowned in the ocean. Then, I saw you telling me to swim.”

“…”

“I tried to swim to shore, but I couldn’t. I can’t remember much, but I’m sure of one thing. You were there. You helped me reach the shore. But then, you left me.”

“…”

“I would have starved to death, but then you appeared and spurred me on. Without you, I would never have found that gem quarry. I never would have thought to study all these creatures. I wouldn’t have known that mantis was stalking me. I wouldn’t have escaped those log beasts or the centipede. I would have gone insane already and killed someone.”

“…”

“I just don’t understand why. Why are you helping me? And why did you save me from drowning?”

“I didn’t do anything that you couldn’t have done yourself.”

“But you, and – and the voice. Why do you keep helping me? Why do you want me to survive?”

“Don’t you want to survive?”

“After being down here for so long,” Spike stared at his thatched ceiling and walls, with a vacant expression, “I’m starting to wish I drowned in the ocean. That I’d never come to this nightmare.”

“Nightmare? Is that really what you think of this place?”

“…”

“Then maybe I was wrong to help you.”

Spike sat up as Sir Knight stormed towards the doorway. He paused at the entrance.

“This place isn’t a pit of suffering. It’s nature behaving as it should. But if you really can’t see this place as anything but misery,” Sir Knight left the sentence hanging for a moment, as though he expected something from Spike, but quickly disappeared into Underworld.

Then that’s what it will become for you.

Before Spike could speak, Sir Knight and the voice were gone. Sitting in silence even with the forest symphony, Spike feared he lost more friends today and soon he would lose many more. Twilight, Rarity, Cadence, Shining Armor, Applejack, Fluttershy, Pinkie Pie, Rainbow Dash, …


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


The knight reached the princess’ chambers with a handful of soldiers by his side. He called her name, but no one answered. He ordered the soldiers to spread out and search for survivors. His eyes darted around the rubble for any trace of life. A grey hoof poked out from rocks. Rushing over, the knight cleared the debris and pulled out a grey stallion that he recognized as one of the royal guard. Noticing this, the other guards surrounded him and assisted in bandaging his wounds. The stallion moaned and tried to rise to his hooves. 


“Don’t move,” the knight gently laid his hands on the stallion’s shoulders. “I’m going to get you proper care.”

“No,” a feeble voice wheezed. “Have to save the princess.”

The knight tried not to gaze at the rubble and make the stallion suffer over his failure. He feared the worst, and could only pray he was wrong. 

“He had powers all along. He captured her majesty in his dark magic and took her,” the soldier coughed.

“Wait, her majesty is alive?” The knight felt hope in his heart for a moment. “Where?”

“Arch Mage … taking her to his castle,” the soldier stared at the knight’s eyes in desperation. “Have to save her.”

“I will,” the knight soothed his injured comrade. 

Finally at ease, the soldier’s taut body let go, his eyes closed. The knight bowed his head in a moment of reverence. Then, he turned to his fellow knights and ordered two of them to stay with their comrade and do what they could, instructed one to pass down his orders that every other knight remain in the kingdom to protect the civilians from another potential raid, and told the rest of the guards to follow him. He raced down the corridors and left the burning tower, trusting his and the princess’ second in commands to regulate the kingdom in his absence. Running like the wind, he and the knights headed for the dark land. 

> 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.


Come.


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.


Return.


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.


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.


Come.


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.

… Closer


“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. 


“There is a way home.”



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


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!”

> Part 9 The Best Laid Plans
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Spike dug his gemstone daggers into the bark and quickly scaled the tree. After a day of nonstop practice, he could scale over a quarter of the tree in three minutes. An incredible accomplishment but he doubted this speed would suffice for his plan so he pushed himself for another hour. His muscles screamed in agony from the exertion and his breathing was shallow as his heart desperately hammered in his chest. Thankfully, his efforts were not unrewarded; his arm and leg muscles were taut, his calloused hands were hard, and he was exceeding all of his expectations. Two minutes and he crossed the halfway point, two more minutes and he reached his goal near the upper trunk: a patch of wonder moss pinned to the bark with a knife. 

He paused a minute to carefully remove the moss, knowing every second counted. With the moss in both hands, Spike leapt from the tree and lifted it over his head, catching the breeze to slow his descent. He still crashed into the ground painfully, but with a pile of wonder moss he placed nearby and his oh so useful armor, he was up and running in seconds. The drake reached his refuge to shelter himself from the wasps, a cave he discovered while scouting the land. Panting and sweating, Spike hoisted a large bark door, layered with wonder moss, sore fruit, and sharpened gemstones over the entrance and reinforced it with sturdy branches, sealing out intruders 

Four minutes to climb the tree, one minute to retrieve the moss, ten seconds to fall, and three minutes and fifteen seconds to reach the cave. Total: eight minutes and twenty-five seconds. He knew it was an impressive improvement over his initial one hour, ten minutes, and forty second record, but he needed to get faster. He walked around the cave while breathing, trying to steady himself. His head was spinning and the even most insignificant muscles throbbed with pain, but it would all be worth it if he pulled this off. Was he ready? Spike shuddered. This plan wasn’t just insane; it was suicidal. Still, there weren’t any other options; he had to overcome his fears and do it sooner or later. He’d already delayed this scheme for two days just training and scouting. Any longer, and he might never work up the courage. He left to retrieve his gemstone daggers from the tree and replace the moss, deciding a little more practice wouldn’t hurt so long as he could act when push came to shove.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


“This is insane,” Spike whispered once again. He talked quietly so the giant wouldn’t notice him watching from a tree. Sadly, following her wasn’t the really insane thing. A few hours of planning and ruminating on Sir Knight’s words about using an enemy had gotten Spike thinking. He didn’t have any real friends who would follow him into battle, but there were plenty of creatures that would love to make a meal of him. If he could trick one of those creatures into getting close to the nest and provoke the wasps, he might be able to take a piece of their nest while the wasps focused on the intruder. As long as the creature was tough, resilient, and reckless, it could endure the wasp onslaught long enough for Spike’s purposes. 

Roadblock number one: which creature could do that? Spike went over a dozen different creatures before rejecting them. Pinchy’s armor might withstand the swarm, but he would run away to the pond at the sight of danger, not stay and fight. Finger-face was a skilled fighter, but relied on blending in and then striking. The moment she burst out from hiding to snag a wasp she’d be covered, and there would still be more than enough wasps left to deal with him. There could be another Scorpio in the forest, but how could it take on an entire army? He considered Cento, but didn’t want to come close to her; she could pursue him up the tree and eat him before he even reached the wasps. Not to mention, he had no idea how she would fare in combat with multiple opponents. She might overpower a scorpion but could she endure unending assaults? If he didn’t know for sure, he couldn’t take the chance. Spike even considered those log creatures, the Sickle-heads, and the sharp-headed worm, Fang, but neither seemed interested in venturing beyond their homes. Unfortunately, this process of elimination left only one creature and he was following her right now: Behemoth. 

Spike spent a day studying her movements. She seemed to have a marked territory extending several miles and devoured anything she could catch with her razor claws and daggered teeth. Those crabs and grasshoppers never stood a chance. Not even a Speedy could escape her ambush. After a successful hunt, she returned home: a flat clearing surrounded by bushes and leaf litter beside a green pond. Her children would race from the bushes, where they hid all day, and suckle. This time, she wouldn’t let them drink her milk and dropped a freshly killed cricket before the youngsters. Reluctantly, they ate the cricket whole, leaving scarce remains for the few flies bold enough to pick at their leftovers. The mother then curled up like a jungle cat and slept while her little ones play-wrestled within her line of sight.

The more he watched the family, the more he wanted to find another way. There were too many possible factors that could ruin not only his plans but this family’s life. If his plan succeeded and Behemoth overwhelmed or stalled the wasps, everything would work out perfectly. The best possible outcome: the mother returned with a banquet of wasp meat and they went about their day. Slightly less optimal: Behemoth limped back home and spent a day licking her wounds in pain. On the other hand, the mother could receive some fatal injury and perish beside her children. Worst of all, she might never come home, and the forest would have two new orphans. What was he thinking? He couldn’t risk destroying an entire family and potentially drive a unique, undiscovered species to extinction. 

But, didn’t he want to get back home? His soul longed to see Ponyville once again, to find Twilight, Rarity, Applejack, Pinkie Pie, Rainbow Dash, Fluttershy, and Starlight waiting for him. Oh, how he missed the sweet smell of Sugar Cube Corner and the tangy fragrance of Sweet Apple Acres, the brightness of the sun rising over the horizon, and the comfort of his soft, fluffy bed. More than anything, he wanted Twilight, just touch her and know she was real. Yes, without a doubt he wanted to return home, but that didn’t put him in the right. He shook his head and clenched the bark of his branch where he hid. Ends never justify the means; he reminded himself.

And what about the wasps? They were just going about their business like Diggies. What right did he have to lead a potential destroyer to their home? Well, there were plenty of wasps for the hive to endure losing a few dozen or even hundred, but if Behemoth destroyed their nest they would have nothing left. Spike listened to the offspring’s chirpings as he pondered the dilemma, when he noticed several tall blades of grass a few feet to the left of the children twitching unnaturally. 

He squinted trying to pick out the creature sneaking into the leaf litter. Hidden in the undergrowth, the unmistakable body of a centipede shifted into the leaf pile. Unlike Cento, this centipede was shorter, less bulky, and had a lustered white and orange body with a more ovular head. Still, it had massive poisonous fangs and antennae whipping as it scoped out the Behemoths. The mother was asleep, the children blissfully unaware of the approaching danger. Spike refused to stand by helplessly while another species perished and wracked his brain for a solution. He couldn’t race down the tree in time, and even then, what was he going to do against a centipede or Behemoth when she turned on him? 

Remembering his mimicry from the previous day, Spike inhaled and released a chirping cry eerily similar to the offspring. The children stopped playing, Behemoth’s head rose as her eyes darted to the startled offspring. Hidden in the grass, the centipede remained motionless but had yet to back down. The drake repeated his cry with more volume, trying to send some warning. Her eyes came Spike’s hiding place. Rising to her feet, Behemoth approached the tree and lifted her front legs high onto the trunk, her hind legs supporting her weight as she sniffed the air. Spike resisted his urge to gulp. If Behemoth though he was a lost pup and climbed the tree to find him, his noble intentions would be his death. 

Behemoth stayed like that for minutes then she turned. Her nose led her face away from Spike’s perch to the grass on the northern side of the clearing. Putting her feet back on the ground, Behemoth silently turned to her children and flicked her head. Obediently, they darted into the bushes in the opposite direction. The mother drew her body close to the ground and glided across the earth like a phantom, without cracking a branch or even crunching a leaf. Her yellow eyes stared at the brown leaf litter with intent as she drew closer. She stopped a few feet from her target. Her haunches coiled and then she sprang, pouncing at the centipede with outstretched fangs and an open maw.

With no time to react, the centipede was pinned to the ground by massive paws as a jaws clamped down on its antennae head. The multi-legged body wriggled under the assault before its other end crawled onto Behemoth’s paw. Then Spike realized this end had fangs and antennae; this was the real head. Behemoth mistook its long tails for antennae and bit the wrong end. The centipede arched its head and snapped at Behemoth’s paw, not even chipping its armor. It kept biting ferociously but couldn’t pierce the outer hide. It kept struggling and lashed at Behemoth’s eyes. Behemoth narrowly avoided the venomous head but lost her grip, allowing the centipede to slip from her grasp. Behemoth gave chase as the centipede raced to a tree. Quickly, it ascended the trunk out of reach. Behemoth stared at the tree for several minutes and roared, going as far to shake the tree with her massive paws. An hour later, she returned to her resting place, keeping an open eye on the tree. As the children emerged, Spike released a breath he unconsciously held. He did it. He helped a momma protect her babies. No one had to die today, not even the centipede. Honestly, he couldn’t have hoped for a better outcome. 

This encounter taught him some valuable lessons. Behemoth’s body could resist even a centipede’s powerful fangs, so tanking multiple wasp stings shouldn’t be a problem. Secondly, she could not in fact climb up trees so she wouldn’t be able to hurt the wasp nest. Some wasps might die in the fight but the colony as a whole would endure. Even if they died that wouldn’t be the complete end for them. Finally, this momma would respond to her children’s call or to his imitation.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Spike stood at the danger spot, with two gem knives on his hip belt, a long spear on his back, and a stone in hand. One more step and the wasps would spring on the intruder. At the moment, they were seemingly asleep and clung to the nest and covered it like a blanket. It took him hours to work up the courage just to step this far and he had yet to lure Behemoth to the nest. How was he planning to do that again? Spike slapped his head in irritation, realizing he hadn’t even considered how he’d lead Behemoth back to the nest. There wasn’t a hope of outrunning that nimble creature all the way from its home to the nest on foot. 

He mimicked the little Behemoth chirpings absentmindedly. Perhaps, some illogical part of his mind thought she would respond to the sounds. She was on her nightly patrols; he knew she was too busy hunting on her usual paths to hear his sounds. The wasps’ wings stirred and the blanket of folded wings trembled slightly, prompting Spike to lower his voice. He sighed and turned around back to the trees. Two yellow orbs stared at him through the darkness. Just like his first day … Spike relived that chase in vivid memory. His legs were lead; he couldn’t move even as he saw her approaching. This was it. All the pieces were in place for his plan: the wasps were asleep, he was within running distance of the tree and within running distance of the cave, a pillow of wonder moss was in place to cushion his fall, and Behemoth was feet away. He’d never get another opportunity like this. He had to act now or he might as well become dinner or just consign himself to a life in Underworld.

Clenching the stone in his hand, Spike chirped again. Behemoth was meters away, nose twitching in the air. She tried to make sense of him, discern whether he was her child, her prey, or a danger. Remembering home, Spike kept chirping while drawing back his arm. The moment he stopped chirping, he released the rock at Behemoth’s head. Tiny as it was, the stone hit Behemoth’s head with an audible sound. That did it. Behemoth charged and Spike raced to the wasp nest.

His long days of exercise paid off in spades as he barreled to the tree far ahead of Behemoth. He slowed his pace to keep her interested, and sure enough she was hot on his heels. Even with the few wasps flying around her, she was intent on one target. Daggers in his hands, Spike jumped on the tree and climbed. His tail barely avoided her jaws snapping shut and her outstretched claws. The tree shook as she slammed it with her paws. Although his palms dripped with sweat, Spike would not release his grip. Now the buzzing noise was furious. He could see wasps leaving the nest by the hundreds to fight this intruder, while missing the smaller one. Soon the nest was practically empty. Sixty seconds.

He reached the bottom of the nest at last and stepped into the hollow of the tree. Racing to the outermost wall, Spike sliced off a large piece of the nest. He didn’t have time to admire its texture or firmness. Behemoth had already snapped apart several of their brethren and demonstrated she wasn’t going to surrender even as the wasps poured out in greater numbers. The wasps were now mobilizing on the threat destroying their nest. Jumping from the tree, Spike opened the paper like a parachute gliding towards the pillow of wonder moss. Thirty seconds.

He hadn’t accounted for the difference between wonder moss and the nest piece as a parachute. The nest piece didn’t spread out like the moss and slow his fall; it remained rigid as he plummeted towards the pile. He winded himself on the landing but was still in one piece. Sputtering, Spike rose to his feet and hobbled to the cave feet away. Trying to push past the pain, Spike sped his pace. Behemoth was still fighting hundreds of them, but three wasps chasing him were gaining quickly. Ten seconds.

He was feet away from the cave, clutching the nest piece under his left arm, when a wasp locked its jaws onto the nest fragment halting his movement. Spike shook the piece franticly hoping to dislodge the creature, but the fragment began to tear, cracks forming on its surface. He couldn’t let this go on much longer. This struggle put his prize and his own life in danger. The wasps circled him in a whirlwind of buzzing. His armor could take their mandibles and stingers easily and protect him for some time, but if they surrounded him and pinned him to the ground he’d have no way to escape their endless onslaught and with enough time they would penetrate his armor. Then again, they just might pile on the drake and suffocate him. Letting one hand go, he punched the wasp’s face. It staggered, completely surprised. Spike jabbed again, this time between the compound eyes, and the wasp released its grip and fell back. Two more wasps quickly took their comrade’s place and tugged on the piece. He was now losing ground as the wasps dragged him away from his shelter. Forty-five seconds

Spike realized there must have been fifteen or more of these creatures and each second brought another wasp into the clearing. At the moment, they simply buzzed around him, allowing the two soldiers pulling on the nest to do their job alone. Even if they preferred one-on-one duels and wouldn’t attack him all at once, he couldn’t outlast an entire army. Either, he died at this swarm or he escaped and cut his losses. Cut! That’s it! Spike’s talons raked across the nest, snatching a small hand-sized piece, before he released his grip and ran. The wasps fell backwards with their momentum. Using every ounce of his strength, Spike bounded to the cave. Diving into the hole, he seized the bark door and shoved it over the entrance. Outside, he could hear the wasps buzzing everywhere and poking at the barrier. Digging two sticks into the ground at roughly sixty-degree angles, Spike reinforced the wall. It trembled but held strong. Fifteen seconds.

Now, he had to wait out the storm. Briefly, Spike wondered if his foes would not give up. He recalled some species of bees would follow an enemy if they jumped into a pond to hide and simply wait for their quarry to emerge for breath before attacking. True, he wasn’t underwater but he only had so much food and water stashed in the cave. He had inky berries to write that letter and the nest piece, so he might not even have to last a siege. Suddenly, the little drake recognized a fatal error in his plan. With his bark door covering the entrance, he shut off his primary source of air. Even if he got the message to his friends, he would still have to endure the next couple of hours until they found him. He had to leave the cave for air eventually, and the wasps would be waiting. 

Mind racing, Spike sought a solution. He paced across the dirt, trying to steady his breathing. Maybe, he could dig a hole to the surface for air? Sure, while he was at it he could invite the wasps right into his shelter for a party. But what if the hole was too small for them? For all he knew, these creatures were expert diggers, capable of widening his tunnels. There was no other solution; he just had to outlast the army. Sitting on the ground, he voted to conserve his energy and delay writing the letter until it was absolutely safe, for him and his family. Wouldn’t do them any good if they came down just to get swarmed. In the mean time, he had to reduce his dependence on oxygen and slow his heart rate. Miraculously, Spike had a way to do both. Twilight had dabbled in meditation, particularly for her magical studies. He infrequently joined these sessions and knew the basic principles. If he could just relax his body and enter that alternate state of mind, he would hold out thirty minutes or even an hour on a minimum air supply. Hopefully, the wasps would give up by then.

Taking a deep breath through his nose, he filled his lungs before exhaling. His heart was already pounding from all his activity, demanding oxygen. He told it to calm down and closed his eyes in concentration. Eventually, his pulse steadied. The angry drone outside filled his ears, making him uneasy. Ignoring the sound, Spike placed his hands on his knees and focused on his breathing. Soon, the sound dimmed. One minute and twenty seconds. It all came out to an even four minutes. Well, four plus however long he had to wait.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


One hour and six minutes. Spike slipped from his meditation with an aching head and could no longer hear the sounds of wasps. Stumbling to the door, he wrenched it open and gasped for air. Not a wasp in sight. Thank goodness. Any longer and he would have suffocated. Once he had air in his lungs, he began to grin. His plan worked. He had the paper; he could finally message home. Turning around, Spike raced back inside to retrieve his prize. Excitement and lack of oxygen muddled his thoughts. When his focus returned, he had a new problem. Where was it? In his hasty escape, he must have haphazardly tossed the paper somewhere in the cave. He was so focused on retreating and putting up his wall that he couldn’t remember where he dropped it. Squinting, he scanned every inch of the cave. All he could see were his tools, the dirt, and pebbles. Apprehensively, he overturned every stone, shifted through all his equipment, but still couldn’t find anything. He had a handful of the stuff when he reached the cave. It couldn’t just disappear.

Crumpled against the cave wall, a sliver of brownish-white caught his eyes. He pealed the substance from the rocks and turned it over in his hands. Spike finally saw his true failure resting in his palms, far greater than neglecting air. In his carelessness, he must have lost the handful of paper while escaping those wasps. Now, he only had a measly scrap of wrinkled, soggy residue smaller than his pinkie finger. His teeth trembled. It was already a gamble whether the paper nest could reach the princess, but with this pathetic piece, his chances sending any message became slimmer. Unless he found more, there wouldn’t be any second chances; he’d have to send this alien material to her majesty the first time. After storing his meager consolation prize in a belt pouch, he raced back outside the cave hoping to find some scraps on the ground, but ten minutes of searching and not a trace was left.

He kept looking, telling himself he could find something. Spike pulled out blades of grass, overturned boulders, and searched the leaf litter. After yanking another blade of grass, he gazed at the ground he deformed in his search. Spike ripped the grass to shreds, and slammed his fist into the ground. He should have known better. If he ran faster, he would have reached the cave without a problem and gone home right now. Instead, he had get into a stupid tug of war with oversized bugs. Now, he could kiss seeing Equestria goodbye. Tears welled in his eyes and flowed until his eyes stung red. He closed his stinging eyes and curled up on the forest floor. Staring at the forest while lying on his side made the trees look like prison bars. This place was a miracle; the most breathtaking lush world in existence, but he wanted to return home. He couldn’t retrieve paper from the wasp’s nest again. Another perfect situation exactly like the one over an hour ago might never arise again. All the necessary factors aligned purely out of coincidence would never reconvene. More than anything, Spike just lacked the will to try again. He couldn’t do this. Have hope dangled in front of him, let him touch it, only to lose it.

Still lying down, he dug his hand into his pouch and retrieved the sliver. In the palm of his hand, it was an insect. After all that planning and work, his efforts only amounted to this trash. Well, at least he retrieved anything. He had no confidence the substance could work, but he saw no reason not to try. At least, this cruel reminder would vanish. Trudging back to his cave, Spike dipped a twig in inky berry paste and held it over the sliver. For the longest time, he wondered what to write. There was barely any room for a Dear Princess Celestia, much less to detail his precise location or his entire ordeal. At last, Spike settled for two words and crammed them on the front and back. Once the ink dried, Spike rolled up the thimble parchment and bound it with a thin glow vine string. 

Holding the parchment before his mouth, Spike gulped. This was the moment of truth; either the parchment would disintegrate to ash or it would vanish from sight, possibly reaching the princess or failing to reach any pony. He took a deep breath and whispered, “Please don’t fail me.”

With that, he enveloped the sliver in green flames. The edges singed, turning black, but then it vanished with the dragon’s message: Help. Spike. He waited several minutes. Wondering if he might receive signal outside the cave, he stepped into the open with the inky berry paste and writing stick. Several more minutes and nothing happened. Spike didn’t want to entertain his hopeful notion any longer and torment himself. Lacking any strength, his gaze fell to the ground. His legs gave way and he fell to his knees. Claws kept his head from smacking to the ground as an ache grew in his stomach. Figuring his hunger cramps were the source, the drake reached his food pouch for a gem. Bringing the green gem before his jaws, he opened his mouth to eat, but green flames burst free. Spike’s eyes widened and he lost his grip of the gem as a scroll bearing the royal seal dropped from his flames. Filled with excitement, he snatched the scroll and unraveled it. He strained his eyes to make out the text, so he lit up a red gemstone knife. A smile grew on his face as he read the princess’s handwriting. 

Spike? Is that you? We’ve been looking for you for five days now. Some strange interference kept me from getting a message through to you and my sister couldn’t reach your dreams. Both of us have been having difficulty pinpointing your exact location. I’m assuming you don’t have access to traditional paper, so use this scroll’s empty space and tell me where you are.
-Celestia

Spike nearly cried with jubilation. It worked. His crazy-brained scheme actually worked. He raced to a nearby stone with his twig and inky berry paste. Brimming with eager anticipation, he dipped the stick into the paste with a trembling hand and wrote a slapdash message.

Earthquake opened hole at tree of harmony. Fell into earth thousands of feet to water. Trapped in underground jungle with giant bugs and monsters trying to eat me. It’s not safe here. Be careful.
-Spike 

In a burst of flames, the scroll vanished. Within seconds, his stomach ached and flames leapt from his mouth, releasing a new scroll.

Understood. Luna and I will meet with Twilight and Cadence at the tree and begin tunneling through the earth with our magic. As we cannot teleport someplace we’ve never been, drilling is the only option. We have to move slowly so the cave won’t collapse, but I don’t think it should take longer than five or ten minutes. Just stay put and when we’ve reached the jungle, we’ll contact you immediately and arrange a meeting place. Until then, stay alive. You’ll be home soon, Spike.
-Celestia 

He could scarcely contain his joy as he danced and sang without a care, new strength sparked in his body. Underworld threw its monsters at him but he overcame every last one, and now he was going home. Ceasing his celebration, he surveyed the forest in tranquil contemplation. With his friends coming to take him home, this wasn’t a prison; it was a beautiful paradise filled with amazing creatures that would no longer hunt him and miracles the world had yet to discover. Neither he nor the forest had to die for the other to survive. He just couldn’t stop smiling. Too late, Spike realized his fatal mistake. He foolishly did something always led to trouble, the one thing that Sir Knight told him never to do; he let his guard down. Mandibles clamped down on his moss-covered tail with an iron grip. Completely surprised, Spike yelped before turning to look at the aggressor. With black, hairy head bearing segmented antennae and tiny eyes attached to a skinny body with six legs and a rounded, orange abdomen ending in a lethal stinger, this ant had him in its vice grip. 

It overpowered him and knocked him to his belly. Refusing surrender, Spike wriggled and squirmed, lashing out at the ant with his claws and gemstone knife. Scoring a shallow blow on the underbelly, the ant finally loosened its grip enough for Spike to break free. He rolled away, jumped to his feet, and drew his spear. Snarling at the puppy-sized ant, he puffed smoke and embers at the foe before taking a step forward and lunging in a mock charge. The ant flinched at his bluff but did not withdraw. Instead, it circled around and then bulleted at him. Spike leapt out of the way and smacked the ant with the flat end of the spear. It crumpled to the ground, but quickly rose up. 

He almost found this little fellow’s persistence amusing until he heard what sounded like the stampede of a thousand buffaloes. Through the trees several meters away, a flood was pouring from the undergrowth. This flood marched in a horde composed of billions of individuals, some Spike’s size and others smaller, all heading in the exact same direction. He took a step backwards and glanced at the cave. His bark barrier had already suffered abuse; it couldn’t take any more punishment, especially from this horde. At the rate they were approaching, he wouldn’t have time to replace it or hide. Then, Spike remembered something else Sir Knight told him just a few days ago: you can’t take on an entire army by yourself.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


“No, not now. Not when I was so close. Can’t give up yet…”


> Part 10 Death
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Spike raced through the foliage cracking branches and leaves with every step. The sound of thundering feet grew closer. All around him, grasshoppers and crickets bounded away, cicadas, moths, and dragonflies took flight, and every other creature from cockroach to tarantula ran from the approaching army. Many could not keep pace. A slow tarantula was quickly engulfed under vicious mandibles and sliced to pieces. Spike had no intention to fall to the horde so he kept at the front of the fleeing creatures, with no destination in mind just one objective: survive, until Celestia found him. His body was fatigued; already drained from stealing the wasp nest piece, but the tantalizing offer of home beckoned. On his final reserves of energy, he had to push himself like a runner on the final sprint, spurred by the promise of respite. 

From the corner of his eye, he noticed something light-orange flying at him. Spike stepped away as a thin pincer snapped and a bulbous stinger aimed for the kill shot. A scorpion with a light brown back loomed over him, either ignorant or unconcerned with the trillion ants on their way.

“Really?” Spike growled, grabbing his spear, “We’re doing this now?”

Mustering his strength, he unleashed flames above the arthropod’s head and jabbed at its body, careful to avoid those claws and tail. The scorpion tried to snatch his spear from mid-air but Spike was too quick. He feinted a deadly charge and the scorpion readied itself only to find the drake had raced away. It gave chase, certain it would catch up to the tiny creature sooner or later, but sadly unaware that the drake wasn’t running from it but from the black, orange, and yellow sea mere feet behind. By the time it felt the first bite on its tail, the scorpion had no more time to run, or to live. Even as it slaughtered an ant with its stinger, fifty more sliced off its legs with razor mandibles and buried it under a flood.

Spike dared not look back at the scorpion any longer to witness its sorry fate. The would-be predator nearly killed him and delayed him, but he felt pity at its painful demise. Spear still in hand, Spike didn’t bother wasting time sheathing his weapon even as he noticed another scorpion scurrying away. This one had more common sense than its counterpart. Racing through sprouts, past curled fronds, yellow bioluminescent mushrooms, and across logs and boulders covered in moss, the drake doubled his pace, his shallow breaths growing heavier in his throat. 

In the distance, a log, outlined in shadows by the plant light, blocked his path several meters. With no time to race around the obstacle, Spike withdrew his spear and unsheathed his daggers. He scaled the mossy bark, even as he heard the ants approaching and the familiar sound of Sickle-heads knocking their heads on the log. Spike ignored them even as they lashed at him and reached the top of the log. The Sickle-heads converging on him were baffled when the intruder slid down the log and ran off, but soon had bigger worries. An alarm was sounded but cut short. One of their comrades struggled in the jaws of an ant, before a single sting silenced it forever. The Sickle-heads were practically defenseless as hundreds of ants poured forth and overwhelmed them.

Spike couldn’t breathe; his lungs were no longer up to the task. He would just have to do without air. Limping on, Spike raced to find some place to hide the swarm. A single glance behind him revealed the Sickle-heads’ lost battle. Ants carried their corpses away by the dozen, teaming up against individual Sickle-heads before administering their lethal sting. He did this. He led the ants straight to the Sickle-heads’ home. He killed them. Hadn’t he done the exact same thing to the wasps? He didn’t lead the ants here intentionally. He had no idea they were even in that log. Swallowing his tears, Spike soldiered on through the clovers. It was all a part of nature; they weren’t permanently dead. If he didn’t pick up his pace, he would join them, the scorpion, and the tarantula as dinner. His throat was clogged with mucus and residue. He coughed in grating, gravelly spurts. Bringing a fist up to cover his mouth, he released the throaty cough into his arm, coating it with crimson speckles. After pushing himself beyond his physical limits for the past three days, he must have developed a fever. He couldn’t keep running, hoping to stall the horde until Celestia arrived. Sooner or later, his body would collapse under the strain. His vision flickered and the sounds of thunder grew even closer. 

His oxygen depleted brain also raced, searching for a solution. The best answer it could give was hiding in a pond or the ocean, but nearest body of water was the pond by Behemoth’s home. He wasn’t leading those ants back to her children, now or ever. Spike had no idea which direction would take him to the ocean. Through his hazy vision, nothing looked familiar. The ground wasn’t supposed to be in the air, the trees should have been brown and green not particles of black, orange, and yellow, and the ants were supposed to be behind him not in front. They must have circled around or … His mind turned to a brown grasshopper standing motionless in the midst of the swarm. It wasn’t dead, but it didn’t move a muscle even as the ants inched by and even touched it. The ants would march on, leaving the grasshopper alone as if he were invisible. Now that the ants grew closer Spike noticed a few other crickets were being spared on the ants’ march and not a single one of them budged. Were those ants blind? It wouldn’t be a far stretch; Cento didn’t hunt by sight and plenty of creatures had no use for vision. Falling to the ground in an exhausted heap, Spike realized he had no other options. His legs couldn’t move a step further and outracing the hoard was impossible. He halted all motions, not moving a single muscle, not even blinking.

The sound of thunder intensified, as forerunner ants were now feet from the drake. His world spun but he could discern the approaching orange, yellow, and black shapes with mandibles. They were on top of him. Clawed toes tread past his prone body, marching into the forest. Not one of them bit him. They all walked on past him. A few curious ants strayed to examine him before following the horde. Spike felt excitement; his plan might actually work if he could just stay still. Minutes later, the vast horde began to thin. 

Before he could relax, Spike’s stomach began aching with a familiar sensation indicating the princess sent him a letter. He clamped his mouth shut. If he made a single movement, the ants would find him. The stomachache intensified with every second. Embers licked the back of his teeth, struggling to escape. Saliva in his mouth sizzled and his eyes watered but he resisted shedding a single tear in fear of triggering an attack. His gut howled with pain as the oblivious ants scurried past and breathing, the possibility of breathing again, became impossible. As the world trembled, his mouth budged a slight fraction. That was all it took for fire to burst from his mouth releasing the scroll. 

In an instant, two ants clamped down on his legs. His body instinctively reacted, jerking in response. Soon two more mounted his back and bit his shoulders, his body winced in torment as they slashed at the wonder moss armor. Another two ants pulled at his ribs, but the armor held. When another two ants joined the assault, their mandibles stretched the armor. Spike tried to stand, tried to run, but under the weight of the ants, increasing with each second, he fell back to the ground. His body had long been pushed past its limits. Now, he couldn’t even fight back as they tore his armor faster than it could repair itself, as they swarmed over his entire body and smothered him, as his vision blurred with tears and shapes of black, yellow, and orange. He closed his eyes and covered his face, praying Twilight would find him soon. But the ants finally reached his skin and a single stinger pierced his scales into his body.

His mind was revitalized by the pain; shocked awake. His mouth opened to scream and green flames flew from into the trees. That was all it took for a forest fire to start. Embers grew into a blazing wildfire, fueled by vegetation. Dimly, Spike felt the ants melting under the flames. His armor burned as well, but his heat-resistant body remained unharmed. The smoke rose creating black death clouds above the trees, suffocating any creature caught in the branches. The inferno consumed everything, but the monster responsible. His consciousness slipped away.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~




***
…
-
Why?




~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


He opened his eyes to a new world. Darkness covered everything. The glow vines no longer shone from far above, the fluorescent mushrooms had vanished. His eyes began to adjust, revealing his crime. The forest floor was colored gray with the ashes of plants and animals. Feet away, a shriveled, dark ant corpse laid on its back, limbs sprawling in the air. Across the ashes, the corpses of ants, grasshoppers, scorpions, dragonflies, and every creature imaginable sprawled dead on the floor. The once vibrant trees were replaced black, lifeless pillars. It was all gone. Flowers, the mushrooms, the glow vines, the creatures; all vanished in the flames. There wasn’t a single sound left. The forest symphony came to an abrupt, permanent halt. Its heartbeat silently ended as Underworld died. Burning sensations flooded his blood, searing his muscles. His mind grew dim and the ant venom attacked his brain, like a scorching piece of iron pressed against flesh. Spasms of heartburn agonized his body and blurred his dimming vision. He didn’t bother fighting. Death seemed the perfect penalty for his transgression. As Spike welcomed the darkness, a distant, purple glimmer came closer and a familiar voice called his name.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~






> Part 11 Sir Knight
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	“The next thing I knew, I was waking up in the hospital with all of you around me,” Spike gazed at his friends listening with wide eyes. Tears rained down his cheeks as his eyes reddened. He spoke through choked gasps, “But whenever I close my eyes, I see Underworld burning, everything dying, and never coming back again. I don’t care that some of those creatures tried to eat me. They didn’t deserve to die like that. They were just doing what they were supposed to when I came out of nowhere and destroyed their home. It’s not just what I went through that haunts me, it’s what I did.”

Purple hooves wrapped around him, rocking him gently. Twilight rested her face against his and whispered comforting words. He clutched her hoof and leaned into the embrace, still shaking with sobs. His memories of the beautiful paradise igniting in flames marred his mind. 

Gaze turned to the floor, Spike murmured, “A whole world no one ever knew about and now no one will...”

Every pony moved to comfort him, reassuring him that it wasn’t his fault or he shouldn’t blame himself or those ants made him do it. He didn’t believe a single one of them. Twilight broke from the hug and looked at his eyes.

“It’s not gone, Spike,” she smiled. “Underworld is still there.”

Spike blinked, “But I burned everything.”

She shook her head, “You only destroyed a portion of the forest. The fire didn’t spread too far, and even those burned portions will grow back eventually.”

“How many creatures did I kill?”

Her smile faded as she pursed her lips and considered her words, “I won’t lie to you, Spike. Some of them didn’t escape your flames, but you didn’t exterminate any species.”

“The ants?”

“A few perished,” Twilight responded. 

“How many?” Spike’s eyes brimmed with tears.

“I’m not sure, but you didn’t come close to destroying the entire swarm. ” Twilight placed a hoof on Spike’s shoulder, “Besides, as long as the queen survives so will the colony.”

Slumping into his chair, Spike averted his gaze to the floor. Even knowing Underworld had not perished could not wipe away his nightmares; those empty faces, melted by green flames, emerging from the burning trees and clawing him to repeat one word. Why? 

“Spike,” Starlight spoke with a downcast voice, “none of this is your fault. It’s mine. I should have gone with you to the Tree of Harmony but I knew how much this meant to you feeling independent and I just—.”

“No, it’s mine,” Fluttershy sniffled. “I saw you go into Everfree Forest from my cottage, and instead of following you like a good friend, I just watched, thinking you could handle it.”

“I saw you going in from my cloud and what did I do? Go right back to sleep. Some friend, huh?” Rainbow Dash sighed, “I’m the one you should be blaming.

“If any pony’s to blame it’s me,” Twilight’s expression revealed her profound regret. “I never should have let you go to the Everfree Forest alone in the first place, and if I waited a few minutes when we reached Underworld before asking Princess Celestia to send that third scroll, you wouldn’t have given your position away to the ants.”

“No,” Spike growled, turning to the table and resting his hands and face on the surface. “You just don’t get it at all.”

“Get what?” Applejack asked. 

“I don’t blame any of you for letting me go off alone in Everfree or even for sending a message at the worst possible time,” Spike glanced at Twilight. “I blame myself for losing control.”

Stern-faced, Twilight reproached him, “Spike, you didn’t decide to use your fire breath on the forest. Those ants triggered your reaction when they stung you. It was an accident.”

“I know but,” he dropped his gaze, “I still broke my dragon code. I killed.”

“You didn’t mean to,” Rarity placed a hoof on his left shoulder. “Spike, you’re a gentle drake, sweet and kind. You’d never intentionally hurt anyone. But you were exhausted and mentally fatigued which exacerbated your fever. You were in no state of mind to control any of yourself.”

“You still don’t get it.” The drake subconsciously traced a finger along the table, lost in heavy contemplation, as he stared at the wall. “How could you understand? You never saw any of it. The creatures, the trees, the plants, or the miracle,” Spike shook his head. “The forest trusted me with its greatest secret. It showed me that I shouldn’t grieve at death because nothing there truly died. And how do I repay it? By setting it on fire and permanently killing those inhabitants. Sir Knight was right. Maybe, I never deserved to survive.” 

Tears streaming down his face, Spike buried his face into the table. His friends stood by, uncertain how to comfort him. At last, Twilight walked over and wrapped a hoof around Spike’s head, resting his crying face on her shoulder. He could not reciprocate the embrace so he sank into her purple fur. Rarity’s white hoof stroked his back, as one by one, their friends gathered around to reassure him. When they parted, one question lingered on their minds. 

“So, who is Sir Knight?” Pinkie Pie turned to Twilight, “Is he some super-duper secret dragon warrior that served a princess before Celestia and Luna?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Twilight rubbed her chin. “But the name sounds familiar.” Suddenly, the purple alicorn jolted, her eyes widening with epiphany. Her horn glimmered with a violet aura before she vanished from thin air.

Spike sat up straight, wondering if Twilight had the answers. In her vast collection of books, there had to be some mention of a time billions of years ago and of a knight, lost in the pages of history. If she had an ancient tomb detailing Sir Knight even as a footnote, Spike swore he would proclaim the knight’s deeds to the ends of Equestria. It was the least Sir Knight deserved for helping him. With a flash of light, Twilight returned levitating a large cardboard box. Placing the box on the table, Twilight hastily opened the brown lid and rummaged through the contents. She dumped out several items, from childhood picture books to photographs of her family and parcels of paper with scribbles. Spike recognized several homework papers from her days at Canterlot Academy and old letters from her brother, but could only fathom what illusive article she sought in this sea of memory. An excited inhale, and Twilight retrieved a single parchment of paper, lacking the traditional header of her homework or letters.

She handed him the paper. As he held it in his hands, several friends circled him, expecting some dark secret incantations. The paper held something far more chilling for Spike who widened his eyes. Her friends narrowed their eyes, tilted their heads, and gave Twilight frankly confused glances. On the parchment was a sloppy, simplistic drawing composed with colored markers of a tall purple and green dragon with silver armor and a large sword in hand. The ponies stared in bafflement, wondering why Twilight was so excited by this picture, likely created by a toddler. Spike never moved his eyes from the figure. Even with the poor quality, he recognized the noble frame, the strong body, and most of all those piercing green eyes.

“Spike,” Twilight couldn’t make Spike look away, “did Sir Knight look something like this?”

Slowly, his trembling head nodded. Her friends now stared at the drawing with renewed interest. Spike blinked, trying to make sense of this faintly familiar picture. “Wh-what is this?”

“You drew it when you were a little baby,” Twilight’s voice sent chills down his spine, as he remembered. “Do you remember when we were children? Sometimes we played a game where I was a princess and you were a brave knight who would rescue me and help me rule my kingdom. You always called yourself Sir Knight.”

Spike still didn’t understand what it meant. “Are you saying I made up someone as a kid who happened to be real?”

“No, Spike.” She looked reluctant to speak but Spike deserved to know her theory. “I think Sir Knight was never real to begin with. I think you made him up.”

Silence. Outside, the sun’s first light touched the castle where the most audible noise was shallow breathing and the terrified pounding of a little drake’s heart. Spike quivered as his heart skipped a beat, but he quickly responded, “I saw him, Twilight.”

Twilight nodded gently and spoke, “I don’t doubt that. But I think he served as a sort of coping mechanism for you. I mean, you were all alone down there, and you needed a friend. So you may have subconsciously drawn from your childhood to make a companion.”

“But he was so real. He gave me the advice I needed to make it on my own. He told me what I needed to survive, how to ward off predators, why I had to make it so I could get back home. He helped me see the beauty of that world,” Spike met her gaze. “I couldn’t have done any of that without him.”

“Actually, I think you did.” Twilight felt Spike’s eyes piercing her. “Remember what Sir Knight said whenever you thanked him or asked for his help? ‘I could only tell you what you already knew,’ ‘I didn’t do anything that you couldn’t have done yourself,’ and ‘that’s all I can do, little drake. I don’t have the ability to do anything but talk to you.’”

“That’s because he’s a ghost,” Spike refuted. “He couldn’t break his,” he struggled for the words, “ghost code.”

“Or it was you all along.” Starlight interjected, excited by this theory. “Remember when you washed ashore and nearly starved until you saw him egging you on? I bet that you were forcing yourself to move, that you were the one telling yourself not to give up.”

“And the logic that he used to persuade you to survive so you could return home,” Rarity chimed in, “maybe that was your logic all along.”

“Studying other critters and using their skills,” Applejack pointed her hoof, “that could have been yer idea.”

“No,” Spike’s protest went unheard as Pinkie Pie piped up.

“Oh! Oh! Oh!” She raised a hoof excitedly. Twilight nodded at her, “All those times when you thought he was calling you to warn about a bug, it could have been your senses thinking something was off. Or whenever he gave you life saving advice, that could have just been your brain’s advice.”

They all took a moment to stare at Pinkie Pie, surprised by her keen observations. In this moment, Spike slammed his fist on the table, startling them.

“You’re all wrong,” he gritted his teeth. “He is real. Nobody else could have saved me from drowning or led me to the first gemstone quarry when I was nearly dead from hunger.”

“Well,” Rainbow Dash pensively pursed her lips. “You could have made it to the shore if you swam into the right current. I’ve fallen into the ocean a few times while flying, and I managed to reach the shore by getting into the currents that pulled me to land. If you were really hungry, you’d probably want to find food so as long as your nose wasn’t broken or something you could definitely track down a gem quarry.”

“So that’s it? I’m just insane?” Sparks flew from Spike’s mouth, hissing on the ground. 

“No pony’s calling you insane,” Twilight interrupted. Spike could see her mentally scolding herself for not considering her potentially offensive implications. “We’re just saying that Sir Knight might not have been real. That doesn’t make you crazy.”

“What else do call seeing something that wasn’t real?” Spike scowled, brimming with angry tears. He hunched over the picture laid on the table. His tears dripped onto the paper, soaking the worn parchment. Twilight quickly repackaged the box, slipping away the paper from the table. She considered giving him space, when his gaze became vacant. “If he was just my delusion, how did he know about Underworld’s miracle? Did I sense that too? Or was it never real?”

No pony dared to answer. Spike looked at each of them, hoping they were wrong, that all his trials hadn’t been meaningless. He stepped off the table and walked to the castle door. 

“Where are you going?” Twilight raced to stop him.

“I’m going back to Underworld,” mouths gaped as Spike declared his intentions, “to prove Sir Knight is real.”


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



On Twilight’s back, Spike studied the forest as they walked through the trees. Twilight was right; most of the forest escaped his flames. The trees brimmed with pink and yellow bromeliads, giant red toadstools with white speckles and bioluminescent mushrooms protruded from the ground, and Underworld still sang its never-ending symphony. Twilight’s glowing horn pierced the darkness, illuminating their path and driving away several curious insects. As every pony marveled at the unparalleled vegetation, Twilight studied the forest with scholarly intrigue. Spike spurred them forward, reminding them of his task. 

Finally, the clearing came into view. Leaving the sea of trees, they entered the clearing and found the black and orange cave where Spike met Sir Knight. Jumping off Twilight’s back, Spike raced to the cave, desperate for the answers. He could hear their hooves racing to catch up, as he reached the dark gash. The darkness engulfed him as he returned to the place that had been his sanctuary. After spending so much time with Twilight’s illumination, his eyes could not adjust to the darkness. Stumbling forward, Spike groped through the vacuum but could only feel the sand beneath his feet. His friends were coming closer; their hooves just outside the cave. Flickers of magical illumination broke through the shadows. 

As purple light filled the room, Spike absorbed the world he had left behind in full detail. Four spears leaned against the wall in a row, their heads still sharp. Beside those, five crimson gemstone daggers and three gemstone axes lined the floor and twelve hollowed sore fruits canteens circled his work stone. The bed of wonder moss still rested against the corner and near the center the filtration cone still hung from its sticks, even his spare glow vines, leaves, and unused bark remained in place. His tools, his water, his gems, everything was right where he left it. This gave him a strange sense of pride that his tools hadn’t moved and he admittedly felt slightly nostalgic.

“Whoa, Spike,” he turned to Rainbow Dash who stared at his weapons, “you did all of this?”

Spike nodded, “I didn’t have much else to do.”

Pinkie Pie eyed the mossy bed and grinned, “Hey, Spike. Can I – ?”

“Go nuts,” Spike gestured with a hand, prompting the pony to leap onto the plant. She rolled over the tendrils like a happy dog.

“This feels nice,” she cooed. Spike couldn’t suppress a brief smile at her antics. 

Rarity examined his collection of gemstones, turning a pristine emerald over with magic. She had never seen such a rich green hue anywhere in all of Equestria, much less in another emerald. In her line of business she worked with many dazzling gems but they all paled in comparison to these vibrant, breathtaking beauties.

“You can have them if you want,” Spike told her.

“Why, thank you darling,” Rarity beamed and poured through the other gems.

“So what exactly are we doing here?” Starlight Glimmer asked him as he approached the left cave wall.

Engrossed in his task, Spike did not hear her question and instead traced his claws across the wall. The others turned their attention to him as he searched with unclear motivations. His body tensed and he exhaled sharply, as his claws sank into a gash carved into the stone incongruent with the rest of the cave wall. Body pulsing with excitement, he searched for the next mark. Sure enough, his claw tips dipped into a groove carved into the cave. Before he could search for the next mark, Twilight illuminated the shadowed rock. Stepping back, Spike beheld his proof. Etched into the wall was Sir Knight’s command: Survive.

He turned to Twilight and pointed at the word, “See, Twilight? When I first met Sir Knight, he carved this into the wall with his sword and told me this was my goal,” Twilight moved closer to inspect the marks. She squinted as she ran her hoof across the letters. Spike eagerly continued, “If the message is here, that means Sir Knight has to be real.”

Twilight pursed her lips and took a step back, allowing the others to view the word. Spike waited for her to concur with this evidence, only to find a pensive expression drawn across her face. 

“Twi? I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings.” He blinked, but the expression remained on Twilight’s face. “I didn’t want to be rude or anything. I just wanted to prove Sir Knight was real. You understand, right?”

“I’m not mad, Spike.” Twilight turned to him with a pained expression. “I just wish I didn’t have to say this but …”

“Say what?” Spike cocked his head, twiddling his fingers nervously.

She didn’t respond. Quickly, she put on a smile and shook her head, “No, it’s nothing. You were right. I am just mad that you were right and I was wrong and—”

“Twilight,” Spike folded his arms. “You’re not a very good liar. What aren’t you telling me?”

Her ears drooped, “It’s just that … well,” she turned to the word, “this looks like your handwriting.”

Spike’s jaw dropped. The world was spinning. He stared at the words carved into the stone, hoping she was wrong. Racing to the wall, he traced his fingers across the letters. Those shapes, that style; it all felt like his handwriting. Stepping backwards, dreadful realization dawned on Spike. Sir Knight was just him and the miracle of Underworld was a fantasy, both created for the sole purpose deluding a silly drake into loving this forest. 

“But that’s what confuses me,” Twilight interrupted Spike’s thoughts. “This rock looks closely related to corundum, the second hardest mineral in existence. I doubt you could carve this with your teeth, much less your claws. If you had a diamond you could write this word, but judging by the minerals you collected I don’t see any way you could have made this message on your own.”

“Wait,” Rarity interjected, “Spike said he didn’t have any gems when Behemoth first chased him into this cave. He’d only have bits of rock from the cave floor. It would take at least a week to make this, and he wasn’t down here long enough.”

“Then, how did this get here?” Starlight pointed at the word. 

“Unless it was already here before Spike arrived, which would indicate someone lived here a long time ago,” Twilight narrowed her eyes, “then I’m not sure.”

“These marks look fairly recent.” Applejack studied the words and turned to Twilight, “I know ya said that ya didn’t think he could break through it, but are ya sure Spike couldn’t do this on his own?”

Spike folded his arms in thought, “I’ve never tried.” His friends all turned to the sound of his voice. He stared at the words in thought. Did he dare try? If he succeeded, that sealed it: Sir Knight was a lie, nothing in Underworld ever lived twice, and he, Spike the dragon, was guilty of killing several forest creatures forever. On the other hand, failure not only meant he was guilty but also many questions left unanswered. How was Sir Knight, a character from his childhood, real? Where did he come from? Why was he inexplicably tied to Spike? Most importantly, what was he? Spike rested his claws on the message, lost in his own thoughts. After what felt like hours, he pivoted around, facing his friends. 

He considered what to say, how to ask them and make them understand. Then, he remembered these were his friends. He addressed them with honesty, “Could you all go outside? I want to try talking to him one last time.”

They all looked concerned, but each signaled their understanding verbally or physically. Each left the cave after giving him an individual sign of their support. Applejack and Rainbow Dash rested their hooves on his shoulders, Fluttershy smiled, Pinkie Pie wrapped him in a bear hug, and Starlight, Rarity, and Twilight offered him words of encouragement. They weren’t particularly poignant words but they were exactly what he needed. As his friends left the cave, Twilight’s illumination evaporated from the darkness. Alone again, Spike reached a trembling hand beneath the rock, even as his eyelids grew heavy.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



> Part 12 A New Task
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	“What are you? What do you mean to me?” Spike directed his questions to the word carved into the rock. Suddenly, he was aware of a tall figure who slipped into the cave unnoticed. He turned around and delayed a happy reunion to ask, “Did I make you up all along, did I make everything up? Did I imagine that creatures die and then live again? Was I really alone down here?”

“You tell me.”

“Because you don’t exist without me?” Spike sulked.

“No.” The knight knelt down and rested a kind hand on Spike’s shoulder, “Because what you believe is what truly matters.”

Spike narrowed his eyes, “I don’t understand.” 

“We define our own realities. I can’t force you to believe in me or everything you’ve seen. That choice belongs to you.”

“But even if I believe, that doesn’t mean you exist. Does it?”

“Your choice to believe makes me exist very close and very near to your heart,” the knight smiled.

“But will any of my friends see you? If they can’t see you, doesn’t that mean you’re not real?”

“Perhaps, but then again perhaps not.”

“You don’t know?”

“You haven’t decided.”

“…”

“…”

“Well, you’re real to me. I don’t know if that makes me insane, but I believe in you. Even if you’re not physically there, you’re still there. I know because you’re a part of me or,” Spike nearly lost himself in the thought, “maybe I’m a part of you. One way or another, we’re connected. So you must be real, at least to me.”

Sir Knight gave no response, but nodded in agreement.

“But is the miracle of Underworld real? Please tell me that isn’t my imagination.”

“Did you believe in it before you saw it?”

Spike shook his head, “I only really understood when I opened my mind.”

“Having seen it personally, do you now believe it could exist regardless what your logic says?”

“Nothing down here should exist. This place shouldn’t exist in its own right. But I guess there is a difference between ‘should’ and ‘could.’ Given everything I’ve seen, I think, yes, that miracle could exist in a place like this. Even if it didn’t, this world is a miracle in itself.”

“Even with its flaws and dangers?”

“Especially with its dangers. It makes the existence of beauty so much more precious.”

“Indeed.” The knight chuckled and Spike’s lips unconsciously curled into a smile. Waves of comfort washed over him as they shared a truly enlightening moment. The air around him changed minutely and Spike realized their time together was coming to an end.

“One last thing. You’ve been guiding me since the beginning. Telling me how to survive. Well, I’ve survived. But now, after what I did, I’m not sure surviving is what I want anymore. I want to move on. I want to get back to my life before this whole mess happened. But I don’t know how. Please, tell me how to forget burning those creatures.”

“I can’t make you forget your actions, and even then forgetting might not be the answer. When repress our feelings, I doubt it does anyone around us any good.”

“Then what do I do? If you can’t help me, who can?”

“Think, little dragon. Why did you want to survive?”

“I wanted to get back home to my friends.”

“Face your actions. But do so, knowing they are forever by your side. With them, your task is no longer merely surviving.”

Sir Knight turned to the wall where he wrote “Survive” and motioned Spike to follow him. He drew his sword and plunged the tip into the rock, as though it was butter. He reached for Spike’s tiny hands and placed them on the hilt beside his burly hands. Together, they wrote one new word, slicing through the stone with no effort. As Sir Knight sheathed his sword, he placed Spike’s palm over the newly formed marks, letting him absorb the new message.

The knight turned to Spike, “Your new task will not be easy, but now, you no longer have to rely on yourself alone or me.”

“I’m just,” Spike pulled his hand back, “I’m not sure I deserve to.”

“Your friends certainly want you to. They’ve journeyed all the way down here to give you closure and never once pushed you away. You don't have to forgive or forget but you do have to move on. If not for yourself, then for your friends. They worry about you and will go to any lengths to help you. Friends like that are hard to find,” Sir Knight looked at him with another compassionate smile, “and they love you, Spike. Don’t take that for granted.”

As the vision dimmed and the shadows grew, Sir Knight addressed the drake for the final time. “I’ve done my duty. I’ve helped you survive this world so you could return home. What happens now, is up to you. But remember, there is no greater miracle than reuniting with your loved ones.”


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


“What? Impossible!” Arch Mage stared in horror as the castle doors fell, revealing Sir Knight with a sword in hand. His body was battered, discolored with bruises, but he stood before the wicked wizard like a vengeful phantom. Trapped in her bubble, the princess looked on, bliss evident in her eyes. Arch Mage had yet to complete the power transference and knew he had to buy time, “I cast you into the earth. You should be dead.”

The knight raced through waves of foes, cutting them down with ease. Behind him, monsters from deep within the earth joined his assault, pushing back thousands of soldiers as Sir Knight made a beeline straight for the Arch Mage. The princess grinned. Somehow, her knight had befriended the creatures banished beneath the ground and now led them. She never ceased to marvel at his bravery. Quickly, the princess prepared a spell. All she needed was one chance to empower Sir Knight and Arch Mage wouldn’t stand a chance. The stallion raised his staff, ready to summon a crimson bolt. Sir Knight was feet away when Arch Mage released his lightning; both were staking everything on their next move. Sir Knight intercepted the lightning with his sword, barely halting the flow of electricity from overwhelming his body. Arch Mage intensified his lightning, hairline fractures formed on the blade. At that moment, Sir Knight released a dagger hidden in his sleeve at Arch Mage. The stallion snorted as he easily plucked the blade from midair, but realized the dagger was only a distraction as Sir Knight’s sword imbued with powerful lightning flew into the princess’ bubble. 

She was free. In an instant, she threw the sword back to her savior, imbued him with magical strength, and fired a concentrated blast straight at the tyrant. He barely had time to shield himself, as the aura burned his mane and nearly blinded him. Sir Knight swung his sword at the emperor’s staff. They made contact and sent a shrill ringing through the land. Their powerful magic collided, flooding the entire castle with white light. SNAP! In one final burst, the light vanished. The wizard’s staff splintered in half. Deprived of his magical weapon, the princess sealed the mage in her own impenetrable bubble. Seeing their leader captured, the remaining soldiers fled. The monsters howled with battle cries of victory. 

“I don’t understand,” Arch Mage growled through the bubble, “How did you survive that fall?”

Sir Knight stared at the emperor, who shriveled as the princess drained his remaining magic. He opened his lips and spoke in a ragged voice that had seen trials, “I don’t expect you to understand. The thought of her majesty suffering under you spurred me on, kept me from dying. Knowing I had to return to her was all I needed to survive.”

“Arch Mage,” the princess glowered, sending dark chills down the wizard’s spine. “For crimes against Equestria and the royal guard, I sentence you to imprisonment in Tartarus. There, you will spend the rest of your days for attempting to usurp the throne.”

In a flash of lightning, the bubble and Arch Mage vanished. With the battle won, she turned to her knight and tackled him, wrapping her hooves around him. Slowly, he returned her embrace, still ashamed he allowed this situation. The princess sensed this reluctance as she took a step back and looked at him with confusion.

“Forgive me, your majesty.” He knelt on the ground and bowed his head. “In my foolishness, I let him take you and nearly endangered Equestria.”

She covered his lips with her hoof and smiled kindly, “None of us could have foreseen these events. Not you or I. The only villain here has been dealt with, and will never plague Equestria again. And you, my brave knight gave me courage when I had none. You’ve ensured peace for generations. I’m happy to have you home.” 

They shared another embrace, overjoyed at their reunion, before turning to the castle doors and returning home. 

“Twilight, Spike! It’s time for dinner!” Twilight Velvet’s voice sounded from the kitchen.

Twilight removed her crown and turned to Spike, “Thanks for doing this, Spike. It’s been so much fun.”

To her surprise, Spike bowed once again, “Anything for you, your majesty.”

She chuckled then dropped into a fit of laughter, which Spike soon joined. They fell on the floor guffawing. When the laughter subsided, Twilight laid on the floor gazing upon the drake. She couldn’t help smiling.

“Hey Spike,” she tapped her fore hooves nervously, “maybe we could do this again sometime?”

“Anything for you, Twilight,” Spike smiled as they stood back up.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Snapping herself from a daydream, Twilight stared at the cave with concern. After nearly half an hour, there was no visible movement coming from the cave. She did feel a slight change in the air emanating from the cave but no sign of Spike. The alicorn didn’t want to enter the cave and potentially disrupt Spike, but she was getting worried. Just then, Spike’s figure emerged from the darkness. He tackled Twilight in a hug, digging his face into her fur. 

“Spike?” Twilight noticed tears on Spike’s face, tempered with a smile. “So, what did you find out?”

“It doesn’t really matter,” Spike wiped tears from his eyes. “Sir Knight told me exactly what I needed to hear. I haven’t forgiven myself, I’m not sure I ever will, but now that I have all of you I’m ready to move on. You’re all the strength I need,” He smiled at his friends and touched his heart. “It feels like a huge weight’s been lifted off my chest.”

Baffled for a moment, the ponies stood confused at the dragon’s sudden change in demeanor but when Pinkie Pie broke the silence with a cheer, the mood quickly lightened. Twilight rubbed Spike’s little head, until Spike looked up with an adventurous grin.

“Hey, Twilight,” he excitedly beamed, “Do you think we could all go around Underworld a little? There’s so much I want to show you. Pinkie Pie’s got to see the  Pinkie Pie Sand, AJ could use the sore fruit as pest repellent for her apples.” Spike widened with new ideas, “I’ve got to introduce Rainbow Dash to Speedy so they can race, and Big Cow would love to meet Fluttershy.”

“This isn’t a petting zoo, Spike.” Twilight interjected. 

“Come one, Twilight. Ever since we got here you’ve been staring at the glow vines and wonder moss,” Spike teased. “I know you want to collect samples.”

He wasn’t wrong. One of first things on her mind at seeing this world was how the plant life functioned. Of course, Twilight didn’t want to take any risks without receiving her friends’ approval and proceeding with utmost caution. 

“I wouldn’t mind doin’ a little explorin’,” Applejack smiled at Twilight.

“Sounds like fun,” Rainbow Dash smirked. Gradually, her friends all voiced their interest in exploring the jungle. The loudest voice was Fluttershy, who so very much wanted to meet the animals. 

“Alright, that settles that. But we have to promise to stick together at all times.” Twilight turned to Spike, “I’m sure Fluttershy could handle any creature that comes our way, and I could fight it off if needed, but are you really ready to go through this place again after everything you’ve been through?”

“Yes, I’m ready to face this world with all of you.” Spike led them back into the forest and pointed them to the river where he met Pinchy. Twilight placed Spike on her back and followed his directions, treading carefully across the leaf litter. As they neared the sounds of rolling water, Twilight found herself locked under the forest’s spell.

“I’ve got to say. This place is something else.” She turned to Spike, “There’s really something special about this place.”

“Could we keep it a secret?” Spike asked. “I don’t want anyone to come here and exploit Underworld’s resources.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Twilight nodded her agreement. This world was beautiful and should stay that way. 

“I can still keep some Pinkie Pie Sand, right?” Pinkie Pie bounced with eager childlike eyes. They shared a laugh before agreeing so long as she kept the sand secret. Twilight would have to keep her nature samples and future experiments hidden from prying eyes and Rarity would keep her Underworld gemstones as a private token. 

“Pinkie, sorry about turning down your party offer earlier,” Spike interrupted the pink pony’s little dance. “When we get back home, if you’re still offering to throw a welcome home party, I’d love to  –.”

“You’ll come?” Pinkie Pie grinned, “Yay! A party wouldn’t be any fun if you weren’t there, especially if it was for you.” This prompted another round of laughter. Twilight lead them through the trees to the hidden world, opening her mind to the miracles around her and the most impressive miracle sitting on her back. 


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Behind on the cave, one new word was written on the wall, a word that summed up Spike’s new task, “Live.” 


The End