Lyra groaned in exhaustion as she felt her strength slipping away. The problems had degraded exponentially, and now the creation of a single portal was a near Olympian feat. It almost seemed unnatural.
She stood in a giant circle, shoulder-to-shoulder with entire magic universities and colleges, as well as students and professors of theoretical physics. The power fluctuating from both horn and sophisticated machine could have rivaled the entirety of the Cold War. This was no longer about finesse or structure, this was becoming a struggle of pure desperation.
Inside the ring, all around the unstable portal, were piles of broken tools that they had used in attempts to smash, pry, bend, or even cut a way through to the human world. There was even splinter battering ram made from a nearby cedar tree; it had proven vain as well. Suggestions to use Ponyville's anti-dragon cannons(1) were heard, but quickly tossed to the side, as it was far too dangerous. For them and the astronomically miniscule chance it got through to earth.
The previous world record for holding open an interdimensional portal to earth, due to back traffic and bad scheduling, was twenty-three point two-seven-three minutes. This unstable, crude and potentially dangerous portal they had managed to keep open for ten hours without a single break. Ponies were dropping like flies.
Thankfully, they had the foresight to invite the staff of Ponyville General.
The good medical ponies, along with a multitude of volunteers, carted off the unconscious ponies to makeshift medical tents where they would be treated for magical overexertion and given plenty of fluids after they woke up. It was getting so bad that the healers were pleading, nay, begging for them to give up. Toss dignity to the wind, these unicorns were hurting themselves.
It didn't take much to convince the bulk of the assembly, and the rest were quickly agreeing.
This made Lyra all the more desperate. Her strength was already fading like a snowball in hell, but she kept forcing herself to do more, pulling strength from reserves and places she didn't know she had. My, how her body was simply riddled with little pockets and streams of magic. Was that what her professors back at Celestia's School for Gifted Unicorns meant when they compared unicorn magic to a pomegranate? Pity she couldn't remember their importance at the moment. She was getting rather lightheaded.
She barely even noticed when she was the last one standing. Those who had given up, simply collapsed, unable to walk away.
By this point, the stubborn portal was barely a pinprick in the space-time continuum. Still, rather impressive for a single unicorn mare.
"Lyra, stop."
Lyra would do no such thing. Though her legs were beginning to buckle, she gritted her teeth and hissed like a viper in determination. Not even if it was Princess Twilight herself ordering her to stand down. Which it was.
The lavender alicorn, exhausted and walking crooked, pleaded with her friend. "Please, Lyra. You're already hurting yourself. Don't do something irreversible. It's not worth it."
Lyra didn't respond, but her hissing was starting to rise in volume to a painful moan. It was physically hurting, as it had been for the past few hours. But she silently refused again.
"I know how much you care for humans, Lyra," Twilight said, starting to tear up a bit at the sight of her struggling friend. "I know you want to send them back home to their loved ones. It means your good mare, Lyra, but this can't go on any longer. You have to stop. We all have to stop. Not all of the major magic schools combined could do anything."
Her back legs gave out, forcing her into a sitting position. The portal wasn't even large to see anymore, or perhaps it wasn't there at all, and yet she kept going.
"Lyra," Twilight cried desperately, grabbing the mint mare in her weak hooves as she tried to shake her out of the enraged trance. "Stop this right now. We've all done our best, you more than the rest of us. It's been over a month and a half. It's time to face the facts. It's over."
"In your... urgh... dreams... sassafras," Lyra finally replied, slumping down, her horn hardly sparking anymore. It was more of a tiny fizz now. She turned to look at the princess, her horn still active. There were large tears flowing down her cheeks as she spoke more. "He's been crying... a lot... lately. At first... he would deny it... but for the... past... past three days... ooooww... he's cried himself to sleep. In my h-hooves. I... can't give up. Twilight. I can never... just... give up. I won't fail... someone... I care about... ever... ever... again."
And with that, Lyra's horn gave a little pop and she collapsed like a ragdoll.
Twilight fell down beside her friend and draped a wing over her as the medical ponies hurried to assist. "It's going to be okay, Lyra."
"No, it won't," Lyra coughed as her eyelids got heavier. "I've... been here before. Not... here. But... trying so hard... to make up for... something that isn't... my fault. Only to... fall. Exhausted. Can't move. Seeing... someone... I care about... get hurt... and not... able... to do... anyth..."
She would sleep for a very long time.
Twilight laid her chin atop of Lyra's head and sniffed, feeling herself starting to fade as well. "It's going to be okay, Lyra. You can fail a thousand times, and we'll all still love our favorite anthropologist."
* * *
(1) Giant fire-breathing dragon's migrate past the town every year. A little insurance is never a bad thing.