The Kiss of Immortal Love

~ XI ~

Far Away

Rarity watched with an open mouth, the scene reflected in her blue eyes, ones glistened in a sheet. The veil over them like the fire had been in his. That sword snapped beneath his dimming arm and, in a strike upward that saw its tip pointed at the sky—the fiery-arm fell from his side.

It clashed and clattered on the ground, bursting upon contact, spreading and thinning and washing away. Fire and flames acting like water and the sea? It was a contradiction if viewed on the surface.

Spike stumbled backward from the loss of a limb, his body sent into a shock, the kind wobbling his knees and distributing his nervous system. Turning around required many shaky steps, more born as he strode toward them—gripping the side of the colossal dragon's jaw.

The front of a great ship, pulled across the stone, the cliff of brown set across in fire, growing, as it came closer. The sword had been dropped on the ground, not impaled but left on its side, reflecting the glint of the sun between the blotches of blood.

Spike didn't look at them as he walked closer, and Twilight buried herself deeper into Rarity's body, the place between her torso and where the spider portion of her began, not creeped out by the place usually scary or monstrous.

Or maybe it was. And the husk of a demon above proved worse than that. Maybe oh maybe.

The dragon seemed to be looking toward something, an object left on the ground and, when he came before it, stopped. The ship of a dragon burned next to him, still and, with a light shove—pushed it off the side of the bridge.

Crashing currents whistled from below, followed from the quaking thud shaking the valley, tension easing to peace. In the stillness for which not even winds interfered, nothing of the demon remained in Rarity's eyes.

He was different now. Distance rendered it harder to see. Even the queen had to crane her neck back to see up to the dragon's face. Wider frame and bigger arms and stronger muscles. Covered in blood and marks and internal remains. The creature that lurks on the edge of nightmares staring in.

It would have been a horrifying monster to see, only that, during his transformation back, something was exposed that normally wasn't. Despite the beast standing before them, its face, half-exposed, hadn't been blank.

Rarity couldn't articulate it. The words to describe it. Seeing that dragon transform into a fiery-demon that brutalized a battle-worn monster and beast. It's rage given flames, the intense roars of agony, a creature born of nightmares.

Spike looked sad.

Twilight had looked up as well, no mask or flaming veil, what he was, underneath it all, finally revealed. No words could summon the feeling or emotion on his face or expression. Nothing that could encompass the statement in her head.

Spike looked sad.

He leaned forward as a digit of his claw scooped the mask up, the part broken up from before, now too small to cover his face. Yet he pressed the small object against it, holding it there as he turned around, his body dwindling. Shrinking and shrinking after every step, away from them, becoming smaller, until the mast would fit again.

Limping away, having won, doing what must be done, being tucked inside his duty. His form became obscured by haze as he limped away into the horizon, set to the other side of the bridge alone, leaving behind his sword.

Something shifted against Rarity's chest. Glancing down to see a purple muzzle looking up. Twilight's violet gems swollen around the lids, her lips wobbly, whimpering, exhaling exhausting breaths—an emotional mess.

Both of them were.

For they did not know what to do.

As their dragon limped away.

Leaving another, burning, at the bottom of the valley.