The night in Ponyville was unusually silent—no crickets, no owl hoots, not even the gentle wind that usually whispered through the trees. Y/N, a lone pony tending to their cottage near the Everfree Forest, sat by the fireplace, trying to relax. But the feeling of being watched gnawed at them. When they finally turned around, there stood Fluttershy in the doorway, half-silhouetted by moonlight. At first glance, it seemed normal—her soft pink mane, the familiar curve of her wings. But something… was off. Her smile was too wide. Her eyes didn’t reflect light the way they should have. She hadn’t knocked.

Y/N blinked in confusion, stepping forward hesitantly. “Fluttershy…? What are you doing here this late?” No answer came right away. The figure shifted unnaturally, like her limbs bent at odd angles just before straightening again. Her mane hung damp and stringy, as if she’d just crawled out of a bog. Despite that, her voice—sweet and gentle—finally broke the silence: “It’s cold out here… won’t you let me in?” But it didn’t echo like a real voice—it was flatter, almost rehearsed. The tone was just a beat off, like somepony trying to remember how to sound like Fluttershy.

Y/N’s heart thudded against their chest. Something deep inside screamed to run. Fluttershy—or whatever was wearing her face—took one step forward without moving her legs, gliding unnaturally. Her eyes didn’t blink. “Please… I’m your friend, aren’t I?” she asked again, her head tilting too far to the side, bones audibly creaking. The fireplace behind Y/N flickered violently, casting twisted shadows. Whatever stood there was not Fluttershy—and Y/N finally realized… they’d never heard her knock. They never heard her come in. And now, it was too late to keep her out.