Lyra leaned over her counter with a crazed grin. “Come on, hot stuff," she said with a mischievous look. "Tell me what you really want.”

Giggles bubbled up from the rest of the line as the mortified customer blushed. With an affronted lowering of her head, Cloud Kicker stepped closer to the lunch counter. “One apple dog, extra salsa.”

Shaking her head, Lyra turned to the back of the food shack. “Screwy, one Exploded AJ!” Pleasant smells wafted out of the grill as it turned assorted vegetables into batter-fried hot dogs. Near the improvised grill a mane of curly purple hair bobbed up and down under a chef’s hat. Nodding back, the zealous cashiermare turned back to her customer. “Now that we’ve dealt with that, Kicky, let’s catch up on old times." The merry musician raised her eyebrows suggestively. “Are you ready to tell me what you really want at last?”

The upset patron sputtered meaningless phrases until a pinkish hoof held out a steaming tofu dog in front of her face. Quickly throwing out bits onto the counter, the prideful flyer walked off in a huff. Lyra shook her head, calling after the fellow Ponyville resident. “Come back if you need dessert, Kicky!”

As the contented unicorn turned to her chef, Screwball gave her a curious stare. The slumming noble merely smiled. “Don’t worry about it, Screwy. As you would say, she’s just an old friend.” Lyra gave a last look to the retreating gray flank before shaking the memories out of her head. “How’re we doing on the cash side, Screwbellina.”

Two spiraling eyes lit up as their owner flipped the cash drawer into the air. Two pink blurs spun through the cloud of coins, arranging them into piles. With a final clink, the chaotic chef grinned as she presented seventeen stacks of bits, sorted into denominations.

Silence filled the hot dog stand. Lyra stared incredulously at the organized piles. She squinted at the beaming money-juggler. “Girl, what exactly does that cutie mark stand for?”

The young filly shrugged, looking away. The older mare looked hard into the two spinning pupilless eyes, trying to identify the emotions in the suddenly pensive young pony. She’s constantly worried people will hate her for who she can’t help being, Lyra thought wryly. Gee, I wonder who that reminds me of?

The contemplative moment was broken by Quest walking into the stall. “There’s some line out there. Does a certain knight of Foamrider need any help?” The white-coated gamer walked over to his favorite player, concern welling in his eyes.

Lyra noticed the younger filly’s eyes spin a little faster at the sound of Quest’s voice. Still taking orders, the harpsichord-player-turned-hot-dog-vendor relaxed a bit. Maybe some time with her geeky coltfriend will put her at ease. Speaking of weird colts…

“Hey, Talltale.” The young earth pony nervously adjusted his glasses as he stared into a toothy smile. “Have you seen Cheerilee or Red anywhere?”

The unsettled student shook his head. “I heard there was an argument over by the cultural fair. She might have gone over there.”

Nodding, the minty matchmaker hatched a plan. “Well, why don’t you give me a hand here while Screwy takes a look for those two. They could probably use some lunch, and then you and Screwy can take over flinging hay bacon strips.”

The beanie-topped filly saluted, giving a last nervous smile to her fellow student as she walked out. Quest’s vision lingered on her until he found his head rotated forcefully into Lyra’s vision.

“Okay lover boy, we have customers to serve, dogs to sling and some serious stuff to talk about regarding your intentions toward Miss Screwball. Any questions?”

Quest swallowed hard as he stared into orange eyes that promised doom. “Um, I only have one, Miss. What’s a hand?”

The exasperated unicorn deflated.

While Lyra was dealing with the vocabulary of fandom, her best friend was surrounded by clouds of dust and dread. The illumination of the mining hats was able to overcome the kicked up debris, but the trapped ponies still felt an oppressive fear.

Cheerilee broke the silence first. “We can’t be trapped here. We saw Dangerfield outside. Surely he would be able to go for help?”

Hardpick was clearing a pile of discarded cider bottles to make himself a place to sit. He gave a humorless smirk to his son’s schoolmare. “I’m ‘fraid not, Ma’am. Most likely he’s trapped in here with us too. Any shake big enough to get us most likely would have hit the opening too.” He kicked a bottle into the flowing current. “Even if he could get out, there isn’t enough equipment in the town to clear a path here in time.”

Red dragged the contemplative miner onto his hooves. “Come on, Hardpick! My dad built the safety mechanisms in this tunnel. One of them has to have worked. The shiny one? Spiky one? That thing that goes ‘ting’?”

A small cloud exploded from the cave wall as something damaged the side of the cave-in. The four hopeful ponies stared with hope at the small puff. After a moment with no further activity, a loud metallic ‘ting’ could be heard. Placeholder nodded, and sat down on the shore of the river.

Sluice’s father smiled wanly. “Maybe if so much of the shaft hadn’t collapsed, Jury Rig would be the hero of the day. This just shows that your ma was right all along. You’re not leaving this mine alive.”

Hardpick and Red squinted as a mining helmet atop a white-and-pink mane interrupted their words. Angry tears ran down fuchsia cheeks into a smile born of rage and frustration.

”Gentlecolts,” the motivated mare said with finality. “We are going to get out of here. I have a plan.”

The complicated play of social events echoed throughout the festival. A beanie-crowned poofy-haired paradox walked with trepidation through the throng of ponydom. She instinctively avoided large crowds, searching the empty areas of the fair. As time passed, the unique teen found herself surrounded by ponies in the crowded Culture Festival.

Screwball nearly trampled a surprised mother as she leapt out of the way of a pony. The unsettled chaosspawn gave a nervous and terrifying smile that sent the family running for the hills. The lonely student merely nodded, adjusting her beanie. Lifting her shoulders resolutely, she prepared to follow her every instinct and check the back of the school dumpsters.

nO. nOt goOd.

A terrified student in the lemonade stand suddenly dropped a tray of drinks. He stared in shock at the sign of a geekily-dressed girl slamming her front hoof into her forehead. The strange filly’s eyes were crossed with concentration, red liquid running down her cheeks.

Me aM RigHT. TURNAROUND. ME aM NOT RigHT. Not THiNk gOOD. MEnotmenotme I have to think carefulLY.

The inner struggle raged for uncounted seconds as the trembling teen closed her eyes and thought harder than she ever had. Her mind trembled as it lassoed two mental rivers and tried to merge them. A lone pony in the growing crowd voiced his worries.

“Excuse me, my little pony. Are you all right?”

Screwball was shivering, crimson trickles falling out of her nose. Suddenly her eyelids cracked open, startling the concerned onlookers. The worried pony that had previously approached her drew in his breath at the sight of an intense scarlet stare, burst blood vessels visible in the previously spinning eyes. Two parallel mental rivers had impossibly been forced to cross each other in her mind. A shaky grin showed triumph.

“Honestly,” she said, coughing a multicolored glob onto the sidewalk, “I think I’ve never felt better. Pardon me please, I’m thinking.”

His startled gasp stretched out for several seconds as time slowed down to her perception. The thrill of observing things clearly was as wonderfully new as the piercing pain in the side of her head was excruciating. As time seemed to slow to a crawl, the struggling filly looked and listened to the chaos around her. The sounds and sights mixed together, her reeling mind hammered them into order.

“I was so glad when Sluice’s dad went off!”

“Honey, we should have Hardpick over tonight. Otherwise he’ll just end up drinking in a mineshaft again.”

“I’m…never eating cotton candy again... ever.”

“I saw that teacher with the nice rump go after that screaming guy. Man, that scruffy stallion’s lucky.”

“Nah, that dust cloud weren’t no rocket hit. The mines had a rumble. Guess it’s good we’re all here, thank Celestia.”

Misshapen puzzle blocks clicked into place inside her understanding. The terror that seized her quickly carried her to the rocket garden. The sitting form of Bomber lifted her head as Screwball galloped to her side.

“Heyo, funky filly. I’ve got a wee bit of work to do on this launcher. Could ye come back later?”

Screwball shook her head. “We’ve got trouble, Bomber. I need help.”

The military brat kept adjusting pipes, only looking at her friend out of the corner of her eye. “Well good on you, Screwy. ‘Me no understand,’ eh? I’ll catch you later.”

Bomber was violently turned sideways to look into two bloody eyes that spun backwards.

“I really mean it. You love your jacket, the sky is blue, and I need everypony’s help or Cheerilee and Red are going to die.”

“I SAID TO PULL! YOU CAN DO IT!”

Placeholder strained, his horn shedding a bright pink glow. Hardpick and Red struggled to keep the elder stallion supported as he struggled with the stone barrier.

“Miss…Cheerilee,” the principal said through gritted teeth. “I... don’t believe I can budge that stone.”

The relentless cheerleading filly only shook her head as she used her mouth to cap one of the no-longer empty alcohol bottles. A powerful head-butt launched it into the river, where it settled amongst a dozen identical siblings. Her mouth free, two determined green eyes flashed at Placeholder. “You have to,sir! That’s the stone holding the top of the wall back! Just kick logic to the curb and do the impossible!”

The sweating unicorn tensed. “That doesn’t make…much sense.” He smiled. “But I agree with the sentiment.” A blinding rose-colored flash filled the cave as an ear-splitting crack sounded. Suddenly a wave of rocks swept out from the blockage, knocking the stallions onto the ground.

When the dust cleared, Cheerilee looked at the target area with hope. She bounced into the air, grinning madly. “That’s how we roll at Luna’s Academy, sir!”

Hardpick assessed the fruit of their efforts. Nodding, he patted the filly’s shoulder. “Yup, that only made a few larger bricks slide down into position.” He bucked the side of the tunnel in frustration. “I told you it weren’t no use. Great motivational speeches, by the way. Did a lot of good, didn’t they?”

A kicked rock hit his flank hard. Snorting, he turned in its direction to see an angry science teacher quivering in his tattered lab coat.

“It is not her fault we’re trapped her, Mister Bully McUseless! If you had decided to pick a drinking place like a normal pony we’d all still be fine!”

The aggravated miner rounded on Red. Snorting, he decided to play dirty.

"Well, her plan might of worked if she was helping us rather than throwing out bottle messages." A sarcastic grin split his parched lips. "It comforts me great to know someone will come looking for us when they find that bottle in a few years."

Cheerilee’s smile started to crack with rage. Placeholder’s gentle voice interrupted her coming tirade. “Excuse me, everyone. I believe we should avoid working ourselves up.”

The schoolmare stared at him incredulously. “Placeholder, what possible use could calming down be at this time?” The two feuding stallions paused their conflict to see how the new scene would play out.

Placeholder snorted, slightly affronted at the familiarity of his employee. “I say that we should avoid working ourselves up for a perfectly logical reason, Miss.” He flashed an ever-present suffering smile. “We’re running out of oxygen."

“Lyra, Cheerilee’s in trouble.”

The mint musician scrutinized the filly that had pushed her way to the front of the hot dog line. She saw genuine concern and terror in the pleading pink pony. Turning back to the relieved colt working the grill, she offered a magnanimous still. "Well, speak of the draconequus. We were just talking about you, Screwy." Screwy ignored the look of relief on Quest's face as his conversation with Lyra ended.

The hot dog stand's designated adult leaned over the counter to get a better look at the quivering young mare. “This isn’t backwards, is it?” Her voice came out with worry, being more a statement than a question. Her magic picked up a wad of napkins and wiped the red stains off the scared filly’s face. “Man, I hope the other guy looks worse than you do.”

Focused on her fears, Screwball pressed the point. “She’s trapped in the cave-in that just happened up the mountain. She and Red followed Sluice’s father.” As she spoke, Lyra saw one of the spiraling lines of her eyes breach, a dark color spreading out from the rip. “She…she not need me. Not need us.”

With a single nod, the determined food vendor slammed the down the ‘Closed’ sign on her booth. She leapt up onto the counter, sitting fleshy-style to the dismay of onlookers. She waved her hooves dramatically as she settled into the familiar task of addressing her audience.

“Hey, everypony! We got a situation. Two teachers and more are trapped at the mine.”

A murmur of worry and concern passed through the crowd. Miners regarded the faraway peak skeptically as older mares chatted about previous disasters. A doubting voice raised itself from the crowd. “How in Equestria did you hear that? Dangerfield would’ve been down at the first sign of tremors.”

Working the crowd with experience, Lyra hopped down onto her hooves. “One of their kids figured it out.” She inclined her head in Screwball’s direction. “Now, what kind of rescue stuff do you fine folks have lying around?”

Bomber would never forget the following moments for the rest of her life. She always remembered the lesson on how fast the mood of a mob can change. Although she’d argue with Screwy occasionally about the order of events on that dark day, the amateur explosive expert always maintained that things went bad when the mare from Ponyville spoke.

“Where’d you hear that?” asked the meek voice that began the violence.

The out-of-town musician was busy asking for helmets amongst the miners. She gave no time to considering the diplomatic implications when she answered, “Screwball.”

The bustling and worried scene of imminent activity stopped at a high pitched giggle. The familiar timbre of the laughter sent a chill down Lyra’s spine. Oh, not here. Don’t let that be who I think it is.

Attention turned to the polished voice. A lavender-coated blonde was barely containing her laughter. Her wings shook from the effort. An embarrassed teen stood at her side, biting a basket with effort as she tried to make herself vanish.

Two mint hooves lowered a borrowed miner’s hat. “Cloud Kicker, don’t you ruin this,” was what Lyra tried to say. Years of dreading that voice prevented her from getting anything out aside from a simple “Don’t.”

The amused weather mare pointed a hoof at the shaking unicorn. She leaned over to her younger companion. “Dusty, didn’t you say that was the crazy filly in school who always spoke backwards?”

The younger pegasus dropped the basket from her mouth, turning apologetic eyes to the shaking Screwball. “Yes, Auntie.”

A sarcastic grin spread on Cloud Kicker’s face. She turned to her old schoolmate, relishing a chance to step back into an old role. “Lyra, you just got put on.” The crowd around her was starting to relax, sharing in her amusement. Screwball gave a look of confusion to her classmate, who turned her head rather than return it. Feeling on a roll, the weather mare performed for the crowd. “I guess two freaks can get close, huh?”

The physically and emotionally drained pink mare almost stepped forward when Bomber’s hoof restrained her. “Screwy, I know when a fight’s about to start, and there ain’t nothing ye can do to hold this one back.”

A naive hope sounded in a voice destined for disappointed. “But…adults. Adults and fight?”

She suddenly jumped to the side in fear as a snort sounded from the shaking bundle of rage with a horn next to her. In all of Equestria, there were only three things that could calm down a wrathful Lyra Heartstrings. One had strings. Another was on the way from Ponyville, having been held up late by business at her candy store. The third was trapped in a cave-in.

A burst of magic shot out of a green horn and pulled Cloud Kicker within limb’s reach of the furious mare.

“Kicky, there’s nothing wrong with you I can’t fix with my hooves.”

The surprised pegasus gasped as two hooves wrung out years of payment from her neck. Townsfolk jumped into the fray, pulling at the two combatants. Screwball lost track of the fight as a wall of pony surrounded the area. Several onlookers started calling for the town guards.

Screwball threw herself at the mass of villagers that separated her from Lyra, but couldn’t force her way into the circle before Bomber pulled her away. “Come on, love. Let’s hit it before the real trouble starts.” As the two disappeared behind the hot dog stand, they saw an older helmet pony with hoofcuffs on his flank pin down Lyra with the help of several onlookers.

“Quit struggling, lass! You’re pinched for messing up that pretty mare and it’s time to sit in the pokey a spell!” He roughly dragged the emotional mare backwards. “Stop lollygagging, now. You disrespect the law, you disrespect me.”

The jacket-clad fighter shook her head as she watched her only adult ally disappear. “That's a fiasco. No adult’s gonna listen to us now.”

Quest's friendly face raised Screwball’s spirits as he stepped out of the back of the now-closed hot dog stand. “Screwy, you sounded serious. If you need help, I’m in.”

She leaned her head onto his side as Bomber smirked. “You gamer boyos always want to be the knight ridin’ in, eh? If you only had a plan, we’d be golden.”

Screwball jumped off of Quest’s shoulder to stand on one hoof. Her friends backed off in surprise, sharing a nervous look. Squinting in concentration, the troubled teen spun around. After taking in the fair several times at high speed she leapt straight up in the pose of a Canterlot ballerina, falling onto the ground with a slump. A normally fearless streetfighter carefully leaned her head into her fallen friend’s face. Two spiraling eyes looked up into her with an enthusiastic grin.

“Me have plan. We not need to gather the group. Nothing is useful in the science lab.”

The galvanized mad mare sat upright, sending Bomber onto her haunch.

“Verily, my friends. The fair sage and her alchemist love shall not be swallowed into the depths of the Earth this day! So swears Foamrider!”

Minutes later an animated daughter of Discord hopped up and down in front of two confused jeweler salesponies. The mare in the buffalo-style headdress turned to her partner. “Crunch, do you think this is on the level?”

His horned flashed as he closed and locked their sales booth. “My dear, given Screwball’s record of breaking the odds I’d never factor out the unexpected. I say we believe her.”

The mare in question coughed something in in her throat, suddenly swallowing it with an uncomfortable sound. “Please help me. I don’t know what else to do.”

Luster’s heart nearly snapped as she gave her emotional friend an appraising eye. "Crunch, she looks like she’s close to breaking in several ways.”

He nodded as he tidied the stall. “You always had an eye for hidden facets.” A knock at the door drew his attention. “That’d be Bomber Jacket. Should I hide the lockbox?” Taking note of a look of stern disapproval, he let in the muscular mare, now weighed down with equipment sacks.

The gamer swallowed, looking into the eyes of the toughest pony in school as she entered the stall. Ancient instincts told him to flee. His brain revolted, trying to string together sentences in spite of the fear. “Um. Hi. Lovely meeting we’re weathering?”

Letting down a heavy clanking sack, Bomber's eyes poured out a level of concern that was unfamiliar to Crunch. “No time for small talk, lad. We got friends in trouble.” Shocked that the brawler girl had empathy, he gingerly stepped out of her way. Passing him, she leaned into range worried beanie-clad pony. “Screwy, ye don’t look good. Are you sure that you don’t want to lie down while we try…?”

A rough shove sent the jacket-clad filly smacking against the wall. Her wild-eyed friend sneered. “I would love to stay here while the closest thing I had to a parent slowly chokes to death. That’s the best thing I’ve heard all day!”

The two merchant-minded onlookers stared at each other for a moment. Luster started to shake, looking back and forth. She backed against the shed wall as she whispered imploringly to Crunch, “Step between them.”

Two skeptical eyes stared back through thick glasses. “Me? Between two earth ponies? What equation gave you that product?”

The worried filly bit her lip. “Crunch, no one’s ever laid a hoof on Bomber and kept all their teeth.” The peach-colored brawler in question started to raise herself off the dirt floor. She was giggling slowly with a tone that Nightmare Moon would have complimented. Luster gave a nervous laugh. “This is going to be bad.”

Crunch regarded his shocked friends and the imminent violence brewing in front of him. His business partner seemed paralyzed with apprehension. The gaming club’s designated calculator rolled his eyes. “I’m not even going to think about the odds on this.” He gave a derisive snort as he carefully approached the upcoming melee. “Abacus cutie mark, don’t fail me now.”

The ruffled jacket-clad girl had lifted herself up on her hooves and glared balefully at the spinning eyes staring back at her. “Ye had no call for that, lass. Ye deserve this.” She grinned like a slighted manticore as she stepped towards the heaving Screwball, each hoofbeat sounding like a tremor.

A sweating orange unicorn suddenly blocked her way. She saw beads of sweat dripping down his face.

“Get out of my way, Crunch. Ye ain’t gonna stop me.”

He gave a nervous nod. “Of course. I have no chance. Odds are quite good that you’ll have to spend a few bits cheering up Luster after you beat her coltfriend into paste, though.”

Bomber’s eyes crossed as the statement gobsmacked her sense of logic. She shook her head and examined her attacker over the shoulder of the terrified but stoic amateur mathematician. Screwball stared back imploringly, no fighting spirit to be found. With a sigh, the angry young chemist nodded at Crunch. She slowly steeped towards her worried pink friend.

“Ye’d let me buck you right in the face if I still helped, eh?”

A spiraling mane bobbed up and down as real tears rode the red paths led by their scarlet imitators. Bomber was sure a tap could have sent her normally cheerful friend to the floor. She reached a decision.

“Fine. Me Da would have liked you. Let’s go.” Luster breathed out in relief as Bomber raised a hoof in Screwball’s direction, lowering her tone. “Ye only get one, girl. I ain’t never given anyone more than that, friend or no.”

In a rush of air, two pink legs wrapped around Bomber’s neck. A beanie fell to the floor as the sound of wracking sobs filled the air. The mortified rocket filly cast wild glances at her schoolmates. Tentatively, she tapped the shaking image of a baseball on the flank of the unpredictable hug machine grappling her. “Um…there, there.”

A relieved rules lawyer trotted back to his companion. His horned glowed as he cleaned his glasses of sweat and condensation. “Well, that was a longshot.”

A raised eyebrow greeted him. “When did you become my ‘coltfriend,’ pray tell?”

He confidently lowered the glasses onto his face. “I’m the stallion who just stood in front of Bomber Jacket for you. I figured I’d make the logical assumption and let the dice fall where they may.”

Her surprising reply was cut off as the door swung open again. Sluice trotted in, holding oar in mouth and still dressed for the cultural fair. Behind him the rest of the Luna’s Academy Adventurer’s Guild strained to carry the large old boat being used a prop by Globe Trotter.

Quest nearly dropped his side of the burden as he saw the red-caked mess that was Screwball. Flip groaned from strain as his partner slacked off. “Hey, boss! Pegasus here, all right? I can’t do without the earth pony!”

The room’s nervous tension released as Flip’s tone drew laughter. The cider-and-pretzels gamer let out a long-suffering sigh. “This is what I get for wanting the simple things in life.”

Sluice dropped his oar to the side as he walked up to the reluctant quivering leader. “Lay on, Screwball. I’m in. Let’s write a happy bucking ending to this.”

Four bedraggled ponies lay sat motionless, three of them staring at the impenetrable wall that cut off their exit. Hardpick gave the wall an appraising look. “You know, I bet we’ve got maybe five feet of rock at most blocking us off.”

Placeholder reclined as if napping. The miner’s comment roused him from his nap. “Might as well be fifty feet, good sir. I doubt it matters to us in the long run.”

Cheerilee raised a dusty head from its place on the floor. At her voice Red’s ears poked up. “Sir, you can’t just resign yourself to this.”

He shrugged, rolling onto his hooves. “Why not, Miss?” He darkly chuckled to himself. “Can I call you Cheerilee? We are sharing a very personal moment, after all. Why not? There’s no pain. We’re not alone. Eventually we’ll have a little trouble breathing and drop off as if going to sleep.” Walking over to the tried mare, he gave a cheerful look of sympathy. “I’ve spent all my life ending things. I’ve seen enough to know this isn’t a bad one, as far as things go.”

Hardpick raised himself on one hoof. “What I wouldn’t give to be out of here, free of your waggling tongue.” His eyes focused on something far away. “I’d be out there with my son.”

Red rolled onto his back. His gaze travelled the roof searchingly. The mare by his side raised a questioning brow.

The stranded science teacher chuckled. “When the lights go out, I won’t be able to make out those funny faces of yours.”

She let out the breath caught in her throat. “Mister Glare, what are you doing?”

His eyes looked past her, gears in his head visibly turning. “I’m trying to calculate the current position of the Sun. I wondered if maybe I could make Celestia hear me if I sent it the right way.”

The exhausted schoolmare rested her head on his chest. “What would you say to her?”

A moment of thought followed. “If she could just get me out of here, I’ll change all those things that would annoy her. I’d get my grading done on time with pulling all-nighters, for starters.”

“I don’t know, Red. You’re kind of cute when you pass out from exhaustion.”

She felt his laughter through his chest. “You should talk. I’d dress nicer on parent-teacher conference days.” A silent pause hovered in the air. “I’d make time for all the special ponies outside my class.”

He heard her breath stop for a moment. When she spoke her voice cracked with restrained emotion. “I’d write my parents more. My Dad means well, but we’ve never spent enough time together. I still think he wanted me to be a salespony rather than a teacher.”

A hoof ruffled her mane. “I’d buy anything you sold.”

Their private thoughts were interrupted by Hardpick. The stern voice Cheerilee was used to finally showed emotion cracking through. "I'd never set foot in this tunnel again. I’ve wasted too much time in here when I could have got to know Sluice better. The boy's still a mystery to me. All these bottles won’t bring his sister back, and yet he spends those nights alone waiting for me instead of at my side.”

The three ponies craned their necks to Placeholder. He rolled his eyes at their expectant looks. “I think I might invite someone over for dinner occasionally. I have several antique clocks about to expire. I suppose it’d be a shame not to share the experience with someone.”

The following seconds were silent except for the sound of water underground. Placeholder clicked his tongue in an offended manner. “Well, it seems important to me, at least.”

The philosophical principal suddenly turned his attention to the dimming mining helmet to his side. With noticeable effort he levitated it closer for an inspection as the illumination faded away. “Filly and gentlecolts, that’s it for the fireflies. I think things may get a bit darker soon.”