It repeated until Spike found his jaw parted without his input. The summoning of the flame within became as natural as the wind whistling within the cone. Flame spilt from his mouth, and a great sense of peace encompassed him. The flames’ green spirals grew further until a localised tempest surrounded him. The lava lake churned and roiled until all Spike could perceive was a wall of crimson blaze; the inside of the volcano subsumed beneath its vast form as if the thing had never existed in the first place. 