//------------------------------// // Chapter 5: Secrets // Story: Everfree // by Dusk Quill //------------------------------// Echo blinked her eyes open as she slowly came to again. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the absolute darkness, but when her night vision kicked in, she could see everything. She was in some sort of underground chamber—a cave of some sort. Her head was pounding and her shoulder ached from when she landed on it. She had no idea where she was, and no idea where to go, but she was alive and alone.         At least those things didn’t follow me down here, she thought, trying to find the silver lining to her situation. Now, how do I get out of here?         Echo walked slowly through the cave, checking for any signs of life or a way out. She eventually came across a tunnel carved into the earth, and, with no other choice, followed it through to another large chamber. This one was more than twice the size of the one she landed in. From the other side of the cavern, she could hear running water. There must have been an underground river nearby.         “Hello?” she called out into the darkness. Echo listened to her own voice echo around the caves for a few moments before deciding there was nothing else here.         She trudged across the cave, following another tunnel for a long while. These caverns just went on forever. Hell, she didn’t even know if they would let out anywhere at all, but she carried on, not willing to think such a way. There was always a way out.         Following the tunnel led Echo to the river she had heard earlier. An underground stream cut through another cave, this one taller than it was expansive. She looked up, noticing the spiraling paths of rock carved out almost deliberately like a path to the top. That had to be her ticket out of here. She began her ascent, climbing up the rocky slope higher and higher while listening to the soothing sounds of the running water.         She began to wonder about where the rest of her team had gotten. She worried about them, and hoped they had all found safety. She quietly wondered how Midnight was doing with Fleethoof. Midnight was her best friend in the group, and they had spent most of their time together, confiding in one another. She knew why Midnight wanted to work with Fleethoof so badly.         Her thoughts shifted to Starlight and Blackjack, but quickly put them aside. Both stallions were some of the best fighters she had ever seen. If there was any question as to who was going to survive, it was going to be them. She more worried about Eclipse, who had a tendency to overlook or underestimate the severity of situations, and Daybreak, who freaked out the second something went awry.         No, I need to have faith in my friends. They’ll be fine—they’ll all be fine.         Rising to the top of the cave, Echo peered down into the chasm again. She had fallen a lot deeper than she originally thought. Yet another tunnel lay at the top of the ramps, but this one had one striking difference: torches dotted the walls at even intervals, providing minor illumination of the path ahead.         Echo didn’t know what put her off more: the fact that somepony had clearly been here before her, or the fact that the torches were freshly burning. It didn’t matter though. She had no other alternative. Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, Echo patted the side of her gun and proceeded down the tunnel.         Fleethoof smiled as he pushed on a door, and found it opened without any resistance. The last few doors he and Midnight had come across had been locked as well. Despite another whole-hearted attempt at breaking and entering, the search for the keys continued. So finding an unlocked door had quickly become a godsend for them.         He pushed the door inward, peering around the dimly lit study. Cases overflowing with old books and scrolls covered the walls. A desk sat in a state of disarray up against one wall, and a small table in the opposite corner looked equally disorganized. Whoever had resided here had clearly put the room to good use with heavy research.         Fleethoof walked over to the desk while Midnight began examining some of the contents of the bookcases. The desk was literally covered in reports and papers detailing complex experiments. Books of all sorts of ancient magic were stacked in the upper corner, bookmarks spilling out of their pages from all sides. A book about aether pools and world magic lay cracked open on the desk, a passage about tapping into the raw power of magic underlined for future reference.         “Whoever lived here, they were interested in some really dangerous stuff,” Fleethoof muttered, rifling through the papers on the desk. “It looks like they were dabbling with old magic—powerful black magic, and a lot of it.”         “There’s books about literally everything here!” said Midnight, scanning the titles as she walked by. “Equine anatomy, physics, astronomy, geology, myths and legends, other races… You name it.”         Fleethoof shook his head. He couldn’t make heads or tails of what was scrawled on the sheets of paper. “What was going on here?”         Midnight stopped beside the table, looking over the items. A small chessboard lay in an unfinished game. She studied the positions of the pieces closely, her eyes tracing the outlines of each. She lifted one of the pawns, surprised by how weighty the pieces felt. It was a close game—but whoever was playing black had been a move from victory. Smirking mirthfully to herself, Midnight picked up the black bishop and slid it along the board, placing it to checkmate the white king.         “Checkmate,” she said in a melodic tune.         Something on the board clicked as the bishop sank down into the square she had placed it on. The sound made both Midnight and Fleethoof jump. A side of the chessboard had popped open, revealing a secret compartment. Peeking inside, Midnight reached in and produced a small, silver key.         “Reckon this opens some of those doors?” she asked Fleethoof with a grin. He smiled and nodded.         “Worth a shot. Good job, Mid. How’d you figure that out?”         Midnight tossed the key in the air and caught it again. “I didn’t, I was just bored and fooling around.”         Fleethoof couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “What else is new…?”         He turned to head for the door with Midnight, and stopped when he glanced down at the papers he had set aside. An inky hoofmark marred one of the pages. Fleethoof furrowed his brow. That hadn’t been there before. A quick check of his hooves revealed ink on one of them. How did he…?         His eyes narrowed as he looked at the papers again, hurriedly sorting through them. This was impossible.         “Fleet, what’s up?”         “This ink is still wet,” Fleethoof said, finding the culprit and lifting the paper up. He touched the ink on the page. Sure enough, it smudged beneath his hoof. “This was written no more than an hour or two ago.”         Midnight’s eyes were wide in shock. “That means whoever lives here… is still here?”         “Maybe…” Fleethoof scrutinized the papers a little more. The markings and words in them flew way over his head. He knew nothing about magic. But he could read, and the title of the freshly written pages caught his attention. Etatis Magicum: Controlling the Flow of Time Through Aether         “Controlling time? With magic?” Fleethoof had never heard of such a notion before. It sounded preposterous. But if it was true, then whoever was researching this could have powers over the natural world nopony should ever have.         “Somepony was controlling time?” Midnight asked. “How is something like that even possible?”         Fleethoof shook his head. “It isn't—I don't think... But these notes, they're so... thorough. Hell, I don't recognize half these symbols, but they go on for pages and pages!”         Midnight tried to peek at the sheets from over Fleethoof's shoulder. “What does it say?”         “Just things like how the flow of aether might be tethered to the flow of time... Listen to this: 'If one had the ability to manipulate the direct flow of natural aether, it is possible that one may be able to manipulate the current of time.' What the hell?”         “I guess whoever was researching this stuff really wanted it then. They wanted to be like a Time Lord or something.”         Unless they already have them…         The thought chilled Fleethoof. If they already had control of that magic… He glanced up at the clock on the wall, studying the hands on the face. He watched, counting off the seconds in his head, and then his chest began to feel tight.         “Midnight…” The mare was still staring intently at him. “When we were in the dining hall, do you remember what time the clock said?”         Midnight was deeply confused, but racked her brain nonetheless. “Um… A quarter after midnight, I think.”         “And how long ago would you say that was?”         “Gosh, that’d have to have been at least an hour ago by now.” She cocked her head to the side. “Why?”         Fleethoof nodded slowly, the color fading from his face. “What time do you have right now?”         “It’s…” She glanced down at her watch, and felt her jaw drop open. Her mouth quivered as she shook her wrist, bringing the watch up to her ear. It was still ticking—still functioning.         “Twelve fifteen, right…?”         “That’s impossible…” she whispered.         Fleethoof shook his head. “No, not impossible… We’re stuck in a time loop. Somepony must've found out how to freeze this part of the forest in time. That’s why the candles are still burning, the clocks are working, the ink is wet, and nothing’s changed.”         “But how? Nopony is that powerful!” Midnight said, rushing over to where Fleethoof was and skimming the papers on the desk. “How would the princesses not know about this?”         “Because we’ve fallen out of step with time somehow,” Fleethoof replied, reading it from the paper in his hoof. “Somepony was experimenting with powerful time magic, and they messed up a big chunk of the Everfree, making it its own separate world. Which means we’re not going to be rescued at dawn—because dawn will never come here. If I'm reading this right, I don’t think we’re in the Equestria we knew anymore.”         Midnight was truly terrified now, scared to her core. If they were in some demonic alternate universe, what were they supposed to do? “How are we supposed to get home then? What do we do?”         “We need to break the spell and escape this world. The creator has to have made a way out for them. We just need to figure out where and what it is, and we’ll be free.” Fleethoof looked over at the key in Midnight’s grasp. “The only way outwards is forwards. Let’s keep going.”         “But what about the others?” asked Midnight, following Fleethoof back out into the corridor. “They don’t know about this. They’ll be trapped here forever.”         “We’ll find as many of them as we can before we leave,” Fleethoof said. “We won’t leave them behind, Mid. I promise.”         Midnight Dasher took a deep breath and nodded slowly. “All right… Then let’s get a move on.”         Eclipse had landed in some sort of attic. After Blackjack had disappeared into the fog, all she could think to do was fly to the roof. Surely those things couldn’t get up there. Hiding safely on the roof, Eclipse listened to the sounds of the zombie ponies growling and stalking around the mansion. The number of different sounds steadily grew in frequency. The others must have found their hiding spot, meaning everything that wanted to kill them was present and accounted for.         She listened as they broke windows to get inside, and couldn’t stand it anymore. Eclipse wandered around the upper level until she found an open window and slinked inside. What she found was the dark, dusty attic she was now sitting in the corner of. There had been nothing useful in any of the boxes. Old clothes and books were all she found.         Curled up tight on herself, Eclipse listened to the sounds of gunfire somewhere distant in the mansion. It must have been Blackjack—but he sounded so far away. How had he gotten so far? How long had she been sitting up here? Gathering herself up, Eclipse stalked over to the only door and gave it a tug. It was locked.         Big surprise, the empty old house is locked up tight, thought Eclipse. She pulled a small utility knife out of her armor and set to removing the hinges, popping each one out of place until the door swung open. Smirking at her own handiwork, Eclipse trotted out into the candlelit corridor. Two doors presented themselves to her, challenging her.         She picked a door through a quick eenie-meeny-miny-moe session—and then changed her mind when the winning door proved to be locked. The latter opened with ease, opening to a living quarters. A table and chair sat in the middle of the room, and an adjacent room held a small bed and dresser. A closed door sat at the opposite end of the room, a sign labeling it as the closet.         Eclipse did a quick sweep of the room, checking for anything remotely interesting. Of course, nothing stood out. Stepping into the bedroom, her eyes ran over a row of photographs on the dresser. A unicorn stallion dressed in an old-fashioned tuxedo was prominent amongst all of them.         This must’ve been the butler’s quarters, she reasoned, realizing sadly just how long ago that life must have been. Well, maybe the servant has something interesting to hide… Jackpot!         Eclipse laughed out loud as she pried a brass key from the middle drawer of the dresser. Perhaps this would set her free to go find her friends. In her jubilance, Eclipse didn’t notice the closet door slowly swing open.         She kissed the cold metal key, then stashed it in her armor. The last thing she wanted was to lose it. Turning and practically bouncing across the floor, Eclipse pushed the door open—and ended up colliding with the now locked door. She stared in confusion as she tried the door again. Sure enough, it remained locked.         How? I just came through here!         Eclipse muttered a silent curse as she tried it again, and then sighed, reaching into her armor and producing the key. It fit in the lock, and the resounding click of the deadbolt opening made her smile. This was turning out easier than she expected.         The next thing Eclipse knew, she was on the floor, her body smashed up against the wall and her head pounding. Something had hit her from behind, hard enough to concuss the pony. She groaned, trying to get her world to stop spinning as she rolled over to get a look at her attacker. She wished she hadn’t.         The pony—if the thing had ever been a pony—was horribly mutated. Its legs were stretched and deformed, making it stand almost as tall as an alicorn. Its coat was shedding in spots, revealing sickly gray skin beneath the pallid fur. The creature’s eyes were a glowing red, much like the ponies of Sunny Town, though this creature wasn’t as skeletal as they were. She recognized the ripped and tattered tuxedo the creature was clothed in. But what struck fear into her heart the most was its hooves. Long, scythe-like claws sat at the end of each of its forelegs. How this thing had come into existence, Eclipse couldn’t even guess.         With icy dread gripping at her heart, Eclipse reached for her rifle—and found it had been knocked from her grasp in the initial attack. She could see the dark metal weapon lying back near the door, a good distance from where she was now. The butler hissed and approached the downed mare. Eclipse drew her pistol as quickly as she could, fumbling with it for a moment before popping half a dozen rounds into the monster’s torso. The bullets smacked into its flesh, splattering black blood across the wood floor, but the creature was unfazed.         As it drew its bladed claws back, Eclipse’s brain shut down. She couldn’t think. She couldn’t move. Terror had completely paralyzed her. This isn’t happening… This isn’t happening…         Eclipse screamed for all of a second, and then her voice vanished into a viscous gurgle. Another second later, silence took the mansion.         Starlight had been investigating a room filled with portraits of ponies he didn’t recognize and landscape paintings when he heard the gunshots, followed by Eclipse’s chilling scream. She was on the floor just above his head. Oh no… he panicked and bolted out of the art gallery. He burst through the doors at the far side of the room, emerging in a dark, grand foyer. He took the grand staircase two steps at a time, running as fast as he could to the door above the gallery on the second floor.         All but kicking the door down, Starlight found himself in another hallway. Where had that scream come from? He mentally tried to map out the mansion, guiding himself to a door a few steps down the hall. It was open, and the stallion rushed through and rounded the corner, coming to another door.         How many fucking doors are in this place?! He grit his teeth and pulled at the door. It was firmly locked. Oh hell no. I am done playing games!         Starlight leveled his rifle with the door handle and splintered it apart with a short burst. He bucked the door in, kicking it off its hinges with a loud boom. He could see a door in front of him already open, leading into what looked like an attic. To his left was a short hall, with another door at the end. He rushed for it and threw his body against it. The door flew inward, and he stumbled in.         Eclipse was a ghastly sight. She lay slumped up against the wall, her head dangling from her shoulders. Her once luxurious indigo fur was soaked in her crimson blood, the fluid heavily staining her purple armor. Something had very nearly decapitated her. It was not a merciful death.         Starlight fought his gag reflex as he stepped over beside his deceased teammate. Eclipse had been one of the first members of Ghost Team. They had shared fond memories together. Now, staring at her corpse filled the stallion with dark fury and unimaginable pain. Tears stung at the corners of his eyes as memories flashed in his mind.         “Ghost Team is gonna be the best of the Lunar Guard! Those other bats aren't gonna be able to keep up with how incredible we are!”         “You got that right, Eclipse! Come on, let's go meet the others.”         Starlight's hooves tightened into fists while his body quivered with unbridled torment. He would find whoever did this to the poor pony—and he would make them pay. As he gingerly ran a hoof through Eclipse's messy mane he wished he could take her body back home. As it stood, with monsters prowling around, it would have been too great of a risk to drag her along on his back.         “I’m sorry, Eclipse…” he spoke in a whisper, shaking his head.         A glint of something shiny caught his eye. Inside her armor lay a small brass key. She had died holding onto it, helping Starlight even in death. He reached into the bloodstained armor and retrieved the key—and saw a blur of movement in the corner of his eye.         Starlight’s head snapped up quickly, looking around the room. There was nothing there, even though he could have sworn he had just seen something. Tucking the key in his armor, Starlight cautiously backed out of the room, never turning his back on it until he was back out in the hall. Releasing the breath he had been unconsciously holding, he turned down the hall, and froze.         At the other end, where he had just come from, stood the most horrifying sight he had ever witnessed. A pony-like creature with razor sharp claws was blocking his path, just leering at him. Starlight saw the fresh blood on its claw and felt his heart stop beating. This had been the monster that killed Eclipse.         The butler gave a low hiss as it studied Starlight. Neither side moved an inch. And then the butler charged at Starlight. The bat pony drew his rifle, peppering the monster with shots before diving back into the room, narrowly dodging the pair of sharp claws as they embedded into the wall where he had been standing. The butler hissed again and clambered back into the small apartment space as Starlight drew a bead on its head.         He squeezed the trigger putting half a dozen bullets into its face. The creature flinched back and let out a pained hiss. Starlight scowled and continued his attack with another squeeze of the trigger.         Click.         His expression dropped. His gun was empty. Before he could look up again, the butler brought its hoof around, smacking Starlight in the chest with the broad side of its clawed leg. Starlight grunted as he flew through the air, crashing into the old bed and falling to the floor. He shook the stars from his vision and looked up. The monstrosity of a pony was coming at him again.         Starlight ejected the empty magazine from his weapon, and then dove out of the way of another attack. He was now in the small space of the bedroom with the butler. With barely enough room to maneuver, he jammed a fresh magazine into his gun and loaded the first bullet, just as a claw swung wide and scraped against the metal plate of his armor.         Starlight grunted again as the force knocked him back out of the bedroom. A deep scratch ran across the breadth of his chest piece. He scrambled backwards away from the abomination while it tried to realign itself to get out of the tight bedroom. Starlight trained his sights on the butler’s head again, and as it stepped out, he lay down heavy fire into its brain.         The butler hissed and flailed as the bullets made contact with its skull, but it still continued to remain standing. When Starlight’s gun clicked empty again, he realized the futility of his attempts, and bolted for the door. He heard the snarl of the monster behind him and turned sharply—realizing only too late that he’d gone in the wrong direction when he found himself in the attic.         Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck! He could hear the butler coming in after him as he backed up against one of the beams supporting the rafters and roof.         When the monster crawled its way through the door, Starlight could feel his time slipping away from him. He drew his pistol and continued to shoot it out of lack of a better idea. The butler continued its advance, drawing its claw back when it was within striking distance just as Starlight’s gun ran dry.         Timing his jump, Starlight leapt out of the way as the claw sliced through the beam like it was a twig. Wood splintered everywhere, and a fine mist of dust fell form the ceiling. Now on his back, Starlight stared up in horror as the butler turned on him, hissing its bloodthirsty cry. It drew its claw back again, and Starlight saw his life flash before his eyes.         That was when he heard a creaking, followed by a loud snap and crash. With the support beam severed, the rafters above the butler had collapsed, sending heavy wood rods down like spears into the creature. The butler hissed sharply as the wood impaled it, pinning it in place as it thrashed and struggled. Black blood seeped everywhere, pooling beneath the abomination as it gave a spasm and collapsed to the floor in a heap.         Starlight lay where he was, staring in disbelief at his dumb luck. He waited, and waited some more, just to make sure the thing was actually dead and he was still alive. He gave a weak, disbelieving chuckle and scrambled back to his hooves. Somehow, he had escaped by the skin of his teeth.         “That's one way to bring the house down,” he remarked and gave a hard kick to the butler's head. “That's for Eclipse, you ugly son of a bitch.”         Grasping tightly to his prize, Starlight stumbled his way out of the attic and back down the corridor he had come from. It was time to find out what Eclipse's key opened up.         At first, Blackjack had welcomed the calming silence and dim candlelight of the mansion. It felt like a beacon of sanctuary compared to the murderous forest he had barely made it out of. Now, the longer he spent in the monstrous house, the more the eerie stillness and hard lighting patterns put him on edge. The long, dark shadows cast by every single object seemed to creep in around him from every angle. The weight of his gun in his hooves had never felt so grounding before.         He limped slowly down the corridor, leaning against the wall for support as he trudged ever forward. He needed to find a safe room to lie low in for a bit and patch his wounds. The stinging in his shoulder had intensified, spreading to the neighboring muscles down his back and leg. He momentarily wondered if those undead ponies had some sort of venom.         A dull thud from somewhere nearby made the stallion tense up, freezing in place as he looked around swiftly. There was nothing behind or in front of him. The noise must have come from a nearby room.         Gotta move faster… he told himself and plodded along, gritting his teeth as he fought back a flash of agony. Blackjack walked to the end of the hall and rounded the corner, surprised to find not another passageway, but a small flight of stairs. Feeling like he was making progress after all, the bat pony lumbered unsteadily down each step until he came to the bottom. There, just behind the stairs and off to the side, was exactly what he had been searching for. A door lay mostly hidden out of sight by a stack of crates, marked as supplies. He quietly wondered how long those had been sitting there.         Testing the handle, Blackjack breathed a sigh of relief when it clicked open. He pushed the door in, and could have cried. The hidden room was a small medical station, with cabinets and shelves of assorted vials and medical instruments stacked neatly side-by-side. A cot lay pressed up against the corner, and a desk sat covered in various medical textbooks.         He kicked the door shut behind him and shuffled over to the shelves, pulling down a roll of gauze and cotton pads. He grabbed a bottle of rubbing alcohol in his teeth and proceeded to set up his equipment on the bed. Blackjack was surprised by how much his wound was still bleeding. He would have thought by now that it would have clotted at least a little.         Pressing a patch of cotton against the open wound to stem the flow of blood, Blackjack cracked the bottle of alcohol open and poured a generous amount on a fresh patch. Taking a deep breath and mentally preparing himself for what was about to come, he swiftly replaced the now bloody cotton with the alcohol-soaked rag, hissing sharply in pain. The antiseptic stung like a thousand needles being driven into his tender flesh.         He took a couple heavy breaths to steady himself again, fighting a wave of lightheadedness from the blood loss while beginning to wrap the gauze tightly around his shoulder as best he could. Decently satisfied with his field dressings, Blackjack held the bandaging together with a tight knot and went over to the cabinets, finding a bottle with the name of a type of painkiller he recognized and popping a couple. He wondered for a second if he was going to start transforming into one of those things, but brushed it off. That sort of stuff only ever happened in cheesy horror movies.         Then again, this whole night had begun to feel reminiscent of a thriller.         The Thestral sighed with relief. Although the stinging burn in his muscles remained, blood no longer dripped freely down his leg, and most of the pain had been dealt with. Still, he felt woozy from the effects of the medicine and the loss of blood. That bed suddenly looked very tempting.         No, I can’t afford to fall asleep now, he thought, mentally willing himself to remain standing strong. My friends are still out there. Gotta find them and find a way out. I can sleep when I’m dead.          Before he left, Blackjack limped over to the desk and tore a sheet of paper out from one of the books. It was part of a table of contents, and had a fair amount of blank space. He scrawled a quick message out, letting his friends know he had been this way and was still alive, should any of them stumble upon this place.         Blackjack slung his rifle over his shoulder and stepped back out into the hallway with the stairs. He had no idea where he was or where to go, but starting anywhere was a good start in his book. He slowly hobbled down the corridor, walking past a row of windows towards a door at the far end.         The moment he was past the windows, the sound of smashing glass made him nearly jump out of his skin. In a blur of motion, he had spun around, staring wide-eyed at the all-too familiar zombie pony as it righted itself, standing amidst a pile of shattered glass. It glowered at him and hissed. Blackjack’s eyes narrowed back.         “Oh, hell no… You've gotta be kidding—”         The pony charged at him while Blackjack tore the door open and slammed it shut the moment he was through. He heard the creature make contact with the surface, then felt the entire door shudder as it threw its weight against it. Blackjack grunted and braced the door with his body, keeping it held shut until the pony’s hoof smashed through the wood.         He recoiled back and shoved the barrel of his rifle through the hole, pulling the trigger until he ran out of bullets. He heard the monster on the other side screeching like a banshee. Taking the momentary advantage, Blackjack began running as best he could with his injured leg down the dark corridor. It was a second later that he heard the door behind him explode inward, and the sound of pounding hooves came closer and closer.         Blackjack took a hard corner and dove through another door, just barely kicking this one shut before taking off like a rocket again. That thing was hot on his tail, and he was in no condition to fight it. If he wanted to stay alive, he’d have to stay one step ahead in this chase.         The key clicked sharply in the lock as the teeth fit perfectly into the tumblers. Fleethoof gave a short and triumphant laugh as he opened the previously locked door. The room that lay beyond was a dark space. Fleethoof drew his pistol for the light as Midnight Dasher walked casually into the shadowy room. She peered around at the sets of armor, each one uniquely designed and ornately decorated from the old days of renaissance Equestria. Fleethoof danced the beam from his flashlight around the room, looking for anything of value.         “You know, this house is really weird,” said Midnight, rapping a hoof against a breastplate and listening to the soft metallic echo it made. “Whoever lived here had a pretty eclectic taste in décor.”         Fleethoof scoffed and checked an empty suit of armor from head to toe. “Eclectic is putting it nicely…”         “I like it.”         “Of course you do. It’s right up your alley.”         Midnight smirked back at him, knowing he wouldn’t be able to see her in the dark. “What, are you saying I’m weird, Fleety?”         The stallion moved down the rows of armor, murmuring, “Your words, not mine… Did you just call me Fleety again?”         “No.”         “Don’t make me come over there.”         Midnight stuck her tongue out at him behind his back. She wandered down to the other end of the room and sighed. There was nothing in here. As she waited for Fleethoof to finish checking his side of the room, Midnight studied the suit of armor at the very end. She silently wondered if anypony had ever worn it before, and who they were.         She looked up at the helmet, brushing a bit of dust from the reflective surface and straightening it back on the mannequin. That was when she felt something twist in her hooves and heard a loud click. At her side, stone began grinding against stone, making both her and Fleethoof spin around on the spot. The wall beside Midnight had moved aside, revealing a secret chamber to another room.         “You need to stop messing with things,” Fleethoof said, exasperation heavy in his voice. “That’s why things like this keep happening.”         “We keep finding secrets because I mess around,” Midnight remarked, and stepped into the room as Fleethoof made his way towards her.         The second Midnight was through the new doorway, she felt the floor shift beneath her hooves, and another click was heard. A pressure plate! In the blink of an eye, the wall slammed shut behind her, separating the two ponies.         “Midnight!” Fleethoof cried out and ran up to the wall, searching desperately for a seam or anything to pry it open. He beat his hooves on the wall, but the solid stone refused to budge. On the other side, Midnight began wailing on the wall as well, crying out for her partner.         “Fleethoof! Fleet, what happened?”         “Don’t worry, Midnight. I’m coming. Just… Just stay where you are—or try to find a way around. I’ll meet up with you!”         “Okay, but be careful!”         Midnight could hear his hooves beating as he galloped away, hunting for a way to rescue her. Letting a lungful of air out in a slow breath, she turned back and gathered her bearings. She was in a much smaller room, with nothing but a pedestal near her. Focusing her vision, she approached it and cocked her head. A key lay neatly set into an indentation in the pedestal.         Oh, this doesn’t seem like a trap at all, she thought darkly. Grim visions of the room collapsing in on her, or the floor disappearing, or poison dart traps from the cliché novels of Daring Do flashed in her head. There was no way she was going to fall for something so obvious.         But, as she looked around again, she realized she had no other option. The room was nothing but solid walls all around. The only way forward was to take a leap of faith.         Sucking in a slow breath through her teeth, Midnight closed her eyes and reached a trembling hoof forward, grasping at the key. With a little force, it popped out of its home with a soft sound. Midnight tensed up and covered her head with her hooves, waiting for death to embrace her.         Nothing happened.         She blinked her eyes open, looking warily around the room. No dart traps had gone off, or anything. Half of her felt relieved, while another part felt robbed. Then the pedestal began to slide to the side, revealing a ladder running down into a dark hole.         Now here come the deadly traps, she assured herself as she began her descent down to wherever this ladder led.