A Hall of Mirrors

Twilight woke up to flipping pages and scurrying feet. Twilight gave out a small yawn, and trotted downstairs. "Spike, what's going on? It's *yawn* only 7 in the-" She stopped mid-stride. She almost pinched herself to make sure she wasn't dreaming. In front of her was a somewhat large purple dragon with green spines and small teeth standing amidst a small pile of ashes, history books piled in a nearby corner. The green eyes, the deep purple scales, it was all there. And wings. there was a single set of large, leathery, demon-like wings attached to this once lovable creature.

Spike hadn't been able to sleep that night. Everything he had read was still rumbling around in his head. After about 2 hours of lying in bed and trying to sleep, he gave up trying and grabbed the Encyclopedia Draconus. He turned to page 250, the page about Dragonfires. 'Dragonfires are considered to be the souls of dragons. They are generally seen as the catalyst for the creation of Breath Sacs and Draconic Magic. Although the Dragonfire is not a physical organ of the dragon, it is a reasonable explanation for why dragons are inherently able to produce magic. Note that much of this next portion is based on theories and has been deemed unprovable.' Spike didn't care, he still wanted to know what these things were.

'Although it is often said that Dragonfires produce magic, the more likely explanation is that Dragonfires act as magic conductors, absorbing magic and formatting it to be usable by dragons. This explains why raw Maegia is not instantly absorbed by dragons upon contact. Dragons that are born without Dragonfires may possess Breath Sacs, but they will never mature into fully functioning organs; often these 'Maldrics', as they are known, also lack wings or other draconic features. Because of this, many are executed... be-because they a-are not worth...'.

Spike shut the book. He felt the tears streaming down his face. No wings, very little fire... It explained all of it. Spike felt disgusted, outraged with himself. His thoughts conflicted, tearing his psyche apart. How can I be worthless?

But it says right here-

The hay with what it says! You're still a dragon, aren't you?

The fact of the matter was that Spike didn't even know anymore. His mind was a jumbled mess of words, diagrams and evidence.  He couldn't take it anymore. After he had run off to migrate with the dragons and came back, the idea of not actually being a dragon had been a sensitive subject.

Through the tears that covered his eyes, he saw that the page he had closed suddenly had a small bookmark stuck in it. He opened to it, and found a note that hadn't been there before; "If you want to live in reality, follow the instructions below- Smoke".

It was outrageous. How could Smoke have stuck a bookmark in there and have Spike not notice? Unless... Spike remembered that Twilight had talked about some kinds of magic that could enchant objects to give them personalities and ideas. But the spells were so complex that Twilight thought that even the Princesses might have trouble pulling them off; the idea of a young dragon doing so was impossible. Then Spike realized that he had thought that the idea of him not being a dragon was impossible as well, so there was no reason to single this out as impossible either.

Below the note were some simple ingredients and a symbol Spike could only explain as a dragon scale within a scale encompassed by an octagon. The instructions read; ' Take a talon, scale and fang and place within Maegia Ring. Step inside Maegia Ring and scorch ingredients. Wait.' Spike quickly grabbed a couple of these things from Twilight's desk (she always kept the strangest things in there...) and ran to the corner where the books used to be. The talon and fang were easy to find, but the scale gave him much more trouble. No matter where he looked he couldn't find a single loose scale. Spike became desperate, scampering around the library searching for just one, just one stray scale he could use. Suddenly, he realized what the instructions wanted from him.

  He slowly trudged over to the ingredients and drew the symbol he had seen in the instructions. With extreme care, he plucked one of the scales from the center of his chest; a small stream of green blood came trickling out of the wound. He placed the scale at the center of the symbol, the blood giving the scale a slightly bluish hue against the purple backdrop. He mustered up as much strength as he could, and let loose a torrent of flame from his mouth. It singed the Encyclopedia slightly, but  it seemed fine after he examined it later.

Meanwhile, the circle grew a bright purple color, exactly the same as his scales. the green blood rose from the scale and formed a small, green crystal, something like a strange emerald. Without warning, it shot itself straight down into the scale, shattering it into a thousand tiny purple grains of sand. Suddenly, the other ingredients seemed to dissipate and melt into the floor. Spike took several steps back, before trying to make a break for it, only to be held back by some invisible force; he was trapped inside the circle. Without warning, a bright green fog came up from the symbol he had drawn, filling his lungs with what felt like rocks and his entire body with dread.

When the fog finally cleared, Spike saw someone standing in the center who he had never expected to see again. His yellow eyes pierced the darkness, a claw extended in greeting.

"It is nice to see you again, Spike. Did you enjoy that book I gave you?"