The Collective

They marched onto the capitol, shrouded in darkness. Their swords threw pale shimmers through the night, the sound of their steps signaling the end to those who were still alive.

But it would be okay. He knew it would be okay. There was a trap laid out, and it would trigger and stop them.

They came to a halt before the ivory gate, bothered not by the menacing light that shone from its stakes. Some of them parted from the group, straying to the left and right, through the forest of marble trees and glistening crystal dust. Others fell victim to the gate, dozens losing their lives as the light fought back, ravines of white energy casting trenches of dead bodies through the army, but it was not enough, not enough, and all too soon others took their place.

Far to the north, on top of the highest summit in the world, stood four lone figures, their silhouettes casting tall shadows onto the ground beneath. Their gazes were set onto an object in their midst, their mouths moving in unison, casting the charm that would save them all.

This was it. This would work. It just had to.

And then the plan came into effect. The plan he had known about, but had so desperately wanted to fail. Below his wandering eyes, each one of the four figures was murdered, neutralized before the ritual could succeed.

And the ivory gate fell.

And the capitol was burned to the ground.

And the hero was killed for good, not even having fought in the battle that was now lost.

And evil had triumphed... forever.

And Spike stared in menacing disbelief at the closing lines on the final page, unable to grasp what had just happened. The world around him dissolved, and Twilight later told him that he had screamed.

Now, she came rushing into the room, her worried gaze finding him sitting in his crib, the book having fallen out of his grasp.

“Oh.” Twilight sounded relieved. “Did you finish it?”

Spike didn’t answer, his mouth agape. There was a giggle from Twilight, but it only lasted for a moment before she caught herself.

“I’m sorry, Spike. I know it has a sad ending.”

“A sad... sad... ending...” Spike repeated. “That. That. That. That. Book. Ending.”

“Hm?”

“Stories don’t. That. Sad. Stories. Don’t have sad endings.” He gulped. “Dead. Everyone. They’re all. D-dead...”

“In your comics, the good guys always win, huh?”

“I... irrrrrrrkk...” Spike realized that he was crying, but he was too desperate to care. “Is this normal for books?” he brought out. “That. This. Stories aren’t supposed to be like this. They aren’t supposed to be this real! How was it so real, Twilight? It was... I can still... I wanted him to survive...” He sobbed. “Why did he die, Twilight? Why?”

“Not all books are like that, but-”

“You knew!” He grabbed her shoulders under his claws, shaking her. “You knew! You knew! And you left me unprepared!”

“Well,” Twilight said, “of course I didn’t tell you. That would have spoiled all the fun.”

“FUN??!?”

“Ah, Spike, look. I know you are sad about the ending, but think about it this way: if you could choose to never have read it, would you?”

“I... no... but-”

“See, and you need the possibility of a bad ending in order to have suspense! If every story had a happy ending, like it is in your comics, then you’d never have any reason to be afraid. But if you know it can end poorly, even if it’s unlikely, then suddenly it’s twice as exciting! That’s one of the best things about reading! I’ve told you how much you’re missing out before, but you’ve never listened.” She had said this all in a voice that had sounded way too happy for the situation at hoof... the tragedy...

Spike stared at her for a few moments.

“I had no idea books were like that,” he said.

“I am never reading another one in my life,” he said.

“When you need another one, just ask!” Twilight excused herself with a chuckle, teleporting downstairs.

“I won’t!” Spike called after her. “I won’t ever read another one!”

One day later, he sat at an identical position in his crib, ninety pages into the next.