He was covered in sweat, his legs were sore, and his heart hammered against his chest as it heavily rose and fell with breath.

Today had been a good day. Phillip Finder was trotting back towards his home from the park, where he had just completed his workout. He'd managed to shave twelve seconds off his time for five laps around the lake. That, combined with two solid hours of strength training, martial arts practice, and parkour training, accounted for a good time in his book. And even better, this morning, he had gotten a tidy sum playing his sax in the park, and there was The Count of Mare Cristo and a shot of hard cider waiting for him back at home.

Tugging his trilby down over his eyes to shade them from the lowering sun, he smiled to himself. Nothing could ruin this day.

Not even a gray pegasus tumbling out of the sky and knocking him down.

"Hi, Phil!" Ditzy Do said, giving him an upside-down grin, her mailmare's cap now lying on the ground next to her head.

"G'day," Phillip said calmly as the two got back to their hooves.

"I've got a package for you," Ditzy said, digging around in her saddlebag. She pulled out a small box wrapped in brown paper and gave it to him. It had a label on it that read "Philip Finder, 221 B Bolevard, Ponyville." There was no return address. Taking it, Phillip felt something slightly heavy shifting around inside the box.

"Thanks, mate," Phillip said.

"Have a good day!" Ditzy said, turning to fly away with a smile and a wave. No sooner had she said that than she flew into a tree. "I'm okay!" she said, waving off her accident with a smile.

"Just be careful," Phillip called after her.

"Don't worry!" Ditzy said, flying off to continue her rounds. Phillip watched her go, head tilted in pondering.

It occurred to him that Ditzy was an unusually strong mare, to go out and face life with her disability, bear every accident and stand strong in the face of seemingly endless insults; even stronger than many, for she did it all with a genuine smile and an open heart. She was unusually brave as well, he reflected, recalling their adventure in the old Rainbow Factory.

In fact, once he thought about it, all of his friends were strong indeed. Time Turner, a loving husband and father and respected pillar of the community in spite of his shyness and obsessive-compulsive disorder; Lyra and Bon Bon, who lived happily and provided all they could for their daughter in spite of the disease of homophobia that still infected parts of Equestrian society; Dr. Rain Breeze, who had raised her daughter in her husband's absence; Zipline, who joined the Royal Guard in spite of his crippling vertigo; Scootaloo, Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle, Dinky Do and Tootsie Flute, who refused to give up in spite of the constant bullying they received for being blank flanks; and Flash Sentry, who had refused to be corrupted by the tide of filth that plagued the southern streets of Fillydelphia.

And then there were the six ponies and one dragon who now worked out of the crystalline castle just out of town. They had faced obstacles and hurdles that few would have been able to face—he shivered involuntarily as he recalled Tirek's march of terror—and come out with their friendship not just intact, but stronger than ever. And at heart, they remained the same open-hearted ponies.

He wished he had that strength.

Bringing himself out of his reverie, he turned and headed off. Time to get to the house and see what this package was about.

Shutting the door to his cottage behind him, Phillip trotted into the living room and placed his package down on the coffee table to examine it. The address was written in pencil by somepony using a mouth hold, so not a unicorn. He now noticed that his name had only one L, and Boulevard was spelled incorrectly, so the sender was uneducated. The paper that wrapped the package was garden variety: nothing of interest that he could see from an initial glance over. Carefully cutting it open with his pocketknife, he slowly opened the box.

"Crikey," he murmured in surprise and confusion. Inside the box was a pair of horseshoes: a pair of front horseshoes. Gently, he took the shoes out and examined them.

Now why would somepony send me their horseshoes? he thought. Taking the box and its contents down to his basement laboratory, he set them down on his workbench to examine them, peering through an illuminated table top magnifier. The horseshoes were old and faded, dirt crusted in every crevice and layering the metal.

Barely visible among the faded markings was a group of letters: "IF & Co." That'll be Iron Fittings, the local blacksmith, Phillip thought. A local, then. Examining the pattern of the fading, he noticed something odd. The fading on the left horseshoe is irregular. The pony probably walks with a limp.

Scraping off some of the dirt, he placed it under a microscope for a closer examination. The sample, he determined, was actually a mixture of unrefined clay, grass, and some small pieces of marble, along with some old pieces of rope.

Only one place somepony could have gotten all that on their shoes. Leaving the package on the desk, Phillip exited the cottage and headed for the Ponyville Cemetery.

From a distance, a pair of eyes watched him through binoculars. The watcher smirked. He had figured it out, just as he'd anticipated.

Time to get to work.

Rainbow was soaring over a packed crowd with the Wonderbolts, painting arcing rainbows across the sky as she expertly soared hundreds of feet above the ground, a huge grin in the air. As she made a sharp turn in midair, her elation suddenly turned into surprise when she saw Rarity floating in front of her, staring sternly at her. "Rainbow Dash," she said.

"Rarity?" a bewildered Rainbow Dash said, halting before her friend.

"Rainbow Dash," Rarity repeated, more forcefully.

"What is it?" Rainbow asked, her confusion growing by the moment.

"Rainbow Dash!"

Rainbow jolted awake at the sound of her friend's voice and peered over the edge of the cloud that she'd been napping upon to see Rarity standing on the ground beneath her, staring up at her. "What the hay, Rarity? I was in the middle of a good nap!"

"I was just reminding you that we have a meeting at the castle in a few minutes," Rarity said. "And it would be very rude of you to show up late."

Rainbow groaned. "I don't see why Twilight has to have these talks."

"Rainbow, a lot of things have changed recently," Rarity said. "Twilight is doing her best to adjust to her new roles...as we all are."

Rainbow's expression softened as her irritation at being inconvenienced dissipated. Rarity was right: there was still a lot they all needed to figure out. "All right, I'm coming."

"Wonderful," Rarity said, brightening as the two friends headed towards the Castle.

A few inquiries at the Cemetery and Phillip was headed to the western side of town in search of a name that was vaguely familiar to him. Deep Digger. In Phillip's first month in Ponyville, he had sent Deep's brother, Gold Digger, to a long prison stretch for armed robbery. The brothers had been close, and Deep had not taken his brother's imprisonment well: all this time later, Phillip still recalled the look of vindictive hatred the limping stallion had given him in the courtroom.

So why was he now sending him his horseshoes?

He was soon to find out. He had just arrived at the gravedigger's simple cottage, backlit by the setting sun. Walking up the short pathway, overgrown with weeds, he knocked on the door. "Mr. Digger."

No answer. Frowning, Phillip knocked harder. "Mr. Digger!" Still nothing from inside the house.

Well, if he won't answer the door, I'll just find my own way in. Walking around the exterior of the house, Phillip soon found a window that was slightly open. Pushing it open enough so that he could squeeze through, Phillip soon gained entry into the cottage's dining room. There were several bags of fresh groceries left on the table. Searching the first floor of the house, Phillip found no sign of Deep Digger, and nothing else of interest.

Noticing the open door leading to the basement stairs, he decided to head downstairs. Silently trotting down the steps along the edge of the staircase, he felt for a light switch along the wall. He finally found it at the bottom of the stairs and flicked it on. A bare bulb flickered on above him.

The first thing he saw when the light came on was Deep Digger. He was lying on the floor in front of him, dead. His head and neck lay in a small pool of dark coagulated blood that had spilled from the stab wound in his neck. Carefully checking the body's temperature and rigor mortis, Phillip judged that he had probably died this morning. Probably died right after he got back from grocery shopping, he thought, recalling the grocery bags on the dining room. Just to satisfy his curiosity, Phillip checked the corpse's shoes. Sure enough, his front horseshoes were missing.

Looking up, Phillip saw a curtain in front of him, stretching from wall to wall. Approaching, he pushed the curtain aside. What he saw behind it made him freeze, eyes widening in shock.

A small cot lay in the center of the room, a chessboard and book of chess openings next to it. Surrounding it, taped up on the walls and scattered across the floor, were several photographs. All of them were of his friends, in various settings: even in their own homes, the pictures taken through windows with a telephoto lens. A cluster was devoted to Twilight; a larger group displayed Flash.

Turning to a far wall, Phillip felt his breath catch in his chest. The entire wall was pictures of him. At the park, Sugarcube Corner, walking down the streets of Ponyville, shoveling snow for Winter Wrap Up, even resting in his own house.

Who is this? he thought in horror.

Suddenly, he froze, his head snapping eastward. His eyes narrowed and his jaw tightened. His entire body stiffened, then shivered violently: waves of cold ran through him, like being stabbed with a thousand icicles. An image burned in his mind: Twilight, Spike, Flash and the other mares in the throne room of the Rainbow Castle.

As soon as the episode passed, Phillip sprinted out of the cottage and into the street. Leaping from some crates onto the roof of another house, he leapt from roof to roof across Ponyville, heading towards the crystalline structure in the distance.

In his panic, he didn't notice the oddly low-hanging cloud above him. But the pegasus sniper hiding in the cloud saw him. Drawing his weapon, the sniper peered through the scope at his target, tracking his movement. At the opportune moment, he squeezed the trigger. The crossbow shuddered in his grasp as it released its payload.

Phillip had just landed on the next rooftop when pain shot up his side. Glancing back with a yelp, he saw to his shock a dart stuck in him. Instantly, the world tilted like the deck of a ship in a storm and his legs shook violently, struggling to hold up his weight. He tried to force himself up, to keep running, to go help his friends, but the anesthetic worked too quickly.

Phillip was unconscious before he dropped down onto the rooftop.

Meanwhile, the seven rulers of the Castle of Friendship had just gathered in the throne room for a meeting, each taking their place in their respective throne. Twilight had just unrolled a scroll containing the itinerary for the day. "All right, girls, we have a lot to cover tonight, but we'll try to make this as quick as possible. Flash, could you make sure that we are not disturbed?"

"Yes, Your Highness," Flash said, bowing slightly before turning and exiting the room to patrol the hallway.

The trouble was, there was something in the hallway that shouldn't be there: a small unmarked box, wrapped in a long black ribbon. There was a small tag on the side. Curious, Flash picked up the tag and read it.

"'What is one question you can never answer yes to?'"

Confused, and his curiosity further piqued, Flash unwrapped the ribbon and opened the box. As soon as he did so, a cloud of black, foul-smelling gas rushed out with a hiss. Coughing, Flash staggered back, shaking his head to clear his vision. A feeling of dizziness passed over him, and he suddenly found it hard to stand. Collapsing to his knees, he struggled to fight the effects of the gas.

Hearing a noise beside him, Flash looked up to see another pony walking towards him, clad in a hooded cloak and a gas mask. A pair of soulless black eyes, dark as a cave, stared at him.

"'Are you asleep?'" the pony whispered, the words like molasses in Flash's ears. Flash tried to get up, to fight, to shout a warning to the others in the next room, but all that he could manage was a feeble groan as he slowly collapsed to the ground, darkness enclosing his senses.

Taking the box in a magical grip, the intruder turned and opened the doors to the throne room, shutting them behind him. Somepony standing outside the doors at this moment would have heard a long hiss, accompanied by several coughing voices, before silence fell over all.

Author's Notes:

Nothing good is going to happen.