The night sky is illuminated in a burst of rainbow colored fireworks, and the resulting cheers and applause over its BOOM feels like they are shaking the earth.

Twilight beams at the sight of seeing the joy on the foalings' faces, and she sets off another set of fireworks that turn into a swarm of sparkling butterflies that the little kids chase around, squealing happily and trying to catch them.

While the kids are busy catching the magical sparks, Twilight uses her handy levitation to set up more fireworks that the adults will like, and as she does this, she looks over the heads of the guests to see Granny Smith telling a story to a group of children from the comfort of a chair. From the looks of it, the kids are greatly interested in the story with various expressions of anticipation, fear, and, in the case of a black coated, red maned child, a morbidly evil grin suggesting he's hoping for some death.

Twilight purposefully slows her pace of setting up the fireworks so she can hear the story with a little help of a volume amplifier spell just for her to hear what normal ponies cannot.

“So, there I was, at the mercy of three Ursa Minors,” says Granny Smith, her voice low and tense. “Bound and nowhere to go with my earth pony friends, we could only listen to the three monsters argue amongst themselves of how best to eat us. One wanted us for stew, another wanted to squish us into jelly for their horse toast, and the third wanted to eat us raw and squirming!”

All the children gasped, except for the red head, his smile just widened, and Granny Smith shuddered to add to the theatrics.

“But they spent so much time arguing that they did not notice the sun was rising, and when the light touched their skins they-”

“Burst into flames and died!?” interrupts the red head eagerly.

All the kids look at him with grossed out expressions and Granny Smith frowns.

“No. They turned to stone,” she says flatly.

“Oh... That's boring,” grumbles the kid, arms folded across his chest and lips puckered to a pout.

Granny Smith's eyes narrow. “Where are your parents?”

Twilight shakes her head and goes to set off another firework that soars high into the sky and detonates to a mix of yellow, red and orange to make it look like a spinning sun. The adults clap and cheer and Twilight takes a bow before going to set off more of her fireworks.

Not too far off from where Twilight is, Apple Bloom gracefully weaves her way through the crowd of party-goers with a couple of cookies in her hand. Most of the foalings are laughing and having a great time dancing with their special someone, or enjoying a conversation with their friends and family at a table full of food and drinks, and a majority of the mares are wearing a dress of some kind while Apple Bloom has yet to get out of her afternoon outfit. This is mostly because she finds it more comfortable, but also if something should spill or someone puke on her, it will be a rugged outfit with more color instead of a nice dress.

During her casual walk around the party grounds, Apple Bloom's eyes drift towards one of the many picnic tables and sees that sitting all by her lonesome on a bench is her closest friend, a foaling mare with a cream colored coat and a puffy red mane, named Twist. She has is gangly build, an unusually round muzzle, and is wearing a simple blue dress faded with age and a thick rimmed pair of blue glasses that make her look bug-eyed.

“Hi, Twist, whatcha doin' sittin' here all alone for?” asks Apple Bloom playfully as she slides to a spot next to the lonely mare and placing the cookies between them.

“I don't feel like socializing,” says Twist, her voice slurred by the horrible lisp she has had since she could speak.

“What! Twist, its my granny's birthday! Lighten up! Have a cookie! Dance with somepony!”

Twist shakes her head and goes back to looking at the party with her thumbs wrestling each other, and at first Apple Bloom doesn't think anything of it. But a realization comes to her when she notices that Twist has yet to look away from a certain table of foaling stallions for an extended period of time. A couple of seconds later, and she sees who her socially awkward friend is eyeballing, and that would be the renowned chef, Truffle Shuffle.

Most would not consider looking at him in the dreamy way that Twist is because of his portly build and the fact that various ingredients are always covering his messy, dark gray mane and light gray coat, even though he is constantly wearing an apron over his handmade chef's outfit. He's a nice fellow, but the most any conversations go with him is about his food and the occasional talk about weather and his mother.

“Go on, Twist, ask Truffle to dance,” encourages Apple Bloom, playfully pushing against Twist's shoulder to get her to move.

“No way, Bloom,” says Twist, her hands gripping the table and seat like the idea itself is hazardous. “I'm not asking him to dance. Besides, it's supposed to be the colt asking the filly, not the filly asking the colt.”

Apple Bloom grins deviously. “You know what, yer right! I'll be right back.”

“Wait? What are you-”

Before Twist can finish her sentence, Apple Bloom hops off of her seat and weaves her way through the crowd to where Truffle is sitting. He is in the company of two more stallion foalings; one is small, even by their species's standards, and has a white coat with a brown spot around his right eye and he has yet to change from his seafaring outfit; he is appropriately named Pipsqueak. The second has a greenish-brown coat with a brown mane that has a light brown stripe through it, also wearing a seafaring outfit; he is named Button Mash.

The three are casually conversing amongst themselves when Apple Bloom comes by, and she coolly slides next to Truffle with her head resting on her hand and her eyes wide in feigned interest.

“...And then she started making a big fuss about coming here to sell somepony her horse,” complains Pipsqueak.

“A really big fuss,” adds Button Mash.

“But she did give us a big bag of gold to make the trip quick, so it was worth it.”

Truffle and Apple Bloom blink, but none of the three stallions have yet to notice the mare at their table.

“That's... interesting,” says Truffle slowly.

“I'll say,” says Apple Bloom.

Truffle jumps in his seat and all three stallions look at her with their own mixed expressions of confusion of how they missed her taking a seat and joy that a mare is actually sitting with them.

“Oh, hey, Apple Bloom, what brings you to our table?” asks Pipsqueak nervously.

Apple Bloom shrugs. “Nothing much. I just wanted to say somethin' to Truffle, right quick.” She hooks her arm around Truffle's shoulder and turns him so that he can see Twist, who looks like she is about to die from an embarrassment induced asthma attack. “My friend, Twist, has been looking at you all night but is just too shy to come up and say hi. So, I'm doing it for her. I think she wants ta dance with ya, too.”

Truffle looks at Apple Bloom questionably, then at Twist, then back at Apple Bloom.

“Her?” asks Truffle, his thumb aimed at Twist.

Apple Bloom grins. “Eeyup.”

Truffle and Apple Bloom look at Twist again, and this time she looks away, face red as a fresh apple, and the portly stallion beams, licks his hand, runs his fingers through his mane and then goes towards the shy mare with the pride of a peacock.

Apple Bloom chuckles when Truffle offers his hand to Twist. At first Twist shrinks away and stares at the hand as though it is a poisonous snake, but eventually she does extend her hand and is taken to the dance ring where they quickly disappear into the spinning crowd of happy couples. A swell of pride and joy goes through Apple Bloom's heart and bullies its way to her throat to the point where she can cheer and clap for her friend as she watches the two dance in circles in the crowd.

Seeing this heartwarming scene lights a candle in Button's brain, and he grins confidently and leaves the table to approach a group of mares enjoying themselves at a nearby social circle. He comes back seconds later with a red mark on his cheek and he falls in his seat like he is made out of stone. Then he proceeds to slam his face on the table and whine into the wood.

While this happens, Pipsqueak nervously looks at Apple Bloom with his pointer fingers being pushed together.

“So, are you single?” asks Pipsqueak.

“Yep, but I'm not interested in being courted,” says Apple Bloom casually, leaving the foaling midget to sigh in disappointment with drooped ears and shoulders.

In the shadows of a tent storing dozens of barrels of cider, Scootaloo peeks from under the cloth to spy on Twilight. The unicorn is grabbing another large bundle of fireworks with her hands and magic, and once she has her fill, she skips off, giggling to herself and leaving Spike bored out of his skull from yet another miserable task of cart duty. He snorts when Twilight is out of sight and resumes carving a prancing pony from a solid chunk of wood using careful cuts with a knife and touch ups with his claws.

“Twilight just grabbed a whole bunch of fireworks,” whispers Scootaloo.

Not far behind her, keeping watch from the tent entrance, is Sweetie Belle. She hears the cheers greeting Twilight when she rounds the corner, and once she is confident that the town celebrity will be busy for a long time, she turns to Scootaloo.

“How's the cart?” she asks.

“Spike is stuck with cart duty,” replies Scootaloo.

Sweetie Belle gets a devious smile and rubs her hands together. “Excellent!”

Scootaloo also gets a mischievous smile and jogs up to her partner in crime. Once next to each other, they do a quick nod, stuff their hands in their trouser pockets and walk out of the tent loudly whistling a cheerful tune. They round the corner, still whistling, and when Spike pauses from his carving and looks up, he groans and hunches over in his seat like their very presence makes him ill.

“Oh, no. Not you two,” complains Spike.

A sweet smile spreads across Sweetie Belle's faces as she leans against the cart with one hand on her hip, her free arm resting casually on Spike's thigh and her tail flicking playfully. Spike scrutinizes the unicorn foaling with extreme prejudice, and he looks at Scootaloo when she takes the other side and gives a not as sweet but still kind of cute smile of her own. Needless to say, their actions make Spike visibly uncomfortable.

“Why are you so grumpy, Spike? Aren't you glad to see us?” asks Sweetie Belle with a deceptively loving voice.

“Yeah, I thought we were friends,” adds Scootaloo.

“Talking to you this afternoon does not make us friends. I was just bored and you two came over, but I have explicit instructions to keep you two away from this cart. Besides, I still haven't forgotten what you did to me and Twilight with all that jelly last time we were here,” says Spike sourly.

“You make it sound like the jelly incident was horrible.”

Spike snorts a burst of flame tinted smoke. “Go away, both of you, before I burn your manes off.”

“But we just wanted check up on you since you looked lonely guarding the cart,” says Sweetie Belle.

“No. You just want to distract me so you can run off with some fireworks.”

“Well, that, too,”admits Scootaloo, “but we just want a little firework that we can play with. You know, one of those no harm, no foul things?”

Spike frowns at Scootaloo, then he looks at Sweetie Belle when she pulls out a good sized bag from her pocket and holds it on the palm of her hand, still holding that conniving smile of hers.

“Besides, I got a little gift for you. We figured you deserved something nice since Twilight works you so hard, so have some free money that you can spoil yourself with for the night,” says Sweetie Belle shadily as she holds up a bag of gold coins, being sure to shake them so Spike can hear the coins bouncing around inside.

And hear he does! His eyes widen and a giddy smile spreads across his face as he holds out his cupped hands, giggling like a greedy maniac when the bag is dropped into them.

“I do like nice things,” says Spike with a lick of his lips.

“Then go to town! We'll watch the cart for you!” encourages Scootaloo.

And with that, the she smacks Spike on the back and the drake takes off, leaving a trail of kicked up grass in his wake. Once Spike rounds the corner, almost falling in the process, the two foalings high-five.

“He's way too easy,” snickers Scootaloo.

“Yeah, but we better hurry before Twilight figures out we're here,” says Sweetie Belle.

Scootaloo nods and clambers on to the cart with some help from Sweetie Belle and starts rummaging through the colorful tubes of fireworks.

“Get something big,” says Sweetie Belle urgently.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” says Scootaloo. Seconds later, she shows Sweetie Belle a firework that looks like a wand with a light blue five point star and a blue handle. “How about this one?”

Sweetie Belle shakes her head. “No, that looks stupid. We need something big!”

Scootaloo rolls her eyes and halfheartedly tosses it back on the pile before restarting her search. Once again, only a few more seconds passes before she finds another one. With a massive grin spelling pure discord, she uses both of her hands to hold up a long, thick dragon-like firework that is colored red and yellow with a head designed to look spiky as well as sharp spines running down the back and two curled wings on its sides.

Sweetie Belle gasps with stars in her eyes and hands clutched together in front of her chest as she bounces up and down. “Scootaloo, that is cool! Take that one! Take that one!”

Scootaloo throws it at Sweetie Belle, and in turn she snatches it out of the air and makes for a clearing barely thirty feet from the cart. It is an open space, has a good distance from everything and is not covered by a tent, so it seems to her that that spot is perfect to launch the beast of a firework.

Scootaloo runs behind Sweetie Belle and pulls out a pair of striking stones from her pocket while her unicorn friend sticks the dragon firework in the ground. Once it is up with no aide from her hands, Sweetie Belle steps away and motions Scootaloo to light it.

“After you, Ms. Scootaloo Doo,” she says, making a mockery of snobs with her fake accent.

“Thank you, Ms. Sweetie Belle,” says Scootaloo with a small bow and a smile.

She then kneels down, strikes a flame on the fuse and watches the sparks travel up the white piece of thread, painfully taunting them as it inches towards its destination. Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo are both unified in the idea of seeing what kind of joys and wonders the dragon firework will bring. The ideas are so monumentally great that their hearts feel like they are about to burst from their very mouths and take off into the night with the wings of fun.

Then the firework starts tilting and all the good feelings are brutally butchered on the spot, and Scootaloo runs towards it and tries to hold it steady while giving Sweetie Belle a dark look.

“You were supposed to put it in the ground!” yells Scootaloo.

She pushes it towards Sweetie Belle, and she almost misses it, but once catching it, she returns Scootaloo's hostile look in kind.

“It was in the ground!” sneers Sweetie Belle.

She pushes it back to Scootaloo.

“Well, it's not in the ground, now!” says Scootaloo angrily.

Scootaloo pushes it back to Sweetie Belle.

“So, why don't you put it in the ground!” whines Sweetie Belle, her voice getting an embarrassing crack right in the middle of the sentence.

“It doesn't take a genius to put a stick in the ground! Just shove it in!” shouts Scootaloo.

And she pushes the firework towards Sweetie Belle again, but right as she grabs its paper-mache hide, the firework launches and drags Sweetie Belle a good fifteen feet before she falls off, and it hits Twilight's cart of fireworks like the missile of colorful fun it is.

There is a blinding flash of light with a sonic boom that blows away all the grass, and a mushroom cloud of every bright color known to the world looms over the tents, with more fireworks streaking out to detonate into the night sky. Twisters, sparklers, whirly bobs, missile fireworks, poppers, every firework of every nature launches into the sky to bring day back to the night with their trails of obnoxiously bright colors that burst into a dozen more colors.

The cheers and applause of he townsfolk can barely be heard through all the explosive pops and whistles, and to finish off, a single light blue dot torpedoes straight up into the sky, leaving a trail of sparkling, silver exhaust. Once it reaches its apex, the blue dot detonates to bring an azure sun to the town of Greenhill Pastures, for making up its ridiculously massive size is a colored outline side view of an azure colored unicorn mare's face, eye closed and a broad, smug grin with a curly, silver mane. Surrounding the perfect display of ego are sparkling stars that twirl away, and underneath the smug face, written in bold, silver letters for all to see is: TRIXIE WAS HERE.

Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo have been lying on their back, covered in a thin layer of soot with smoke rising off of them, panting and grinning ear to ear at the spectacle, but once Trixie's face fades from existence, they sit up to have a look at the damage.

For one, the cart has gone to cart heaven, for all that remains is a smoldering circle of charred grass and dirt with burnt splinters around it. Secondly, the field is littered with firework snakes, with most being fully uncurled and crumbling on the ground like burnt mummies and the rest still growing from the small flames that cover them. And thirdly, the tent holding all the cider has collapsed and now the delicious drink has flooded the ground and will more than likely make alcoholic grass. Overall, the destruction fosters no guilt in the two foalings whatsoever, and they are quick to hop to their feet to get a better view of their work.

“That was awesome!” cheers Scootaloo.

“Do you think she has another cart?” says Sweetie Belle, barely able to hold back her laughter.

Then they both nearly scream in pain when the tips of their ears are pinched and twisted, forcing their heads to look up into the eyes of a lavender unicorn that is holding their ears with her finger tips and staring Hell down on them with a large scowl.

“As a matter of fact, I do not,” says Twilight.

At the edge of the party grounds, a good hour later, Twilight is sitting on a chair with one leg draped over the other, casually smoking her pipe as she keeps watch over the three thorns, with Sweetie Belle washing the dishes, Scootaloo drying and Spike stacking. So far they have not made a dent in the fortress of dirty dishes and, not too surprisingly, none of them are in the least bit pleased about their punishment.

“Let's grab some fireworks, you said. It will be fun, you said,” grumbles Scootaloo.

“Okay, I get it!” snaps Sweetie Belle.

“Both of you quiet!” growls Spike.

“All three of you quiet,” orders Twilight, narrowing her eyes challengingly at Spike when he glowers at her, and smiling victoriously when the drake quickly resumes his punishment in silence.

A few minutes later, the guests start begging Granny Smith for a speech with playful chants of: “Speech! Speech! Speech!”

The ruckus can be heard easily from Twilight's chair, and it brings a smile to her face seeing her old friend go up on the stage.

On the stage, Granny Smith mutters a complaint about her ancient bones and carefully slips out a bundle of old, gray cloth from her pocket and holds it behind her back as she makes her final steps. She waves to the crowd with her free hand, being sure to throw in a friendly smile as well, and once on center stage, she is greeted with a great applause and cheers. As much as Granny Smith would love to just leave the party now and never deal with the nuisances called her neighbors again, she figures she will leave with a bang and give the boring town something to talk about for some time.

The crowd is silenced when Granny Smith holds up her hand, and she goes over to a hollowed out cone on a stand that she can speak into. She adjusts its position, cringing slightly when the gears inside squeak, and then she sticks her mouth up against it and clears her throat. Everyone hears it and chuckles, but the old mare thinks a good majority of those chuckles are forced. Not that she cares much, anyway.

“Pleasant night, eh, everypony?” begins Granny Smith, her voice easily being carried across the field.

The crowd voices their agreements with varying levels of excitement, and Grammy Smith smiles again and points to the back of the party grounds where the bane of her existence sit.

“Before I do anything, I'd like to thank Filthy for financing this great party,” says Granny Smith.

“Just Rich!” yells Filthy Rich in the distance.

The crowd laughs and Granny Smith dismisses him with a wave of her hand. “Bah, like I care, ya old scrooge. At least none of you should care about going bankrupt for those little tickets because today is my one hundred and twentieth birthday!”

The crowd shouts in unison: “Happy Birthday!”

Granny Smith chuckles and holds up her hand again to stop them before they get any bright ideas to make more obnoxious claps or cheers.

“But, even one hundred and twenty years is far too short of a time to live among kind folks such as yourselves,” says Granny Smith, her bright tone faltering noticeably. “I have been blessed with many great memories of this town, but... but I'm not going to make this longer than I have to. I'm afraid that this is the end.”

The crowd stares at Granny Smith, confused by her words, and voicing their concern in murmurs to one another. As the crowd tries to figure out what she means, Granny Smith places her other hand behind her back and carefully unwraps an amulet and keeps it in a good grip.

Granny Smith takes a breath. “I have things to do... And.... And I must leave... Goodbye.”

Then she squeezes her eyes shut, grips the amulet as hard as she can and completely disappears before everyone's eyes.

Twilight furrows her brow and refuses to take her eyes off of the scene of Granny Smith's disappearance while the patrons run in frantic patterns, clamoring and desperate to find the birthday mare. Spike, Sweetie Belle, and Scootaloo are also staring at the scene, but their jaws are to the ground and their eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets.

While mass hysteria grips the locals, Twilight puts out the flame in her pipe, tucks it back in its respective pouch and stands up with her hands balled into fists.

“Spike, get another horse,” orders Twilight.

Near the entrance of Granny Smith's house, faint footsteps can be heard on the dirt path, and the simple gate looks to open and close with a squeak and bang by its lonesome to a normal set of eyes. The quiet steps then go up the path leading to the house, and the door is unlocked, barely pushed open and then shut.

After the door is shut and shielded in the safety of her own home, Granny Smith loosens her grip on the amulet and reappears, perfectly fine and laughing to herself. She marvels at the amulet for the briefest of moments before she re-wraps it and stuffs it back in her pocket, and after that she blindly searches for the gear she packed before the party. She doesn't want to turn on any lights because she does not want anyone to be drawn to her home, and the last thing she needs is her big escape spoiled by wandering eyes.

But her escape is spoiled, anyway.

The window shutters slam shut, and the fireplace near her and all the candles on the chandelier erupt to light up the room and reveal Twilight standing behind Granny Smith with her arms folded across her chest.

“So, was that what you have been hiding from me all night?” asks Twilight.

Granny Smith yells and turns with her hand clutching her heart and her eyes wide as her large breaths of air fill the room. When she calms down enough to regain motor control, the old mare huffs and shakes loose whatever nerves remain before stomping towards her office.

“I don't know what you are talking about,” says Granny Smith irritably, her hand skimming over her cluttered desk for search of her precious map. “And you and I both know that it is rude to scare us elders like that.”

“Purity, if there is one thing we both know, it is that you are a terrible liar,” says Twilight heavily.

Granny Smith finds her map and hastily rolls it up, purposefully avoiding eye contact with Twilight. “I know that, but I haven't been hiding anything from you.”

“Really? Then can you explain how a simple earth foaling like yourself was able to turn invisible without the use of magical amulets?”

Granny Smith freezes with her hand outstretched towards her walking stick. Her hand then curls into a fist and a low growl escapes her throat as she quivers in her spot.

“It was just a bit of fun, but you're ruining what joy I got from it,” growls Granny Smith, turning to face Twilight.

“I want to see that amulet, Purity.”

“I don't have any amulets.”

“I know you have an amulet. I can feel its magic, and you are using it lightly when you should not be.”

“I don't have anything!”

“ENOUGH!”

A burst of flames erupt from underneath Twilight's feet and from her mane and balled fists, and Granny Smith falls back, stammering and pushing herself against the wall with her feet as she holds one hand up defensively. The flames from Twilight heat up the room like a furnace, singe everything around her and reflect off of the old mare's eyes.

“I can feel its presence, Purity! Let me see it, now!” orders Twilight furiously.

Granny Smith gulps and removes the wad of cloth from her pocket, then she slowly unravels it to show the amulet she used to flee the party. It is holds the exact same design from the drawing in her book. The arrowhead, unicorn head, and the wings are made of polished onyx, ruby stones are engraved on the edges of its wings and its eye, and a larger, blood red, four point diamond is in the center of the arrowhead.

The body flames go out and Twilight stiffens seeing that, and with the cloth removed, she can feel a new strength in magic radiate from it. It has a pull that she cannot easily fight against. It is calling her, begging her to grab it. Never before has she felt anything like what the amulet in Granny Smith's hand is giving off. If she had not known any better, she would believe that the Gothic jewelery has a soul. Which she knows that soul bonding is not only taboo, but nearly impossible to perform. However, it does not stop her from wanting to get a closer look at it.

Twilight swallows and gradually extends her hand towards the small amulet. The closer she gets to it, the more she finds herself desiring it. Her heart becomes heavy with the thought of holding it; she can see her reflection in the diamond as if it is her very own mirror. It is Gothic, but beautiful, and the closer her fingers come to it, the stronger its pull is and the quieter everything becomes. It is just her and the amulet, and when she is close to touching it, all she hears is her the beats of her heart and a low whisper. Then she brushes the onyx base and-

“Twilight!”

There is a flash of a red slit-like iris surrounded by green flames with the raspy scream, and Twilight retracts her hand instantly and balls it to a fist towards her chest as she back away, pale and shaking. Her head is now thumping and she can feel the malice from the amulet resonating like heat from the sun.

The unicorn stumbles back and barely grabs the rocking chair in time to sit on as she literally falls on it with her eyes staring at the hardwood floor and body shaking from pain. Granny Smith takes a step forward, and with it, the pain in her head becomes more intense, like a pair of clawed hands trying to crush her skull. It brings tears to her eyes and she has to hold up her hand to get the old mare to stop. Much to Twilight's relief, she complies and actually takes a couple of steps back.

“Twilight, are you okay?” asks Granny Smith.

“That amulet... where did you get it?” says Twilight quietly as she tenderly rubs her head to get rid of the discomfort.

“I found it in the Diamond Dog Caves on our trip to Lookout Mountain,” says Granny Smith, now carefully re-wrapping the Amulet like it is a naked baby.

Once the amulet is fully covered, most of the hostile residue disappears, but the painful effects remain. Twilight is grateful that it is covered, though, since the pain is slowly eroding to a numb sensation now that the main source is blocked.

“I am guessing you're leaving for Armonia, then,” says Twilight, wiping tears from her eyes and sniffling.

Granny Smith hesitates. “Yes.”

“Then leave the amulet here with Apple Bloom. She'll take care of it for you while you're away.”

Granny Smith frowns. “But I'm not coming back.”

Twilight glances at Granny Smith out of the corner of her eye, hand still rubbing her temple. “Leave it here, nonetheless. It will give her something to remember you by.”

Granny Smith sighs and looks at the amulet with great sadness. “Yes, I suppose I should leave something for her since she had no idea I was doing this. Actually, why not some dishes, instead? I've got a nice set that has been in the Smith family ever since my Great Uncle Cabbage Patch bought them at half price from Old McMuffin.”

Twilight stops rubbing her head and puts her full attention to Granny Smith, watching with a mixed flare of annoyance, pity and curiosity as the old mare goes around the house, looking for something to give to Apple Bloom without releasing her grip from the bundled Gothic jewelery.

“You didn't tell Apple Bloom you were leaving?” questions Twilight.

Granny Smith is by the fireplace now, inspecting an old, rusted poker with great interest, and she is in the middle of offering it as a gift to Apple Bloom when Twilight asks her the question. Hearing that, she stops and sighs heavily with a great sulk in her shoulders, and she drops the poker back in its slot.

“I've been meaning to, but I couldn't bear to see her broken,” replies Granny Smith.

“Meaning you didn't want to see her sad so you decided to leave under the cover of darkness in an elaborate hoax?” says Twilight with an arched brow.

“When you put it like that you make it sound cruel.”

“It is cruel.”

Granny Smith holds up a finger and is about to speak words of defense against Twilight's claim, but she comes up empty and sighs as her arm drops to her side in defeat.

“You're probably right...” she says glumly. “No, you're right. You're always right. But what's done is done. As far as she knows, I'm gone without a goodbye and I can only hope that she will forgive me... You will keep an eye on Apple Bloom for me, right?”

Twilight nods. “I'll keep both eyes on her as often as I can, and Spike will be helping, too, so you'll have nothing to fear.”

Granny Smith nods, gives her thanks, and after grabbing her walking stick she starts towards the door, but halts all movement when Twilight clears her throat. Sighing, the old mare looks at Twilight, who is approaching her with careful steps.

“You still need to leave that amulet behind,” says Twilight sternly.

Granny Smith's expression hardens with her tightening grip. “But I don't want to leave it! Its mine! I found it! It belongs to me!”

“Are you so caught up in your own possessions that you would rather give your surrogate daughter a fire poker than a beautiful piece of jewelery?”

“...No. But...”

Granny Smith trails off and her hardened eyes soften like a pathetic puppy as she unwraps her prized jewel to look at the polished onyx and beautiful red stones. Twilight kneels down in front of Granny Smith, ignoring the negative energy to the best of her abilities, and takes her shoulders in her hands and looks into the eyes of the old mare, a look of worry now dominating her expression. Granny Smith spares only a second to look at Twilight's face before she goes back to the amulet. She begins rubbing the red diamond with a soft touch, and Twilight's hands move up and down her shoulders in gentle motions as she tilts her head so she can get some eye contact with the old foaling.

“Purity, I am begging you, leave the amulet behind. Give it to Apple Bloom. Let her care for it in remembrance of you,” says Twilight.

Granny Smith looks up at Twilight, eyes watering and a lump going up and down her throat. Her hands tremble as she rewraps the amulet and presses it against her chest. When tears start rolling down her face, Twilight hugs Granny Smith close to her and closes her eyes as she rubs the smaller mare's grayed mane.

“I'm begging you, Purity. Trust me as you once did. Let it go,” says Twilight softly.

There is a heavy moment of silence where neither say a word to each other. All Twilight can do is silently beg for her longtime friend to release the amulet, and Granny Smith's functions have been reduced to pathetic whimpers.

“Okay... The amulet will go to Apple Bloom,” sniffles Granny Smith seconds later, reluctantly pulling away from Twilight and forcing a toothless smile, but the smile only makes the hurt in her all the more visible.

Twilight steps away from Granny Smith and stands as high as she can, watching carefully as the old foaling looks at the amulet.

Granny Smith swallows and slowly extends her hand, the look of unrelenting desire to keep it overwhelming the sadness as her jaw tightens and her brows scrunch. Her hand trembles and a small whine escapes her lips as she stares at her prized possession. It crosses Twilight's mind that her friend might not be able to let go, but right as her doubts are about to dictate her actions, the amulet is dropped on a nearby nightstand with a resounding thud.

Granny Smith's hand stays extended and her eyes remain fixated on the amulet for a tense moment before she sighs and goes to grab a prepacked backpack of traveling gear containing cooking utensils, a bedroll, and needed supplies. Twilight smiles with relief and her muscles relax as she watches Granny Smith make last minute adjustments on the backpack's straps.

“I better get out of here before Apple Bloom or anypony else arrives,” mutters Granny Smith, grunting when she gives a strap a hard tug.

Twilight nods and silently follows Granny Smith outside. The warm air and the peaceful scenery of cottages, trees and rolling hills sends comfort to both of them as they stand in the doorway. On a selfish note, Twilight is glad that she can finally stand at full height and get rid of the crick in her back for staying semi-crouched in the small abode, and on a selfless one, she is glad to see the weight off of Granny Smith's shoulders. The elderly mare's stature is taller and more proud, and she seems to have a new life returning to her, complete with a peaceful smile and a glint in her eyes.

“I got a long road ahead of me,” says Granny Smith with anxious excitement. She adjusts her grip on her walking and starts down the pathway with Twilight following close behind her, then with light worry, she adds: “I sure hope Celestia got my letter. I would hate to have walked all the way over to Armonia and have no place to rest.”

Twilight smiles. “I have no doubt that Celestia got your letter. Besides, she will always have a place for travelers and friends.”

Granny Smith stops by the decorative gate and pushes it open after easily undoing the lock. Then she stops, takes a breath and looks both ways down the winding dirt road to determine which path would be best to take. Seconds later, her eyes lock on to the thick forest and she grins and tightens her grip on her walking staff in anticipation of what she will find on the long road ahead.

“Maybe on the way over to Armonia I can think of an ending to my book. Maybe something that those young folks will get a kick out of,” says Granny Smith without looking at Twilight, and a few seconds of silence passes before the old mare sighs heavily and turns to Twilight with her hand extended. “Well, I guess this is goodbye, Twilight.”

Twilight offers a warm smile as she kneels down and takes Granny Smith's hand with both of hers. “For now, Purity. Stay safe.”

Granny Smith nods. “Will do, Twilight... Goodbye.”

“Goodbye.”

Twilight loosened her grip on Granny Smith's hand, and the old mare slid it out and started walking down the winding dirt road, humming a song to herself. Even though Granny Smith's back remains to Twilight, she still waves goodbye to her and continues watching her until she disappears from view. Then, and only then, does she return to the humble abode.

Once inside, Twilight closes the door with a silent click and stares at the wrapped piece of jewelery on the nightstand. She can still feel the negative energy coming off of it, but she finds it peculiar that the effects are greatly deluded with a simple piece of cloth. Knowing what pain will come from attempting to grab it with her bare hands, Twilight tries to levitate the amulet, but as soon as the magic from her horn wraps around the cloth, the same eye returns in a flash with the crippling headache, causing her to drop it like a hot piece of metal and stumble back again with her hand tenderly rubbing her head.

Twilight hobbles over to a rocking chair by the fireplace and eases herself down. Once as comfortable as she can get, she closes her eyes and tries to calm her racing heart with steady breaths. When that doesn't work, she reaches for her pipe and tries to light it with a match, but the intensity of her shaking makes the normally brainless task difficult. After she manages to light her pipe with a lot of trouble, she carelessly drops the spent match on the floor and stomps on it, then she stares at the wrapped amulet with widened eyes and fingers drumming against the arm of the rocking chair.

An indefinite amount of time passes, and Twilight has yet to move from the chair, much less break eye contact the amulet or take her mind off of trying to figure out what the reoccurring eye is. She has a feeling she knows what it is, but she wants to deny it with every bone in her body. It is a truth that she does not want to accept, and will refuse to accept until she gets proper, overwhelming evidence.

Twilight is so far into her thoughts and the fear they are swimming in that she does not register the door opening, and her ear barely moves when Apple Bloom and Spike run in, calling for her and Granny Smith. She only snaps out of her thoughts when Spike runs over to her in his semi-crouched state and grabs her shoulders.

“Twilight, are you okay?” asks Spike worryingly.

Twilight looks at Spike, pupils shaking. “I'm fine,” she says in a hoarse whisper.

Spike kneels down and grabs her pipe off the floor, which Twilight had failed to notice she dropped in the first place, and she graciously grabs it when her number one assistant hands it to her.

“You don't look fine. You're pale and shaking,” says Spike.

“Twilight, have you seen Granny?” asks Apple Bloom as she runs in the room, out of breath and sweating.

Twilight swallows and forces herself to look at Apple Bloom. “She has gone to stay with the alicorns at Armonia.” She points at the wrapped amulet with a small smile. “She left that for you.”

Apple Bloom looks over her shoulder at the item, then back at Twilight. She only goes to grab it when Twilight nods, and once Apple Bloom is out of the room, she stands up as much as the small home will allow her to.

“Do you have the horses?” asks Twilight.

“Yours plus a new one, like you said. I actually got it for only three gold bits from some pink earth pony hanging out by the bar,” says Spike, pride seeping in to the second part of his statement.

“That horse better be good. We got a long way to ride and not much time to do it.”

“Relax. I checked the horse. She took really good care of it.”

Twilight nods and goes to the doorway, where Apple Bloom is standing and carefully unwrapping the amulet. With it uncovered, the headache returns to Twilight, but oddly enough, it is more of a weak pain instead of the kind that brought tears to her eyes. This only serves to add questions to her list and makes her more uncomfortable about the power and origins of the amulet.

Spike is the first to leave and Twilight stops to put her hand on Apple Bloom's shoulder, bringing the foaling out of her careful observations of Granny Smith's gift.

“Apple Bloom, I'm sorry to leave you like this, but I must be off to Canterlot for some research,” says Twilight.

Apple Bloom's jaw drops and tears pool in her eyes as her whole body droops and her grip tightens on the amulet.

“But you just got here! Couldn't you stay a bit longer?” says Apple Bloom.

“I'm sorry, but I have to go. It is urgent.”

“But Granny already left without saying goodbye! Don't leave me, too!”

“Apple Bloom, I have to go! There are lots of questions that need answers and the longer I stay the less time I will have to find them!”

Apple Bloom stares at Twilight, with the hurt from the unicorn's snapping made plain by the wetness in her eyes and her increased sulking demeanor. Seeing this brings guilt to Twilight, but she knows she can't stay and needs to find answers, even if they are ones she does not want.

“I'm sorry I have to leave you like this, Apple Bloom, but I can't stay, and you must keep that amulet a secret from everypony. Especially from Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle,” says Twilight, putting an authoritative amount of emphasis on the part regarding the local troublemakers. After Apple Bloom nods her head quick enough to have her bow nearly fall off, Twilight once again finds herself hugging a foaling with her eyes closed, except unlike the one for Granny Smith, this one is tight and she is doing it to keep herself calm more than anything else. “I'll be back as soon as I can. I promise.”

Apple Bloom nods once more, completely lost for words, and Twilight pulls away and nearly runs down the path and leaps on the horse that once pulled her cart. The horse protests with a whine, but once Twilight kicks its side, it rears up with a whinny and takes off on a full gallop down the road, in the opposite direction of Granny Smith's path, with Spike following close behind on his horse.

From the doorway they left her in, Apple Bloom watches the dual trails of barely noticeable dust clouds that her friends kick up, and she watches them until they disappear around the bend. Once they are gone from her sight, she looks down the hill to see the torches scurrying about in search of their beloved citizen. None of the torches are close, and after watching the distant, flickering lights for a few seconds the young mare looks at the bundled cloth that the amulet is hidden in, clutches it tighter and goes back inside with her head down and tears sliding down her cheeks.