The light of teleportation faded and Twilight found herself in her bedroom at home – her real home, the library in Ponyville. It felt so much colder after what had happened there; less like home and more like a memorial. She couldn’t help but feel her heart seize whenever she looked at the door, where she’d gotten her last glimpse of Spike running away, or the jar where she’d kept the shards of his fire ruby by her bed.

“My dear friend Twilight, what brings you back? I thought you had a country to get on track,” a deep but feminine voice asked behind her.

Twilight almost jumped in her skin and wheeled around to see Zecora behind her, balancing her head on her pole in a meditative stance, her eyes closed.

“Sorry, Zecora,” Twilight chuckled nervously, folding her defensively flared wings. “I didn’t know you were there.” She blinked and looked around. “Where’s all the books and debris…?

“Before I started meditating, I cleaned your home up today. I thought it was the least I could do for letting me stay,” the middle-aged zebra responded with an upside-down smile.

Twilight looked back at the zebra and smiled meekly. “You didn’t have to. Letting you stay here is only the right thing to do after, well… Spike burned your house down.”

“Home is a state of mind, not a roof over my head,” said the stoic. “Still, I wish I could’ve gotten my masks before I fled. Though to their fates my heart is numb, they did remind me of where I come from.”

“Sorry,” Twilight mumbled, eyes downcast. “I’ll reimburse you personally if I have to; you deserve your own place. Maybe now that the town likes you more, you could build a house closer to Ponyville.”

“Though I appreciate your great charity, perhaps you should focus on Spike and Rarity,” Zecora suggested, opening one eye. “Both have many wounds matted with salt; besides, the loss of my house was not your fault.”

“But it was!” Twilight blurted out, pacing back and forth in front of the medicine mare. “Spike was my responsibility, and I completely messed it up! Hundreds dead, dozens destitute, all because I stupidly thought Spike could handle his failing relationship ending. But oh no, of course not! I thought he was better than that, more controlled than that!”

“That he was more like you, or so you thought you knew?” Zecora finished, opening her other eye.

Twilight stopped mid-stride and put her hooves down, her head hung low. “Yeah,” she muttered. “I thought he was like me.” She shook her head and started pacing again, all life and fury gone from her canter. “I should’ve known better. I really should’ve. Spike’s had the biggest crush on her since we moved here, and his relationship is the only thing he could ever really ‘own’… and now to him it looks like we took it away.” She snarled, her eyes softly glowing. “When Celestia asked if that was the best thing to do, I should’ve said no! I should’ve known better! I’m a stupid, arrogant, failure of a-”

Her ranting came to an abrupt halt when she let out a yelp from Zecora’s bamboo stick smacking her over the head. “What was that f-” She bit her tongue; her bedroom was wrecked anew, books and sheets of parchment scattered about like a hurricane had passed through. Zecora was looking mutely at her, hooves on the ground and staff by her side. “I lost control again… didn’t I?”

Zecora just nodded, a pitying look in her eye.

Twilight slumped to the floor, shaking her head. “I’m sorry; I’m so sorry. Every single time I get over emotional, my magic completely spirals out of control. I’m afraid it’s going to hurt someone someday. I just wasn’t prepared to handle this much power. Arcane or political, I guess…”

Zecora trotted in front of her and nudged their noses together. “Guilt is the deadliest poison for the spirit, but the question remains: what will you do about it?”

Twilight looked into the zebra’s cyan eyes long and hard before letting out a sigh. “I don’t know yet… I don’t know how to fix this. I feel like I don’t even know what I’m fixing.”

Zecora huffed and trotted out of Twilight’s sight. “It seems you’ve forgotten the lessons I gave many years ago, in that Everfree enclave. What you need is more than control; you need to learn harmony, in your mind and in the soul.”

“What good are magic lessons going to do? Magic isn’t going to solve this!” Twilight asked, looking over her shoulder to see Zecora grab her staff.

“Twilight, this is not for your powers; this is for what you’ve needed for hours.” She tossed the staff to Twilight who caught it in her magic glow. “What you need is true clarity, to become more aware, of those by your side and what they’re doing there.”

“What are you implying?” Twilight asked coldly, looking between the staff and its owner.

“If you need to ask, you cannot see, hence why you need more clarity. Twilight, I’ve known you for many a year, and I’ve come to know what it is you fear,” Zecora explained, not backing down an inch. “Fear of failure holds you down and makes you blind, but not of failing those you’re responsible for or have maligned. By the time that you and I are done, once more your heart will clearly see the sun.”

Twilight’s ears flattened against her head, her eyes lowering and only vaguely shifting between the staff and Zecora. Finally she managed to ask, “What do I have to do?”

The forest was still deathly quiet. The scent of burnt flesh still hanged heavily in the air and stung his nostrils. Smoke still darkened the sky.

Spike was able to put all that out of his mind ever so briefly because for the first time since the waking nightmare started, he had water.

The young dragon was slumped over the edge of a river, greedily drinking up all he could if only just to feel the cold on his parched lips and tongue. An entire lifetime of reading books and an advanced homeschooled education was shrieking at him all the various infections and diseases he could catch from unpurified, wild water, especially deep in the Everfree Forest. The sheer thirst he’d gotten wandering through the smoke-filled forest without any water to help his burning throat tied that education up and tossed it into the river with cement horseshoes.

After another long slurp of water, he finally flopped backwards onto his rump with a satisfied belch. He panted, his tongue lolling out with a shadow of a smile on his cracked lips. “Sweet Celestia, that feels good,” he mumbled, closing his eyes for a moment and just basking in the darkened sun.

“I’m not interrupting anything lurid, am I?”

“Holy-” Spike almost jumped out of his skin and right into the river. He turned around and flopped on his front to see Discord lounging on the branch of the tree behind him. “How did- no you are not!” he fumed, his cheeks turning red.

“Good, because I really don’t need to see that,” Discord said with mock disgust and a teasing grin. “How goes things?”

Spike huffed and sat down again, facing away from the serpent. “Still have some gems left,” he muttered, leaning back with his arms propping him up. “Arm isn’t infected yet; I was about to clean it to keep it that way.”

“So, not dying; pretty good, considering the circumstances,” Discord said flippantly. “Doubt you’re going to like the news I’m bringing, though.”

Spike’s heart skipped a beat. “Is Rarity okay?”

“Stable,” Discord answered. “Looks like she’ll wake up any day now. And, not that you care, but Fluttershy still refuses to speak to anyone, and the recently made homeless Zecora is staying at your house.”

Spike flinched, his shoulders moving as if he was about to curl up. “That’s not fair,” he mumbled.

“Life is never ‘fair’ when it’s not going one’s way,” Discord deadpanned. “Certainly wasn’t fair to them when they were made to suffer over this.”

“I didn’t mean it; I didn’t mean to hurt them,” Spike said, voice quavering and dry eyes mustering up tears.

“Hardly matters.” Discord suddenly appeared in front of the young dragon, sprawled across a floating, inflatable recliner that somehow didn’t get swept away in the current. “Under Equestrian law, right now you are a wanted criminal. First-degree arson and accidental slaughter charges; nasty stuff. And the way the public and the press are baying for your blood, there isn’t a lawyer in the country that would take your case if you were ever caught.”

Spike leaned forward, folding his arms in his lap and looking down at his own claws. “So… I really can’t go back now?”

“Not unless you want to go to jail for a long time,” Discord answered. “The way things are, a royal pardon isn’t likely; it would just get vetoed, probably near-unanimously. Really, only Mayor Mare of Ponyville is sticking her neck out for you, and she doesn’t have much clout. Them’s the breaks when the monarchs give away their right to complete and total authority in favor of limited democracy.”

“I know how the courts work,” Spike growled half-heartedly. “I know how they worked before I even moved to Ponyville.”

“Then you should know that the answer is yes; you can’t go back,” Discord sighed. “At least, not without some major illusion magic to hide yourself; magic that I could provide.”

Spike stared long and hard, flexing his claws. Always sharp; never blunt. Never hooves; made to rend and tear and shred.

“Not yet,” Spike finally muttered. “I won’t risk it until Rarity’s awake… not much point otherwise. I can’t bring Zecora’s house back, or Fluttershy’s friends.”

“Probably for the best,” Discord agreed. “Though, before I go, a bit of good news. Celestia has officially announced that nobody is to go after you, legally sanctioned bounty hunters included. The bad news is that even if the government won’t offer the normal payment for anyone who brings you in, the public would probably laud him or her as a hero. Long story short, watch your back; some wannabe dragon slayers may be headed your way.”

Spike nodded, looking up to Discord again. “I’ll keep an eye out. Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me; I’m sort of under royal orders right now,” Discord brushed off. “Though between you and me I’d be doing this anyway, but tell anyone that I’m capable of being truly nice and the xenophobic public will be the least of your worries.”

Spike chuckled darkly. “Not like there’s anyone to tell.”

Discord smirked. “Good boy. Ta ta!” With a snap of his fingers, the draconequus was gone.

Alone again save for the sound of the rushing river, Spike looked at his claws one more time. He flexed them into fists and sighed before kneeling at the edge of the river and tearing off the most recent dressings for his wounds. He let the bloodstained leaves and vines float away.

The wound was inflamed, almost swollen beneath his scales, and emitted a noxious smell that made him want to gag. He hissed softly through gritted teeth as he slipped it beneath the cold waters, watching the darkened blood and pus drift away downriver as he tried to wash it off. Next Chapter: Dearest Hope Estimated time remaining: 9 Minutes