Everything was going wrong. Absolutely terrible, and Spike had to clean it all up. He didn't mind really, because he was good at cleaning things up, but he did mind that everything was wrong in the first place. It had been the object of Twilight's fear since day one of the whole ordeal, two months ago. Even with Pinkie working double time, just about everypony had been on edge since magic everywhere started being corrupted. That meant more papers to file, more messages to write, and less time to cook dinner. On that matter, Spike was on his way to Twilight's private kitchen. He'd gotten some assistance in discarding of documents from his pet phoenix, Peeweee, resulting in excess time which was now allotted toward preparing a home cooked meal, better than anything the royal chefs could whip up.

Spike rounded the last corner in the Castle corridors before entering Harmony's Wing, and approached the tall and majestic door. While the door was tall, Spike was more suited to it than most of Canterlot's inhabitants, long legs and arms were to be his blessing for a few more years of his life before he began to 'bulk out' as the Dracobiologist had informed him. Spike pulled open the door, and called out to his life long friend.

"Twilight! I finished early, what should I make for dinner?" He shouted just loud enough that it would echo to the last corner of the wing.

No response came. Spike frowned, and began investigations, first making his way to the central pantry, where halls sprouting off in six directions besides the entry hall would lead to the personal quarters of the Elements, and where a staircase would lead to a second floor, housing the library, kitchen, dining hall, and other facilities. The Elements had all been moved to Canterlot since the first few clues something strange was happening. But those clues were years ago, and only now had the proximity to the other leaderships of the world proved helpful.

Entering the circular room, with a central fireplace and sofas surrounding it, while book shelves and desks lined the walls, Spike admired the Architecture, just as he did every evening. Perfectly polished marble was the staple of the structure, with red velvet carpets, golden trim and silver decorations covering every corner and edge in the area. What surprised Spike was not the architecture, that was starting to become normal to him, but the pony who resided on a large arm chair facing him. Flowing, ethereal mane lead back to an alabaster head and neck, cerise eyes showed concern and a down turned mouth showed sadness. Celestia looked at Spike as he entered the room.

"Spike, I wish to tell you something." She began, sounding almost mournful.

"Jeez, who died?" Spike joked, but when Celestia's expression deepened furhter he became worried. "Wait, who died!?"

"The corrupted magic has formed a conglomerate, and it appears to be evil. The Elements went off to contain it." She spoke plainly, but her voice was on the verge of tremor, betraying honest fear.

"Are they in danger? Why didn't anypony tell me?" Spike asked angrily, his voice much louder and deeper than he remembered it being. Celestia flinched at his frustration.

The god queen sighed. "Spike, you can't go to them. It's too dangerous to send anypony other than the Elements, which I'm certain are absolutely necessary. This corruption, this... Darkness, we'll say, is clearly sentient. It has already taken the lives of many, excluding the accidents caused by the recently corrupt magic of unicorns that source back to the very same evil. I need you to stay here, please."

Spike felt faint, but at the same time every muscle in his body was coursing with vigour. He sat on a nearby bench, his thick scales depriving him of it's velvet texture. Holding his head, he barely kept hyperventilation at bay. Twilight, the rest of his friends. Rarity. They were all in grave danger, and here Celestia stood, trying to convince him that helping them was a bad idea. He shook his head, clearing his thoughts, and only one remained. Unsifted by the rattling, too dense to be cast aside was one single notion. Not even a notion, it was only a word. Harmony.

Spike stood up quickly, his intentions displayed clearly enough for Celestia to stand up as well. She barked at him, while he spun on his heels and sprinted out of the room. Celestia tried to grasp his arm, but he shook her magical grip off with sheer strength and kept running. He ran down the hall, and out the door. Through the corridors, he stopped only once to ask a guard where Twilight had gone. When he gave no help, Spike lifted him by the breastplate, held him against the wall and asked again. That did the trick, Twilight was on the crest of a hill, not a kilometer from the base of Canterlot. So Spike ran again.

He put the Castle behind him, and then the city. A few times he caught guards in his peripherals trying to chase him down. Unicorns lacked their magic as long as the 'Darkness' was in power. Earth ponies were too slow to catch him, and he could barrel through pegasi like bowling pins. Once he was out of the city, and could see the hill he meant to approach, off and away in the distance, Spike felt tired. His lungs burned and his muscles roared with pain. But spike didn't care what his muscles, or his lungs said. They didn't understand what was at stake. He whipped them into action, and kept running.

He ran as fast as he could, he swore. He tore every tendon in his body, and drove his heart to the verge of collapse, he truly did. With all his might, and all his hope, speed, power and fear, he ran. He needed to at least be there. But maybe he just wasn't meant to succeed, because he didn't make it to the crest of the hill where his friends stood to face an evil power. He made it to an empty hill, with naught but grass, and the sight of a dark form in the distance, rending apart a village. He wasn't entirely alone, though, he noticed. Six glints of gold littered the very peak of this empty, void hill.

Five necklaces and a crown lay haphazardly upon the earth. The tiniest bit of smoke rose from under them, and they were tarnished with a layer of soot. He stumbled up to the trinkets and fell to his knees. They were there, but the jewels they were meant to house were shattered, and cast across the earth. What a mess they had made, and someone had to clean it all up. Spike began to cry, but not because of the mess. Spike was good at cleaning things up.

Author's Note

This is only the prologue, a dense bit of foreshadowing and symbolism. I'd like to introduce a few things to those of you who would choose to become my audience.

Primarily, what I want from you guys is criticism, correction, and opinions. If any among you is brave enough to become an editor, I would love to work alongside you, to ensure my product is not absolute folly. That said, let's remain constructive, becasue my ego has only so much ablative armour to handle your blows.

Finally, don't correct words like vigour, armour, colour, or valour. I ask you not to do this because, little one, you are wrong.

Thanks for reading to the end, and I'm working on cleaning up the first real chapter right now! I hope you stick around for my first (hopefully) not terrible story!