Deadlight stared, watching her discomfort in near silence. She looked for anger in his body-language, or maybe fear. Instead, he only smiled. “Really? You’re saying… because of some weird magic you did… there’s four of me now? You picked the right pony to copy.” He stood a little straighter, flexing his wings for her. Displaying in a way that Melody knew she should look away from. But she didn’t—just now, she didn’t have the strength to try.