"Will you quit that flying around in a circle?" Applejack hissed to Rainbow. "You're making me antsy."

Rainbow, who'd been flying around in a circle over the group, groaned in frustration. "What's taking him so long?!" A cold wind blew and she shivered violently.

"Rainbow, you gotta be patient," Applejack said. "He'll get 'em out. We just gotta wait."

"Rainbow, your coat is still wet," Fluttershy said timidly, huddling near the small fire that Spike had made from the limited available resources. "Please come sit near the fire where it's warm before you catch a cold."

Persuaded by her friend's pleading tone, Rainbow settled down next to her with a frustrated grunt, still shivering. Fluttershy put a wing around her to try to help her warm up.

"If I had known there was gonna be a campfire, I would have brought marshmallows!" Pinkie declared, sitting next to the fire, free of worry as usual. Her comment, however, failed to cheer up the others. They could do nothing more than huddle near one another for warmth and comfort, battling both fear and fatigue as they waited for their friends.

Phillip blinked a few times and shook his head, stifling a yawn. He was getting tired: the roller coaster of adrenaline and fear that he'd been on all night was beginning to take effect. It felt like a fog had entered his head, dulling his senses.

He pushed through it, continuing forward. He'd been more tired before. And he couldn't allow himself to give in to the fatigue. Not until everypony was safe.

Turning a corner, he found himself facing a door. He opened it and stepped through. His flashlight illuminated another pony, staring at him. He instinctively jumped back, his hoof going up towards the pocket carrying his baton, before he realized that the other pony was just a ponyquin, staring blankly at him with a featureless gaze. There were two hallways on either side of the ponyquin.

Suddenly, a timer above the ponyquin switched on: 4:00. Instantly focusing, Phillip spotted the instructions on the wall next to the ponyquin. "You come to a crossroads on a path. One leads to a village where everypony always lies, the other to a village where everypony always tells the truth. You meet a pony who is from one of the villages, but you don't know which. Ask him one question to determine which way to the truth village."

Phillip stared at the ponyquin, thinking hard. The blank face offered no clues or encouragement. I have to think of a question that will be the same no matter if the pony is a liar or truth-teller, he thought. Which way to the truth village? No, that won't work... He began to pace in a circle, never taking his eyes off of the blank face.

Just as the timer ticked past 3:30, the answer came to him. Speaking clearly, he asked, "Which way leads to your village?"

A light snapped on, illuminating the path to his right. He ran forward through it and immediately came to an intersection. The path ahead had a white arrow painted on the floor, while the one to his right had a red arrow painted on the floor. Making a snap decision, he took the right path. A left turn, a right turn, straight ahead to another left...a dead end! A timer mounted on the wall taunted him, indicating 2:15. Damn it! He quickly turned around and went back, taking the straight path with the white arrow.

As he continued through the maze of twists and turns, he passed several more colored arrows, some of them directing him down dead end paths. White, blue, green, black, red, yellow, green...The pattern is probably significant. Pausing for a moment to collect his thoughts, Phillip pictured entering his own home. He imagined opening the white door and entering the blue hallway, turning right into a black-painted living room, going through into the red kitchen and then into the green back room. Continuing forward, he followed the arrows, adding more colored rooms to his imaginary house as he went. Finally, after ten intersections, he exited the maze into a large room. Right in front of him was a panel with several colored buttons on it: red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet, black, white and brown.

Looking up, he saw Twilight in front of him. She was standing atop a small platform, a magic suppression ring around her horn, her wings and hooves shackled, and a noose tied over her neck. Phillip could see the faint outline of a trapdoor right underneath where she was standing.

"Help!" she shouted upon seeing him.

"Hang on, Twilight," Phillip said, going back through his house in his imagination, recalling all the colors and pressing the buttons before him. White, blue, black, red, green, black, brown, yellow, orange, indigo, and violet.

The timer stopped...then reset to 0:30. A light went on, illuminating a sign next to him: "A pony built a house with all walls facing north. A bear walked past the house. What color is the bear?"

What? Phillip thought. He looked up at the timer, feeling sweat forming at the top of his brow already. Twilight shifted in her bonds, trying to get out, watching the timer click down towards her doom.

Okay. Every wall facing north...that has to be at the South Pole. Therefore, the bear is a polar bear! The answer is white! He brought his hoof up, aiming at the white button. But right before he pressed down, his hoof was halted by a second thought.

Wait a minute. South Pole...there are no polar bears in the southern hemisphere. They only live in the Arctic. His hoof hovered over the panel. He looked back at the illuminated sign. It's a trick. The riddle is a trick question!

The timer had reached 0:15, and continued ticking down. Twilight looked desperately at Phillip, unable to understand why he had hesitated. There has to be an answer...but the question doesn't have an answer! What do I do?

Ten seconds. Twilight was struggling to light her horn to free herself, but grunted in pain as the ring forced her magic back into her. She pulled desperately at the manacles, but they refused to budge, rattling as they continued to hold her in place.

Slowly, Phillip took a step back from the panel. If I'm wrong about this...

Six. Five. Four. Three. Unable to watch one of his friends die, he turned away, closing his eyes. The rattling of chains became louder and more desperate as Twilight struggled to free herself. Two. One...Both ponies braced themselves for the end...

Zero. Silence. Phillip opened his eyes to find that Twilight was still standing on the platform, breathing frantically. The locks on her chains glowed yellow, then released. Quickly, she took the ring off her horn, pulled herself out of the noose and floated down to Phillip.

"Are you okay?" he asked, gripping her shoulders in relief.

"Yes, I'm fine," Twilight said, taking a few gulps of air to calm herself down. "Are the others okay?"

"I've found everypony except Flash," Phillip said, slowly releasing Twilight's shoulders. I almost killed you.

Twilight's eyes widened when she heard that Flash was still unaccounted for. "Do you need help?"

"No. You need to get outside to safety." Twilight hesitated. "I will find him, Twilight. Just get yourself to safety."

Slowly, Twilight nodded. She moved past him and headed for the door. "Please hurry, Phil."

"I will. Now go!" Twilight headed out the door. As soon as it closed behind her, a light illuminated a door at the back of the room. Phillip hurried through it and found himself heading out of the back of the mill. The cold wind and darkness of night embraced him, and he heard the running of the river and squeaking of the watermill ahead. A makeshift wooden bridge provided a way for him to cross the river. Trotting across, he spotted several signs on the ground up ahead. There was one large sign, and five smaller numbered signs, spaced out several feet apart. He walked over to the big sign.

"3, 1.5, 4, X. Find the number that makes the product the same as the sum, and multiply by friends saved."

Piece of piss, Phillip thought, and quickly made some calculations in his head:
3+1.5+4+X=3*1.5*4*X.
8.5+X=18X.
8.5=17X.
X=8.5/17=0.5.
0.5*6=3.
Phillip spotted the sign that said 3 and hurried over to it. To his confusion, there was nothing in the area. Just the sign and the dirt beneath his hooves. Dirt that was freshly turned.

Oh, no! He threw himself at the dirt and began digging furiously, flinging dirt everywhere. "FLASH! FLASH!" he shouted, but there was no reply. He burrowed down further like a drill, fueled by panic and desperation. After about a minute of digging a couple of feet, his hooves scraped against a wooden box. Working hurriedly, he uncovered the rest of the box and pulled the top off.

Inside was Flash Sentry. He was completely still, his eyes closed and his mouth hanging open slightly. Panting and grunting with effort, Phillip grabbed him underneath the forelegs and heaved him up out of the coffin, laying him down on the ground next to him. "Flash? Flash, wake up! Wake up!"

The younger stallion did not respond. Slowly, Phillip lowered his head and pressed his ear against Flash's chest.

Nothing. No rise and fall of breath. No beating of the heart. Not a single sign of life.

Flash was dead. Phillip looked down at the body, feeling like he'd been suddenly turned into a hollow copy of himself. His eyes stung violently, half-blinding him. For a moment, as he looked down at the corpse, he didn't see Flash, but his father, lying on the floor of the living room back at Sydneigh, eyes closed in death and crimson blood coagulating around his slit throat. Something inside him began to scream, a long howl of agony that echoed within his own head.

He'd failed again. He was too slow. Too weak. Too stupid. And another pony who had trusted him, whom he had cared for, had died because of him.

"No..." he whispered, then screamed. "No!" A rush of anger, of denial burned through him and spurred him to action. Placing both of his hooves on Flash's chest and locking his elbows, he began to push down rhythmically. One, two, three, four, five...He felt the ribs flexing beneath his hooves, but Flash did not respond.

Twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty. Tilting Flash's head back slightly and gently pinching his nostrils shut, Phil sealed his lips around his and blew into his mouth. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Flash's chest rise as air went into his lungs. He blew in another breath, then returned to chest compressions. "Come on," he whispered. "Come on."

Another round of chest compressions and breathing went by, but Flash did not respond. Phillip, barely able to see through the tears that were burning in his eyes, continued the attempt despite his own exhaustion. "Come on, please, Flash." Completing thirty compressions, he locked lips and breathed twice into the lungs. Panting as he came up, he began to press down on Flash's chest again. Everything told him to give up. He was too tired to keep going, and every passing second made his efforts more futile.

But he refused to let the other stallion go, refused to accept that he was dead, refused to accept that he had failed in his oath. "Please, God," he whispered, keeping up the rhythm. "Please, don't do this to me. Don't take him away." On the thirtieth compression, he paused briefly to catch his breath before leaning down towards Flash's face.

Suddenly, the blue eyes flew open with a loud gasp, followed by a round of violent coughs. Flash tried to sit up, then collapsed back onto the ground, hyperventilating in terror and shock.

Relief flooded through Phillip like a cold cider on a hot summer day. He gripped Flash's shoulders reassuringly. "Hey, look at me. Look at me." The blue eyes, tinged with panic, met his, and he felt like his heart would leap out of his chest. "Just breathe, Flash. You're okay. You're okay."

"Twilight—" Flash gasped out, trying to get up.

"She's safe. They're all safe. You're safe." Phillip said, gently pushing him back down. "Just breathe. You're safe."

Eventually, Flash's breathing slowed as he calmed down. Phillip got off him, turning away so he could wipe his eyes. "Can you stand?"

"Yeah, I think so," Flash said, allowing Phillip to help him up and leaning on him for support. The two began to walk back down towards the mill across the bridge. "You saved my life," Flash said.

"There's an easy way to repay me for that," Phillip said, allowing a smile to play at his lips. "Don't make me have to kiss you again."

Flash chuckled. "Deal."

A tear slowly traveled down Phillip's face (the side that Flash couldn't see). He hadn't failed.

Author's Notes:

Oh, come on, did you really think I would kill off Flash?

Next: the reveal!