And The Gears Grind On

And The Gears Grind On

We still don't know how it started: I'm starting to wonder if we ever will.

We don't know what they want: We don't know the day they arrived, how they came to be, who made  them; why did they make them?

We do however know what they don't want:

Us.

I have seen many terrible things, and I am starting to lose faith. Faith in my friends, faith in friendship, faith in you, Princess.

Not a day goes by without me looking behind myself, checking my surroundings. I know they're here, I know they're watching, I know they want me.

Want me gone.

I can't even distinguish between friend and foe now. My best friends haven't turned yet but it's only a matter of time before all we've built up comes crashing down.

I've had to write this personally, I can't trust anyone now, not even my own dragon.

Not even you.

I have to pray; pray that you aren't the reason why, that this letter will reach you safely without compromising the things that I hold dear. Or at least, the things I thought I did.

I've seen ponies I've lived by for years perish. I've seen them slaughtered by the hoof of “ponies” I've too lived by for years.

What are those cherished memories now? I'm just hoping that this town isn't a lie, that my friends have been replaced; were never like this to begin with. The thought of that is sickening.

Who will be the next one to be revealed? Who will be the next one to fall?

Is it me? Am I one of those twisted machines? Shall I cut myself open and see?

No, I will keep my will, keep my faith in this world, this life. For now...

I'm just worrying how long we can last. They've grown stronger, more intelligent, more difficult to detect.

Some have evaded your newest precautions now: the tests have proved inconclusive.

We've had to monitor borders like many other cities. Yet still they get through, undetected.

We're starting to get restless, call for violence. But who is doing the calling? Maybe that's what they want from us.

Please send help. I don't want to see another friend be taken away, be it that they are the killer, or the killed.

Please, stop this.

Your most faithful but faltering student

Twilight Sparkle.

***

Twilight Sparkle finished writing her letter, her horn quivering, the levitated quill shaking. Blobs of ink detached themselves from the feather and sprinkled the parchment, blotting out several words. She quickly deposited the quill on the wooden desk to halt the downpour; but her efforts were fruitless as although the ink drops stopped falling, tears soon replaced them.

They formed slowly at first, building themselves up, feeding off Twilight's unstable emotion before rolling down her cheek and hitting the parchment, smudging the ink. She rolled up the letter, preventing further damage, before realising she had no efficient way of delivering it without Spike.

Whilst Twilight was considering the delicate matter she heard the sound of padded footsteps as Spike chose that exact moment to enter the room.

Coincidence?

“Hey Twilight, are you okay? You've been writing that thing for ages,” Spike said, his voice flat.

Twilight turned around slowly, making no attempt to clean her grief-ridden face. She looked ill; there was stress etched across her visage, her eyes red, and her mane was messy and uncouth; riddled with sweat. She looked blankly in Spike's direction and shivered, a chill caressing her fur.

“Why are you here, Spike?” Twilight asked accusingly.

“I was just checking up on you. See if you were okay. See if you wanted me to send that letter now,” Spike said innocently. He looked across the room at Twilight's face, meeting her pained eyes with his. Her hostile looks made him uncomfortable, causing him to look downwards at his feet in dismay.

He knew better than to comfort her; this had been going on a while. Normally anything he said these days would spark off a fit of rage and suspicion. Surprisingly, she hadn't completely snapped again. He had never asked for this; nopony had.

He couldn't take this much longer. He was so cold.

Twilight hesitated. Spike was the most obvious and easy way in getting her message delivered. He could tamper with it though, he could send it to some pony else; vital information in the wrong hands. She already felt uneasy having him live in the same house. It had led to countless nights of no sleep; she had to be alert at all times.

“Twilight,” Spike called out, his voice echoing through the unicorn. Twilight brought herself back to reality and looked back at her dragon, straining her exhausted eyes.

“Please,” he faltered, eyes glistening with tears, “look at me.”

Spike waddled over, his flabby feet connecting with the floor being the only sound that could be heard in the dim library. He reached his friend, his Twilight Sparkle, and looked up again into her face.

“I'm me, I'm Spike!” he said, forcing a high-pitched laugh whilst waving his claws around manically. “You watched me come out of that egg, you watched me grow. I am yours, nopony else's!”

Twilight looked down, her face forming. Her dragon, her Spike.

He continued.

“I'm still a baby,” Spike said, his voice starting to crack, “imagine what it's like for me. Imagine how scared I am.”

Twilight was starting to see beyond her tinted vision, see the friend that was before her. Another tear of a different magnitude began to form in her right eye, over the lavender fur.

“You may have not known me for your whole life. But I've known you for all of mine. If I was one of them I would have done something by now.”

The tear began to grow, common knowledge prevailing over suspicion. Had she really been this cautious? This stupid?

“Please,” Spike whimpered, his eyes round and longing.

But Twilight had already made up her mind. She leant down and embraced her baby dragon, holding him dear. He returned the affection instantly, his little claws digging into her fur, clinging on to what he had left. If there was pain she didn't notice it.

“I want it to go away! I want things back the way it was!” Spike wailed, returning to his childish self. Their tears started to merge as they cried upon one another.

How could I have been so stupid? To suspect my baby dragon of all people? I have no evidence dragons are a part of this; only ponies.

“Oh Spike,” Twilight began “I'm sorry for how I treated you. I've seen my friends betrayed and have grown cautious, living in fear but never should I have suspected you for an instant. You're my little dragon! Not some silly mechanical monster!” Twilight said, attempting a laugh.

“It's okay, I'm just glad to have you back on my side,” said Spike through the tears.

“Would you mind,” Twilight began, drying her eyes, “sending this letter to the Princess?”

“It would be my pleasure,” Spike said joyously. Relieved to have his Twilight back.

Twilight levitated the piece of parchment down from the desk, her focus slightly restored, and placed it in Spike's claw. Spike took a breath before blowing his magical green fire, disintegrating the words.

She went over and locked the door tight before settling down by the fire with Spike, cuddling him closely.

As long as she had him, she would be fine. As long as she had a true friend by her side, she would not go quietly. She would protect Spike as best she could from the horrors that currently lurked in Ponyville.

No more hiding from them, no more cowering in fright and superstition. She would not let anything happen to Spike. Starting tomorrow she would fight back; she would go to border control personally to see any newcomers.

Twilight Sparkle swore she would search everywhere, interview everypony, monitor everything until she was content. She would rid Ponyville of this plague.

Twilight closed her eyes, feeling the warmest she had in weeks, before falling asleep.

The warmth of hope.