In the dead of night, a young mayor made her way up a hill several miles from her hometown.
The lake by Whyte Tail Woods wasn't oft-visited. Scenic as it was, beneath the lake's surface lay an abundance of hungry leeches that made swimming or fishing quite impossible. Those few who did bother to visit it rarely did so at night, since the lake's only real attraction was how beautiful its water would be under blue skies.
So why, the Mayor idly wondered, was she visiting now? The moon was high in the sky, and Ponyville would in just a week or so be buried under snow. It was cold, and she was tired.
As she reached the hill's peak, though, she was reminded of her purpose. A purple earth pony mare sat at the very top, staring intently through a tripod-mounted spyglass.
Mayor Mare cocked her head. “Cheerilee?”
“Eek!” Cheerilee gave a jolt and fell onto her back. She looked up, now lying right before Mayor Mare, and gave a guilty smile. “Oh! Good evening, Mayor!”
The Mayor scowled, offering Cheerilee a hoof. “Exactly what is going on up here?”
“Oh...” Cheerilee took the hoof, getting back up. She went back to staring through the spyglass as if nothing had happened.
Mayor Mare waited a moment, then stomped her hoof. “Cheerilee!”
“Oh! Sorry.” Cheerilee didn't look away from the spyglass. “I just can't risk missing anything, Mayor.”
“Missing what?” Mayor Mare peered over the lake in the direction the spyglass indicated. She could scarcely even make out the opposite shore.
Cheerilee looked up for a moment, then stepped aside. “Here, take a look.”
The Mayor closed one eye and leaned down.
Looking into the spyglass, she was able to make out the other side of the lake and a good ways beyond. But whatever she was supposed to be looking at was completely blurred out. The spyglass's range simply wasn't great enough.
She was reaching up to adjust the lens when she felt something grab her hoof. She looked up to see Cheerilee glaring at her. “Don't.”
Mayor Mare frowned. “But the lens can't make out a thing. You need to use a stronger—”
“That's the strongest setting there is.” Cheerilee gently pushed the Mayor aside and resumed her vigil. “And this is Twilight's telescope. Whatever's out there, this is the best we'll get.”
“Whatever's—” Mayor Mare rubbed her weary eyes. “Cheerilee, what are you looking for?”
Cheerilee didn't look away this time. “Sparks.”
Two Hours Ago...
The world was dying.
Cheerilee looked around, choking on ash and smoke. She heard screams, but couldn't see their sources. She saw the silhouettes of hundreds of pegasus ponies far above—but nothing more, for the smoke obscured all else. They were flying towards something massive.
She ran over hot cinders—the very ground was aflame, but it barely hurt her—and found herself at the doors to the schoolhouse. After a moment's hesitance, she opened the door.
Inside were four alicorns, a draconequus, and an ancient unicorn she recognized from her more obscure history books: Starswirl the Bearded. They looked at her for a moment without saying a word.
Starswirl cleared his throat. “If you hadn't taught them of the battles I fought,” he rasped, “none of this would have happened.”
Her eyes widened. “I didn't know!”
“You knew that material was too dark for foals,” Celestia said. “Why did you stray from standard curriculum?”
Cheerilee cringed. “I—I didn't know—”
“You should have. Are you not a teacher?”
“The significance is minimal.” Twilight raised a hoof, scowling. “If we want to appease the creature, we'll need to make a living sacrifice.”
“Agreed!” Discord said. “Somepony find Big Macintosh!”
“No! That's not—oh.”
Cheerilee lay alone in her bed. There was no apocalypse. No fire. She lay still for a moment, then opened her eyes. Her little bedroom behind the schoolhouse was dark. The clock showed it was close to midnight.
She considered going back to sleep, but not for long. Her dreams had a habit of lingering, and she had no wish to continue that little fantasy.
Instead, Cheerilee got up and went to the window. She opened it and leaned out, taking a deep breath of frigid night air. The air cooled her nerves somewhat. It had been a stupid dream—the product of yet another angry meeting with the school superintendent the day before—but an upsetting one nonetheless. She would wait a minute or so to get it out of her system, then go back to bed.
She looked up at the skies, sighing. It was a lovely night. She had a view of the land beyond the Unicorn Range, and—
She started. What was that?
The teacher squinted, staring at the horizon. A minute passed with nothing but stars and darkness.
Then she saw a little flicker. Small and short-lived, but unmistakable. An orange glint in the distance.
Cheerilee kept staring. After a moment, the flare returned. It was larger this time, though still very small. Then it happened a third time, even larger.
Cheerilee waited. The horizon was still once more. Making a quick decision, she reached over to the coat rack and grabbed her coat in her teeth.
She kicked the door open and rushed out.
“I know it sounds crazy,” Cheerilee whispered, still staring through the spyglass, “but it just...sort of called me. Something about it makes me, well...” She searched for the right word. “...scared.”
“Scared?” Mayor Mare's voice contained more than a hint of skepticism.
“As if...something's happening.” Cheerilee took a shuddering breath. “And when I got to Twilight's house to borrow her telescope, she was nowhere to be seen. And neither was the telescope! Just an empty tripod and this old spyglass.”
Mayor Mare didn't say anything.
Taking a chance, Cheerilee looked up. The Mayor looked...not skeptical. Concerned. “I haven't seen her or Spike since last week, Cheerilee. Nor Fluttershy, or...any of them, actually.” She frowned. “Perhaps you're right.”
Cheerilee went back to the spyglass. “I hope I'm not. Maybe it's just some sort of anomaly. But—” She stopped. Her eyes widened as she stared through, then looked up with her naked eye. Beside her, the Mayor seemed to have gone stiff. “What in Celestia's name is that?”
A single point in the sky had exploded into a burst of brilliant colors. The rainbows spread out in all directions, even shining faintly over the lake. For a moment, Cheerilee felt optimism. The blast was beautiful.
Then she heard the explosion. It was like a great blast of thunder, dazing her even from their distance. It was then that she recognized what this thing was, and it was at that moment that the light faded away and the sky went dark once more.
“A Sonic Rainboom,” she heard Mayor Mare say, voice filled with awe.
Cheerilee looked back through the spyglass. She could still see the colors, though they were blurry and fading fast. Soon the image was nothing but fuzzy gray once again. She looked over at Mayor Mare and pointed off toward the explosion's source, unable to speak.
It seemed the Mayor was also, for the first time, at a loss for words. She closed her mouth, giving a harrumph.
They were silent a moment. Then they turned back to the lake.
Several minutes passed. Cheerilee kept staring through her spyglass, and the Mayor just kept watching with her own eyes. Neither of them spoke.
“Hey!” somepony shouted.
Cheerilee didn't look up. “Vinyl!” she heard Mayor Mare say. “Octavia!”
“What's going on?” she heard Vinyl demand. “I wake up to find Tavi here right at my door telling me to find my old binoculars. Y'know, the ones my, like, great-great-great-uncle left me. And she leads me all the way, not even explaining—”
“Ahem. I did explain, Vinyl.” From the sounds of things, Octavia was not a morning pony. “I am aware that you would not be awoken by a foghorn activated directly outside your bedroom window, but I noticed a strange explosion. Given that this lake offers one of the few points at which one can see over the Unicorn Range—”
“Alright, alright! Geez, it's way too early to have to listen to one of your rants.”
“Too early? You stay up this late every other night!”
“Yeah, I stay up. I don't get up.”
“Please, everypony!” Mayor Mare said. “We are trying to observe this.”
“What's this?” Vinyl Scratch snapped.
Cheerilee kept her eye trained on the distant blur. “Something's happening.”
“That's right,” Mayor Mare said. “We saw—”
“No,” Cheerilee said, her voice getting unsteady, “I mean something's happening. Right now!”
Vinyl stared, jaw dropping. The horizon was changing colors—with blinding speed. She couldn't tell where green ended and blue began. It was blinking so quickly it hurt her eyes, and Vinyl normally had a pretty good tolerance for blinking lights.
It was only happening on a relatively small area on the horizon. The same area Cheerilee's spyglass was pointed at.
“What in Celestia's name?” Octavia was whispering, though Vinyl wasn't sure why. “That...I don't understand.”
The lights were blinking faster now. Suddenly, Vinyl gave a jolt.
She heard laughter.
She looked at her companions. They all looked similarly discomforted. Only Cheerilee remained focused.
Vinyl slapped herself in the head, hoping to somehow knock the laughter out. Unsurprisingly, she only succeeded in hurting her head. The laughter went on as the blinking grew faster.
“Vinyl,” Octavia's voice was trembling, “I know that laugh. You do, too.”
“What?” Vinyl closed her eyes, trying to focus on Octavia's words. “That's crazy. It's...oh, buck.” Her eyes opened wide. “Discord!”
As if in response, the laughter stopped. A moment later, the flashing colors were consumed in what looked like an explosion of darkness. The shadow spread, blotting out all light until the colors were completely gone.
“Uh...” Vinyl took a deep breath. “I don't wanna alarm anypony, but...isn't Discord supposed to be on our side now?”
“If that is so,” Octavia said, taking a step away from the hill's peak, “then what, exactly, made whatever he was doing cease?”
Vinyl was starting to get nervous. She looked at Cheerilee, who remained focused on her spyglass. “Hey! What's the big idea, teach? What are you doing out here?” She leaned in, eyes narrowing. “You must've been here before that explosion if you had time to get your little telescope set up. What's going on?”
“Vinyl, really.” Octavia rolled her eyes. “Enough.”
“I don't know anything,” Cheerilee said. “I just saw something earlier. Sparks on the...the, um...” She looked up. “...that. But much smaller.”
Vinyl looked. A great pillar of flame had risen up, though it was just a small little orange line from this far away. It rose all the way above the clouds. After a moment, another appeared. Then another. And another. Finally, there were around fifteen.
“I see something!” Cheerilee said. “They're just little specks beneath the pillars. They're...I think they're the source!”
Vinyl strained her eyes. She was having trouble—years spent wearing The Shades had left her eyesight rather stunted. She certainly couldn't see the specks Cheerilee was talking about. She did notice when the lines went diagonal, though, all pointing to a single point of darkness between them.
And she noticed when they started winking out.
After a few moments, all that remained was a single pillar. Unlike the others, this flame was a bright emerald green. It lingered, though it seemed to be getting smaller and smaller.
“What do you see?” Mayor Mare asked.
“Nothing.” Cheerilee sighed, withdrawing from the spyglass. “Just the fire. If there's a speck to match it, it's too small to make out.”
They watched in silence as Cheerilee returned to staring through the spyglass. A minute passed and the final beam finally vanished as well.
“Hey!” Vinyl and her companions—sans Cheerilee—looked over. A gray pegasus was hurtling towards their location, clutching a long, dark tube. She appeared to be flying very, very fast. She waved a hoof, eyes wide. “Gangway!”
Vinyl grabbed Octavia's mane in her teeth—eliciting a shout of disapproval—and leaped out of the landing area. They rolled down the hill as Octavia revealed a vocabulary that impressed even the jaded DJ P0n-3.
They finally stopped rolling. At the same time, they heard a crash from above.
“Oops. My bad.”
“Ditzy Doo!” Octavia snapped, getting to her hooves. She made her way up the hill, 'accidentally' knocking Vinyl back over in the process. “What is the meaning of this?”
“I brought Twilight's telescope!” Ditzy held up the tube, eying it mournfully. “I think it broke on the way, though.”
“Hold on.” Mayor Mare took a step forward, frowning. “How did you get that?”
Ditzy waved a hoof and gave a weak giggle. “Oh, I saw all these...uh, sparks, and I thought I should get a better look. Ms. Sparkle'd been nice enough to give me her telescope last week right before she left, so I took it and—”
“Where did she go?”
Octavia took the telescope from Mayor Mare and peered through it. Unfortunately, Ditzy's crash-landing had rendered it completely unusable.
“Um...she didn't say. But I told her I liked to watch stars sometimes, an'...” Ditzy frowned. “...um, she said I could borrow her telescope, since she might not be back for a while. Or, um, ever.”
She scratched her head. “An' at first, I just figured...y'know, probably just...well, I kinda made myself forget it.” She looked around, eyes rolling in opposite directions. “What do we think's going on?”
“We aren't certain.” Octavia tossed the telescope over her shoulder.
She heard an “Ow!” and a crash from lower down on the hill.
“Between the sparks,” Cheerilee said, still staring through her own spyglass as if Ditzy's crash hadn't occurred, “the Sonic Rainboom, that laughter and those pillars...”
“Yeah, plus the whole red thing.”
Octavia blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
Ditzy's right eye rolled upwards. “Y'know. That.”
Octavia looked up. Her heart stopped.
The moon had turned red. And not just rust-red—it hadn't dimmed at all. Its light had turned to the color of blood.
Little shapes were flying off of the moon.
Ditzy wasn't sure she was really seeing them or not. Sometimes her eyes played tricks on her. Once, they'd made her think there was a raging bull several miles away. In reality, it had been several yards away. That had been a bad day.
But sometimes her eyes seemed to let her see more than other ponies saw. Shapes were flying off the moon. Like wriggling tadpoles, or tiny insects. They were pure white, and there were hundreds of them. They'd left the moon by now—indeed, they'd cleared it long before Ditzy had arrived at the lake—and were flying straight towards the point at which everything seemed to be happening.
Ditzy glanced at the others. They were still focused on the moon. Why couldn't they see the real action?
She looked back to the horizon as the white shapes arrived. A bubble of darkness emerged, and the shapes began colliding with it. Most of them instantly vanished. A few shattered against it. Some seemed to get through.
The bubble reminded her of the burst from earlier that had swallowed up the flashing lights. At the time, she'd been relieved—the lights had been triggering her epilepsy. But now she was starting to wonder whether the darkness was such a good thing after all.
Ditzy sighed. There was no way to know, and she wasn't one to obsess over what she couldn't change. The action was many leagues away, and she was in quiet Ponyville, next to...
She glanced over. What are they arguing about now? Vinyl Scratch was levitating a large branch in the air, at the end of which clung a disconcerted woodpecker. Octavia was trying to take the branch away, and Mayor Mare was shouting something indistinct.
Ditzy was very good at tuning ponies out.
She looked between her companions and the horizon, then waved a hoof. “Hey, everypony! Look at the stars!”
They had begun to glow brighter. Ditzy had a feeling that that was no hallucination. Judging by the shocked murmurings that followed, her sense was correct.
Cheerilee looked to the sky, then back to her spyglass. The strange burst of darkness had gone. For a moment it had seemed like there was something else—specks of white shattering against the gloom—but perhaps that had only been a trick of the light.
Speaking of which, the stars were definitely intensifying in glow. Cheerilee scolded herself on letting Ditzy, of all ponies, notice them first. She'd been too focused on the blurry image in her spyglass to see what was right over her head.
“They don't appear to be ceasing,” Octavia whispered. “Their luminance continues to increase. What could be causing this?”
“I'm really not sure,” Mayor Mare said. “Cheerilee? Do you see anything?”
“I'm...afraid not.” Cheerilee looked up from her spyglass, scowling. She turned, crouched, and bucked the spyglass, tripod-and-all, off the hill and into the lake. She stomped her hoof. “That spyglass has yet to show me a thing. I don't know why I bothered bringing it.”
“Well, you did see those specks by the fires,” Vinyl said. For some reason, a woodpecker was now perched on her head.
“Yeah, I guess so.” Cheerilee frowned, looking down at the lake. The tripod and spyglass had already gone under. “Maybe that was a little, um, premature.”
“It's three in the morning,” Mayor Mare said. She put a hoof on Cheerilee's shoulder, looking around. “I know you're all worried—and I am, too—but staying up all night watching for ghosts in the sky is not going to help anypony.” She shrugged, looking back toward Ponyville. “Perhaps we should all go to bed and discuss this in the mor—”
“Look!”
They all turned. A little gray unicorn filly was bouncing toward them and pointing toward the lake. She tripped, did a somersault, and kept running. “Look! Look! Look!”
“Dinky!” Ditzy trotted down to meet her daughter, frowning. “It's way past your bedtime, you know.”
“Sorry, sorry!” Dinky waved her hoof, still pointing. “But look! Just look!”
Cheerilee looked. For the seventh time that night, she did a double-take.
At first, it had seemed ordinary. The same dark horizon as ever—though less blurry, now that she was no longer relying on a cheap spyglass.
Then it flashed pink.
Then it flashed blue.
Then pink-and-blue, pink-and-blue. Cheerilee watched, mouth hanging open. Again, she heard laughter, but more pleasant this time. It, too, she recognized.
And because she recognized and liked the laughter, it was all the more jarring when it cut off. The flashes stopped.
Cheerilee stared at the darkness. A moment later, it started flashing red and cyan. That cut off faster. Then yellow and pink. That lasted a bit longer, then cut out as well. A solid orange held out a while, but slowly began to dim until it could no longer be seen. White and purple—instantly cut off.
Every time the flashing started, she felt an odd feeling of relief. Every time it stopped, that relief was replaced with sudden, inexplicable terror. She wanted to run. But there was nowhere to run.
“Mom,” she heard Dinky whisper, “I'm scared. What's going on?”
Ditzy began reassuring her daughter, though she didn't sound very reassured herself. Cheerilee watched the darkness.
They were all quiet.
Suddenly, a massive roar cut through the night. Even from their distance, the ponies were stunned for a moment by the sheer intensity of its rage. A tiny purple dot appeared, though Cheerilee could barely make it out.
The horizon began to burn.
These weren't the flickering flashes, nor the pillars. This time, the ground beyond had actually been set aflame. A line of emerald fire rising high into the heavens, completely blocking Cheerilee's view.
The roar was repeated. Cheerilee recognized it now.
“It's a dragon,” Octavia said flatly. She looked dazed.
The line of flame began to lower as darkness pressed down upon it. But the flame resisted. And the roars continued.
The contest went on for several long minutes. Nopony could look away, not even little Dinky. The flame would go down a ways, then flare back up, then go down further. It was obvious to everypony where it was heading.
A line of duller green light emerged and tore through the wall. The fire wavered, and darkness immediately crushed it. The roars stopped.
The group was silent.
“That doesn't look good,” Vinyl muttered.
Dinky disentangled herself from her mother's protective grip and made her way over to the hill's peak beside Cheerilee. “Miss Cheerilee?” she whispered.
Cheerilee glanced down. Her grim look softened. “Yes, Dinky?”
“What are we waiting for?”
“Hm.” Cheerilee looked over, and Dinky followed her gaze. Several shapes of light were appearing. Deep blue nearly blending in with the night sky, magenta, and a silvery blue, all seeming to contest green. Some also seemed to be contested by nothing—just darkness.
Dinky was good at making sense of things. She wasn't sure her ideas were always right, but she was good at coming up with them. Her mother was always saying Dinky had a great imagination.
Dinky didn't see a light show as the others seemed to. She saw some lights going up against others. A different shade of purple was making a bubble, but the darkness seemed to pop it. Dinky knew a lot about bubbles—her mother was always giving her bubble wrap to play with.
She saw each color in turn get brought down by the darkness until only two remained: green and the deep blue. Every now and then the magenta would resurface, but it didn't seem to be accomplishing much anymore.
Then the darkness grabbed again. Dinky let out a little whimper as the deep blue vanished. Above, she watched the stars get dimmer, dimmer...
The stars winked out. Now they were in darkness.
Dinky wasn't afraid of the dark. She kept watching.
The magenta and the green were battling again. The magenta was moving very fast and bright now. After a short fight, the green flashes winked out.
Now there were no colors.
“I think it's over,” Cheerilee whispered to Dinky.
Dinky lay on her belly, rested her chin on her front hoofs, and kept watching.
Mayor Mare sighed.
It had been a half-hour since the horizon had showed any activity. The ponies had barely spoken, all busy watching the darkness. Even Vinyl Scratch, normally so twitchy, had settled down. Most concentrated of all was little Dinky Doo.
Mayor Mare rolled her eyes. Enough was enough. “Everypony,” she said, getting up, “I think it's over. The sun will be rising any minute now.”
“The stars are still gone,” Octavia said, eyes wide. “The...the moon is red and the stars are gone.”
“There is nothing we can do about it.” Mayor Mare stomped her hoof, looking around at the assembled townsfolk. “Everypony, I would love to be able to help. Whatever it is that happened was clearly extremely important, and I'm sure we would all like to contribute in some way.”
She fixed Cheerilee with a stern glare as the schoolmare opened her mouth to protest. “But we can't. We are here and they are there. They could be all the way in the Crystal Kingdom, for all we know!”
“But...” Vinyl rubbed her eyes, groaning. “We...we can't just go and sleep! We've gotta—” Her eyes shot open. “Did I miss anything? I was just rubbing my eyes for, like, a second! I didn't, right?”
The Mayor scowled. “Vinyl, you are exhausted. We all are!” She turned to Ditzy. “Ms. Doo, this is not good for little Dinky. She needs to sleep!”
Ditzy blinked. Her jaw dropped. “Oh, geez! Dinky—”
“I'm not goin',” Dinky muttered.
“Dinky.” Cheerilee leaned down. “You do need to rest.”
“I'm not goin' until we're sure it's over!” Dinky said, glaring.
“C'mon, Dinky!” Ditzy reached down to pick Dinky up.
Dinky dug her hooves in the ground. Her horn gave a little spark. The area around her crackled, and Mayor Mare caught a whiff of ozone.
Ditzy pulled her hooves away. She looked at the Mayor and gave an apologetic shrug. “She's been using that ever since she learned it. I can't really do anything without getting zapped.”
“Listen, Dinky,” Cheerilee murmured. She raised a hoof, as if to pat the little filly on the back, and clearly thought better of it. “How about we just wait for the sun to rise, okay? I'll take the class on a field trip to Ms. Twilight's library to learn a new spell if you do!”
Mayor Mare—ever the diplomat—thought better of mentioning that there was every possibility Twilight would not be managing the library for a long, long time.
Dinky brightened at the offer. The electric aura vanished.
Beside her, Ditzy groaned. “Great. More magic. Maybe she'll learn how to find a parent who can actually control her, that's the spell she actually—”
Mayor Mare took Ditzy by the hoof, grimacing. “Ditzy Doo, you are very tired. Don't say anything you'll later regret.”
Ditzy pulled away from the Mayor, looking stung. She looked with one eye at Dinky, and then back to Mayor Mare. She started to speak, then stopped.
Dinky hadn't noticed. She was too intently watching the horizon—the horizon to the east this time. Mayor Mare and the others joined her.
A few minutes passed in silence. Mayor Mare checked her pocket watch, tucked beneath her cravat. It was a quarter to four. At this time of year, the sun should have risen fifteen minutes ago. The red moon was beginning to set, but there was no sun in sight.
That was when she started to get scared. Very soon the world would become pitch-black. Ponies would awaken to find a sight even worse than that of the 'eternal' night four years ago. At least then there had been a moon and stars, instead of this cold emptiness.
They waited five more minutes.
Vinyl started pacing back and forth. The entire area was utterly still, as if even the wind had paused to await the sun.
Then ten minutes. A harsh wind came through, forcing Dinky to sit to avoid being blown over.
Mayor Mare glanced back at Ponyville, admiring the soft lights. Their light would remain when the moon went down. And if for some reason they went out...well, it was important to remember which way was home.
Then thirty.
The moon was beginning to spill beneath the horizon. The wind had died again, and the only noise came from the lake below.
Vinyl was pacing faster now, as Dinky was beginning to fidget. Cheerilee had gone diving for her spyglass. Octavia was seated, watching Vinyl with wide eyes.
Ditzy looked at Mayor Mare and leaned close. “It's not gonna rise,” she muttered.
“Of course it will,” Mayor Mare snapped. But she had no real conviction. She was tired and worried. Her rational manner was fading, and she was very soon going to show these ponies exactly what a politician put under pressure looked like.
She lay down and rested her head on her hooves. “It has to.”
Ditzy bit her lip, not answering.
Then the moon set, and darkness fell.
With that, the six ponies went still, and there was only silence on the hill.
The Mayor got up. “What's taking Cheerilee so long?” She felt her way over to the cliff's edge and leaned over, trying to make something out in the void.
“Dunno,” Vinyl said. The unicorn sounded relieved that the silence had been broken. “Maybe somepony should go check.”
Mayor Mare heard Vinyl rising to her hooves. “Um, Vinyl, be careful you don't—” She felt Vinyl walk right into her and yelped as her two front hooves were shoved over the edge. Before she could recover her balance, she fell.
She didn't scream. This wasn't because she was brave, or because there was little distance between her and the water. It was because she was too scared to make a sound. She couldn't see anything. She couldn't feel anything. For all she knew, the entire world had fallen away, leaving only her to plummet indefinit—
Something about the frigid water felt oddly soothing. Its cold was a constant presence, reminding her that the world hadn't vanished. She still couldn't see anything, but that was less of a concern when underwater. And to her surprise, there were no leeches about. Perhaps they didn't like the cold.
Now that she thought about it, maybe it wasn't such a bad place to visit. She would have to visit it more often.
Remembering she was in a very cold lake with only a lungful of air between herself and a few gulps of icewater, she cast around. She couldn't feel the bottom of the lake, but she did feel a hoof.
The hoof tightened around hers.
It pulled her up, and her head broke the surface. She took in a grateful breath of fresh air. Her eyes were shut, her ears still waterlogged, and she was starting to go numb, so she couldn't exactly tell much difference between the surface and the lake, but at least she could breathe.
There was something ringing in her ear. Somepony was yelling something. Blearily, she opened her eyes, as the hoof pulled her up onto what felt like a rock.
She could see.
It took her a moment to understand. Then she whirled around.
The tiniest crack of light had emerged. Very, very tiny, but it was there.
The four ponies on the hill were focused on Mayor Mare, asking if she was alright. Cheerilee was on the rock with her, her back to the horizon they'd been watching all night. They hadn't noticed.
Mayor Mare stared at the horizon, eyes wide. She was shivering uncontrollably, but what did it matter?
“Miss Mayor!” Cheerilee shouted. “Can you hear me?”
The Mayor looked back at Cheerilee, starting to smile. “Y-y-yes.”
Cheerilee sighed. “Thank goodness. You looked a little, um, out of it for a second.”
The Mayor waited.
Cheerilee frowned. “Wait. You...looked...”
As one, the five other ponies spun to look. As they did, the sky turned a brilliant pink.
They stared in wonder at the incredible sight—a sight which now seemed as once-in-a-lifetime as the arrival of a comet, despite having come every day of their lives up until that point. The stars returned shortly, though they quickly went away again as the sun climbed over the eastern rim of Equestria.
It was morning.
“Horse apples!” Octavia whispered.
Vinyl looked over, head tilting.
Octavia appeared to regain her composure, and she frowned back. The cellist gave a derisive sniff as she began to walk away, though Mayor Mare noticed her eyes regularly shifting eastward.
The Mayor looked at Cheerilee. The teacher sat on the rock beside her, eying the spyglass that had been retrieved from the lake. She seemed a mixture of embarrassed and overwhelmed.
The Mayor looked back up from the rock. Dinky was hugging her mother, crying.
The Mayor found herself feeling a bit surprised—the little filly had put on a brave front. Almost brave enough to make those around her forget that she was still a foal, and that the threat of never-ending darkness would still be utterly terrifying to her.
Then again, it seemed to the Mayor that Ditzy was crying, too.
After a minute or so, the two had recovered. Ditzy gave Mayor Mare a weary smile as she set Dinky on her back and took off into the air.
Vinyl was trotting off after Octavia. The disc jockey's posture and facial expressions were all being kept perfectly neutral—save her wide, twitching eyes. Perhaps she wasn't used to having those exposed.
Octavia and Vinyl Scratch faded into the gloom of the early winter morning. The Mayor was alone. She looked back at the sun, squinting, as it was now a bit too bright to look at.
Celestia's sun was such a pretty thing. It seemed a shame to be the only one on the hill to see it.
Well, almost the only one.
Mayor Mare looked down at her hooves. On the hard, jagged rock lay a fuchsia earth pony mare, fast asleep.
The Mayor gave a tired smile. For a moment, she considered trying to wake the schoolmarm.
Instead, she leaped off the rock and ran off.
About ten minutes later, Mayor Mare returned. She jumped back down and gently lay a quilt over the sleeping mare.
Then she turned and leaped back.
It had been a long night.
