“Oh, right, it’s so that those things don’t come down and eat us!” he said happily, gesturing upwards with a hoof. Handy looked up. He immediately wished he hadn’t. The ceiling was utter blackness, such that even the plentiful light coming from the floor was swallowed up as that roiling, solid mass refused to be illuminated. He felt lightheaded looking up at it. Nausea churned within him and bile threatened to rise up his gullet at the sight. He forced himself to look away, breathing heavily.