Sitting on the charred stumps where Damien and I once clashed at the foot of Canterlot Mountain, I spent the past few hours breaking down the basics of energy control. Spike, having spent his entire life assisting Twilight, unsurprisingly grasped everything I explained with ease.

"But how exactly does this help me?" He asked, his head tilted in curiosity.

I smirked knowingly. "Well, from what I understand about Unicorn magic, they simply funnel enough magic into a spell to power it, and voilà—it works. Add more, and the spell gets stronger. But if they don't channel enough energy, the spell either fizzles out or produces a weaker effect. For us, though—" I gestured between him and myself, "—things are a bit different. Sure, we have the energy needed for spells, but we can't cast them like Unicorns, nor do we have their natural focusing tools. Instead, we use energy in our own unique way."

I paused, standing and walking a few paces as a faint spark of energy flared in my hand, a mundane butter knife materializing out of thin air within my grasp. Twirling it a little through my fingers, I held it up for him to see. "For example, we can transform everyday objects into something far deadlier—like this."

Spike's eyes widened as I held the knife aloft, a faint purple glow coating its surface. Wisps of lilac flame began to flicker along the blade’s dull edge. With a quick swing, I sent a shimmering arc of fire slicing through a nearby dead tree. The wood splintered in two with a resounding crack, and the impact sent ash and dirt into the air.

Without missing a beat, I flipped the knife in my hand, holding it by the blade. "And that’s not all." Bracing it above my shoulder, I threw it with a sharp, controlled motion. The knife whistled through the air, spinning end over end as it cleaved through one tree, then another, before embedding itself deep into a boulder some distance away.

"And that, young Padawan," I said with a grin, turning back to him, "is just a taste of what even basic energy control can do."

Spike stared at the knife, his mouth agape and his eyes wide with awe. Then, snapping out of his stupor, he threw his hands into the air. "That was awesome!" He shouted, practically bouncing with excitement. "Is that what you’re gonna teach me? Are you gonna show me how to use weapons like that?"

I chuckled. "Not quite—at least, not right away. I might not need to teach you at all if this goes well."

His shoulders sagged slightly in disappointment, but I offered him an encouraging smile. "Spike?" I said, catching his gaze, "It’s my understanding that Draconians are often called ‘Titans’ for their ability to transform into pseudo-dragons. Is that true?"

He perked up, nodding. "Well, that's the old term, but yeah. A Draconian can grow in size and shift into a quadrupedal form to mimic our Draconic originator. Why?"

"Because," I said with a grin, "Why would you need to lug around a twenty-foot sword when you can become the weapon yourself? Carrying giant weapons just wouldn’t make sense. I wouldn't use a weapon in my Demon form unless it was improvised like a boulder or a tree for example. No. Instead, when the time comes, I’ll teach you close-quarters combat. But for now, we’re focusing on energy control. That’s step one."

Spike tilted his head, clearly intrigued. "So, how are you going to teach me to control my energy?"

"Ah!" I exclaimed, standing up and walking toward a nearby tree that had miraculously survived the earlier destruction. Placing my hand on its trunk, I turned back to him with a wide grin. "With this!"

Spike blinked. "A tree?"

"It’s not the tree itself that’s important—it’s what we’re going to do with it," I said, my grin widening. "I’m going to teach you how to climb trees!"

His expression flattened as though I had just sprouted a second head. "Our top-secret training...is tree climbing?"

"Not just any tree climbing," I replied, raising a finger for emphasis. "Here’s the twist: you have to climb it without using your hands or arms. Only your feet."

Spike’s jaw dropped. "How is that even possible?!"

"By using your energy! It’s like the last two hours didn’t even happen," I said with mock exasperation. "Watch closely."

Turning back to the tree, I planted my foot against its rough bark. A soft pink glow spread from the point of contact, anchoring me to the surface. Slowly, I began walking up the tree’s trunk as though gravity had decided to take the day off. When I reached a thick branch, I hung upside down from it, grinning down at Spike.

"Whoa!" he shouted, his head craned back to look at me. "How are you doing that?!"

"Like I said," I replied with a smirk, releasing the energy in my feet and flipping gracefully to the ground, "it’s all about energy control."

Spike rushed over, his face alight with fascination. "Do you remember the basics I taught you?" I asked.

He nodded eagerly.

"Good," I said, dusting my hand on my coat. "Because it’s your turn now. Just know this—it won’t be easy. It might take a week or two before you get the hang of it, and there will be plenty of falling. That’s where the blood, sweat, and tears come in. But if you stick with it, you’ll succeed. Now," I said, stepping aside and gesturing to the tree, "get ready to start climbing."

~~

Watching Spike’s training in the beginning was, admittedly, rather dull. I had seen it countless times before with others, so I was used to the monotony. All he did was stand there, trying to focus, his expression a mix of determination and confusion. For the first two days, Spike didn’t even attempt to climb one of the trees. He remained planted on the ground, staring at his feet like they were about to betray him. But by the third day, his frustration was palpable.

"I just don’t understand what I’m doing wrong here!" he exclaimed, his spines drooping as his frustration boiled over. "I’m trying to focus my energy into my feet like you told me, but nothing’s happening!"

"You’ll get it, Spike. Hell, it took me weeks to figure it out," I said, trying to reassure him. I tapped the leather and metal of my peg leg for emphasis. "And trust me, it’s no walk in the park when you’ve got a bum leg. I had to figure out how to channel my energy from my stump, through the metal connector rod, and into the mechanisms before it reached the rubber sole. You think you’ve got it hard? Try focusing energy through a bunch of moving parts that aren’t even yours. If I could manage that, then you can with your own two feet. You just need time."

"But I don’t feel anything," He groaned, throwing his arms up.

"That makes sense," I replied. "You’ve got no experience working with energy like...this..." My words trailed off as a sudden thought struck me, and my eyes widened.

The faint flicker of an idea sparked into a plan. Fire flared across my eyes as my vision shifted, granting me a view of the unseen spectrum of energy. Thin wisps of green energy radiated softly from Spike’s shoulders, trailing upward like thin vapour trails. While my demonic side excelled at brute force, my angelic nature specialized in precision—especially when it came to reading the flow of energy.

"Spike?" I said, the edge of excitement in my voice making him tilt his head. "Breathe out a stream of fire for me."

His brow furrowed. "What? Why?"

"Do you want me to help you or not?" I shot back, raising an eyebrow.

To his credit, he didn’t argue further. With a resigned shrug, Spike inhaled deeply and let out a steady stream of flames. My vision zeroed in on the flow of energy. The wisps of green vapour that hovered around his shoulders focused inward, gathering in his chest before surging upward and out of his throat. The flame left his mouth in a controlled burst, almost effortless, matching the same green hue as the wisps around him.

That was when it clicked. Spike’s issue wasn’t a lack of energy; it was his perception of it. He was separating the energy he used for his flames from the energy he needed for his feet—treating them as two entirely different forces.

I snapped my fingers and pointed at him. "That’s it!"

Spike immediately stopped, looking at me in confusion. "What’s what?"

"The same energy you’re using for your fire," I explained, "is what you need to channel into your feet." I lifted my peg leg, showing him the faint pink glow radiating from the rubber sole. "Bring that energy down from your chest, just like you do with your flames, but push it into your feet. Give it a shot."

Spike blinked, his confusion fading as a grin began to spread across his face. He stood still for a moment, closing his eyes in concentration. Slowly, I saw the energy shift within him. It moved down through his torso, pooling into his feet.

"That’s it," I encouraged, noticing how the energy spilt out slightly from beneath his soles. The air smelled faintly charged with his progress.

Spike opened his eyes, now brimming with confidence. "I think I’ve got it!" He said, testing the feeling. His excitement got the better of him, though. Without hesitation, he sprinted toward the nearest tree, his feet glowing with concentrated energy.

"Careful," I muttered under my breath, suppressing a smirk.

He managed to take two solid steps up the trunk before the excess energy destabilized him. His footing slipped, and he tumbled backwards, landing flat on his back with a resounding thud.

"Ow!" He yelped, clutching the back of his head. "Why didn’t it work!?"

I couldn’t help but chuckle as I walked over and offered him a hand. "You put way too much energy into your feet," I explained, pulling him to his feet. His glare only made me laugh harder. "But hey, good job getting the energy down there. Any progress is still progress."

Spike scowled. "You said once I got the energy in my feet, I’d be able to climb the tree!"

"Nope," I corrected with a smirk. "I said you’d need control. Too much energy and you’ll blow right off the tree. Too little, and you’ll slide down like it’s covered in grease. The trick is constantly adjusting your output to match the tree’s grooves and texture. I never said it’d be easy."

I stepped back, putting my hand idly on my hip. "Now, try again. And this time, don’t rush it."

Spike looked at me for a moment, determination once again replacing his frustration. He nodded, stepping toward the tree with a newfound focus. I couldn’t help but smile as I watched him prepare for another attempt. He’d get it—eventually.

In the weeks that followed, our routine remained consistent. Each morning began with an hour or two of fishing, followed by long, rigorous training sessions that occupied the rest of the day. Despite the gruelling schedule, Spike’s enthusiasm never faltered. In fact, as the days turned into weeks, his determination only grew stronger, a relentless fire in his eyes that seemed to burn brighter with every passing challenge.

Twilight, unsurprisingly, couldn’t resist trying to uncover what we were up to. Her curiosity manifested in endless questions, but to her growing frustration, Spike held firm and refused to divulge anything. True to his word, he kept the details of our activities a secret, even as he returned home each evening utterly exhausted. Watching her exasperation from the sidelines was a source of quiet amusement for me. The others in town, fortunately, didn’t press us much, occasionally tossing out a question or two but mostly leaving us to our own devices.

As winter deepened, snow began to blanket the ground in thick, pristine layers. The chill didn’t bother us, and we pressed on with our training undeterred. Still, the sight of the snow brought something to mind: Hearth’s Warming Eve was fast approaching, and I realized I hadn’t given Spike much of a break since we started. For someone who’d started this journey with zero control over his abilities, his progress had been remarkable. But even the most determined trainee needs rest, and I decided a week off would likely do him a world of good.

In the meantime, I was immersed in my own project. Unfortunately, my previous work on designing an arm had been completely obliterated during my clash with the Kraken, forcing me to start over from scratch. Countless hours had been poured into redrawing schematics, often leading to sleepless nights. Not that I minded. What did weigh on me, however, was Ghost’s continued unresponsiveness. No matter what the Doctors tried, there was no sign of him stirring, and the fear that he might never wake gnawed at the back of my mind.

One cold afternoon, as Spike practised near the tree we’d been using as a training ground, I found myself pacing. My footsteps carved a groove into the snow as I carefully scrutinized his every move, analyzing his form and technique.

“You’ve got this, bud,” I called out encouragingly. “Almost there!”

“Shut up!” He shot back between heavy breaths, his voice laced with both frustration and determination. “I’m concentrating!”

I couldn’t help but grin. This was why I liked the kid. He wasn’t afraid to speak his mind, even with me. Unlike Twilight’s relationship with Celestia, Spike didn’t see me as some untouchable authority figure. We were equals in this dynamic, and I valued that.

With a mischievous smirk, I drew Ace from its holster and fired a shot into the air. The sudden crack startled Spike, causing him to yelp and tumble into the snow. He lay there, chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath, glaring at me through the flurry he’d kicked up.

“Good news!” I announced with a grin so wide it probably annoyed him. “Starting tomorrow, you’re getting time off!”

“What’s…the occasion?” He managed to ask, still winded.

“The holidays are reason enough,” I said, walking over and offering him a hand up. “And you’ve earned it. Your progress has been phenomenal. So, take the next week to relax. Spend time with Twilight, sing carols, eat cookies, and listen to stories. Hell, maybe try your luck with some mistletoe while you’re at it.”

Spike chuckled as he brushed the snow off himself. “Sounds like a great idea to me,” he said, a sly smile creeping across his face. “Besides, I think Twilight would probably kill you if you made me train during Hearth’s Warming Eve.”

“Yeah, trust me, I’m not itching for another lecture from her.”

The walk back to Ponyville was peaceful, the kind of quiet that comes with fresh snowfall muffling the world. We stopped briefly at Zecora’s hut to wish her happy holidays, exchanging warm regards before continuing on. When I finally dropped Spike off at the library, Twilight was waiting, looking unimpressed—again—with the state I’d left him in.

As expected, she immediately began peppering him with questions, her concern and curiosity blending into one. To her obvious irritation, Spike avoided answering any of them. I didn’t mind if he made up harmless excuses, so long as he kept the specifics of our training under wraps. I figured it was his way of playfully tormenting her, something I could definitely relate to. After all, teasing a sibling you love is a universal pastime.

The holiday spirit had fully enveloped Ponyville by now. String lights adorned rooftops, snow sculptures dotted the streets, and laughter filled the air as children engaged in snowball fights. Carolers strolled from house to house, and the smell of warm cider and baked treats wafted through the town. The festive atmosphere was infectious, and I found myself smiling as I passed by cheerful people.

My steps carried me to Sugarcube Corner, where I often stopped for food and hot chocolate after training sessions. The cosy bakery had outdone itself with decorations this year—a large Christmas tree stood proudly in the corner, surrounded by twinkling lights and ornaments. The smell of gingerbread hit me as soon as I walked through the door, filling me with a sense of warmth and nostalgia. I waved to a few of my staff enjoying their well-earned holiday break before heading to my usual table.

Waiting for me there was a familiar face.

“How’s it going, Pinkie?” I asked, settling into my seat across from her.

She giggled, her energy as infectious as ever. “Sweet!” Pinkie chirped, flashing me two hang-loose hand gestures—a habit she picked up from me during one of my first visits after starting Spike’s training. Rolling my eyes at her antics, I watched as she reached into her voluminous pink hair and pulled out a steaming mug of hot chocolate and a plate of doughnuts. I still don’t know how she does that. “Here you go! The usual! I added extra cocoa because I know you like it a bit bitter,” she said with a cheery grin.

“Thanks, Pinks,” I replied, snatching a doughnut before she could inhale the entire plate. This little ritual had become my favourite way to wind down after training, and as always, her joy was as comforting as the food.

Pinkie wasted no time devouring most of the treats while I took a few careful bites. Between mouthfuls, she announced the group’s latest plan. “Guess what! We’re all heading to Canterlot tomorrow to rehearse the Hearth’s Warming Eve play!” She said, practically bouncing in her seat. “Apparently, the Princesses think we’re perfect for the roles.” She added a coy flutter of her lashes as if feigning modesty. “We’re all super excited!”

“Oh, really? I couldn’t tell,” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

She either missed it entirely or chose to ignore it. “Well, duh, that’s why I’m telling you!” She quipped back without missing a beat.

I stared at her for a moment, realizing my dry humour had gone right over her head. “Right...” I replied in my best Doctor Evil impression. “Well, I’ll have to come and see, then.”

“Wait, are you coming to Canterlot?” she asked, her eyes widening.

“Yeah,” I nodded. “I’ll be visiting Ghost.”

"Oh," Her energy shifted in an instant. The usually bubbly Pinkie softened, her voice gentle. “I know you probably want to see him by yourself, but you know we’d all be happy to come along. You don’t have to do it alone.”

Her words tugged at something deep inside me, and a genuine smile spread across my face. “Thanks, Pinks. If I think you’re worthy enough, I might consider letting you tag along.”

Pinkie giggled, standing up to clear the mug and plate. “That’s all we ask!” she replied with a playful wink.

As she bounced off, I gathered my things and started walking home. The streets were lively with the chatter of townsfolk, and I exchanged a few waves as I passed by. Ducking to avoid a rogue snowball, I finally caught sight of my house. But standing outside the door, arms crossed and radiating irritation was none other than Twilight.

Sighing, I braced myself for the lecture I knew was coming and approached her without hesitation. Despite being a full head shorter than me, she had mastered the universal look—the one that screamed, You did something wrong.

"I know I agreed to trust you but I can't let this sit," Twilight said sternly, her voice clipped as she glared up at me. “Why is Spike always so exhausted?”

I sighed as, even though I hoped it wouldn't happen, I knew she would eventually give and start asking questions. But how could I possibly explain that it was Spike’s own determination—and occasional clumsiness—that left him so drained? I knew she wouldn’t believe me. Worse, if I told her too much, she’d start prying into how my powers worked. And if there was one thing I knew about Twilight, it was that her curiosity was insatiable. I had specifically instructed Spike not to tell her anything, which only seemed to fuel her frustration.

“Because we're training, Twilight,” I replied simply, gently nudging her aside so I could unlock my door. “Same we've been doing for weeks.”

“Please, just tell me something!” She pressed, her tone shifting from exasperation to desperation. “You know how worried I am about him! Every time I see him, he’s barely awake and when I ask him why, he just gives me vague answers! I know you’d never hurt him on purpose, but he’s my brother. I need to know he’s safe.”

I paused, turning back to face her. “He’s fine, Twilight,” I said firmly, though I softened my tone to ease her nerves. “He’s tired, yes, but that’s because we’re focusing on building his endurance. Nothing more. Are we really going to have this conversation?”

Her expression wavered, the fight draining from her shoulders. “I know,” she admitted quietly. “I just... I’m worried about him.”

“Has Spike ever complained about his training or said he feels unsafe?” I asked pointedly. She opened her mouth to respond, but I cut her off. “Not from being tired or dramatic,” I added, raising a finger to emphasize the distinction. Her mouth snapped shut, and her gaze fell to the ground, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

I sighed, whatever small frustration I felt giving way to sympathy. “Come here,” I said, holding out an arm. Twilight hesitated for only a moment before stepping into my embrace, burying her face against my chest. She sniffled but didn’t cry, which I took as a small victory.

“If it makes you feel better,” I said softly, “I’m giving Spike the holidays off.”

She pulled back slightly, looking up at me with wide, disbelieving eyes. “You mean it?”

“I mean it,” I confirmed, smiling faintly. “He’s earned it.”

“Why?” Twilight asked, tilting her head slightly, her curious gaze sharp yet warm. “I didn’t take you for the type to celebrate Hearth’s Warming.”

“Hey now, I can be just as festive as the rest of you!” I replied with exaggerated offence, holding a hand to my chest as if wounded by her words. My display earned a soft giggle from the studious librarian. “Now,” I continued, leaning against the doorframe with a grin, “If I recall correctly, you’re heading to Canterlot tomorrow for a rather important rehearsal. So why don’t you go pack up, spend some time with Spike, and enjoy your evening? We didn’t exactly work ourselves to the bone today.”

Twilight opened her mouth to respond, but whatever rebuttal she had planned faltered. Instead, she paused, then nodded slowly, her expression softening. “…You know what? I think I will.”

I waved her off, closing the door gently behind her as I headed upstairs. My thoughts were already turning to the simple but necessary preparations for the next day: a warm cup of Zecora’s ready tea, a good book to settle my mind, and—most importantly—a long, restful sleep.

~~

The streets of Canterlot during Hearth’s Warming season were unlike anything I had ever seen before, even in this regal city. Ponyville, with its rural charm, always exuded a cosy, handcrafted warmth—a feeling that was as inviting as a crackling fire on a cold winter night. Canterlot, however, was the polar opposite.

Banners fluttered in the brisk winter breeze, their vibrant colours bright against the muted greys and whites of snow-dusted streets and buildings. Strings of enchanted lights shimmered like captured stars, illuminating even the midday sky. Decorations adorned every streetlamp and storefront, while more elaborate displays were suspended mid-air by sturdy wires, forming arches of tinsel and gold. Shops and cafes, bustling with people dressed in their winter finest, had a surprising air of homeliness despite being nestled in the heart of Equestria’s capital.

It was a dazzling, almost overwhelming spectacle—yet beautiful in its own right.

As I approached the grand gates of Canterlot Castle, the Guards stationed there straightened and saluted, their armour catching the light of the winter sun. Returning the gesture with a nod, I made my way through the castle’s familiar corridors, each twist and turn etched into my memory like an old, well-worn map. The staff greeted me warmly as I passed, their holiday cheer a more than welcome addition to the usually quiet halls. Before long, I found myself standing outside the infirmary.

Pushing the door open, I stepped inside and offered a kind smile to the receptionist. “Happy Hearth’s Warming,” I said softly before continuing down the hall to Ghost’s room.

As always, he lay there, unmoving, his steady breathing the only sign of life. The sight was both comforting and heartbreaking, a mix of emotions I had long since stopped trying to untangle. Pulling up a chair beside him, I placed a small, neatly wrapped box on the nightstand and settled in.

“Hey, bud,” I greeted with a faint smile, my voice gentle. “It’s been a while. Sorry, I haven’t been by more often. Things have been… well, you won’t believe half of what’s happened.”

Leaning back in my chair, I chuckled weakly. “First of all, Damien’s back. Can you believe that? That guy’s like a cockroach—impossible to get rid of. Fitting, isn’t it?” I shook my head, a rueful smile on my face.

“Oh, and I had a pretty intense heart-to-heart with Applejack,” I continued. “I told her some of the things I’ve told you. Not everything, but more than anyone else knows. She probably passed some of it along to Rarity—she’s got a way of pulling gossip out of ponies without even trying—but you know what? It helped. More than I realized it could.”

My voice softened, the words laced with a vulnerability I rarely let slip. “It reminded me that… I’m not as alone as I think I am sometimes. I told her about Tiche, too. Everything. I think I rambled about her for way longer than I meant to. Haven’t done that in a while.”

I exhaled a shaky breath, a quiet laugh escaping me as I rubbed the back of my neck. “And here’s the real kicker—I’ve got an apprentice now. I bet you can guess who. He’s determined, I’ll give him that. Tenacious like I haven’t seen in years, and he’s making progress faster than I thought possible. Give him another week, and he’ll be at the top of the damn tree.”

For a moment, I fell silent, my gaze drifting to Ghost’s still form. “I don’t know why I was so afraid,” I admitted quietly. “I’ve always loved what I do, and knowing I’m helping someone else grow into their potential… it feels good. Really good. Like I’ve found a piece of myself I didn’t know I was missing.”

I smiled faintly, my tone softening even further. “He knows, by the way. About me. About what I am and why I am the way I am. That was the hardest part—being honest, being vulnerable enough to show him. He did flinch. He flinched hard. But he didn’t run. He...took it shockingly well, all things considered. He’s going to go far, that one.”

The hours slipped by as I sat there, talking to Ghost about anything and everything that came to mind. There was no structure to my words, no careful curation of topics—just a flowing stream of thoughts and memories. I reminisced about old friends, faraway places, and the countless adventures and mishaps that had shaped my life. Sometimes I laughed, other times I simply let the memories wash over me in silence.

Eventually, my words dwindled into quiet, my hand coming to rest on his forearm as it always did during these visits. The small, familiar gesture was as much for him as it was for me—a silent reminder that, no matter what, I was still here.

The door opened softly, and I made no effort to turn and see who it was. Gentle footsteps approached until they stopped just behind me, and a light hand rested on my shoulder. I glanced over, surprised to find Cadence, of all people. She was dressed far more casually than the last time I’d seen her—a simple pink shirt, a pair of jeans, and thick winter boots replacing her usual regal attire. Looking toward the door, I noticed her thick jacket draped neatly over the back of a chair.

“Cadence,” I said, releasing my hold on Ghost and leaning back in my chair. “What a surprise.”

“I can’t say the same,” she replied, her tone carrying a small, knowing smile. “I figured I’d find you here.”

I simply hummed in acknowledgement, turning my gaze back to the man lying in the bed before me. His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, a quiet reassurance I couldn’t seem to tear my eyes from, as though I feared it might stop if I looked away.

“You two seem close,” Cadence said softly, her hand remaining on my shoulder.

“Yeah, you could say that,” I murmured, nodding slightly. “The more time I spend with him, the less he feels like just a bodyguard or confidant. He’s starting to feel more like a brother.”

“Given everything you’ve been through together, I can’t say I’m surprised,” She said gently. “The bond makes sense—especially after what happened on the ship.” She paused. “Do you have anyone else?”

“No...not anymore,” I admitted, my voice lowering as my head dipped slightly.

“Then...who are you planning to spend Hearth’s Warming with?” she asked, her tone tentative yet curious.

“I was going to spend it alone,” I replied quietly. “Use the time to remember—and celebrate—those who aren’t here anymore.”

“That’s...sad,” she said after a moment, her voice tinged with sorrow.

“Maybe,” I shrugged lightly. “But it’s what I used to do when I was younger. It helped me appreciate what I had.”

“Why not spend some of that time with friends?” she suggested, her tone warm and inviting. “You don’t have to spend all of Hearth’s Warming with anyone, but at least share part of the holiday with someone—even if it’s just this evening.” She hesitated, then added with a smile in her voice, “At my request.”

I glanced at her and couldn’t help but chuckle softly. Turning back to Ghost, I nodded to myself.

“You know what? Screw it.”

Standing, I placed a hand gently on Ghost’s shoulder, giving it a small, reassuring squeeze. “I’ll come back soon, bud. I’ll make this a regular thing. See you later.”

Leaving the infirmary behind, Cadence and I exited the castle grounds in record time. The festive streets were still alive with activity, and as we walked, a few citizens greeted us warmly, their cheer a sharp contrast to the nobles, who kept to themselves—a detail neither of us particularly minded.

“So, who’s going to be there?” I asked suddenly, breaking the silence as we strolled.

“Just me and Shining,” She replied, pulling her thick coat tighter around her. “His parents decided to take a trip this year—to get away from the city’s hustle and bustle.”

“Fair enough,” I said with a knowing chuckle. “When I was stationed here for guard training, I eventually got used to the chaos, but it was a lot to handle.”

“I’m surprised I never ran into you back then,” I added thoughtfully.

“Oh, I was away,” Cadence said. “I spent most of that time in the Caiman Islands. I was there to establish trade routes, but an internal dispute dragged things out longer than expected. Things got...complicated.”

“Six months complicated?” I raised an eyebrow.

"It was a big dispute," She replied with an amused grin.

As we rounded the next corner, the festive atmosphere of the city gave way to a quieter street. A short walk later, we arrived at our destination: the Sparkle family household.

The house stood in a particularly nice part of Canterlot, though truthfully, all of Canterlot was nice—even the areas where rowdy teenagers hung out. Still, this neighbourhood had a certain charm, outshining most others except for the castle itself. The house was modest yet elegant, built of smooth white stone accented by soft touches of light purple framing the windows and doors. It lacked the narcissistic grandeur of some of the nearby mansions, but that only added to its appeal.

"Special delivery!" Cadence called cheerfully as we stepped inside.

I wandered deeper into the house and eventually found myself in the living room. The couches, coffee tables, and a fireplace crackling gently in the corner were all shockingly simplistic. The room had a cosy yet elegant feel, fitting well with the overall impression of the house. Spacious, well-kept, and clearly cared for—this was a nice home. Then again, considering the pristine exterior and sheer size of the place, I had already guessed as much. It was easy to see how Shining, Spike, and Twilight had grown up in such a supportive, comfortable environment. And the festive decorations only helped to amplify that cosiness.

"Sir!"

The abrupt call pulled my attention toward the doorway leading into what I assumed was the kitchen. There stood Shining Armour, wearing a simple white T-shirt and dark blue joggers, snapping off a crisp salute like we were back on duty. My expression flattened instantly as I gave him an unimpressed tilt of my head.

"Boy, I swear to God, if you don’t lower that arm."

He faltered, confusion flickering across his face, but hesitantly dropped the salute. From beside me, Cadence giggled as she shrugged off her coat and hung it on the nearby rack. With a soft smile, she stepped over to Shining and planted a kiss on his cheek, basking in his continued bewilderment. Cute.

"I didn’t exactly expect to see you here, Sir," Shining admitted slowly.

"Yeah, well, I have a knack for showing up unannounced," I replied with a casual shrug.

"That you do, Sir."

I sighed, pointing directly at him. "Shining Armour, look me in the eyes. Neither of us are on duty. Lose the formalities. It’s the holidays. Chill."

Cadence smirked at him as she slipped her shoes off. "He has trouble loosening up around his superiors," she teased. "I’m the only exception."

"Hey! I can be relaxed when I want to be," Shining shot back, crossing his arms defensively.

"That’s bullshit and you know it~" Cadence sing-songed as she headed up the stairs.

"Jesus Christ," I muttered with a shake of my head. "And they call you a princess. Such terrible manners."

"Bah!" Was her only reply before she disappeared from sight.

Amused by their antics, I turned back to Shining, who now wore a wide grin. He seemed to snap back to reality, offering me a seat just as Cadence returned from upstairs and disappeared into the kitchen. Shrugging off my coat, Shining was quick to take it from me and hang it up for me. With a quiet bamf, I dismissed the rest of my gear—putting it on every morning had become second nature at this point. I settled into a seat, the crackle of the fireplace mixing with the faint hum of Cadence in the kitchen and the occasional clatter of utensils.

"So," Shining began suddenly, "I heard you’ve taken Spike on as your apprentice."

"That I have," I replied, nodding approvingly. "He’s making impressive progress. Twilight, on the other hand, is stressed beyond belief—bless her heart."

"Permission to speak freely, Sir?"

I waved a hand dismissively. "This is your home, Shining. You don’t need permission to speak."

His eyes narrowed, his tone turning serious. "Hurt my little brother, and your ass is mine."

A wide grin spread across my face, a spark of pride for the young man flickering in my chest. "Good. That’s exactly what I want to hear. Never be afraid to stand up to me—especially when it comes to your family."

"I’ll… I’ll keep that in mind," He murmured, clearly surprised but appreciative.

The soft clattering from the kitchen paused briefly before picking back up again, the humming returning with it. Shining seemed thoughtful for a moment, so I decided to shift the conversation.

"But, you and Cadence, huh?" I said, dropping my voice slightly. "How long’s that been a thing?"

Shining glanced toward the kitchen, the corners of his mouth tugging upward in a faint smile. "About nine years now—give or take a few months."

My grin widened. "Have you popped the question yet?"

His smile grew fractionally larger. "Proposed three years ago," he admitted.

I leaned forward, my tone warm and teasing. "How nervous were you? Hands clammy? Knees shaking? Heart pounding so hard you thought it might burst? Did you prepare a whole speech, only to improvise because you got tongue-tied when the moment actually came?"

His eyes widened, his mouth opening and closing like a fish as he stared at me. Finally, he managed to find his voice. "Yes to… all of that. How did you know?"

"Oh, that’s easy," I replied, casually reaching down to loosen the strap of my prosthetic leg. "I was married."

"WHAT!?"

Cadence’s shout startled me so much that I flinched, my prosthetic half-removed. She skidded dramatically into the room, eyes wide and wild as she rushed up to me. Grabbing my shoulders, she shook me like a maraca.

"YOU WERE MARRIED!?" She practically screamed. "AND YOU NEVER TOLD ME!?"

Laughing as she continued to shake me, I freed the peg leg and set it beside the chair. Looking up at her manic expression, I simply smirked. "The topic never came up."

"You’re going to tell me everything," She said sternly, pointing a finger at me before retreating back to the kitchen.

Minutes later, she reappeared carrying a tray of steaming mugs, the rich scent of cocoa filling the air. She placed the tray on the coffee table and handed out the mugs. I took mine, savouring the warmth, while Shining and Cadence blew gently on theirs to cool the liquid.

"So," Cadence said, fixing me with a determined look, her curiosity practically radiating off her. Even Shining seemed eager to hear more. "Spill."

"Where do I even begin?" I chuckled softly, glancing between my two attentive listeners.

"Start from the beginning—when you two first met," Shining suggested, his voice carrying a boyish eagerness I was surprised to hear. Cadence must be rubbing off on him as she nodded in agreement, her curiosity practically shining in her eyes.

"Well, let me tell you, it’s not exactly the kind of story you’d find in a romance novel," I said with a wry laugh. "At least, not the conventional kind of romantic."

Their expectant gazes pulled me back into the past, and I took a breath before beginning. "I was approached by the leader of a group, the name escapes me. He was a family member of an old friend. He’d heard rumours about an artefact, one said to be able to protect their town from creatures that hunted in the night. The artefact was supposed to act as a deterrent, a ward of sorts. The leader had sent his daughter to retrieve it, but she never came back. That’s where I entered the picture. I happened to be passing through the town at the time, and... well, let’s just say I’m not very good at ignoring people in need."

Cadence and Shining leaned in, fully immersed as I continued.

"So after what I can only describe as mild persuading, I agreed to investigate. They sent me down to where the daughter had disappeared, and it didn’t take long for me to discover the truth: she’d been turned to stone. Encased completely, as though frozen in time. Turns out, an artefact wasn’t the only thing lurking down there." I paused, letting the memory settle for a moment. "A beast had claimed the place as its lair—something monstrous that would turn anyone foolish enough to enter into stone. I fought it for what felt like hours, every moment feeling longer than the last. By the end of it, I was battered, exhausted... but alive. And when the beast finally fell, something miraculous happened. Everyone who had been turned to stone was restored, including the leader’s daughter."

"She found the artefact, I assume?" Cadence asked, hanging on every word.

I smiled faintly. "She did. To be honest, I hadn’t expected the thing to even exist. But with the artefact in hand, we were able to defend the town against the creatures of the night. Though, I have to admit," I added softly, "I wasn’t initially planning to help."

"Wait, what?" Shining said, his shock almost comical. "Why not?"

"At that point in my life, I was... jaded. Tired" I admitted, my voice quieter now. "I’d lost a part of myself, a part that I wasn’t sure I’d ever get back. I felt empty. Hollow. But despite all of that, the instinct to protect was still there. And I think she knew it." I paused, allowing a warm smile to break through. "She was persuasive—annoyingly so. A stubborn, infuriating woman, if nothing else. She utterly refused to let me wallow in my self-pity and managed to talk me into helping the town. And for reasons I still don’t fully understand, she decided to stick around. And damn, am I glad she did."

"What was her name?" Cadence asked softly, her voice almost reverent.

"Tiche," I said, the name slipping from my lips like a whisper. "Tiche Fairwind." My gaze fell distant as her image flickered in my mind—her golden eyes, that fearless grin, the way she stood so unwavering against the odds.

"Tell us about her," Cadence encouraged gently.

I blinked, returning to the present, my thumb absently running over the smooth golden band on my finger. "She was a Chimera," I murmured, a soft chuckle escaping me. "An opossum Chimera, to be specific. She had the brightest golden eyes you could imagine, and these adorable sabrecat fangs that always poked out, especially when she smiled. She was barely five-foot-nothing, but that never stopped her. It probably fueled her determination now I think about it. She was absolutely fearless. I watched her face down creatures three times her size without so much as flinching."

"She sounds amazing," Shining said quietly, awe lacing his tone. Cadence nodded beside him, her expression gentle.

"She was more than that," I said softly, the words catching slightly in my throat. "She was everything. She reignited something in me that I thought I’d lost forever—my passion for helping others, for protecting those who couldn’t protect themselves. She reminded me of who I was."

The room fell silent for a moment before Cadence broke it with a tentative question. "Did you two... ever have children?"

I laughed heartily at that, the sound surprising even me. "Oh, yes. Yes, we did."

Her eyes lit up with wonder. "How many?"

I grinned mischievously. "Brace yourselves for this one—we had six."

"SIX?!" They shouted in unison, their disbelief making me laugh again.

"No wonder you handled that situation on the ship so effortlessly," Shining muttered, shaking his head.

The mood shifted subtly then. I saw the hesitation in Cadence’s expression, the way she glanced at me, her voice catching before she spoke. "What... what happened to them?"

My smile faltered, the weight of the question pressing down on me. My throat tightened as I tried to find the words. "I...I don’t know," I admitted, my voice barely more than a whisper. They stared at me, stunned into silence. "You remember the crystal that was brought back from Las Almas, don’t you?"

They both nodded, their expressions solemn.

"Well, what most people don’t realize is that I was sent back in time. Thousands—countless thousands—of years back. And there was a catch: I had a time limit. I was defending my family, our home, when I was ripped away. Just like that." I swallowed hard, my voice trembling as I continued. "I don’t know what became of them. I don’t know if they died that day, or if they survived and were just...lost to time. All I know is that they’re not here. None of them are."

A tear slipped free before I could stop it, and I wiped it away quickly. I hadn’t even noticed Cadence move until her soft, bright pink wings folded around me, followed by two pairs of arms pulling me into a warm embrace. For a long moment, I just sat there, frozen by the gesture, before finally allowing myself to hug them back. My single arm gripped their arms lightly, and I rested my head against Cadence’s shoulder.

"I’m so sorry," She whispered, her voice thick with emotion. I could hear the tears she was fighting to hold back. "I’m so sorry you had to go through that."

Shining’s voice followed, quieter but just as sincere. "If you ever need anything—even if it’s just someone to listen—we’re here."

I managed a small smile, the warmth of their compassion easing the ache, even if only slightly. "Just... cherish what you two have," I said quietly. "Promise me that."

"We will," Cadence replied quickly, her voice filled with conviction. "For Tiche."

Author's Note

Second to last chapter of the year, thought I'd put one out with a bit more of a festive feel to it with a bit of bittersweet

Not much to say other than I hope you all have a great holiday

Please point out any mistakes I may have made
Constructive criticism is always appreciated
Until next time, TTFN!