When blistering cold overwhelms the mind and soul, engulfing one’s heart in its icy grasp as it slowly decomposes the fabric that protects our inner most being: our hearts. Pumping the body with a fluid stream of hope, inspiration, belief, and love; the heart is a key to unlocking realm upon realm of meaning, life, and prosperity. This simple organ contains so much strength and boldness; it manages to power through the grim sights that present themselves to our tired vision, look death in the face, staring daggers into its soulless eyes, even shield the one’s we care for.
Through wind, snow, and ice. Through fire, heat, and eruption, the tiny flame that lives within all of us, the one sheltered by the eternal organ, fails to die out, fails to waver, and fails to fall. When all seems utterly lost, to the point nothing can be done, that flame always finds an answer. No matter how bleak, there is always a way out of death’s tight grip. Even if it means giving up our own life, to save the lives of others.
***
As the wind blows furious streams of cold air against the infant dragon’s face, the world goes still. He watches, wide eyed as the magnificent mountains in the distance stare at him as he falls. He watches as the thin moisture of puffy white clouds fly through him like silk. He watches as Celestia’s sun slowly sets in the distance, coloring the sky in orange. He watches as the thick tree line below him grows ever closer. He watches as the cliff base where he once stood grows further in distance. He watches as his life flashes before him, all his cherished memories, haunting fantasies, and caring friends would soon be gone.
The stinging of tears plagued his eyes and a lump formed in his throat. He shuts down the mind, loosening his limbs and letting them dangle aimlessly as he falls to the hard earth below.
“Today was going to be perfect…” he thought to himself, repeating the sentence over and over. He had planned this day for so long, waited so patiently for it, so eager to present the wondrous views of the world he loved to the one he loved.
Sweetie Belle.
He had scoped this location months ago, trying so hard to muster up enough courage and ask Sweetie to partake on this journey with him. All the preparation, all the planning, all the hoping, all the praying, all for nothing. Life slipped through his fingertips as he grew closer to the rocky ground below. But then the cruel realization hit him like a cold wave. He was not the only one falling.
A shrill scream echoed through his ears, snapping him out of his trance. Spike turned his head to the left, and saw Sweetie Belle, falling along with him. Her face was petrified in shock and fear and her eyes had gown dull as the thought of a sudden end breached her mind.
Spike was left dumbfounded by the whole situation. He fell only a few feet away from her, watching as her cotton candy mane flew upright alongside her tears. Bloody marks from timberwolves scarred her legs and chest, and a gash presented itself upon her face. Those foul beasts had pushed both Spike and Sweetie off the cliff edge; they were the ones to blame. But somehow, no matter how distraught he may have been, Spike failed to find anger towards the beasts. He failed to find anything in the bank of his emotions. It’s as if his body had run dry of feeling, everything flowing out of him like paint leaving a brush.
Spikes thoughts came to an end by another fearful scream, “SPIKE!”
At the sudden calling of his name, he tried to pear through the intense winds that confronted him at the filly. “SPIKE!” she yelled, her voice muffled by the wind, “Spike can you hear me!?”
“Yes Sweetie!” he replied, “I’m here!”
The filly stroked her arms and legs as if she was swimming, trying to get closer to the dragon. They now fell just beside each other, both
gazing into the eyes of one another, the tears making it hard to see.
“I DON’T WANT TO DIE!” she cried, “I DON’T WANT TO DIE, SPIKE!”
He tried to speak, calm her down, but he then got a glance at the vast tree line below, peppered with jagged rocks and sharp tree
branches. They weren’t going to make it, but he refused to tell her the horrific fate that they may endure. He rested his claw in her hoof, and wore the softest smile imaginable.
The two embraced in a tight hug, letting each other’s tears fall in graceful harmony as they flew above them. For Sweetie, the CMC ran
through her mind. All the magnificent times shared with them, gone. All the secrets kept between them, gone. All the unadulterated love and kindness they gifted her, gone. All gone. But holding Spike, the dragon she has adored for years, having kept a hidden passion from him, made everything feel, in a strange sense, better.
For Spike, the loving smile of Twilight had etched itself into his brain. The amazing times he has had in Ponyville flew by like a flash. It was hard to believe that he wouldn’t be experiencing another one. But holding Sweetie, the pony he had loved for years, made everything feel, in a strange sense, better.
Spike removed his head from Sweetie’s shoulder, both staring into one another’s eyes again. “Sweetie,” he said in a gloomy whisper, “You’re not going to die.”
She looked confused, but was too frightened to say anything. Little did she know, Spike had hatched an idea, one that would possibly turn this horrible reality into something different. He hugged Sweetie again, wrapping himself around her. The ground was dangerously close and he would have to act. He tilted his weight to the side, aiming his back towards the forest below, Sweetie holding him from the front.
It took a moment, but she soon realized what he was doing. “No Spike!” she cried, “No, don't do this! Please don't do this!”
He only smiled up at her and peace had finally returned to his being. “I love you, Sweetie Belle.”
As he closed his eyes shut, he held her tighter against him. She could only cry as the forest floor met with Spike’s back, cushioning Sweetie’s fall, and saving her.
