“That’s why the light is gray!” Twilight said at once, hit by a sudden revelation. “And why it takes more energy! I didn’t think about it because it never matters, but magic does work differently on other planets! It’s harder for me because we’re not in Equestria anymore! Or anywhere else on the plane! We’re on the moon, Rainbow! We’re really on the moon!”

For a few moments, her fear was replaced entirely by the sense of discovery, the rush of euphoria. No unicorn was powerful enough to borrow space from the moon. This went far above her own abilities. Above Celestia’s. But the tower had done it. Here they were, perhaps the first mortals in history to literally be on the moon! On the moon!

“And you know what else this means? It means there is a limit to how far the world is actually fooled! It’s an open question in magic theory whether the world knows on some level that the new map isn’t real, and the consensus is that, no, the deception is perfect. But it isn’t! This is proof! Not even the tower can fool the world perfectly. Rainbow, this is huge!”

“Twilight,” Rainbow said, her voice tense and worried, and also quiet. “I get it. But... we don’t know what’s in here. Don’t be so... loud.”

At once, the fear came back, and Twilight almost wanted to bite off her own tongue. She was so stupid. The second she had found out something exciting, she had thrown all precaution overboard. Who cared if they had found new revelations if they didn’t make it out of here? Teleportation from the inside was still at least partially blocked, their supplies were still gone, and they still had no idea what might be in here.

Worse. It might be a huge discovery, but it was bad for them. If the space was taken from the moon, then there was barely a practical limit to how large the tower might be... actually no, that was not quite right. The limit would be the maximum distance that space needed to have with matter in order for the spell to work. How large was that... four miles? It was a constant figure. But it was also a boring, pointless, theoretical number that never mattered and Celestia help her she had actually forgotten it. How could she have known that it would end up being important?

“I’m an idiot and I’m sorry,” Twilight whispered. Rainbow had halted, now hovering on the spot. “Rainbow, how far do you think we’ve flown so far?”

“Three or four miles,” Rainbow replied. “Why?”

“I’m thinking how large this thing can be. I told you there’s a limit to how far you can get away from matter. But... argh! I forgot the exact number! I’m such an idiot! I think it was four-point-something.”

“Miles?”

“Yeah.”

“So we’re almost there?” Rainbow asked, while the gears already spun further in Twilight’s head. “No, wait! Wouldn’t that mean the tower is that high, not that wide? Shouldn’t it be much smaller, then?”

“It must be flipped,” Twilight murmured. “The real tower is twenty-one yards tall, two-and-a-half yards wide. If you imagine a cylindric shape like that put up straight on the moon... then the tower would be as high as the distance you can have from the surface. So twenty-one yards correspond to, let’s say, four-and-a-half miles, that means two-and-a-half yards correspond to... just around half a mile. We’d already be on the other side. But if you lay down the cylinder, its diameter will be four-and-a-half miles, but it’ll be much higher, and-”

Twilight stopped talking as she realized yet another mistake. Rainbow must have felt that something wasn’t right.

“Twilight?”

“Crap,” Twilight whispered. “It’s the moon. The number, four-point-something, it’s anti-proportional to the gravity of the celestial body squared. The gravity on the moon...”

For a moment, Twilight thought she had forgotten that number too, but then she remembered. Once, over a decade ago, she had looked it up herself.

“... sixteen percent of what it is here. So it is... roughly one sixth. That means it’s not four-and-a-half miles, it’s... thirty-six times that. Over one-hundred-and-sixty miles.”

“Oh,” Rainbow said, and now Twilight could hear the fear in her voice. “That’s far.”

And as if the news were too much for her to stomach, she descended back to the ground, allowing Twilight to climb off.

“You can’t do that,” Twilight whispered, “right?”

“I...” Rainbow gulped. “It’s so far...”

A few moments passed in perfect silence.

“... I can fly seventy miles per hour, under good conditions. But... not while carrying you. And not forever. And not if I have to fly so slow.”

“Uhm,” Twilight made as she realized she had forgotten yet another factor: the moon’s curvature. Doing a few quick calculations, though, she realized that it made next to no difference. “We don’t know if it’s that far,” she said instead. “We don’t even know if flying to the other side is what we need to do.”

“We might be trapped anyway.”

The words sent a surge of guilt through Twilight’s breast, but she didn’t show it.

“Yeah.”

“But you think we should try?”

“Only if we have a realistic chance. But if we crash...”

“You’re the unicorn. Find a solution.”

Twilight nodded, quickly considering a number of possibilities. A much brighter light? Unsustainable. Sensing for things constantly? Less costly, still far from possible. Summoning a small piece of energy with a link back to her, and keeping it at a reasonable distance, so she would know if it hit the wall first, and could warn Rainbow in time? It took her a few seconds to dismiss this one. Judging by how much harder magic was for her here, she’d probably be able to sustain it for about one hour – if that.

She needed something better. Better by a factor of about ten.

“... Twilight?” Rainbow’s voice reached her. “Twi? Can you make light again? It’s so creepy to see nothing. You could have disappeared and I wouldn’t notice.”

“Sorry,” Twilight said, redoing her spell. “I’ve been thinking about how to do this.”

“... and?”

“It’s really hard. I only have one idea that can work, and it’s... not a good one.”

“What is it?”

“I could cast a preemptive shield to lessen the impact,” Twilight said reluctantly. “We would still crash into the wall, but the impact would be lighter. Judging by how much harder magic is for me here, it would also take a lot of energy at once when we use it.”

“... can’t you just prevent the crash?”

“I don’t think so. I’m sorry, Rainbow. But I can’t think of anything. I don’t think there is a spell I could sustain for more than an hour that would do the trick.”

“One hour is not enough.”

“I know.”

“Why does it have to be one-sixty?” Rainbow asked, her voice sounding dull and strained. “If it were just a bit less... one-twenty I could probably do. It’d be hard but... Twilight, one-sixty is stretching it.”

Twilight had no idea what to respond. She knew that it could be even more... they didn’t know whether the wall they were at right now would lead them straight to the other side. What if they were in a maze?

... and still, what if reaching the other side wouldn’t even help?

“Okay, let’s do it. Hop on.”

Twilight felt as if she had given up all responsibility, passing it onto Rainbow. The light she cast was now even dimmer than before, in an attempt to preserve every bit of energy she had for the eventual impact. She could see almost nothing, just a blurry line of gray, while Rainbow flew at a speed she could only even judge by the feeling of air against her skin. They didn’t talk anymore; the last thing Twilight wanted was to burden the pegasus further.

Every once in awhile, she checked whether teleportation access was still blocked, and every time, the result was the same. Aside from that, there was nothing she could do.

Soon, Twilight realized just how long this was going to take. Doing nothing whatsoever for as much as five minutes was already tough. But for hours... and hours....

And hours...

Her thoughts drifted, double-checking whether what they had concluded was solid. She couldn’t see any mistakes. Had there been anything else she had missed? Another way to get out?

Blocking teleportation was like putting up a fence. It was always local. Even if the place to get out weren’t on the other side, bridging as much distance as possible was their best shot.

It seemed like they had to do this. And there had to be a way out. The phoenix wouldn’t have led them there if it was a journey without return.

At least, that was what Twilight wanted to believe... but she also knew that if she had gone without Rainbow, she’d have zero chances of making it... and it seemed more than a bit unlikely that he had accounted for that, too.

Twilight envied Rainbow Dash. She had no idea how long it had been by now, but she knew she would give everything to be able to fly... or in her case, run. Perhaps she was selfish to even waste a thought on how she felt being carried while their lives were at risk because of her? It was all her fault... or was it? Rainbow had decided to come by herself... the phoenix was the reason why they were here in the first place, not her... right?

Twilight pressed her eyelids together. There was no use thinking in that direction. They’d reach the end, and they’d make it out. It would just take a long, long time of her clinging to Rainbow’s back, doing nothing. Time passing in darkness.

One-hundred-and-sixty miles. That meant the tower was well over a thousand miles tall... the size of a thousand mountains...

Teleportation was still blocked.

If Rainbow realized that they wouldn’t make it, would she say something? Perhaps it was better not to ask. It could still be much shorter...

Her ears were ringing. The swooshing of wind. The gray blur. Twilight pressed her eyelids together, then reopened them. Her ears were ringing. The swooshing of wind. The gray blur. Twilight pressed her eyelids together, then reopened them. Her ears were still ringing. The swooshing of wind. The gray blur. She pressed her eyelids together, then reopened them. Her ears were ringing. The gray blur. The swooshing of wind. She pressed her eyelids together...

She realized she hadn’t checked for a teleportation route in a while. But nothing. Blocked as ever.

“I didn’t tell you to confess to him,” Twilight protested. “That was your idea.”

“You told me to do this.”

“I told you the opposite! I said don’t let all of your happiness depend on it!”

“Well, buh-huh.” Fluttershy gave a sly smile. “You don’t get to dictate my happiness, Twily.”

“Don’t call me that, please.”

“No?” Fluttershy walked over to a bookshelf, pulling one out at random. “Am I not as pretty as your brother?”

“What?” Twilight walked over, trying to discern the book’s cover.

“Lust?” Fluttershy said. “How come you never asked him, Twilight?”

‘Daring Do and the Towering Mountains.’

“... asked him what?”

Fluttershy closed her lips, blowing a silent kiss into the air.

“You!” Twilight took the book out of her grasp, furious. “That’s ridiculous! And this is mine! Don’t touch my books!”

“I hate Daring Do, anyway,” Fluttershy said. “Did your brother read it to you when you were young?”

“This is ridiculous!” Twilight repeated. “He’s my brother! And I’m into mares!”

“Hah!” Eagle Eye made. “Mares or not, you haven’t found anypony so far.”

Twilight heard a sob. A row behind Eagle Eye, Fluttershy lay under a table.

“I don’t care what you think,” Twilight murmured, stepping on top of the row in front of her. There was something written on the board at the end of the classroom, but she couldn’t discern it. She stepped back onto the floor, heading for Fluttershy.

“I didn’t know,” she whispered as Twilight got close. “I didn’t know. I’m so sorry. I wouldn’t have bothered you all this time.”

“What do you mean?”

“I always liked you, Twilight. I thought that one day, we... but...”

“Oh.”

“I didn’t know. I’m. sorry. But if you like mares, then we’ll never be together...”

I’m sorry,” Twilight murmured. “But we should really sit down again. The teacher might notice.”

Fluttershy responded something, then Twilight woke up at an instant.

“Ohmygoshohmygosh!” she shrieked, her heart racing. “Rainbow!”

She could feel the stream of air lessening. Then, she could feel them descent. Only now did she notice Rainbow’s quick, shallow breathing.

“I’ve fallen asleep!” Twilight climbed off, still not believing what had happened. “I’ve fallen asleep. I’ve actually fallen asleep. If we had hit something... how long has it been?”

No response. Twilight brightened her light. Rainbow was standing beside her, her entire body slick with sweat. She only shook her head.

“Oh, yeez! Didn’t you notice? Didn’t the light go out?”

Rainbow shook her head again. So she had kept it up during her sleep. Well, that could happen. It had something to do with different parts of the brain and subconsciousness or something. Twilight didn’t remember.

How long had she been awake? It was so hard to judge, but her guess was over two hours.

And how long had she been asleep?

“Long,” Rainbow murmured. “Six hours... maybe.”

Six hours. Twilight shuddered. She must have been asleep for over half of it.

“How are you?” She asked carefully.

“I’m okay,” Rainbow murmured, and Twilight felt a wave of relief. “But I need a break. A real break.” She leaned herself against the wall, slowly sliding downward. “Half an hour... or maybe a bit more... then we can go further.”

“How fast do you think you’ve been?”

“Fifteen, maybe. It’s... so much harder while carrying... another pony.”

Twilight sat down beside her, and Rainbow shifted around, changing into a lying position. She said something too muffled for Twilight to understand.

“Uhm, come again?”

“You’re my pillow,” Rainbow repeated, resting her head against Twilight’s leg. “Try to be as soft as a cloud, okay?”

“Rainbow?” Twilight asked after the time passed seemed to be around an hour – though once more, she couldn’t be certain. “Are you awake?”

“I’m now.”

“So you got some sleep?”

“Slept like four different times. Drifting in and out. Dreamt of... Fluttershy...”

“Oh,” Twilight said, “I did, too.”

“Did she also raise an army of bears to fight off Chrysalis?”

“No.”

“I’d have liked to see the end of that one. Would have been... awesome...” Twilight could feel the weight from her body lifting as Rainbow was standing up. She recast her light which she’d been putting out to give her the chance to actually sleep.

“What did she do in your dream?”

“Uhm. She was really mean and implied I had a crush on my brother. When I told her I’m not even into stallions, she suddenly wasn’t Fluttershy anymore but a filly out of my old class whom I hated. We were also in school now and Fluttershy was lying under the tables a row before us. When I went up to her, she said she’s always liked me, but since she likes stallions and I like mares, we could never be together. Then I woke up.”

“Makes sense.”

“Yeah.”

Twilight was sure that normally, they’d both laugh now. But things were still pretty far from normal.

“In another,” Rainbow recited, “I was talking to Rarity and... she said she couldn’t come with us into the tower because the tower wasn’t... in.”

“Like, fashionable?”

“Yeah. She said it’s summer season now and going in with us would be bad for business.“

“Well,” Twilight said, “if she never came out again, that would be pretty bad for her business.”

She didn’t know why she had said that. Something about the tower must have driven her to make this morbid joke.

“Yeez, Twilight. Way to ruin the fun.”

“Sorry.”

“Alright. Hop on.”

“If you’ve flown fifteen miles per hour for six hours-”

“-we’ve got sixty miles left,” Rainbow completed her sentence. “Yeah, I know. Don’t fall asleep this time,” she added as Twilight climbed on. “Or we might actually crash.”

“I’ll try.”

Staying awake was easier this time, but the flight was no less monotone, and no less frightening. At one point, Twilight wondered what would happen if something were to attack them. She had stopped being afraid of that, just because it hadn’t happened so far, but that was far from a guarantee that this place was actually empty... given how massive it was, and how little of it they saw, there could be hordes of monsters in here, only waiting for them to get tired... Twilight might tell herself that it was unthinkable for any creature to live inside of this place, but she was past the point where guarantees of this nature were fully convincing. The level of magic that was at work here was so far beyond what she was used to that the only true boundaries still remaining were the fundamental laws of magic, or perhaps not even those. After all, everything had begun with her letter to Celestia, observing that their precious laws were repeatedly being broken...

At least so far, the tower hadn’t demonstrated that kind of ability. It had shown enormous power, no doubt, but nothing strictly supernatural. She hoped it would stay that way.

Twilight felt as though her vision was getting blurry, even though it was near-impossible to tell. With strained eyes, she kept staring ahead, wondering how Rainbow might feel at the moment. How was this experience for her? How afraid was she? Had she ever asked this much of her own body before? How close was she to total exhaustion?

There was one part of their preparations which had seemed a bit silly at the time. Even though they had expected the tower’s insides to be relatively small, and even though they had packed plenty of supplies, Twilight had argued that, just in case, they should make sure to eat a decent meal before going in – and, more importantly, to drink a lot. It had seemed so negligible that she’d almost skipped out on it. Almost. But not quite. Now, it seemed as if that decision might save both of their lives. If they had entered the tower in worse conditions, Rainbow would probably have given up already.

Once again, Twilight checked for teleportation access. Nothing.

“Your trust in the phoenix seems misplaced,” Rarity’s voice said in her head.

“One percent is significant when it comes to your survival.”

“You are acting irresponsibly, or dare I say, irrationally?”

Rarity had said all that. Had she been right? Had Twilight been irresponsible? Irrational? Foolish? Naive? ... obsessed?

She had always felt grateful for Rarity’s pushback. Almost as a way to justify her actions to herself: if she decided to go through despite Rarity’s concerns, surely her decisions must be well-reasoned. Another thing that was irrational at best.

Twilight knew her judgment was flawed. It had improved those past months, and as it was so often, that had just made her realize how flawed it was to begin with. But so was Rarity’s. It was so hard to know anything.

Teleportation access was still blocked.

“Need a break,” Rainbow’s voice reached her. Only then did Twilight realize that the pegasus had already slowed down, merely gliding now, using up their remaining speed.

This time, the landing was a bit less smooth than before. Twilight took it as a bad sign.

“Exhausted,” Rainbow murmured. “And... thirsty. Thank Celestia... we followed your advice, Twilight.”

“It won’t be far anymore,” Twilight whispered. Rainbow nodded, sinking down into a heap near the wall.

“Should I wake you again?”

“Don’t think I’ll sleep. Not tired. Just... exhausted.”

“Okay.” Twilight sat down beside her.

“You think about,” Rainbow began, but the rest of her sentence was too quiet for Twilight to understand.

“Sorry?”

“Do you think about... romance stuff a lot?”

“Oh. Um, not really.”

“It appeared in your dream.”

“It does occasionally,” Twilight said truthfully. “Often in a strange way. Like this last one. I think that’s natural.”

“Hasn’t appeared in mine for years.”

“You’re not normal.”

Rainbow made a sound that was somewhere between a cough and a giggle.

“Do you like Fluttershy?”

“I don’t think so,” Twilight said, who wasn’t sure why Rainbow had started this topic, or whether she should be concerned. “When I heard it worked out between her and Autumn Leaf, I was a bit envious, but I’m... not attracted to her like that.”

“I was really happy for her.”

“I’m too.”

“Then why be jealous?”

“Envious,” Twilight corrected. “I can feel two things at once, Rainbow.”

“Okay, but why?”

“Uhm, I think I always – well, since I came here at least – imagined that there might one day happen something more between me and... another one of us six... but I rarely thought about it... consciously.”

“‘Another one of us six’?”

Twilight hesitated. “I guess Fluttershy or Rarity.”

“Well,” Rainbow said, “Fluttershy’s taken.”

“I know.”

“And not into mares.”

“I know. Rainbow, are you okay?”

For a while, Rainbow didn’t respond.

“No.”

Twilight looked at her. Her mane had lost all of its elegance, hanging down wet from her face. She herself probably didn’t look much better.

“I never want to fly again.”

Something changed. They had kept together well so far. Rainbow better than her. Had shouldered the impossible, flown them for all those hours. But now...

“Now you’re scaring me.”

“I’m so... thirsty, Twilight. You’re not supposed to fly so far without-”

“We shouldn’t talk, then,” Twilight whispered. Rainbow said nothing.

“You’ve made it so far. That had to have been over two hours. Only thirty miles left... or even less than that.”

“Twilight,” Rainbow said, “we both know that’s our wishes talking. For all we know, we’ve flown in a circle.”

It had probably been like this before, but Twilight only noticed now that the pegasus’ voice sounded raspier than normal. She could only imagine the sheer amount she had sweat so far, and the thirst would only grow stronger from now on.

Rainbow was approaching her limit. If they had flown in a circle, if the remaining distance was anything close to what they had already flown, she wouldn’t make it. Twilight knew it.

“But you can-”

“Doesn’t matter,” Rainbow murmured. “I’ll try, anyway. Just give me some time.”

They flew again.

After a while, Twilight began to wonder what they’d do if Rainbow didn’t make it. If the end was too far, or not there at all. Even if they eventually died of thirst, that was still a long way off. Several days, presumably. If the others stuck to the plan and waited three days to do something, perhaps they should try to last as long as possible? There were... ways to prolong life in the face of thirst or hunger. Twilight had never done it, but she knew how it worked in theory. If she was successful, three days should be possible for Rainbow. She herself probably wouldn’t even need it.

But what then?

There was one thought so morbid that Twilight had so far avoided to think it verbally, even though her mind had already formulated it in its own way. The absolute worst outcome would be for her friends to notify the princess, and for the princess to enter the tower, only to be trapped forever. In that case, Twilight would have done more damage to Equestria than anypony before her.

Would Celestia risk it?

Probably not. It would not be wise. But Twilight wasn’t sure.

... enough. They would make it out, and if not, Peewee would come after them himself. He owed it to her.

Steering her thoughts away, Twilight checked for teleportation access. Blocked.

Twilight wondered whether Rainbow was blaming her.

She remembered the talk they had had after their initial set of experiments. Rainbow had been wanting to come with her from the get-go. Had been curious. Had wanted to know what was inside.

And now, they still didn’t know. Not really. They knew it was massive – far larger than they had anticipated – but they didn’t know if anything was in here. Or... why. What purpose the tower had. How it had come to be.

One thing was certain: trapping them so they’d never find out wasn’t a valid explanation. There still needed to be a reason, regardless of whether anyone found out.

What a bizarre thought to have. Twilight shuddered.

Observing herself, it seemed as if she wasn’t expecting them to make it out anymore. But that was irrational. They hadn’t flown past the point Twilight had calculated yet. On the contrary, they ought to be close now, so their odds should be better, not worse.

She checked for teleportation access. Blocked.

Twilight only realized what had happened a good second after they were being thrust through the air. The impact had been soft, barely noticeable, her spell propelling them backwards, like a pinball. Rainbow screamed in shock, pressing her wings through to regain balance, while Twilight was overcome with exhaustion.

Then everything went dark.

Twilight opened her eyes.

... they had hit a wall.

Where was Rainbow?

Had she left?

A surge of panic shot through her heart. For a few seconds, she had no idea what to do, until she realized that she could make light.

“Twilight!” Rainbow was standing beside her.

A wave of relief. Twilight realized she was lying. She stood up.

“How long have I been out?”

“Just a few minutes. What happened?”

“I overestimated how much force our impact would have. And I underestimated how much energy it would cost. I should have... gone for a much lighter shield. Thank Celestia I didn’t overdo it even more.”

“I didn’t know it would bounce us off like that. I thought we would just crash and it wouldn’t hurt as much or something.”

“I didn’t know, either,” Twilight said truthfully. “I haven’t used this spell in years.”

“Oh.” Then, “doesn’t matter now. So can you-”

But Twilight interrupted her. “Look.”

At the spot where the wall bent, there was a door-shaped hole.

“Twilight,” Rainbow hissed, “can you teleport now or not?”

Twilight gulped. Their lives might depend on the answer to this question. But after so many times, how were the odds that it was free here?

Closing her eyes, expecting the worst, Twilight checked.

...

!!!

“It’s free! It’s free!”

Rainbow let out a long breath.

“Alright,” she said, “then let’s get out of here.”

Twilight hesitated.

“Twilight! We’ve been here for long enough! Let’s get out while we still can!”

Twilight had never felt intimidated by Rainbow Dash before. Not really. But now she did. The fact that her voice was more than a little raspy didn’t help.

“Rainbow...” she said cautiously.

“Twilight, for Celestia’s sake! Don’t tell me you’re thinking about staying longer! Get us out!”

“No!”

“What?”

“Rainbow, first of all, we can teleport now, alright? It won’t just go away.”

“How do you know that?” Twilight wanted to respond, but Rainbow didn’t give her a chance. “This is all freaky, right? Totally out of normal bounds. You don’t know crap!”

“Actually no, it’s been following laws quite nicely! It’s just really powerful! But didn’t I tell you in advance how large it would be and-”

“Twilight,” Rainbow growled, “we can have this conversation outside! Get us out!”

For a few seconds, Twilight didn’t respond, a part of her wondering whether Rainbow would start attacking her.

“Rainbow Dash,” she said eventually. “You’ve been amazing. Really amazing. Without you, I wouldn’t have had a chance to make it out. You never blamed me. You reacted great to everything. You were always constructive. But right now, you’re being stupid. And we’re not making stupid decisions. Not when I can avoid it. We’re going to do the smart thing, no matter how much we want to get out of here.”

“How is it smart to stay here for longer?”

“For one, because I can set up an anchor to teleport us here in the future.”

“Why would you-” But Rainbow interrupted herself. When she spoke again, Twilight was relieved to hear that her rush of anger seemed to have receded. “Shouldn’t you have done that earlier?”

“Maybe... but probably not. It takes a lot of energy.”

“And why would you need it now?”

“Because, if we ever decide to come back, it would be nice not to have to fly one-hundred-and-sixty miles only to get back out.”

Rainbow sighed. “I want to get out, Twilight. But fine. How long do you need?”

“A while. I just overexerted myself. I need to recharge.”

“How long is ‘a while?’”

“Twenty minutes?”

Rainbow groaned. “Twilight, you’re killing me. Fine.”

“You don’t seem that exhausted.”

Twilight had been pacing around. She sighed.

“Rainbow, it’s like exhausting one specific muscle. If you make pushups or whatever. You’ll exhaust your front hooves, but the rest is fine.”

“It’s not even like that,” Rainbow murmured, but didn’t say anything else. A few more minutes passed, then she stood up.

“Don’t you want to go through there at all?” She made a gesture of the hole.

“We shouldn’t go too far away,” Twilight said carefully. “I would be okay with leaving it be for now. It’s probably more of the same. I doubt that we-”

She interrupted herself as Rainbow walked over, taking a step through the hole.

“Woah!”

At once, Twilight got up, rushing next to her. Rainbow was still standing inside the entrance, which was too narrow for more than one pony to fit, and she couldn’t see anything from her current position.

“What?”

Rainbow took a step back. “See for yourself.”

More than a little nervous, Twilight took a step through the hole, immediately realizing what Rainbow had seen.

It was bright. At least it was bright for them, with their eyes adjusted to near-total darkness. There was no apparent source of light, but she could still see, and the wall... it wasn’t flat like the part they had been in; instead, there were countless bizarre forms, shapes, whatever protruding out and into the wall. It looked totally chaotic, and totally random. And unnatural.

Then she saw something else. Black smoke or... or dust, or something, or a swarm of tiny insects, it was moving through the air dozens of yards away, and everything went back to darkness the moment she stepped back in front of the entrance.

“I have no idea what this is,” she whispered, realizing how fast her heart was beating. “Was the black floating thing there when you looked?”

“What? No.”

Rainbow was making a step towards the entrance, but Twilight immediately held her back.

“Don’t!”

She had been shrieking it, and yet attempting to keep her voice down as far as possible.

“... why?”

“It’s moving,” Twilight said. “It could... let’s not risk it. Let’s not risk anything. Let’s stay here, until I can cast the anchor, and then get out as you wanted.”

“Couldn’t it also come through here?”

Twilight bit her lip. Hard.

“I can teleport us out quickly. I won’t just leave without doing the anchor. Let’s just get a bit further back.”

In the end, they waited for what felt like half an hour. Twilight wanted to make sure not to pass out again.

She lit her horn. She cast the anchor. She could feel it sucking energy out of her, but she was strong enough. Then she focused on the anchor in the library, on the route that was now finally free.

They disappeared.

“Twilight! Rainbow! Y’all look terrible!”

Author's Note

This is now this story’s theme song: