The candle that burnt half as long burnt twice as bright.

Jack was no more than a child when it came to Celestia’s age, when it came to the woman’s experiences. She couldn’t compete with the all-folk in almost any aspect.

Except heart.

And right now hers felt like it beat so hard her chest was ready to burst. She felt like she was going to be sick, but she felt like she had a purpose to be standing here holding her blade. She felt like she had a purpose as she swung her sword downward, the swing like greased lightning, clashing into the earth.

It came close. It came close; Celestia twisted, contorted her body to the side as Jack came down, surprise evident on her face at the farmer’s swing speed, but all Jack got was the rope tying Celestia’s sheath to her hip; the thing clattered to the ground, forgotten for the moment by both women.

Jack wasn’t surprised at Celestia’s dodge, but it still sprouted the seeds of frustration within her chest. There was a boiling heat inside herself, a roaring inferno ready to escape her bosom the instant she allowed it. But she held it back, keeping Will’s technique as her last resort, as she knew if she did it, she’d only have a few scant seconds within her before she was fatigued, unable to keep up with Celestia’s attacks, unable to press the advantage her weapon allowed her. If she let herself get lost in anger, then she would surely lose this fight as well.

After Jack’s swing, Celestia pressed forward, coming in low and to the side, aiming for the farmer’s exposed kidney with a backswing. Jack twisted her upper body and brought her blade over and behind her, narrowly blocking the all-folk’s swing.

Celestia juked, springing off her foot and jumping forward, grabbing Jack’s sword arm with her free hand she pressed down, holding the farmer’s sword down as she thrust her sword forward.

Jack let go of her weapon and twisted free of Celestia’s grip, pirouetting with an arm out; she struck Celestia in the cheek with one hand, in the same motion she slapped Celestia’s thrust to the side and grappled the woman, throwing her armed hand hard, shaking it like a dog’s head as you tried to free something from within its maw.

Celestia’s hand finally flinched, the weapon dropped to the ground with a clatter and she adjusted herself, pinwheeling her arms free of Jack’s grapple, then engaging in one again, this time taking a hand to the side of Jack’s face while Jack’s hand shot forward, once again taking Celestia’s throat and squeezing it like a vice, the last time working well enough that she felt compelled to attempt it again.

Celestia began gagging; she turned her head to the side, letting her draw a few weak, shallow breaths as she pawed across Jack’s face. She shot her thumb forward, jamming it squarely into Jack’s eye.

The farmer howled, pulling back from Celestia instantly and clutching at the wound. Luckily, it hadn’t ruptured, the vision from her struck eye was a dark, blurred thing, but it was still there.

Still she held back the rage that all but screamed at her as she launched forward, her fists balled into two heavy iron weights as Celestia mirrored the action, then mirrored her again as Jack threw out a haymaker, Celestia doing the same.

The blow landed hard, pain flared from Jack’s cheek as Celestia’s fist collided against her. Through her cloudy vision, she saw a trail of crimson fly through the air.

Her own blood.

Before she could recover fully, another strike hit her, then another. Celestia’s fists impacted again and again against her face, each impact snapping her head to either side. One caused her head to swim in a cloud of disorientation and she stumbled back, nearly falling as Celestia continued her strikes.

Jack came a bit more to her senses and brought her arms up, blocking what she could, before seeing an opening through her hazy vision; she took a chance and shot forward, headbutting Celestia and ceasing the blows on her face, her cheeks already swelling and her lip split from where it had cut into her teeth.

Jack stood, panting, her face a nightmarish, ruined mess of blood and fractures, but still functioning, still alive and her eyes burned with indignation, her spirit far from crushed.

If anything, judging by how she bared her teeth, she almost relished it.

Celestia stood a few feet away, wiping at a small cut of her own on her lip, looking elegant and noble even with her injuries. There came a pause, as if something within her came to a realization and she held a palm to her side.

It was faint at first, eventually there sputtered to life a flame. Though no words were exchanged, their desperate gasps for air took their words away before they could even say them, Jack knew what it meant. It served as a warning.

Celestia’s magic was coming back.

The poison Jack had concocted never was going to be as potent as magesbane, Zecora had told her of it serving more like a tranquilizer, rather than a full on stop, but Jack had hoped she would have had just a bit more time to slow Celestia down.

Jack offered no flinch, no sudden showing of surrender, so Celestia gave a weak shake of her head and held both her hands out.

There were a few whispered words, once more in the damnable tongue of the all-folk and Jack charged forward, intending to stop Celestia before she could complete the spell.

It was too little, too late.

As she stepped forward, there came a rumbling to Jack’s sides and the earth rose up, a slab on her right and left and they flipped toward her, too quick to dodge, only enough time to put her arms up and brace her body for impact.

The slabs struck into her, not only pinning her, but crushing her; she heard her ribs pop and her arms threatened to break and snap from the strain of pushing against the stone as they continued to weigh down onto her, feeling as if the very weight of the world was on her shoulders.

Celestia watched Jack weakly struggle, fight against the spell, to no avail. The all-folk held her hand out. The magic within her came to life and there came a weight to her hand that at first was an invisible object, but then was swathed in light. Her sword, discarded earlier, returned to her palm, materializing from within the light and she approached Jack, to deal the killing blow or discuss surrender, her motives never discovered due to what happened in a scant few seconds.

Jack felt her anger bubble to surface, roaring to life with the fury of a volcano. She had kept it in her for so long, had felt it eating at her throughout this fight, never sure when she should use Will’s technique. She was grateful now for her hesitation.

Her mind turned blank, empty, for a scant second, and it was like the world itself took in a long breath, before she felt her thoughts and her body become fueled, swallowed by a white-hot rage and she pulled in, then threw her arms out as hard as she could.

The stones flinched, giving her a scant few inches to move. She took it and adjusted her arms, this time letting out a loud bellow as she not only freed herself, but threw the stones off her body like a bull bucking off a rider.

Though her mind was a million miles away as she took a fist and bashed it against her own temple in her blinding, zealous anger, she knew she didn’t have minutes like this, but seconds, scant seconds to finish this before she collapsed and she charged forward, weaponless and frenzied.

Jack caught sight of Celestia, the princess not simply shocked but alarmed at not only Jack’s escape, but the feral aspect of her as she sprinted forward.

Celestia held out a hand and launched a ray of heat; it collided with Jack, but didn’t deter her, didn’t even affect her, the magic acting as the quintessential water off a duck’s back amid Jack’s low sprint and as Celestia prepared to swing Jack struck first, pouncing on Celestia, grabbing the woman’s jaw in one hand and blocking her sword arm with her other and throwing Celestia to the ground with the sweep of her legs.

She took Celestia’s weapon, pried it easily from the all-folk’s hand when mere moments ago their strength had been an even match, and brought it down, impaling it directly into her heart.

Celestia let out a cry of pain and looked down at her wound, then up at Jack.

Already the farmer had sank down, the frenzy that had overtaken her a quickly fading memory. Her shoulders slumped and she took in breaths so quickly and urgently she seemed close to hyperventilating.

Though Celestia herself breathed, no amount of air seemed to satisfy her lungs; she weakly swallowed, rising to an elbow.

“I,” she managed to whisper out, crimson already beginning to cover her chest. “I’m sorry. I let you all down somewhere.”

Though Jack seemed hardly able to even lift a hand, she still summoned what strength she had left to put her hand on top of Celestia’s, a wordless gesture, the only way she could offer comfort.

From behind them came a pair of running footsteps.

Pinkie was first, her eyes shifting between the two warriors. Her lips quivered, occasionally parting but never uttering a word, her face a confused mess of emotions.

“Jack,” Rarity quietly muttered out, the rest of her sentence never spoken. Celestia winced, the pain obvious in her eyes.

“Don’t tell Luna what happened. She’ll…” Celestia instructed, her breaths quiet wheezes as she faded.

Though Rarity had no control over the situation before her, she stepped up into a leadership role for the group, and nodded in agreement, understanding exactly what the all-folk meant.

“It was something in the tomb,” Rarity said, the lie so at-ease for her it very well could have been the truth, “Tirek ambushed you and you gave your life to stop him.”

A flicker of a smile was all Celestia could muster for an expression. “Seems a better end.”

“But it’s not gonna be the end, okay?!” Pinkie cried, kneeling beside her yet hesitant to make contact. “Y-You’re an all-folk!”

Celestia gave a weak shake of her head. “We bleed too,” she answered. With another low sigh, her vision seemed to unfocus, looking at the whole world yet nothing at all and there came one more sudden thought to her, one more thing that seemed to rise in importance over the hundreds of other things swimming in her head.

“Tell Twila. She’s perfect,” Celestia said.

Her body went limp and with one more long exhale, she shut her eyes.

Jack sat, drained so completely that there was not a single word she could make out, let alone a word to make sense of what just happened, of what she did. Rarity came beside her, looking down at the all-folk’s body.

“I’m sorry,” Rarity said, not sure who she was speaking to, just needing to say the words, perhaps.

Jack reached forward, taking the handle of Celestia’s sword. She pulled at it, but lacked the strength to free it from the body. Rarity stepped in for her and gave a tug, surprised at the resistance the weapon held. It was far less dignified than she liked, but she squatted down and lifted with her entire body, her own strength coming to life as she lifted up.

Finally, the sword came free, pulling out from the woman’s body and coated in crimson. Rarity hesitated on what to do with it until she finally decided to put it in the all-folk’s hand.

There came a coughing fit from Jack; spasms racked her body and she clutched at her head in pain. Rarity turned to look at her and froze.

Spike approached, finally awake from his unconscious state. At first he seemed only curious, but then he caught sight of what they were huddled over and he froze.

“P-Princess?” he stammered out, then looked at Jack. Seeing her ruined face, seeing the bloody sword at Celestia’s side, he could only come to one conclusion to who was responsible and his reptilian eyes widened in alarm. “What the fuck did you do?!”

“Spike!” Pinkie interjected, quickly stepping in front of him, her hands raised. Her words were quick, erratic and stammered. “It—Celestia—Jack can explain!”

Jack said nothing, her gasps for air as she struggled to recover from not only using her technique to the fullest of its ability, but from the pain of her ruined face all-but making her a mute.

“She had no choice on the matter, Spike,” Rarity said, stepping in for Jack. “You would have understood this if you had been awake.”

“You would say that,” Spike growled out. “You both are like con artists now, watching one-another’s back, even if it isn’t right.”

“That’s not true,” Rarity countered. “Listen to us. There was no other—”

“Of course there was!” he shouted back. “She was just too stupid to figure it out! All of you were! Don’t you say that to me!”

The boy’s appearance had taken a dark turn. He glowered, and he had seemed to fill out, gaining at least two inches in width and another few in height. His skin had began to take an off coloration, a vaguely sickly look compared to his normal peach.

“Rarity,” Pinkie said, watching in horror as Spike gradually transformed before her. “You might wanna get Jack out of here.”

“To where?” Rarity questioned, moving to stand in front of Jack. “Spike’s between the us and the only way out.”

“I dunno, you’re smart!” she shouted, sweat already beginning to appear across her forehead. “Think of something!”

“I’ve already thought.” Rarity eyed Spike and braced her stance. “Spike,” she said, her tone as gentle and as calming as she could make it. “Darling. I understa—”

“Do you?” he asked, his voice an entire octave lower now. “Jack’s still alive. You never liked Celestia.”

“That’s a lie!” Rarity reprimanded. “Get a hold of yourself.”

He clenched a fist, a rapidly widening fist, a rapidly hardening fist and scowled. “She’s dead. She’s dead because of Jack. Because of both of you!”

“Take a moment and stop, Spike,” Rarity pleaded. “I don’t want this. None of us do. Breath.”

He was frozen for a brief, brief moment. Her words, their history as friends seeming to paralyze him.

Pinkie took a hesitant step forward, lightly placing her hand on his fist. It easily dwarfed her, feeling rough to the touch. Cold. Scaly. “I know things seem bad now and I know you never wanted this but…” She squeezed his fist, as best she could. “We’ll work through this. Together.”

Another hesitant pause. Then his brow narrowed as his newfound height allowed him to peer past Rarity, and his focus returned to Jack and Celestia’s lifeless body, and his heart hardened.

“Move,” Spike warned Pinkie, not bothering to look at her as his teeth grew wild within his mouth, turning into ill-fitting sharp canines.

“M-Make me,” she replied. Her feet were rooted to the ground but her beating heart wanted nothing more to do than leap out of her ribcage.

“Move,” he ordered, more fiercely as he took a step forward, his shoes groaning in protest as what was inside grew too massive to contain. Finally, the seams split and out came a pair of massive feet, the pinkie toes already misshapen and fusing together with his fourth toe creating something on the verge of alien.

Diane flinched but held firm, ignoring the way she shook like a leaf. Her heart beat faster now, louder, almost ringing in her own ears. “I’m not moving anywhere! Nobody else needs to get hurt!”

His hand, now more a massive, dinner plate sized paw, reached down. She could feel his strength behind his stern push, brushing her to the side as one would a small, stubborn animal.

One more step forward, and he looked down at Rarity. Looked down being the key word. While once he was shorter than even Isabelle, now he held a good two inches on the second tallest of their group, and at the rate he was going, would soon tower over even Jack.

“Spike?” Rarity quietly asked. Hot air expelled from his nostrils as he glared down at her and she felt herself subconsciously reach down to the scabbard at her side and grasp the handle of her sword.

“Not one more step,” the soul-folk warned, keeping her position between Spike and Jack.

He ignored her, moving forward, his approach lumbering, shifting with the weight of a mountain behind every step. Though Rarity tried to ignore the slowly glowing colossus, she couldn't help but notice the tail that had ruptured his pants and now swung wildly behind him, thickening and expanding with every writhing gesture. His mouth had stretched and contorted, forming into a muzzle and was quickly getting swallowed by hard, leathery skin.

Now his shirt had ruptured, freeing his chest from its bondage. Already, violet scales covered it and they spread over his body like a fast-moving plague, swallowing his skin. His height had increased yet again, now Macintosh would be lucky to be on even footing with him.

There seemed to be something that left from his eyes. A spark of empathy. Humanity. There was no real answer. All that they knew was in an instant he went from at least speaking to a deep-throated growl, one that reminded Rarity of a beast about to strike so she instantly drew her sword out and grasped it in her hands, taking up a fencer’s pose as her free hand began to swim with the faint traces of magic.

He hunched over and landed on his legs, his size even while on all fours nearly reaching Rarity’s chest. Though if she hadn’t known it was him, he would have been unrecognizable amid the changes his body was suffering through.

With one more exhale, this one so powerful her bangs lifted a hair from her face, Spike bellowed, his transformation almost complete. Raising one of his massive paws, he swung forward, hitting into her blade and nearly knocking her off her feet despite blocking the attack. His second strike came even faster, his other claws launched forward; Rarity reacted just in time, narrowly blocking those, but buckling under the strike. Raising up a claw, he prepared to bring it down yet again on her.

Only to pause, jerking a bit in evident surprise at something. He turned, his reptilian eyes looking to spot the disturbance.

In his haunch, embedded within his thick scales was a dagger. He glanced up, looking for the cause, and freezing when he saw Pinkie.

She had picked herself off the ground and was brandishing another knife, ready to throw, glaring at Spike. “I said,” she took a step forward, more confident now, “make me.”

She kept approaching despite the fact that the beast now dwarfed her. And a beast it was, for there was no longer any trace of the kind, brave boy that she loved. The tables had turned, the monster within had consumed him and where once was rationality and empathy, there was only instinct and pure rage. Knowing that, Pinkie figured there was only one way to grab the beast’s attention. She had to make it perceive her as a threat that needed to take out before it could gets its prey safely.

If she was being true to herself, she had no idea what she would do if she managed to grab its attention. But she was a quick thinker and a spontaneous character. She’d last, at least for a while.

“Diane!” Rarity barked out, watching with alarm as the beast fell for Pinkie’s gamble, turning to face her.“What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?!” Pinkie cried, lowering her knife and changing her stance. “Get Jack out of here!”

“And leave you? Not a chance,” Rarity countered, looking towards the creature. It saw both of them slowly circling it, and it shifted its body to a more defensive position, making sure it could watch both of them.

“If you really want to stick around,” Pinkie said, eyeing Rarity briefly, “do some neat magicky stuff. I’ll go brawling.” She tightened a fist, flexing her arms. “I guess.”

Rarity focused, dispelling the retort she was about to offer, and instead concentrated on the magic within her hands. A chill from her palms caused her to grimace, and her hand grew numb at the magic that swam within her palm.

A hand came to her shoulder and her spell nearly fizzled out in surprise at the contact. She glance behind her; Jack stood, her legs trembling and nearly buckling, the strain from besting Celestia leaving her incapable of fighting at the moment.

“Tit for tat,” Rarity answered, not bothering to listen to Jack. “You had your moment with Celestia. Leave this to me.”

Though Jack normally would have protested, Rarity knew she would, the woman complied, too weak to do anything to the dragon if he targeted her, her lack of magic within her body stopping her second wind from occurring, at least for the moment. Rarity knew she either had to stall Spike until Jack could join the fray, or figure some way out that wouldn't cause any more bloodshed.

Shuffling back, Jack dropped weakly to the ground, sweat caking her face as Rarity returned to her quick preparations.

Pinkie reached back, then with as much as she could, threw another knife for the beast’s leg. If she could cripple its mobility at least a little, it’d make the fight a little easier for everyone. And if it keep its attention on her, that was a bonus.

This time it saw the knife coming and batted it away, sending it spinning off towards the entrance of the room. He growled at her, his brow narrowing further as he coiled up, subtly readying a lunge.

She put away the knives, given now they’d be little more than toothpicks. “You wanna give me a hug? Okay then…” Readying herself, she could feel something in her sparking to life. Adrenaline, maybe? But that felt familiar to her, this was something entirely different. Whatever it was, it was giving her strength, so she wouldn’t argue.

Like a viper, Spike lunged, his speed alarming for his size and he sailed briefly through the air with something bordering grace.

It was fast but Pinkie was faster, managing to sidestep out of harm’s way. The dragon charged past her and Diane could feel the sheer power he possessed without even making contact, as if his sheer strength had created ripples in the air. Impacting against the wall, he was back in commision far quicker than seemingly possible, already springing away from the wall and leaping towards Diane once more.

Immediately she turned tail and started running as fast and hard as her body could withstand. That spark within her had fully awakened now and it felt like fire within her veins, awakening her body and empowering it to push beyond her average limits. And she’d need every last bit of power if she was going to outrun the powerhouse behind her.

Landing once again on nothing, he let out a growl, stomping his feet in frustration, before sprinting at her, hellbent on making her pay for the mockery she was putting him through.

She jumped to the side, just barely dodging his attempt to tear into her flesh, and hit the ground, rolling hard from the impact. Rising to a knee Pinke froze as Spike turned to face her and the boy sucked in deep breath, lifting his head up as his chest visibly expanded outwards. From his maw erupted flames, their speed coming toward Pinkie in an instant, the girl screamed, covering her face as the burning heat enveloped her.

After a moment she paused, still alive, not engulfed in flame, and looked up towards the dragon.

A great ball of fire held itself mere inches away from Spike’s snout, the object a bubbling mass of magma and heat that swirled and danced midair.

Though almost invisible from the intense brightness the fire put out, Pinkie could see a strange sheen surrounding the fire, as if it were encased in a glass jar. The dragon looked confused, the effect not one of his own and both Pinkie and the dragon Spike had become turned their heads at the exact same time.

Rarity stood, her palms outstretched, her sword’s tip embedded into the earth as she concentrated her will into a spell, stalling the dragon as best she could. But, a fact realized more than once on their excursion, she was not Twila. Diane quickly caught on, gaining great distance between herself and the flames.

“Thanks!” she gasped, in between breaths.

Rarity attempted to bring her hands together, flinching as she did so, an invisible force resisting her gesture, her hands trembling as she continued to try and close her self-made gap. The orb standing above Spike, sealing the flames away from the arena below, trembled and cracked under the pressure Rarity seemed to be applying with her focused gestures. There came a breakthrough with her gesture and she put her hands tightly together in an audible clap.

Above, the orb shattered, spewing flame out above, where it danced across the high ceiling, dissipating before it hit the ground. Embers fluttered through the air, getting into Spike’s eyes. He snorted in irritation, rubbing his eyes with the back of his clawed hand, before turning now to face Rarity.

“That’s right, you brute,” Rarity said under her breath, her sword at the ready as it swam and danced white swaths of ice along its metal. “Try me.”

He lashed at her, using his long arms to claw at her while, simultaneously, blindly swinging his tail from side-to-side in an attempt to ward of Pinkie from engaging him.

“No! Don’t try him!” Pinkie warned, keeping her eyes focusing on that tail. Big and deadly as it was, there had to be a pattern to the swings, some opening that she could exploit.

Rarity hopped back from the creature’s grasp, then immediately shot forward, thrusting her saber against his large frame. It connected in-between his scales, puncturing his shoulder and, unlike Pinkie’s earlier blow, this made him bellow, the magic within the sword’s edge burning him with a potency of silver against the undead: he actually retreated a few precious steps away from the woman and the new threat her sword held. He watched her as she took a few slow, methodical steps to the side, neither one blinking as they schemed. Rarity’s narrow gaze focused, tailored by Jack’s instructions and guidance, Spike’s thoughts as alien as his body, measuring plans not in steps, but in leaps and bounds.

Rarity dashed forward, charging head-on towards the dragon; Spike slashed towards her head on instinct, the reaction instant, a blur of speed.

One which Rarity dropped for. She slid past the incoming attack on her ass and, after the blow sailed over her, sailed so close her bangs were brushed back from her forehead, she popped herself up, stumbling as she came back to her feet, but recovering well-enough that she managed a clumsy slash that succeed not only in puncturing through his scaly hide, but actually cut a line deep into his chest.

His scream was one of not only agony, but also one of surprise and fear, the high, whining pitch of the thing reminding Rarity it wasn’t really a monster before them, but Spike.

Her little Spikie.

Grasping the sword, she hesitated as she pulled it out and prepared her next swing, caught between her love for the boy and the necessity of stopping him. That hesitation cost her.

He sprang on her, feral intensity and hate moving his limbs with blinding speed, speed that should have been impossible for a creature of his size.

In an instant, he had grabbed Rarity with a hand, scooping her up like she were no more than a merger toy, an experimental clench of his hand made her gasp in pain as her torso was put through a vice. A second squeeze, this one putting the force of both his palms together made her scream as her body popped and involuntarily contorted under the pressure of his grip.

“Rarity!” Pinkie cried, her stomach dropping as she saw blood drip onto the ground and the unnatural shape her friend’s body had been forced into. Throwing caution to the wind, she sprinted right for the dragon and with a hop, skip and a jump, landed and hung onto his scaly back, his sheer size making it like a cliff face to scale. Reaching over his shoulder, she threw all of the power she could muster into one punch directly at his head.

The blow struck his temple, but did nothing to stall his attempt to crush Rarity; he brought the woman towards his mouth, and his teeth came down with force upon her.

Only to bounce off harmlessly.

Rarity hung halfway out of his mouth, clinging to one of his sharp canines. Surrounding her form was a translucent shell of magic, the spell she conjured the only thing that saved her from being killed. Away from her sword, she brought her fist forward instead, magic sparking to life within it, the spell stretching and forming into a punching dagger, and thrusted it into Spike’s gum line.

The dragon bellowed, the force of the air escaping his mouth blowing Rarity into a free-fall until she hit the ground with an ungraceful thud. She shifted, the wind knocked out of her, blatantly dazed, but alive, and rolled over onto her back, just as Spike rose a massive foot and brought it downward. Sucking in a breath, Rarity willed her magic to life once more and vanished with and audible pop, only to reappear a few feet away, coughing and rising weakly to a knee, her earlier strength fading.

The dragon reached upward, fumbling blindly for Pinkie as she clung to life tightly on its back. She reacted quickly, pushing off Spike with her feet and letting go, flipping through the air and tumbling to the ground as she landed. Performing a roll, she narrowly avoided a swing of the dragon’s tail over her, then jumped up to her feet as soon as she could, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

Briefly distracted from Rarity’s wounded form, he snapped around, his massive claws at the ready. He shot a hand forward, reaching to grasp her.

Breathing heavily, Diane jumped to the side but it was anything but. She stumbled, her clothes sticking to her now from the sweat, and was swiftly swept up by Spike.

Bringing her up to his eyes, he stared at her, growling as she squirmed within his grasp.

“S-Stop!” she pleaded, her voice becoming raspy and tears welling up in her eyes.

If he could understand her at this point, he paid no mind to her begging and instead took a deep breath of her scent. The machinations in his mind operated on another level compared to theirs, but there came a glimmer of recognition in his eyes, a faint spark that let him know that she was something important. Something that was his.

Something that he owned.

He sniffed her again and this time there came a longer spark. A brief urge, of wanting lit his eyes and his growl took on a slightly more quiet form as he cradled the woman in his palm, his grip no longer crushing her.

Her body instantly relaxed, like a spring. She rubbed her throat but was unable to say anything, or even make a sound. Even with her comfier confines, she was more trapped than ever, trapped into staring at those reptilian eyes.

Those eyes that held no love within them, only an aching want.

Pinkie knew what the dragon wanted and she froze, her eyes widening in panic and she took to hyperventilating, unable to calm herself or think of some way to escape, some way to avoid what was coming.

Rarity finally managed to get to her feet, her fear for Diane bringing her out of her stupor. There came movement from her side and she glanced over, nearly crying in relief.

Jack stood once more, her sword at her shoulder and a weary resignation in her every breath, a paragon of stoicism as she coolly regarded what Spike had become.

Will wouldn’t call it stoicism, neither would Jack at this point. Rather, a word, a philosophy rang true now more than ever.

Ronnel.

Glancing over at Rarity, the two seemed to silently share a few words to one-another, though this time was less small, mute voices of concern, and more along the lines of a hastily drawn battle plan, their newly-formed partnership when it came to dealing with monsters syncing them well with their thoughts.

Their wordless conversation over, a few glances and a small nod the only things needed said, Jack sprinted forward, her speed weakened after fighting Celestia, but still at least healthy enough to move.

While Jack sprinted forward, loud enough to draw the attention of not only the dragon but Diane as well, Rarity focused her magic, fueling it with everything she had left within her safe limit, and felt energy collect and meld into her fingertips, a chill coming to her hand despite her heavy gloves. The energy swirled and solidified, forming a shaft made of crystal-clear ice that seemed to exhale rolling condensation from the cold. One more deep pull from her magic essence, the attempt so within herself she winced from a twinge of pain deep in the caverns of her heart, and the shaft extended, widening, and lengthening until the tip reached well past her arm’s length, where it quickly formed into a razor-sharp spearhead. The instant Spike’s attention fully turned over to Jack, Rarity pulled her arm back, looking briefly like an olympian with the majesty and grace she held herself with despite her injuries, and threw it forward with every ounce of strength she held.

It sailed through the air, over Jack and up to Spike’s chest, where it swung to the right and impaled itself into the dragon’s wrist, not only burying through his scaly skin, but outright penetrating it, rupturing two small holes on either side of the tough hide that adorned his wrist.

He howled, forgetting Diane briefly, reflexively dropping her as he went to grasp his bleeding wrist. She dropped to the hard ground, capable of only limply rolling over onto her front.

Jack came closer, trying to draw the beast’s attention away from Pinkie, trying her best to allow the woman at least a chance at escape.

A dragon wasn’t something she wanted to fight, not today, not ever. The creatures were nightmarish things, their speed and strength rarely matched by anything else in the land. Even Will and Luna were wary of the beasts and warned their subordinates of engaging them.

If she had some time to prepare, read over her few notes on them, perhaps create an oil for her sword, she might not feel as frightened as she was deep down. Her armor couldn’t withstand a dragon’s teeth or claws, so evasion was the key. But her fatigue from fighting Celestia had left her lethargic, she knew she couldn’t keep up the pace against Spike for long. It was an exercise in buying time, nothing more. A sentiment that Rarity had shared earlier.

The beast bellowed once more as Jack approached and tensed up, his draconic muscles coiling like springs underneath his scales. He was a bit more cautious with his breath, an instinct warning him that Rarity might be faking fatigue, that she could be preparing a counterspell to it once more, so instead he engaged Jack physically, giving a testing swing of his claws towards her.

With practiced ease, she brought the flat of her sword up, twisting her torso to parry his claws. His weight wasn’t behind the swing, so she managed to deflect the blow handily, only stumbling a bit from the impact. Curious at his new plaything, he gave a few more cautious pokes and swips her direction, never truly throwing his weight at her, but still poised to do just that if she reacted violently.

She played his game for a few moments, parrying and redirecting his blows with every swing he threw at her, unaware of a fast-approaching danger. His tail had raised over his body, holding a pose not unlike a scorpion. It trembled and writhed, gauging her, judging her movements and then, when she had stumbled from another swing of his claws, he struck, twisting his torso and bringing his tail forward from the side.

Jack only had her attention drawn to it by the whistling of air as it cut through the air in a heavy arc. She froze, her natural instincts, worn from her encounter with Celestia, locked up on her, pushing her towards no action, save for inaction as the tail continued forward in its deadly arc.

A blur of pink tackled her from the side mere breaths before the tail impacted against her body. Jack was knocked to the ground and the tail careened across her vision, a blur of speed as it finished its sweep.

With a meaty thud, the tail impacted against Pinkie’s aim as she sailed through the air. The force knocked her to the ground and she cried out in pain, clutching her arm and curling up, fighting against the urge to outright sob from the sheer pain of it all.

The dragon paused, surprised at Diane. Surprised that he hurt her. Growling, Spike instantly returned his focus to Jack, callously ignoring Pinkie’s injury, and lunged at the woman.

Jack rose to her feet and charged forward, into the creature’s massive frame. She dodged his arm and stepped to the side as he landed, narrowly avoiding his massive frame as it impacted against the ground. Bringing her sword forward, she brought it down to his exposed side, his scales slowing down the impact from the blow, but not enough to stop her swing from drawing a viscous black liquid from seeping out.

He howled and grabbed her reactively; wasting no time after his lesson with Rarity, he threw her, propelled her across the room and her back connected with a stalagmite, the force of the impact nearly bending her in half, her hands almost comically touching her ankles.

Jack fell down to the ground in an undignified lump, obviously unconscious or worse from the crash, her body a limp ragdoll of splayed limbs and a tilted head.

Faced with a choice between aiding Diane or checking on Jack, Rarity sprinted over to Jack without hesitation, silently begging Pinkie for forgiveness as she took stock of Jack’s crumpled body and came to the earth-folk’s side, panic-stricken and unsure where to even begin on treating Jack.

The dragon stepped past Pinkie, her whimpering doing nothing to his stride and he bellowed, a loud, echoing thing that reverberated throughout the room. Pleased, its reptilian eyes looking over the two surviving women, his thoughts turned to their flesh, of their contortions and writhing underneath him. But those thoughts and lustings faded the instant he spotted something.

Sitting loftily atop a set of stairs was a man, frozen within a large crystal. In his hand was a grail. Not any grail, rather it was a beautiful, exquisite thing that carried itself with mystique. But, though his race’s natural greed commanded him to take it at this point, he was mesmerized by it less because of its obvious monetary value, but because he knew, he could sense with not only its scent but from a certain thrum of magic that beat within his eardrums. The object was not a mere host to magic, rather, magic ebbed and flowed from it as if it were an eternal source of power.

A reward suitable for a creature such as himself. A beast that sat atop the food chain as the king of kings needed something like that within his hoarding.

Offering something resembling a sneer, he took another footstep towards the stairway, only to be met by a gentle hand resting at one of his legs.

He prepared to stomp out the presence below him, but as he adjusted his head to get a clear view of the interloper, he froze, his draconian indifference of the insignificant creatures below him blown completely away for a scant few seconds.

Celestia stood below the great creature, her injuries grievous, life-threatening, yet she somehow functioned and breathed. She pushed her entire body against the dragon’s leg in a wordless attempt to comfort it.

The dragon felt a foreign thought arrive, one that its human aspect—a thing almost forgotten within a shadowy corner of its mind—recognized as warmth. Not a warmth as he felt when observing Diane or Rarity, the warmth of his bestial aspect, rather, a warmth, an affection that a family held. The all-folk holding him was akin to a mother cradling a hurting child and that single act of kindness pulled its earlier want for the grail to the side.

Its powerful shoulders slumped, accepting her comfort, relief and that feeling of acceptance soothing its heart more than any object ever could.

The creature let out a snort of contentment as it lowered its head, turning to wrap it behind the all-folk, returning her expression of love with one of its own.

Within it came a small spark, a flicker of humanity burning alone within a strange black world. Thanks to her, the small spark was joined by others, and the boy sluggishly stirred awake within his draconian shell.

He visibly shrank, losing first inches, then feet, his body popping and snapping as it compacted and regained a slightly more humanoid figure until he stood no more than a few feet higher than the princess. His snout retreated into his face, becoming a mere pointed nostril, and his dagger-sharp pointed teeth smoothed, turning a garish mouth into something boyish.

His tail retreated next, crawling up from the earth and sinking into the base of his spine. His hair sprouted like a weed upon his head, a head that had lost its scales and was quickly losing its rough, leathery texture, becoming peach-like in complexion once again. It spread throughout his body, his scales vanishing and skin overtaking instead as he shrank once more and narrowed, becoming something just shy of lean.

Last came his eyes, the most subtle yet perhaps the most important change to happen. Their hard edge faded until there was a small, almost unnoticeable shine to their green reptilian expression, a shine of innocence, of intelligence.

Of humanity.

Though he had been awake the whole transformation, it was only now that he seemed awake and he shifted within Celestia’s gentle, tender grasp.

“You’re alive,” Spike said, amazed even as he uttered the words.

“Somehow,” she replied, her voice a quiet rasp as she took a cautious breath, a faint flash in her eyes telling him that magic was being used within her.

“The bleeding’s stopped internally. My heart’s uninjured despite everything. External bleeding’s slowed. A few fractures at my wrist, cheek and and ribs,” Celestia reported, her magic vanishing as soon as she finished her self-examination.

Spike asked the million bit question.

“How?”

“I have an idea,” Celestia replied. She glanced over him and broke away from their embrace. “But first, the others.”

That brought Spike back to the present; his eyes widened and he snapped around, sprinting towards the woman still writhing on the ground.

“Oh God, Diane,” he stammered out, putting a hand to his brow as his stomach swam with nausea as realization dawned on him what had happened—what he had done.

She was there, right where he left her. She was staring up at the ceiling but at nothing in particular, her eyes unfocused. All over her exposed skin was dirt, bruises and cuts. The blood from some was dry, others fresh.

“Are you ok?” Spike questioned, unsure what to say, what to do, how to feel—everything felt wrong in a way he’d never be able to explain.

Pinkie blinked, frowned, then blinked harder. She rolled her head to the side and stared hard at Spike for a few long seconds. Then she finally smiled, however tired it was. “Y-You came back,” she said, voice weak and raspy.

“Yeah,” he pushed aside everything that he felt needed said and instead focused on the more important things. “Can you stand? Is anything broken?”

She moved her arm over her chest. Or rather, flopped it. With her other arm, she reached up to gently cup Spike’s cheek. He could feel her hand, cold and shaking, against his cheek. “You came back…” she repeated.

“Oh God,” he muttered out once more, grabbing her and holding her tightly against him. “Oh God, Diane. I’m sorry.”

She smiled, feeling his warmth seep into her body. “It wasn’t your fault. Not really.” She coughed harshly, before adding, “S-Silly billy.”

Tears brimmed in his eyes and he held back a sob. “It was all my fault. I did this. I did this to you.”

Pinkie slowly moved her fingers across to Spike’s lips, pressing them gently. “Shuuuush. You never wanted this to happen, right?”

He shook his head. “None of this.”

Even if her smile was tired, it was her eyes that completed the picture of serenity across her face. They almost shone in the darkness, like sapphires. “Then that’s all that matters.”

Unable to really think of anything else to say, he cradled her head and nodded. “Thank you.”

“What for...?” she replied, closing her eyes and resting her head against his palms.

“Being you, I guess.” He gingerly picked her up, only stumbling slightly against her weight and moved towards the other elephant in the room.

“Loving you is like breathing. Or eating cake.” She inclined her head towards his chest. “Just… one thing. It’s important.”

They came towards Jack, who, though obviously dazed and pained, had rose to her feet with the help of Rarity. With a hand glowing with magic, Rarity brought it to Jack’s face and pressed a palm into her cheek. The woman’s magic seemed to seep into Jack’s skin and, though nothing obvious happened physically to the earth-folk, the way she seemed to loosen up, how her jaw relaxed and how her eyes seemed to focus a bit more on their surroundings suggested she had done something to suppress the woman’s pain, perhaps not as much as an actual painkiller would, but the effect was instantaneous and let her keep on her feet.

Celestia spoke first.

“Are you alright?” the all-folk questioned.

“Beat ta hell,” Jack said, her stance slouched over and an arm thrown over Rarity’s shoulder for balance. “But alive.”

Rarity gave an unsure look to Celestia. “As you are.”

Celestia slowly nodded. “As I am.”

There was a silence as the group shared a few looks between one-another, much to say, but actually saying it seemed an impossible task. Finally, Jack, never one to try and avoid social mistakes, took initiative.

“What happens now? Are ya gonna try fer the grail still?”

“Are you so against me having it that you would try and stop me again?” Celestia asked.

Jack squared her eyes to the princess. She hesitated for only a moment before there came a small narrowing of her brow.

“Yes,” she finally answered. The word without heat, no hatred oozing from it, no warning, but a simple reply, the answer to a math question. Cause and effect.

Celestia let out a derisive exhale. “Would you consider not using the seal the next time you try?”

“Seal?” Rarity and Spike repeated, nearly in unison.

“There’s a Norfolk seal around the entire room. It’s the only thing that makes sense. Otherwise what I lived through would have been impossible. Likewise, it’s part of the reason why Spike wasn’t able to end your lives.”

Jack let out a small breath of laughter, the action making her wince in pain. “Never was the best at playin’ tricks.”

Rarity looked at Jack, first surprised, then blatantly angry. She shot her hand forward, slapping Jack hard on the shoulder in indignation.

“You… you stupid fool!” Rarity snapped. “All this time and you had a suppression field up?! Why did you not tell me?”

Jack looked plainly at the woman, too hurt physically to start a fight with her.

“What if I didn’t work?”she quietly asked, gauging Rarity. “What then? Ain’t like high-end magic gets used often in the seals. I wasn’t sure it’d stop Celestia’s spells. Didn’t want ta tell ya in case somethin’ happened.”

“Don’t ever lie to me like that again,” Rarity warned, pointing a stern finger towards Jack’s face.

She shook her head in disagreement. “I didn’t lie. Lyin’ woulda been tellin’ ya everythin’ would be ok when it wasn’t. Jus’ didn’t give ya the whole story. There’s a difference.”

Rarity gave a dismissive roll of her eyes. “Whatever you may call it, do not do it again or so help me Jack Apple, I’ll...” She let the words drop, unsure how to finish. Jack gave a weak bob of her head regardless.

“Never again.”

Spike finally approached, stepping forward from the edge of the conversation. Looking towards the ground, he considered setting Pinkie down to give his muscles a rest, but pressed on as best he could.

“Are you both ok?” he questioned, looking at the two.

“Fine,” Jack said. “Hurt like a bitch, but that ain’t never stopped me before.”

“I got off the easiest. I’m just a bit flustered from the whole ordeal.” Rarity nodded in confirmation.

“Everythin’ alright… upstairs?” Jack asked, looking at the boy.

“I think so. I-I mean. I just saw Celestia down on the ground there and I lost it.”

“Probably how I’d feel if Rarity was in the same place,” Jack agreed. “Ya ain’t got nothin’ ta apologize fer.”

“There’s that,” Spike replied. “But there was also something else. I knew if Celestia was beaten, then we’d leave here without the grail.” He looked down to his bare feet and paused, realizing he was nude. He covered his member with a hand, but at the moment was too phased by what he had almost done to offer any real reaction. Instead, he continued to talk, swallowing.

“I needed it. I knew Celestia, if she had it, she’d share, one way or another. I needed it to not be a burden. To help everyone out. You guys. Diane’s family. Twila. They’re all counting on me, and all that’s happening is I’m just watching from the sidelines as they get better and better and farther out of my reach and I needed some way to catch up. Some way I could make sure that I’d be strong enough when I needed to help out. That’s why…” Tears brimmed at his eyes and he swore, wiping furiously at his eyes with his free hand. “I don’t know how I’ll ever make it up to you. I nearly got you all killed.”

“And Jack and myself nearly killed one-another,” Celestia said. “You were not the only one that made mistakes today.”

“It was that stupid vision. I hadn’t thought about this thing much until I had it.”

“Vision?” Celestia repeated.

“In the other room.”

Jack nodded, a hair stronger than before. “Yeah. I had one too. I saw all y’all were still conked out when I woke up from mine an’ ran in here ta get that sparrin’ seal up an’ oil up my sword.”

“What were your visions about?” Rarity questioned the two, a slow dawning coming to her that they may have been played like fiddles.

“That the grail would let me keep up with everyone, I guess was the short version of it,” Spike said with a shrug.

“That I couldn’t stand up ta Celestia if she really wanted the grail.” Jack spared a glance to the princess. “Guess that was kinda true. Couldn’t have done nothin’ if ya had jus’ avoided the fight.”

“You sell yourself short,” the all-folk rejected. “Considering what you’ve been able to accomplish in the past, I have no doubt in my mind you would have figured something out. I held back far less than you think during our match.” She put a hand to her chin in thought. “But, you speaking of visions does bring up a point. In mine, Tirek said I wouldn’t be willing to make the sacrifices needed to claim the grail.”

“Was he right on that front?” Rarity asked.

Celestia grew rigid, she crossed her arms below her breasts and took a long, measured moment to consider it.

“I said before… if we came back empty handed, then the lives of everyone that perished would be in vain.” Her lips pursed and she frowned. “But… would we be necessarily empty handed? We learned the grail is more of a malevolent force than we first assumed. That it serves as a tool of separation and divide, rather than the unifier I had hoped for.”

Jack nodded. “An’ that’s all it is, princess. Somethin’ that would divide the country more than someone even as good as you could repair.”

Celestia stared at the grail and the entombed man holding it, weighing her options. It seemed to pull her in, calling her to take her place as its rightful heir. Promising secrets, truths, revelations into the world. Nearly falling into temptation, Celestia jerked her gaze away, focusing on her comrades.

“Unless we’re in dire need of medical aid, I suggest we tend to our wounds outside. The sooner we leave this dismal place, the better.”

Jack let out an audible exhale, her relief at Celestia’s order evident. Though her body hurt and still slowly bled lines of crimson and her nose remained a ruined, broken mess, she still nearly had to stop herself from grinning in joy.

Spike eyed the grail, seeming to contemplate an idea, debating on making it vocal, before the gentle hand of Celestia rested at his shoulder, a wordless encouragement to let that sleeping dog lie.

He hesitated, then finally swallowed, turning towards the entrance of the large room.

Diane quickly latched onto his arm, standing by him even as she cradled her off-hand to her chest, a break or fracture obvious by the way she favored it. Celestia followed after them, limping, her breaths shallow, but still managing to carry herself with honor and grace after her decision to leave.

Rarity threw Jack’s arm over her shoulder and the two walked, following after the group.

As they entered the mouth of the tunnel once more, Jack was assaulted by a great light.

When her vision cleared, she stood in an identical place, in an identical posture, with an identical woman holding her arm. But her instinct told her that she once again was stuck within an illusion. This point was proven further when Rarity stopped as Jack did, and turned her head to face the earth-folk.

At Rarity’s throat was a gash, a wound from when Jack was within an illusion and she ran herself though Jack’s sword.

“Ended up better than ya thought it would,” Jack addressed, skipping the formalities. “Well, save fer you at least. You got hosed.” She smirked. “Yer that Tirek guy, ain’t ya?”

“Astute,” Not-Rarity remarked dryly. “Wise beyond your years.”

“Wise enough ta have my cake an’ eat it here,” Jack answered. “We’re leavin’ an’ there ain’t a damn thing you can do ‘bout it.”

“Are you so sure about that?” The odd creation tilted its head up quizzically. “Because I would not underestimate me.”

At that Jack finally laughed. A weak, pained laugh that hurt her face even within the illusion.

“If ya could do somethin’ like that, ya would have already. My guess is that Galahad fella got ya in one hell of a good trap in that crystal. All ya can do now is whisper from the shadows, whisper, even when ya wanna scream.” Her gaze was dispassionate, holding no empathy for the creature. “An’ that’s how we’ll keep ya. Hidden. Weak. Alone. Nobody’s comin’ ta help ya.”

“Others will,” the thing wearing Rarity’s skin said, a cold smile on her face. “Those swayed by power will arrive. Perhaps not today or tomorrow. But they will someday. What Galahad did will to stop me from bringing them to me will faid with time. And your children will pay the price. I’ll hunt them until my dying breath, Jack Apple.”

Jack flinched, drawing a hate-fueled chuckle from Not-Rarity.

“You’ll come to regret your decision. I guarantee it. Sombra will not leave me here.”

Though she normally had a good bullshit detector, she couldn’t tell if the creature was gloating, honest in its belief that Sombra would return to whisk him away in some sort of dark rapture, or if it was the last, desperate thrashings of a child in denial, rejecting the thought that they lost a game to another. The only thing Jack knew was that she wanted out and wanted out now from where she was.

Sucking in a breath, she brought a pair of fingers to the bridge of her nose and gripped it then, her eyes already watering from messing with it, twisted it, setting it back into place.

Instantly she left her vision and was once more in Rarity’s grip, the tailor looking to Jack with obvious alarm. Blood once more poured from Jack’s nostrils, splotching her hand in crimson.

“I could have set that when we were outside,” Rarity said.

“It’s fine,” Jack dismissed, the throbbing pain she felt welcoming in comparison to the illusion she was under, no matter how brief it had been.

They left the cave, the air still holding a chill, promising a winter that was just on the cusp of being delivered to them, and the group collectively turned to face the mouth of the cave.

Saying nothing, Rarity stepped forward and lifted up her hands, They became encased with magic and she strained, struggled against a force as sweat caked her body.

Though still unseen to Jack what Rarity was doing, it dawned on Celestia and she joined Rarity, raising her palms upwards in reverence.

At first there came only a few slow rolling pebbles that shifted and fell down the peak of the hill, enveloped in Rarity’s blue magical aura, then more took flight, tumbling down the hill and landing on the earth surrounding them. Soon, Celestia’s magic roared to life, empowering Rarity’s magic. They worked as part of a synchronized team, Celestia mirroring Rarity’s rise of her palm and lowering of the knees, their gesturing a crashing ocean upon a beach.

The whole hillside seemed to shake and there came an obvious split within the rock and stone. It felt as if the whole earth trembled under Jack’s feet as the hill collapsed, burying the cave’s entrance deep within its ruined bowels.

Satisfied with their work, Rarity and Celestia both turned away from the hill, joining up with the others, and pressed on, leaving the place as they found it: a tomb for a saint and a sinner.