Mr. Cake held one of the kitchen’s set of swinging doors open for Lyra. “Watch your step. It looks like I left behind a trail of flour after it spilled on me,” he said, nodding towards the floor.

Lyra did her best to seem appreciative, but found that, after dealing with the buffet, she couldn’t even find the energy to keep her head fully raised. She only hoped some magical labor might help clear her mind. If not, then at least she would be doing a good deed. That might be worth a thank-you cookie later.

Stepping past Mr. Cake, Lyra looked up and noticed she was entering into a much brighter world. It was also a much more dessert-filled one, which was always a plus in her book.

Nearly every flat, elevated surface available in Sugarcube Corner’s kitchen was filled with cakes, cookies, pies, muffins, cupcakes, and a variety of other desserts, including some things Lyra didn’t even know the names of but still looked amazingly delicious anyway. The few places that weren’t host to the cornucopia of delectable treats were instead stacked with pans, trays, and other things that would soon become the home of even more of the fantastic creations.

The sights were amazing enough, but then Lyra took her first real smell. She instantly began to sniff involuntarily at the air, drawing in more and more of the sublimely sweet scents that permeated everything. It reminded her of those wonderful days when Bon Bon went on one of her candy-making sprees. Only without the candy. Well, it didn’t smell exactly like Bon Bon’s cooking, but it did smell like sugar and that was good enough.

A feeling of zen came over Lyra as she reflected upon this perfect moment and how it seemed to melt away all the stress she had accumulated over the past couple of hours. Here was truly the ultimate center of happiness. The only way her joy could have raised any higher—and thereby reach the fabled overflowing level—would be if the Cakes were also giving out free samples.

Lyra adjusted her smile to something that should read as ‘hopeful, but not eager’ and glanced sidelong at Mr. Cake. However, Mr. Cake also appeared to be enthralled by the room. Specifically, the area over by the oven that contained Mrs. Cake, who was methodically rolling out some dough and not even looking up to see who had entered.

Thankfully, Mr. Cake only took a few seconds of admiring his wife before he realized he was supposed to be leading Lyra towards the ripped sack of flour. “Oh! Uh...” He lightly cleared his throat and turned around to walk the opposite way. “We better not bother Cup while she’s busy. This way. They’re over here.”

Lyra nodded. “No problem at all. I recognize ‘the cooking zone’ when I see it. Sometimes, it’s really hard to take your eyes off of somepony in it,” she said, then smirked and shook her head. “I remember a week ago when I went to the kitchen for a drink only to find Bon Bon at the stove. Next thing I know, two hours have gone by, the candy is done, and I’m still thirsty.”

“Yeah, something like that,” Mr. Cake said with a chuckle. “Here we are.” He indicated towards the sacks outside the cellar door. “The one on the left has the rip. I’ll get the other two.”

Mr. Cake hefted one of the sacks across his back. With a grunt of effort, he took the other in his mouth, then kicked the door shut and started his return trip across the kitchen. Lyra concentrated hard and lifted the remaining sack with her magic, being careful to keep the ripped end facing upwards.

Still having not noticed them, Mrs. Cake continued with her preparations that, judging by the number of finished pastries, must have been going on for quite some time. While not as messy as her husband, her apron was still stained in a variety of colors and her coat was heavily matted with streaks of dough. What stood out the most though was that, even in all the cooking chaos, the area she worked in remained spotless.

The life of a baker was obviously a frantic one at this time of year. Maybe even more frantic than normal, considering that the candy had run out. However, as Mrs. Cake turned her head to open a drawer and pull out a cookie cutter, Lyra could see the smile that she wore upon her face.

A smile that quickly faded as a buzzing sound filled the air.

Mrs. Cake sprang into action, dashing between the oven, the counter tops, and the tables. Trays of freshly baked cupcakes clattered into semi straight rows along the counter while bowls of batter sloshed as they poured into pans that then went straight into the oven. A stray mouth mitt broke free from the whirlwind of motion and landed next to Lyra’s hooves. Then, the oven shut and Mrs. Cake gave a gentle tap to the buzzer, which happily went back to ticking off the time.

Lyra blinked to uncross her eyes. It was a good thing she was carrying the flour sack with her magic instead of in her mouth, because her jaw had dropped. Mrs. Cake’s display was clear evidence that speed-baking should have been an event in the Equestria Games.

After setting down his flour by the counter, Mr. Cake approached his wife and placed a hoof on her shoulder. Mrs. Cake gave a startled gasp as she turned towards her husband but soon relaxed and covered her mouth to hold off her laughter.

“Um, Dear? You got a little something...” Mrs. Cake giggled as she motioned her hoof in a circle around her own face.

Mr. Cake leaned forward to touch his nose to Mrs. Cake’s. Being completely covered in flour must not have been too strange of an occurrence in the Cake household, for they were soon sharing an affectionate nuzzle.

Lyra felt a blush coming on, so she looked away and instead focused on levitating her sack of flour to rest gently along with the others. Once finished, she risked a glance up at the two lovebirds to find that Mrs. Cake was now rubbing flour from her nose while Mr. Cake had a sheepish grin on his face.

Getting back to business, Mr. Cake examined the line of cupcake trays, his head slightly bobbing at each one. “...eight, nine, ten. That puts us at... forty dozen total? Is that right, Sugarplum?”

“Sure is, Snickerdoodle,” Mrs. Cake replied, then looked up and held a hoof to her chin. “That means... only five dozen more cupcakes, four five-layer cakes—or was it five four-layer cakes? We’ll have to double check. Six pies, two dozen muffins, and thirty batches of cookies to go.”

Lyra should have just left her jaw dropped from earlier. She had seen Bon Bon get candy orders before that had seemed way too big to ever get done in time, but those had been nothing compared to this. Lyra felt sorry for the Cakes. While they may not have been the only bakers in Ponyville, they were the most popular, and that popularity had a price. She only hoped they could keep up their spirits while facing such an impossible task.

“That’s all that’s left?” Mr. Cake said, his face beaming. “I can’t believe it. At this rate, we’re going to finish with plenty of time to spare!”

“I know! We might actually get to sleep a full eight hours tonight!”

Sighing dreamily, Mrs. and Mr. Cake turned half-open eyes upwards to stare at a point on the ceiling: possibly the direction of their bed. After a minute of this, Lyra began to wonder if she should be staring too. Then, Mr. Cake snapped out of his trance and broke the moment of silence.

“Well, if you fillies will excuse me,” he said, nodding towards Mrs. Cake and Lyra. “I better get cleaned up a little before I end up spilling milk, eggs, and sugar on myself and become a cake in more ways than one.”

Chuckling to himself, Mr. Cake left the kitchen back out the swinging doors. The sound of his hooves going up a set of regular, non-creaky stairs gradually faded until Lyra was left with the near-silence of the room. A silence that was in danger of becoming awkward.

As Lyra stared at Mrs. Cake, her mind went blank as to what she could possibly say to the baker. They hardly even knew each other and had certainly never been alone in the same room together. Oh sure, they may have exchanged pleasantries from time to time during one of Pinkie’s parties or talked about what was going on in town while Lyra ordered a breakfast muffin, but that had always just been business.

To make matters worse, now that she found herself in this situation, her stupid brain wouldn’t stop replaying that one embarrassing moment from that day years ago when she had visited Sugarcube Corner for the first time. Lyra could still hear the irritated sighs that had come from Bon Bon as she held her forehead with her hoof.

But Mrs. Cake wouldn’t want to talk about what had happened back then. She probably didn’t even remember that honest little mistake. Hopefully.

Lyra grinned weakly at Mrs. Cake, who returned the same grin back. It was clear this stalemate would continue until one of them broke the silence or Mr. Cake returned.

“Hello, um, Lyra was it?” Mrs. Cake asked.

“I swear I thought it was real gingerbread!”

The silence then became awkward.

“I mean, yes! My name is Lyra.” Now that the conversation had started, Lyra had to find a way to direct it away from the time she had learned how painful it was to get splinters stuck in her tongue. Enthusiasm would be a good start. “Wow! Is all this for the town’s celebration tomorrow night? I have to say, Mrs. Cake, this is absolutely amazing.”

“Oh, thank you,” Mrs. Cake said and raised a hoof as to hide a blush. Although, the flour on her cheeks did a much better job of it. “It’s a combination of things for the town party, personal orders, and regular daily stock. But I really can’t take all the credit. I would never have gotten this far without Carrot’s help. Both with baking and the twins. Oh! I just remembered. Do thank Bon Bon again for me. The Triple Trouble Nightmarish Truffle Cake turned out beautifully thanks to her.”

“Oh yeah! I will.”

Lyra remembered all the work that had gone into those truffles. Bon Bon had spent nearly an entire day shaping the chocolate candies to look like pumpkins, skulls, bats, and other Nightmare Nightish designs. She had looked so serious at the time, even though she was smiling. Lyra had been able to tell those truffles had been important to Bon Bon, so she hadn’t even asked for one. Of course, the bowl of leftover chocolate she had been given to lick clean had helped.

“You know,” Lyra said, smiling, “Bon Bon will never admit this, but she’s really proud that her candy will be on the centerpiece for tomorrow night’s dessert buffet. It’s just too bad most ponies will devour them without really paying attention to what they look like. Except, I guess having everypony enjoy your candy is its own reward.”

Mrs. Cake nodded. “That’s exactly how I feel when I bake.”

Lyra nodded back and realized that she was already out of possible conversation topics. It wouldn’t be a problem, though. As nice as it was being able to take a break and talk, it didn’t take a genius to realize that the Cakes were very busy. Slowly shuffling away to not seem rude, Lyra said, “Well, it’s been great talking with you, Mrs. Cake, but I better get back to testing the haunted house before Pinkie wonders where I am and has to come find me.”

Mrs. Cake's eyes lit up. “Oh, that explains it! I was wondering if that really was a scream I heard earlier," she said. Her smile slowly faded afterward. “Er... are you all right?”

Lyra was not all right. She felt like her entire body had just been dunked into a tank of icy water. As she struggled to keep her breathing steady, she couldn’t—or rather, didn’t want to—wrap her mind around the implication of those words. She forced herself to meet Mrs. Cake’s eyes. “I screamed?”

Before Mrs. Cake could answer, Lyra quickly continued. “I mean, yeah, I screamed. No big deal.” She polished the tip of a hoof against her chest, then held it up for inspection. If she could play this cool, Mrs. Cake would be none the wiser. “Ooooh! Aaaaah! Heh heh. All fake of course. After all, I had to put on a show. Couldn’t let Pinkie and Twilight think there was something wrong with their haunted house, you know?”

Lyra laughed richly, but it died out when Mrs. Cake didn't join in. Instead, Mrs. Cake smiled at Lyra with that small smile mother’s get when their foals insist that they’re old enough to stay up past eight o'clock and that they’re going to prove it by doing so.

Well, Lyra wasn’t about to fall asleep at eight-o-five. She cleared her throat and added, “I wasn’t scared.”

“I didn’t say you were.”

Mrs. Cake’s smile remained. If anything, it somehow got stronger.

“Ah, r-right. Good,” Lyra said. “Because haunted houses are the least scary part of Nightmare Night.”

“I agree.”

Lyra held a hoof in the air. “I mean, they’re only buildings that were created for the sole purpose of terrifying ponies.” She shrugged her one raised foreleg. “What’s scary about that?”

“Practically nothing.”

“Exactly.”

Now that she and Mrs. Cake were in agreement, there was nothing preventing Lyra from marching out the kitchen door and proving how not scared she was.

“Do you think a cupcake would help you feel better?” Mrs. Cake asked.

Her defenses shattered in a masterful blow, Lyra hung her head and softly answered, “Yes.”

“Okay.” Mrs. Cake walked over to the table and lifted a platter of cookies onto her back to make an open space. She wiped the tablecloth clean of imaginary crumbs and motioned to the chair. “Why don’t you sit here? I was worried this might happen. Some of Pinkie’s ideas sounded far too scary. I was hoping her friends might be able to keep it toned down.”

As she sat down, Lyra sighed and shook her head. “No, it’s not that. It’s not too scary. In fact I like being scared.” Even without looking, she could tell Mrs. Cake was probably staring at the back of her head in confusion. Lyra tried to put her thoughts to words. “It’s just that haunted houses are—well, I know that’s just me, and that they’re really supposed to be—but I didn’t think I’d still get—I mean, I knew going in that I might... I’m just...” She turned halfway around in her seat and shrugged at Mrs. Cake. “You know?”

“I’m not sure that I follow,” Mrs. Cake said with a small frown, “but it’s clear to me that you have something on your mind that’s bothering you. Just try to relax, and I’ll fetch you a fresh cupcake once I finish frosting a batch. Maybe something sweet will help you unravel your thoughts.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Cake.”

Lyra stared down motionlessly at the wooden tabletop. Her brain felt completely knotted up. She knew Mrs. Cake was right, though. Something was bothering her, but she wasn’t certain why. She liked being scared, that much was true. Tomorrow night was going to be amazing with all the costumes, and the horror stories, and the attempts everypony would be making to frighten each other. It would be fun.

So why wasn’t she having fun now?

Lyra could still vividly remember that day, years ago, after having learned that ghosts aren’t real. She had burst out of the haunted house and instantly sought her parents for comfort. They hadn’t understood what she was trying to tell them—likely because she couldn’t stop crying and blubbering long enough to form a complete sentence—but they had done their parental duty and made everything better by hugging her and then buying her an ice cream cone. She had angrily eaten that ice cream, and all the while, she had sworn that she would never, ever set hoof in another haunted house as long as she lived.

And yet, here she was.

Since trying to sort out her feelings was only giving her a headache, Lyra decided to think about something else. There was a smaller problem that had been bothering her for a while: one that Mrs. Cake may very well know the answer to.

“Hey, Mrs. Cake?” Lyra asked.

Mrs. Cake looked up from her tray of half-frosted cupcakes, but remained silent since she held a pastry tube in her mouth.

“You can answer when you’re done, but how is it that Ponyville has run out of candy? I mean, I know it’s a small town, but I’ve been here for years and I’ve never seen us even get close to running out. Sure, a few little stores might, but never Sugarcube Corner. It’s almost like—” Just then, a thought came over Lyra so horrible that it forced her to gasp audibly. “Mrs. Cake! Tell it to me straight because I swear I can handle the truth. Is... is Equestria suffering from a candy shortage?”

Mrs. Cake snorted, sending a stream of frosting shooting out over the cupcakes and onto the wall. She dropped the tube next to the tray, letting her laughter escape. She shook her head and made to answer, but then her laughter redoubled and she was forced to lift her apron to clear away her tears.

“Sorry... sorry,” she said as she breathed heavily to get herself under control. “It just that you looked so serious when you asked me that. No, there’s no shortage. Or at least there shouldn’t be one outside of Ponyville. I don’t know for certain, but I think everypony is buying up the candy in hopes that Princess Luna keeps her promise to return this year.”

“Oh.”

Lyra turned back to the table and stared blankly ahead. While it was a relief to learn that Equestria wasn’t running out of candy and had thereby avoided entering into a dark age, this new information presented a puzzling situation that may or may not have been the prelude to something worse. Apparently, visiting royalty somehow had an effect on the supply and demand of the candy market.

She tried running a few explanations through her head, but the more she thought on it, the more she realized this riddle was going to keep her awake in bed all night.

A clinking sound drew Lyra’s attention downward to where she found a plate that held a blue-frosted, pink-sprinkled, vanilla cupcake. She looked up at Mrs. Cake, who smiled down at her.

“I can tell by your expression that you may be overthinking this,” Mrs. Cake said. “The reason everypony is buying more candy is because all the fillies and colts are excited that they’ll get to give their candy to the real Nightmare Moon.”

“Ah, gotcha. That makes more sense,” Lyra said as Mrs. Cake returned to her work.

Lyra knew all too well of the Nightmare Night tradition where children were encouraged to present some of their collected candy to a statue of Nightmare Moon. It was supposed to be a 'thank you' gift in return for not being gobbled up. Most of the other children had laughed and used it as a reason to go door-to-door for a second run, but for Lyra, sacrificing even a portion of her candy had always been the saddest part of the holiday for her. True, while not being gobbled up should be pretty high on everypony’s to-do list, dumping perfectly good candy on the ground was still an abhorrent practice.

Besides, everypony knew that Nightmare Moon didn’t really eat that candy. No, in reality, it was always eaten by ants, bears, or unscrupulous ponies that snuck in under the cover of darkness; the latter being a group Lyra knew absolutely nothing about despite any accusations of Bon Bon’s.

With the cupcake held in her magic, Lyra took a bite. She let her mind go blank and instead focused on the flavors running through her mouth. Cake and frosting blended together into a perfect harmony that sang from the moment it touched her tongue all the way to her stomach. Even the sprinkles were more just than a decoration, with every bite causing another one to burst and add its sweetness at just the right moment.

While Bon Bon’s candy was still hoofs-down the best tasting thing in the world, Lyra had to admit that Mrs. Cake’s cupcakes were a very close second.

Lyra sighed and took another bite as she remembered Bon Bon’s candy. She had really screwed up. She had told herself at the time that one was enough, that she needed to remember why it had been set out in a bowl, that while they may have tasted amazing she should probably have stopped after five, but then, the deed was done and the bowl was empty. Once she had talked with Bon Bon and realized her mistake, she knew she’d do anything to undo it.

But that was why she was here; she needed to set things right.

Then, anger came over Lyra. Anger at herself. She fiercely took her next bite.

She had actually thought about quitting.

She had actually thought it was acceptable to give up on returning home to a smiley-faced Bon Bon, who would thank her for saving the day and forgive her for any wrongdoings.

She had actually thought it would be fine to return to a disappointed, shaking-her-head Bon Bon, who would be so upset that she’d—

Lyra refused to finish that thought. She wasn’t going to quit. It didn’t matter whether this haunted house was scary, or not fun, or whatever. She was going to get back out there, make it all the way to wherever Pinkie was hiding, and get that candy.

With a fiery determination burning within her heart, Lyra finished her cupcake, turned to thank Mrs. Cake for giving her the courage to continue, and then realized that Mrs. Cake had still been speaking during that whole cupcake self-reflection thing.

“...and once we finally scraped them off the ceiling, it turned out that they really had been cherries all along!” Mrs. Cake said and erupted into laughter. She stamped the cookie cutter into the dough a few more times, but had to give up as her shoulders were shaking too badly. She stepped away from the counter, and, while wiping her eyes, turned toward Lyra.

Before Mrs. Cake could finish dabbing her eyes with her apron, Lyra put on her best amused-looking grin and acted like she was trying to hold back laughter of her own.

“Ooh,” Mrs. Cake sighed. “But don’t let Carrot know I told you that. It really was an honest mistake and I don’t want to discourage him from trying again.”

Lyra nodded. “Don’t worry, Mrs. Cake. I’ll be sure to forget everything I just heard.”

Just in time to have missed the possibly embarrassing story of himself, the kitchen doors swung open to reveal a squeaky-clean Mr. Cake. He strode proudly through the door, letting the world know that his coat was, indeed, a bright yellow and not a pale white.

“Good evening,” he greeted the room, then turned to Lyra. “You’re looking a whole lot better.”

Lyra felt a smile coming on. “You know, I think I feel better too.”

He walked up to Mrs. Cake and said softly, “I drew some more bath water if you’d like a turn.”

“Thank you. Let me finish cutting out these cookies, and I’ll get myself cleaned up.”

Lyra got up from her chair and was about to say her goodbyes when something heavy landed between her shoulders and then skittered forward to cling to her mane. All feelings of courage vanished as her brain rationalized that this was the end, that some kind of horrible abomination had escaped from deepest Tartarus and was about to drag her away to a land of eternal boredom. However, the reality of the situation turned out to be much, much worse, for Lyra then heard the noise.

Her body went rigid and her breathing momentarily stopped; she didn’t dare risk making any sudden movements. She hoped that maybe she had only been mistaken, but then she heard it again. The most terrifying sound in all existence: the giggling of a foal.

It was widely known—regrettably, so far only to herself—that children reacted badly to Lyra’s presence, and the younger a pony got, the worse that reaction became. She could still recall how those three fillies outside had scowled at her, tackled her to the ground, and disappointedly sighed in her general direction. And that had been after only a few minutes of exposure.

If Lyra remembered correctly, then the Cake’s twins were only about half a year old, easily the youngest ponies to have ever encountered her. If she didn’t do something soon, anything could happen. Crying, spit-ups, dirty diapers, the apocalypse!

Alright, well, maybe not the apocalypse, but with a foal pressing against her neck, the prospect of a dirty diaper was equally as bad.

Careful to keep her movements to a minimum, Lyra looked to Mr. Cake and whispered, “Help me.” Or at least she tried to, but it came out as more of a high-pitched “eeeee.”

Thankfully, the noise coming from Lyra’s throat must have been within the audible hearing range, because Mr. Cake’s ears perked up and he turned around.

Lyra was hoping for immediate action on his part to remedy the situation. Instead, Mr. Cake’s face scrunched up in a smile that held dangerous levels of parental pride.

“Well, it looks like somepony got out of his playpen,” Mr. Cake said as he walked forward and lowered his head to the side of Lyra’s neck.

Lyra could feel the foal’s weight shift and leave her shoulders. When Mr. Cake stepped back, he had a small, brown-and-tan pegasus perched on top of his head.

“Sorry about that,” Mr. Cake said. “Pound’s been going through a phase where he has to get on top of everything and everypony.”

Lyra slowly retreated half a step. “That’s fine. No harm done. I should probably—”

“Say!” Mr. Cake said, his face lighting up. Lyra knew that couldn’t be good. “I don’t think you’ve ever met our foals, have you?”

“Well, n-no, but—”

“No need to be shy.” Mr. Cake lowered his neck until his son was at eye-level to Lyra. “Pound? This is Lyra. Lyra? Meet Pound.”

Lyra’s chest began to feel tight as her heart rate increased. She fought to keep herself from hyperventilating. Didn’t Mr. Cake realized he was about to doom them all? Saying something would be bad, but not saying anything would be insulting.

The pegasus foal stared at Lyra with his large, curious eyes.

Lyra gulped. “H-... hi?”

Immediately, the air filled with the wailing cry of tiny lungs that were able to produce a louder noise than physics could account for. All heads turned towards the corner of the room. By standing on her tippy-hoofs, Lyra could see over some boxes of baked goods to a playpen that contained an orange-and-yellow unicorn foal, who had a constant stream of tears flowing down her cheeks.

The cookie cutter clattered to the floor as Mrs. Cake rushed across the room. “Oh, Pumpkin, sweetie! What’s wrong?”

Light peeps of a whimper came from nearby, and Lyra could see the moisture welling up in the pegasus foal’s eyes. Mr. Cake quickly took his son in his forelegs and tried to calm him, but it was too late. The pegasus’s wail rose in volume to join his sister’s.

“Uh oh...” Mrs. Cake looked up from the edge of the playpen. “Dear, Pumpkin’s made an oopsie. Can you fetch me a fresh diaper?”

“Right away, Honey,” Mr. Cake called back as he continued to rock his son ineffectively. He turned to Lyra. “Sorry, but things have gotten busy again.”

“No problem. Duty calls. I completely understand,” Lyra said as she calmly backtracked in what she hoped was the direction of the exit. “I’ll get out of your mane. Good luck. See you tomorrow. I can’t wait to taste that truffle cake.” As soon she felt her tail brush up against the door, she spun around and dashed through it.

Safely back in the buffet, Lyra shut the plank-covered door, slid closed the curtains, and heaved a heavy sigh of relief. Two crying foals and one dirty diaper. That had actually gone better than she thought it would.

Lyra looked across the room. The skeletons were obviously still ashamed of what they had done, since they hadn’t moved an inch since she had left. She turned her nose up as she trotted down the buffet table towards the second set of stairs. It served them right, as far as she was concerned.

Once at the stairs, she crept forward until her head was just past the banister and peered upwards. Nothing was waiting for her at the top this time. Which was good, as word must have gotten around, sending all the upstairs skeletons into hiding lest they suffer the wrath of Lyra’s scolding.

Now that she had taken the time to calm down, Lyra could see that all the decorative bits and baubles that she had passed earlier had in fact been decorative bits, baubles, and a painting. Lyra looked up at the life-sized portrait of Pinkie Pie, which hung at the bottom on the stairs.

The plaque beneath the portrait read, Count Pinkamena Diane Pie. Pinkie sat in a comfortable looking chair and was dressed in a black coat, a white shirt with a ruffled collar, and a black cape. Her eyelids were half-closed and she wore a slight frown on her face. Even doing it for her haunted house, Lyra guessed that Pinkie must have been bored out of her mind sitting still long enough to have a painting made.

As Lyra started to move to the next decoration, she caught sight of something out of the corner of her eye and quickly looked back to the portrait’s face. She was certain that Pinkie had just stuck her tongue out, but the bored expression on her face hadn’t changed one bit. Lyra glared at the painting, daring it to do something, but nothing happened. Shaking her head, she continued upward.

The rest of the decorations consisted of things like masks making scary faces, necklaces with miniature skulls, and brass carvings depicting ponies in unfortunate circumstances, such as running from a boulder, slipping on a banana peel, or both. Lyra stopped to stare at the last carving. This one depicted a unicorn tied up in a cauldron of water and a warty witch cackling nearby. With the way the polished brass reflected light, the unicorn appeared to be an all-too-familiar shade of green. Lyra hurried up the remaining steps.

At the top of the stairs, the spooky decorations abruptly ended and were replaced with seemingly normal ones like a framed, family photo of the Cakes and a small table with a vase of flowers. Lyra began to wonder if she had somehow missed a turn when she noticed the standing sign in the middle of the hallway. The sign read ‘Haunted house this way’ and had an arrow pointing at a door to the left. Lyra nodded. It made sense that most of the upstairs would be unchanged since the Cakes and their twins still had to live up here.

Just as Lyra lifted a hoof to step forward, a light flashed so brightly that she had to cover her eyes. As she stood there blinded, she could only listen to the cacophony of noise around her. Wood cracked and splintered, glass shattered into a thousand tinkling pieces, heavy beams fell to the ground with booming thuds. Through it all was a horrible, howling wind that reminded her of when the pegasi had created a tornado to lift water to Cloudsdale. Except this was louder and she was in the center of it.

Slowly, the noise of destruction faded until all that was left were the pops and crackles of nearby flames. Lyra opened her eyes, blinking away the afterimage of the light, then felt them widen. The hallway was gone. Sugarcube Corner was gone. Most of Ponyville was gone!

Giant balls of fire streaked across a dark-red sky, leaving behind smoking contrails. The earth had split open in several places, creating miles-long fissures that spewed forth fire of their own. The few buildings left standing in the ruined town showed structural damage, and it wouldn’t be long before they collapsed as well. Try as she might, Lyra couldn’t make out the forms of any other ponies. Either they had gotten away to safety before the disaster had struck, or the smoke and debris hid the reality from her.

Lyra peered over the edge before her, into the flaming wreckage below, then stepped back to stare out at the broken landscape around her. Finally, she rolled her eyes.

“Yes, Twilight,” she deadpanned, “your illusion is so amazingly realistic. Truly, your skill at magic is without equal.”

She shook her head and waved a hoof over the platform beneath her. “Did you honestly expect me to believe that these stairs I’m standing on could somehow be the only thing in Sugarcube Corner to survive something like this? That I’m so amazingly lucky that I’d be miraculously untouched? That I wouldn’t have—oh, I don’t know, felt the earth rumbling, or the wind blowing, or something?”

Lyra smirked. “I’ll give you an ‘A’ for effort. Rarity too, if she helped. I admit this looks like a pretty convincing end of the world. Keyword being ‘looks.’”

She waited for a few seconds, but the illusion didn’t fade. It was probably on a timer or something. Still, she had done enough stalling today and needed to pick up the pace if she was ever going to get to the party on time. The door she needed to go through had been close by, so she could probably feel her way along the invisible wall to find the handle.

Chuckling to herself, she stepped over the edge, only to have her hoof pass through where the floor should have been.

Lyra’s brain processed this new information instantly. It told her that, despite it making no logical sense, there really was no floor in front of her. She had been so sure of the illusion that she had committed herself to stepping off this cliff. With her current momentum and forward-shifted center of gravity, any attempt at scrambling backwards would be futile and only prolong the inevitable. She had just made the final mistake of her life and was now going to be falling into the flames below.

Then, a split-second after her brain told her all this, her hoof struck solid ground.

The illusion warped and melted away like sidewalk chalk caught in the rain, and soon Lyra was back in the ordinary hallway as if nothing had happened.

It was true: nothing had happened. She was safe. And yet, Lyra still had to make a conscious effort to remind herself to breathe.

There were a thousand different things that should have been going through her mind at the moment, but instead, she only found herself wondering why her rear hooves were higher off the ground than her front. She glanced back at them to find that her hindquarters were standing atop a wide wooden block. She was certain that block hadn’t been there before; it was far too noticeable. There was only one conclusion for it.

“A double illusion,” Lyra said weakly as she stepped off the block. She tried to laugh but her shaky breathing made it difficult. Instead, it was much easier to growl. She gritted her teeth, shut her eyes, and felt her forehead heating up.

“This is! I mean! Argh!”

Lyra stomped up to the door. This haunted house was making a fool of her. It wanted to be scary? Fine. But she could be scary right back.

“Alright, door!” she yelled, jabbing out a hoof to prod the door harder than necessary. “Let’s get this clear. You do anything other than open normally and you’ll never open normally again. Got that?”

She pressed down on the handle. The door wisely chose to open normally.

“That’s right. Not so tough now, are you?”

Lyra barked a laugh as she strode into the next room. She had this. In a matter of minutes, this haunted house would be so terrified that it’d be begging for her to leave.

But Lyra wasn’t leaving. Not without that candy.