Monsters

Chapters

Vivisect
For Your Own Benefit
The Lives of Old Dogs, part 1
The Lives of Other Ponies, part 2
Our Little Histories
Magic Mirror on the Wall
A World of Lies, part 1
A Life of Lies, part 2
Straight Mare, Funny Mare
Pawn Takes Princess, part 1
A Summer Moon's Celebration, part 2
Dawn in Darkness, part 3
Once Upon a Time...
The Eyes of a Good Pony

Vivisect

Swift Sweep

The thing about the secret service is that everypony knows it exists.

The Equestrian Bureau for State Security listened for the conspiratorial whispers of plans to overthrow Princess Celestia. We scanned the shadows that the light of the Sun could not touch to find those who would have seen our nation crumble. Where the rest of the Royal Guard had no grounds to act, we would go in their place. Where their hooves could no longer reach, ours were there. We were the elite of the elite: the Princess' most trusted, Equestria's first and last line of defence.

The way I saw it, our job was to hunt monsters. Tonight, we had three of them to catch.

The cart drove over a pothole, shaking the cabin. The lone lantern that hung from the ceiling swung erratically, and shadows danced on our black suits of armour.

Twilit Grotto – the only unicorn for us three pegasi – sat closest to the cabin's back. With narrowed eyes, he poked an armoured hoof under the curtain separating us from the city outside. A little patch of dark purple hair protruded from a joint in his leg where one metal plate met another.

Our armour was not at all like the decorative tin suits of the Royal Guard. Whereas theirs was lightweight and served more to amaze the common folk than to protect its wearer, ours was the opposite: thick and heavy and covered the entire pony inside. Metal latches and magical seams held the entire suit together and ensured a tight fit, a few loose hairs notwithstanding.

River Flow sat across from Twilit Grotto, his helmet in his hooves. He didn't like wearing it; he had a hard time breathing as it was, without layers of chainmail and plate choking him. I couldn't help but glance at the thick scar across his throat: the mark of a spear that once tore it open. If I hadn't found him back then, he'd have bled out writhing on the floor in a puddle of his own blood and spit.

He eyed his helmet as though it were a criminal looking defiantly back at him. With a raspy sigh, he put the helmet on the floor and turned his hooves up to check his jagged horseshoes. They were on the blunt side and ran a serious lack of polish. River had always been a brash sort, rather grim, fond and eager to use the jagged horseshoes. Sometimes I wondered whether bashing somepony's face in was the only thing he liked.

River's eyes danced onto Twilit Grotto's hoof under the curtain. “Wouldn't do that, boss,” he grumbled in that terrible gravelly voice of his. It was like he chewed on your eardrums every time he opened his mouth – or somepony was chewing on his vocal chords.

Grotto retracted his hoof and smiled apologetically under his helmet. “Bad habit.”

River reached for his helmet and pulled it over his head, then fastened its latches and hoists to his collar-armour. He kept his visor open, though.

Lullaby and I sat opposite to one another at the other end of the cabin. She extended her wings, carving the floor with the tips of her wingblades.

I ruffled my wings; my feathers brushed against my enchanted armour. “Ready to dance, big girl?”

She turned her eyes up at me and pulled her wingblades out of the floor with a jerk, rattling her armour. She closed her visor, but through the breaths I could see her grin. “When aren't I, small boy?”

I turned the other way to slightly pull aside the curtain on our end. A mare and a stallion pulled our cart across the Canterlot night.

This city district had been built specifically for the spoilt brats of nobles: private mansions lined the mountainside, their pristine white walls, clear ponds, and gem-encrusted fountains glistening in the moonlight. If I ever felt bitter, however, I only needed to turn my head a little. The half-built spires of Celestia's new palace loomed distantly over us: a sobering reminder of whom all the land truly belonged to.

As for the two that pulled our cart, they both had their heads hung and focused solely on their task, though I could see the glint of the stallion's gritted teeth. Their muscles rippled under their skin as they performed the workhorse's menial job – and good on them, I thought, for drawing all this weight on their own. Even though I never thought much of these two, I still appreciated them in their own way. I could never memorise their names, though I'd been meaning to.

They worked for the EBSS just like us, after all – and on paper, there was no distinction between our ranks.

The difference came with age. They – and all the new recruits like them – were little more than toddlers at the time of Princess Luna's banishment and joined the organisation only in recent years. The rest of us had been working with the EBSS since its establishment directly after that Longest Night. But twenty years is twenty years, and Celestia needed fresh meat for the grinder.

Lullaby had overheard this pair begrudgingly call us veterans the 'old dogs'. I took a quick liking to that term; it suited us, I found. Per Twilit Grotto's suggestion, we'd been calling the kids 'puppies' ever since. They did not like it, not the slightest bit.

Although our work required mutual respect, the truth of the matter was that the puppies and the old dogs never got along. They hated us for treating them like the snotty-nosed, ignorant babies they were; we pitied them because they did not know the truths behind the foundation of the EBSS, our secrets within secrets. It was better that way for all of us.

I let go of the curtain and sat still, closing my eyes. I always took a moment to relax and gather myself before a field mission. In just a few minutes, the cart came to a halt.

Twilit Grotto lifted a hoof to the side of his helmet's side. Muffled voices echoed inside, and he set his eyes on the curtain. Well, at least the sounds were voices to him; the enchantments in his helmet tapped into his own magic through his horn. Since the rest of us had not been blessed with horns of our own, all we could make out were unintelligible scraping noises.

When the scraping went silent for a moment, Grotto shot us a glance. “Yes.” His hoof wandered under the curtain again. There came some more scraping from his helmet, then it died with a click. Grotto lifted his visor as he turned to us. “This is it.”

He dropped his visor, and so did Lullaby and I drop ours. River was the last to close his. We needed no more words, for we didn't have time for them. If they didn't know we were here, they would soon enough. Lullaby sent me a nod, and I fluttered my wingblades in turn. She turned to the curtain, and I did as well.

Grotto stood up. One.

He tensed for a jump. Two.

He jumped, his hooves catching the curtain and tearing it from its hangers. The street resounded as the heavily armoured stallion slammed into the pavement, the fallen curtain doing little to ease the impact.

River jumped after him, then Lullaby, and finally I. The pulverised pavement crunched under my hooves like fresh snow.

It was a two-storey building, one among the many luxurious residences along the street. Four doors, one on each side, with a garden in the back.

Grotto ran left, and River ran right. Lullaby and I followed a few paces behind them; she rounded the right corner after River, and I took my place at the front door. In two seconds, Grotto and Lullaby would secure the side doors. In another, River would reach the veranda at the back.

I turned around, shifting weight to my front legs. One.

My old bones creaked under my armour as I lifted my hind legs. I felt blood rush into my head as my shoulders stiffened under the weight. Two.

Enchanted gears ground on one another at my flanks and the armour's inner runes left marks of heat on my skin. Three.

Ready or not, here I come.

I bucked the door with crushing force, splintering the doorframe and sending the broken door flying into the foyer. As I stumbled reeling from the crash, I heard a mare scream. I trampled over the broken door and spread my wingblades wide.

An earth pony mare skidded to a halt before me, her expression one of terror. A cloaked unicorn stopped on the stairs behind her, and an earth stallion bumped into her on his way down. Sorry, folks. Front door's taken.

These were our targets: an earth pony brother and sister, and their mysterious unicorn benefactor. They were all part of the Children of the Night: a cult that worshipped Nightmare Moon as some sort of messianic deity. To say they were a splinter in Princess Celestia's eye would be putting it mildly.

The cloaked unicorn was our prime target, whose name only whispers carried across the night. They called her Priestess Nichts, and what little we'd pieced together from hushed scraps of information painted her as dangerous as she was elusive. For the longest time, we couldn't be certain she existed at all.

Yet here she was now, just as intel said she'd be.

Nichts' long cape and hood fluttered as she jumped to the bottom of the stairs. Around her neck hung an ornate amulet whose central red gem shone in the light of the chandelier. A ceremonial knife followed her in the air, glowing with her horn's red light.

The stallion stayed up on the stairs. “You said we'd be safe!”

His sister stood paralysed by fear, eyes wide and teeth clenched as she slowly shrunk away. I approached her slowly, deliberately; didn't want to scare her away yet. I set my hooves and prepared for my favourite part: the inevitable chase. It should begin right about... now.

Three doors on three sides of the room burst open in the same second.

Twilit Grotto emerged from a dining room on the left, and Lullaby stepped in from a sitting room on the right. River Flow threw open the double doors of the library behind the stairs.

I saw Nichts' teeth glint under her hood as her horn brightened. A tuft of blood-red magic yanked the other mare's mane to shake her out of shock, and the knife flung itself towards the stallion on the stairs.

And here we go.

He caught the knife's handle between his teeth and turned to rush up the stairs; River Flow bolted after him.

In the same moment, Nichts' magic yanked his sister to the left before she bolted the same way – straight towards Twilit Grotto, who set his hooves in the doorway of the dining room.

Lullaby and I lunged after Nichts and the mare.

Nichts ran ahead, magic pulling the frightened mare behind her, and they refused to stop.

Grotto pointed his horn forward as he braced for impact.

Nichts' flashed her horn and jerked her head. The door slammed into Grotto, breaking in two at the impact and knocking him off balance.

Before he could get up, she flashed her horn again. A red bolt of magic threw Grotto straight back into the dining room and sent him smashing across the dining room.

The runes lining our armour's insides didn't just increase our strength and endurance, but also served to dampen the effects of magical bursts. This gear made each of us an unstoppable force and immovable object all in one – almost as good as Princess Luna's Night Guards of old.

That is to say, Grotto getting thrown like a rag doll should not have been possible.

While Grotto clambered out of the remains of the wainscot, Nichts and the mare rushed past him – and Lullaby and I were right behind them.

A long, fancy table divided the dining room in two, ornate chairs on both sides. Nichts ran by the right wall, and the earth mare picked the left. Lullaby followed a step behind the mare as I tailed Nichts.

They were fast – surprisingly so. All the better! I thought. I needed a good workout anyway.

Lullaby threw her visor open to bite on the mare's tail and yank her back. The mare lost balance and fell over; Lullaby jumped across her and continued after Nichts.

Nichts ran on without looking back at her captured friend. Seconds before reaching the door at the far end, she jumped over the table and hurled it at me with a kick of her hind legs. As she reached for the door handle, Lullaby rammed her into the wall.

Nichts threw her off with a flash of her horn and a magical blast, then turned to take off running again.

I dove in hoof-first from the other side, slamming her head into the wall before she could charge another spell.

Lullaby grabbed Nichts' front hooves and twisted them against her chest to push her against the wall. She spread her wings and slammed the blades deep into the wall around Nichts to cage her in.

I picked an inhibitor off my belt: a mask-like device etched with runes that covered a unicorn's forehead and horn.

Lullaby's wings held Nichts in place while she clasped our quarry's head to quell her futile struggles. Flicking her hood off revealed a light-blue coated mare snarling madly at us under a head of scraggy, milk-white mane.

Her breaths came shallow and fast, but she was altogether quiet. The fire burning in her violet eyes as her gaze bounced between us did the talking for her.

So helpless, so pathetic. There were few sights I liked more than a monster in a cage.

She seemed surprisingly young – somewhere in her late teens. How she came to have the impressive magical strength she'd showcased baffled me. We had ways to make her tell us, of course. The very thought made me smile.

When her horn lit up, I quickly slipped the inhibitor onto her horn. The light of her horn fizzled out as the restraint clicked into place.

I put a hoof under her chin. “Better luck next time.” She growled and bit my hoof – looking me in the eye and showing her gums in a snarl as her teeth scraped my armour.

“Whew,” Lullaby sighed. “Glad that's over.”

“I'm not.” I moved my hoof, and Nichts kept her teeth clenched on it. I could've kicked out her teeth right there, but I figured there would be time for that later.

Behind us, Twilit Grotto stood above the earth mare, her front hooves cuffed to her hind ones.

“No,” she pleaded, “please, please no, don't take me away! I can't, I—” Grotto raised one jagged horseshoe above her head, to which she immediately reduced her pleas to quiet whimpers.

I turned back to Nichts and slipped her a wink. “Too easy.”

Grotto nodded towards Nichts. “You tied her up yet?”

I took a pair of cuffs off my belt and gave them to Lullaby. “I'll let you do the honours.”

“Oh, you're too kind,” she said, taking them into her mouth.

The ceiling rumbled under heavy hooves above. There came the sound of glass breaking, a muffled smash and grunt, then the sound of somepony hitting the floor.

I turned my head up and shouted, “Break something?”

A pained cry that most definitely didn't belong to River Flow answered first.

“Not yet,” followed River's raspy, muffled voice.

Twilit Grotto rolled his eyes. “You be good up there, you hear?”

No answer – only the clops and smacks of a thrashing pony being dragged across the floor.

“Well then,” mumbled Lullaby, spitting the cuffs into her hooves. With her wings still pinning Nichts to the wall, Lullaby took one of her legs – and Nichts immediately pulled it back. “Don't make this harder than it needs to be,” she said. “You've got nowhere to go.”

Nichts crossed her legs and closed her eyes, shaking her head and rocking her body.

Lullaby reached for one of her hooves again. “Look, I don't like hurting ponies, but I will if I have to. Do I have to?”

Nichts pulled her hoof back again, but Lullaby yanked it up and twisted it. Nichts winced; she gave a pained groan and finally opened up to look Lullaby in the eye. As she moved to tie her legs together, a grin crept up Nichts' cheeks.

“What's so funny?” I asked. That's when I noticed: the tip of Nichts' horn glowing, bright enough to shine through the inhibitor's black metal. The redness seethed until you couldn't tell the inhibitor was on at all.

The cuffs slipped from Lullaby's grasp. “What in the—”

A roaring explosion blasted across the room, blinding and deafening, sending me tumbling across the air. The heat in my armour seared my skin.

When I could open my eyes, I found myself on the floor inside a burning room. Broken, darkened planks hung from the sunken ceiling, and draperies hung torn and burnt from the walls, sparks racing on the edges. The many chairs – black and broken – lay scattered around the room, their cushions soft beds for embers. Half the long table was gone, reduced to sizzling cinders where the blast had hit.

My ears rang; I couldn't hear a thing. Dust and soot swelled in the air, getting in my eyes and making me cough and sneeze – and through the haze, I saw Nichts make her escape. I jumped to my hooves to give chase without another thought.

The dining room opened into a kitchen, and from there a narrow corridor led past a number of servants' rooms. As Nichts ran, the hallway echoed with her laughter – gloating, confident, arrogant.

That was when it got personal. How dare she make a fool of me! Her laughter etched itself into my memory and made me as fast as I had been in my prime. I'd wipe that hideous grin off her face! My jagged horseshoes tore into the floor, splintering parquet and shredding rich carpets in every room we passed.

As she ran through a sitting room, her horn flashed red and slammed the door shut before me. I had no time or will to stop; I rammed it free from its hinges, ignoring the pain. Breaking through, I saw the tip of her tail zip around a corner.

We emerged in a long hallway lined by tall windows on one side, overlooking the veranda at the back. Gradually, I began closing the distance between us, though I couldn't run any faster; Nichts was slowing down.

Getting tired, little filly?

She set her hooves and slid to a halt, spinning around as she did.

I had a split second to look at her grin before her magic enveloped me. She used my momentum to whip me around – and her magic slammed me through a window like a stone from a sling.

I hit the ground in a rain of glass shards. They fell through the breaths of my visor and collected in my helmet, pricking and tearing my skin. As I rolled to a stop, I saw Nichts leap over me, onto the veranda then out into the garden. I jumped up in time to see her trample across the flower beds and skip onto the ornate stone wall at the back.

There, for just a second, she stood still. Moonlight shone on her cape and hood, her slender form silhouetted against the night sky.

She pulled her hood back and whipped her unkempt mane from her face, grinning triumphantly at me. The inhibitor dangled loosely from her horn, its metal twisted and clasps split.

I jumped for the wall, managed to grab on, and wedged my wingblades into the stone for support. Nichts casually skipped back along the wall with the nimbleness of a cat.

I heard a snap; a sudden sharp pain jabbed my flank. My wingblades slid out of the wall with a jerk and I fell back to the ground. One of my legplates had burst open, and in the hole I saw a rune-inscribed gear click and clack on a broken axle.

While I collected myself, there came the clattering of light armour and the flapping of wings above: the Royal Guard. Nichts took one glance at the sky before looking back at me. She winked before hopping down the other side. As she disappeared behind the wall, I caught a glimpse of her amulet glinting in the moonlight.

Exhausted, I sprawled out on the grass. The broken gear on my leg cast sparks and spun, tearing hairs and grazing skin.

I bashed the back of my head into the ground. After a moment spent sniffing dirt and catching my breath, I pulled myself up. That's when I noticed just how much my ears were ringing – and my head was splitting with it. That blast...

Royal Guards swarmed in the air, squadrons of pegasi flying this way and that. I had no faith that they'd catch the mare. If they had been that competent, they wouldn't have needed us. Or maybe I was just bitter and too proud to admit the years were catching up with me. Some stallions my age were seeing their grandchildren by now.

I gradually eased weight onto my hurt leg and hobbled back to the mansion.

As I was about to enter the back door, another armour-clad stallion came rushing out.

I shook my head. “She's gone, River.”

“Gah!” he groaned, gurgling phlegm in his throat. “What by Nightmare Moon's foal-eating fangs was that?”

“Nichts got through the inhibitor,” I replied, stepping inside. “I don't know how. All I knew was I had to catch her.”

He shoved me. “Astounding job.”

“I trust you've at least got the others.”

“Of course we did. Or at least I caught my mark. Can't say the same about you ponies. Three on two, and you managed to let one slip away.” He rushed on ahead. “Remind me why I don't lead this project.”

By the time we arrived in the dining room again – or what was left of it – the Royal Guards had already descended on the building. Unicorns used their magic to douse the fires and prop the weakened structure as ponies wearing white coats tended to the wounded.

A number of white-coats worked in the middle of the room. Looking above their shoulder, I saw the sister on her side, twitching and gasping shallow breaths, eyes dancing frantically. Her side facing up was all but devoid of hair; crisp, red cracks traced across her blistered, burnt skin.

With every breath, bloody spittle leaked through her teeth, and her entire body convulsed erratically. The cuffs that bound her hooves had heated up in the blast, burning off skin and exposing blackened, cauterised flesh.

The white-coats exchanged a round of nods and affirmative grunts before lifting her onto a stretcher. River didn't stay to watch; he left while grumbling something about needing to take the brother back to the cart.

Where Lullaby had pinned Nichts, there was now a crater in the wall that rivalled the size of a grown stallion. Wedged into the stone behind the broken wainscot hung a solitary, torn wing, its charred blades bent and its pale base drooping from the armour.

A splattering of blood led to the other side of the room, where Lullaby lay crumpled and surrounded by more white-coats. As they slowly peeled off Lullaby's deformed armour – her helmet was already off – Grotto stood by and ran his mouth.

“You need to tell me what happened,” he said, shoving a white-coat aside for a closer look. “I don't get how she escaped. Just tell me.”

A white-coat removed Lullaby's chestplate, and she gave a sigh of relief. Her hairs were a little burnt at the ends, but she seemed otherwise fine. “You saw what happened. She ate through the inhibitor like it was nothing.”

“No way,” Grotto replied. “Celestia herself could barely do that.”

“Why don't you go tell her that?” A white-coat adjusted the tourniquet around the stump where her wing used to be, eliciting a pained hiss. “And remind her how we couldn't even catch that bastard. I imagine the Princess will be very interested in this flustercuck, boss.”

“Yeah, I can barely wait to give my report.” He scoffed. “You must have put it on wrong. Did you hear it click?”

I patted a medic's side before pushing in front of him. “Grotto. How many years have we been working together? Twenty-two, three? You know we don't make this stuff up. I put the inhibitor on, and yes, it clicked.”

They pulled off Lullaby's fetlock-plate. “Yeah,” she said, “lay off. I heard the click too.”

I offered a hoof bump. “I'm just glad you're fine. Apart from, well...”

She bumped my hoof with hers, wincing as we touched. “Fine is a strong word.” She turned back to Grotto. “What happened, happened. Don't ask me how.”

Grotto opened his mouth to respond, but his helmet sounded with scarping. He pressed a hoof to the side of it and turned the other way. “Yeah, yeah, we're on it. And tell those dimwits to scour the city for the unicorn.” His helmet resounded with a click and the scraping stopped. “The Royal Guard,” he mumbled, “more like the royal pain in my—”

“Sir!” said a white-coat, gesturing at Lullaby. “Shall we take her?”

Grotto rolled his eyes with a sigh, then stepped back and nodded. “Yes, just move her already, get her out of here.”

They moved a stretcher closer and reached for Lullaby, only for her to shake them off. “I'm okay, seriously, no need for that.”

She clambered to her hooves, only managing to take one step before falling over. Without trying to get up, she clenched her teeth and groaned. This time, she didn't object to being placed on the stretcher.

As the coats took her away, I laid a hoof on her shoulder. “You stay strong now, big girl.”

She grinned. “When don't I?”

Grotto opened his visor to rub his eyes. “What a mess,” he grumbled. “Inhibitors always work. How didn't it work?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” I said. “It's something we'll have to ask Nichts later. So what about the stallion?”

“At least we got him. River was already escorting him outside when the explosion went off, and the Royals were quick to get him afterwards.”

“It's not all bad, then.”

Grotto leaned closer, lowering his voice to a whisper. “He doesn't matter. Neither does little miss roasted-flanks. Priestess Nichts was our big prize here, and we let her slip away.”

It didn't hurt when River chewed me out; I was used to that. Hearing Twilit Grotto say that we messed up – that I messed up – got to me, however. Tension built inside me until I could no longer contain it – and I released it in the form of a stomp that cracked the parquet.

“Next time we see her,” I said, “I'm shackling her myself.”

“I'll hold you to that.” He turned around, whistling towards a Royal Guard who wore the most elaborate – and least practical – suit of armour. The captain of the bunch, I imagined. “You, come here.”

The captain was by no means a small stallion, yet he walked over with nervous steps – eyeing the cracked floor under my hoof. He stood at attention and saluted. “Y-yes, sir.” Grotto didn't return the formality, and I didn't feel like it either.

“Docs tending to the victims upstairs?” Grotto asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Your Royals are to make a thorough sweep. I trust they've been briefed on what to expect. Check for hidden rooms and crannies. Pull on every book, every candle, check every loose brick. And speaking of a thorough sweep...”

He wrapped a leg around my shoulder, pulling me closer and knocking on my chestplate with the tip of a hoof. “He will stay here and watch. You don't get in his way, and you don't speak to him unless you're spoken to.”

He turned to whisper in my ear. “Make sure they don't miss anything.”

“Oh,” I sighed, “why do I have to be the one?”

“Because you let her run away,” Grotto replied, smirking. “But mostly because I said so.”

I rolled my eyes. “Well, then.”

The captain had relaxed his pose by now, but jerked to attention when I turned to him. “Get me a scribe, then let's get started.”

When the foundations of Canterlot were laid some twenty years ago, the nobles protested. They had been restless since the banishment of Princess Luna, crying tyranny at every choice Princess Celestia made in her solitary rule.

Canterlot was to become a symbol of renewal. Like a phoenix rising from the ashes, so would Equestria grow great again after its darkest hour. The Old City in the Everfree would be left as a memorial: a reminder of ages past, and a symbol of past sins forgiven but not forgotten. The memories of the Longest Night haunted us all, and few were the ponies who could stand another day in that accursed city.

But oh, the nobles could never be pleased. The new city had been called a waste of resources: a frivolity at best, nothing but a testament to the hubris of Princess Celestia. At worst, Canterlot showed how little the Princess cared for her 'little ponies', sacrificing Equestria's wealth on the altar of her own self-pity.

She could not accept that she played any part in her sister's descent into madness, neither could she explain why she had stood idly by as Nightmare Moon ravaged the land. Canterlot was a distraction – for herself, and for the commoners. Or so the nobles said. It was not in my place to judge.

None of that stopped the nobles from moving their families to the new city when Celestia commissioned her palace near the mountain's peak. Mansions and private villas soon cropped up to litter the mountainside. It wasn't long before they became theatres of conspiracy.

Many were those who would have seen Princess Celestia dethroned. Haughty nobles hid their lust for power and wealth under a cloak of righteousness; Equestria could not possibly prosper under the rule of one supreme princess without a fellow diarch to keep her in line. These ponies were the first the Equestrian Bureau for State Security removed, or otherwise convinced to see things the Princess' way.

Over the two decades since the Longest Night and the institution of the EBSS, the enemies of Equestria had grown clever – and none were as insidious as the Children of the Night. A common misconception about cultists is that they are fools. They are not. The truth about the Children was far more frightening: they were ponies who were genuinely convinced that releasing Nightmare Moon from her prison would save the world.

One wouldn't have known the mansion was a cultist base. It wasn't until one walked up the stairs that the truth began to crystallise.

The Royal Guards knew their job: to document everything. Unicorns sat in every corner, sheets of paper floating around them as they sketched each room in astounding detail. My personal scribe was a young unicorn mare – straight out of school by the looks of it – a child by any standard. But she knew how to keep her mouth shut and to work her quill quickly, so I had no right to complain.

Upstairs, tomes stood in tall stacks, scrolls filled with forbidden spells lined the shelves, and paintings of Nightmare Moon hung from the walls. The Royal Guards had already began packing all of these, to be locked away in the cavernous vaults and forbidden wings of the Canterlot Archives.

A string of disappearances had the EBSS scratching their collective heads for the better part of this last year. We'd always suspected that the Children might be behind it, but it was only through a few lucky breaks in the previous months that we'd managed to track down the missing ponies – all the way to this residence.

In the upstairs guest rooms, we found the victims of the cult. They lay on thin pillows of hay, dead or comatose through forbidden potions and magicks. Skin hung loose from their weak bones and bedsores littered their undersides. Their stomachs and chests showed the marks of dissections stitched, torn, and stitched hastily together again. I even saw a few maggots festering in necrotic wounds – and oh, the smell of rot and bodily humours...

Their magic-induced dreams were no escape for those still alive – if one considered this life at all. Their faces screwed up with fear and pain from some unseen terror, their legs twitching from time to time as though trying to run from their nightmares.

My scribe kept it professional. Or at least she tried – I saw how rapidly she blinked and how little her eyes lingered on the victims, preferring instead to bury her gaze in her parchments as she documented the horrors she witnessed. The parchments floated close to her mouth, perhaps to cover her wavering lips.

I envied her innocence. The worst part was that this by far wasn't the worst thing I'd seen in my life.

On the one hoof, now we had confirmation that Nichts was indeed real as opposed to a clever ploy to lead our investigation astray. On the other, our blunder tonight all but ensured we wouldn't be hearing from her any time soon. I hated myself for not catching her. These poor souls deserved justice.

The biggest room of the upper floor might have once been a lounge; it now served as a chapel devoted to Nightmare Moon. Thick curtains draped before the windows, keeping at bay the dim light of the oil lamps outside. Little passed in the way of furniture; crystal-engraved chandeliers shone upon the bare, red marble floor. A black carpet ran between rows of mats and pillows that lay scattered on the floor in place of pews, all the way to a dais and a pulpit upon it.

As I approached the dais, my scribe scrambled to write everything down, ink spilling and papers crumpling in the air all around her. She even broke a quill or two – but she proved herself prepared, having brought spares.

A tome lay open on the pulpit, bound in leather. The illustrations on the open pages explained a chilling ritual: the dissection of a pony's chest to remove and prepare the heart for purposes I had no desire to guess. If the description was to be believed, this magic would keep the heart beating – and the unfortunate victim alive – for hours even after the organ had been removed.

Not that the tome wasn't interesting, but it could not hold my attention for long.

An enormous fresco spread out on the wall behind the pulpit. Nightmare Moon stood triumphant over a defeated Celestia, her head surrounded by a halo of the brightly glowing Moon. Although Celestia lay crumpled and bloody on the grassy hill, Nightmare Moon's hoof was extended towards her not in anger, but as an offer of help. As Celestia reached for her sister's hoof, even her expression was one of hope rather than fear.

'The Night is darkest before the Dawn', read the large, ornate letters under the pair.

Whoever had made this piece of art must have thought themselves profound. Clearly they didn't know Nightmare Moon very well. It was a shame to see such talent wasted on insanity. I had to compliment the Children on creating all this right under our noses, however. The EBSS was losing its touch.

On a stone altar under the fresco lay a mare who had met an unfortunate end. Splintered ribs pierced through her collapsed chest, and a ceremonial knife stood wedged in her throat. The blood had barely dried. Beside the altar I saw shards of a shattered jar in a pool of some pungent, greenish liquid, and what I took to have been a heart trampled and splattered over it all.

I recognised the blade lodged in the mare's throat as the one Nichts had thrown to her accomplice before they ran off in different directions. So the knife wasn't for self-defence at all; the stallion was meant to get rid of their sacrificial mare. By the looks of it, River had been too slow to stop him. Funny how he'd forgotten to mention that little bit of trivia.

I could not stop myself from turning to the gigantic depiction of Nightmare Moon again. The Nightmare Moon I had known would never have offered a hoof to Celestia, for she held only contempt for all the world. Although the artist didn't get her mannerisms right, I admired how lifelike the depiction was. I felt as though I was indeed standing in the terrifying mare's shadow.

The more I looked, the more memories returned. Her perverse laughter echoing through the Old City. Her teeth at my ears. Her tongue on my neck. Her madness in my mind. My heart raced, and a bead of sweat collected on my forehead.

“Did you see her?”

Turning, I saw my young scribe looking at me. At my stare, she shrunk away and turned her eyes to the floor.

“I'm sorry.” She shook her head, then stood at attention. “I apologise, sir.” A fresh sheet of paper flew out of her bag, and she quickly put a quill to it, turning her attention to the fresco. By the way she bit her lower lip, I could tell how nervous she was.

“Why does it matter?” I asked.

Her quill stopped. She stared at it for a moment before looking up at me. “Well, it's just... I was...” She looked away for a moment, taking a deep breath. “I was about two when it happened, sir, and I—”

“Call 'it' by its name: the Longest Night.” The way kids treated the event never ceased to amuse me.

She gulped. “I was so young when the Longest Night happened. And we lived quite far away from the Old City, sir. We were lucky, the village was barely harmed.”

I raised a brow. “What does that have to do with me?”

“The way you looked at it, sir.” She poked a quill towards Nightmare Moon. “I ask with all due respect, and I'd understand if it isn't something you'd wish to talk about, sir. Were you in the Old City when it... I mean, when the Longest Night happened, sir? Is this how she looked?”

I turned back towards the image of Nightmare Moon. “Have we checked every room?”

“Uhm...” I heard the sound of papers flying about. “Y-yes, sir. I believe so, sir. I've been told t-there might be hidden r—”

“I'll leave those to the rest of the Royals.” Turning, I began walking out of the chapel. “A cart should be waiting for me outside. I'll want your documents there.”

“Yes, sir.” She quickly rolled up her papers and followed me.

“And as for Nightmare Moon...” I stopped to look at her, and she froze under my stare. “The less you know about her, the better. Believe me.” With that, I continued walking.

I didn't hear her move for another second or two. “Yes, sir,” she finally said.

I didn't like how the raid on the mansion had gone. Yet as the cart took me back to the headquarters, a smirk somehow found its way onto my lips. The owner of the mansion had been a thorn in the Princess' side for quite a while, advising against her decisions and rallying other nobles to voice dissent as well. To add insult to injury, the old fool had come from a bloodline so diluted that he was noble on paper only.

Princess Celestia had long been looking for an excuse to oust his family of bottom feeders from the Senate. It would seem her search had been in vain, for he had provided a reason on a silver platter. I was already imagining all the ways he'd protest. Certainly he didn't know about the massive cultist operation in his expensive yet conspicuously unused summer house – which lay just on the other side of the city from his even more luxurious home.

I knew we could find proof if we wanted. I also knew we didn't have to. An old, frail stallion like him – a day spent in the interrogation room would loosen his tongue. And if it doesn't, well, he might find his granddaughter stripped of her noble rank entirely and banished from Canterlot due to certain information regarding her pastime activities coming to light.

For ponies like him, I had no pity. Anypony who worked for the Children of the Night deserved punishment.

As for the cultists themselves, we would first have to see if the mare would survive the night. At the same time, we would begin interrogation on her brother. We would capture Priestess Nichts and unravel her entire wretched cult once and for all.

The cultists were not fools. Fools could not brew potions that kept their victims in perpetual nightmares. A fool could not have painted Nightmare Moon in all her horrifying glory. Fools could not have performed intricate surgeries to harvest the organs of live ponies.

Thinking back to the cruelty I'd witnessed in that mansion, my nose scrunched up with disgust. In my mind, I could find only one word to adequately describe the Children of the Night.

Monsters.

For Your Own Benefit

Princess Celestia

To ponies today, I am the bastion of harmony: the bringer of light and peace, the one good, great Princess Celestia. Countless generations have praised me and poured my name into song and prayer – and I have grown used to it.

But once upon a time, my little ponies did not see me this way. There was a time when I did not deserve the praise, a time of which I am most ashamed: one that I've buried under a thousand years' worth of lies. When I was little, Star Swirl the Bearded once told me that one's character is determined not by meticulously planned actions, but by those taken hastily in times of crisis.

I have learned, by now, the chess game of fate; I learned because I had to. I would not be alive if I did not know how to bend the lives and futures of mortal ponies. When you have the opportunity to see the ramifications of your actions across the centuries, when you start to behold the intertwining streams of myriad little destinies, only then do you realise the power of even one solitary sentence.

I have witnessed the rise of bloodlines with the birth of first sons and seen them perish with the death of the last, and nopony ever knew that it had been the subtle touch of my hoof that guided and twisted their paths. I know that fate had bestowed upon me this life so I could toil for the good of all of us – and the good of all who would come in the millennia ahead.

There was a time long ago when I was careless, and I paid the price with that which I held most dear. I lost Equestria's innocence, and with it, my own.

I have only seen one monster in my life, and her name was Nightmare Moon.

The heart of Princess Luna, my dear sister, had long been consumed by the Nightmare. She fought bravely, valiantly – but Nightmare Moon was not a foe she could defeat alone. When she called out to me in desperation, I dismissed her concerns, unable to recognise what was at stake. A humbling lesson in the nature of pride.

The Longest Night is a testament to my failure as a sister when Luna needed me the most.

For two weeks, Nightmare Moon laid waste to Equestria. Born of hate and mired in jealousy, she cared for nothing but to bring about the death of her world. Corpses and ash followed in her wake.

For two weeks, I stood by and watched. I denied what I saw with my very eyes; I refused to admit that my sweet sister would turn away from me. For two weeks I pleaded, I begged, I grovelled, and I threatened – and when she spat in my face, I watched.

When I could watch no longer, the Elements of Harmony put an end to the turmoil in a flash of light.

As my little ponies mourned for the lost, they cursed the heavens, and with them, they cursed my dear sister. Yet there was nothing and nopony they cursed as they cursed me. After Nightmare Moon, my magical powers turned from an inspiration into a clear and present threat to all that lived. After the Longest Night, I had proven myself incapable of rule.

For years, the only time anypony looked me in the eye was to hurl abuse and contempt. Gone were the smiles, gone were the praise and the songs and the prayers. My little ponies changed – and I changed in kind. The guilt became too heavy to bear. I broke under its weight.

I became ruthless, harsh, even cruel: a mirror to reflect the world in the Longest Night's wake. I made a promise to myself and to the Mare in the Moon: I would drag Equestria by the mane from the ashes of the Longest Night, and I would do it if she kicked and screamed in protest.

The decades that followed the Longest Night were the hardest, for all of Equestria, and for me. I walked on the razor's edge; one slip and I might have become a nightmare worse than my sister. In my darkest days, it was the story of two little ponies that would help me see the light.

It was, perhaps, because of Swift Sweep – and a young mare named New Page – that I did not become a monster myself.

New Page

I've always been a night pony.

The half-built spire of the Palace loomed above the city, its long shadow splitting the light of the Moon overhead. The spire stood dressed in a suit of scaffolding and rickety walkways: bustling with workers and booming with the sounds of construction during the day, and an abandoned maze of metal bars and wooden boards at night. A hundred and more little nooks and crannies for the sly visitor.

High in the tower, a Royal Guard perched atop a pillar that yet supported no ceiling. From his teeth hung a heavy lantern aglow with burning oil, and his eyes glistened in the light as they scanned the streets below. When his head turned my way, I hid in the shadows of a great stone window frame.

This wasn't the first time I've been here when I shouldn't have, and I did not expect it to be the last. I readied myself for a swift flight upwards, waiting for the moment the guard turned the other way.

An explosion roared across Canterlot, giving me a jump. The scaffolds all around me resonated with the blast, and all the different sections of it pattered and clattered against one another.

After a moment of fright, I managed to collect myself. Above, the Royal Guard stood on three legs, one raised in suspense and head stuck forwards, ears turned towards a distant street. Amidst the quiet mansions lining the mountainside whose windows bore no light, one building stood lit by the unmistakable lights of dancing flames.

Another Royal Guard whisked past the Moon, banking for the burning home in the distance. A second later, the sky came alive as a swarm of guards rose from the walls of the Palace and the alleyways of the city, each descending on the same point far away.

The guard on the perch spread his wings, and with a jump and a flap, he was off too. Although I had no clue what caused the blast – and hoped that nopony was hurt – I thanked the powers that be for the timing. Not many guards remained at their posts near the spire, and even they had their attention directed towards the action in the distance.

Lifting a hoof, I looked into the bauble bracelet around my fetlock. A dark, dim image of myself reflected back, giving me a reassuring look. The bracelet had been a gift and a good luck charm from my mother when I was little.

Well, Mama, it's time to see if it still works.

After adjusting my saddlebag for a tighter fit, I too unfurled my wings and jumped. I kept close to the spire as I approached the top, staying inside the labyrinth of scaffolds and suspensions. I never liked to stay in the air for long; instead I made fast swoops from board to board, pausing at each stop to look for spying eyes.

As I came around the spire in a glide, I saw a guard turn his head my way. With one powerful flap on my wings, I forced myself to stop and twisted my path the other way to quickly disappear behind the wall.

My heart began to race as I heard the wings of the guard behind me. I took a sharp left then broke into a quick dive to grab onto the underside of the scaffold a level below.

From there I watched as the guard flew high, squinting his eyes and craning his neck this way and that.

With a final shrug, he turned around and returned to his post.

I let go of the scaffold and shot straight up, spending less than a second in plain sight before flying through a window on the spire's highest floor.

There would yet be several more levels to this tower before it was finished. For now, the only ceiling this floor had was a crude blanket of plain cloth held up by iron bars to protect the unplastered walls from unscheduled rain or heavy wind. Tonight, this room would be my point of entry. All that stood between me and the stairwell was a simple wooden door and a rusty iron lock – to be replaced, doubtlessly, once they began furnishing the insides of the spire.

As I took a few steps back, readying to ram the door, the Mare in the Moon eyed me through a small tear in the tarp above. It felt strange to think that to anypony older than me, the Mare in the Moon was a peculiarity. For thousands of years the Moon had been bare, but I'd never known any other Moon.

The Mare in the Moon had always watched me snoop around in the night, and I found myself taking a liking to her; she never told anypony. A small cloud passed before her eye as though she'd just winked. I sent back a wink of my own and a playful grin, just because.

I rushed the door, slamming my shoulder into it, and the frame broke at the lock. It only needed a few more determined bucks for the lock to fall and the door to creak open.

The pain in my shoulder hit me when I passed through. I dropped to my rump and set my back against the door.

“Oh, stars...” I hissed through clenched teeth and rubbed my shoulder. “Gosh.” I circled my shoulder around and listened for the pleasing pops. Next time I should just steal a key. But I did it, I figured. I may have been but a girl from the outside, but I still had some fight in me. I paid attention not to put too much weight on that leg as I stood up.

I must have been a dozen or two floors above ground. Going down I didn't mind much; it was the return trip that bothered me. I didn't come to infiltrate Canterlot Palace, see. Not that there was much to see here yet; much of the building stood entirely vacant and unfurnished, waiting for the façades to be finished first. Only the bottom few floors were finished, starting with the Princess' suite.

I knew there were many treasures to be had there: century-old urns and paintings, rooms where even the curtains were gilded with gold – but I wasn't here for such riches. I came looking for a different kind of prize, the kind that I – and the pony who convinced me to do this in the first place – personally valued the most. I was after knowledge.

Not that I was a professional thief stealing for rich clients across the country, though I fancied the thought; neither was I some kind of avenger or bringer of justice that stole from the rich to feed the poor, although sometimes I did fantasise. No, it was just an old friend asking for favours. She had the means to get in, and I had the ability, so we struck a deal.

It took a few minutes to reach the base of the spire. The way down had been uneventful; no guards, no nothing. The tricky part was still ahead, with all the lovely patrols I knew I'd run across. Over my previous visits, I'd come to learn that most of them were concentrated towards Celestia's suite and the treasury, thinning out in other places. That was good.

Just as I stepped out of the stairwell into the lavish foyer of the Palace, I heard the rattling of armour, making me slink right back. A pair of Royal Guards – one unicorn and one pegasus – walked lazily by. The spear of the unicorn floated beside its owner, while the pegasus used his as a walking stick, knocking it against the floor with every step as the two discussed something about mares.

What I liked about the Royal Guards was that even when they kept their mouths shut, they could still be heard coming a mile away. Once the duo disappeared behind a corner towards the treasury, I hurried off in the opposite direction.

The wide halls of the palace offered only a precious few opportunities to hide to the unwelcome visitor, and the light of the Moon poured through the tall windows that connected the marble floor to the ornate ceiling. Progress could never be quick: go too fast, and the sound of your hooves will give you away, but go too slowly and you'll surely be caught by the next patrol. It was a fine line – one I've learned to tread with careful steps.

Passing under the archway that connected the foyer to the next room, I heard another patrol on its way. I narrowly avoided being spotted by ducking under a stairway that led to an overlooking balcony.

One turn to the left took me to the servants' residence. Unlike the hallways of the palace, this section was small, its halls tiny, narrow, and windowless. Though candlesticks adorned the walls between the rooms of Celestia's many servants – maids, cooks, butlers, what have you – none of them were lit, leaving me reliant on the little light that seeped in from either end of the hallway.

My eyes quickly adjusted to the near pitch-blackness. Mama always told me I'd ruin them by reading at night all the time. Well look, Mama – I didn't.

Another thing about the servants' quarter was that Celestia appeared to trust them entirely. No patrols. So long as none of them got up to have a tinkle, and I kept the clopping of my hooves quiet, I could pass right by. I liked this section the most; calm and homely, really, and cheap carpets covered the floors to reduce the clopping of your steps. Ah, but I couldn't stay here. Maybe one day I'd get a job at the Archives, I thought – then I could perhaps land a room in the Palace. Would've been a lot more comfortable than my current rat hole.

Another turn left, and a short pace down a corridor on the right. I was halfway through when I heard the sounds of heavy, armoured steps. Looking back, I saw rays of light creep along the floor of the servants' quarter – and a unicorn stepping around the corner. I had to give it to Celestia: that was new.

All I could do was take off running. This corridor led directly into the Archives, and that's where I was headed. Emerging there, I found myself once again in a wide, well-lit space. I kicked off from the ground and flew up above the doorway, into the slim shadow where a pillar met the ceiling.

Breath held, I waited. The unicorn emerged beneath me shortly, with an orb of magical light floating beside him. I'd learned to hover in complete silence back when I was a little, even before I even learned to read – a skill I used many times to prank Mama. She'd think I was gone, freak out, then bam: surprise snuggles. I was that kind of kid.

The unicorn stopped and flashed his horn. The orb of light bolted off, making a quick lap around the Archives' anteroom, pausing briefly in front of each long hallway that led to a different wing.

As I slunk further behind the pillar, the orb's light briefly caught the tip of my hoof. The unicorn looked up – and thought I felt my heart stop beating for just a second. The guard perked his ears and squinted. I pressed myself against the other side of the pillar and grabbed on, pulling my wings in.

I couldn't see him, but I heard him walk around. It took all I had in me to painstakingly crawl around the pillar to keep out of sight. Whenever I felt my hooves slip, I grabbed on harder. I could feel the stone grind against my very bones.

The guard stopped again. After a moment, the orb of light descended back to him and he retreated into the corridor he had come from. I'd have given a sigh of relief, had I not ran out of breath after holding it for so long.

Oh, the sweet taste of air! I stretched my legs and took a moment to gather my thoughts.

The Canterlot Archives were a maze of stairs and twisting hallways, patrolled only scantly by the guards. I knew to avoid the better protected areas. My destination was the Lunar Wing: the one named in honour of the banished Princess of the Night that held knowledge which Celestia deigned to spare from us simple mortals. One had to wonder why she wanted to have the memory of her sister buried.

Still, I was grateful that the books my friend wanted to, er, borrow were in the Lunar Wing as opposed to a better-guarded one. It was locked, to be sure, but I had ways. From the entrance of the public University Wing, you could just see the Lunar Wing's enchanted gates around the bend. I'd sneaked a few peeks during my long hours spent studying in the Archives; not too much of course, because the guards didn't like it when ponies looked.

On the path I took across the place, I'd have to pass before the Star Swirl the Bearded Wing first. Now that one was a tough nut. Rumours had it that the wing contained spells that tampered with the very fabric of reality and the nature of life itself, and that the entire wing had been constructed as a sort of conduit between worlds.

There were who knows how many spells sealing it off from the outside world, not to mention the platoon of guards that patrolled the halls that led to it every hour of the day. I may have been good, but not good enough to get in the Star Swirl the Bearded Wing.

No use philosophising – I had classes for that. Best get going.

Thick curtains draped over the Archives' great windows, and in the light that crept in between them, the Mare in the Moon watched me run. Ever silent, never judging.

Hiding behind a curtain or taking a quick turn down another corridor was enough to get past the occasional guard, and I had to do a roll mid-air to get past the guards before the gates of the Star Swirl the Bearded Wing. Apart from those little bumps in the road, traversing the Archives wasn't particularly difficult. I liked to think that I was just that good.

It took but a few minutes to reach the tall gate of the Lunar Wing. Close to its surface, I could hear the air vibrate and whistle, making the hairs on my muzzle stand on end, the magicks that held the gate shut resonating in an invisible aura.

A quick look to the right; a peek to the left; the coast was clear, no sounds of rattling armour to be heard. I threw my saddlebag down to quickly dive into it. Books filled most of the space inside; blank, all of them. At the bottom I finally found the thing I needed: the Picklock Ruby. Picking it up, I hefted it in my hoof. It was heavier than it looked.

Not my creation, of course. I was a history student, not a spellcrafter. My friend usually supplied me with all the things I needed to get in and out of the Archives. Did she make them? Well, I never took her to be a magical prodigy. But I didn't know, and I didn't care. I didn't pretend to understand how enchanted gemstones worked.

All I needed was to know how to use it. I placed the ruby against the keyhole, then took my hoof away. The ruby remained in the air. Tendrils of red light sprouted from the gem, creeping into the hole and boring into the gate itself.

This was the deal: Flora Dawn provided the means to access the library, and I would sneak in to lift a few books for her. In return, I'd get to keep a few of them. We worked with the mutual agreement that neither of us asked questions. It was safer that way, for both of us.

As the gem worked on the lock, I looked around again. Still nopony.

The light of the gem gave out, letting it fall. I caught it before it could clatter on the floor. A shimmering wave washed outwards from the keyhole over the gate's surface, then back in before dissipating entirely. The whistling in the air stopped.

Confirming that there was still nopony watching me, I quickly got inside, easing the gate gently back into its frame as I shut it behind myself. By the time I took my second step away, the whistling started again.

Why would a young pony such as I risk the dungeons, banishment, or worse for a few books? I wasn't sure myself. On the one hoof, I was confident in my abilities not to be caught. Frankly, I found myself enjoying the thrills of doing something I shouldn't. On the other hoof, the Longest Night had always fascinated me. I could have no memories of it – having been born just a week or two before it – but I had a burning desire to find out more.

So this was it, the great Lunar Wing, home to knowledge that Celestia would have buried. If she didn't want anypony to see, perhaps she should've buried it all indeed. From my saddlebag, I fished out a piece of paper: a list of books that Flora wanted on this run. She had listed some by title, others by author, others merely by topic; whatever relevant I could get my hooves on, she said, would do.

We were careful not to lift too many books per occasion, so as not to draw attention. The later they figured out the books were missing – if at all – the better it was for us. The blank tomes in my saddlebag served to aid that deception: I'd use them to replace what I took so as to make the theft less glaring.

From the first level, I took Star Swirl's 'Soul Link: A Study of Luna's Fractured Spirit'. From the balcony overlooking the rest of the wing, I lifted 'Memoirs in the Night': a brief collection of stories from not long before the Longest Night, signed by one 'Silhouette'.

Next, I'd have to find a book on the creation of the Night Guards, if indeed such a thing existed. Anything I could find – a single passage in a grimoire, a spell scroll – would be enough. Best start looking, I figured, in the spellcrafting section. That was on the ground floor and just around a corner. I hopped onto the balcony rails and unfurled my wings, readying to quickly glide to the lower floor.

The rattling of armour.

My heart skipped a beat as I snapped my head towards the gate.

Hoofsteps, many of them. The gate's magicks whirled, winking in and out. They were unlocking the gate.

But I hadn't been followed. How did they—

A wave of magic washed over the gate.

I leapt from the balcony, slamming a shoulder into the bookshelf standing nearest the gate. Didn't care for the pain. If I didn't walk right for a few days, that'd be a small price to pay for not getting caught.

The shelf tipped over, books flying everywhere, and slammed into the gate. As the final spell-lock evaporated and the guards outside tried to pour inside, they found the gate barricaded by the shelf.

But that means I couldn't get out either. Okay, keep calm, I told myself. And stop chewing your lips, ponies'll ask questions. I'd always told myself this wouldn't happen. I was just that good, after all.

The guards banged on the gate, but the bookshelf was too heavy to budge.

Okay, cool it. I flicked my mane behind my back and rubbed the sides of my head. Flora made sure I came prepared.

The ceiling held a memory of Princess Luna: two storeys up, a stained glass window portrayed the Princess of the Night curled up in peaceful slumber within the Moon. Beautiful it may have been, but it was also a serious security flaw. To make sure nopony got into the Lunar Wing by breaking the window, they had barred it with steel – from the inside, weirdly enough. Perhaps Celestia wanted her sister to have a good view of the window from the heavens? From my view it became a poetic picture, in a way, of Luna sleeping behind prison bars.

As the guards banged on the gate, yelling for me to come out and for their peers to move, move, move. I didn't know how long the barricade would hold, but I wasn't sticking around to find out. Reaching into my saddlebag with a hoof, I flew up to the stained glass window and took out another red gemstone.

This gem had a groove carved into its cylindrical shape to fit snugly onto the window's bars. I knocked a hoof on the gemstone's side and slipped it onto the middle bar.

The banging on the gate continued, and I saw unicorn magic creep across its surface. As my hoof pressed the gemstone onto the bar above, I felt the gem radiate heat, glowing brighter every second.

Unicorn auras permeated the gate and crept slowly onto the bookshelf.

The bar seethed red at the touch of the gemstone. Come on, come on...

There was a loud bang, making me flinch and drop the gem. Diving after it, I saw magic blast the bookshelf away from the gate. It slid away and rocked in place, nearly tipping over the other way before settling upright.

I reached for the falling ruby, but my hoof only knocked it away. It clattered on the ground, splitting at the side; red glow seethed from the crack. When I tried to pick it up, it burned my hoof.

The gate began to creak open. I flew up to the side of the bookshelf and bucked it, sending it falling back onto the gate. As I burst up to the window, I found the bar already cold but deformed.

Without thinking, I flipped my belly up, wrapping my forehooves around the deformed bar and setting my hind hooves against the others around it. I pulled downward with all my might, grunting, screaming through clenched teeth. I beat my wings with everything I had for leverage against the bar.

My legs burned and my bones felt like they were going to break. Just when I thought my muscles would rip, the bar broke in two, bending under the pressure of my hooves.

Magic again swelled around the gate, and the banging continued. I began banging on the bent bar, hammering it with both hooves in a desperate frenzy to create an opening. My eyes began to tear up from the pain, and my lungs choked out an involuntary grunt every time my hoof impacted the metal.

Little by little, hit by hit, the bar bent. Once there was just enough space for me to crawl through, I turned and bucked the stained window – right at Luna's heart. As I shielded my face, I heard the glass shatter. The entire window came down around me, starting from the centre, showering the room with colourful shards.

As I climbed through the narrow space between the bent bar and the next, I heard the bookshelf fall over and the gate open.

There were few guards outside – they must have been called away to investigate the explosion earlier that night. Good, good for me.

With one quick glance back, I saw one pegasus flying for me. I turned and shot away, too quick for the armoured guard to follow, and disappeared behind Canterlot Palace. I darted through the scaffolds and walkways, hitting my wing on suspensions and unchiselled outcrops, but I didn't care.

My heart beat in my throat. I never knew I could fly so fast.

I turned here, I dove there, I whisked in whatever direction my eyes first saw, never looking back and refusing to slow down.

Finally my wings gave out, and I crashed somewhere near the park in the branches of a tall tree. I curled onto a branch and breathed shallow breaths, struggling to keep from throwing up. I paid no attention to the burning in my lungs.

After a minute, my heart finally calmed, and my mind cleared. Perching on the branch, I looked around from the relative safety of the dense foliage and found no pursuers. With a quick check on my fetlock, I found Mama's bracelet safe and sound around my leg. “You did well,” I whispered. “Really well.”

Then I realised I couldn't feel my saddlebag.

I jumped up, stomach clenching and panic washing over me like a cold shower – only to see the bag hanging by a strap from a broken branch above.

With a sigh of relief, I looked at the bracelet again. “You cheeky little thing.”

I lifted the bag off the branch and leaned my back at the trunk of the tree, taking the bag into my lap. Though I didn't get to use most of the blank tomes, at least both of the books I'd taken were inside. So that's something.

I looked around again, and found everything clear. It took me a second to process it. I'd done it. I got away.

As I hugged my bag like it was my baby, I caught myself giggling. I cut it short by stuffing a hoof in my mouth; let's not alarm the guards, I figured. I did it. Though I didn't think I'd be going back to the Archives any time soon. Not at night, anyway.

Throwing the bag over my back, I carefully hopped down from the tree before running home. It wasn't illegal to walk around Canterlot, after all. I kept my head down, of course – and made sure to take only roads without streetlights for good measure.

My Canterlot home was a small apartment among many towards the southern end of the city. Little more than a hole dug into the rocks of the mountain, really – but I was glad to have my scholarship cover this much. Celestia wasn't very popular – not that anypony would've said this out loud – but for my part, I liked her. For her reforms in education, if nothing else.

But of course, it was just her way of pushing lies onto the ignorant public and training a new generation of brainwashed youth, if the frustrated mutterings of old ponies were to be believed.

From the little porch of my apartment, I took one last look at the unfinished spire of the Palace, and the little black dots that were the guards swirling around it in the moonlight. So long, boys.

I kicked my door shut and stumbled into my room. A quick flick of my hoof sent the bag sliding under the bed. I finally took off my bracelet – one again thanking it for its powers of good fortune – and placed it in the drawer of my desk. Surely I'd exhausted its magic by now; best let the poor thing rest.

I butted the drawer in, then collapsed into bed.

The lecture hall slowly filled up as students drifted in, one by one. Well, 'filled' would be putting it strongly. Not many ponies in Equestria got to study at the University of Canterlot, and even fewer chose to study the field I did. Unicorn nobles would most often shove their children into spellcrafting – the most privileged might get to study under Star Swirl himself – while others chose to pursue rhetoric or geometry and astronomy. These were by far the most lucrative fields.

I dabbled in astronomy myself, just as a hobby; my main interests lay elsewhere.

For a common pony like me who relied on the scholarship afforded by the Treasury, studying history was unheard of. I liked to think of myself as some sort of pioneer. I was the youngest of our small group, and last night's little excursion didn't stop me from being the first one to arrive to class. Again.

In a strange symmetry, the oldest of us – some seven years or so older than me – would always arrive fifth and last. Right on cue, the gates of the lecture hall burst open behind me. I didn't have to turn to know who had just arrived.

Storming Falls was a brash pegasus, and a disgrace to Commander Hurricane's bloodline. I wouldn't have been surprised to find out I knew more about her than he did. He threw himself into his usual place at the desk behind me and mumbled his greetings.

“Hey.” His breath smelled of a night drowned in expensive wine and cheap mares.

From the way he'd eye me, I always thought he fancied me. I threw a quick “Good morning” his way before turning forward again. Mama would have killed me for brushing off a noble stallion like that, but in all honesty, he creeped me out.

Storming poked my wing. “You hear that explosion last night?”

I shuddered at his touch. “Who didn't?”

“It was on High Street,” he said, leaning closer. “A cousin lives there. Said it was an EBSS raid gone wrong. Said he saw bodies, a lot of 'em.”

I looked him dead in the eye. That made him shrink back. “If the EBSS is involved, it's best we don't talk about it, don't you think? If it concerns the rest of us, I'm sure the Princess will make an announcement at the Plaza.”

“So the EBSS can just blow up our homes?” He scoffed loudly, gurgling then spitting. “You don't think that's wrong? I swear, if we got to make decisions again, like back in Hurricane's time...”

“No,” I said, pushing back his forehead. “Nope, not listening.” With that, I turned around. Ponies who said such things had a habit of disappearing. Though for Storming here, I felt it would've been good riddance.

“All's I'm saying is—”

Hoofsteps. A face I didn't recognise had entered the hall and made his way between the rows of desks. His horn glowed in greenish light, and a stack of books floated right beside him, following the bobbing of his head. And that must be our new professor. The previous one suddenly had to leave because of 'family reasons'. Not my business what that entailed.

I mentally thanked this one for shutting Storming up.

As he reached the front desk, the light of the professor's horn winked out, dropping the stack of books down. He took off his monocle and briefly brushed it against his vest before putting it back on. Straightening his back, he stood at attention, overlooking us with a high chin and lips sealed stiff.

I was the first to pick up on the gesture. Gently pushing my chair out – making sure not to make much noise – I got up from my seat and stood at attention as well. With my chin raised, I came level with the professor despite him standing on a raised dais. He was a small, ageing stallion, and me, well, I'd always been a little big.

Although I didn't turn to check, I heard the squeaking of chairs as more and more students got the hint, standing up one by one. When the sounds stopped, I saw the corners of the professor's lips curl to a smile.

After a moment spent scanning the class, he breathed out. Then he relaxed his posture and waved a hoof downwards. “You may sit down.”

In another bout of chair squeaks and added whispers, we took our seats again.

He turned to me. “What is the name of the fine young lady?”

I perked up as I clopped my hooves together. “New Page, sir.”

Storming poked my wing again and snickered. “Nerd.”

The professor sent him a glance, his faint smile growing subtly. “I take it the lady has a reputation.”

A wave of guilty, quiet giggles washed over the group. I rolled my eyes, but I couldn't help a smile myself.

The professor cleared his throat and let his smile fade away. “I suppose this greeting has fallen out of style, hasn't it? I consider myself a rather old-fashioned stallion. I like to begin lectures this way. Humour an old fool.”

He stepped behind his desk and took the top book off the stack to flick it open. “Can anypony guess when this style of formal greeting began becoming less popular?”

The class answered with hushed murmurs, nopony speaking up. Rarely did they teach etiquette during history lessons.

I knew that my tutor back home had me stand at attention before we'd begin, and he was also quite an old pony, and Horsmouth was an ancient town anyway. Barely any children there – just old ponies.

But in the Canterlot University, I really didn't know about any customs, and—

“The Longest Night?” asked Storming. By the tone, it was more of a guess than anything.

The whispers stopped, and silence befell the hall.

“Yes,” the professor replied. His voice was matter-of-fact, showing no hint of aversion at the mention of that terrible event. “In many ways, society before the Longest Night was much more, shall we say, 'rigid' than it is today. I suppose it was that night which made us appreciate each other a little more. Happy to be alive and to have each other, as it were.”

He stopped for a moment. “What's with the faces?” His brows furrowed as his eyes scanned us. “Oh. That's right. You're that generation. It's taboo, isn't it? You're the kids born right around that time. You don't remember.”

I saw the hint of a subdued smile on his lips again, just for a moment before it dissolved.

“Well,” he said, “if you happened to have been born – or conceived really – shortly before the Longest Night and you're still around, congratulations. You're lucky. Nightmare Moon didn't like children very much.” He leaned forward, lowering his voice. “Afraid of the dark.”

He stood quiet for a moment. We just stared. I couldn't guess what he was going for with this. When he spoke again, his voice sounded deeper, and it boomed throughout the hall.

“Forgive me, I have not introduced myself. I am Golden Monocle, and as you've most likely guessed, I will be the one to teach you about the Longest Night. But first you have to learn to talk about it.” He inhaled deeply, and his voice softened again. “How do you want to learn about history if you're afraid of it?” Pursing his lips, he shook his head.

He dropped into his chair, which creaked as he leaned back. With his hooves on his belly, he went on. “I like to make my first lecture very... talky. You might call it wasted time, but I like gauging just how much you kids actually care. When was the Longest Night?”

I put up a hoof. Golden Monocle nodded.

“On the night before the longest day of the year, which would later become the Summer Sun Celebration. Which means the twentieth anniversary is coming up.”

The professor looked me over, raising a brow. “How long was the Longest Night?”

“Two weeks, three days, and a little.” I rubbed the side of my head. “Five hours?”

A suppressed groan resounded behind me. I paid Storming no mind, and neither did the professor.

He shrugged. “Well, if you say it was five hours, it was five hours. I certainly wasn't counting.” He sighed. “Maybe we're rushing ahead of ourselves there. Let's back up. A little more personal, less academic. You don't have to answer this one. You usually don't. But I always ask.”

He leaned forward, putting his hooves onto the desk and taking a moment to look each of us in the eye. “Has any of you lost anypony in the Longest Night?”

When our eyes met, I cast my gaze down. Didn't even mean to do that.

He was right, though: I didn't want to answer it. Lost my Papa. Mama would sing odes about him, though I'd never known him. He was a Royal Guard who died bravely defending Mama and me from a pair of berserk Night Guards. That's why Mama moved all the way out to Horsmouth to raise me, she said, because she couldn't bear to live near the Old City any more. It was a miracle I even 'happened' before, well...

“As I thought,” Golden Monocle said. “I'm good at recognising the faces. Don't worry, your secrets are safe with me.” He rubbed his chin. “Well then, tell me about the Tyranny Clause.”

Oh, I knew that one – and I much preferred fishing facts and trivia from my memory over thinking about Papa.

“Normally,” I said, “a majority vote from the Senate had the power to veto the decisions of Princess Luna and Princess Celestia. The Tyranny Clause could be evoked in case of an unforeseen catastrophe, such as war or supernatural disaster, to give the two sisters supreme executive power. This would be the Tyranny of the Two Sisters, and lasted one year.”

I couldn't keep a straight face. No matter how much I protested, my lips curled to a smile. “Princess Celestia evoked the clause during the Longest Night and has subsequently elected to extend its duration every year. Today, the Senate fills an advisory role... and the Princess listens, of course.”

The professor raised a brow. “What were the Night Guards?”

“Princess Luna's personal guard, later banished by the Elements of Harmony. Once ordinary ponies, they were bound to her through magic as the ultimate sign of loyalty or penance, giving them a bat-like appearance.”

“And?” he asked.

I needed a second. “This has also made them infertile.”

He nodded, narrowing his eyes. “Not exactly what I was looking for.”

“Um...” I swallowed. “Well, there were a couple hundred of them at any given time, spread throughout the Old City and related settlements. During the Princess Luna-Princess Celestia feud, that is the rise of Nightmare Moon, that is the Longest Night, they turned on Celestia and her Royal Guard. They—”

The professor stomped a hoof on the desk, the bang resounding across the hall. “Monsters,” he said. “You will never find a whore more fickle than history. She will spread her legs to anypony powerful enough. But if there is one thing that you can always be absolutely certain of, it's that the Night Guards were monsters.”

He looked down and licked his lips, shaking his head quickly. With a deep breath, he got up from his chair and faced us. He didn't seem so tiny any more.

“Even before the Longest Night, many ponies were against the Night Guard 'system', if you were to call it that. Placing public safety in the hooves of vandals and wanna-be soldiers...” He scoffed. “They used alicorn magic to bypass years of mental and physical training. Needless to say, Princess Luna was relentlessly attacked for running the institution. And when the inevitable happened, it was too late.”

Behind the professor's eyes, I saw a fire burn. To me, the Longest Night had always been just like any other page in the book: history, nothing more. Consciously, I'd known it all along, but this was when it dawned on me: Professor Golden Monocle was somepony who had seen the atrocities that my Mama refused to talk about.

And suddenly, I felt ashamed for treating the event so nonchalantly. I couldn't look him in the eye.

“I want to drill this into your heads as early as possible,” he went on, shaking his hoof in the air. “Do not feel sorry for the Night Guards. Monsters, all of them. Let nopony tell you otherwise.” He shrugged, a hint of a smile again appearing on his lips yet again. “Not that anypony would.”

Even after the professor finally calmed down and continued the lecture, I couldn't help but wonder what he might have seen.

It was late afternoon by the time my last class was done. Fishing my key from my bag, I slid it into the lock – only to have the apartment door creak open at the first push. My heart skipped a beat.

I looked back, at the long sloped path that snaked along the mountainside from the streets below. Nopony nearby. Turning back to the door, I took a deep breath and pushed in slowly, trying not to make a sound. The anteroom was empty.

“Page?” called a familiar voice. I exhaled in relief.

I closed the door with a hind hoof. “Flora, where are you?” In response, I heard the sounds of water splashing. Turning into my room, I threw my bag onto the bed and looked to where the sound came from. “What are you doing in my bathroom?”

More splashing. “Indoor plumbing, Page. Indoor plumbing.”

As I opened the bathroom door, a gust of hot air and steam blasted me. Flora Dawn lay submerged in the tub with only her eyes and muzzle above the water. A dirty cloak lay crumpled in the laundry basket.

She quickly looked me over before closing her eyes. “You've got warm water flowing from the wall. Remember how back in Horsmouth we had to fill the tub from the well halfway down the mountain? And even then it was cold.” She leaned back, and with a comfortable smile sunk her head under the surface so that only her ears and horn poked out. Then she started blowing bubbles.

“Well, maybe if you pursued an education like I did instead of running away for ten years, maybe Celestia would pay for your luxurious Canterlot home.”

She sat up with a jerk, splashing warm water all over me. She stretched her hooves and shook her light-red mane dry. Her coat was even lighter: almost entirely white with just the faintest shade of pink. Back when we were kids, we used to joke that she was an albino.

“So,” she began as she draped her wet legs over the side of the tub, “did you do the thing?”

“No, I go first. Don't you ever take that thing off?” I pointed at the amulet around her neck. “I mean, I know I have my quirks, but really?”

Flora curled her neck to looked down at her amulet. It was shaped like a downward-pointing triangle that curved slightly to follow the lines of her neck; a dark, metallic plate polished to a brilliant shine, with an embedded, deep red gemstone adorning the centre.

“It was a gift from somepony I admire. Of course I don't. Now, about the books...”

“No, let me go second too. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that explosion last night, would you?”

Flora raised a brow above a sly grin. “Even if I did, you wouldn't want me to tell you.”

I conceded defeat with a sigh. “Alright. Yes, I got the books. Well, some of them. Damn well got caught too, I actually had to use the—”

“Which ones?” Flora leapt from the tub and shoved me aside as she burst into my room.

“Hey, at least dry yourself up, will you?” I got a towel and, following her into the room, threw it on her shoulders. “Under the bed.”

Quick as she was to climb under the bed, I grabbed her tail and pulled her out.

“Don't get them wet, you.” I pulled the towel over her head and eyes. “Towel. Use it.”

While she dried her mane, I reached under the bed and pulled my worn saddlebag out. I undid its latch to spill the contents onto the bed.

“So, as you can see,” I explained as I sorted through the contents, “most of these are the blanks. I only got two out, this and this here. Oh, here's the door gem. Lost the heat one.”

Flora wrapped the towel around her neck like a scarf. “Wait, they didn't see you, did they?”

“I wouldn't be here if they did, would I?”

She clapped a hoof on my shoulder. “And that's why you're the best.” She reached for the stolen books. “So which ones are these?”

“The soul link one, and the memoirs.” As Flora looked them over, I had to resist the urge to take them out of her hooves. “So, when am I getting these?”

She cracked open Soul Link, and responded without looking up. “Oh, well, that all depends. These are very, very interesting pieces.”

I pursed my lips. “Well, what about payment for last time? Are you done with those yet?”

“Patience, my dear.” The tip of her horn sparkled and a red tuft of magic turned the page. She patted my head with her gaze still in the book. “I should have something for you by next week.”

“I think this is the right time to mention that I'm not going back.”

Her magic winked out and the book fell; she turned to me with an incredulous expression.

“Why not?”

“Because I came this close to getting caught, hello?” Sitting back, I crossed my hooves. “I know I do crazy things, but no more. I think I've finally had enough excitement, and I don't want those EBSS monsters knocking on my door.”

Flora looked away for a moment. Her expression changed from jovial to serious: not something I saw often. “Very well,” she said. “That's reasonable. Tell you what.”

She threw Soul Link onto the bed, then went to pick up Memoirs, only to theatrically give it over to me.

“You keep this one for the time being. You've definitely earned it.”

Raising a brow, I took the book. Better do it, I figured, before she changed her mind.

“As for not going back to the Archives, I understand that.” She rubbed her chin. “If you used the heat gem, that means you made quite the scene. Has to be swarming with guards. Not a safe place, no.” She leaned a bit closer, a sly smile spreading across her face. “I'm sure we can come up with something... different.”

“And mutually beneficial,” I added.

“Of course,” she replied. “Make no mistake, you are very important to us. And we take care of those we hold important.”

“That ominous 'we' again, Flora?”

“Yes, well...” Flora giggled. “Not knowing is, trust me, for your own benefit.”

The Lives of Old Dogs, part 1

Princess Celestia

Once upon a time, before the EBSS and before the Longest Night, there lived a young pegasus. His name doesn't matter. This is his story: a tale lost in the sunset of bygone ages, one I've pieced together from hushed deathbed confessions and the centuries-old diaries of ponies who have long since passed. It might not be how it happened. This is how I like to imagine it.

Few were those who knew this stallion and fewer still who wanted to remember him. He had given up on his family, just as his family had given up on him; he became a delinquent, a good-for-nothing, a ne'er-do-well. The only things the stallion cared for were the thrill of a fight and another night spent in good spirits, with good spirits.

He never thought his life might change. He never thought much about anything. Forget yesterday, live for today, and curse tomorrow – that was his mantra, the creed of his life.

For a little over a month now, the stallion had lived on the outskirts of the Old City: the courtyard of the castle where my sister and I resided. He spent his days in the forest, sleeping or scrounging for whatever might get him through his lonely hours. Only when the Sun set did he begin to live.

He made friends – tenuous allies, really – with ponies who were like him: ponies who had turned their backs on Equestria, for Equestria had turned her back on them. Together, the ragtag bunch of hooligans trawled for the unwary of the Old City, preying in the shadows of dark alleys for anypony who entered their net.

Rich or poor, good or evil, to them it made no difference; all that mattered were the precious bits in their pouch or the loaf of bread and bottle of wine in their basket.

Sometimes, they'd find a big fish. Nobles were often too arrogant – or plain foolish – to avoid a shortcut through the back streets of the city. There they would find their carriage's path blocked, their servants' noses broken, and their cabin plundered. On a better occasion, the stallion and his friends drank for a week from the catch.

Other times, they were not so lucky. News of the group quickly spread, and Luna's Night Guards patrolled the night streets vigilantly, their enchanted eyes scanning the darkness as though it were bathed in the light of day. The stallion saw many of his friends captured, but he was better than them. He always got away. He would never be caged.

His hooves shuddered. Not because of the chilling winter wind, but in excitement and anticipation of the night ahead. Tonight would be his last in the Old City. When the Moon reached its apex along the sky, he met with two others.

At the edge of the city, just by the great gates, an old mare made business out of her home by crafting and selling porcelains. She had refined her skills over a lifetime, and her wares became renowned throughout the land. Her shop had seen purchases from the richest of families over the decades. The stallion and his friends planned to break into the shop and make off with as many pieces as they could fit in their bags.

What the stallion couldn't carry, he would smash. Not because he wanted to; the stallion could not remember the last time he had wanted anything. He would do it for no other reason than that he could.

Half an hour past midnight, the stallion and his friends had filled their bags with the finest ceramics they scoured. When the old mare woke to the sound of shattering vases, the stallion laughed in her face. A single swing at her legs broke a knee.

The only thing the stallion respected, after all, was strength. The world trampled all those who were not strong enough. As he locked eyes with the terrified old mare, he imagined himself a force of nature, an earthquake, a hurricane: his actions born not of evil but the will of the destiny that guided all ponies.

It was easier that way.

A Night Guard called Silhouette would later tell my sister that he had a hunch. The notorious group had been far too quiet in past days, and he knew their kind, having been like them himself. He was the first to arrive, having heard a muffled scream from the shop.

He kicked in the door, and the group froze. Silhouette looked them over. “You are coming with me.”

Our stallion sized him up. Silhouette's slit pupils stared back, unblinking, unafraid. His leathery bat wings spread wide. In the Night Guard's darkly shining chestplate, the stallion caught a glimpse of his own frightened reflection.

“Get the freak!” he bellowed, lunging at him.

Silhouette possessed a piece of Luna's soul: a gift of initiation given to all Night Guards by my sister. It was her magic that pushed their minds and bodies beyond the capabilities of other ponies. An army of one, each of them.

Silhouette would easily overpower all three assailants, and as his hoof pressed down on the stallion's throat, the defeated pony could not help but look up at the Night Guard in awe. When Silhouette took him away, he asked how he might become like him.

Years would pass until the two would meet again, but the stallion would never forget the face of Silhouette.

Princess Luna has spent many a night watching over the dreams of our little ponies. I admired her; she could always find the good in the most wicked of hearts. When she peered into the stallion's mind, she found his soul twisted but unbroken. She saw in him not a heinous criminal to be locked away, but an abandoned child crying for help.

To her, there was no such thing as a bad pony. Though bad deeds might never be undone, he could yet do good – and in turn help us all far more than spending his life in a cell ever would. That was Luna's philosophy.

To join the Night Guard, a pony would have to give up their body, their name, and indeed, their life. By linking their souls with that of Princess Luna, they pledged to serve to the very end. For Luna, tearing away a part of her own soul to weave it between the threads of another soul had never been easy, but she never let that stop her. “It is a pain worth bearing,” she would tell me.

For the stallion, making the sacrifice was simple, for he had never had a life to begin with.

Although I did not know who he was back then, that fateful night was when this story – a story that few would ever know, yet would resonate across Equestria – had started in earnest.

Swift Sweep

The EBSS Headquarters and our temporary detainment cells lay within Canterlot Mountain, hidden deeper even than the glowing crystal mines. Well, 'hidden' might be a strong word. Everypony knew it was there; what better way for a mother to scare her misbehaving children into submission by threatening them with being taken away to the mountain's cavernous maws?

Heavy Yoke hailed from a family of humble cherry farmers down to the south-east; honest work, and a noble occupation in its own right. Why he and his sister chose to trade harvesting fruit for harvesting organs remained a mystery for the time being. With the ever competent Royal Guard failing to track down their elusive Priestess Nichts, and the young Red Petal being in no condition to talk, Heavy Yoke was our only way to find her.

A stallion with a stronger spine would have taken advantage of that fact. Luckily for us, Yoke here seemed to possess a simple soul with all of his family's inherent servility. He was tough, but lacked any wit. I knew we could crack him; we'd only have to lean on him.

The problem was Celestia leaning on us. She was most disappointed with our performance: we let Nichts slip away, another of our marks nearly died, and the third still wasn't talking. We all knew what it meant when Celestia was disappointed.

Old dogs never retired. We had all pledged our undying loyalty to the Crowns when we enlisted in the Night Guard long ago. Although Princess Luna was no longer here to guide us, that did not relieve us of our oaths. That is to say, we would continue our work in the EBSS until the day we died.

Be a good employee and be rewarded with Celestia's most important tasks – or become a faceless failure, living out our lives in an underground office filling out forms without once seeing the light of day. Stars knew that Celestia's brave new Equestria needed bureaucrats.

Celestia started out disappointed. Now she grew impatient. If we didn't give her results soon, we would all be replaced by her new recruits. To be reassigned was the ultimate insult one could suffer in the EBSS: a testament to your incompetence.

Project Heartbreak would remain ours. I knew just how to crack Heavy Yoke.

I waited in the magically-lit hallway before the interrogation room for River Flow to finish his shift in questioning him. Though I did not usually pay attention to the Royal Guards who helped us run the EBSS HQ, I took note of the one guarding the door; I did not recognise him.

“You're the new guy, I take it.”

He saluted. “Yes, sir.”

I did not like new faces – not in general, much less in HQ. This particular guard certainly did not wow me, either. He was short and looked as fragile as a twig, and beneath the golden-plated armour and prideful expression I saw no substance. Truly the organisation has fallen a long way if they accepted such sorry excuses for stallions.

“Yes, I've been told to expect a replacement,” I said. “Whatever happened to Halberd?”

“I understand he had an accident, sir.”

“Well, let's hope he can return to work soon.”

He did not answer that. How smart. I might just start to like you yet.

Although I never cared to ask, I'd always wondered whether Celestia went out of her way to colour-code her Royal Guard recruits, or if they had to ritually dye their coats white before joining the service.

The heavy steel door of the interrogation room cranked open, its metallic scrapes echoing across the windowless halls. As it closed behind River Flow, he put a hoof behind his neck and circled his head. The old, rugged scar on his throat refused to stretch with the rest of his skin, creasing and pulling it all around itself.

He gave an exhausted sigh, though to the uninitiated ear it might have sounded like the growl of a wolfdog. “How long have I been in there?”

“About three hours.”

Turning his head down, he rubbed his throat and gurgled phlegm before swallowing hard. “That makes it forty-four for him.” He stretched out a leg, cranking his shoulder. Then he shot me a piercing glare. “I don't think what you're planning is going to work. You're going to completely destroy him, we'll get reassigned, and I'll be blaming you.”

Always the critic, River. I didn't think he liked any of us, but he held a special spot of hatred for me in his heart. It had been me who found him with his own spear lodged inside his throat, after all. I'd grown used to his jabs, none too subtle as they were.

“Grotto put me in charge of the interrogation process.” I did my best to maintain a straight face and a professional tone; no need to sink to his level of petty insults. “I'll ask for your opinion when I need it.” And whoops, a slip of the tongue.

His face was as hard as stone: his lips stiff as ever and chin always raised just an inch higher than yours. He looked me over with disdainful eyes before answering. “Impress me, Swift. Or rather – impress Celestia.”

“Mind stepping aside, then? You're blocking the door.”

I could've sworn I saw him smirk for just a moment before standing out of the way. “I take it you're about to drop the bomb. I'll be listening.” With that, he turned around and entered the observation room directly next to the interrogation room.

With a deep breath, I pushed the steel door open, again sending a wave of reverberations down the hallway. Inside, Royal Guards on each side of the door saluted my entry.

Heavy Yoke slouched in his chair with his back to the door, eyes closed, head drooping to one side and jaw hung open. As he began drawing in a deep, slow breaths, I slammed my hoof on the desk in front of him, making him jump.

He looked at me with eyes red from a day spent crying, barely able to keep his slack eyelids above his pupils. “Please, let me sleep,” he said, his tongue waggling weakly and slurring every word. The hairs on his muzzle had clotted together from tears, and I could see the irritated skin of the bags under his eyes, red from all the rubbing.

I took my seat in front of him and angled the desk's magical light into his face. Mentally, I noted the little blue gemstone embedded into the centre of the desk: a piece of enchanted sapphire that transmitted every noise within the room to the scribes – and River Flow – on the other side of the wall.

“Look at me, Number Twenty-One,” I said. “What do you know about Priestess Nichts?”

He squinted through the light and gave a choked gasp as though trying to sob, but his throat was too dry. “Please, I told you, I don't know anything.” He rubbed his eyes. “Please, just an hour, half an hour...”

“Tell us again.”

He choked on another breath, then licked his lips before continuing. “Priestess Nichts... I don't know. We've only ever seen her once.” He sniffed. “We've only ever seen her once, we've only ever seen her once.”

Yoke had been repeating that – verbatim – ever since we brought him in. A phrase put into his mouth, no doubt; something to fall back on when pressured. By the looks of it, he'd sooner go mad than tell us anything here. We'd driven him to the edge of his sanity for a reason, of course, as my plan hinged on him being worn and susceptible.

Having not spoken for a moment, Yoke's head was already drooping to the side, eyelids slowly descending.

“I assume you're concerned about Number Twenty. That is, your sister.”

His eyes snapped open, a piece of eye crust peeling off with a crunch. He quickly lurched forward and clambered onto the desk. The guards behind him grabbed their spears, but I stopped them by raising a hoof.

Yoke dug the tips of his hooves into the desk, his shoulders sticking out as they desperately tried to keep his head up. “Y-you know about Red? How's Red?”

I slowly shook my head, closing my eyes for effect. “Red Petal is not well, I'm afraid.” Opening my eyes, I saw Yoke sprawled out on the desk, eyes speaking of pure desperation and mouth gasping for air.

“I need to see her,” he blurted.

Hook, line, and sinker. I'd interrogated farmers before; they were all, always, about family. I had to keep myself from smiling. “That will not be possible.”

He pushed himself up, a newfound flame flaring up in his eyes. For the first time in a long while, he looked like he had a reason to fight. “I'm not saying anything until you let me see her.”

“Is that so?” I leaned back, crossing my hooves and sending a condescending glare. “But you have nothing to say, as we've already established. You don't know anything. Why should we let you see Number Twenty?”

His façade of strength collapsed along with his body. He caught himself with a hoof before his head hit the desk and spoke through trembling lips. “Please. I need to know she's okay. She didn't do anything, it was all me, I swear upon all the stars in the sky, please...”

Now, I'm not saying earth ponies were all the same, but from experience I've found they had incredibly strong familial connections. A quick background check quickly told us that these two had broken from their family years ago. That was to say, they only had each other.

I leaned back, now letting an easy smile show. “I can see you love your sister very much.”

“Yes! Please, just for a minute. It's not her fault.”

“Very well.” I pushed my chair out and stood up, waving to the guards. “We're going to the infirmary.”

From Heavy Yoke's expression I thought he might have jumped for joy, had he had any strength left. He almost looked grateful. Even a beaten dog will lick your hoof if you cover it in fat.

The guards helped lift him from his chair. His legs were weak and wobbly; the guards had to support him to make sure he didn't fall over.

As we left the room, a pair of scribes rushed from theirs. Their horns glowed, auras carrying inkwells and papers as quills scribbled mid-air. River Flow was the last to step outside. I would have loved to gloat at being right, but I could not rightfully do so until Heavy Yoke really talked. I couldn't help but think that River Flow would've found some perverse consolation in our mutual failure.

We blindfolded him – as was protocol – and the assembled team escorted Heavy Yoke down the dim hallways amidst much pushing and shoving. Three turns and a flight of stairs above the temporary holding cells lay the infirmary, and inside, our esteemed guest's burnt younger sister.

Another pair of guards greeted us by the door, and a nurse – surprisingly stockily built for her occupation – stood before Red Petal's bed. Although Yoke had been nothing but a chore to get here – his lack of sleep making him very clumsy – when we took off the blindfold he quickly sprung to rush for his sister. The nurse promptly shoved him back.

“Don't touch her,” I warned.

Yoke reared, trying to get a look of Red Petal over the nurse's shoulder. I let him struggle and watched with shameful pleasure as horror dawned in his expression. This was his first time seeing his sister since they separated at the mansion – before Nichts broke free of the inhibitor. Good thing Silhouette wasn't there to watch me; he'd surely have hoofed me across the back of my head.

Red Petal had avoided death by a hair; it was a miracle in itself that our doctors managed to stabilise her at all. Much of her skin had been burnt to a crispy texture, with only the odd patch of charred hair littering it here and there. She'd suffered severe internal injuries and had bled profusely for a long time, and although I wasn't privy to all the details, I'd been told that they had to remove splintered bones from punctured organs.

For the time being, however, she was alive – and stable. Indeed, with the right drugs and a righteous amount of magic, we could keep her among us for as long as we wished. Pain and delirium prevented her from moving or communicating in any way, though as far as we could tell, her mind was still there. A perfectly healthy – if scarred – soul trapped in the body of a vegetable, and we had the key to the lock.

The grim fact of the matter was that Red Petal proved much more useful to us as she was. I considered it a fitting punishment for the things she'd done.

Her bloodshot eyes moved lazily about; it took her a while before she noticed her brother. When she finally did, her eyes went wide and her lips contorted, her throat making a raspy, incoherent gurgle barely louder than a dying whisper.

“Red!” Yoke moved to grab her hoof, but the nurse stopped him. He never took his eyes off his sister. “What did they do to you?”

I put a hoof on Yoke's shoulder, and he froze to the touch. After a moment, he turned to me.

“We did not harm your sister. Celestia would never condone harm to her subjects. This...” I waved a hoof towards Red. “This is the doing of Priestess Nichts.”

Yoke pushed my hoof off, gaping and shrinking away. “No. She'd never...”

He turned to Red, who in turn moved her head up and down the slightest bit, dragging loose skin over her pillow: her equivalent to a nod.

Yoke's face scrunched up with pain. “We were doing good. For the greater good. This was supposed to be better.” He swallowed and turned to me. “The Children, we're here to mend the world. We're trying to help you, don't you understand?”

“Is torturing ponies mending the world?” I nodded towards Red. “Is this?”

He dropped to his haunches, fixing his gaze on the floor. “You just don't understand.”

I put my hoof on his shoulder again. “Celestia wants nothing but the best for all her little ponies. Unfortunately, your little sister might not survive.” As Yoke turned to me, I saw Red's eye spin my way, too. “Not unless she receives urgent medical help – help that Celestia might be reluctant to offer somepony she can't trust.”

Yoke kept looking into my eyes, but said nothing. In his gaze, however, I saw the realisation gather.

“We all want to help you,” I said, pulling my hoof back. “We want you back in your family. Think about them. Do you think they'll want you back like this? Nopony welcomes an enemy of Equestria. You have a choice here. It's up to you to make the right one.”

I waved to the nurse, and she stepped aside. Yoke jumped up and took his sister's hoof into his.

“Do you want to be Number Twenty-One, or Heavy Yoke?” I asked. “Will you help Celestia, or will you lose Red Petal?”

His breathing grew faster, and I saw him clench his teeth under tightly shut lips.

“The Children of the Night betrayed you. Don't play a hero to them. Be one for her.”

Yoke burst with sobs, lowering his head and putting Red's hoof to his forehead.

“Nie,” he whispered.

The scribes quickly perked up, quills at the ready. River Flow, previously leaning against a wall, now straightened himself.

“Louder now,” I said.

“Prophet Nie,” Yoke blurted. “Nichts said Prophet Nie would soon come to Canterlot to lead us to the Mother. And... and Nichts loves him. If Nie is coming, Nichts will be at his side. She always is.”

Prophet Nie! Indeed, we'd heard the name; this wasn't the first time some deranged lunatic gibbered something about this prophet who bound all of the cult together. Nie appeared to be the mastermind behind the entire Children of the Night phenomenon – the priests and priestesses being his most trusted servants. But Nie was a ghost. We'd always hoped to one day get our hooves on him, though until now we focused on cutting the cult apart slice by slice.

If Nie really was coming to the city, however, that changed everything.

Yoke whipped around and grabbed me by the chest. “But I don't know when he's coming,” he cried, “or how, or anything, I swear, I don't know! I really don't know!”

Spent, he collapsed at my hooves into a pile of tears and incoherent sobs. I nodded for the guards.

“Take him away.”

A pair of guards picked Yoke up and dragged him out of the room. I turned to the others. “Find me Twilit Grotto. He will want to know all the details. Tell him I'll meet with him in a minute.”

They left too, passing by a speechless River Flow. I raised my brows at him.

That made him frown. “Proud of yourself, aren't you?”

“Why shouldn't I be?”

He nodded towards Red Petal. “She is suffering, and you're keeping her that way.”

I glanced towards the broken mare. She was eyeing us, too. “This is nothing compared to what her victims went through.”

River scoffed. “We're supposed to be better than them.”

“No,” I replied, “we're not. We're here to stop them.”

“What if the Princess knew what goes on down here?”

“Everypony knows.” And that's the beauty of it. “You see, that is precisely why we'll never have to explain this to Celestia: she knows, so she doesn't ask.”

He stayed silent for a moment. After a deep breath, he nodded slowly, not in approval but in understanding. “She doesn't ask, so she doesn't know.”

“Are you ready?” Twilit Grotto asked.

I swept my mane back, straightening my posture. My chest pounded, and I could feel my legs shake; I did my best not to show it. “Am I ever?”

On the morning after our breakthrough with Heavy Yoke, Grotto and I had to present our results to the Princess herself. The road had not been without its bumps, and I'd lie if I said we did exceptionally well, but all was not lost. We did have two out of three marks in custody, after all, both properly pacified and compliant. And now we had something to go on, not just to find Priestess Nichts, but the mysterious Prophet Nie as well.

With a deep breath, Grotto nodded to the guards by the throne room's doors. Although they weren't allowed to answer, I saw them nod back with encouragement in their eyes. I appreciated that; it was a rare show of compassion. Most ponies did not like the EBSS, although none would have said it out loud.

Their horns lit up, and their joint aura crept up the great jewel-studded gates, swinging them open. Grotto stepped forward first. I followed him quickly.

The throne room was not at all as I'd expected. Thick curtains draped over the great stained glass windows, filtering the morning light and painting the room a dark shade of red. The twin thrones – one for each princess – stood vacant at the other end. Under the sole window whose curtain was still open, Princess Celestia sat by a small table set with a kettle of tea and a number of accompanying cups.

As the doors closed, Celestia didn't turn to greet us. Her gaze was set somewhere on the city outside, the gentle light of the Sun shimmering on her bright coat and casting a kaleidoscope of colours on the floor as it shone through her flowing mane. Terrified as I was to see her, I had to admire the splendour of the throne room: a stark contrast to the underground quarters and cramped spaces of HQ where the light of the Sun never reached.

Celestia herself moved with grace and elegance as every single motion seemed to bring with itself the pleasant serenity of a summer afternoon. To a simpler pony, the mere sight of the Princess of the Sun and Moon might have been enough to inspire lifelong awe. Her picturesque exterior belied the determined, ruthless ruler that hid underneath. Me, I've always felt that Celestia looked the most terrifying at her most peaceful.

I found my steps becoming shorter the closer we came; Grotto had gone ahead of me. I shook myself and broke my imaginary shackles, hurrying my steps to catch up with him. When we reached Celestia, she didn't turn. We waited a moment – still nothing – then Grotto cleared his throat.

Celestia turned to us and gave a few quick blinks as though recovering from a daydream. A warm smile spread across her lips. “I apologise. Please, have a seat.” She gestured towards the two chairs on the opposite end of her table. A warm aura tugged at their backrests, pulling them out for us.

“Thank you, Princess,” Grotto said as we sat down. “As you know, we are here to—”

“It is a beautiful day today, would you not say so?” Celestia turned to the window again. There were no clouds in the sky, letting the Sun shine unobscured onto the white spires of Canterlot.

Grotto and I exchanged a look. If I hadn't known better, I'd have thought the old mare had finally cracked.

“Yes,” I said, “most certainly.”

She turned back to us, still with a smile. “I must apologise again. Without my sister and with all this darkness in the world, sometimes I fear I forget about the little things. Like a bright day of sunshine.” She cleared her throat and her smile faded, although it did not disappear entirely. “I understand you have made progress in Project Heartbreak.”

“Indeed,” Grotto replied. “As you are aware, we have successfully captured two lunatics in an earlier raid. Unfortunately, their purported overseer Priestess Nichts fled the scene through means we do not yet understand.”

A cup floated to Celestia's lips, and she took a sip under a raised brow.

“After a long interrogation,” Grotto went on, “during which, might I add, no physical harm came to the subject designated Number Twenty-One, he finally decided to talk. He revealed information pertaining to the leadership of the cult, as well as their possible goals. Our next objective is to evaluate the veracity of his claims.”

“I see,” Celestia said. “Please, go on.”

Grotto looked to me, and I gulped none too subtly. “I was the one to coerce the mentioned information from Number Twenty-One,” I said. I stopped for a moment to gather myself – my voice wavered far too much for my liking. “He talked about one Prophet Nie, who is the ostensible leader of the cult. According to him, the Prophet and Priestess are working together, and Nie is coming to Canterlot sometime in the near future. Wherever Nichts fled, she is bound to return for the occasion. Therefore I propose that we further tighten surveillance over incoming and outgoing traffic to Canterlot, as well as—”

Celestia raised a hoof. “May I ask your name?”

“I...” The question had come so suddenly, my tongue tripped over itself. “M-my name is Swift Sweep.” Celestia stared at me; I had to shoot Grotto a glance, who nodded back. “Once Crescent Strike,” I added.

Celestia's expression was that of a proud mother. “Tell me then, Swift Sweep, how long have you been serving the Crowns?”

“Oh, well...” I looked to the side, quickly counting in my head. “It's been twenty-four years now. The first four as a Night Guard, the rest as the first generation of the EBSS.”

She looked to Grotto. “You have had a similar career as well, have you not?”

He straightened himself, throwing up a hoof to salute. “Twilit Grotto, once Dusken Caverns, at Your Highness' service.”

Celestia nodded. “Tell me then, how did this Priestess Nichts elude you?”

I glanced at Grotto, and he glanced back, but he didn't say a word. I turned back to Celestia. Her expression held no judgement, yet looking into her eyes chilled me to the core. “M-my partner Lullaby, once Nightsong, had Nichts pinned with her wingblades.”

“It's a standard restrainment procedure,” Grotto interjected. “It has served us well in the past.”

“Yes, quite right,” I said. “I put a spell inhibitor onto Nichts' horn, again as is standard procedure. I had, of course, checked the inhibitor prior to the raid and found it in working condition. Yet Nichts somehow managed to power through it, releasing tremendous magic in the form of an explosion that Your Highness no doubt remembers. I should think you've seen our full report.”

Celestia looked down at her empty teacup. “And then she ran away.” Her horn lighting up, the kettle filled the cup. A tuft of magic lifted it to her mouth, and she savoured the smell before taking a sip. “I admire you. I might never learn what it is like to age, but I do know that time is not kind to my little ponies. This Nichts was one young, spry mare, is that not right?”

“My armour was damaged in the blast.” I hung my head. “I came close, but I could not catch her.”

“Yet you push on,” Celestia continued, sipping again. “You work tirelessly for Equestria's future, day after day. I am not overstating myself when I say you have not only my admiration, but indeed, my gratitude.” She took another sip, emptying her cup. “Oh, how rude of me. Please, have some tea if you like.”

Grotto took the initiative, reaching for the kettle, pouring – and spilling a drop onto the rich tablecloth. He gave the kettle over, for fear of doing it again.

“That is why your reassignment breaks my heart.”

I froze.

“As Princess of Equestria and head of our Bureau for State Security, I have decided to reassign you two, as well as Lullaby, to another project. By placing Project Heartbreak in younger hooves, I aim to ensure such a simple blunder does not occur again. I have no doubt you understand my decision. That is, of course, if you both agree.”

Her horn glowed again, and her empty teacup floated over to me. That's when I realised the kettle was still in my hooves.

“Please, would you be so kind?”

Grotto and I once again exchanged a look. And in that shared moment, we understood. Celestia was not giving us a choice. She liked pretence, but she never gave you a choice. That little cup, floating in shimmering light in front of me, held our futures. If we said 'no' here, slaving in the mines for the rest of our lives would've been among the more merciful fates Celestia would pick for us. One does not say no to the rising Sun and watchful Moon of Equestria, after all.

Grotto nodded, then turned to Celestia. “We agree wholeheartedly.”

Celestia smiled at him, then looked to me, lifting the cup slightly. I poured from the kettle and did it with a smile on my lips.

The Lives of Other Ponies, part 2

Princess Celestia

Princess Luna bent the powers of the Element of Magic to astounding ends.

She could not only peer into the very souls of other ponies, but she could also read – even alter – their minds and memories as though they were open books and she had the quill. She could turn and fold the proverbial pages of their minds, undo them at the seams to stitch them together again, or even tear them up altogether. As Luna tapped ever deeper into the arcane and refined her powers over the dominion of the mind, our little ponies grew wary. Her magic cast terror into many a young heart.

Although her powers peaked by manipulating the minds of others, in the most exotic of cases her magic extended into physical reality. By sacrificing a piece of her own soul, she could bind that fragment to another pony, intertwining her soul with theirs. But the feeble body of a mortal creature could not contain even a fraction of her powers – and so their bodies changed in accordance with their souls.

So were made the Night Guards, from the ponies rejected by the rest of our kind: all of them petty criminals, thieves, hooligans, and children lost in the night. The Senate attacked Luna mercilessly for shielding these ponies from the punishment they rightfully deserved.

But Luna knew better. She knew all they needed was direction. In the Night Guard they could find meaning in their lives, and through honourable service their wretched souls would be mended.

Every Night Guard carried a piece of Luna within themselves, and through her they were connected to each other: a bond deeper than friendship, family, or any fleeting mortal love. They were all part of Luna, and Luna was part of them.

Yet for all her might, even my sister's magic could not create knowledge where there was none.

When Luna approved a pony's application to the Night Guard, they would be sent to train – mentally as well as physically – for six months. At the end of their training, Luna would see them again – and they would emerge from the night altered by her magic, with the strength of a dozen and the experience of a hundred.

It was during our young stallion's first week of training that he met a young mare. Her name doesn't matter.

They gathered all the new volunteers in an open field at midday, just outside the Old City, with Night Guards watching over them. It was rare to see Night Guards during the day, and even rarer to see so many at once. The ponies that lived nearby knew to leave well enough alone.

Around them, the grass had long since been trampled away through years and decades of use: nothing but dust and earth to crumble beneath their hooves.

Silhouette stuck the spiked tip of his wing into the dirt and walked around the two trainees, drawing a circle at a few steps' radius.

“This will be your playing field,” he said. “When I say go, all you need do is throw your partner out of the ring. Simple. Impress me.”

The two inside the circle turned to face one another. As they backed to opposite ends, they sized each other up.

The mare was older than the stallion, but not by much; his body sculpted by a life on the streets, hers by an application to the Royal Guard that was never accepted. He had taught himself to fight, whilst she learned from masters of the craft.

She was everything he hated, although he did not know it: a goodie-two-horseshoes from a military family, the kind of pony who kept the likes of him down. He was everything she hated, although she did not know it: a good-for-nothing who let his life waste away after his family threw him out, rather than making something of himself like she did when her family disowned her.

Right now, all they were to each other were opponents to be beaten, beaten to show Silhouette they were better, beaten out of pride to show to themselves they were not useless.

He carved the earth with the edge of his hoof. “Ready to dance, big girl?”

She ground her teeth and spat onto the dirt. “I'm always ready, small boy.”

Silhouette hid a smirk behind his hoof. “Go!”

They threw themselves at each other with the desperation of ponies who had something to prove. They kicked, they bit, they trampled, and dust swelled in the air; within seconds she shoved him out of the ring and triumphantly planted a hoof on his neck. Even when she took her hoof off, the stallion remained on the ground, burning in the shameful flames of his own inadequacy.

Silhouette raised a brow at him. The stallion looked away, huffing at the slowly settling dust.

“You're not going to let a girl beat you, are you, son?”

He scoffed, getting to his hooves and locking eyes with the mare. She, in turn, took to her fighting stance that the stallion had no doubt she'd been spoonfed in some fancy academy or another. He'd bested Royal Guards before. He wasn't going to let this girl beat him.

Three rounds later, he finally triumphed. By that time, both of them could barely stand on their hooves. Bruises, scratches, and even bites littered their skin; their joints burned, their bones ached, and their lungs felt ready to rip with each excruciating breath. They dropped to the ground opposite to one another, eyes set on those of their partner, waiting for the moment the other jumped.

The mare looked away first, turning to Silhouette. “A girl?”

He shrugged. “It was one way to get the kid motivated.”

The stallion turned to Silhouette now. “The kid?”

The mare clambered to her hooves, chuckling weakly. “You sure I'm fighting the right guy?”

She extended a hoof to the young stallion. He hesitated a moment before taking it and standing up as well. “You wanted to motivate me?” he asked. He dug at the earth again, grinning at Silhouette. “You know, I still haven't paid you back for last time.”

Silhouette looked them over, his expression blank. He then walked past them and took his place at the centre of the circle. When he turned to them again, he grinned as well, cracking his neck. “Well then. Impress me.”

And so the two fought him, giving their all until their bodies gave out. The trainees had already been too weak to overpower a Night Guard before training started, but they felt all the more proud for trying. Silhouette would go on to write a shining report on the two.

Six months passed, and the stallion and the mare finished their training. When they admitted Luna's soul into their own, they did not merely find a new life; they received new names as well. Crescent Strike and Nightsong were inseparable, their mental link stronger than that of any of their peers'. With the elder Silhouette to guide them, they would change the world, they thought.

In a way, perhaps, they really have – but not 'til decades past.

Swift Sweep

Twilit Grotto slammed his hoof onto the table, making our bowls of soup bounce and clatter. “Can you believe this?”

News spread fast in the EBSS. To be reassigned was the ultimate insult one could suffer, and by dinner time, everypony knew about us. Grotto's outburst didn't elicit much of a response from the rest of the mess hall; the clattering of spoons continued, nopony turning our way. It was only us old dogs inside, from the first generation, and everypony knew better than to rub salt into the wound by staring.

I lifted my spoon to my mouth in an attempt to keep cool and continue with my meal. I ground my teeth for a moment in preparation of opening my mouth – and ended up throwing the spoon back into the bowl, splashing soup everywhere. “After everything we've done!” I pressed my hooves against my eyes with a sigh. “This is what we get.”

Grotto hadn't touched his soup. “I'm appalled. I... I, really, I've lost my appetite. Reassign us... reassign her big fat rump.”

Opposite to me, Lullaby ate her meal without a word.

“We'll probably get stuck with some boring desk job,” I muttered.

“Steam-opening letters in a shack,” Grotto grumbled.

“This isn't what she promised us at the Breaking of Dawn.”

“We were supposed to help Equestria rise from the ashes.”

“Make up for the Longest Night.”

“And she wipes us off like manure from a boot.” Grotto looked to Lullaby. “Don't you have anything to say?”

Lullaby lifted her bowl to her mouth, drinking the last drops of soup. She licked her lips clean, then reached for a napkin before returning Grotto's gaze. “You boys are so dramatic.”

I gawked at how she seemed perfectly content. “Don't you care at all?” I asked.

Lullaby raised a brow, and waited a second before responding. “Since Silhouette isn't here to reel you two in, it appears I'll have to. Consider the following.” She fluttered the one wing she still had, stretching the broken stub of the other. “I, for one, am quite happy to not chase down cultists for a while. Fact is, we're getting old. Good on Celestia for recognising that. Let the young 'uns handle it, I say.”

“Those damn kids?” The words themselves put a bad taste into my mouth. “They don't know anything. They have no idea about us. About what the EBSS is.”

“You're forgetting that the EBSS isn't about us,” Lullaby replied. “That seems to go for you too, Grotto, and I thought you were the smart one. This has never been about us, both of you know that. You should know that.”

She cast a stare that made me wish I was back in the throne room with Celestia.

“This is all about the Princess,” she continued. “Damage control. She had an awful lot of trash to get rid of: the Senate and us Night Guards. That's what the EBSS was for. Remove the Night Guards, get a cleaning crew in their place, neuter the Senate. Everything else is secondary. We are secondary.”

Grotto scoffed and crossed his hooves. “This is about basic dignity and respect. We served Luna for however long, then we've served her for twenty years, and this is how she repays us.”

Lullaby shook her head, like a mother does at her obtuse son. “She doesn't care. She made the EBSS to get rid of the Night Guards because she knew none of us would refuse. Now that the Night Guards are the scapegoats of history, she just wants the EBSS to do its job. We old dogs are a liability. The only reason we're even still around is her conscience preventing her from getting rid of us for good. The unfortunate reality, and I hate to break this to you boys, is that we need her more than she needs us.”

She leaned back in her seat, throwing a foreleg over the backrest. “Do I feel insulted? A little. But I'm pushing fifty, and quite frankly, I don't mind a little break. Look at you two, bickering like a pair of spoilt brats. Silhouette would be ashamed.”

Grotto cast his gaze down at his soup, muttering under his breath. “Thanks, Mum.”

I took a spoonful of soup and spent a moment chewing the spoon – mulling over Lullaby's words. She was right, as always, though I didn't feel like saying that out loud. I put the spoon down and turned back to Grotto. “Any word on our new assignments?”

“Nothing yet.” He looked up, craning his neck and suddenly fixed his gaze on something behind me. “Or...”

River Flow entered the mess hall and headed straight for us, a pair of envelopes in his mouth. When he got here, we greeted him with a collective “Evening.”

He spat the envelopes onto the table and slid one to Lullaby, clearing his throat. “Evening. Been called by Celestia, said to give you this. I assume you know what it is.” He cast me a glance. “Congratulations. You two get to be on the same project.”

He moved to slide the other envelope to Grotto, but Grotto snatched it up before River could reach it and quickly tore it open with his teeth.

I leaned back and eyed Lullaby. “So?”

She carefully opened the envelope with the handle of her spoon and began reading the contents. “Surveillance job. Regarding the break-in at the Archives the other day. Have to head to the Archives first for more info and to review the recording of the event. And... oh.” She lowered the letter, smirking at me. “Looks like I'm going to be your boss, being your senior.”

“I suspected as much. Good thing I like being around older mares.” I picked up my spoon. “Permission to finish dinner first, big girl.”

“Granted, small boy.” She sent me a smile, then ran her gaze over the letter again. “You're being quiet, TG.”

Twilight Grotto had his eyes fixed on the letter in his hooves, his expression frozen; his eyes held an understated horror while his lips trembled in a half-smile. After a moment of silence, even Lullaby looked up from our letter.

I leaned to peek at Grotto's letter. “What is it?”

He placed the letter onto the table upside down, pinning it with a hoof, and glared forward with a blank expression. “Project White Wolf,” he whispered. “It would appear they need a new project lead.”

I sat up. Lullaby put her letter down. River Flow was not fazed easily, yet even he seemed to pale at the name. Such was the effect of Project White Wolf. Grotto didn't have to say anything else.

It was a demon of Nightmare Moon's creation, one of many to be unleashed upon the world during the Longest Night. Yet this one had a special place of notoriety, a place that made even the hardliners of the EBSS quaver.

Project White Wolf was our longest-running project, having started right after the establishment of the EBSS twenty years ago. Few field agents could claim to have been on it longer than one or two years, however. As for those who did, well, they had long got their affairs in order.

We'd all heard the stories of the ways the beast got rid of his pursuers. Impaled and burned; hanged by her own entrails; posed by strings among mannequins; even one with his spine broken and mouth shoved in his own backside. The White Wolf appeared to take great pride in his own sadistic ingenuity.

And now Twilit Grotto, the failed leader of Project Heartbreak, would be next. Celestia could not have found a better way to communicate her disappointment.

Lullaby reached out, placing a hoof on his. “I'm sorry.”

His hoof jerked back, curling up at his chest. “About what?” he chortled. “That I get to be the one to catch the bastard? I mean, he's been sighted near Canterlot.” He picked the letter up in one hoof and whipped the tip of the other at it, piercing the paper. “Says so right here. This'll be a walk in Canterlot Park.”

River remained quiet all throughout. He took a deep breath, straightened his back, and slowly raised a hoof to his forehead: he saluted.

I stood up to follow his lead. Lullaby did too.

As Grotto looked us over, it seemed like he wanted to say something, but swallowed the word. His hoof went slack and let the letter fall. He buried his face in his hooves, and spent the better part of a minute like that, slouching over the table, rubbing his forehead. When he looked up again, his eyes were wet but there were no marks of tears on his cheeks.

“Did I...” he whispered, “did I ever tell you why I joined the Night Guard?”

I remembered asking, but never receiving an answer.

“I was... young and stupid. As far from nobility as I could be. Didn't stop me from pretending. Sneaked into these posh parties and galas, talking to the fillies. Let's say I got around. Lots of impressionable young mares out there. Lots of little flings.” He laughed briefly before choking on his breath. “Never stayed for the morning, of course. I just wanted to have fun.”

He sighed deeply. “Then one of them found me. She actually found me. She was one of the finer catches, too, a Germane noble on her father's side. And pregnant, apparently.” He clapped his hooves on his chest. “I realised her daddy was going to make an example out of this little scoundrel. Probably her, too. She asked us to run away together. I ran away alone. And... you can guess the rest.”

He leaned back in his chair to stare at the ceiling.

“I remember seeing her with a brat during the Longest Night, and I remember...” He massaged his temples. “She didn't recognise me. I remember letting them run away 'cause it was more fun. I think they survived. So that's lucky.” He rubbed his eyes, then looked at us. “I've always been lucky.”

“You'll pull through,” said Lullaby.

I nodded. “If there's anypony who can catch that monster, it's you.”

River Flow coughed, swallowed, then spoke. “I hope it'll be quick.”

Grotto chuckled. “Yeah.” He pushed his chair out, throwing it aside as he stood up. He didn't look at us after that; he just walked for the exit with short, dragged steps. “So do I.”

There was no time to mourn for Grotto. We had a job of our own – and I thanked whatever powers that existed for getting the boring one.

It was late evening by the time Lullaby and I got to the Lunar Wing of the Canterlot Archives, accompanied by a squad of Royal Guards. Chilling night air flowed in through the enormous hole that gaped where the intricate window used to be in the ceiling. Thick iron bars covered the hole, so as to prevent unwanted ponies from flowing in too. One of the bars was of a slightly different colour than the rest, and perhaps just a bit thicker, too – a replacement for the broken one, no doubt.

Guards swarmed all around us, flying this way and running that way, methodically examining every shelf and cataloguing what they found. As a guard rushed by, I noticed a small black patch on the parquet nearby, as though the wood had been burnt.

A guard came up to us and saluted. I could not properly gauge his age – but younger than me. He seemed a spindly, thin sort; his armour rattled something awful as he walked, its pieces barely meeting where they should. A single Sun-gold stripe painted across his right pauldron told me he'd traded fitness for rank. Inherited, in all likelihood.

“This is where it happened,” he began. His voice was surprisingly deep for his frame. “The thief, or thieves, have stolen multiple books over an indeterminate period of time. It was only last week that one of Celestia's scribes realised a number of books were missing from the Archives.”

Lullaby raised a brow. “How could they have pulled that off, breaking into the Archives on multiple occasions?” The guard shifted uncomfortably, but didn't avert his gaze. Lullaby turned to me. “How are curfew laws again? They're being changed so often, I lose track.”

“I don't think we have curfew right now,” I replied. “Princess Celestia is honouring her sister's memory.” Until she decides to change her mind again, I mentally added.

“With all due respect,” the guard interjected, “what's done is done. We should look at the task ahead of us.”

“Go on, then,” urged Lullaby.

The guard waved a hoof high, and two other guards walked up to the centre of the room, their horns lighting up. Their auras descended like fog onto the parquet directly under the barred opening and crept between the minute cracks between the floorboards.

Two of the boards lit up, rising and floating a step's distance in opposing directions before placing themselves on the floor. They revealed a large blue gemstone hidden beneath the parquet, at least the size of my head, chiselled into an eyeball.

Lullaby bent down to have a closer look. “That's when you installed an Eye Crystal, I take it.”

The guard nodded. “Princess Celestia wished that we catch the culprit in action. We did not know when the thefts took place, or even if it had been a one-time deed. Regardless, we spent several nights on alert, and our efforts paid off a few nights ago.”

“Did they?” I asked. “Had you caught the culprit, we wouldn't be here.”

The guard cast his gaze aside for a brief moment. “Regrettably, we could not apprehend the thief. The Princess said this might be to our advantage, however. By all accounts, she is not aware we've seen her face.”

“Well then,” Lullaby said, “let us see.”

“Yes, ma'am.” The guard cleared his throat, turning away from us. “Listen up, fillies!”

No guard had paid us any mind up to this point – they weren't supposed to stop working, not even for the EBSS – but now they all turned our way. Runners stopped dead in their tracks, pegasi that were in the air slowly descended, and the ones with books in in their hooves quietly slipped them back onto the shelves.

“We are showing the recording,” the guard continued, voice booming across the entire wing. “Sit on your hooves!” A round of nods and muttered 'yes-sir's later, the room fell completely silent. Seeing his effect on the other guards, I thought maybe this guy had earned his rank after all.

The guard turned back to us, setting his hooves and thrusting his horn forward. As he closed his eyes, I saw his lips part to reveal clenched teeth, brows furrowed with concentration. First, a pale blue spark crackled at the tip of his horn; then, the entire horn burst with light. My ear started to ring, and a moment later a thin beam of deep blue light shot from the guard's horn into the sapphire eye buried in the floor.

The magical lights that illuminated the Lunar Wing extinguished themselves one by one, surrendering the room to the darkness of night. Above, stars winked out in the sky and the Moon itself grew dim before disappearing entirely. Then, from the pitch darkness, the eye in the floor came alive with an eerie glow.

A burst of magic surged from the crystal, spreading out across the floor and every surface inside the room. It washed over the pillars that held the ceiling, the many shelves and every book they held – all the while ignoring us ponies. Whatever the magic touched took on an ethereal glow somewhere between blue and green. Magical lights relit themselves in the same strangely tinted colour. In the ceiling the window reappeared, and blue-green moonlight began pouring through the stained glass.

A tiny point of light appeared not far before me. It took me a second to recognise it as the glowing horn of the guard.

“This is when she entered,” he said.

Behind me, the ghostly image of the gate opened up, and a spectral pony sneaked in. It was a large form – when I first saw, I could have mistaken her for a stallion.

She skipped to the middle of the room, passing right through me with a childlike joy in her steps. Every step of the way, she pulled smudged, inky shadows through the air that took a second to disperse. The clopping of her hooves sounded strange and distorted, distant even – almost like I was listening to them underwater.

She stopped for a moment under the window to flick her long, thick mane back behind her ears.

As she began turning in place, her ghastly visage creased first into a slight smile, then a full-blown grin. Arching her back, she spread her wings wide and took off. The guard, Lullaby and I followed the spectre through the room. For the time being, she stayed on the ground floor.

From her bag she took out a piece of parchment, the contents of which were far too smudged to make out. After a quick look through it, she seemed to know exactly where to go. From the way she scanned the paper, I guessed it contained her instructions.

“She takes a book here,” the guard explained. “Then she flies upstairs to get another one. It's safe to assume she would have taken more, had we not disturbed her.”

The spectre did as the guard said; though I could easily follow her through the air as she went upstairs for the second book, one-winged Lullaby and the poor wingless unicorn had to scramble up the stairs to keep up.

The spectral mare slipped a book into her bag, then a replacement onto the shelf. She hopped to perch on the rails overlooking the lower level, spreading her wings for balance.

That's when the gate began glowing brighter, sparks of magic crackling through the keyhole.

The ghost's expression changed in an instant from playful excitement to dead seriousness. She kicked herself off the balcony with burst of speed, leaving behind wisps of vapour. She slammed into a shelf to tip it right at the gate. As I followed the action in the air, the guard tugged Lullaby to the lower level.

“There's the enchanted gem,” the guard said as the spectre pulled out a red, glowing crystal from her bag.

She put it against one of the bars that covered the window, and the bar took on a red hue as well. A sudden bang on the gate made the mare's wings skip a beat, the gem falling out of her hoof in turn. She dove and reached for it, but not fast enough; the gem eluded her grasp. It split against the floor where I'd seen the burnt patch, red heat spewing from the crack like water from a burst pipe.

A blast of magic knocked the tipped shelf away from the gate. The spectre rocketed through the air to kick it right back, and then she flew up to the window again. She wrapped her hooves around the damaged bar, and I saw her face screw up with pain as she began pulling. Her wings spread wide, beating fast and hard to add every last bit she had.

The bar first bent, then broke with a snap where she'd held the gem to it. Without a moment's rest, the spectre joined her hooves together and began banging on the point of the break, with all the desperate strength of a trapped animal. Every hit against the cold metal bent it more, and every hit elicited from behind the spectre's clenched teeth a scream that was a little louder than the one before. The ghost's voice reverberated oddly from the walls, seemingly from different directions every second.

When there was just enough room to barely fit her frame, the spectre kicked out the window and fled through the gap formed by the broken bar. When the army of ghostly Royal Guards finally broke into the Lunar Wing, mere seconds later, they were already too late.

In a flash of light, the spectres disappeared, but the room remained dark.

“That's it?” I asked as I descended.

The guard led Lullaby to the centre under the window to join with me, a tiny spark at the tip of his horn lighting the way.

“It is,” he said. “It is also more than enough.”

His horn flared with light, shooting a thin beam at the Eye Crystal. Colours began swirling all around us, blurry images of ponies whizzing by amidst broken, distantly echoing sounds. The surge of magic died off, and the image of the spectral mare reappeared, standing still as a statue at the centre under the intact window, her grin shining in the moonlight.

“We're going back to the start,” the guard explained. “This is the culprit as she entered. I ask you both to take a good look at her.”

Lullaby and I exchanged a look before stepping forward. Although details were smudged, from the greenly glowing picture one could still make out the general outlines of the thief's features.
Long mane and tail, as luscious as they were thick, with individual hairs sticking out all over like from the coat of a wirehaired dog.

Lullaby stepped next to the spectre, head to head, and sized her up. She then took a step to the side – stepping inside the spectral form, and coming up smaller in every dimension. “She's humongous. What are they feeding the kids these days?”

“She doesn't look that young, does she?” I leaned into the spectre's face with a hoof on my chin as Lullaby stepped out. “Mid-twenties, maybe? Although... that's an awfully round face for an adult. Definitely a kid.”

“That saddlebag doesn't look too light either. Must have been filled with books.” She turned to the guard. “Blanks, you said?”

“Yes,” he replied. “She replaced the books she took with blanks to make the thefts less apparent.”

“What's with the bracelet?” Lullaby pointed to the front right leg of the spectre; a chain of tiny baubles hung there, strapped tightly around her fetlock.

“We don't believe it to be magical in nature,” the guard said. “It would be glowing if it were. Now, do you believe you've taken a good enough look?”

I eyed the spectre up and down. “I don't recognise her, if that's what you're asking. It's especially difficult without seeing true colour.”

“It is not what I'm asking.”

Although the darkness made it difficult to make out the guard's face, I could've sworn from the way he formed his words that he was smirking. Presumptuous little fiend.

The light dancing at the tip of his horn followed the sway of his head as he turned the other way. “Prof, you're up.”

Hoofsteps. A small bump, and a muffled “Excuse me.” From the darkness emerged an older-looking fellow; his monocle shone in the magical light.

The guard raised a hoof as he approached. “This is—”

“Golden Monocle,” Lullaby said, extending a hoof to the professor.

“Ah, so you do remember,” Monocle said through a forced smile as he Lullaby's hoof.

I extended a hoof as well. “But of course. You are an exemplary citizen of Equestria.”

I've been told about my uncomfortably firm hoofshakes. The hoof of the prof felt as cold and limp as a dead fish, and he was quick to pull it back. “Why t-thank you. I must apologise, as do not seem to remember your names.”

“Ma'am will do,” Lullaby said.

“Sir,” I added.

The professor gulped. “Yes, I see.”

Being a professor at Canterlot University, to the students he was king of life and death. Our presence, however, reduced him to but a stuttering little colt. I always found that curious. As a long time informant of the EBSS, he of all ponies had nothing to fear from us.

I mean, we knew for fact he didn't.

The guard levitated a sheet of paper before us and shone a magical light on it. From the sheet, the picture of a young mare looked back at us. “This is a sketch based on the recording inside the Eye Crystal. Please compare the sketch to the crystal's projection.”

“They seem very much alike to me,” I said.

“As they do to me,” Lullaby confirmed.

At the flash of the guard's horn, the sheet rolled itself up. “Thank you. We brought the professor in to help us identify the culprit. He claims to recognise her.”

Golden Monocle cleared his throat and adjusted his emblematic eyepiece before speaking. “Yes, indeed. It would be quite hard to forget. Miss New Page has made quite an impression on me. She was especially interested and, might I add, knowledgeable in the topic of the Longest Night.”

“New Page?” I tingly feeling at the back of my mind told me I'd heard that name before.

“Oh, that New Page?” Lullaby asked. “Yes, the name's crossed my desk. She's been on our list of potentially disruptive individuals for years now.” She leaned closer to me, muttering under her breath. “Right under Storming Falls, remember?”

I slapped a hoof on my face. “Oh, don't even mention that guy.”

Lullaby shook her head slowly. “It's always the promising young ones. Talk about falling from grace. Such a shame.”

“A shame indeed,” Monocle said with a sigh. “I was very much looking forward to teaching her. Now...” He looked to the guard, then back to us. “Will that be all? I have important business of my own, a-and it is getting late. I've already given my full account, I believe the Royal Guard should have the transcription.”

The guard answered by turning to us.

Lullaby shot me a look, and I returned her gaze. Lullaby looked back at the guard. “I believe this is what we came for.”

“Very well, ma'am.” The guard threw up a hoof and whistled, and another guard swiftly trotted over, throwing himself to attention as he stopped. “Escort our guests out. Make sure that sir and ma'am receive all the necessary files.”

Then he set his hooves again and fired his magic at the Eye Crystal. The spectre's image dissolved like a puff of smoke, as did the ethereal glow that enveloped everything. After a moment of pitch blackness, the stars came aflame in the sky, and the Moon reappeared from darkness' veil. Flash by flash, the magical lights that shone inside the Lunar Wing all burst to life as well.

“The EBSS thanks you for your help,” said Lullaby. “I don't believe I need to tell you that as far as the Royal Guard should be concerned, this case is closed. You've never heard of it.”

The guard smirked, this time fully visibly in the light. “Heard of what, ma'am?” He saluted.

Lullaby saluted him. I was never one to respect Royal Guards, not in my time in the EBSS or ever before, but now I felt pressured to salute as well. I followed Lullaby's example, then we turned to our escorts. I could almost feel Silhouette pat my shoulder.

It was good that Lullaby was still around. She really did keep me in check.

Tiny apartments dotted the southern mountainside like cells in a beehive. They were temporary places of residence for the workers, students, and other ponies from the lower castes; quite disruptive, I found, to Canterlot's projected image of being a hub for only the richest and most powerful.

New Page left home at the break of dawn, right at the start of the great morning rush. Pegasi swarmed in the air as the earth ponies and the occasional unicorn scrambled past one another, making their way down the steep slopes into the streets.

The two of us had spent the night in the vacant apartment directly above New Page's, spying from the window for our target to leave. Once she was gone, we got dressed in uniforms of common construction workers; I attached a toolbox to my belt whilst Lullaby threw a bag over her shoulders and got a paint bucket's handle between her teeth. With our ragged, blotched overalls, we were rendered entirely invisible to the eyes of the rushing crowd.

Our younger contacts at the university described Page as a meticulous young filly, attending as many classes as she could, spending any downtime in the public wings of the Archives. Today, she wouldn't be home until early evening.

Lullaby looked into the mirror on the wall, adjusting her hard hat and tightening her saddlebag. “Ready?”

I saluted – a formality, really, since she was the leader of the two-pony Project Bookworm – and Lullaby nodded back, then went for the door. I locked up behind us, and we quickly made our way down the sloped path to New Page's apartment. Lullaby picked out a tiny red gem from her pocket, bouncing it in her hoof once before pressing it against the keyhole.

Tendrils of magic extended from the gem and crawled into the hole. After a few clicks and metallic clatters, the lock clacked, opening the way for us.

Once inside, Lullaby pocketed the gem and threw her bag down. She fished out a sizeable scroll, unrolling it to pin it against the wall: a house plan for the apartment. Not much to be seen, really, as New Page's home consisted of but three rooms: the bathroom – whose door stood directly opposite to the entrance – a living room on the right, and a narrow corridor that connected them.

“Alright.” Lullaby poked a hoof at the parchment, onto the bathroom. “I'll do this one and the anteroom. You, the bedroom, and you'll set the Eye Crystal. Ten minutes.”

“Yes, ma'am.” No use wasting words; we'd both done this a dozen times before and knew exactly what our job was. I wagered we'd be done in five. Our more magically inclined friends back at the labs of HQ have already done most of the work for us.

I liked taking a quick look around before I got to work; not that we were here for a thorough search, but one could always find something interesting. The smallest little details often revealed the most about the lives of other ponies.

I turned into the bedroom, stepping over the old, cracked parquet onto the rug thrown in the middle. In its better days, that rug may have been quite pleasing to the eye; under layers of dust and pieces of paper with half-done notes and scrawls, I recognised what seemed to be embroidered shapes of ponies and stars. I didn't know Canterlot to provide much in the way of furnishing for these apartments; a memory brought from home, perhaps?

To call this place a 'bedroom', I found, was a misnomer: 'living room' would have been far more apt, inasmuch that New Page indeed had to live in this tiny space. The bed was short and narrow, barely big enough for a pony, nevertheless one of her size; a careless turn in midnight hours could easily send her rolling over the side. The plain mattress showed signs of considerable wear and discolouration from years of sweat, with the rough shape of a pony sunken into its material.

A single window let the morning light flood in. I quickly closed the curtains. Under the window was a desk packed with books and parchments; a quick scan revealed titles ranging from history through geography to astronomy and beyond. By the titles and short notes I glanced at, Page appeared keenly – and unhealthily – interested in the stars and the Mare in the Moon. A laundry list of skipped payments and a hastily scrawled note revealed she was saving up to buy a telescope.

A bookshelf took up most of the wall opposite the bed, wide and packed to near-collapse, with many more books thrown into a pile at its base. The cramped room appeared even smaller than the house plan had let on. No wonder Page preferred to spend her time away from home.

I took a peek under the bed – and pulled out a book. Evidently Page had not anticipated any unexpected guests, else she'd have hidden it better. It seemed much thinner – and far less battered from extensive use – than the rest of Page's reading; one of the stolen books, no doubt. I blew off some dust to read the title.

'Memoirs in the Night', by Silhouette. I felt a cold shower on my back. My hoof tensed its grip on the tome. I'd never have thought I'd see this book again.

It was a short account of Silhouette's memories from his service in the Night Guard, finished but a month or so before the Longest Night. He could never afford to have it printed, and now that Celestia wished to bury anything relating to the Night Guards of old, it would truly never see the light of day. This was the only copy out there, as far as I knew, written through gruelling effort by mouth and hoof by Silhouette.

And if it weren't for Page, it'd be rotting in the Archives, unread and forgotten.

I scoffed. As if gathering dust under a bed was any better. And who knew where all the other stolen books went...

I wanted to put the book back, but I couldn't do it. I just couldn't let go. The more I tried to release it, the harder my hooves gripped the covers. It was a flimsy binding, and even flimsier paper; all that Silhouette could afford. The payment for a Night Guard's service, after all, was service itself. A bigger sneeze would've ruined the whole thing.

He'd always bugged me to read it – he had a chapter about the ne'er-do-well he caught and turned into a stallion from little colt – but I never managed to get myself to it. I certainly had no time now.

I closed my eyes and pictured Silhouette before me. He'd have been proud of me, I think, for carrying on. Rest well, old friend.

I put the book back where it was. No need to arouse suspicion.

Undoing the latch that bound my toolbox, I let it fall onto the floor. The top opened up and exposed the dozens of tiny blue gems that glittered inside. I picked one out. Now then, where do I put you?

The large bookshelf seemed a good bet. We'd always need places with good vision, and seeing whatever Page was reading at any given time would be most useful.

In the tiny room, one could almost reach the ceiling just by rearing on their hind legs – but just almost. I had to flap my wings and carefully hover to comfortably work on the ceiling. Books opened and their pages fluttered in the wind my wings created, papers and notes flying about everywhere.

The ceiling was the mountain itself, really; the architects of these apartments didn't bother to cover the stone in any way after they bored this hole that some begrudgingly called an apartment. Its surface was rough and uneven, with many minute angles and depressions all over. I picked a spot where I could angle the crystal at the shelf.

The gem itself was barely bigger than a tooth: hardly noticeable even without the myriad obfuscating enchantments the unicorns had wrapped around it. Touching it to the stone, I pressed hard to signal activation. The crystal flashed with a dim blue light. When I pulled my hoof back, the gem stuck to the ceiling. I blinked once, and it disappeared from my vision completely.

I confirmed that it was in the right place with a tiny poke with the tip of a hoof; the crystal pulsed into my vision before fading into nothingness again. One down.

The trick was to planting scrying crystals was that they had to create, all together, one cohesive image of the apartment. Lullaby got done with the bathroom before I finished here.

“Are you quite done yet?” she asked, leaning against the bedroom's door frame.

“Yeah, yeah,” I grumbled as I reared on Page's cluttered desk, trying not to knock anything off while fiddling on the ceiling. “Can't seem to get this one to stick.”

Lullaby tapped her hoof. “I'm fairly certain our ten minutes are up.”

“And I'm not. Fight me, big girl.”

“I beat your sorry rump all the way to the Old City last time, small boy.”

I didn't hear her say that, of course; I was too busy with the crystal to pay attention.

With a flash and a blink, the last blue crystal disappeared. I clapped my hooves and hopped from the desk. “Is it weird if I kind of like doing this? Makes you feel powerful, bugging somepony's home, doesn't it?”

Lullaby smacked my head. “They're not 'bugs', they're advanced scrying crystals. And we're not here to live out your dirty power fantasies, but to serve Celestia.”

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, I'm sure it's in Celestia's best interests that we watch this little filly while ponies like Nichts and Nie are out there.”

A sly smirk appeared on her lips. “Do I detect some faint resentment towards our glorious leader?”

I chuckled. “Of course not, who do you think I am? No, all I'm saying is I think it'd be wiser to send a squad of Royal Guards to the university and arrest her on the spot. I'm sure she'd love to tell us everything she knows.”

“And the second we do that, whoever she's working for will disappear.” She shook her head. “I know you're not being serious, but come now.”

I dropped onto the dirty carpet and crossed my hooves. Not even ten minutes in this place, and it was already depressing; the thought of having to watch it for days on end made me feel incredibly uncomfortable. “I just hate sitting on my hooves.”

Lullaby sat down beside me and clapped a hoof on my back. “Look. I'd like to bust in and grab her as much as you, believe me. In fact, I'm fairly certain Celestia knows this.”

I rolled my eyes. “Doesn't she always know best.”

“Yeah. And that's exactly why she ordered us to sit and do nothing. She's not entirely pleased with us, in case you've missed it. She gave us a pity assignment while the puppies do the real work. Now, if Nightmare Moon herself comes through that door, all we do is write it down, report it, and leave it for them to figure out. That's our job, nothing else.” She craned her head to look directly in my eyes. “You got that? I'm asking as your boss now, have you got that?”

I saluted the wall in front of me. “I'm good at following orders.”

Lullaby sighed and stood up. From the corner of my eyes, I saw her shake her head. “Just get the Eye Crystal and let's get out of here.”

We'd left the paint bucket in the anteroom. Unlike what the label said, however, this one contained not 'Skyshine's Sky Blue: the prettiest there is' but a single blue crystal cut into the shape of an eyeball, much like the one we'd seen at the Archives. The difference was merely one of size: Page's apartment was smaller than the Lunar Wing, and so its fitting Eye Crystal was no wider than my hoof.

Lullaby detached a saw from her harness and clenched her teeth on the handle. “The rug,” she mumbled.

I pulled the worn rug away, slowly and gently, exposing the dust-free centre of the parquet. Lullaby quickly got to work with her saw: she slid the blade between the planks and cut carefully along the line. She quickly sawed around a plank, then stuck the saw underneath to force it up from the floor, exposing the hard stone underneath.

She nodded her head to the hole.

I nodded back. Careful not to touch the bottom of the eye, I angled its pupil directly upwards and touched the gem to the exposed stone. Though I'd done this many times, I still felt somewhat anxious; you could easily lose a hoof with this thing.

Standing up, I put my front hooves onto the crystal's pupil, pressing down hard with all my weight. The crystal flashed under the pressure and began sending tremors down into the stone. The tremors intensified, and the layer of stone directly under it crumbled to pieces.

The Eye Crystal's magic ground the mountain's stone into fine dust, digging deeper and deeper. I heard the books patter lightly on the shelf at the back, and the parquet vibrated under my hind hooves. The crystal itself, though, made no sound as it pummelled its way into the stone.

When the pupil of the eye came level with the stone, I took my hooves off – and the tremors stopped. I knocked on the eye once, making it light up with a flash. At the same moment, every scrying crystal inside the apartment flashed as well.

I slid the removed plank back into its place. “And that's that.”

Lullaby clapped her hooves. “Finally. I'll put the rug back. You go upstairs and check the mirror.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

I left the apartment, exiting onto the hillside; Lullaby quickly closed the door behind me. I quickly walked up the slope into our vacant apartment above New Page's.

This one was even smaller than hers: nothing but one room, almost entirely unfurnished. The only thing of note – the only thing, really – was the standing mirror at the back, taking up most of that wall, and the desk and chair facing it. A small blue gem was embedded into the top of the mirror's frame. One knock on it, and my reflection disappeared to give way to something entirely different.

In the mirror appeared a top-down picture of New Page's apartment: the vision of every scrying crystal composited into one cohesive whole. It was not like looking through a window, but more like looking into a dream; angles were skewed and colours blotched in places, and the surface of the mirror appeared to shift and ripple slightly like a pond in light wind.

That's the price we had to pay for not having a slave unicorn keep up a perpetual scrying spell, though. Celestia had to go and outlaw that in her infinite wisdom and kindness; I had vague memories of the old slave who'd read to my blind grandfather before illness took him.

In our case, I supposed, enchanted crystals were indeed cheaper.

Lullaby looked up directly into a crystal, and through it into my eyes. “You got it?” She put up a hoof, smirking. “How many legs am I holding up?”

I couldn't answer her, of course. But for the most part, it seemed to be working; we'd properly bugged – I'm sorry, crystalled – the most important spaces.

Though I couldn't help but notice that the crystal above the desk was out of focus. I couldn't quite make out the titles of the books lying on it, though by all account I should've been able to. We'd have to fix that.

I left the vacant apartment with that in mind. Down the slope, I knocked on New Page's door. Two knocks, then a pause, and then another three: the code that signalled it was safe to open up. Just as I was about to step inside, I heard a voice behind me.

“Excuse me?”

Turning, I saw an earth pony mare – older than I was – with a woven basket in her hoof that held many bouquets of flowers. The mare craned her head to look into the apartment, but I stepped up in front of her.

“I-isn't this New Page's apartment?” she asked, trying to look past me. “I'm sorry, I just picked some flowers down the way, and...”

Lullaby didn't skip a beat. She stepped outside, closing the door and walking up to the old mare. “Indeed. Miss Page hired us to do a little bit of renovation.” She adjusted her hard hat. “Nothing to get hung up on.”

The mare nodded, but furrowed her brows. “Oh, I see, dear. It's just that...” She tried looking through the window, but found it blocked by the drawn curtains. “She never mentioned it, is all. She's so nice, though, she always takes the time to talk. And I didn't realise her scholarship could cover something like this.”

Before Lullaby could respond, I cleared my throat. “Your name wouldn't happen to be Pinegreens, would it?”

She looked me up and down. “Y-yes, that's me. Who might you be?”

“Your husband's work up on the spire is quite noteworthy. Few shed as much sweat as Heavy Hammer, despite his age. He really doesn't spare himself. I assume it is because your daughter Inky Mane failed to secure a scholarship for her rhetoric studies.”

Pinegreens shrunk away – and the dawning horror behind her eyes told me she realised who I was, and who we were. Personally, I did not enjoy scaring old ladies, but sometimes, that was part of the job.

The thing about the secret service is that everypony knows it exists. It wasn't that the EBSS watched everything. It was that everypony had to know we watched everything.

I leaned closer to her. “Now tell me, if you would, and be honest. Would you be able to pay for your daughter's education if Heavy Hammer were to lose his job?”

She gulped, meekly shaking her head and chewing her lower lip.

“Not a word to anypony. Do we have an understanding?”

She opened her mouth but failed to speak, and resorted instead to a slow, measured nod. She quickly lifted a hoof to hide her wavering lips, like I couldn't see.

“Thank you. You will be compensated for your cooperation.” I turned for the door, placing a hoof on the knob before sending Lullaby a nod.

We left the stunned mare outside and locked up behind us. “Wow,” was all Lullaby could say. She knew as well as I that was necessary. Sometimes I felt like she was harder on the rest of us than on the potential criminals.

I climbed onto the desk, rearing up and feeling along the ceiling to find the hidden scrying crystal. “This crystal is a bit off, but apart from that we're good.” I quickly found the crystal, and moved it a bit back. I stuck it to the ceiling again and waited for it to disappear before getting off the desk.

I pulled out the top drawer. “I'm going to do one more check upstairs, see if I can make out everything.”

As I began to walk for the door, I shot a glance into the drawer – and froze. There was a bracelet inside: a chain of shiny little baubles, just like the one worn by the spectral mare at the Archives. Not that we needed any more confirmation that we'd come to the right place. No, I paused because of something else. Although I did not realise it back in the Archives, I could see it plainly now.

I picked the bracelet up, inspecting it. I knew whose bracelet this was. My breaths started coming up shallow.

Lullaby stepped over. “What is it? What's that?”

I spoke without taking my eyes off the bracelet. “D-do we have New Page's file here?”

She reached into her bag and fished around for a moment. Finally, she handed over a parchment.

I quickly scanned the file, looking for her mother's name, hoping desperately to be wrong. But I wasn't. New Page was born two weeks before the Longest Night, as the daughter of one Veiled Quill. I understood, now, why her name sounded so familiar.

But that's not possible, I thought.

My heart pounded quickly, and the parchment fell from my grasp. My shaking hoof could barely hold on to the bracelet. My legs gave way; Lullaby had to catch me.

“Hey, look at me, small boy!”

Memories I thought I'd locked away resurged like a flood before my mind's eye. I saw the Old City burn. I heard Nightmare Moon's laughter in my ears, Veiled Quill's last, soul-rending scream, the baby's cries...

I found myself clutching the bracelet. Lullaby was saying something, but I couldn't hear the words. All I could think about was New Page. This could not have been the same New Page.

For New Page was dead. I killed her.

Our Little Histories

Princess Celestia

Once upon a time, there lived a noble unicorn. His name doesn't matter.

He hailed from a family who traced their lineage directly to Princess Platinum of old. He was as rich as he was prudish and preferred the company of paintings of long-dead ponies to the company of those who still walked the land. Many mistook his reclusive nature for timidity – perhaps even stoic wisdom – when in fact he was merely disgusted by the world. “Born after his time,” he used to grumble.

When he grew old and his age required him to join the Senate, he would rarely speak – but when he did, the hall would erupt in standing ovation. Not that his views were not controversial; he judged my sister and me, he urged the return of the old Senate without us to guide it, and most of all, he condemned Luna's practice of binding ponies to her soul.

Although his opponents outnumbered his supporters, even they had to admit that his words carried an uncanny charisma, and from his mouth even the most outrageous of claims became reasonable. In his supporters he inspired a fervour the kind of which I have not seen since.

Had they found out that he was not who wrought his own words, their faith may have faltered. He had opinions, to be sure, but his sheltered life had rendered him unable to express himself with the expected eloquence. I knew about it; Luna knew about it; the Night Guard knew about it. We would not reveal his secret, of course, for at the time I did not believe in silencing my opponents.

In his mansion lived several families who had been servants of his for generations. They were respected, educated, and perhaps even cherished. Born to a simple maid, Veiled Quill showcased immense finesse with words. She studied rhetoric on the noble's money, and became the mare to write his speeches. It helped that she shared most of the noble's scathing opinions – and she injected much of her own venom.

The night before a sitting of the Senate, three Night Guards had been dispatched to watch over Veiled Quill while she stayed at the Old Castle. The noble she served never attended without her. Nightsong perched on the balcony outside her room while Silhouette and Crescent Strike remained inside with Veiled Quill. She hated them, but law voted in part by the noble himself required us to protect all important personnel. A private joke, courtesy of my dear sister.

While Crescent Strike stood at the door, Silhouette focused his attention on the mare's bed, searching for any potential traps, magical or otherwise. The squabbling noble lot had been known for their treachery: all part of the reason they needed my sister and me.

Veiled Quill sat patiently, her teeth clenched and gaze fixed on the opposite wall. She knew Crescent Strike was looking, yet she endured without a word. It would have been most improper for a lady of her calibre to lose her temper.

“Nice bracelet,” Crescent Strike remarked.

Veiled Quill flinched and shut her eyes as if something had struck the back of her head. She took a deep breath and paused for a moment to hold it in before turning towards Crescent Strike. “Thank you,” she forced out between her teeth. “It was a gift from my husband.”

“Oh, don't shoot me down like that.” He chuckled, shifting his gaze to the mare's pregnant belly. If he listened just right, his bat ears could make out the faint beating of a tiny heart. “It was a genuine compliment. You'll find we are entirely uninterested in such pleasures.”

“Yes, I know all about Night Guard frigidity.” She looked to the side, grumbling under her nose. “Even Princess Luna doesn't want you to breed.”

“Why do you hate us?”

She ignored him, turning to Silhouette. “Are you quite done? Normal ponies need sleep, in case you've forgotten.”

Silhouette hopped into the bed and shuffled about on his back. “Almost, ma'am. Not feeling anything off.” He rolled off the other side of the bed and bent to feel the underside with a hoof. After a moment, he pulled out a little blue crystal. “And the gem isn't glowing. No curses.” He smoothed out the bedsheets, then took a step back and sent a nod. “Your room is perfectly safe, ma'am.”

“Good.” Veiled Quill stood up and quickly paced to the bed. “You can leave now.”

Silhouette nodded with a smile. He always smiled. “Nightsong will watch the balcony. Crescent Strike and I will stand guard at the door. If you need anything, you need only call.”

“Thank you,” she said, easing into the bed. “I won't. Blow out the candles on the way out.” She pulled the covers over her head and turned away from them.

Silhouette reached for the door handle, but Crescent Strike stood in his way. The younger Night Guard wouldn't budge, his eyes still set on Veiled Quill. “What if your kid turns out to be like us?”

Silhouette flared a stern look at Crescent Strike, to which he drooped his ears. He was just about to move out of the way when Veiled Quill sat up, eyes casting flames.

“My child...” She closed her lips to hide her clenched teeth, drawing in a sharp breath through her nose. “My child will be raised to be a productive member of society, unlike you motherless freaks. Should she wish to serve the Crowns, she will join her father in the Royal Guard.” She pointed to the door. “Out. The Princesses will be hearing about this.”

Crescent Strike opened his mouth, ready to lash out with an insulting comeback – but Silhouette spoke first. “Allow me to apologise on behalf of my partner. We shan't bother you any longer.” He blew out the candles on the nearby stand, then opened the door and threw Crescent Strike outside by the scruff of his neck.

As the echoes of the door shutting faded in the cold hallway, the pair of guards took their places on either side of the door. Crescent Strike's slit pupils dilated, quickly adjusting to the darkness. When he turned his head, he saw Silhouette looking down on him with the eyes of a disappointed father.

“No,” was all Silhouette said.

Crescent Strike cast his gaze down, looking for his words between the stone tiles. “Don't you hate them?” he whispered.

“You can't blame them for being afraid of something they don't understand.”

Crescent Strike stayed silent for a while. “We've changed, haven't we? We do so much for them. For everypony.”

Silhouette placed a hoof on his shoulder. “And that is all you need to know. They are not evil, son. Just uninformed.” He put his hoof down. “If you want to change their minds, be an exemplary Night Guard.”

Crescent Strike nodded, turning forward.

Silhouette spoke after a minute of silence. “I fear for Princess Luna.”

Crescent Strike turned, and found Silhouette still looking forward. “You're feeling it too?”

He nodded. “We all are.” He looked up, as though through the ceiling into the starry sky. “Something looms above us, something I can't name. We must be vigilant.” He turned to Crescent Strike. “Make the Princess proud.”

Crescent Strike turned forward. “We will.”

Although Silhouette didn't answer, Crescent Strike's ears picked up the turning of his neck as Silhouette, too, looked forward. The two stallions would sit there all night, still as gargoyles, their senses never faltering. They were good at that, the Night Guards, being invisible. They all had to learn to be.

Still Crescent Strike sat, blissfully ignorant of how fate would have him meet Veiled Quill again.

New Page

I didn't like my apartment very much. I was grateful to have a place to stay, of course, but it was tiny, dark, cluttered, and altogether uncomfortable. The Canterlot Archives were a lot more homely. I hesitated at first with going back there, with how my previous visit ended. Eventually I figured that if they had discovered my identity, I'd have been taken away already – and with a 'small' test coming up on the complete history of the Era of the Three Tribes, I didn't have much of a choice anyway.

I was lost in a book detailing how the Era of Warring Kingdoms ultimately led to Commander Hurricane's rise to power when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I had my front hooves on the table, and in the reflection of my bauble bracelet I made out the dim silhouette of a Royal Guard.

It took a second and the impatient clearing of a throat for me to look up. He stood behind my chair, with a spear over his shoulder and a piercing stare in his eyes. I recognised him as a guard I'd briefly evaded on my way to the Lunar Wing a few nights prior. I felt my blood freeze in my veins.

“Y-yes?” I asked.

“The Archives are closing,” he grumbled. “Time to go home, kid.”

“Oh.” I took a quick look around, finding nopony but myself, a few guards, and the kindly old custodian at her desk by the exit. The Mare in the Moon watched over all of us through the window with her brightly shining glare. “Sorry, I got caught up. Excuse me.” As I got up, I closed the book and lifted it for the guard. “I'll be checking this one out really quickly, if that's okay.”

The guard's only response was flaring his nostrils by exhaling deeply. He stepped aside and cocked his head toward the custodian.

I quickly dropped the half a dozen other books I'd already checked out over the course of the afternoon into my bag, threw the bag over my back, and hurried to the exit with 'Ascending Hurricane' between my teeth.

As I placed the book onto her desk, the receptionist looked up from her own book. She adjusted her glasses, and her lips curled into a benevolent smile, the tips getting lost in the wrinkles of her cheeks. “You're responsible for making me work overtime, Page. You know that, right?”

I tried playing it off with a shrug, but I couldn't help a little smirk of my own. “A few minutes aren't going to kill you, Miss Mercy, are they?”

“This isn't the first time, Page.” She adjusted her glasses again and gave a patronising glare. “It adds up, you know.”

I sighed. “Sorry. Won't happen again.” That's what I'd said last time.

As Miss Mercy's horn lit up, she pulled the tome closer, and a floating quill dashed off a short line on a parchment that hung from the wall behind the desk. She pulled out a drawer to fish out a little blank, dipped a stamp in ink, then pressed the stamp onto the card. Slipping the card under the front cover, she gave the book back.

“Two weeks,” she said, adjusting her glasses. “Like usual.”

“Great. Can I—”

“Yes, you can extend it,” she chortled. “But only once the two weeks are up and you really, really mean it.”

“Thank you.” I dropped the book into my saddlebag and cast a glance toward the increasingly frustrated-looking guards. “Well, I won't keep you. Gotta get home... to my little rat-hole. ”

Miss Mercy's magic gathered around a disorganised stack of papers, shuffling them together. “See you soon, Page.”

“Good bye!”

So I left, with a heavy stack of books in my bag and the judging stares of Royal Guards on my back. Once I was out of the Archives, I slowed down to enjoy the calm night. A warm breeze swept across the street, gently caressing my mane. I decided not to fly home tonight, and the Mare in the Moon walked with me.

I took out 'Ascending Hurricane' from my bag. I'd left off, I remembered, at the part where the young Hurricane got into a dispute with her father, and he threatened to disown her and cast her to the monsters – all those vile earth ponies – down below. I read on as I walked, hobbling on three legs along the curving slopes of Canterlot. The baubles of Mama's bracelet clattered around my hoof at every little hop.

It was getting late, and although Celestia had abolished curfew a few weeks ago, everypony was still accustomed to getting home before nightfall. Save for a few pegasi – armoured or otherwise – whisking by above, there was hardly anypony in sight. A peaceful stroll and several pages later, I reached the southern district of the city: that inhabited by common ponies, construction workers, merchants, and even a few students like me.

Up above, I could see the myriad doors on the crudely carved mountainside, each leading to a different but similarly cramped apartment. Well, I could have seen those doors, had I looked up. But I didn't, and that's how I managed to bump right into somepony as I rounded a corner. As I recoiled, the book got knocked from my hoof.

“So sorry!” I pleaded without even looking up. My eyes were still on the ground, frantically looking for the dropped book.

Then the tome appeared right in front of me – held by another hoof. “It's alright.”

“Oh, thank you.” I took the book, turning it over in my hoof to check its condition. Oh, Miss Mercy's going to kill me if... Luckily enough, the book appeared unharmed. Giving a sigh of relief, I looked up.

A pair of red eyes greeted me. It was a pegasus, a few years younger than me by the looks of it. For a split second, I took him to be a mare; his mane was unusually long for a stallion, well brushed and lush as it flowed down one side of his head to his chin. His coat was white and the mane only a shade darker, the transition all but lost in the dark.

He looked at me and cocked his head slightly to the side, showing a pleasant smile. “Are you alright?”

I dusted myself off. “Yeah, fine. Sorry again.” I stepped around him and hastened my steps, too embarrassed to look back.

“She vows revenge for the mistreatment,” the young stallion said. I turned to him in confusion. “Years later, she bests her father in a duel, but shows mercy.”

Then it hit me. “Commander Hurricane?”

“I'm quite fascinated by history.” He came closer. “As are you, I take it.”

“Yes, well, I actually study history at the university.” I looked him over, then extended a hoof. “New Page, by the way.”

“Wintermist.” When we shook, his hoof felt unreasonably cold. Fitting, I supposed. “Cramming for a test, I'm guessing.”

“Yeah. On that note...” I took a step back, and pointed a hoof up at the mountainside. “I really should get home. Lots to do, and I still need sleep.”

He chuckled lightly. “Sleep? Are you really a university student? Join me for a drink.” He extended an upturned hoof towards the Pristine Pillars: a homely tavern just down the way.

The signboard which displayed a gold coloured image of a pair of pillars swayed softly on its chains blown by the light wind. Through the tavern's windows a warm, yellowish light flooded into the dark street.

“Spare a few minutes for me,” said Wintermist.

Come on, really? “I think you're a little young for me, boyo.”

He kept his hoof up, flaring his eyes once, as if in a dare. Looking him over, I had to admit... he certainly was something. He was more pretty than handsome, really – and the fact that he stood about half a head shorter than me made him all the cuter. Even his voice was soft – not particularly deep – and it carried a strangely alluring cadence. Plus, he did seem to know a thing or two about history; I didn't often get to talk to ponies like that. Not ones who weren't professors, anyway.

I tried to force it down, but my lips curled into a smile. He bared his teeth in a sly grin, knowing he'd won.

“Alright, Winters,” I said, “but you're paying. And I'm calling you Winters.”

The Pristine Pillars was at once grandiose and rustic. The tavern's namesake pillars, engraved with floral vines and elaborate branches, stood worn and scratched from one too many drunks finding themselves thrown against them in brawls. The tables, made from rich woods, fared no better: spilt drinks had long eaten between the cracks where even the most determined rag couldn't get them out.

Something told me this place had been intended for visitors of, let's say, higher calibre clientèle than who actually frequented it. The architects must not have realised that this district would become the one for the city's lower classes – or indeed, perhaps it had slipped their mind that there would ever be a lower class in Canterlot. Even in the city for the noblest and greatest, however, somepony had to scrub the dirt from outhouse walls.

The owner had long since resigned to the fact, though, as evidenced by the run-down look of the place. Bits don't stink, as they say.

The barkeep – a middle-aged stallion who lived right up there in the caves with the rest of us – washed a mug, the washcloth's wet swishes barely audible above the constant chatter and clinking of glass. The Pristine Pillars was open all night, ready to welcome anypony who might wander in – and wander in so many ponies did.

They burped and talked loudly and sang even louder, flinging insults and laughter every which way. More prudish ponies might have thought this place unworthy of themselves, but me, well, I found it surprisingly easy to get swept up in the atmosphere.

“Then he goes...” I banged a hoof on the table, trying to catch my breath between fits of laughter. “And then Storming Falls goes, 'but I thought Hurricane was inside the phalanx!'”

Wintermist put a hoof over his tightly shut eyes and turned slightly to the side. He bit his lips as his chest heaved with barely contained laughter. “Are you sure this guy is a pegasus?” he chortled.

“That's the best part.” I propped myself with two hooves, reeling from the laughter. “He's actually related to Hurricane. By blood, really!”

“No way.”

“Yes way. He took me to see the family, once, he's the real deal.”

“Oh?” He raised a brow. “Do I have competition?”

I shook my head. “Like I said. Once. And you'd have to be in the race to have any competition.”

He put a hoof on his heart. “You're killing me, Page.”

“Maybe next time, Winters.”

“Oh, I'd be all for a next time.”

I pursed my lips. I suppose I walked into that one. Looking to change the subject, my gaze wandered to the bottle of wine between us – still unopened. “You bought that, then you're not even going to drink?”

He reached a hoof across the table and prodded the teacup before me. “As a rule, I don't drink alone, Miss-I-Only-Drink-Tea. I thought you said you wanted to sleep.”

I lifted the cup and took a sip. “This is weak stuff. If I want to crash into slumber tonight, I damn sure will. Never needed much sleep, anyway.”

“Is that so?” He leaned forward, resting his chin on the backs of his hooves. “Then we have another thing in common.”

“I'm flattered by the effort, I really am, but you're trying way too hard.”

“What? It's true.” He chuckled, which slowly turned into a long sigh as he leaned back in his chair. “In all seriousness, I like talking to ponies, be they attractive young ladies or not.”

I pushed my seat out. “Okay, I think that's my cue to leave.”

“I don't think this was time wasted. Do you? Be honest.”

Furrowing my brows, I pulled my chair back to the table. “Let me ask you something first. How often do you do this, just talk to random ponies on the street?”

“More often than you'd think. It's an excellent way to learn. As you might've noticed, I quite like learning.”

“If you like learning,” I replied, “apply to the university. Goodness knows you're already more educated than half that lot.”

“Maybe.” He shrugged. “But I said I like learning, not studying. Different things. Talking to ponies is great. If you have an eye for the right kind of pony, I can only recommend it.” He leaned forward again. “You still haven't answered my question.”

I pursed my lips. “What was the name of Clover the Clever's third son?”

“Trick question. She vowed celibacy after the second.”

Again, I couldn't help a smile. “Not wasted at all.”

“Well then,” he said, offering a hoof again, “if you really want to go, I shan't keep you any longer. I'm glad we had this chance to talk.”

He smiled at me, and I had to smile back. “You know what? So am I.” I shook his cold hoof again. “But don't get any ideas. Say, you live nearby?”

“Oh, I'm not from Canterlot. Just visiting some friends.” He turned toward the nearest window. Outside, between the shadows cast by walls and jagged cliffs, you could just make out the Moon silhouetting an unfinished spire of the Palace. “It's quite amazing, really. I think Celestia's doing the right thing, building this city. Equestria needs hope.”

“How old are you, again? Sixteen, seventeen?”

He rubbed his chin for a moment, then turned to me. “Seventeen sounds about right.”

“You're a really odd sort, anypony ever tell you that?”

He chuckled. “Oh, absolutely everypony.”

I slurped the last drops of tea from my cup, then stood up. “Alright, you crazy pony you. I really should get going.”

He stood up as well. “You go on home then, don't let me hold you. I'll handle payment.”

I turned towards the barkeep. “You hear that? Guy's paying!” Wintermist waved at him, and the barkeep waved back in agreement. “Okay then, Winters. See you around.”

He smiled. “I'm sure we'll bump into each other again.”

A stiff, suffocating mist enveloped me and made me shiver. I could feel my hairs stand on end as tiny droplets condensed on every strand. The moisture ate into my coat and beads of it clung to my skin. My hooves carved the ground: white, rough, and chilling to the touch. Nothing to be seen around me except the desolate, rocky landscape that stretched out into the mist. A dim light poured from above, bouncing and refracting in the misty air.

I walked, slowly at first, through the mist. There seemed no end to these wastes. I quickened my steps, and then I galloped as fast as I could. When I tried to fly, the sky weighed down on me, pushing me back to the ground.

The mist seemed to go on forever.

“Hello?” I called, looking this way and that. “Is there anypony here?”

In the distance, behind the curtain of mist, I heard something. Like a mare's voice, but I could make out no words. She hummed a calming melody, and her voice resonated gently with the earth, tingling my hooves. The air brushed the hairs on the tips of my ears.

“Can you hear me?” I asked, following the sound.

The humming grew more distinct, louder but not obtrusive, until I finally saw the silhouette of a mare materialise beyond the mist. She sat still, back straight and chin high.

“Are you lost?” I asked.

As I approached, I came to realise that the mare was enormous, larger even than me, larger than any pony I'd ever seen. Condensed water softly filmed her armour, collecting in tiny drops on the underside of her chestplate. A helmet crowned her head, a hole cut at her forehead to allow for her horn. She kept her eyes on the ground, and tears of irritation collected under her unblinking, slit pupils.

She hummed on through a content smile, a serene tone to echo across the endless, barren plains. Every breath sent vapour swirling in the mist.

I sat down in front of her, craning my head to look into her eyes. “Are you okay?”

Her eyes turned in their sockets, but her body didn't move. She looked at me and blinked her tears away. She leaned her long, swan-like neck forward just an inch – only to be yanked violently back into place by some unseen force. The sound of chains resonated across the land.

A halo of light lit up around her neck – then the light quickly subsided, burning away like a parchment cast into a fire, and in its place appeared a thick collar of shining metal. The light burned on as though at the end of a candle's wick, whisking swiftly into the air to reveal a rattling chain in its wake. The end of the chain, somewhere up above, quickly got lost in the mist.

Her hooves began to glow. The quickly disappearing light left behind heavy shackles that bound her legs. The mare began to shine, and soon fetters and cuffs covered her entire body. Straps of metal and black leather bound her wings in a corset-like embrace, nails pinned her tail to the ground, and weights pulled on her armour.

Hooks tore into her immortal, bloodless flesh down the back of her neck and her spine, pulling her skin away from bone. Their chains stretched infinitely in every direction.

The last binding to form was a strap around her muzzle, muffling her hums. I had to take a step back to look over the scene, my jaw hanging.

The humming stopped. She drew a sharp breath, and as her chest expanded, I saw her hooks and straps stiffen chokingly around her. The mare blew cold air into my face, as if asking me to pay attention. She turned her eyes upwards.

My gaze followed hers, crawling up the long chain that bound her collar. High above, just before the metal disappeared entirely behind the curtain of mist, I saw a dark spot: one tiny speck of rust on the pristine chain.

Time would triumph. All she had to do was wait and endure patiently; far worse than mere physical suffering, she had to bear the slowly burning agony of hypocrisy and injustice.

Her gaze slowly descended, and so did mine. When our eyes met, her lips parted beneath the strap and she grinned at me with a mouth full of fangs.

The scene dissolved before my eyes. The mare faded into the mist, the ground disappeared under my hooves, and even the mist itself dissipated into nothingness. I awoke with my eyes on the ceiling and 'Ascending Hurricane' lying on my chest.

Another one of those dreams.

Cold air brushed one of my hooves that hung off the bed. I got up with a yawn and a stretch, then stumbled half-asleep towards the window. I bumped into my desk and cursed under my breath as a stack of books fell to the floor in a miniature avalanche. I didn't care to pick them up.

I cranked the window's handle with a frustrated sigh, pulling it open for a second before slamming the damn thing shut. Up in the mountains, it got cold in the mornings, and the window never sealed properly. I took a second to appreciate that I had no classes that morning. No rush for me today.

As I rubbed my eyes, I turned around and carefully stepped over the fallen pile of books. I took a right out of my room and wobbled into the bathroom. Leaning over the tub, I turned the blue crank. The rusty iron tube above spat and sputtered before it finally spewed a cascade of ice-cold water. I stuck my head in, letting it soak my mane completely.

When the cold became too much to bear, I turned the crank back and whipped my head back. With a satisfied shudder, I looked at all the water my mane had splashed across the other wall. I usually let time clean that up. As I dried myself up and brushed my mane, I couldn't help but let my mind wander.

Mama always told me ponies had recurring nightmares. It was normal, she said, and I shouldn't think much of it. It was all in my head, she'd calm me, the bad mare in chains could never hurt me. I was a little worried about the spot of rust on her chain, though; I couldn't remember seeing that before.

It was strange, though. I never felt threatened by the mare in chains. These weren't nightmares, not really. In fact, whenever I saw her in a dream, I felt a sort of longing. In my dreams, I never cared how terrifying she was – or who she was. She felt like a friend long lost, and meeting her again always warmed my heart.

Only after waking up did I realise, time and time again. And then I pondered.

A mere twenty years after her banishment, Princess Luna had already become more the stuff of legend than a figure of history. Those few who had ever seen her only did for a few stolen moments here and there. In the years just before her banishment, she'd supposedly become increasingly secluded from the world.

The only ponies who might have had a deeper understanding of Luna were the Night Guards, and of course Celestia herself – but Celestia never spoke about her sister, and the Night Guards were long gone, banished by the Elements of Harmony along with their mistress.

I couldn't recall when the dreams started. But I think I'd been having them even before I knew about Nightmare Moon, or even the Longest Night at all. That wasn't right, of course. I couldn't have dreamed about her before I knew who she was. I just supposed I must've remembered wrong.

Maybe it was these dreams that had made me so interested in history. That's why I studied as hard as I did, and why I could secure a scholarship in Canterlot University. It's how I had my own apartment in our nation's capital, and enough money to send home to Mama.

In a way, Nightmare Moon shaped my life, though I was born mere weeks before her banishment. I could never shake this strange, sentimental affection to the Mare in the Moon.

But I couldn't spend time reminiscing on dreams. I had a few spare hours that morning, and with Mama coming to visit for the Summer Sun Celebration soon, I had something important to attend to.

Once my mane was properly dry and didn't look like I'd just escaped a thunderstorm, I grabbed a few spare bits and headed out. The streets below the apartments were lined with all manner of shops and stalls. Not far from the Pristine Pillars, there was one particular stall I frequented – not just for business' sake, but also for company.

Mrs Pinegreens was an absolute gem of a mare of utmost kindness, who made bits by selling flowers cultivated in her garden somewhere in the lower parts of Canterlot Mountain. She'd always be up before the Sun itself to pick and carry up the freshest batch each morning. And she lived just next door from me, too. Since I'd always have to pass by her stall on my way to the university, it wasn't long before our casual morning greetings grew into a little friendship. Trust was a rare commodity in Celestia's beautiful Equestria, and we cherished every precious drop.

I didn't like flowers, myself. Made me sneeze something bad. But I knew Mrs Pinegreens' family needed the money, and I had some to spare, so I'd often buy one or two of the shorter-lived ones. This time, however, I'd actually buy something I'd use.

You could always smell the stall around the bend before seeing it. Coming around, I found Mrs Pinegreens tending to her flowers, just hanging a bunch from the top of the stall. “Good morning, Mrs Pinegreens.”

She froze for a moment before turning to me. “Good morning, Page.”

“Bit chilly this morning. How are you feeling today?”

“Bit cold, bit cold.” She turned her gaze towards a vase on the stall, and reached with both hooves to adjust it. I thought it was fine before. “I'm fine,” she muttered. “We're fine. Anything catch your eye today?”

“Well, I'm not looking for something for me, actually.” I shifted my weight to my hind hooves. “I'm visiting Papa.”

It took a second for the realisation to reach her. She cast her gaze down for a second. “Oh, I see. Well, I can... put something together for you.”

“I'd appreciate it,” I said, but she turned away before I finished.

Mrs Pinegreens seemed to avoid my eyes as she prepared a small batch of flowers. She picked one from below the stall, another that hung from above, and a few others from here or there, all without saying a word.

I knew practically every obscure factoid about history a pony was allowed to know – and some we weren't – but this was Pinegreens' territory, not mine. In the world of flowers, I was entirely lost. So for the most part, I trusted her judgement. I did notice a few black ones, though, so that probably meant something.

Still, I worried. Not about the flowers, but about Mrs Pinegreens herself; this morning she wasn't the chipper mare I remembered. Usually, whenever I bought something, she'd tell me all about the several names and meanings of each flower, or how best to arrange them for whatever purpose I desired. Now she prepared the bouquet in complete silence and hasty movements.

“Is everything okay?” I asked.

A flower slipped from her grasp; she didn't think long before kicking it aside and picking out a replacement. I knew her to respect flowers more than that.

“I'm fine,” she said. “Just... a little bit tired.”

I leaned forward, placing a hoof on the stall. “Please, if there's anything I can help with... maybe I need something for my room too?”

She didn't respond. She didn't even look at me, but her hooves started working faster. She quickly wrapped the bouquet with a bright ribbon, tying it all to an evergreen wreath before stuffing it into my hooves.

“Here,” she said. “Fifteen bits and no more, Page.”

I decided it was best not to push the matter. I counted the coins before her so she could see I didn't smuggle in any more than she asked. “Thank you. I'm sure Papa would love this.”

“Yes,” she said, turning again to fiddle with that one vase.

I took a step back. “Well, I'll be going then. Until later, Mrs Pinegreens.”

“Mm-hm,” she mumbled, turning the vase this way and that. It was only after I began walking the other way that I heard her call out. “Page?”

I looked over my shoulder. “Yes, Mrs Pinegreens?”

“Y-you stay out of trouble, okay, sweetie?”

I smirked. “I'm good at avoiding trouble.” And lying, apparently.

I stopped to buy a few tealights on the way to the cemetery. The stallion at the shop lit one of them for me; I'd have to carry it carefully so I could use it to light the rest.

The cemetery spread out across a vast area of the mountain, below and on the other side from the city where the cliffs were less steep and the ground was softer. The grandiose familial tombs of the nobles needed space, after all.

They stood largely vacant for the time being, of course; Canterlot was a new city. Most of the ponies buried here for the time being were victims of construction accidents and the occasional old noble who happened to bite it around these times. Below the entrances to the great tombs lay all the smaller graves for commoners like us, only a few for now.

The lowest level of the Canterlot Cemetery was by far the most populated: it was an area dedicated to those lost in the Longest Night. Cenotaphs told of those who have never been found, and cheap headstones marked the resting sites of unidentified victims.

Below the many graves to which nopony attended were the graves of ponies whose bodies were found and whose names were known. Celestia ordered them to be brought here so that they'd never have to rest in the accursed soil of the Old City.

I didn't visit Papa much. Somewhere inside of me, I always felt I should, but I never had a connection with him. I was far too young when he died to remember him. Silver Spearhead, his headstone read. I only had a rough idea of what he even looked like, from a sketch Mama and Papa had bought from a street vendor early in their relationship.

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't muster any sort of attachment to this dead stallion, though I knew I should have. If it hadn't been for him, Mama and I wouldn't have been alive today.

But to me, that was all just history.

Mama would surely come visit his grave when she arrived. I figured I should at least make it look like I cared. After pulling out a few unruly weeds, I placed the tealights down before the grave. Placing the flame of the one burning light against the wicks of the rest, I lit them all. In a safe distance from the tiny flames, I placed the wreath and bouquet against the gravestone.

I spent a moment looking at the scene. The corners of my lips curled up. “Thank you, Papa,” I whispered, then turned my head to the sky. “And I'm sorry.”

As I eyed the sky, I noticed an older pegasus stallion a few rows up the cemetery. He stood solemnly by a headstone among the ones dedicated to ponies whose bodies were not found or wholly recovered.

When you study history, it's easy to fall into the trap of focusing only on the biggest, quote-unquote 'most important' aspects and events. It pays, I've found, not to forget that history is more than that. History is the little things; it is the little pony and her little tragedies. I wondered what this stallion's story was. Did he also lose a spouse, or a comrade in arms? What did he see?

I was going to leave – take wing and go home to rest for a few minutes before heading off to the Archives. Then I remembered Wintermist's advice. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to talk to strangers every once in a while. If Mrs Pinegreens was any indication, I had a face that the older generation liked. It's worth a shot, I thought.

Unfurling my wings, I flew up the rows as silently as I could. The stallion didn't seem to bat an ear. I alighted softly behind him and peeked over his shoulder at the headstone. There was nothing on it but a name – 'Black Spot' – and a date marking the Longest Night. The grave itself was also plain: no candles or tealights, not a single flower to be found.

The stallion stood still as a statue before it. With his plain grey coat and darker mane, he certainly could've passed as one. The only colour on the entire pony was in his cutie mark: a paintbrush with a touch of red at the tip.

Worst case scenario, I figured, he'll tell me to buzz off. I straightened my back and cleared my throat. “Excuse me, sir.”

One of his ears perked and turned towards me. After a second, it turned forward again.

“My name is New Page,” I continued, waiting a few seconds. No reaction. Well, I already started... “I study history at the university. Forgive me, I do not mean to intrude, but I couldn't help but notice the date on the headstone. I was wondering if... if you'd like to share your story.” That sounded a lot better in my head.

The stallion sat still for a short while. Then, closing his eyes for a moment, he sighed deeply. Finally, he turned his head towards me. Though his body had seemed surprisingly fit for his age, his face was marred by rugged wrinkles that made him look older than his eyes let on. A thick, hairless scar ornamented his right cheek: a sign of a heroic battle, or a bar brawl, perhaps?

As he stared, his sunken, golden eyes held no emotion. He looked me over before finally speaking.

“Leave me alone, lady,” was all he said before turning back to the headstone. His voice was deep and inherently intimidating, though I heard no anger in it.

I nodded, fully knowing he wouldn't see. “I meant no disrespect.” I waited for a response, but received none. “I apologise.” Again, nothing. It would be best to leave quickly, I figured. Spreading my wings and kicking the ground away, I mentally patted myself on the shoulder.

At least I tried.

Magic Mirror on the Wall

Princess Celestia

I have seen but one monster in my life, and her name is Nightmare Moon. It is she who haunts the weak in their loneliest hour. She sews the dreams of the brave into chilling horror. She is the engine of fear and the devourer of hope. The thunder of her hooves grinds dreams into nightmares and her laughter crushes the spirit of even the greatest warrior.

Throughout the Longest Night, Nightmare Moon revelled in the end of her world. For two weeks, I watched and pleaded. For two weeks, I stood idly as my own sister ravaged Equestria. I thought I could convince Luna to return to me.

A thousand years hence, sometimes when the Sun is gone and the Moon is high, I still hear the screams: the echoes of my greatest failure.

Nightmare Moon created many fiends to do her bidding: ponies-turned-fiends by perversions of the soul, and demons that drank the blood of the body and tortured the minds of the innocent. Born of her star-mane, indescribable, amorphous mountains of tangible hate and hunger raked the most distant lands with loathsome mouths and pseudopods. Common folk turned on one another, driven mad either by the Nightmare or the destruction of the world around them.

Nightmare Moon's goal was not merely to kill. She wanted all of us to suffer. She did not merely bring about eternal night; she ushered in an era of fear.

Yet for all the beings to which her magic gave shape, none were as cruel as Luna's oldest and most beloved creations.

When the Nightmare seized the heart of my sister and plunged her into madness, the bitterness in her heart overflowed. The ethereal threads that joined her to the Night Guards conducted her sorrow and hatred, awakening in their minds the same desire to tear down the world. The Nightmare preyed on the darkest, suppressed fancies that reside in all minds, and her foul magicks unleashed them upon the world.

For the Night Guards, notions of perceived injustice came boiling to the surface. Petty grievance intensified into murderous rampage, and long-repressed fantasies of elaborate vengeance over minor offence now came to be played out in all of their sick, twisted glory.

The Nightmare gave no orders. The Nightmare did not force their hooves. She merely laughed as they performed acts that bore no names, all of their own volition.

The Night Guards had protected the heart of Equestria. They were stationed in the Old City and oversaw the nearest settlements and lordships of the nobles houses. While the many demons of Nightmare Moon laid waste to the outer lands, the Night Guards destroyed that which we treasured the most.

First, the Night Guards swarmed into the city; that's where it all started. The Royal Guards who protected the Castle were the first to fall: stabbed in the back or murdered in their sleep.

By the time I realised what was happening, it was already too late. When I flew to the Castle, I was greeted by the head of a Royal Guard impaled upon the tallest flagpole.

By the time an alarm was raised, the Library was in flames.

By the time we began evacuating the city, the bridge had fallen.

We lost the Old City in a matter of minutes. Nightmare Moon laughed, her voice resonating across the land.

For a while, the Night Guards were content with desecrating the Old City. Only in later days of the Longest Night did they spread to the lands outside. When they did, the meagre blockade around the city cracked in hours. Smoke blocked out the stars, and corpses and ash covered the fields.

The nobles vied for whatever protection the Royal Guards could give. They stuffed pitchforks and torches into the hooves of every last serf and servant to protect their skin.

The manor of an old noble held its ground the longest, not by virtue of strength but by being the farthest from the Old City. That night, a very special mare sat in the darkest corner of that manor's smallest bedroom, cradling her newborn and begging the Sun for the nightmare to end.

It was Nightsong that tore up the boards covering a window of the attic. Crescent Strike followed her inside as the rest of their group distracted the Royal Guards. They stomped hard at each of their steps; they wanted those hiding underneath to hear their approach. The added fear sweetened their inevitable demise.

Crescent Strike bucked open the barricaded door of the attic, and the pair made their way down the dusty, cobweb-covered stairwell. On the lower floors, they looked through every hallway, checking door after door in search of cattle to slaughter.

They found a pair of maids in one room, and threw them through the boarded windows to signal to their friends outside. When they got to the room of the old noble's daughter, they saw that another pair of Night Guards had already broken in. As one of them tore her portrait from the wall, the other reared above the crumpled mare, his hooves shining red with her blood. Crescent Strike looked with perverted glee at the daughter's precious, Sun-loving face: deformed beyond recognition by a hail of hooves.

Nightsong sent him a look. They would have to hurry, lest somepony got to their mark before they did. Crescent Strike would have hated to place second in this race. So he pushed on, following the scent of the mare he hated the most.

In a small, untouched bedroom on the second floor, they finally found the source of the stench. When they broke down the door, however, they were greeted by a lone stallion with a white coat under a suit of golden armour. He spread his wings and flourished his spear.

“Stand away, monsters!” he warned. “I don't care what you do to the others. But if you dare set hoof in here—” He tensed, jamming his spear forward. “—I'll hack you from your groin to your neck.”

Crescent Strike turned to Nightsong with a smile. She smiled back, and took the first step inside. “Put that down,” she said. “That's no toy, boy. You could hurt yourself. You're not even holding it right.”

The stallion took a step back and stabbed into the air. The spear shook in his grasp. “Get away!”

Crescent Strike walked inside, and took a step further than Nightsong. “You're not supposed to harm Princess Luna, Royal. Celestia's orders, haven't you heard?”

Nightsong walked forward, overtaking Crescent Strike and backing the Royal Guard into the wall. “Hurting us is hurting Luna, you know. We're one and the same, she and we.”

The stallion swallowed, forcing a brave expression and trying to hold the spear steady. “Not another step. I'm warning you.”

Crescent Strike took another step. “Or wha—”

The Royal Guard lunged forward with the roar of a cornered beast, thrusting his spear at Crescent Strike. He dodged, but not soon enough: the spearhead entered his mouth and pierced a hole through his right cheek. As he reared back with a terrible shriek, he brought up his bat wing to snap the spear in half – leaving the guard with only the broken handle.

Nightsong charged the stallion, and he raised the handle to block her. Nightsong rammed at him full force into the wall.

The stallion resisted in vain. His feeble pegasus strength proved no match for the Night Guard. She grunted as she pummelled him to the floor, stomping and trampling the helpless stallion. His bones snapped and broke under the pressure as though they were nothing more than rotten old wood.

Crescent Strike pulled the spearhead from his cheek with a spurt of blood. He spat and gurgled, lumbering over to Nightsong to push her off the stallion. He reared and slammed his hooves onto the Royal Guard's neck and listened for the satisfying crunch of his throat. To finish the job, he picked up the spearhead. With one swift strike he planted it in the guard's mouth and drove it through the tissue, pinning the thrashing stallion to the floor by the back of his head.

He wiped his cheek and licked the blood from his hoof. The laughter of Nightmare Moon resounded in his mind to congratulate him. He sat onto his defeated foe and straightened his back. Puffing his chest, he closed his eyes and breathed in; the torn flaps of the skin of his cheek smouldered as his hot blood welded the flesh back together.

The laughter in his ears slowly faded, and he tuned out the dying whimpers and sputters of the Royal Guard.

His ears rotated.

At the back of the room stood a tall wardrobe. Inside, a mare whispered, barely audible even to herself. “Please,” she begged, “don't cry now. Hush now, quiet now... it's alright... please, not now...”

As Crescent Strike's eyes opened, his lips parted into a grin. Nightsong sensed his satisfaction – she'd heard too. She walked silently, with the poise of a cat, to the wardrobe and placed a hoof on the handle.

She tore the door from its hinges, throwing it across the room. The mare facing her clutched her baby and screamed in terror.

Crescent Strike walked over. “Hello, Veiled Quill.” He winked. “Still love that bracelet, by the way.”

With eyes shifting between the Night Guards and the brutalised corpse of her husband, Veiled Quill crawled away and pressed against the back of the wardrobe as though she meant to seep through the very wall. She shook her head violently, pleading, screaming. “No! Please, no, I'm sorry!” In her lap, the baby began to cry.

Nightsong leaned closer. “What is that sweet filly's name?”

Veiled Quill tried to shrink away, but there was nowhere to hide. “Don't hurt her, I beg you. You want me, not her!”

Crescent Strike lunged forth, putting his front hooves inside the wardrobe and pressing his forehead against Veiled Quill's. “She asked you a question, you tactless wench.”

“New Page!” she wailed. “Her name is New Page. She's never done you any harm. Please, leave her.”

He reached for the baby, but Veiled Quill bit his leg. He groaned and slammed the hoof into the mare's nose; the wardrobe's wall gave her the next blow. Before the mare came to, he tore the baby from her grasp. As Veiled Quill jumped at him, Nightsong tackled her to the floor.

“She's innocent!” Veiled Quill cried, reaching a hoof in vain towards Crescent Strike.

He scoffed. “Aren't they all?” He began making his way to the boarded window. “All night, that's what everypony's saying. They're always innocent. They've always loved us. The only thing they love more than us is Princess Luna and her beautiful starry nights. Funny how that works.”

Cradling the baby with a wing, he reared on his front legs and crushed the boards on the window with a single kick of his hind hooves.

“What are you doing?” Veiled Quill wailed. She tried to move, but Nightsong put her down with a swift hoof to her stomach. “Please, oh stars, please don't!”

“Let's see how this little pegasus flies,” Crescent Strike said.

“Please!” Veiled Quill screamed, her face screwing up with desperation and terror. “I'll do anything!”

Crescent Strike looked her over, savouring – almost enjoying – the sheer disgust he felt for Veiled Quill's revolting visage: the drool on her lips from her screams and her runny nose from all the crying. He had to laugh. “You don't seem to understand where you are.”

On cue, Nightsong sent another hoof into her face, silencing her wails. She sniffled back the blood that dripped from her nose. Nightmare Moon laughed in Crescent Strike's ear and her hoof stroked his mane.

“Make sure she's looking, Nightsong,” called Crescent Strike.

He took one last look at the baby and gave her a peck on the forehead. For just a moment, either out of fear or confusion, the child stopped crying.

“Good bye, little New Page.”

He cast the baby out the window and followed her arc with his eyes. Veiled Quill extended a hoof towards the window – and screamed for the last time in her life.

The baby hit the earth – and oh, the sweet crunch of her tiny body crumpling and snapping at the collision! Inside Crescent Strike's head, the thunder of Nightmare Moon's cackling drowned out the world.

Veiled Quill's scream died, and she stared. She stared, her mouth still open but breath seeping only in a silent whimper.

She stopped struggling. She almost forgot to breathe. Her hoof went limp.

Nightsong stomped on her groin. Veiled Quill barely made a sound, and didn't even look at her. Her eyes were set still on the window.

“I think we're done,” Nightsong said with a satisfied smile, stepping off her.

Crescent Strike looked at Veiled Quill, and she looked at him. For him, he would never forget the face of the mare from whom he had taken everything. For her, the depraved glee in the monster's eyes would forever be etched into her mind.

There was one more thing he could do, Crescent Strike realised. One more thing to absolutely break the mare. He grinned in anticipation, and licked blood and drool from his lips.

“You go ahead,” he said, biting onto the scruff of Veiled Quill's neck. He pulled the mare to her hooves, though she could barely stand. Her weakness excited him; he could feel the heat rising below.

Nightsong took one look at him – and giggled cheekily. As she left, she left the door open so that the others might watch. Crescent Strike threw the limp mare onto the bed. She did not resist.

And so it began: the crowning act to the Nightmare's theatre of horrors.

The Longest Night came to an end in three days' time. A search party found Veiled Quill curled up under the same bed, discarded like a wet tissue and clutching a bauble bracelet in her hoof. She was conscious but catatonic: a broken, gibbering husk of a mare.

Swift Sweep

Without an assigned scribe, I was forced to crudely carve every letter by mouth and hoof. I wasn't good at that, writing. It took a few minutes for all the characters to come back to me. I jotted down the current date at the top of the page, and began surveillance for the first night of Project Bookworm.

Our orders were to watch New Page's apartment and find out why she was stealing books from the Archives – whether she worked alone for her own amusement, or perhaps if she was part of a greater, clandestine operation. She spent most of the day out of the apartment, at the University or the Archives where Lullaby and I couldn't reliably follow her. We had more than enough eyes in both places, however, so we didn't have to – and evidently, the Princess wanted this job done with as few ponies as possible.

The day shift consisted mostly of watching over an empty apartment and reporting the nothing that happened. As such, Lullaby had been kind enough to volunteer me for the night shift. Not that it was much more exciting: New Page reportedly came home rather late every day, and there had been few reports of her ever leaving the apartment at night time.

Then again, it took a while for the Archives to notice the missing books, and even when they were expecting the thief they failed to catch New Page. There was more to this young mare than she let on; I couldn't allow my attention to waver.

Following my... episode back in the apartment, Lullaby and I made an agreement not to mention it. I only needed some air and a moment to collect myself – and then I was ready to work as I'd ever been.

Well, that was not true. I knew it, and Lullaby knew it; ever the good friend, however, she did not bring it up. Yet I could not shake the feeling that Lullaby was testing me. I'd have to make it through my shift without another breakdown.

The rules were simple: keep the candles low and your eyes sharp. Strictly surveillance only; if anything happened, we'd report it to Celestia. I supposed this was the only thing she dared trust us with after Project Heartbreak.

Although the unfurnished apartment above New Page's provided a reasonably good vista of the city by day, by night darkness blanketed most streets. In the distance, the Palace and the Archives were lit up by lights both magical and conventional, and the most travelled streets were lined by the occasional gas lamps. For the longest time, I saw no sign of New Page.

One thing concerned me – or one pony, to be more precise. I could not tell if it was a stallion or a mare, though from its small stature and long mane I guessed female, and quite young at that. She sat motionlessly at the door of a closed shop, just around the bend of the street, her white coat and mane practically glowing in the light of the lantern above the door.

There was no curfew at the time, so there was nothing outright wrong about somepony sitting there in the middle of the night, yet I couldn't help but wonder. What was she doing? Or rather, why wasn't she doing anything? If I hadn't known better, I might have taken her for a statue. I wondered if I should write anything down, but ended up not doing so. It wasn't my job, not now.

It was about ten, maybe fifteen minutes after the Archives closed for the night that I first noticed New Page from the window. Her gaze was buried inside a book she held, hobbling forward on three legs on her way up the cliffs.

A second before she came around the corner, the white mare stood up and took one step forward. In the next moment, New Page bumped straight into her, recoiling and dropping her book. The mare picked it up, New Page quickly took it back, and hurried on with her head low and ears drooped. I could see the embarrassment from all the way up here.

The mare said something to make New Page pause. She turned back, and the two exchanged a few words. Whoever the other mare was, New Page didn't seem to recognise her, neither was she took keen on whatever she said. She stepped away, only for the other mare to point a hoof towards the nearby tavern. New Page took a reluctant step towards the mare, and nodded after a moment of deliberation, brushing her mane back.

How strange. Although New Page was reportedly friendly, she wasn't known for actively participating in meaningless social rituals, not unless pressed. Always in a hurry, that girl.

As New Page and the other mare walked for the tavern, I began writing. I didn't get the impression that she recognised the white mare, but the other one definitely recognised her. Sat alone in the middle of the night, moved exactly when New Page came along to bump into her – she had to have been expecting her. I could have learned far more, of course – had Celestia in her wisdom not forbade me from leaving my post. Oh well. I guess I'll just stay up here...

The two spent half an hour, maybe a while longer, in the tavern before New Page emerged alone. She walked more slowly now, awestruck perhaps – or intoxicated – and carried her book by its spine between her teeth. She stopped halfway up the cliff, looking at the sky – the Moon, perhaps – before finally entering her apartment. As she walked through the door, I moved my chair from the window to the enchanted mirror.

She threw off her bag and collapsed into bed, spitting the book out. For a while she lay still and breathed heavy, tired sighs. Eventually, she raised her head and dragged herself out of bed, practically oozing off the side before standing up properly. She fumbled through the dark room towards her desk – stubbing her hoof at the edge and cursing a little – and rummaged around in a drawer before pulling out a tinderbox.

She laid out the kit onto her desk: flint and steel, a charcloth, and a bundle of sulphur sticks. Snapping the flint against the steel, it took her a few clumsy hits to produce a spark great enough to ignite the slow-burning cloth. After a few minutes of trial and error, she'd managed to get a few embers going, and she blew on them to get them hot enough for use with a sulphur stick. She put the tip of a stick against the cloth to light it.

Once it caught, she quickly brought it over to a candlestick hoisted above her bed. With the candle lit, she shook the sulphur stick to extinguish its flame, then stomped on the charcloth a few times to extinguish that too. She didn't bother with putting the kit back together.

Throwing herself into the bed again, she picked up the book she'd been reading all the way home. She flipped onto her back and wiggled about, finally releasing a satisfied sigh with the book standing on her chest, the light of the candle falling on it at just the right angle.

This was the first time I saw her – when I really saw her. The spectral projection I'd seen at the Archives stayed true to basic shape and silhouette, but distorted colour and eschewed fine details. From the files we'd collected, I already knew about New Page, though I did not know her.

Now in the dim candlelight, I had an opportunity to take a close look at this enigma of a mare. The memories of the Longest Night would haunt me until the day I expired; I could never forget the atrocities I'd committed, and I might never wash the blood from my hooves. Her blood.

She'd changed. I remembered her coat in a different, brighter colour, and on her neck there used to be a little dark spot. And she'd grown so much – when I took her into my hooves on that fateful night, I could barely feel the weight.

She was a dark brown all over, no spots to be seen. Her dark grey mane was as thick and luscious as I'd seen in the Archives, but oddly crude, almost wire-like in texture.

Her cutie mark: a half-filled parchment before a waxing Moon.

Hello again, New Page. How have you been?

I kept a small, circular metal plate on the desk beside me. In the middle of it was a red gem encircled by an etching of the Sun; tapping the centre lightly, the plate flashed and quickly began heating up. Beside the plate stood a kettle and a cup. I didn't bring tea; Lullaby had suggested I try this new 'coffee' they'd recently began importing. I poured a cupful and left it to warm up on the sunplate.

Around the time that the cup became comfortably hot, the book slipped from New Page's hooves. Her head fell to the side, mouth open and chest expanding with slow, sleeping breaths. One of her hind hooves twitched and clopped against the wall. She didn't wake.

Like a big baby.

I took a sip of coffee – and nearly dropped the cup as the astounding bitterness flooded my mouth. It burned my throat and stung my nostrils; I could barely put the cup down without shattering it. Come to think of it, Lullaby mentioned I should buy sugar. As the taste slowly faded, I wiped the tears from my eyes.

New Page was still asleep. I prided myself on being able to read other ponies. To me, she seemed innocent.

I knew for a fact this was untrue; I'd seen the recording of her breaking into the Lunar Wing, and I'd found the very book she stole in her apartment. My history with her had to be clouding my judgement. But no matter how long I looked, I couldn't imagine her harming a soul. If it was knowledge alone she desired, I'd have felt deeply sorry to lock her away.

A cold rush of realisation ran down my spine. I should not have felt sorry for an enemy of Celestia. And before, I never had.

Lullaby came to take over just before the crack of dawn. Having lost a wing, she couldn't fly; I took shameful pleasure in watching her walk all the way up the steep slopes. Must have been my old insecurities regarding her acting up.

“So,” she began as I let her in, “how was the night?”

“About as eventful as you'd think.”

She put her saddlebag into the corner, then walked for the mirror and took a long look at New Page. She turned towards the desk to pick up the night's report. “And the coffee?” she asked as she read, pacing the other way.

I shrugged. “I can't see it catching on.”

“Uh-huh.” She waved the report. “What do you make of this white mare?”

“An employer, or at least potential one, if I had to guess. I wonder if she'll show up again.” Sighing, I went for the door, cracking my joints with every slow step. “All I know for sure is that I've got a nasty cramp in my neck from looking in that mirror all night.”

“Oh?” Lullaby lowered the scroll, batting her eyebrows at me. “Like what you see?”

I yanked the door open. “No.”

“Why the hurry?” she chortled. “Come on, she isn't that ugly.”

It took all my willpower to gently close the door instead of slamming it. I turned back towards Lullaby. “You know who New Page is.”

“'Course I do.”

“You watched me.”

I stepped forward with a stomp. In the mirror, New Page's leg twitched and clopped against the wall again. One of her front hooves slipped and fell beside the bed with another clop. Her eyes remained closed.

I continued towards Lullaby, now with silent steps but no less frustration. “You helped me. And you treat it like a joke.”

She pushed a hoof against my chest, keeping distance. “Easy there, small boy.”

I slapped her hoof away. “Don't.” I fought to contain the tremors of anger rising inside me. “You're as guilty as I am, don't act like you're innocent. None of us are innocent.”

I took a step back, looking around the empty apartment. “What are we doing here, Lullaby? Celestia gave us this chance to atone for our crimes. I'm here so I can make up for what I did.” I stuck a hoof towards the mirror. “What I did to her.”

Lullaby scoffed. “We make up for our crimes against Equestria by doing what Celestia wishes. What you feel – what I feel – is not relevant. I'm sorry, but that's the truth. We've had this conversation before.”

I stepped to the mirror. “Look at her. I don't know how she's alive. But I've already destroyed her once, and...” I choked on that last word. I shook with anger, not at Lullaby but at myself. I wasn't supposed to be like this. Icy blood and an iron will – that's what I'd always had. I've never felt like this, I wasn't supposed to feel like this, I never thought I'd ever—

Pain struck my lower jaw as my teeth crunched. I stopped grinding them.

I hung my head. “I've ended her life once. I'm supposed to do it again.”

I felt a hoof grab my shoulder, giving it a firm grasp and a shake. “She chose her path. It's not your fault.”

I turned to her. “Isn't it? If she survived when I...” I swallowed. “If she survived that fall, I don't know what happened to her. It's no wonder she'd turn out wrong.”

“Look.” She retracted her hoof. “We don't know why she's doing what she's doing. It might be nothing serious.”

“Please, you've seen the list of missing books. Tomes on Night Guards, vampires, madness, soul magic, blood magic... what do you reckon a history student – a pegasus, no less – does with such material? She's working for somepony, it's obvious. Or she's a freelancer, selling to the highest bidder.”

“So you agree she deserves whatever she gets.”

“She does.” I looked for reassurance in Lullaby's eyes. “She really does. But...” I turned back to New Page, at her peaceful, dreaming half-smile and twitchy leg. “Look at her. I know she's guilty. She has to be. But I can't believe it.” Again, I turned to Lullaby. This time, I paused for a breath before speaking. “I'm slipping, big girl.”

“I could have you be reassigned.”

That made me tense up.

“No, calm down,” Lullaby quickly added. “That is an offer, not a threat. For you own good, only if you want it. Clearly this project is hitting you hard. ” She extended her hoof and wrapped a leg around my shoulder, pulling me in. “I understand, I really do. I joke to cope.”

I turned the thought over in my head. Yes, reassignment would be for the best. Assuming Lullaby got to choose where, anyway. It would have been much easier to get away from New Page – away from the one pony that has ever made me question my conviction to Celestia's service.

To question my role in the EBSS was to question Celestia herself. To question Celestia was to doubt Equestria, and to doubt Equestria was to harm us all. I knew that.

“Look at me, small boy. Look at me.” She grabbed one of my hooves and clutched hers tightly around it. I had to look in her eyes – and as I did, I squeezed right back. “I know how much our job means to you,” she said. “That's why I agreed not to bring this up in the first place. But as the leader of this project, I can't allow your conscience to jeopardise it.”

She let go and stayed quiet for a moment, eyes staring into me. Her hoof moved to brush my cheek. Lullaby had never been the touchy-feely type; she quickly put her hoof down. I could still feel the warmth of her touch on my face.

“More importantly,” she said, “I don't want you to be hurt.”

“You really want me to give this up.”

“Because I care about you, you buffoon.” She snorted, a crooked grin creeping up her face. She shook her head. “Since Silhouette died, you've been my little baby boy.”

To question Celestia was to doubt Equestria, and to doubt Equestria was to harm us all.

I found myself grinding my teeth again, and my hooves dug nervously into the stone floor. Indoctrination, all of it. It had not been Celestia's doing; we old dogs did it ourselves. It was the only way to cope. Icy blood and an iron will with which to focus on the task at hand.

We never strayed from the course, for all other paths were far too perilous; we never looked back for the past was far too horrifying. Never look back at the past, lest you spoil Equestria's future. It was easy, wearing the workhorse's blinders.

Just let this project go, I told myself. Continue serving Equestria. Simple. Clean.

The coward's way out.

“So, what do you say?” asked Lullaby.

“No.” I straightened my back and breathed in deep, exhaling a sigh of relief. “I'm staying.” Better face my past than let it control me.

Lullaby turned to the mirror. “Are you sure you're up to this?”

I wanted so badly to do the right thing. “If she's guilty, I need to be the one to prove it.” For Equestria.

“If?”

I glanced at New Page. “Is there anypony we couldn't prove guilty, really? You, me – even the majestic flanks of Celestia can become the enemies of Equestria if we want them to.”

Lullaby cast me a suspicious glance. “Are you implying Celestia would send an innocent into the dungeons? Have we ever done that?”

As I shook my head, I couldn't suppress a smile. “Of course we haven't.” I walked for the door. “See, this is exactly why I can't be reassigned. If – when – we prove New Page guilty, I need to be the one to do it. This way I can make sure.”

She raised a brow. “Sure that we don't destroy the lives of innocent ponies?”

“We pride ourselves on catching monsters, big girl.” I put a hoof on the doorknob. “I merely want to make sure we've stopped being monsters ourselves.”

When I was a Night Guard, I'd regularly spend a week or more without a wink of sleep. After Celestia purged Luna's magic from our bodies, that became an impossible task. Even a single night spent awake severely impacted my capabilities. My age didn't help either. But I didn't go to sleep – not yet.

I took a quick detour to the Archives. From the royal clerks there, I asked to find all records regarding New Page. Her birth, her death, her life that had apparently been unimpacted by the Longest Night. I wanted everything, down to the tiniest morsel of information.

Because she had been born before the EBSS was established and because it took near-on a decade for the organisation to reach peak strength, reports of her early life were far more scarce than information of later years.

Apparently, the body of a baby filly fitting my recollection of New Page was found after the Longest Night, although her identity had never been confirmed. And while her mother Veiled Quill had been found alive, she never came forth to report the death of her ostensible only child.

As far as the records showed, New Page had never died at all.

That was all they could give me on a preliminary look, but they assured me they'd conduct a more thorough investigation. When the EBSS asked for information, a servant of Celestia would descend into the very depths of Tartarus to scrounge the smallest scraps rather than return empty-hoofed.

Stepping out of the Archives, I took a deep breath of the mountain air, still cool from the night. I wondered where I was needed next. I had to realise I wasn't needed anywhere. That was a cold shower in itself, and as it washed over me, it left behind a feeling of emptiness I hadn't felt since I was but a useless delinquent so many decades ago.

Pestering the clerks at the Archives wouldn't make them work faster. As for New Page, I could not follow her into the University, nor was I supposed to. Lullaby was on shift watching the apartment all day. I'd been given no other task, no project to work on, no investigation to continue, no elusive criminal to track down.

I simply wasn't needed. The one stallion standing still among all the ponies rushing by.

So this was Celestia's insult – the punishment for 'my' failure at the mansion. I couldn't even be angry at her. I had to remain thankful for her not putting me on White Wolf.

I believed in Celestia. I really did. But sometimes... sometimes I hated her, and I hated her brave new Equestria. Perhaps the Nightmare never completely left me after all.

Impotent, undirected anger frothed inside me – until it broke free and I slammed a hoof at the pavement. Pain whipped my bones, and I felt a piece of my hoof chip off. I kicked it away and gave a hiss of pain. Nopony even looked my way.

In the end, I decided to pay an old friend a visit.

I didn't like visiting Silhouette. Even in his death I felt like I was wasting his time.

Although he came into my life late – by stomping right into it, and indeed, almost into my skull – over the few years I got to spend under his guidance, he had become like a father to me. What a disgrace it was that his headstone didn't even bear his real name.

I placed a hoof onto the name of Black Spot. While the rest of Equestria thought the Night Guards were banished along with Nightmare Moon, we old dogs knew the truth. I'm not going to forget you, Silhouette. I let my hoof slide down, leaving a scratch. “I'm sorry.”

He had changed my life that night; saved it, even. I wished he'd have come talk to me before deciding to end his own. I could've repaid the favour. I should've seen it in his eyes. I shouldn't have let him walk away. Why did I have to find River and not him?

I never learned what he did during the Longest Night, but perhaps that was for the best. Not like it mattered now. Did it ever?

A shadow above. A pegasus flew by – New Page. I turned the other way and set my gaze on the ground by reflex. It took my mind a moment to process there was no way she could have recognised me.

She seemed to be carrying something. A flower-adorned wreath, and perhaps more things in her bag. She settled a few rows underneath me. I adjusted myself to keep an eye on her without being obvious. I could still do that, though I wasn't as good as I had once been. Not without a magic mirror to help me.

New Page cleaned the grave, tearing weeds and even stuffing some in her mouth to chew. It looked like she was in a hurry, or just wanted to be done as quickly as possible. Once the soil was clear, she lit a few tealights and put up the wreath by the headstone. After a moment of contemplation, she turned her eyes to the sky. I cast my own gaze down.

Though I wasn't looking, I heard the minute vibrations of the wind as she spread her wings and flew closer. She must have thought she was being subtle. Did I give myself away? She landed, and I pretended I didn't notice. Even with my back turned I could feel her staring.

She cleared her throat. Don't you dare talk to me.

“Excuse me, sir.”

One of my ears perked, twisting in the direction of her voice. I didn't catch it in time. I tried to bring it back forward, slowly now, to make it seem I didn't care.

A lump collected in my throat, one I couldn't swallow. I never got like this. I breathed in deep to control my nerves. Silhouette's simple headstone grew more and more interesting and intricate every passing second – or that's what I told myself. It felt better to focus on its little cracks, that patch of moss in a mouldering corner, the fly rubbing its legs as it crept across Black Spot's name.

“My name is New Page.”

Her voice cut into my back like a knife, and every word was another twist on the blade. My hooves dug deeper into the dusty earth, stiff with barely contained tremors.

“I study history at the university.”

I know. Go away.

“Forgive me, I do not mean to intrude...”

You are. Go away.

“But I couldn't help but notice the date on this headstone.”

I ground my teeth again. Shut up, the words echoed in my mind. Shut up, shut up, shut up. I promised myself that I'd do this. I was not a coward. Yet I couldn't bear her presence, not like this. Without the mirror, without the veil of secrecy and lies, without the protection of the EBSS – I was just a wizened old stallion standing in a cemetery.

“I was wondering if... if you'd like to share your story.”

My story.

The memories washed over me, locking me in their suffocating embrace.

I heard your mother scream as you died, New Page. Smoke billowed high into the dark sky, the bodies littered the ground, and pillars of flame danced in between.

I could feel my mind slip, as it always did, slip back into the bottomless void, the endless sea of regret, the unforgiving visions of blood and ruptured flesh and desecrated bodies, and the laughter, oh, the cackling—

No.

I shut my eyes tight, blocking it out. Not now. A deep breath. Breathe out. Open your eyes.

I turned my head, finally, to look New Page in the eye, face to face for the first time in a long time. I fought the urge to turn and run.

She shrunk away at my stare. Am I that frightening? She scared me far more than I did her.

“Leave me alone, lady,” I forced from my throat before turning forward. That was enough of that.

She replied after a brief pause. “I meant no disrespect.” Another pause. “I apologise.”

Her wings unfurled again, and she took off within the second; a little filly running from the bad stallion. I watched her ascend. She didn't look back. When she disappeared in the sprawls of the city above, all the tension inside me snapped free.

I drove a hoof into the soil of Silhouette's grave, then another, then I pulled both up and stomped down again, and again and again, pummelling, digging, trampling, breathing in the swelling dust through clenched teeth and muffled screams.

Eventually, when my hooves throbbed with pain and muscles gave out in exhaustion, I let my legs go limp. I fell to the beaten soil, lying on the grave of the stallion who had saved me so long ago. I sneezed on the dust. My breaths gradually slowed.

I looked up at the city again, and the late morning Sun scorched my eyes.

What are you doing to me?

A World of Lies, part 1

Princess Celestia

The Elements of Harmony channelled my desperation, and the Sun rose with my fury to burn away the darkness.

The nightmare was over.

It had been I who had held back the army. I had ordered the Royal Guard to stand down. I had let the Nightmare ravage Equestria – all in the hope that I might convince my sister to return to me. A foolish notion. I can see that now.

The surviving senators cried to end the age of alicorns and reinstate the old order. My little ponies turned on me, painting me as the murderer of their children. And I believed them. Without Luna to guide me, I plunged into self-hatred and despair. It was my fault, all of it. I could not wash the blood from my hooves.

The nobles argued. The ponies rioted. They broke through the exhausted Royal Guard, into the Old Castle, torches in their hooves and the names of the dead on their tongues. They forced me to flee, and as I flew across the heavens, I saw my beautiful Equestria tearing itself apart.

Something broke inside of me.

Because I knew better. Because I was meant to rule all the land. The fact that I persevered where my own sister had failed was proof enough. I refused to let the squabbling of nobles and the shrieking tantrums of spiteful children destroy my beautiful Equestria. As the chosen Tyrant, their lives were rightfully mine to control as I saw fit. Yet I could not rule without a loyal force – and the Royal Guard would not be enough.

Before the Longest Night, few ponies matched the Night Guards in their loyalty and devotion. When they awoke from the nightmare with equine flesh between their teeth, none matched them in guilt.

Yet more terrifying than the pain of guilt was the silence. Without Luna to serve as a conduit between their souls, they could no longer sense one another. Their souls shivered alone in the cold – alone with the absence of Princess Luna and alone with the memories of the Longest Night.

Each one cried out for redemption. I offered them atonement.

I had the Old Castle and Courtyard emptied – by any means necessary. I called all the Night Guards to see me. I presented a simple offer: to pay for their crimes with servitude to my rule, or be banished from Equestria forever under threat of death. I allowed them a night to decide.

Of the four hundred and twenty-four Night Guards who served under Princess Luna before the Longest Night, three hundred and fifty-six survived that fateful night. Of the three hundred and eleven still capable of labour, two hundred and ninety accepted my offer. Silhouette became the first of thirty-two to attempt suicide, and the third of twenty-one to succeed.

Every Night Guard had held a fragment of Luna's soul. I purged them with magic of my own. Each individual piece of Luna begged for mercy, each screamed in vain. They all burned with the cleansing fire of the Sun, forced from their bodies to join Luna inside the Moon. With every screaming Night Guard that I saved, it felt as though I murdered another piece of my sister. By the time I was done with them all, I no longer cared.

As Luna's soul left them, their bodies receded to their original forms: simple ponies like any other. The Night Guard was so abolished, and the Equestrian Bureau for State Security rose in its place. Its solitary purpose: to stamp out all those who would stand against my rule. From the dirtiest worker in the field to the oldest members of the Senate, none were safe. A year in the Crystal Mines would break any spirit. Ten, any spine.

The Night Guards were gone. Nopony had seen them since the Longest Night – they hadn't because I willed it so. The EBSS quickly dealt with any who dared spread lies about sighting them even after the Breaking of Dawn.

Those who dared oppose me opposed Equestria itself, for I was Equestria: its rising Sun and watchful Moon, its peace and harmony, the dawn of a new day atop the ashes.

In a century, I'd abolish the Senate entirely. In another, there would be nopony to remember the time when I was not the sole ruler of the land. In a millennium, my little ponies would not have it any other way.

It always amazed me, how quickly the common pony adapts; afraid at first, but never for long. In a matter of years, most learned to be content – even happy – with how things were. After all, things could not have been any other way. Just as long as you worked diligently to rebuild our broken Equestria, Equestria promised to be paradise again. In time, I managed to convince even myself.

No, ponies were not afraid. I did not allow fear, for to fear was to doubt, and to doubt was to harm Equestria.

What I had created was not a world of fear. I had made a world of lies.

New Page

It was a few days since I had talked to the strange stallion at the cemetery. There was nothing to him, and I didn't manage to coerce anything out of him – unlike Winters, who had been all but open. Even so, as I spent yet another night in the company of a book and a candle, I couldn't get myself to care for Winters. The more I thought about it, the hollower his words rang in my memory. What did I see in that guy? I could barely remember his face. Back in the tavern, though, he seemed captivating.

Instead my mind wandered, incessantly and insistently, back to the old pegasus by the headstone. Funny how that worked.

I turned onto my belly, throwing 'Memoirs in the Night' onto my pillow as my bed creaked underneath me. This one was an interesting piece: its author Silhouette had apparently been a Night Guard, and the book was a short collection of memories from his time spent serving Luna. Though he went out of his way to never refer to 'common ponies' by their real names, he gladly included those of his comrades.

Short as each section was, I found myself taking a certain liking to the Night Guards. Silhouette didn't see his own kind as the monsters oft talked about by other ponies. They were more like a ragtag bunch of misfits, forged in service, their imperfections hammered away by Luna's guidance.

I couldn't help but sympathise with Dusken Caverns' quest to escape a haughty noble's wrath; I pumped my hoof in excitement when Crimson Cascade caught the Thief of Second Street; I felt for Crescent Strike when a self-important mare besmirched their order.

There was no sign of the bloodthirsty madness that would overcome them in the Longest Night. Silhouette's apparent skill as an author alone indicated that the Night Guards were far more than anypony gave them credit for. No surprise, I suppose, given their backgrounds. They all had something to prove.

No wonder why Celestia wanted this buried. I could easily see why a book that has you see the equine face of the Night Guards would be considered dangerous. They were scapegoats, the lot of them: Celestia marked them as monsters and directed our hate towards them – and had us praise her for banishing them into the Moon. All the less time spent tarnishing the name of her sister.

The apartment's door rattled, sending metallic clangs across every room. I didn't pay attention to it; it did that, especially on windy nights. But then it rattled again, and I heard the handle clack and turn. I got up as quietly as I could, stepping onto the carpet to make less noise, all the while doing my best to avoid the discarded scraps of paper and scrolls. From above my bed, I took the candle holder off its hoist.

I was afraid to peek around the door. Could it have been a burglar – or worse, the EBSS? I felt like if it was the latter, the best thing would be to turn tail and fly out the window.

“Page?” asked a familiar voice. “It's me.”

“Flora?” I let out a frustrated sigh around the candle holder, turning out of my room. “You nearly gave me a heart attack, you—” I recoiled with a yelp, almost dropping the candle; at the door stood a mare I didn't recognise, a cloak over her back and a hood covering her eyes.

She threw her hood back, closing the door with a hind leg. “It's fine, it's fine.”

Her horn glowed red, and a tuft of magic yanked the candle holder from my mouth, bringing it close to her face. Her coat was dark blue, and an unkempt white mane draped over her eyes. I recognised Flora Dawn's ornate amulet around her neck.

She smiled. “I dyed myself.”

“Wow.” I looked her up and down. “Got bored of pink?”

“Light red. And yes.”

“Should I be concerned?”

“No, not at all.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “Alright, maybe. Well, it depends. Something's come up.”

“You want me to help.”

“I do.”

“And this can't possibly wait.”

“It can't.”

I rolled my eyes, turning back into my room. “Alright, I'm listening.”

Flora followed with light steps. “You said you don't want to go back to the Archives.”

I hopped onto my bed, leaning my back against the wall. “Yeah, no.”

“We respect that.” She sat down next to me. “But we just found out about... about something that, it seems only you can help us with. We need you, and we need you quickly.”

“Don't you ever?” I asked, raising a brow.

She leaned close, putting her hooves on my shoulders. “I'm not reaching when I say that everything's at stake. Everything we've been working on, everything you ever did for us, it will all have been for nothing if you don't help us here.” She took her hooves off. “I'm very sorry to throw it on you like this, but this is a sudden development.”

I scooted the other way. “Look, I don't know about this 'we' you keep referring to. You know I never cared for your... whatever it is you're doing. I steal books, you give books. That was the deal, no more. All I want is to find out why I'm having the dreams.”

“Nightmare Moon in chains?”

I nodded.

She pressed a smirk in my face. “What if I told you that I know somepony who might have the answer?”

I pushed her nose away. “Then I'd call you a liar.”

She leaned back at the wall, crossing her hooves. “When did you get like this, Page? You were my best friend.”

“Then you ran away and I didn't see you for ten years.” I crossed my hooves too, turning the other way to stare at a dark corner of the room. “We thought you'd died. Like you fell off a cliff, or got caught by some animal in the woods. I cried, Flora. Took me a month to recover. And then you show up at my apartment like nothing happened, babbling something about this mysterious 'we'.” I turned back to her. “I'm sorry if I have reservations.”

She poked a playful hoof at my side. “Must've been some convincing babbling, seeing how quickly you signed up.”

I pursed my lips, looking down. “You want me to go back there.”

“This is the last thing we'll ever need from you.” Though I wasn't looking, I heard the bed creak as she crawled closer, and I felt the warmth of her chest against my side. “Look. I know you don't like it. Nopony does. But I promise, this is the last thing.”

“You say that every time.” I shook her off. “Even if it were true this time, I'm no closer to an answer for my dreams. I'll have achieved nothing, except playing the chances for banishment. Or worse!”

“Oh, but you've done a lot. In fact, with all the information you've collected, we've managed to find out a few things about your nightmares.”

I twiddled the tips of my hooves, refusing to turn to her. “So you've been using me, even though you knew what I wanted to know. You're not helping your case here.”

“We didn't know! Not until recently.”

I shook my head.

“Okay, Page. Look at me. Look me in the eyes. Please.”

I turned to her with a sigh.

She cupped one of my hooves between two of hers, raising it between us. “I'm sorry.”

And I saw a sincerity in her eye that she could not have faked. In her gaze, I found memories. We've been here once before.

“Remember when we got lost in the woods?” she asked.

Oh, how could I forget? Out in the scary wilderness, the forest enveloping us, the sounds of wolves scampering just above the next cliff, the pain in my dislocated wing – such an experience leaves a mark in an eight-year-old. “It was your fault, you know,” I grumbled.

“It was, wasn't it? But you led us home. I need you again, Page.” She squeezed my hoof tighter. “Come on. One last adventure. I will tell you everything we've learned.”

I pondered for a moment. By the time I noticed the grin creeping up my cheeks, it was too late. I put my other hoof onto her grasp and squeezed back. “Alright. One final run.”

“Ha!” She hopped from the bed, trampling the parchments on the floor. “Well then, no time to waste. Let's go!”

“Wait, right now?”

She cast me a confused glare before responding. “Oh, we're not going to the Archives tonight. There's something else you need to see before we set this up.”

“Oh?” I got up as well. “What is it?”

“I think it's about time you met us.”

Flora Dawn led the way through the night. Not down the gas-lit streets, but down steep cliffs not meant to be travelled, across the darkest back alleys, and through gardens and courtyards of nobles and workers alike. With her guidance, we avoided the watchful eyes of the Royal Guards ever above. Clearly she'd been doing this for a while.

Though I could not put a hoof on where we were going; it appeared we took needless turns going in zigzag or in circles outright, passing the same spire multiple times before moving on. Flora barely ever stopped and never turned back, and I couldn't match her boundless energy to talk and gallop at the same time.

In the end, she made a sharp stop under a noble's hanging garden; it arced over an alley to connect one spire to the next. She put out a hoof in front of me and placed the tip of another on her lips.

“Ssh.”

“What's going on?” I panted, trying to keep my voice down. “Why are we—”

She put her hoof on my mouth, cocking her head upwards. “We're being followed.”

“What, like the EBSS?”

“They've been dogging me for a while. He's got to be alone, else he'd have jumped us already. He thinks I haven't noticed.”

I looked back into the moonlit street, frantically searching the shadows for prying eyes. “So what now?”

“We'll lose him up ahead.” She pointed towards a building whose bright pink logo cheerfully advertised the 'Gemstone Beauty Saloon'. “You round it to the right, I'll go left. There's an entrance to an empty canal there, totally underground, never used.”

“What, where the kids go to pee?”

She smacked me on the head. “Way better than what those guys will do to you, trust me.”

I sighed in resignation. “Alright. So when—”

A wolf's howl pierced the silence of the night, resonating across the streets and bouncing between the spires. I frantically turned my head up. Several storeys high, atop the crest of a noble's tower, I saw a wolf, its bright fur silhouetted against the starry sky. How in Equestria...

As the last echoes of the howl died down, I heard a muffled “What the!” from the hanging garden above. That was when Flora bolted from the shadow of the arch – and I followed without thinking. She ran quickly, quicker than I'd ever seen a pony run. My legs could barely keep up.

She ran around the saloon to the right, and I skipped over the fence to the left. The lights of the city around me bled together into a single smudge as I rounded the circular wall of the building.

On the other side, Flora came galloping towards me. She jumped in the air and pointed her horn down, sending one red flash of light at a maintenance hatch. The padlock came undone, red-hot and sizzling even as Flora threw the cover off.

She stuffed me down the hole and came hopping after me, pulling the hatch to cover the hole. With one last metallic clang, the cover fell into place and blocked out the last ray of moonlight from the outside.

“Phew,” Flora huffed. A spark of red light appeared at the tip of her horn, casting its glow on the nearby walls. “That was close.”

I eyed the hatch uneasily – or what I could make out of it. “You reckon he saw us come in here?”

“Let's not wait to find out. Come on.”

The tunnel was rather narrow, fitting maybe for a pony and a half. It quickly came to a fork; Flora led the way through the dank maze of mould and dust, pointing out any odd-looking puddles or leakages on the walls before I came to them.

“What is this place, anyway?” I asked.

“They connect to the rivers higher on the mountain,” Flora replied. “They're going to feed fountains or whatever with 'em. The point is they're not doing anything right now.”

“Uh-huh.”

We stopped every once in a while to listen for the sound of hooves, but nothing came. As far as we could tell, there was nopony coming after us. Whether that came down to our brilliant escape or their disgust for cramped, wet spaces was anypony's guess.

After a few more minutes of treading in silence and passing by one too many exits to the surface, I realised she really wasn't going to talk about the obvious. Seems like I'll need to take a metaphorical pair of pliers to her mouth again to get anything from her. 'For my own benefit', as if. “So, uh... that wolf.”

“Don't know, don't care. We got away, that's what's important.”

“You're really not earning my trust here.”

I'd have continued that line of inquiry, had I not seen light again – light that didn't come from Flora's horn. Our path came to the end as the tunnel led directly out to the mountainside – had there been any water flowing here, it would've cascaded right down into the depths.

Flora stuck her head out. Finding the coast clear, she hopped right out and began climbing the rocks. I thanked the powers that be for gifting me with wings.

Coming above the mountain-sill at the edge of the city, we surfaced at the private residence of a noble that overlooked the depths below. It appeared to be the only one around; by the look of it, it was among the oldest buildings of Canterlot, likely made hastily before they decided these cliffs were unable to support the large structures that most nobles demanded. The place, though large by any commoner's standards – or mine anyway – was nothing to brag about in the upper circles.

A courtyard surrounded the structure, blocked from the rest of the city by a stone wall taller than a pony. Rearing on my hind hooves, I could just barely make out the silhouette of the mansion's roof against the starry sky.

The unlit courtyard reeked of flowers and freshly cut grass. Normally I wasn't much for flowers, but by goodness was it better than the damp smells of that maintenance tunnel.

Along the path snaking from the main entrance to the gates, I saw statues of unicorns rearing and pointing to the sky, their various orifices spewing water that twinkled in the moonlight. Or was it wine?

Flora skipped over the fence with surprising ease – I used my wings to hop over. She ran quickly to the entrance of the mansion.

The door opened before we got to it. In the dark anteroom a pale, old stallion held the door for us. Flora walked in without looking at him.

I cast him a glance and greeted him cautiously, “Hello?” He stared blankly forward, responding only by closing the door behind us. I leaned to whisper in Flora's ear, “Who's that?”

She glanced at him. “Oh, he's just the butler.”

I kept staring at this 'butler', but he didn't budge and rarely blinked. He sat by the door entirely still, his eyes never wavering from the nothing in front of him. “Is he okay?”

Flora smiled, hanging her cloak. “He's always like that. Nothing you should be concerned about.” She kept her red amulet on.

“He's giving me the creeps.”

The anteroom was wide but unlit, and I detected the faint scent of incense wafting in the air. Listening, I heard voices – or mumbled whispers, really.

“In fact,” I added, “this whole thing is giving me the creeps.”

She patted me on the head, ruffling my mane. “Ponies are always a little scared at first. But don't worry, you'll soon realise there is nothing to fear. Really, to us, you're something of an... idol.”

I didn't know whether to laugh off that remark as a joke or to be concerned about what I got myself into. “Well, consider my curiosity piqued.”

“Just be yourself,” Flora said. “They're going to love you, and—” She cocked her head, raising her brows at something behind my back.

From behind an empty doorway peeked a small colt. He let his jaw hang agape as he looked at Flora, then turned to me. His eyes went wide when our gazes met, and a frightened gasp fell from his lips. He turned with a little hop, his tiny hooves clopping as he ran off.

“Tsk! Discovered,” said Flora. “So much for a dramatic entrance. I hoped we could surprise them.”

“Who exactly am I meeting, again?”

“More ponies like me. Ponies who are free. Come on.”

We walked through the doorway into the dim room beyond, following the waning sound of little hooves and hushed words across the hallways. From the inside, the mansion appeared larger than I'd have guessed: wide rooms opened into one another, lit by the occasional candle at the corner, their walls adorned by great vistas or paintings of great events in Equestrian history.

Doorframes had been carved into intricate works of art: slender ponies with both wings and horns greeted us every time we walked past. Depictions of the Sun and the Moon in a swirling sea of stars filled the ceilings to create one continuous skyline, while the carpets had all been embroidered with pictures of marching pegasus armies across conquered lands. Above, a private slice of the heavens; at our hooves, the steps of the many who came before.

Passing a few rooms, we reached what I took to be the inner sanctum of the mansion. From behind a half-opened door seeped out a stream of dancing firelight, its warm reddish glow bringing colour to the shadows of the hallway.

“They must be on their way,” said a stallion's voice.

“By the Moon above, what do we say?” mumbled a nervous mare. “C-come here Süß, sit in in my lap and be a good boy. Don't bring shame on us.”

I sent Flora a look. She turned to me with a cheeky grin. “Sounds to me they're excited to meet you.”

She pulled the door open, stepping aside. At once the room fell silent, and the smell of incense washed over us. A dozen stares greeted me. Flora cocked her head and batted her eyebrows at me. I stepped in with an uneasy gulp.

A fireplace crackled set against the wall, its warmth filling the room and its light breaking against the thick curtain that covered the wide window. There was no carpet here; the parquet lay bare and bore the scratches of many a hoof.

Or rather, it wasn't bare: a great, deep blue circle whose edge touched the base of each wall had been painted onto the floor. The points of a wide, six-pronged star touched the inner edge of the circle, and the star's lines were accompanied by even more runes and strange shapes.

The walls were white, lacking the pompous decoration that defined the rest of the building; the only thing to adorn them were straight lines, one shooting out of each point of the star, crawling up the wall to come together in a single point on the ceiling. The lines reminded me of the bars of a cell.

A stallion sat in the centre of the star, his back to the fireplace. He couldn't have been much older than me. The other ponies sat in front of him on an assortment of wide pillows, stools, or simply on the floor, incense sticks smouldering around them in scattered trays.

I saw a pair of them sharing a bottle of wine with no glasses in sight. A small group huddled around a single mare with a deck of fanciful cards laid out before her, the kind that old hags at the market used to dispense predictions and promise good fortunes in exchange for your bits.

The rest sat closer to the stallion in the centre, like children awaiting the tale of their grandfather. Among them was a teenage filly with the colt from earlier hiding behind her legs.

Indeed, the word 'children' seemed most apt, as most of the ponies in the room appeared younger than me, ranging from early to late teens. Apart from the little colt, the only other exception was an old, wrinkled unicorn who rested in a comfortable-looking armchair farther back, chewing a pipe in his mouth as he eyed me up and down.

The stallion in the centre turned to us. He gave a welcoming smile and began slowly clapping his hooves. After a second or two, the others caught on; in a moment, the entire room resounded with the sound of hooves. The teen filly with the colt grabbed the little one's hooves and clapped them for him.

Of all the things I expected, this certainly wasn't among of them. “Um... hello.”

The stallion in the centre lifted a hoof to the others, to which the clapping stopped. He stood up and came to take my hoof. I shook on it instinctively – only for him to pull my hoof closer and plant a kiss on it before letting go.

“It's a pleasure to meet you, New Page,” he said.

The room had been pretty cosy to begin with, but now it was getting uncomfortably warm. I fanned my head a little. “Stars, er, I mean, I'm glad to meet you as well.”

“And you,” the stallion said and stepped up to Flora, giving her hoof a firm, two-hoofed shake. “You're so late! We were starting to worry.”

The filly with the colt got up, the little one skipping behind her to peek at me with wide eyes. “Oh Nichts, don't listen to Kein,” the filly said. “He's always wearing his old drama-pants. We knew you'd make it.”

What did she just call Flora?

“Getting around is harder and harder these days,” said Flora. Nichts? “But yes, we made it. All in one piece, no dogs on our tail—”

“Is she the Progeny?” asked the little colt, pointing a tiny hoof at me. A round of gasps and whispers washed over the congregation.

The stallion – Kein – cleared his throat. “Now, now, everypony calm down.”

He bent down to the colt, who quickly hid his eyes behind the filly's leg. The filly, in turn, nudged him forward. “You've asked a question, boy,” she said. “Don't you want to hear the answer?”

“Her name is New Page,” Klein said to the colt. “She is very smart and very kind and you needn't fear her in the slightest. That is all you need to know.”

While the filly and Kein soothed the child, I leaned closer to Flora. “What's with the names? And what was it he called me?”

“It's not important right now,” she whispered back.

I elbowed her side. “It is important.”

“Excuse me,” Kein cut in. “Something wrong?”

Flora spoke before I could. “Page is simply unsure why she's here. I don't think we've introduced ourselves.”

Kein slapped his forehead. “Of course. How rude of us.” He bowed his head before me. “You might have gathered that my name is Kein. Soon to be Priest Kein, in fact.”

Priest? “Oh, well, it's a pleasure to meet you.”

Flora walked beside Kein and turned to me, knocking a hoof on his chest. “Kein is like a brother to me. But really, we're all a big family here.” She motioned towards the other ponies in the room: the filly with the colt, and all the other young mares and stallions looking eagerly at me. “Among us, my name is Nichts.” She took a deep breath, then let loose a relieved sigh. “It feels so good to say that in front of you, Page. Hello, my name is Priestess Nichts.”

“Yes,” said the teen filly, skipping up to me. In her eyes I saw the excited eagerness of a child not fully in understanding of the world. Though her grin shone with admiration, I couldn't help but feel unnerved by her. “And my name's Winzig.” She reached for the colt, not taking her eyes off me for a second, nudging him over. “And he's little Süß right here. Say 'hi', Süß.”

The colt just rushed to hide behind Winzig's legs again.

“He's lovely once you get to know him,” she chortled.

“Oh, I'm sure,” I said with a forced giggle. “Forgive me, I'm still not sure why I'm here.”

One of the wine drinkers got up. “Did you really break into the Archives?”

“What?” I couldn't believe Flora would so recklessly flaunt that. Why'd she tell all these ponies? “I—”

The other wine pony stood up. “I heard you've known Nichts since you were kids, is that true?”

The mare with the cards hopped up and pushed in front. “Yes! What was it like, growing up with her?”

“Hey now,” said Flora, stepping up protectively. “Everypony calm d—”

A stallion barely younger than me butted her out of the way, leaning in. “Can you really see the Nightmare in your dreams?”

“Do you always sense her?” asked another.

“Have you ever talked to her?”

“Has she ever talked to you?”

“What did she say?”

They gathered around me, inching closer with every word, smothering me with their questions and eager, starry stares. It was like they weren't even ponies any more, but starved beasts who'd happened upon fresh meat – except they craved my mind's contents rather than my body's.

“That's enough!” said a rough voice in the back, making all the others fall silent.

Everypony turned their heads towards the old unicorn in the armchair. He chewed his pipe, flicking it to the other corner of his lips with a twitch of his tongue. He drew on it deeply. Then he spat the pipe out – his magic floating it right in front of him – and shook his head, smoke pouring from his mouth and nose as he sighed. His gaze passed over every pony inside, skipping only me.

“That's better,” he said. “I can hear myself think.”

He bit on his pipe, then stood up, groaning quietly as his old bones helped him up. He dragged one of his hooves as he limped closer to me; the children around us backed away and dispersed to give him space.

“You've probably noticed,” he said, “that you have something of a reputation here. Nichts has spoken much about you.” He sent her a nod, then offered me a hoof. “Now then, you look like the kind of mare who prefers a hoofshake over kisses.”

As I took his hoof, I saw Kein look away for a moment.

“My name is Starcall Comet the Third of House Aurae Glow, and this is my home.” He drew on his pipe – then quickly turned away to cough into a hoof. “Excuse me. The curses of old age, eh?” He smiled. “Now, that is the name I was born with. Here, my name is simply Schweigen, and I am not an inkling more or less noble than any of us.” He sent the others a quick look. “Though my manners might be a touch more refined. A blessing of old age.”

Aurae Glow! I figured his features were familiar. Though not the richest noble house out there, they were by far the most – for lack of a better term – promiscuous. Ties of marriage bound the Aurae to practically every other House on at least one thread. For Flora and her little friends, it certainly made sense to use fake names – an Aurae, however, could have fooled very few indeed.

Though I would never have guessed that little Flora had friends in such high places. Evidently there was more to her ragtag bunch than I'd thought. “An honour to meet you, sir.”

“The honour is all mine,” he responded. “Please, no 'sir'. Tonight, I am merely Schweigen.”

I nodded. “Very well, Schweigen.”

Kein clapped a hoof on his shoulder. “And that's why we all adore him. As modest as he is wise. Prophet Nie's right hoof, we call him.”

Schweigen chuckled. “That honour belongs to our lovely Nichts, I believe.”

“Yes,” I said, “she's been very, er, helpful to me. In fact, she's called me here to perform some sort of job, I believe.” I gave her a look. “Although I'm not sure who this 'Prophet Nie' person is.”

“He's only the most amazing stallion you'll ever meet,” said Flora. She slowly turned away, looking up at nothing as her eyes shone with the glow of admiration. Or infatuation, more like.

Kein turned the other way while scratching the back of his neck, and the kids giggled quietly. Schweigen sent them a stern glare.

Flora shook her head. “Sorry, I got a little ahead of myself. Nie is... he guides us. And he, well... he saved me.” She hung her head.

Kein nuzzled her. “It was Nie who found her.”

“You know I ran away,” said Flora, voice wavering. “Mum and Dad, they moved to Horsmouth to get away from the world after the Longest Night. Don't know what they left behind, but... I don't think they ever wanted me, Page. Dad beat me. Mum didn't care. You were the only reason I didn't run away sooner than I did.” She sighed. “I was just a little filly lost in the country, but I might as well have been a rat.” She sniffed and dragged the back of a hoof across her nostrils. “I learned to beg. I learned to steal. After some noble's kid practised his archery on me one day, I learned to stay out of sight.”

“Wow,” I said. “Flora, I didn't know—”

She took a deep breath to collect herself. That ironed her voice a little.

“It was in Colthagen, I think. Big city, you know, plenty of places to hide. I must have been, like... thirteen. I quickly learned my way around the back alleys, and there was this ancient sawmill on the outskirts, completely trashed and abandoned. That's where I'd go to sleep. It was fine for a while... then one night, I began hearing sounds.”

The other kids gathered around us, dragging their pillows and stools closer. By the looks they gave her, I could tell some of these kids have been there themselves.

Flora puffed her chest and gave them a brave smile. She seemed to enjoy telling ponies the story for the first time.

“I thought somepony had found me,” she continued. “I was helpless, and I didn't want to imagine what they might do to me. Hooves clopping, sneaking, just out of sight, you know? I was terrified. I jumped out the window onto a pile of rotting logs. Sprained an ankle. But I didn't care, I just ran, ran all the way to the city. Didn't return until the next morning. And you know what I found?”

The kids leaned closer, their ears perked forward. Schweigen and Kein exchanged a smile.

“I found a pile of food wrapped in a blanket.” She looked up, again with that dreamy look. “And that night, Prophet Nie came to me. I just had to take one look at him, and all of my fears, they simply vanished. He offered me a place to stay. If it had been anypony else, I'm sure I'd have said no. But Nie... there's nopony under the Moon and stars who can say no to Nie.”

The kids passed around nods and smiles, though a few of them looked worried.

Flora booped the nose of a concerned-looking kid, winking. “He didn't take advantage of me. All he did was talk. He told there was a family waiting for me.” She wiped a tear away, stepping closer to the kids – and spread out her hooves for a collective hug. “We're all one family here.”

“And they call me melodramatic,” mumbled Kein, turning to me. “Ah, she drums it up, but she isn't wrong. Prophet Nie is truly exceptional.”

After a round of hugs, Flora sat down with the other kids, nodding at Kein. “So go on, then. Tell the story.”

He sighed. “I'm actually of noble blood.”

I raised a brow. “Oh?”

“Yes,” he said. “House Talltree, I think. Nichts told us you study history, so you might now what happened to us.”

I needed a moment to search my memory. 'Talltree' does sound familiar... “Celestia ousted them from the Senate right after the Longest Night. They'd been most vocal about reinstating the old order, without alicorns.”

“We lost everything,” Kein went on. “I was just a toddler then, of course. Didn't learn about it until I was ten. My parents, they gave me away to some backwards, farming family. I might be noble by blood, but I've always been just a regular worker. I've worked on that apple orchard since I could remember. All my life I been told, 'work harder, Celestia says so'. I'd never seen her, I had no idea who she was, only that she knew when I didn't work hard enough.”

He sat down and grabbed one of his fetlocks, circling it around and making the joint pop.

“And did I work hard. When I was very little, I genuinely believed Celestia was always watching me. I'd look up to the sky and talk to the Sun, to her, reassuring her that I was doing my job. I got obsessed with making her proud.”

He started to chuckle, but it quickly turned into one long, weary sigh. “I grew out of it, eventually. It wasn't until one day when I had to deliver a batch of apples to Canterlot that I really grew up. It was years ago, the city wasn't even half this size then. But even so...”

He rubbed the back of his neck and searched the wall for words. “I mean, I sort of knew who Celestia was, but only when I saw her looking down from the palace balcony did it dawn on me. Her eyes passed right through me, past that enormous cart, didn't even linger a second. Because Celestia never really watched me work. She didn't even know I existed. After that, well... I never went back to the farm.”

“He made a living working temporary jobs,” Schweigen interjected. “You've spent a month plastering the walls of the Palace, haven't you?”

“And I hated every second of it,” Kein said. “It wasn't long until Prophet Nie found me. He has an eye for troubled youth.”

I turned to Schweigen, expecting another lengthy tale. It must have been quite something, I figured, as he wasn't young and neither did he seem particularly troubled.

“Oh, quit staring,” he said. I thought I saw his cheeks flush red. He drew on his pipe before continuing, his words coming out in clouds of smoke. “I don't have such a story to tell. Nie is close to my heart, though.”

“Is that so?” I asked.

Schweigen shrugged and blew out the last waft of smoke from his lungs. “He is my son. The only thing I have left since the Longest Night.” His eyes danced across the walls. “Well, the only thing I care for.”

“See, Page?” asked Flora. “I wanted you to know who we are. We're ponies just like you or anypony else. 'Cause when you think about it, haven't all our lives been wracked by the Longest Night?”

I couldn't help but think about Papa. “All of Equestria was.”

She walked to the middle of the room, a stool sliding over to her in a red envelope of magic. She quickly hopped on top of it and reared on her hind hooves.

“And now Celestia sits on the throne of this rotting world,” she preached. “Think how different all our lives would have been if Princess Luna were still among us.” She slowly put her hooves down; the stool tipped forwards but did not fall over. “Luna would never have let her sister become the unyielding tyrant she is.”

Aaand that's it, I said to myself. I'm going to the mines, I just know it.

Flora leaned back, making the stool tip the other way. “Prophet Nie says it best: had it not been for the cataclysmic betrayal of Princess Luna, Equestria would still be paradise. And if she were to return, all would be set right in the world.”

She hopped to me, sending the stool falling the other way.

“This is who we are,” she said. “We are, all of us, the Children of the Longest Night.”

The room erupted in applause again. Schweigen nodded with a proud smile, and I saw Kein wipe a tear from his eye.

“May the Mother return,” Flora proclaimed.

“May she return!” repeated the teens all at once.

So I've been working for a damned cult of lunatics all this time. Figures.

“Please,” I said and tugged Flora's side. “Let's just get this over with. You know what I want: answers to my dreams. That's it.” Seeing the suspicious glances cast my way by the others, I took a cautious step back. “No offence, but I'm fine living in this rotting world.” I gulped. Maybe that wasn't the right thing to say. “For now, at least. Look, Flora, I'm here to do a job. Let me see this Nie.”

“You're going to,” she replied. “He should be right upstairs, just a little bit busy. Working out the details of your job, actually. He said he'd call for us when he's ready to see you.”

“He's done, actually,” said Kein.

Flora's ears perked and she skipped over to him. She leaned on her front legs as she looked into his face. “Well, why didn't you say so? We've no time to waste, Page needs to—”

Schweigen put a hoof against Flora's nose and pushed her down. “Nie came down not long before you arrived and told us to escort New Page upstairs when she comes. Except we've had an unexpected guest right after that.”

Flora gave him a confused stare. “What kind of guest?”

“He called himself Sunbeam Gigglesnark.” Schweigen raised his brow. “Yes, bit of a joker, he was.”

Kein put up a hoof. “B-but the butler let him in, so we knew it was safe.”

Schweigen nodded. “Indeed. That, and Nie told us he'd been expecting him, just that not tonight of all times. He asked not to be disturbed, and well, they haven't come downstairs since.”

Flora's face flushed red as she chewed her lower lip. “Okay so first off, I don't care who this jester thinks he is, Page is more important, and second of all you can't just let anypony waltz up to Nie and distract him from...”

She paused for a breath – she drew in sharply, then threw her head back with an exasperated groan.

“Okay,” she continued. “Page, everpony, I'm sorry about this. I think Schweigen, Klein, and I have some, shall we say, in-house policy to review.” She grabbed Kein by the nape and dragged him out of the room. “Come on, Schweigen.”

Going by their faces, the teens felt just as awkward as I did in that moment.

Leaving the room, Schweigen turned back. “Try not to eat New Page alive, would you, children?” he said before a red aura around the knob slammed the door shut.

I was kind of afraid to look at the others after that.

Turns out my fears were unfounded: be it the scene that played out or Schweigen's scolding words, the children didn't seem at all interested in me now. As I looked at them, I saw each of them quickly avert their eyes and distract themselves with whatever they had. They went back to their wine and cards and the rest – or at least they pretended to as long as I was looking.

I sat down by the window, poking my muzzle past the curtain to look at the night sky and the Mare in the Moon. I wondered if she'd be more honoured or offended to have these ponies worship her with such fervour. Could such admiration have helped prevent the catastrophe, or would they have only worsened it?

“Sorry,” came a quiet voice.

I turned to see Winzig and the little Süß behind her. “Sorry what?” I asked.

“Well I, I kinda got overexcited, jumping on you like that. And, well, I think I started the avalanche.”

“It's alright,” I said.

Her eyes lit up. “Really?”

“Of course. Everypony gets excited sometimes.”

I could tell she tried to control her grin, but she couldn't. Once again she became a filly before Hearth's Warming, with eyes shining and giggled barely contained.

She extended a hoof. “I'm Winzig, by the way. I mean, I think I've already said that, but, um, in case you forgot.”

I shook her hoof. Looking at her, she seemed even younger than I'd have previously guessed. Thirteen, maybe, or fourteen at most. On the side of her forehead, hidden beneath her unkempt bangs, I noticed a scar of some sort, or more like a burn wound. I couldn't exactly make it out, though.

“So, what's your story?” I asked, taking a glance at the little colt behind her. He quickly cowered behind Winzig, ears pinned. “You aren't his sister, are you?”

She hung her head, then shook it slowly. “Well,” she whispered, “everypony gets excited sometimes, right?” When she looked up, I saw a forced smile under a pair of bitter eyes. She grabbed Süß and sat him in her lap, kissing the top of his head. “I love him, though. Love him to bits. I mean, this whole Moon thing...” She leaned closer. “Don't tell anypony, but I'm not much into it. But... they're family.” She bounced Süß a little. “Our family. I don't know what I'd have done if Kein hadn't found us. Good on him for his initiation. He deserves everything he gets.”

“Initiation?”

“Yes,” she said, “Kein is being initiated into Nie's Inner Circle. He's becoming a Priest. That's why we're all here, really.” She waved a hoof across the room. “All of us ponies Kein found. I've only known some of them for a few weeks, but... we're all a family.”

“Where does Nie fit into this family? For all that talk, he doesn't seem to spend much time with you down here.”

“Nie is, um...” She stroked her chin. “Nie is busy. I think. I've only met him once. A lot of us have only met him once. But it's okay, I mean, Celestia's dogs are hounding him, the bastards. That's why he has the priests and priestesses all around Equestria to help spread his message.”

I cocked my head. “What message?”

She looked over both her shoulders before turning to me with a conspiratorial grin. “Kein told me... he told me Nie is convinced Luna will come back soon. And she's going to need us ponies to welcome her.”

“And you believe that?”

She shrugged. “I'll believe anything, me.”

As we talked, I couldn't help but stare at the scar on her forehead. She must have caught me trying to squint past her bangs; she lifted a hoof to brush her mane out of the way.

On her forehead was not the mark of some accident, but something deliberate: her hairless, burnt skin bulged in the form of a crescent Moon.

“Not much into it, huh?” I asked.

She shrugged. “It's stylish. Needlepins... I mean, Dieb does them.”

I raised a brow. “I've been meaning to ask. What's with the names?”

“They symbolise we're all equal in the Family,” she said, a bit too quickly. Must be a line she'd heard enough times to stick verbatim. “Don't you want a name?”

“I think I'll pass.” Seeing her smile falter, I patted her shoulder. “Hey, maybe later.”

As I touched Winzig, Süß pulled his neck in and cowered in his mother's lap.

I bent down to him. “Hey,” I whispered. “It's okay, it's okay. I'm a friend. See?” I mustered the widest smile I could. By the stars, am I terrible with children. “Are you scared?”

Süß nodded.

“Big, scary world out there, isn't it?”

He nodded again, tucking his head under Winzig's leg.

“You know,” I said, “I didn't have a Papa either.” To that, his ears perked. “Yeah. I know how scary it can be. But don't be afraid. You need to be strong and brave for your Mama. Hey, you're a big, strong stallion, aren't you?”

His expression seemed to ease up – and I detected the faintest hint of a smile.

I heard the door open. Flora marched straight for me, horn lighting up and a red tuft of magic pulling at my side.

“It's settled,” she said. “Come on. We're going upstairs. Whoever 'Gigglesnark' thinks he is...” She made a face as she said that name. “...you are more important.”

“Wait,” I said, “are you su—”

“Yes,” she cut in. “Move it.”

Her magic dragged me outside, much to the protest of Schweigen and Kein. She took me up the stairs, visibly frustrated.

The upstairs hallway branched two ways, both equally dark, lit dimly by but a few candles hoisted in the walls here and there. Though their light let me see a few hanging paintings and loose draperies, I could not appreciate the decoration here as I did downstairs. Not just because of the darkness, but because of the troubling sounds of argument down one way.

“Who do you think you are?” resounded a deep, booming voice from a closed door at the end of the hallway. By the anger in Flora's eyes, that was not Nie. “Do you honestly think she'll listen to you? To you?”

Flora prodded my side, nudging me along. I really didn't feel like interrupting whatever was going on in there.

“It's going to work,” said another, much lighter and wavering voice. “I've got it all figured out. We just need one fragment to reignite the spark of harmony in her heart.”

“A fake will never work. And you're only going to use a single one, too! Even six barely stopped her. It'll agitate her at most. And then she'll draw out your death as long as she can.”

We stopped before the door. Flora sent me a look, putting the tip of her hoof on her mouth and cupping an ear against the door.

“It is a possibility,” said the lighter voice, “but it's why I want you there. If two of her children—”

“You have me risk my life calling me into the middle of the city, and this is why? You do know the dogs are sniffing for me.”

“I admit, it is an ambitious plan. But we will pull through, I can sense it.”

“Even you can't see the future.” He scoffed. “Some prophet!”

“Look. My children will be ready when the time comes. The question is if you'll be there to help us.”

“Your incompetent children? The ones who were tailed halfway across the city? The ones I had to save just so they could come see you?”

There was silence for a moment. “EBSS?”

I leaned to whisper in Flora's ear. “What's he talking about? That wolf—”

Flora just waved a hoof, pressing her ear harder against the door.

“You should know to expect as much,” said the deep voice, “when you're running your entire operation out of Celestia's kennel.”

“Did you see the dog's face?” asked the lighter one.

“No,” replied the deep voice. “Even I know better than to start a fight here. Consider this a gift. Now stop wasting my time with your insanity.”

“No, no, wait!” called the other voice, frantic. “Look. Look at me. If you only saw things my way...”

“Did you just try the eyes on me?” There came a primal growl, almost like that of some animal.

“What? No.” The sound of steps; one set of lighter hooves stumbling backwards, and heavy stomps following and getting heavier with every step. “Yes! I did, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have, I'm s—”

His words broke into a scream as something roared. A crash followed amidst sounds of struggle and pained cries.

Flora tore the door open and rushed inside while I stood stunned at the doorstep.

There lay a white pony – Wintermist! – whimpering and crumpled atop a broken desk, and a tremendous white wolf standing over him. A single paw, almost the size of my head, pinned Wintermist's chest down as the wolf silenced him by ripping his throat apart. The wolf then raised its head, turning his eyes at us.

“How dare you!” screamed Flora, her horn and amulet glowing red in unison. “Get off him this instant, or I'll splatter you on the walls!”

Winters thrashed and twitched. He turned his head towards us as he grasped to his torn throat with one hoof, gurgling unintelligibly. I heard the others rush up the stairs from below.

The wolf stared at Flora for a moment, leaning his head forward as his nose sniffed the air. He then looked at me, sniffed in my direction – and stepped back, taking his paw off Winters.

I glanced to the side for a second – I was afraid to look away for any longer – and saw Kein coming to meet us at the door, Schweigen hobbling behind him as quickly as he could.

By the time I turned back, Flora had already rushed to Winters and taken his twitching body into her hooves. The others, too, ran past me into the room. As for me, the only movement I made was a step backwards. The wolf's black, beady eyes were still set on me, staring into me, paralysing me.

A shiver ran down the wolf's spine. It sat down, its muscles tensing and relaxing seemingly at random – and is it getting smaller?

The wolf shrunk, its white fur retreating into its skin, leaving behind a short coat of black. Its claws stuck together, and under the skin of the wolf's visage I saw tendons rippling and bone shifting with audible snaps and pops.

I blinked and rubbed my eyes, looking on in disbelief as the wolf turned into a stallion right before me. Stranger still, perhaps, was that none of the others seemed to be fazed at all. Schweigen and Flora dragged Winters away while Kein stood between them and the now-pony.

Although no longer as gigantic as the wolf had been, this stallion still sported an intimidating stature. His charcoal coat contrasted his white mane, and his eyes bore little more emotion than the wolf's had.

He held his chin high and stared down Kein with the casual disdain of a noble. Then he turned his eyes to Wintermist without moving his head. “You had it coming. And now...” He stood up, looking at Kein. “Make way, please.”

Kein ground his teeth – but after a moment, he stepped aside. The transformed stallion casually walked around the broken table, coming for the door – for me. He was but a step's distance away by the time I managed to regain control of my legs and get out of his way.

He stopped as he passed by, setting his eyes on me. He leaned forward, sniffing me again; I couldn't help but to shrink away, to which he gave a satisfied smile.

“To your credit,” he said, head tilted towards the others but eyes on me, “she does seem to be it. I'd recognise the scent of Luna anywhere.” He put a gentle hoof under my cheek, and I froze up at his touch. “Honestly, I'm quite amazed.” He put his hoof down, this time turning fully back towards Winters. “You know what? Your plan might work after all, though I'd much rather bet it'll end the world.”

Shrugging, he began walking down the dim hall, mumbling under his breath. “I've had enough of this damned existence anyway.”

“I'm fine,” came the cracked voice of Wintermist, followed by a fit of nasty coughs. “I am, I really am.”

Schweigen and Flora helped him up, and my jaw dropped; I saw Winters' neck to be entirely intact. That wolf just tore out his throat, yet now he stood on his own hooves as though nothing had happened.

I stumbled closer, unable to take my eyes off him.

Winters patted the shoulders of Flora and Schweigen, stepping up before me. “Your eyes don't deceive you, Page.”

“Is this some kind of a... a trick?” I looked at Flora. “A joke? Did you just want to see my reaction? Well, I don't see the point!”

Winters pointed at a letter opener lying on the carpet, apparently fallen from the broken table. “Nichts, would you kindly get that for me?” Flora nodded, her magic enveloping the thin blade and lifting it into Winters' hoof.

He then looked straight at me, holding the blade up between us.

I took a look at it, then raised a brow.

Before I could ask, Winters jammed the letter opener into his left eye.

“Stars!” I squealed, falling back. As I watched, I felt the prick of the knife in my own body, and the deeper Winters pressed it, the stronger became the pain that coursed through me. “What are you doing?”

Winters leaned closer, twisting the blade in his socket, all without making a sound. Every little squish and turn of the tiny knife made me flinch as though it had been in my own eye. I could feel it scratch the borders of my eye socket and scrape the inside of my skull, squashing, scrunching.

Slowly, he removed the blade – I felt every inch of it slide out of my own eye – and he presented it to me: almost entirely clean with hardly any blood, and what little there was seemed already dry and ready to peel off.

His ruined left eye – a gelatinous mass of bloody tissue – bulged, pulsating to a heartbeat's rhythm. I wanted badly to turn away, but I couldn't take my eyes off him. Even as my eye began to tear up, I couldn't so much as blink the tears away. Gradually, Winters' eye took on a proper globular form, its redness draining away until it was but a clear white sphere.

The middle parted and tore itself a pupil hole. The red colour of his iris poured out from it.

He let the letter opener slide out of his grasp and land with a small thump on the carpet. He gave me an expectant stare, his eyes urging me to have the first word.

I couldn't help but take a step back, and I eyed him up and down. “What are you?”

“Isn't it obvious?” Flicking his undone white mane back, he blinked away one last, stray red vein in his new eye and grinned to expose a pair of fangs among his teeth. “I'm a monster, New Page.”

Without turning, I pointed a slack hoof towards the door. “And... and that other guy...”

He waved an apologetic hoof. “An old acquaintance. We're not exactly different, but not exactly the same, he and I.” He looked the others over. “Oh, no need to give me those looks. I really did have it coming. Just a minor misunderstanding, it's nothing to get worked up over.” He put on a reassuring smile. “It's like saying hello for him, really. Unfortunately he has chosen a different path from mine, and it would appear he decidedly won't reconsider his position any time soon. I was hoping I could convince him to help us, but I should think I blew it. All on me, that one.”

He sighed, nervously brushing his mane with a hoof. “Thank you all for your concern, but as you can see, it takes more than a little sting to hurt me. I should have a talk with dear Page here now. We've been postponing it far too long.”

“A-are you sure?” asked Kein.

Winters nodded back. “Wait downstairs. I'm sure the children are wondering what the commotion was about.”

Schweigen clapped Kein on the shoulder, cocking his head towards the door. Kein gave a conceding sigh, and the two quickly left.

“Even you, Nichts,” Winters said.

Flora's cheeks flushed red. “Oh, I though I... alright.” She turned for the door, but couldn't resist looking back. “Page? We need you. Really.” With that, she left.

Winters waited for the sound of steps to die down, then turned to the door himself. “Wait here, I need to get something.” He cast a glance at the broken table. “I'm sorry about the mess.”

He stepped out of the room, going directly for the door across the hallway.

Only now did I get a chance to get a proper look around the room, finding much of the same displays of wealth and nobility as I had downstairs. The hall basked in the light of an ornate chandelier, and paintings covered the walls. Sofas and chairs cushioned by what looked like the softest materials from all of Equestria and beyond provided ample seating space for the guests that didn't exist.

An array of scented candles burned peacefully on an engraved shelf that somepony must have paid good money for, diffusing a distinct smell of exotic flowers that conjured up images of riches and pretentiousness in equal measure.

I hadn't paid much attention to it before, but the far wall was covered by a gilded, deep-blue curtain. Decoration, I wondered, or are they hiding something back there?

Running my gaze across the walls, I stole a peek outside – and found that Wintermist had neglected to completely close the other door behind himself. As impressive as the hall was, Winters' little study captivated me more.

Half-melted candles lit that room, shining light on scattered pieces of paper and hastily scribbled notes that stuck to every surface. Stacks of books and heavy tomes stood everywhere.

Rather like home, in fact. Though after the previous display, I knew better than to assume Winters was just a kindred spirit.

There on the wall, a little above eye level and lit by a set of newer-looking candles, I finally saw the focal point of whatever research Winters was conducting. It was a rough sketch of a young mare with a wide face, striking features, and a big, bushy mane. What details the sketch provided were perfectly enough for me to recognise the pony – but the initials scribbled into the corner of the paper dispelled any doubt: 'N.P.'

Winters picked up a book and turned. I instinctively looked away, looking at some painting of the Old Castle to pretend I hadn't been spying. Winters came back into the hall, and this time I heard him properly close the study's door.

He smiled, showing the cover of the book: 'Soul Link: A Study of Luna's Fractured Spirit', written by Star Swirl the Bearded.

“Familiar?” Winters asked.

“Hey, I just lifted that the other day.”

“Splendid work on that, if I may say so.” He stepped up beside me, opening the book. “I should apologise for calling you here so suddenly, but it was in fact this book that—”

“Hold on,” I interrupted. “Before we get too deep into this, I'd like to settle a few things. Clue me in a bit.”

Winters looked up, his eyes holding a hint of surprise – or even offence. I didn't care for it. He rolled his eyes and slapped the book under his wing. “Fine. Ask away.”

“First, the obvious. You're not really seventeen, are you?”

“I was seventeen when the Longest Night hit. I was caught by a blood-drinking fiend of Nightmare Moon. A few hours later, I was one of them. I think it is best if I end that story right there.”

Friendly as he was, I still had to take a cautious step away. “You drink blood.” More of a statement than a question.

He shrugged, giving a short chuckle. “I get enough volunteers.”

“And how come I've never noticed your fangs before?”

He grinned, again showcasing his pair of sharp canine teeth. “Among the many extraordinary qualities Nightmare Moon's curse has bestowed on me, I have a skill of, shall we say, subtle manipulation. Simply put, I did not want you to see them.”

I crossed my hooves. “'Subtle' is the last word I'd use to describe you, Winters.”

“Just goes to show you don't know me.” He chuckled again. “I can tell you're concerned. Don't worry now: you've been helping us entirely on your own accord since long before we'd ever met. If you need somepony to blame, that should be Nichts, not me.”

My eyes narrowed as I stared at him. “I don't suppose you bumped into me by accident the other day.”

He raised his brows in feigned fright. “You got me.”

“You know, that's another thing bothering me. The others drummed you up to be some kind of messianic bringer of harmony, and not, well...” I looked him over. “Some weird thing.”

“I suppose the children are a little more impressionable than you.” He looked down for a moment, putting on a smile. “I appreciate their enthusiasm.” He turned back to me. “I'm going to assume Nichts has given you her Children of the Night speech already.”

“She seems to really like giving it.”

Winters grinned. “That she does, though she doesn't get to as often as she'd like. Now, if we could focus on the task at hoof—”

“Oh no, Nie,” I cut in. “That was just the small stuff. Now comes the real question. What was that about Luna back there? Your 'friend' looked at me like... like, I don't even know. And a kid down there, the little colt, he called me... the 'Progeny'?”

His expression lit up. He jerked his wing, flicking the book back into his hooves. “So this is the one by Star Swirl. I'm not sure you understand how astoundingly important it is. In fact, I'm surprised they hadn't moved it into the Star Swirl the Bearded Wing.”

“I don't see how this relates to my question.”

“Patience, Page.” He flicked through the pages, showing diagrams and pentagrams and formulas of potions and magical balms and whatever else – until he stopped about halfway into the book, prodding a hoof into it.

“Here. You know about the Night Guards, right? I'd expect as much from a student of history.”

“Only what little there is to know. Luna transformed normal ponies into these strange, different forms.”

Winters sent me a look and raised a brow.

“Though I suppose,” I said, “you'd know more about that than I do.”

“I know a few things,” he replied. “For example, I know the Night Guards are not like me. They are unlike anything else Luna or even Nightmare Moon had ever created. The difference...” He glanced into the book. “Is right here.”

The passage he pointed out gave a short description – a summary, it seemed – of the ritual used by Luna create the Night Guards. Apparently she'd shear off a piece of her own soul – a process claimed to be immensely painful – in order to 'sew it between the threads of another soul'. It was the magical outpouring of Luna's soul fragment that deformed these ponies and gave them their supernatural powers.

As for Luna, her soul would always mend with time, though 'spectral scars' would remain. Whether these scars would ever heal, or what their long-term effect on Luna might be, Star Swirl could only speculate.

“I cannot overstate the significance of this,” Winters said. “Night Guards had a part of Luna's soul inside of them, all of them. I don't, and believe me, I've gone to excruciating lengths to make sure of that.”

“This is all very interesting,” I replied, “but what does it all have to do with me?”

He smiled, flicking through the pages again all the way to last few. “Here. This is why we need you.”

This chapter was quite long and went on until the very end of the book. Here Star Swirl talked about preparing more experiments on a peculiar subject: a torn fragment of Luna's soul, caged inside a crystal orb. Luna had apparently given this up voluntarily to Star Swirl so that the great wizard might find out more about magic concerning the manipulation of souls.

It also described the enchantments used to protect this priceless artefact from falling into the wrong hooves. A spell had been placed on the crystal that scanned the soul of anypony who touched it. The crystal's container opened only for a select few: Star Swirl, Celestia, or Luna herself.

A 'minor security flaw' had been noted here: it seemed that the spell could not differentiate between Luna and her Night Guards. There was no reason for panic however, as Star Swirl wrote: the Night Guards were immensely loyal and would never think to go against Luna's word. Thus the crystal, and Luna's soul with it, was safe.

Most fascinatingly, the final few entries appeared to have been added after the Longest Night and Nightmare Moon's banishment – by none other than Princess Celestia herself. The piece of Luna's soul inside the gem was apparently still intact, and as far as anypony could tell, unaffected by the magic of the Elements of Harmony. Celestia deemed it too dangerous to study any further, though, and had it locked away...

...in the Star Swirl the Bearded Wing of the Canterlot Archives.

Having read the last line, I closed the tome and turned to Wintermist. I frowned and shook my head. He smiled and nodded.

“No way,” I said. “I can't risk it. I almost got caught the last time, and that was just the Lunar Wing.”

Winters placed a hoof on my shoulder. “Don't worry. I've got this all figured out, and you won't be going alone. Nichts and I will be with you every step of the way.”

I shook him off. “Look, even if we get in there, and even if we find this thing – and these are pretty big ifs, mind you – even then we won't be able to use it. It's got a spell lock, and I don't assume you know any Night Guards willing to help.”

“Like I said, I have a plan.” He cocked his head the other way, pointing the tip of his wing towards the door to his study. “You want to find out about your dreams, don't you? I believe I have an answer, but I cannot be certain. Not until I have the crystal.”

A spark of anger flared up inside of me – I'd had enough of his game. I stomped hard. “What is the answer?”

He took a step back – but by the intrigued smile on his lips, it was not out of fright. He looked me over once, then leaned close.

“I believe you have a piece of Luna's soul inside of you, New Page.”

Swift Sweep

Lullaby arrived at dawn. “Have you heard the—”

I slammed the door behind her and stuffed the night's report into her hooves. “The White Wolf in Canterlot? Oh, I noticed.” I pointed at the pages. “Read.”

She sifted through the papers quickly.

“What, Nichts...” She looked up at me in confusion; I just nodded towards the papers. “This is huge. We've even got a name. 'Flora'. And she dyes her coat... damn. No wonder we never caught her. And you...” She flicked further. “You followed them. You left your post here and you followed them.”

“Was I supposed to let Nichts get away?”

“In fact, yes.” She chewed her lip, shaking her head. “You sure it was her?”

“There is absolutely no mistaking that amulet.”

She read along. “You saw the White Wolf. And he...” She scratched her head. “So this is when you lost them, when he distracted you. No way this is a coincidence. If the White Wolf is working with the Children of the Night... River Flow has to see this.”

“River?” I asked. “TG might be interested as well.”

“Damn it, Swift!” snapped Lullaby. “Do you want Grotto to die? Let's not give him clues on how to find the wolf.” She didn't let me respond. “River got Project Heartbreak after TG got reassigned. He shepherds all the new kids Celestia put on that task.”

I rubbed my forehead. “Yeah, of course. Well, you have the day shift, so...” I held my hoof out. “I'll take this to him right away.”

“Are you sure about that? I'm sure I could break protocol just this once. I mean, you already have last night.”

“Look, if New Page is dealing with the Children of the Night... it hurts me, Lullaby. It really does. But I have to be the one to do this. I need this.”

Lullaby looked back at the pages, nodding to herself in contemplation. “Very well.” She arranged the papers and gave them back. “You be quick about it, okay? No detours. No second thoughts. No doubts.”

I smiled. “I serve Equestria. To doubt would be to harm us all.”

A Life of Lies, part 2

Swift Sweep

In the underground world of EBSS Headquarters, there were no shadows. Magical light permeated everything. The plain walls shone with a bright sheen, the undecorated halls clanged with the sound of hooves and the shortest little gasps, and in the air artificial detergents masked the taste of sweat and tears.

This eternal twilight was our home and lifelong prison, our shelter from the sunlight we did not deserve, a sterile tomb for ponies already dead to the world. Today, I would earn my redemption.

I kept my eyes forwards as I walked down hallway after hallway, never slowing for any familiar face. In my bag I carried a simple stack of papers: my report of the previous night. My thoughts drowned out the sound of my steps.

New Page worked for the Children of the Night, that much was for certain, even if she did not realise it herself.

Her words echoed in my mind. “Look, I don't know about this 'we' you keep referring to,” she'd told Priestess Nichts.

New Page was a friend of Nichts, the same Nichts that I had failed to capture in Project Heartbreak. The same Nichts who had helped abduct, torture, vivisect, and brutally experiment on innocent ponies, most of whom had no chance of recovering.

It was obvious that Nichts trusted New Page; apparently the two shared childhood history. New Page could have been involved in countless cult activities without her even being aware of it. The best thing for her – and for all of Equestria – would be to apprehend Nichts and finally shut down the cult's entire operation. They were no more than parasites eating our Equestria from the inside, and this particular maggot had grown far too fat and painful to not be cut.

If I had to destroy an innocent filly – no, not innocent, I reminded myself – to rid Equestria of the Children of the Night, then I would do it. I had to be the one to do it. For the past was behind me, and New Page had no power over me. I could not let her take advantage of my conscience.

Three floors underground in HQ, I'd finally reached the offices dedicated to Project Heartbreak. Back when we worked on Heartbreak, I had spent entire weeks in these tiny spaces mulling over evidence and exploring our options before finally taking plans to Twilit Grotto. Now the place bustled with young faces I did not recognise, running about with papers of their own and yapping for the attention of their peers: dozens of puppies replacing our tight team of old dogs.

A pair of puppies came around the corner, dragging a young mare – barely an adult – by her front hooves. Her head drooped forward on her slack neck, and though I couldn't see her face from her ruffled, patchy mane, I still heard her quiet sniffling. Blood dripped from thick cracks on her twitching front hooves.

As the puppies passed by, a third came following them with a stone-cold expression and a red-stained vice clenched between her teeth.

These kids had no idea about the truth behind the EBSS; they did not know the secrets that us old dogs kept. If anything, they just liked the power and the privilege granted to them by being part of the organisation. They lacked the fire that drove the old dogs, just as they lacked our understanding of atrocities. Employees of livelihood and self-serving cruelty, all of them.

I may have liked to see monsters suffer, but these ponies would've tortured just about anypony for the mere excitement of it.

The only old dog still on Project Heartbreak was, incidentally, a stallion that not even the rest of us liked. River Flow always had the reputation of being a spiteful, self-righteous stallion, and he had a special disgust for me. The morning after the Longest Night, I had been the one to find him with his own spear piercing his throat, and it was my rapid intervention and call for help that ended up saving his life. Or prolonging the suffering, as he liked to put it.

I always thought I saved the wrong stallion.

While I did not like to grovel before River, he now led Project Heartbreak – and thus the search for Priestess Nichts and the supposed Prophet Nie – as appointed by Celestia. I had little choice but to present my findings to him. He would be the one to apprehend New Page, but he could never do it without my help. That would be enough for me, I thought.

The door of the project lead's office bore his name, though under the hastily scribbled letters you could still make out the scraped remnants of 'Twilit Grotto'. Grotto was, incidentally, the only pony that River still held a shred of respect for.

A lone Royal Guard – that complete wimp of a new guy I recognised from the other day – stood beside the door. We greeted each other with a nod. When I raised a hoof to knock, he spread a wing to stop me.

“River Flow is busy and does not wish to be disturbed, sir,” he said.

“That's a shame.”

Throwing his wing aside, I barged in without knocking just to show that kid I could.

River Flow stood by his desk, leaning on it with his front hooves and scrutinising several papers laid out in a disorderly fashion. He didn't so much as look up to greet his visitor.

“Why are you wasting my time?” he growled. “And yours, for that matter?”

“I thought you might like to hear something.”

Hearing my voice, he finally looked at me. He sighed before removing his hooves from his desk, then swept everything to the floor with a wing. “What is it?”

I waited for the many parchments to settle and stop ruffling about. Stacks of papers stamped with the marks of eyewitness reports, interrogation results, and surveillance data filled the shelves and, for the most part, the floor. In the corner, a trash bin had overflowed with crumpled papers, the excess collecting around it in a pile.

“I assume the investigation is going well,” I said.

“Yeah.” Clearing his throat, he walked around the desk to come face to face with me. “Would've been easier if we hadn't been given false data at the start.”

“That's on you as much as it is on me, then. We were on Heartbreak together, if I recall correctly.”

He turned around without responding, going instead to rifle through a tray full of papers on the shelf. By his increasingly frustrated expression – and his lips parting more and more to reveal more teeth in his snarl – I figured he couldn't find what he was looking for. I could've sworn he was mumbling something under his breath, probably nothing too nice, though to me it came through more as indistinct groaning and throat-sounds.

He threw the tray over his shoulder, nearly hitting me in the head with it and sending all the papers in it flying. Then he went to search the one next to it. I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy seeing him struggle at least a little bit.

Eventually he picked out a single piece of paper and slammed it onto his desk. “This is your report, from your genius interrogation of Heavy Yoke.”

Now that was curious. I'd have bet my life I'd got through to Yoke. “Are you saying he lied about Prophet Nie?”

“No, I don't think that wretch could've lied. He was just flat out wrong.” He bent beside the desk to pick up a sheet of paper he'd swept off, then placed it beside the other report. “Yoke said Nie would be arriving in Canterlot soon. We've been on the lookout and have indeed seen increased activity. Lots of youngsters washing up in the city lately. You've seen the kind. Cut marks on their legs, the Moon etched over their cutie marks, the kind to buy two dozen candles for no apparent reason...”

“I might have seen a few loitering around, yes.”

“Well, we've managed to catch a few of them, and... convince them to give up information. Nothing that Celestia would ask about.” He sent me a piercing look. “I'm a cunning, pitiless monster now, just like you. Better than you.”

I breathed deep and swallowed the urge to deck River in the face. “And?”

“Prophet Nie is real by all account, but it turns out he won't be coming soon. He's been here all this time. For months, possibly years. Watching, waiting, planning.”

“And why,” I asked, “having learned this, didn't you bring Heavy Yoke in for a round of questioning again?”

River's eyes narrowed. “We would have, had he not cracked his own skull against the wall of his cell the day after you were dismissed.”

“Then what about his sister? Last I've been told, she was getting better. Couldn't you get anything out of her?”

“She also died.”

“How in Equestria—”

“Nurse snapped, slit her throat.” He shrugged. “Told us one of the ponies the Children kidnapped was her sister. We checked records and turns out that wasn't even true – the nurse just went insane.” He looked around. “Must be the lovely atmosphere. Before you ask, yes, we've dealt with her accordingly.”

Rubbing the side of his head, he pulled out a drawer and threw a stack of papers onto the desk.

“Interrogation reports. They keep talking about this 'Progeny'. Say she's the daughter of Nightmare Moon, and that she'll bring about her return, yada yada, doom and gloom.” He gurgled, then spat a glob of phlegm onto the floor. “Makes me sick. Point is, whatever they want, it's big and it's happening soon. I'd wager the Summer Sun Celebration.” He ground his teeth, kicking the side of the desk. “I would've appreciated if your work hadn't set us off in the wrong direction.”

“The Summer Sun?” I asked. That was coming up next week. I grinned before I knew it, and the look of contempt in River's eyes made it all the sweeter. “You look desperate.”

He stomped up to me and shoved me to the wall. “At least I'm working, unlike you!” His voice trembled with anger, making it even harder than usual to make out his words. “While you're off watching a little girl, I'm trying to save all of Equestria.”

I pushed him off. “Don't belittle me, River! Celestia saw it important enough to have the EBSS conduct surveillance on this mare. Are you trying to imply otherwise?”

“Yeah, I bet your job is just as important as mine.” He eyed me up and down with a sneer on his face. “I see it's taking its toll on you. You look even worse than I remembered. Been having sleepless nights? What, bad conscience?”

Another word, another tiny prick. “My conscience is none of your business.” Though I was trying to keep my cool, he really made it difficult.

“My mistake,” River said. Turning around, he went to pick up some of the papers he'd scattered, speaking without even looking me in the eye. “You don't have a conscience.”

The more I looked at him, the more my blood boiled. How smug he looked, not even turning to me as he talked. That condescending tone.

“Excuse me?” I asked.

He stacked the papers on the desk and looked me in the eye again, his expression disgustingly calm and matter-of-fact.

“I didn't make a hobby of breaking the legs of old mares. I didn't obsessively spy on nobles who said bad things about us. We are all guilty, true, but some of us more so than others. I didn't do half the evils you did during the Longest Night, Swift. You set the Library on fire. You threw that baby out the window and then raped her mother in your triumph.”

The heat of anger rose in my chest with every sound he made. I needed no reminder of my acts. I could not forget the sounds of crackling fire, of tearing flesh, and cracking bone. Veiled Quill's last, desperate scream rang in my ears.

But most of all, I felt hate for River Flow. All I could think about was kicking that bastard's head in – and how, if he could've read my mind, he would've used these very thoughts to justify his hatred of me.

He stepped up before me, looking me up and down with a casual disgust, his nose scrunched as though he stood too close to an outhouse. I stiffened my legs, pressing them at the floor, and I froze up completely. I did not want to move, not even an errant twitch, lest I'd do something I'd regret – and I tried to show none of my frustration because I did not want to give him the pleasure.

“Just look at you,” River said. “You don't even feel bad. You don't care. You never have, and you never will, as long as the Princess' will be done.”

“How dare you,” I said through my teeth. I kept my hooves still, but they shook with the impotent anger that frothed inside me.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Don't even pretend. I know for fact you don't care.” He slowly raised his chin, then touched the tip of a hoof to the scar on his neck: the mark of his suicide I'd thwarted. “You don't have a conscience, Crescent Strike.”

Hearing its name, the monster inside of me finally broke out of its cage. I shouted my rage as I charged River, grabbing him like he was nothing and slamming his back into the desk with enough force to leave a crack in the wood.

He whimpered in pain, and I looked him over. So tiny and frail and pathetic compared to me. I could snap him in half. We'd all have been better off without him!

I raised a hoof and readied to pummel his face into a pulpous mass.

He didn't struggle. He lay completely still on the desk, his eyes holding nothing but a casual disinterest. He took once glance at the hoof that was about to cave in his skull – then looked back at me and flared his brows as if daring me.

I didn't think he'd have minded if I killed him right there. Would've proven him right and given him a quick way out; a flawless victory for him, really.

Or maybe he just knew I wouldn't do it.

My shoulder went slack, and my hoof clopped weakly on the table. I stepped away and put my forehead against the wall.

I heard River get off the desk and crack his back.

“You see,” he began, “that's why I'm in charge of Project Heartbreak. You're unpredictable, Swift. While you're chasing that filly, I'm going to find Priestess Nichts. I'll track down Prophet Nie. I'll catch every last one of their lunatic followers. I'll make them pay.”

The door creaked. Turning, I saw him holding it open for me.

“As for you...” he said, pausing to look me over. “You can rot.”

I needed a moment to be able to speak properly. When my heart calmed, I answered him. “You're never going to find Nichts. I'll keep a seat warm for you in my new project.” Then I walked out, but I couldn't help but turn back for one last thing. “Or maybe TG should in White Wolf?”

New Page

Winters let me sleep in. He'd given me a quite luxurious bedroom for the night, complete with a humongous canopy bed with silky drapes and a calming smell I couldn't help but think was magical in origin. I'd need all my energy, Winters said, and told me to sleep well. In the meantime, he left to take care of 'a few important matters'. I didn't ask.

And how well I slept! Usually I had a difficult time sleeping even under the best of conditions, but that night in that room, I slept like a log. I couldn't remember the last time I felt so refreshed waking up.

I spent the day with the children, getting to know a few of them. Mostly it was just Winzig and Süß, though. I took quite a liking to the colt, and he to me.

But of course, I couldn't stay with them forever. I had more important things to do. Winters came back in the early hours of evening, just after sundown.

We'd gathered in the upstairs hall. Kein helped replace the table with one from a different room, but quickly left to 'tend to the children' as he put it. That left me with Winters, Flora, and Schweigen upstairs; we all huddled around the table as the great prophet laid out his plans.

Winters put a large roll of paper against one end and unfurled it across the entire desk. It appeared to be a hoof-drawn map of some sort, showing a labyrinthian cavalcade of great rooms and twisting corridors, with scribbles and tiny arrows dotting its surface. Large sections were marked with question marks or left outright empty.

“This is the Star Swirl the Bearded Wing of the Archives,” Winters explained, “or what little of it we've managed to piece together. This is merely the first floor. From what we can tell, there is a hidden section underneath that, unfortunately, we have little to no information on. By all accounts, though, that is where the Soul Gem is kept.”

I put a hoof at the main gates. “How do you even plan on getting in? This has got to be the most secure place in all of Equestria. Celestia has it guarded better than herself.” I dragged my hoof across the long corridor leading to the wing. “This is the only way in, and you've got dozens of guards patrolling every inch. Then there's all the spell-locks on the gates and who knows what else.”

“But that's just it,” Flora interjected. “The wing is filled with secrets that Celestia wants hidden forever. Things she wants absolutely nopony to see.” She leaned in with an expectant look in her eyes, though I didn't know what to make of it. “There are no guards inside, Page. If we get in, it'll be a walk in the park.”

“Really?” I asked. “That's the big plan? Just get in undetected, and then it's easy? Kind of a big leap.” To that, all the others exchanged knowing looks and a few sly smiles. Evidently they knew something I didn't.

Schweigen walked to the back of the room, to the blue curtain covering the wall. He took the drawstring in his mouth and pulled. As the curtain parted in the middle and began receding, I crossed my legs awaiting the great revelation.

From behind the curtain, an image of myself stared back. It was a giant mirror that covered the entire wall; entirely unremarkable in itself, save for its size. Oh, and of course: Winters had no reflection.

A series of gems studded the mirror's upper edge, diverse in all colours and growing in size towards the centre, with one large ruby crowning the mirror's crest. Now, I did not know the first thing about magic, but I had worked with enough enchanted gems to gather that this was no ordinary mirror.

Schweigen smiled. “I only finished it a few days ago. That's seven years of work right there. Of course, none of it would've been possible without your help.”

I took a few cautious steps towards the mirror. “So, what does it do?”

Flora stepped up beside me, sending a wink. “I'd better show you.”

She closed her eyes, pointing her horn towards the ruby atop the mirror. Her magic swelled, making the air around her pulsate and her mane swirl with it. After a moment, even I began to taste magic's sharp, bitter twinge on my tongue.

Her eyes snapped open, irises lost in blinding white light. At first her pupils were pinpricks, then they slowly dilated to an unnatural size. She pointed a hoof at the mirror and spoke through a trembling throat and chattering teeth, “W-watch-tch...”

The magic that surged from her body appeared to warp her voice: it didn't seem to align with the movement of her lips, and her words were distant and echoed as though carried by the wind. Every sound seemed to come from multiple directions and as many different mouths all whispering the same thing.

“H-here it c-comes-s.”

The ruby at the mirror's crest burned with ethereal fire, and the mirror's image whirled and rippled like the surface of a pond disturbed by a falling pebble. Lines blurred and colours drained from the edges to the centre until its entire surface was matte grey. A crack appeared at the centre – in a second, it dilated just as Flora's eyes had, and through the aperture I glimpsed a great canopy bed.

Through the mirror I saw the mirror where I'd slept the previous night, downstairs.

“C-come on,” said Flora, walking slowly to the portal, magic still engulfing her horn. She felt for the hole in the mirror with the caution of a blind mare, then stepped through one careful hoof at a time. Once on the other side, she turned to me with a smile, extending a hoof back through the hole. “Th-there's nothing t-to be afraid of-f.”

I gave Winters a glance, and he nodded reassuringly. I took a deep breath, then I took Flora's hoof, crossing the threshold.

And there I was again, beside that scarily comfortable bed in my room. In the middle of the room floated a pulsating magical gate, air seething around it and making my hairs stand on end.

Although I could not name what it was – a tear in the fabric of space itself, a teleportation spell fixed in time, perhaps – I could figure out its purpose. With this, we could easily bypass the outer defences of the Star Swirl the Bearded Wing. Well, assuming that it could tunnel through all the Wing's magical shields – but by the look of Flora's glowing eyes and horn and her magically burning amulet, I supposed they had that figured out. Or hoped, rather.

Winters cleared his throat, and the sound came at once both through the portal and from upstairs. “I should think that's enough for one demonstration.”

“G-go on up,” Flora said, gesturing to the portal. A smile twitched onto her lips. “Easier than th-the stairs-s.”

I hesitated a moment; I could've sworn the portal was smaller now than it had been, and its edges wobbled and vibrated with increased intensity. Figuring I shouldn't wait long, I hopped across as quickly as I could – and the portal snapped shut behind me in a sparking flash of light.

The portal's magic gone, a rush of shivers washed over me. Only now did I notice my rapid heartbeat. “Wow,” I said, brushing my mane back. “That was something. But what about F... I mean, Nichts?”

“She should be fine.” Winters walked to the hall door and craned his head outside. A smile overtook his lips and he waved down the hallway. “There she is,” he said, stepping out of the room.

In a few seconds he returned with a stumbling Flora's leg over his shoulder. Her head draped low and her mane swayed softly over her face as she gasped heavy breaths. Winters patted her shoulder.

“That was impressive,” said Winters. “That's the longest you've held it.”

Flora forced a weak giggle between two gasps, raising her head to look at me. “Yeah. Wanted to prove I can do it.”

“That has to be some seriously high-level magic,” I said. “No offence, but I never took you for a prodigy.”

“She isn't,” Schweigen commented, to which Flora cast him a frown. “It's the amulet. Take it off, would you?”

“No!” Flora burst, coming off Winters and lunging forwards with a snarl. She shook her head. “Sorry. I mean...” She gave Winters a glance, who nodded in turn. “Oh, alright.”

She undid the latch at the back of her neck and took the amulet between her teeth. Her coat wasn't even dyed blue underneath it, revealing smudged hues of her natural pink – to which she raised a hoof to hide her neck like a self-conscious little filly. If I squinted just right, I could also make out a recent bite mark.

Schweigen's horn came to life and magic whisked the amulet from her to me, stretching it in the air.

I examined it, though I could've described it with my eyes closed from seeing it on Flora so many times: a triangle-like shape, pointing down and slightly curved to the pony's body, made of dark metal that shone with undaunted polish despite being well-used, and a dark ruby at the centre.

“You lot seem awfully fond of enchanted gems,” I said.

Schweigen grinned. “Well, I am. I make these, you see.”

I reached out to the floating amulet, and Schweigen's magic dropped it into my hoof. “I should've figured this was one of—”

An intense, burning cold struck my hoof, as though the amulet had driven an icicle through my leg. I couldn't even scream – I just recoiled with a choked gasp, dropping the amulet and shaking my hoof to relieve the pain. As I fell back, I took my hurt hoof into the other and checked for any damage. I found none.

Flora was quick to jump and lend me a hoof. “Are you okay?” Behind her, Schweigen and Winters exchanged a quick, conspiratorial look.

“What was that?” I snapped, looking them over. “Stars, my head is throbbing. What's in that thing?”

Flora picked the amulet up – and she didn't flinch at it.

“You think you know this amulet,” said Winters, “but you don't. Try taking a deeper look at it.”

Flora held out the amulet, and I peered at it, making sure to keep my distance and not to touch it again. There, inside its dark red gemstone, I noticed something I never had before.

A little patch of black: uneven, amoebic, tiny veins spreading like cracks and receding at random. The longer I stared, the closer I inched. It was mesmerising.

“What is it?” I asked.

“A piece of the past,” Winters said. “A lock of Nightmare Moon's mane.”

“It's from the Longest Night,” Schweigen said. “When Nie presented it to me... I've never worked with anything like it. Even this tiny fraction of Nightmare Moon holds powers beyond imagining.”

Winters took the amulet from Flora's hoof, breaking my concentration. That's when I realised how close I had got to it – a little more and I could've taken it into mouth myself.

“And you, New Page,” said Winters, “you have a special connection to Nightmare Moon. Remember what we read. The chest that contains the last unbound splinter of Princess Luna's soul opens to none but Princess Luna or her Night Guards. This is why we need you.”

He grabbed my hoof and pressed the amulet into it, clutching with his so that I couldn't let go. A thousand icy pinpricks stabbed my hoof as the cold snaked from through my leg into my chest and head and my very mind. Winters' red eyes stared into me, and I found myself transfixed.

“You may choose not to believe me, but I believe in you.” He leaned closer; I leaned closer. “I believe you can open the chest.”

A few minutes before midnight, Flora pointed her horn at the mirror's crowning gem, and the air once again shifted and swelled with magic.

“This might be the end,” she whispered, closing her eyes.

Winters stepped up to the mirror. “If something happens, we can always get out.” He turned to Flora. “We're all counting on you.”

Flora looked up with a smile and gave a reassuring nod.

“Whatever magicks protect the Archives,” Schweigen added, “the Alicorn Amulet should cut right through them. Once you're inside, though...” He dropped into an armchair and drew heavily on his pipe. As he stretched, I heard his old bones and cartilages crack and pop all the way from here. “Best of luck to you.”

“Whatever magical defences the wing has,” said Winters, “we have somepony here who should be able to walk right through them.”

“Don't give me that look,” I replied. “It's a guess at best.”

“It's the best we've got.”

Flora pranced in place, the clopping of her hooves softened only by the thin carpet underneath. The resonance spread across the whole room; I could feel it in my hooves, and the shadows cast by the chandelier fluttered ever so subtly.

“Okay, okay,” she huffed. “Ready?”

“Ready as I'll ever be,” said Winters.

Well, I'm already committed. “Do it.”

Flora stopped hopping in place and shut her eyes tightly. Then her eyes snapped open with white light, and the mirror rippled under her spell. A crack once again appeared and the window through reality dilated open like the eye of a cat.

Through it we finally saw a vast hourglass ten ponies high: the centrepiece of the Star Swirl the Bearded Wing.

Winters was the first to hop across. He looked around before turning back to us to wave a beckoning hoof. This was my last chance to turn back – to decide I didn't need Winters' explanation of my dreams, to throw away all the years I spent researching history, to let all the times I'd been almost caught be in vain.

“Hurry-y,” whispered Flora, her voice an echo at the back of my mind.

One deep breath. One step, and another three.

I was through.

Flora jumped across, the portal zipping closed the moment she passed. Her hoof caught the floor awkwardly as she landed, making her fall clumsily over; Winters caught her. She wheezed and rubbed the side of her head, but nodded to him before getting on her own hooves.

“This is it.” Winters' whisper echoed through the great benighted hall.

There were no windows, and the thick, enchanted doors at the end of a wide hallway ensured nopony outside could see we were in. A faint magical glimmer filled the entire wing, refracting through the hourglass at the centre and bouncing between all the shadowed halls.

The hourglass seemed stuck in time; though the sand flowed without stop, the amount in both the lower and upper glasses appeared constant.

Any way I looked, more hallways spread, lined by shelves of grimoires and scrolls: a goldmine of forbidden knowledge in itself, but this time I wasn't here to take any of it.

While Winters had predicted – correctly, by all account – that there would be no guards outside, we still couldn't be sure whether the wing had other means to expel unexpected intruders. Still, for all the grand defences outside – the squadrons of Royal Guards, the spell-locks and magical barriers – the wing looked altogether peaceful and, if I hadn't known where we were, unremarkable. Just another library.

I couldn't help but wonder how Celestia kept the place organised, given that she didn't want anypony inside. I couldn't picture the great Princess hauling all these books around herself.

Perhaps the smoke was greater than the flame – and Celestia banked on scaring ponies from attempting to break in. Could it all have been for show?

“Stop right there!” came a thunderous voice from all around us.

We put our backs against the hourglass, looking out into the benighted hallways that extended from where we stood.

“Where did that come from?” whispered Winters.

“You can open the gate at any time, right?” I asked, nudging Flora in the side.

“I think so.” She turned to Winters. “Should I?”

Winters said nothing; his eyes scanned the room with rapid twitches as he cranked his head about – like a dog listening for something you can't hear. He sniffed the air, then stuck out his tongue – only to pull it back right away with his face screwed up, as though he'd licked something very sour.

“There's something here,” he whispered.

An ethereal blue light sparked to life inside the hourglass, casting our shadows onto the walls. We all jumped away, turning towards the hourglass. In its upper portion appeared the reflection of a massive eye that was nowhere to be seen. Its pupil was slit like a snake's, but a milky white rather than black: an eye blinded by a cataract. I'd seen the like of it in Horsmouth; an old mare had it just the same.

The pupil dilated, rolling its blind gaze over us.

“Don't think I can't sense you,” rumbled an incorporeal voice across the halls. “Your auras burn brightly in the darkness.” The eye's reflection moved across the glass, looking at Flora. “You are not the Princess. You are not Star Swirl. Explain who you are.” Turning to Winters, the pupil shrunk to a single line. “Tell me why I should not rip you limb from limb, demon.”

“I'm opening it!” cried Flora, rubbing the base of her horn with one hoof and smacking the amulet with another. Her face contorted with exertion and she clenched her teeth as she willed her horn to come alive.

A bolt of lightning arced from the ceiling and struck her horn, throwing her into the nearest bookshelf with a crash and a pained yelp cut short.

“Cease!” rumbled the disembodied voice. “One more move, and the Princess will find only charred remains.”

My heart pumped. This thing – whatever it was – had us in its power. Think, think... But there was no use thinking. I had no idea what it was, much less how to fight it or even escape it. Though the books mentioned certain protective enchantments, we came entirely unprepared for... whatever this thing was. Unless...

I turned to Winters. He batted his eyes at me.

Well, it's worth a shot. I straightened up and cleared my throat, trying to sound as offended – downright insulted – as I could. “How dare you!”

The eye zapped across the glass to look at me.

“How dare you treat your Princess like this?” I asked.

The pupil dilated slowly. “L-Luna?” stuttered the not-so-mighty voice.

I immediately felt the widest grin I ever had – and, I think, ever would. And though my gaze was fixed on the hourglass-eye, I heard Winters suppress a victorious laugh behind a hoof.

“I... we demand you apologise this instant, you unfaithful monster!” I really let my voice out there, hitting that last word like the crack of a whip. If there was something I'd learned in my time among students, it's that if you yell hard enough, they'll believe anything. Used to be when the Senate worked like that.

The eye disappeared from the glass in a flash of blue. In another, a little pegasus filly appeared in front of me, half my age at most. She was green all over, and her coat glowed an ethereal blue, little sparkles floating gently into the air like sparks from flame.

She stepped closer slowly, meekly, and squinted her blind eyes at me. “Your aura is so different. Smaller.”

Okay, think of something, something... “Why yes, I have lost some weight.” Smooth.

She jumped at me with the innocent giggle of a small child, wrapping her weightless hooves around me. “Luna, I missed you so much!”

I put my hoof on her back – or tried to, as it passed right through her half-transparent body. “I've missed you too.” Well, I suppose I have. I did not know how my aura could possibly be mistaken for Luna's, but as the ghost-filly buried her muzzle in my mane, I shot Winters a glance. He'd have a lot of explaining to do once we were done.

“Who are you, then?” I asked. “Actually, what are you? My... friends would like to know.”

She jumped off me, turning to the others. Flora stayed hidden behind her prophet, but Nie gave the spirit a warm, welcoming smile.

The filly eyed them for a while, then turned back to me “Y-you're... you're authorising me to—”

“Yes,” I cut in. “You can tell them.”

“Oh, I'm just a baby.” She straightened herself and smiled proudly. “I was going to die, but Luna saved me. Snatched my soul right as I left my body, and zham!” She reared, whisking an ethereal hoof through the air. “Here I am. I think I'm indebted to her for the rest of my life. Which would be forever now.”

Winters bent down to the filly. “How peculiar. What's your name, then?”

She puffed her chest, ethereal hairs protruding. “I'm Corona.”

“Hello there, Corona.” He extended a hoof, and Corona tried to take it, though hers passed through his. She frowned before biting the tips of her hooves and chipping away at them a bit. When she offered her hooves again, they solidified; she shook Winter's hoof with both of hers and gave a proud grin.

“Pleasure's all mine, sir! Sorry about that earlier, by the way. Hope this form's not too scary. I've been really practising this whole 'intimidating' thing. Rawr!” That little roar ended in a fit of giggles.

“Oh, you got us good. Isn't that right?” Winters turned to Flora, who was still standing in the back, shaking.

“Yeah.” She circled a leg, popping her shoulder. “Real good.”

Corona flipped around to look at me. “It must've been like, like, a whole year since last time! Star Swirl said you'd be away for a while, and it got so lonely. Celestia gets very grumpy when you're not around, and she never visits. Boring in here all alone.”

“A whole year, huh?” I rubbed the back of my neck, suppressing an uncomfortable giggle. I glanced towards Winters, who shook his head. Yeah, let's not tell her. “Well, I'm here now, that's what m—”

“So how were the Griffin Kingdoms? Star Swirl said you went to the Griffin Kingdoms.”

“Um...” I gulped, none too subtly. “Nice. They were nice. A little too carnivorous for my taste.”

“Hey!” Corona yelped. “I take offence to that.”

“Uh, sorry?” I figured it was best not to press that matter further.

“Say, Corona,” I began, “I'd love to chat, but I'm actually here for a reason, and I'm pressed for time. Could you help me out a little?”

She snapped to attention and saluted. “Anything!”

“A while ago, I gave Star Swirl a piece of my own soul. I heard he brought it here while I was... in the Griffin Kingdoms. Do you, by any chance, know where he put it?”

“Oh, that thing.” She skipped over to the hourglass and spun around, pointing her tiny hoof down a hallway. “Straight up 'til you hit the wall, cross the Lightning Gate, twice to the right, down the stairs two floors, one right, two lefts, past the Sun Furnace Trap, open the triple combination spell-lock and you're there.”

“Wow.” I looked at Winters and Flora. Winters batted his brows and grinned; Flora shrugged. I turned back to Corona. “You... you wouldn't happen to have the keys?”

“So then Celestia comes in and knocks the whole shelf over. All three hundred and sixty-five books and two hundred and one scrolls, all of it. Said she doesn't want it up front 'cause it reminds her too much of you. But she totally told me to put those there, like, just the day before! She had the gall to say she didn't. Like I said, she's been very grouchy ever since you went away. Looking for reasons to get cross with me, I swear. Anyway, she came back later to apologise. Oh, she must be so glad you're back! You have told her you're back, haven't you? You wouldn't come to me first, unless...”

Corona stopped in her tracks for an excited gasp – more out of habit than actual need, I supposed.

“Unless I'm more important. Oh, Luna, I wouldn't...” She jumped at me, hooves wide, only to fall right through my body. All I got out of it was a shiver. “Ouch. Anyway.”

She hopped in front of us, placing a hoof onto the massive, enchanted gate before us.

“This should be it.”

It took a while for all the magical bindings to dissipate from the door. Lights danced across it in patterns of hexagons and pentagrams and all kinds of runes, making whistling, tinkling sounds of music and ear-piercing noises of scraping metal.

Finally, a wave of magic washed over the great gate, all its lights winking out. The gates parted and creaked open, revealing a chamber on the other side. Flora, Winters, and I gave a collective sigh of relief that we got in... and that Corona stopped talking for just a minute.

The chamber beyond was enormous, its sheer vastness enough to stop my in my tracks. Winters had to nudge me in the side to snap me out of the shock. We all got in, and the gates shut behind us with a great slam, the echoes lingering in the chamber.

Being in the room was like standing in the inside of a massive globe of stone; the only relatively flat surface was the floor, although even that had a gentle decline towards the centre. The room had to be bigger than even the Room of Twin Thrones in the Palace. Curved pillars lined the walls, glowing glyphs and magical markings covering them and meeting at the centre of the ceiling.

Three steps of stairs led up to a podium at the middle, from which a pedestal sprouted, itself about as tall as myself. On top of it rested a gilded, red pillow that cradled a crystal orb; a swirling, shifting ball of blue magic surrounded the composition.

Winters leaned to my ear. “You know,” he whispered, “when I read 'container', I pictured something more physical.”

Corona took off, flapping her tiny wings to come between us and the pedestal. She put a hoof up. “Right! No closer.”

“No closer?” I asked back, raising a brow.

“Celestia was very strict about this. Said I shouldn't even let her touch the thing.”

Hm. “As Princess, I overrule that order. Let me through.”

I stepped forward, to which Corona put her freezing hooves against my chest and pushed me back, beating her wings as fast as she could to keep me at bay. “N-no! Sorry. Can't do that. I just can't, Celestia would be mad.”

Flora leaned in. “Celestia actually told us we can take it.”

Corona flew into her face, pouting. “So what was that about 'overruling', missus? H-hey!”

While she was busy with Flora, I sneaked onto the podium. Now Corona grabbed my tail and yanked me back.

“No touching the Soul Gem!” she squeaked. “I mean it.”

I turned and looked deep into her blind eyes, mustering the most disappointed look I could. “I need to take this, Corona. I come back after all these years, and you won't let me?”

“I...” She clopped her front hooves together, eyeing them and descending slightly. “I'unno, Luna. You... I could just summon Celestia and ask, but she hates it when I bother her.”

“Oh, that won't be necessary. I can take this, trust me.”

“It is too necessary!” Her wings carried her the other way as she put her front hooves against her temples, and began rubbing. “Princess, Princess...”

“No, stop!”

She turned back. “A-ha! Why are you so against it, huh?” She flew closer, putting her forehead against mine. “What's up with your aura anyway, huh? Why's it so dirty? Weight doesn't even affect it! Or not this much, I'unno. What's wrong with you, Luna?”

Behind Corona, I saw Flora tip-hoofing up the podium.

“Wrong with me?” I asked. “What's wrong with you? Why won't you let me take it?”

She sighed, hanging her head. “Ah, you're right. You were there when I broke my leg, after all.”

“Yeah,” I said. “So please, stand as—”

“I never broke my leg!” she screamed. “I broke my wings! Luna would remember that!”

Flora touched the whirling ball of magic, only to recoil as a bolt of magic shocked her hoof. Corona spun around and flew into her, ramming her off the podium. Seizing the opportunity, I rushed for the pedestal as well.

Before I could reach for the Soul Gem, Corona flew back and shoved me away, too.

“Enough!” she roared with a thundering voice that could not have come from a filly. “What's my full name, Luna? What's my full name?”

I ground my teeth. She narrowed her eyes. I couldn't answer that, and she knew it.

“Nie, Nichts!” I yelled as I bolted to the right, circling the pedestal.

Corona tailed me through the air, and Winters and Flora ran after both of us. Although only I could touch the Soul Gem – if Winters' theory was right – I could still use their help. If Corona solidified her ethereal body to push us, I figured we could shove her in kind. All the others had to do was get her off me in the right moment.

“You liar!” she roared, making the stone walls of the chamber tremble with her voice that grew deeper with every word. “Cheater! Thief! Monster!”

As I ran, I felt a strange pressure grip my chest. But Corona wasn't anywhere near me, and she wasn't nearly big enough to grab me like that, so I had no idea what I was feeling.

I didn't have time to ponder as the invisible force lifted me and threw me against the wall. I hit the floor with a resounding smack – before seeing Flora and Winters land beside me as well.

As I got onto my aching legs, I looked around for Corona, but she was nowhere.

From thin air come a powerful, deafening roar. It was a roar I recognised, though not one that I'd ever heard before, one ingrained into all ponies as a primal fear and recognition. A roar that cut into the very bone, one that made even the bravest warriors keel over with sheer terror. The sound of an inevitable, impending, insufferable death.

Upon the podium at the centre, blue light swirled. Slowly, it solidified into a definite shape; not one of a harmless little filly this time, but something much larger and far more vicious.

A pair of clawed feet to stand on, a thick body glistening with emerald scales, a pair of talons and spine-covered wings, and finally the fire-breathing mouth of a furious dragon. It was nowhere near full size – a small child by dragon standards – but it still stood far taller than any of us while easily boasting our combined width. So this is the thing whose soul Luna found it in herself to save.

“Celestia will be here soon,” Corona said, huffing smoke and coughing ash that dissipated before reaching the floor. “She'd love to question you.” She stomped, making the room quake. “But she won't.”

Her maw bulged then shrank, and she jerked her head forward to heave flame. I jumped up, flapping my wings with all my might to get away from the heat. Behind me, the very stone wall erupted in devouring flames. Though I dodged the brunt of it, a stray spark caught my wing, burning through my feathers and charring my skin before going out. I couldn't hold myself in the air for long.

I landed badly, tumbling to a stop. When I looked up, Corona's poised talon was above me, ready to strike. I rolled and jumped, but pain struck my leg, and I fell again.

“No!” screamed Flora.

She ran for me, her magic creeping around my body and pulling. Her aura yanked me up just as she reached me, and she grabbed me and threw me the other way. The next thing I heard was Corona's talon slamming into the ground, and the painful scream of Flora.

She'd rolled away, but not in time; the talon had sliced one of her hind legs, leaving it little more than a torn wad of flesh and splintered bones dangling from her body. Corona watched her for a moment as she tried to crawl away, crying in pain, and a grin appeared on her scaly lips.

Winters rushed over to her, but lent no helping hoof. “The amulet!”

I didn't know what his plan was – all I knew that we had no time. Celestia could've been there any second, and the dragonfire still raged on at the other side of the room, slowly eating away at the stone and enchanted metal. Though it produced no smoke – none that lasted more than a few seconds, anyway – the heat rapidly ramped up inside the chamber. The whole place could've collapsed within the moment, for all I knew.

“Hey!” shouted Winters with Flora's amulet strapped around his neck. Corona looked towards him. “Listen to me!”

I ran around Corona's back to reach Flora. She curled up, squirming and biting a hoof to suppress the pain.

“Are you okay?” I asked. Of course she wasn't okay. I still felt right asking, for lack of anything to do.

She clenched her teeth and nodded towards Winters.

He walked right up to Corona and stared the dragon down. Takes a monster to defeat a monster, I figured. But what's he doing? He isn't even a unicorn.

The air around Winters began to seethe, blowing his mane and waving his coat as the amulet's magic engulfed him. His red eyes started glowing, and an expression of horror dawned on Corona's face. I couldn't guess what she saw in him, but it had to be quite something.

“You don't serve Luna,” Winters stated. “You serve no Princess. You don't answer to Star Swirl. You belong to me.”

Corona shrunk back like a scared puppy, her blind eyes still set on Winters. She raised one talon to shield her eyes, but her other, twitching talon grabbed it and pulled it down.

The glow of Winters' eyes intensified, engulfing them completely in red-hot flames. “You do as I tell you.”

Corona's fangs chattered, and she shook her head. Her corporeal form gradually turned transparent again.

“I can't allow you to tell Celestia about us. So listen to me, spirit.” He stomped, and Corona trembled like a misbehaving child at the sight of her father's belt. “Kill yourself.”

Corona squealed, but she could not stop herself. She bored one of her talons into her own temple, and clutched her lower jaw with the other – and pulled, all throughout staring at Winters, eyes begging for mercy. Winters watched, stare unbroken and expression hollow.

Her jaw first dislodged, then her spectral skin and ethereal flesh tore, bones breaking with a terrible crunch. As her jaw fell to the floor, her other talon tore her ghostly head apart like a tin can, splattering oily black blood all over the room. Some of it even got onto me – weightless, scentless, and evaporating into nothingness in seconds.

The ghost-dragon froze up, her glow dissipating and form smudging. Light enveloped her, burning in white fire until she was gone entirely.

So that's how a ghost dies.

Behind us, the door flashed with light. Celestia was out there, and she just began unlocking it.

Winters flipped around without missing a beat, tearing the amulet off himself and putting it around the bleeding, half-conscious Flora's neck.

“The portal,” he said. “Open it. Now.” He looked to me. “What are you doing? Grab the gem and let's go.”

I did as I was told. Not that I had much of a choice.

I thrust my hooves through the glowing blue light around the gem – and the aura let me through without resistance. I took the Soul Gem, pulled it out of the blue ball of light, and held it triumphantly for Winters to see.

At the same time, Flora's horn sparked, and the portal to the mirror back in Schweigen's mansion opened in the air. It was tiny and its edges wavered erratically; I could see Flora's horn flickering as she lingered on the brink consciousness.

Winters pulled her over his shoulder and dragged her to the portal. “Hold on now!”

I rushed for the portal as well.

Or rather, I wanted to. I made a single step.

From the Soul Gem, a freezing pain arced across my entire body like cold lightning, shooting up my leg and whipping my spine. My lungs froze over with stabbing pain – it hurt for a split second, but no more.

I remember getting the air knocked out of me and losing my balance, but I can't remember hitting the floor.

Swift Sweep

Though I spent the night watching New Page's empty apartment, even I heard the crash. Half the mountainside collapsed when something apparently went wrong in the lower sections of the Archives. The city remained unharmed; that underground chamber was far enough away that its caving in didn't affect the rest of Canterlot.

That was little consolation, though. I knew the Children of the Night were going to hit the Archives. I chose not to warn anypony, instead casting those records off the mountain when nopony was looking.

Celestia was going to have my head for this. Still, I didn't mind. Maybe this was what Twilit Grotto felt when he was reassigned to White Wolf. A kind of... contentment. I'd much rather have had Celestia make an example out of me than let her do the same to an innocent filly. Or that's what I told myself.

The swelling dust of the collapsed mountain lingered above the city and blotted out the rays of the rising Sun.

Knocking. Lullaby had arrived.

I opened up, fully prepared for the verbal lashing I was going to receive. She had to have figured out what I did – or rather, how I didn't give River that report.

“Hey,” she said, walking in and throwing her saddlebag into the corner. She cocked her head towards the mirror. “Still not home?”

“Still not home.”

“Hm.” She shrugged, dropping into the chair by the mirror. “Oh, by the way...” she pointed back with the tip of her hoof without turning. “Your thing arrived early last night. Before the other thing happened, so lucky that. It's in the bag.”

“My 'thing'?”

She craned her body to turn around, drooping one leg over the backrest. “You know, from the Archives? You asked them to look into New Page.”

“Right.” I turned to sift through her bag, suspicious that she still hadn't unleashed a tirade at me.

“Talk about dropping the ball,” she said. When I looked, she was again looking into the mirror rather than me. “Those guys knew they were coming and they still couldn't protect the Archives. Good thing we won't be the ones to deal with the fallout.”

“Uh-huh, good thing.” I took out the file marked 'Bookworm' and stamped with the Archive's symbol. The file seemed even thinner than I'd expected it to be. “So... I'll just be going.”

“See you when I see you,” Lullaby replied.

I made a cautious step towards the door. No response from her.

I put my hoof on the knob.

“You still there?” she asked, eyes still set on the mirror.

“Just going.”

I left quickly and without looking back. I didn't run – would have been too suspicious, I thought. Still, I walked with hurried steps, all the way to the stump of a cut-down tree in a scarcely-used alley. I sat down there and opened the file. The first thing I found was a tiny note.

“I know you didn't tell him, you grimy wickdeed.

But your secret is safe with me.

For now.

—L”

I rubbed my forehead. Oh, Lullaby.

I put the note aside, looking through the rest of the papers. Not that there was much to look through.

Some of it I'd already known: the body of an infant fitting my recollection of the baby New Page had been found during the clean-up following the Longest Night. Her mother Veiled Quill never reported her child missing or deceased, however. After she was let out of the hospital in near-satisfactory condition, her trail almost entirely vanished too.

She appeared in a number of towns as a passing mention here and there, apparently making her way northwest. Though as time went on, reports of 'Veiled Quill' became rare, being gradually replaced by mares of various names fitting her description... and expecting. It seemed that she started lying about her name when her pregnancy became readily apparent.

She never stayed in the same place for long, either. She'd live on the streets, begging passers-by for food or shelter – using her bulging belly to sway emotions. Occasionally, she'd offer to be a maid or tutor to children in exchange for little to no pay above a warm bed and a bite to eat. A kind of mysterious, travelling saint; had she not changed her name every time she entered a new town, she might have developed a reputation.

There was one report of a mare much like Veiled Quill – apparently with a newborn baby – signing on to serve a noble, doing menial chores around one of his rural mansions. By the records of regular pay, it appeared she stayed there for an extended period of time. The child – a baby filly – was nearly a year old when she left.

And then, finally, Veiled Quill appeared again, with a filly she claimed to be almost two years old, in the distant mountainside town of Horsmouth far in the Northwestern corner of Equestria. That could not have been right, though: by the date, her new foal had to be nearly a year younger than she claimed.

The foal's name... New Page.

Nothing about this made sense.

Not unless—

I flipped back and forth between pages, checking all the available pieces of information against each other. By the baby's approximate birth date, her conception could easily align with the Longest Night. I sincerely doubted Veiled Quill and her husband would have taken the time for intimacy during the Longest Night, especially with a baby already there. In fact, the husband had to be on duty, and Veiled Quill was not a mare to get around.

A thought struck me.

But Night Guards couldn't—

An insane, impossible thought.

Why else would the elusive Priestess Nichts herself come out of hiding to court a nopony like New Page? And I realised, in that moment, who this 'Progeny' was about whom the cultists whispered.

But Veiled Quill needed to be mad to—

Was this why Lullaby didn't turn me in?

Dear stars.

New Page

I rubbed my eyes, sneezing white dust. As I got up, a trail of saliva connected my lips to the bare, grey earth. Anywhere I looked, mist. The only one save for myself was the mare in chains, bound and grinning as she always was.

Nightmare Moon rattled her bindings, and the hooks in her skin pulled her back.

She lunged forward when our eyes met, yanking her chains, tearing her own skin, and I saw the flinch of pain in her eyes – and the insanity she needed to not care. She crawled towards me, inch by inch, the hooks and chains stretching her skin more and more.

She stared into my soul. Her voice cackled inside my head.

I awoke with a gasp and to a sharp pain in my wing.

“Oh, oh!” Winzig squealed. “She's awake, she's awake!” She leaned onto my bed as she looked me over. “Are you alright? Are you okay? Tell me you're alright.”

Oh, just quit yapping.

The door opened, and Winters came in. “Hello there, Page. How are you feeling?”

“Pretty bad.” I rubbed my head. “But I'm not in the mines, so I suppose we made it out okay. That's nice.”

Winters grinned. “Oh, yes. We made it out.”

I looked out the window to see a starry dark sky. “Not the same night, I assume.”

He shook his head. “No. The next one.”

I sighed. “What about Flora?” I glanced at Winzig, who winced like a filly who just heard a naughty word. “Nichts.”

Winters stepped aside, revealing a sleeping Flora at the other end of the room. One of her hind hooves peeked out from under the blanket, but there was no sign of her other hoof.

“We had to get rid of it,” Winters said, gaze falling to the floor. “She will live, but she needs her rest.”

I nodded. “Remind me to thank her when she wakes up. She saved my life back there.”

“Of course. Until then, though, I do owe you some... secrets. If you feel ready to brave the stairs, we can talk more in my study.”

“Sorry,” I said, “but I don't really feel okay being alone with you after... that.”

He cocked his head. “After what?”

“What you did to Corona.”

Winters remained silent for a while, then waved to Winzig. “Thank you for watching her. You may leave now.”

She nodded, stealing one single glance at me before leaving and closing the door behind herself.

“Ashamed?” I asked.

“I'd prefer to spare the children the gory details.”

“You killed a baby.”

“A dragon hatchling. Who was going to kill us.”

“But how? What did you do to it?”

He hung his head. “Nightmare Moon had gifted me with strange powers. I prefer not to use them.” He looked back at me. “I have never used them on you, and I promise never to, if that's what you're concerned about.”

I couldn't help but look at the fangs between his normal teeth. Better than staring into his eyes, anyway. “Why should I trust you?”

“You've trusted me all along.”

“That's a strong word, 'trusted'.”

He walked to the door, opening it. “So why don't you let me, oh, what's the expression? 'Put my money where my mouth is'. Come upstairs, and I'll tell you everything you've ever wanted to know.”

Well, that's why I'm here to begin with. I rolled my eyes. “Fine.”

He led me out the room and up the stairs. Walking came easier than I'd expected. I may have been a little dizzy, and there was a slight pain in my right wing, but not bad enough to get hung up on. I just wanted to get this over with.

Winters unlocked the door of his study and threw the door open. “Ladies first.”

The room was dark, lit only by the light of the candles in the hallway outside. It had no windows, and from the stale smell of candles and ink, the door had been locked for the better part of the day.

“I've been working diligently,” Winters said, dipping the tip of a sulphur stick into the nearest candle in the hallway. The stick caught flame, and Winters brought it inside along with the smell of burning brimstone. He quickly lit the numerous candles inside the study.

With each tiny flame coming to life, a little more of the room became clear in front of my eyes, and I saw all the walls draped with stuck notes and scrolls, books and tomes buried under even more scrolls on every desk, and crumpled papers littering the floor.

Instruments of glass and enchanted gems and precious metals were stacked on a shelf of their own, vats stood filled with substances of various strange colours, and unused oil burners and measuring vessels lay thrown in a corner – a researcher's paradise and massive fire hazard all in one.

Thin red strings connected various spots on the walls: clippings from the newspapers of distant places, hastily scribbled notes, sketches of rural buildings, and cut-outs from many town ledgers.

Some strings hung loose, cut in half or torn by teeth, whilst other red paths branched out in many directions. If you followed the trail of disjointed information as best you could, all of them led to the same spot: a large sketch of a young mare, marked with my own initials of 'N.P.'.

The sketch I found rather flattering – though I thought they made it look a lot better than the real thing. I couldn't help throwing my mane back to resemble it a bit more.

On a table in the centre of the room, a crystal-studded mount held our greatest prize: the Soul Gem that contained a fragment of Princess Luna's very soul.

I hadn't had the time to examine it closely back in the Archives before its magic overpowered my mind and knocked me out. Why I had such a violent reaction to it – or indeed, to the Alicorn Amulet made with a patch of Nightmare Moon's hair – remained for the time being a mystery to me.

I cast Winters a questioning glance, and he smiled back in turn, raising his eyebrows at the Soul Gem. It was a ball of white crystal, entirely opaque, but with a dancing light inside it. It did not move like the flame of a candle; rather like some sort of insect, a tiny speck of light trapped inside the crystal that zipped around frantically.

“She always does that when the lights come on,” Winters said with a smile. “She'll settle.”

I leaned onto the table to take a closer look at this thing that I'd risked my life to get. When I did, however, an indescribable sense of dread washed over me, making me pull away in fright. The light inside stopped, sticking to the inner surface of the crystal closest to me. As I walked around the table, the light tracked me like a watchful eyeball.

I didn't want to stare at it any more. Looking up at that sketch of me, I questioned Winters, “I don't suppose you want me to put it all together on my own. You know who I am, you know why I have this connection to Luna.” I looked at him. “Explain.”

Winters looked into the Soul Gem. “Based on my preliminary analysis of the gem, I think I know who – what – you are.” He looked me in the eye. “I've suspected it for a long time, but... you're not going to like it.”

“I've gone far out of my way to help you, Winters.” I stepped up to him, coming up half a head taller than him. The monster that had stared a dragon into ending her own life shrunk away from me.

“I don't want you to dance around it any more,” I said. “Just tell me, plainly. Why do I have the dreams?”

“Your mother is Veiled Quill, a survivor of the Longest Night.” He turned around, putting the tip of his hoof at my sketch on the wall. “Tell me, how old are you? Where were you born?”

“I just turned twenty, and I was born in the Old City.” I took a quick look around the room. “I expect you knew that already.”

He ran his hoof along one of the red strings, walking by the wall to follow it. He stopped after a few branches and prodded the header of a torn page pinned to the wall. “The Old City was one of the first to have a standing hospital in Equestria. They weren't particularly good at record-keeping, but they did record births.” He tore the paper off and gave it to me.

I looked it over quickly. It was a simple form, printed in a cheap office by the look of it, the blanks filled in by barely legible writing that probably belonged to some obstetrician. Squinting hard enough, I could make out my name – New Page – as well as Mama's and Papa's, Veiled Quill and Silver Spearhead.

“It's a record of my birth,” I said. “I see nothing wrong with it.”

“Don't you?”

I furrowed my brows, unable to guess what he meant. I buried my gaze in the horrible hoof-writing of the certificate. I scanned it once and twice, but everything seemed to line up. Only on my third, more careful read, did I notice something my eyes always skipped before.

The description of the baby. 'New Page' was apparently a pegasus filly; this much I'd been figuring. But her colours! A pale blue with red mane, and a prominent, dark-blue spot where her neck met her chest.

“I don't look like that,” I thought out loud. Catching myself, I looked up at Winters. “I suppose my colours could've changed?”

“From blue-red to brown-grey?” he asked. “Don't be ridiculous.”

“Look, I'm Mama's only child.”

“That you are.” He turned, again sliding the tip of his hoof along the red strings, going from parchment to parchment. He tore off another piece for me. “From just after the Longest Night.”

This one was a list of dead ponies, giving names where it could, an age exact or approximate, and the body's condition, most of it far too gruesome for me to read. Somewhere in the lower-middle, one entry had been circled with: an unidentified baby, but a few weeks old, and a perfect match for 'New Page'. Found at the foot a noble's mansion, bones broken and organs ruptured from an apparent fall.

I stuffed the paper back into his hoof without attempting to hide my disgust. “What are you getting at here?”

Rather than answer, he merely flipped and got another piece of paper.

A hospital report of one Veiled Quill. Bruises on the neck and all over her head, patchy coat and bite marks over her entire upper body, and... 'foreign humours' and 'severe signs of trauma' in her 'nether regions'.

I knew about this. I learned about this, all the atrocities committed by the Night Guards during the Longest Night. Ponies tortured, forcibly pitted against one another for amusement, bound in chains and dragged around as slaves for entertainment or carnal pleasure, and much more that few survivors ever wanted to relate.

My mother never did talk about the Longest Night.

Oh, Mama...

“So...” I said, unable to tear my gaze from the paper. “Are you saying that...” I licked my lips. “But Night Guards were infertile. Celestia actually lets them teach that.”

“Nightmare Moon's magic is capable of many impossible things.” He struck a pose, showing off his body and flashing his fangs. “Why do you think Corona mistook you for Luna? Why could you touch the Soul Gem when Nichts could not?”

My stomach churned, and the world began to turn around me. I let the paper fall from my hoof. I needed to cover my mouth anyway.

“Your fa—” He stopped mid-word. “The monster that made you was a Night Guard. He held a piece of Luna's soul inside of him. And now, so do you.”

The stuffy air of the study became too stiff to bear. I gasped and did my best to keep breathing, but the world spun on. I rushed out of the room, falling against the wall of the hallway. The air was a bit better there. I brushed my mane out of my eyes.

“This is why you have the dreams,” came Winters' voice. “They are not dreams at all. The mare in chains is no figment of your imagination, but Nightmare Moon herself. It is her soul, locked permanently in the Moon, unable to speak, to act, to live.”

I felt a hoof under my chin. Slowly, Winters turned me towards his eyes.

“When you dream of her, it is that tiny, infinitely diluted part of Nightmare Moon's soul still inside of you that is trying to reconnect. It bangs on the glass, desperate to reunite with its former self, and Nightmare Moon bangs back. But sheer force of will is not enough to break the shackles created by the Elements of Harmony. Not even Nightmare Moon can do that.”

“And I'm supposed to believe this, this bunk?” I spat on the floor. “That I'm some sort of chosen one?”

“You were not the only one.”

“Oh yeah?” I took a deep breath, straightening myself. “So why me?”

He turned, walking back into the study. After a little hesitation, I followed – paying attention to keep the door wide open.

“I've spent fifteen years looking for your kind,” Winters said, pulling out a drawer stuffed with papers. He rummaged through, then gave me a bunch clipped together. “It took me five to even confirm my suspicion that ponies like you exist. But I was too late.”

Just as I brought the stack of papers to my eyes, Winters reached to flip through them, pointing his hoof to the middle of the last page.

“Born after a failed abortion, Ariel was given into state care. She could never walk, never spoke, and ended her own life not long after her seventh birthday.”

He sifted through the drawer below the previous one, and took out a solitary piece of paper and put it in my hoof.

“A report of a disfigured baby,” he read, “born at just the right time after the Longest Night. Note the half-formed leathery wings, the oversized ears, and the popping eyes with slit pupils.” He took the paper back and stuffed it into the drawer again. “She died without a name on her second day.”

He pulled out the lowest drawer, and gave me one last stack of papers. “Rubyshine was born a healthy pegasus to a family willing to welcome her. They knew who the father was, but dared not reveal it for the good of the baby. She quickly grew into a problem child, however. She would kick at her father when he tried to hold her, and she'd bite her mother when she nursed her. She beat other children and refused to study or work.”

He flipped through the pages in my hoof.

“When she was seventeen, she was arrested for the murder of four little colts. I arrived in town on the day of her hanging. Before they kicked the stool from under her, her last words were a violent tirade about Nightmare Moon breaking free of her chains.” He lowered his head, shaking it. “I have not found any others.”

Winters took the papers and set them on a desk. Then he stepped up before me, back straight and chin raised. Once again our difference in size became readily apparent.

“Do you see?” he asked. “You are a miracle.”

I looked away, at the sketch of myself on the wall. With my gaze, I followed one of the red strings, finding a paper titled 'BIRTH'. I went to tear it off: a clipping from the annual, now-defunct newspaper 'Western Equestria'.

The date suggested that I had indeed been conceived around the time of the Longest Night. A mare who refused to give her name went into labour on the streets of a little town called Nachthengst, not too far from Horsmouth. A local midwife rushed to help her, and after a few painful hours, a baby that looked just like me was born.

“Mama...” I mumbled. “You mad, mad mare.”

She could never accept what happened. That was the only explanation. She pretended. She weaved this heroic tale of Papa giving his life to protect us. She gave birth to a bastard child, and acted like none of it happened. That's why she moved so far, all the way to Horsmouth; she didn't want anypony to recognise her. She didn't want the past to catch up to her.

She'd been lying to me all my life; she'd been lying to everypony. I wondered if she'd ever convinced herself. Did she still believe it? Did she ever?

Winters put his hoof on my shoulder. “You wanted an answer.”

“Yeah,” I said, letting go of the paper. “And now I've got it.”

Turning, I walked outside again. I didn't care for the stuffy air now, or the persistent aching in my right wing. I just wanted to go home. I walked down the hallway step by slow step, feeling every little creak in the wood under my hooves.

Winters didn't follow me – his voice came from the doorway even when I was halfway to the stairs. “Will you be okay?”

“Fine,” I replied, staring only forwards. At the top of the stairs, I stopped to turn to him. “I got you your little toy. Enjoy it. Don't care what you do with it. I want nothing more to do with you ponies.” I looked forwards again, making my first, shaking step down the stairs. “Give Nichts my thanks.”

Straight Mare, Funny Mare

Princess Luna

It was late at night, and the stars were blocked by dark clouds. Even the Moon didn't shine through. I was in complete darkness. I was in complete silence.

But I was not alone.

I could tell. I felt her eyes on me. She was standing at the foot of the bed. I knew she couldn't be there. If I had turned my head, I'd have found that there's nothing there. But I was too afraid to turn my head.

When I slept, she peered into my dreams.

I was out on the hill again, but the Moon was silent. She wasn't in the Moon; she was right behind me. When I turned to look, she hid in the grass so that I couldn't see her.

When I took a step, I could hear her moving too.

I was eating my dinner, locked alone in the cellar in hopes that I would not be disturbed. She hid behind a long shelf, and when I looked, she hopped behind another one so that I couldn't find her.

When I lifted a bite to my mouth, she asked if I would share.

I stood in a field of flowers, under the shining Sun, hoping that its light would drive her away. She took refuge in the shadow of a tree, hiding behind the trunk when I looked her way.

When my head was turned, I could hear her sing to me.

The thunder of her hooves crushed my dreams into nightmares and ground my hopes into sorrow. I felt the warmth of her breath on my neck and I heard the chattering of her teeth at my ears. She was behind every door I opened and outside every window I looked. She was in my home and in my room and in my mind.

I've gone mad.

New Page

I brought a candle from home so I wouldn't have to mess around with the tinderbox at Papa's grave. One by one, I touched the candle's flame to the wick of each tealight.

Oh, Papa...

So you couldn't protect us after all.

A few rows of graves above, that grumpy old stallion sat before the same grave where I'd seen him last time. I wouldn't bother him now.

I turned my attention instead to the weeds growing on and all around the grave. Stubborn little things. I'd just pulled them out the other day. I dug them up again, chewing on a few in boredom and frustration, and even lighting a particularly long stalk on fire from a tealight. Gave me something to watch, that.

Sitting in front of the grave, I put my forehead against the headstone and closed my eyes. It was an odd feeling, convening with this dead stallion across the decades.

If you'd have protected Mama... I would not be here.

My wing still hurt; I'd woken up with a bunch of feathers in my bed. Though I hadn't noticed it at the time, but that tiny spark of dragonfire had burned right through my plumage and quite deep into my flesh. Cauterised the wound, too, so I barely bled.

I rubbed my forehead against the headstone, feeling its rough surface brush my coat away and rub against my skin. I had my answer. I knew why the Mare in the Moon had always been so special to me, and why she visited my dreams. Or rather, why I visited her in my sleep, if what Winters said was indeed true.

Was it true? I had no reason to believe him. All of those papers might as well have been fake. It would've been easier to believe that he lied, or that he was merely crazy. Yet I knew, deep down inside, that he was right.

I had the dream again last night. The mare in chains smiled at me as she always did, but somehow differently. It was a sly smirk – a snide, knowing look. In my dreams, I'd never been scared of her. Not until now.

She terrified me. I didn't like the Mare in the Moon any more.

Wings fluttered above – and somepony landed behind me. “Excuse me,” said a deep voice.

I quickly straightened myself, rubbing my forehead and brushing my mane back before turning. “Y-yes?”

It was the stallion from before, with the grey coat and greyer mane and a scar on his cheek.

“I...” he began, but stopped. His eyes danced towards the grave, and he bit his lip; he lingered there for a moment before looking back to me. “I would like to apologise.”

Swift Sweep

New Page took me to the Pristine Pillars: some run-down tavern in the poor part of the city which had clearly seen better days. Open all hours of every day, the tavern welcomed the guests after – or in place of – a day of hard work, offering a place to rest tired bones that nopony cared about and drown the knowledge of their pointless existence in the cheapest alcohol bits could buy.

Where the faded tapestry wasn't torn outright, it hung slack; whatever glue that once held it to the wall had long since given out to the sweaty vapours of the tavern. Vines and flowers carved in stone encircled the pillars that held a similarly decorated ceiling, though anything that would have protruded would have been long broken off, the exquisite decoration vandalised and scraped away by bored patrons or the marring touch of time itself.

Black patches of mould grew around an obvious crack in the ceiling; the place must have been fun in the rain. Chafings furrowed the table on my side: the marks of a nervous guest playing with their knife once upon a time, perhaps.

The tavern resonated with an aura of serenity, maybe even superiority in a way: come and behold as this wonder of a building dilapidates into a meeting place for the lowest of the low. Misery loves company after all, and by the look of it, if the Pristine Pillars had been a pony, he would have liked very much to visit the Pristine Pillars.

Through the reflection of an empty glass, I watched the door swing open as a swaying stallion barged in, bellowing a bittersweet song and crashing into the bar. He mumbled something to the barkeep about a son taken away and pain in his heart, and the barkeep pushed him off the bar with a weary sigh and the eyes of somepony who had seen this scene too many times before.

“Are you okay?” New Page asked.

I looked up from my glass, at the concerned mare on the other side of the table. “I am.”

“Are you always this fidgety?”

“Fidgety?”

The barkeep came over and lifted the empty glass from our table. “So, what'll it be?”

New Page turned to him with a beaming smile, clopping her front hooves together. “Say, have you got any more of that lovely Zebrican tea?”

He nodded. “I'll brew a kettle for you.” He turned to me. “And you, friend?”

Back down in HQ, provisions were handled by a separate team dedicated to ensuring we never had to interact with the general public, or even come to the surface. Let's just say I wasn't used to ordering food. By the look the barkeep gave me, I took a moment too long to respond.

“Uh, I'll have what she is.”

“It'll be a few minutes.”

Stepping over the drunk who still hadn't scooped himself together, the barkeep walked behind the bar and disappeared through a door to the back.

Though it was just us in the tavern, I still felt inclined to whisper. “Zebrican tea sounds a tad expensive for a place like this. How much do they water it down?”

New Page rolled her eyes. “A lot. And I'm fairly sure it's from Germaneigh.”

“You're humouring their horrible business with your bits. In fact, you're spending your scholarship on this. That's Celestia's money you're wasting.”

“Is it waste if I like it?” She shrugged. “You didn't answer my question, er, Swift Sweep, was it?”

“What question?”

“Are you always like this? You're shaking.”

Am I? I did my best to stop. The last time I'd been to a bar of any kind, I smashed my mug over the bartender's head and took off with his bit chest. Now here I sat with... her. It was a lot to take in.

There was no law against an old dog coming to the surface and talking to ponies. And if I thought I might further Project Bookworm by getting to know my mark, I had all the right to do as I wished; Celestia did not care for the details of our work as long as we got it done. She doesn't ask, so she doesn't know. Technically I was supposed to ask Lullaby, with she being the project's leader.

Ah, but I was sure she wouldn't mind.

New Page waved a hoof in front of me. “Anypony home?”

“Not... always,” I blurted. “I'm sorry. I'm going through a... difficult time. That's why I was so rude with you when we first... met.” I did not like those pauses. The more I looked into her eyes, the less my words flowed. “It's been eating away at me. You came off as a nice enough sort.”

She grinned. “I'll book that as one of the strangest yet most sincere compliments I've ever received. And I understand, I really do. I think I've told you I study history.”

“You have.”

“So I know...” She put a hoof to her mouth, shook her head, then went on. “I mean, I don't know-know, but I have an idea of what you must have gone through. I imagine the Summer Sun Celebration is a grim reminder.”

You know nothing! screamed my mind as I took a deep, calming breath.

“But...” she went on, looking away for a second. “If you don't want to talk about those days, I perfectly understand. Truth is, I insisted we come here because I'm also going through a rough time, and you came up to me, and I don't really have anypony to talk to, and now I'm just babbling like an idiot and I apologise.”

With how open and sincere New Page was, I wondered how she kept her secrets as long as she had. Putting 'working with the Children of the Night' as 'a rough time', too... an odd duck, the mare.

I had no doubts that she was involved in the break-in at the Archives. The mountainside reportedly collapsed after severe structural damage by dragonfire – and New Page had done a bad job of hiding the obvious burn on her wing.

“What trouble could you possibly be in, kid?” I asked, making my best impression of an ignorant old fool. “Broke up with your boyfriend?”

She scoffed. “I wish that was my biggest problem in life.”

The barkeep returned with the handle of a steaming kettle between his teeth. He put it down on our table – all bare, no cloth or tray – then turned to pick off a pair of cups for us from the bar. Though they were dripping wet from their last wash, on the bottom of mine I noticed dry flakes of whatever used to be in it.

He poured us each a cupful. “Ther' y' go,” he mumbled around the handle in his mouth.

“Thank you,” New Page said, sending him a wide smile for emphasis. I realised, now, how fake it was.

I nodded my thanks to the barkeep, and he went to mop up the crumpled, crying drunk on the floor.

New Page took her cup with both hooves and looked into the dark tea. “I lost an old friend, actually. Among other things.”

“I'm sorry for your loss.”

She looked up, giving an apologetic look. “I mean, it's not like she's dead or something. I just... cut ties. We've been through a lot, she and I, but I... I realised it was better to stay away from her.” She looked back into her tea. “It feels like I've betrayed her.”

I wanted to know more about this friend of hers, though I already had an idea of who she was talking about. I figured it would be better to first loosen her tongue by earning her trust, though.

That's what I told myself: I was there to find out more, nothing else. I refused to admit that I wanted to get to know her, to really know her.

“You told me you were interested in the Longest Night,” I said, to which New Page looked up. “I saw a Night Guard do something. Something terrible.” I licked my lips. My heart pounded away at my chest – I couldn't believe I was saying any of this, even if none of it was true. “I did not stop him. I could have, but I chose not to. I became a monster that night.”

I sniffled, feeling tears begin to swell in my eyes. That was not on purpose. I blinked the resurging memories away.

New Page reached towards me, putting her hoof onto the table. “It's not your fault. There would have been no use playing hero.”

She looked into my eyes with such honesty – such an innocent sincerity – that I almost began to believe her myself. It wasn't my fault, was it? It was Nightmare Moon's.

There I went, shifting the blame again. Denying what I did. No good had ever come of that.

“I lost a friend,” I continued. “In fact, he was more like a father to me. He's gone, and it's my fault.”

“Gone, as in—”

“You've seen his grave.”

“Swift, I'm sorry.”

She reached further with her hoof, putting it on mine.

I jerked away as though touched by hot iron, leaning back. Slowly, she retracted her hoof.

“Don't be sorry. I moved on.” I was used to stacking lies upon lies. I was not used to caring. “I don't know what your friend did to make you hate her, but you can always move on.”

She looked behind her shoulder – there was nopony there – then perked her ear towards the barkeep and the drunk. They were off in a far corner, the drunk's muzzle buried in an overturned, frothy mug. The barkeep listened eagerly to his next order.

New Page leaned closer. “She has actually...” She sighed, pulling back. “I don't know. I don't even like thinking about it. The point is she asked me to do bad things. Things Celestia wouldn't approve of.”

I smirked. “But you've declined time and time again, I take it.”

She slammed a hoof on the table. “Of course I have!” Her voice rang with a desperation – a faux-indignation – I'd learned to recognise from all the ponies I'd interrogated. Seeing my grin, though, her expression also softened, and a little smile appeared. “Were you expecting a different answer?”

You could already be rotting in the mines, if you weren't you, and I weren't I. “Not at all.”

She lifted her cup, ears still turned towards me. The tea was nearly black, and it stained her already dark coat around her mouth as she drank. She had to lick her lips clean after every other sip. A few hairs of her mane dangled over her eyes, eyes just like those of her mother that I'd seen beg and plead for mercy.

I felt the weight of the baby in my hooves again – how it was barely there at all. Nightmare Moon's laughter overpowered the screams of Veiled Quill. I dragged her onto the bed, and I—

“What?” she asked, putting her cup down.

I cast my gaze down at my own cup.

She was the only good thing I'd ever given Equestria.

As I thought about that, a feeling of sickness washed over me. I did not 'give' anything; I'd merely forced her unto the world. Who was I to sit there with her? That I dared ever show my face to her was a testament to my own depravity.

I thought I'd managed to block out the guilt, yet now it burned inside of me as it did at the Breaking of Dawn. I sought to douse the flames for twenty years, and for twenty years I'd failed time and time again.

Let me throw oil into the fire now. Let it burn.

I rubbed my eyes. I hadn't cried since that dawn, and I wasn't going to start now. Not in front of her, anyway.

“I'd like to be young again,” I said. “I'd do things differently. Look at me.”

I turned my hooves up. They were worn from rigorous training and many nights spent on them, cracked from brawls and arrests. They were old pony hooves, fitting for somepony decades my elder. Usually, I preoccupied myself by judging other ponies; I'd learned to delight in tormenting the monsters. I'd never considered what I might look like in their eyes.

It's easy to think yourself above the rest when you never look in a mirror.

I put my hooves down with a weary sigh. “I hate what I've become.”

She reached forward again, but this time, she didn't touch my hoof. “If you ever want to talk, I'm here to listen.”

I snorted. “You have no idea who I am, lady.”

“Maybe that's for the best,” she replied. “I can't judge you that way.”

I looked into my cup again. After a minute of silence, I took a sip.

“So you want to be young again?” she asked. “Whatever you did, you did because you didn't know what was to come. And you know that great, great unknown? That's still ahead of me.”

She downed the last gulp of her tea. “I might just be a kid to you, but it's important to be 'just a kid' at some point. I'm discovering who I am.” She leaned to the side a little and looked under the table. “For better or worse, at least you've already got that figured out. Or at least you're a heck of a lot closer to it than I am. How did you get it?”

“Get what?” It took me a second to realise she was eyeing my cutie mark.

I needed to take a look at my flank myself to remember what my mark was. A grey paintbrush, the tip dipped in red. I barely remembered how I got it, it'd been so long.

I made a picture for my mother with a brush borrowed from the kid next door and improvised dye made from squashed berries from a bush down the path.

As I looked at my mark, that rush of excitement surged inside me, the same rush I'd felt when it first appeared. But of course, Mother was just angry that I wasted paper, because paper wasn't cheap. Father needed it for his work... whatever it was. That was the last time I painted anything. In my time as a juvenile delinquent and hooligan, what stolen paintings I couldn't sell, I tore up with immense glee.

I'd all but forgotten about it when I was turned into a Night Guard; Luna's magic transformed not just our bodies and souls, but our marks as well. Mine became a rusty iron cage with a broken side, and I recalled being proud of that. I broke free from my old life. Or that's how I interpreted it, anyway.

When my mark returned after Celestia 'cleansed' us, I only missed the cage.

“I... discovered my talent quite late,” I said. “No big story there. I woke up one day and realised that was what I wanted to do. My mother always told me that I had a knack for capturing what others couldn't.”

New Page rested her chin on her hooves, ears turning eagerly forward. “So you're a painter?”

“Was. I hadn't painted since the Longest Night. Lost the spark.” Loathed myself as I may have, lying had never been difficult. Maybe that should've become my cutie mark.

She cocked her head. “So what do you do, if I may ask?”

“I'm a janitor.” I smirked. “I'm good at sweeping.”

Raising a hoof to hide her eyes, she looked down and shook her head. She couldn't suppress her giggling. And it felt good, having made her laugh. I stole a peek at her cutie mark: a half-filled parchment with a waxing Moon behind it.

“So what about you?” I asked. “I hope you don't think less of me because I looked there.”

“Nature's a funny beast.” She looked at her flank briefly before turning back to me. “You know that friend I mentioned, the one I cut ties with? I got lost in the woods with her once. Her granny told her about this wonderful pool somewhere in Equestria, and she was convinced it'd be nearby. Guess if it was.”

“I'd wager not.”

“Ding! We were gone days, not sure how many. But we managed to get back home. She was too scared to talk, so of course I had to explain it. And I weaved this story about, gosh...” She rubbed her reddening cheek, looking up. “Something about how I went off on a journey to go to the Moon, and how she tried to turn me back. The point is that I took responsibility. Next thing I know, this here appeared.” She slapped her flank. “Apparently I'm a great storyteller.”

There's a cutie mark for lying, then. “And you study history?”

She nodded, a smile overtaking her face. “I think it's fascinating. You can't begin to imagine how glad I am for this chance to talk, by the way. It's very difficult to find anypony who honestly talks about the past. It feels like everypony just wants it gone.”

“Is it any wonder, given what lies there?”

Her smile faltered and turned into a frown. “We can't let what happened destroy our future. Princess Luna betrayed us. The Longest Night happened. We can't stick our heads in the sand here.” An angry pout appeared on her lips as she leaned back, gaze dancing the other way. She crossed her hooves. “It just... it makes me so angry. Like, even Celestia won't talk about it. Are we just going to pretend it didn't happen, or try to learn from it?”

I looked back. The drunk had apparently left, and by the uninterested look on the barkeep's face, he was used to these sorts of outburst. Nopony else inside.

“If you'd have said that somewhere else, you might be in trouble.”

Her legs tensed, and she crossed her hooves tighter over her chest. “It shouldn't be illegal to talk about the past.” She sent me a piercing stare. “I study it, remember? On Celestia's money, no less.” Letting her hooves fall, she sighed. “I study what she lets me study.”

“You kids don't grasp what it was like.”

She jumped from her seat, throwing her front hooves onto the table. “So help me grasp it. Talk to me about it. I want to know.”

A youthful fire burned behind her eyes; a rebellious flame, its torch held high by a mare who knew she was being lied to. There had been a time when I had such passion – though I'd directed that energy towards things far different from studying.

“So you want to know about the Longest Night?”

“Yes!” she burst.

“Why?”

She threw herself back into her chair. “Bad things happened, I know. But I want to know why. Why did Luna betray us? Why did the Night Guards turn on us? Why won't Celestia talk about it? Anything you can tell me... anything you feel allowed to tell me.”

I shook my head. “What makes you think I know any more than you do?”

She smirked. “Well, you can't know any less, can you?”

“There's nothing I can tell you.”

She hung her head, letting a groan seep out between her gritted teeth. She banged her hoof on the table a few times, then looked up, nodding. “Fine. I get it. Big damn secret. Nopony knows anything, especially not those who were there, least of all Celestia. Guess we'll never find out why it happened.” She looked out the window, squinting into the Sun. “Looks like it's time for me to go, too. Got classes to attend.”

She got up to leave, throwing a pouch of bits onto the table. As she walked beside me, I put out a hoof to stop her.

“It might surprise you, but I didn't know Princess Luna personally. That's why I have nothing to tell you. That's why nopony has anything to tell you. But I was one of the ponies who didn't flee the Old City. I was there the entire two weeks.”

I lowered my hoof; New Page didn't go anywhere. I got up, coming level with her.

“Maybe we can piece something together, provided we meet again.”

She grinned. “I'm at the Archives all evening.”

“I'd prefer to meet here,” I replied, looking towards the barkeep. In turn, he rolled his eyes and pinned his ears back in a gesture of goodwill. “There are fewer listening ears here. What do you say, New Page?”

“Page,” she said. “Please, just Page.” She turned the other way, prodding a hoof towards the door. “But I really have to go.”

“One last thing, Page.” With a wing, I brushed her pouch of bits off the table and into my hoof, giving it over to her. “You don't think I'm going to let you pay, do you?”

I thought I knew why I was doing it. Earn her trust, get close to her, find out more. The truth was – even if I refused to admit it – I'd already made up my mind that she was innocent. I wanted her to be innocent, even though I knew she was far from it.

For days, we would meet and talk. About the Longest Night, at first, then the conversation would always and inevitably wander elsewhere. Though she knew to keep her mouth shut about her involvement with the Children of the Night, I got the feeling she didn't really know who they were, and that she had done her best to cut ties with them after the break-in at the Star Swirl the Bearded Wing.

At nightfall, I'd retreat to that unfurnished hole above her apartment – making sure that she didn't see – and listen to Lullaby's scolding. She was far too kind to turn me in, but far too proud to let this go on without a word. We had all the evidence we needed; we could have turned New Page in any minute of the day.

The thought of the EBSS getting its vile hooves on her terrified me. I knew what my organisation did to those affiliated with the Children of the Night, having ordered – and done – horrible things myself. First the interrogation, endless and unrelenting. In our interrogation rooms, hours quickly become days and weeks; sooner or later, the interviewees' mental faculties fail.

Hoof vices, wing sprainers, hanging by the tail, solitary confinement, potions that numb the mind and loosen the tongue – I'd come to learn that everypony breaks under torture. I wondered how long it would take for New Page to start talking. How long would I need to watch?

I have seen it happen countless times, and I enjoyed it. I never did stop being a monster.

Page was different from the others.

She had to be, else I would have had her arrested. That's how I justified it.

I shuddered to think what Celestia might do to me if she ever found out. But as long as Page kept away from the Children of the Night, and Lullaby kept my secret, I was safe. Page was safe. To her, I was not Swift Sweep the Monster. I was Swift Sweep, painter on extended break. Indeed, I'd created an entirely separate pony, a guise to wear, a mask behind which to cower. And it was comfortable. I wished it was the real me.

“Hey,” said Page, putting down her teacup. “You're smiling.”

I raised my brows. “I smile all the time.”

“No. You smirk,” she said, making faces to accompany her words, “and you grin. You make those weird crooked smiles that old stallions do. Haven't never seen you smile like a normal pony.”

“Well, first times for everything.” I emptied my cup. “Is your wing alright, by the way?”

On a patch of her right wing, feathers hung broken and scrubbed away, revealing blistery, discoloured skin. It had been getting worse these past days, and now it seemed bad enough that I decided to mention it. I was still convinced it was the mark of dragonfire, but then, I didn't know dragonfire to cause such lasting injuries. I wasn't a doctor, but that didn't look like an ordinary burn. Not any more.

“It's fine, it's fine,” she replied, waving her hooves. “I just slipped on the mountainside up there and got a nasty rash. It'll heal.”

It may have been her special talent, but she didn't do too well at lying.

“Anyway,” she blurted, “what was that about Luna being depressed?”

“Oh, that was just hearsay, really.” That, and us Night Guards could sense the shift in her mental state. None of us could foresee what was about to happen, however. “From servants at the Old Castle. Luna was supposedly behaving strangely for years, and it started becoming apparent to everypony around her in the months leading up to the Longest Night. I was friends with a chef, actually. He told me he'd found Luna curled up in the corner of some cellar sobbing violently when he went down to get some ingredients.”

And that wasn't even a lie.

“Apparently some sort of panic attack,” I finished.

“Wow,” said Page, eyes going wide. “Celestia had to know about this.”

“She definitely did.” I leaned closer, going on in a conspiratorial whisper. Page leaned in as well and perked her ears. “You know how she's going back and forth on curfew laws. And why do you think she has two thrones? Because she feels guilty. She could have stopped the Longest Night from happening, if only she had been a better sister.”

My chest pounded and my lips wavered as I finished that sentence. That was the first time since I first became a Night Guard that I said anything bad about Celestia out loud. Not that I hadn't had the thoughts – but I always dismissed them. Celestia offered us redemption through service in the EBSS; for many of us, she became atonement personified, a perfect being that could do no wrong and might lead us to redemption.

I'd always known, rationally, that was not the case. Yet it was Celestia who gave me a new life, and it had been she who pulled Equestria to her hooves after the Longest Night. I respected her goals because they were noble; I ignored her means because I could not live with myself any other way.

With Page sitting in front of me, I didn't feel like I needed her.

“In any case,” I said, leaning back, “there were a few similar stories about Luna. The Senate attacked her relentlessly for 'forgiving criminals'. You know, the Night Guards?” Page nodded. “The common ponies were afraid of her and her night whilst Celestia basked in glory.”

Page gave a sombre nod. “So she cracked.”

“Maybe she decided she'd give everypony a reason to fear her.”

Resting her cheek on a hoof, she looked out the window at Canterlot's spires. “To think that might be it. The immortal Princess of the Night, and she was still just like you and me. Insecure, frail, weak. It's terrifying.”

I looked outside too, up at Celestia's tower. “They're not like us, the alicorns. At least I don't think they are.”

She pushed her chair out. “Well, there's a discussion for next time. Seems like it's getting late. I need to be at the university by noon.”

“I'll be here.” Turning, I started rummaging in my bag, looking for my bit pouch.

“Oh, no,” said Page. “You've been paying all these times. I'm going to do it now.” She raised her hoof to catch the barkeep's eyes, holding up a linen poutch filled with coins.

“Look, I can't have you—”

“Yes,” she cut in. “Yes, you can. Look. We're friends. It's not like you're trying to woo me, right? Let me pay.” The barkeep walked over and took the pouch, opening it to start counting. Page leaned towards me. “Hey, it's Celestia's money, remember?”

As if my pay wasn't. “Suit yourself.”

She turned to the barkeep. “Is there enough in there?”

“Yeah,” he grumbled, hefting the pouch.

He walked back behind the counter and emptied the appropriate amount – or perhaps a little more – into a chest. Then he put the pouch onto the counter for Page to grab as we left.

She convinced me to walk her to her apartment. 'You need to get out of that stuffy pub', she told me.

As much as I liked spending time with her, I did not like being seen in public in her company. I knew well enough that the EBSS watched everything.

We climbed the steep incline along the mountain, passing by several doors just like hers. The path snaked and branched and forked, taking sudden turns and twists; evidently not much planning had gone to designing this place. I always wondered how long it would be before they get rid of these apartments entirely. Couldn't have them hurting the city's image, after all.

I knew exactly where her door was, of course. I feigned surprise when we arrived. As Page buried her muzzle in her saddlebag looking for her key, I took a moment to look around and enjoy the view.

I heard her before I saw her: high-pitched, a little wheezy, and a touch too loud for her own good.

“Does she live here?” the mare asked loudly. She stood some ten-fifteen paces away, sticking her head into a barely-open doorway. On her back, a sizeable traveller's bag. “Look, Miss...” She pulled her head back, reading the name on the door. “Mrs Pinegreens, aren't you her neighbour? What do you mean you don't know anything?”

Page's head emerged from her bag, a thick metal key between her lips. As she looked at the older mare nearby, the key slipped and fell right back into the saddlebag.

“Mama?” she asked. “Mama!”

The mare turned, and Mrs Pinegreens' door slammed shut. Page ran to greet her, skipping and laughing along the path.

“Page!” The mare braced herself – in a second, Page leapt at her and embraced her tightly, brushing her cheek against Veiled Quill's.

“I thought you wouldn't be here for days.”

“Train came early.”

Page stepped to the side and began undoing the latches on Veiled Quill's large bag. “By the stars and the Moon, you carried all this?”

She elbowed her chest. “Nothing this old gal can't handle.”

“Mama, you can can barely even fly any more.”

As Page took off her bag and threw it over her own – her legs visibly shook under the weight – her mother fluttered her wings and paced in place for a moment.

“My legs are still fine,” Veiled Quill said. “Plus, a nice stud hauled my cart all the way to Nachthengst so I could get on the train.”

“One day, Mama,” Page chortled. “They're gonna finish the train line. Then you can get on right at Horsmouth, no need to travel halfway across Equestria for it.”

She groaned. “Hah, maybe in a thousand years. Anyway, which door is—” She paused and flinched as if in fright, eyes going wide. “What's happened to your wing?”

“It's nothing, Mama. I tripped because I wasn't watching my step.” She took her hoof. “This way, Mama.” The pair turned and began walking back towards Page's door.

Towards me. And I just stood there, staring like a bumbling fool. When Veiled Quill reached me and looked at me with eyes full of judgement, it was like a sledgehammer slamming into my chest. My mind froze, and my hooves sprouted roots. I did my best to keep breathing, at the very least – and not look like an idiot in the meanwhile.

“So...” Veiled Quill said, looking me over. “Is he at least rich?”

Page covered her face, but she couldn't hide the redness. “Mama, no.”

“What?” She brushed the tip of her wing up Page's back. “I've been telling you to get a nice stallion for yourself. How are things with that guy, what's his name, Storming Descent?”

“Falls, Mama. Storming Falls. And I don't... I mean I'm not...” With a groan, she stuck her face into her own bag again, fishing out her key. “Le'ss juss' drop it, a'ight?” she mumbled around the key as she put it in the lock.

She kicked the door open and spat the key back in her bag. “I'm sorry about the mess.” She turned to me, lowering her voice. “And I'm sorry about Mama. She's lovely, but she's, well... she's Mama.” She sent Veiled Quill an apologetic smile, then turned back to me. “I wouldn't want to make you feel uncomfortable. I'm sure you've got stuff to do.”

“Y-yes,” I said. “Yeah. I do. I should really go. Do stuff.”

Veiled Quill stepped up to me. She had to get on the tips of her hooves to be able to wrap a leg around my shoulder. Then she wrangled me down to her level. “Nah, your friend can stay. I'd love to get to know him.” She knocked my chest with her other hoof and gave me the smile of a murderer who had found her next victim.

“Mama, I've only known him for a few days, and he's just helping me study, it's nothing like that.”

She let me go, but even afterwards I could feel her touch burn my skin.

“So there shouldn't be anything wrong with having a little talk with him,” Veiled Quill said.

Page sighed, rubbing her forehead. “Swift?”

“I...” I gulped. “Guess not.”

“Lovely!” Veiled Quill said, walking inside. “Wow, it really is a mess in here.”

“Yep,” Page said, turning inside as well.

Though every part of my body begged me to flee, I stood my ground. I wouldn't run any more.

And I knew Lullaby was getting a kick out of all this just above.

Pawn Takes Princess, part 1

New Page

Behind the Palace of Canterlot lay a courtyard always shadowed by spires and the creeping mountain above. There, in a dry field where grass didn't grow and no tree stood, a parched dirt road ran marred by ravines left behind by countless wheels. The path led directly into the mouth of a great cave: the engulfing entrance of the EBSS Headquarters.

Our cabin bumped as the cart's wheels jumped from one dried mud-track into another, and with a sudden yank, we came to a stop. The armoured stallion at the end of the cabin stood up to inspect the cuffs on our hooves and the wingbinds encircling our chests. We'd arrived.

He lifted the curtain and waved for his friends to help us from the cabin. The chains on my legs barely left enough room to hobble over to the cabin's edge, and they had to lift me down lest I broke something trying to jump.

Mama didn't move. She did not put up a fight or even acknowledge the urging words of the armoured ponies; she merely sat slumped against the cabin's side and stared at the spot where I'd been sitting. They got her out of the cabin and made her stand, then began driving her into the cave with none-too-light tugs and pushes. I required no such persuasion; I knew they'd get me in there one way or another. No point in delaying the inevitable, I thought, and if I was going to walk into the mountain never to see light again, I'd at least do it on my own accord.

They did not tell us anything, and I knew better than to plead or beg. I trusted they knew what they wanted from me, and when they thought appropriate, they would ask.

So it was that Mama and I descended into the dark, cold caverns beneath Canterlot, our way guided by tiny sparks of magical light that festooned the stalactitic cave, our steps dogged by Celestia's most faithful pets.

It wasn't long before we came to a massive slab of metal embedded into the rock, studded by gems and imprinted runes, and guarded by a pair of stallions: the door to the inner sanctum. Unlike our EBSS escorts, these two guards had golden armour and white coats underneath: Royal Guards by any description. Celestia must have figured the EBSS should not spend their time on something as menial as guarding a doorway.

They consulted our escorts as to who they were and whom they brought, and after a few minutes checking papers, they confirmed that we could enter.

They blindfolded us first. After they made sure our eyes are properly covered, there was silence for a moment.

I heard metal scrape on metal as the slab slid to the side, and I felt the rush of air fleeing the space beyond, warm and stuffy as it brushed my coat. A shove against my back signalled that I was to begin walking.

We'd made many turns and even braved a few sets of stairs, though I did not care to count how many. I heard the off-hoof remarks of the dogs as they passed by, whispering about the Children of the Night and ridding the land of 'my' kind. In the blackness before my eyes, I found myself assigning personalities to every hushed whisper. It was one way to keep my mind occupied.

By this time I'd made peace with the fact that I'd spend the rest of my days here. As for Mama, well, she was innocent. If the EBSS was so smart, they had to know that.

I hoped they knew that.

A door again slid open, and a push sent me forward. My hoof caught on a high doorsill, nearly making me fall. Once inside, they removed my blindfold. Only there did I realise that Mama was no longer with me.

They'd taken me to a small cell lit dimly by a permeating light with no discernible source. The guards had already left; one was just in the process of sliding the barred door back in its place.

I rushed to wrap my hooves around the bars. “Is she safe?”

The guard reached across the bars to shove my back, clicking the door in place and turning a rusty key.

I ran up again, sticking my muzzle between the bars. “Is Mama safe? Please, is she safe?”

He looked at me with a disdain I'd never encountered. It started to sink in, then, that to these ponies I was nothing but another 'threat to the state': not a pony, not even a criminal, just another element to be removed, a piece of documentation to be filed, a statistic to be logged.

I wondered whether only ponies without souls applied to the EBSS or if giving them up was part of their contract.

The cell itself was... I'd have said small, but in all honesty, it wasn't much smaller than my bedroom. About two by two ponies in area, and the floor – dirty as it was – wasn't even littered by parchments and books.

A large, stained bag of linen lay by the far wall, stuffed by old hay that absolutely reeked with the smells of leakage dripping from the mountain wall and bodily secretions of the ponies who'd been here before. My bed, I took it – though even the floor seemed more inviting.

I must've spent hours in there; it really is hard to tell in the absence of the Sun or even the sky, and nothing with which to occupy yourself. In that time I'd examined every last inch of the floor – I'd memorised the places of the largest, darkest stains so as not to roll into them in my sleep – I'd scanned every little grey brick that lined the wall and could, with a reasonable accuracy, point out the thickest cracks even with my eyes shut.

I'd made an ostensible friend of a spider in the upper corner of the room, and I'd watched it half-untangle a worm of some kind from its webby cocoon for its feast. Good on you, spider, I thought. Protect me from the nasty little things.

From what I could tell by poking my nose through the bars, my cell was at the end of a reasonably long hallway. Though the opposite wall was just a long, uninterrupted surface of solid bricks, I wagered that my side had to be lined by similar cells to my own. Although I heard no other prisoners, which meant that either I was alone in the entire hallway, or well, maybe they were in no shape to make a sound.

Wedging my muzzle out as far as I could and turning my eyes to the right to a point of near-popping, I could make out a none-too-amused guard leaning into the corner, his spear flung casually over his shoulder. No matter how many times I called out to him, though, he made no acknowledgement of my presence. This guard, too, was a Royal Guard: spotless white coat under ornate armour.

After some time – I couldn't tell how long exactly, though it felt somewhere around a gruelling eternity – I heard a new sound, this time from the left. Several ponies approached, the clopping of their hooves echoing through the hallway and resonating in the bars.

They stopped before my cell: a middle-aged mare and stallion. They wore no armour and bore no weapons of any kind, though the older stallion carried a blindfold in his hoof.

“Moving me again?” I asked.

The older stallion cleared his throat; he had a terrible scar where his neck met his chest, jagged and hairless. The gurgling noises he made belonged more to a stuck hog meeting its end at the claws of a griffon rather than any equine's voice.

“Yes,” he said as the mare undid the lock.

The door slid aside, and I stepped out. The stallion walked behind me and began tying the blindfold around my head.

“Mama did nothing wrong,” I said. “Is she okay?”

The stallion gurgled. “That depends on what you have to tell us.” He made one last, tightening pull on the blindfold, then pushed my shoulder. “Move.”

It wasn't a long trip; a few turns and a single door's opening and slamming shut later, they sat me down in a chair, placing my hooves on a table before me.

“This conversation will decide your life,” the gravelly-sounding stallion said as he untied the blindfold, “and your mother's. Do not be a fool.”

He removed the blindfold. It took a few seconds for my eyes to again get used to the light. In the time I spent rubbing my eyes, I heard the mare and stallion leave the room.

“Hooves on the table,” said a new voice.

The voice made me freeze, my hooves still at my eyes. I knew that voice.

“That is not the table,” he said.

Slowly, I put my hooves down. I needed a deep breath before opening my eyes.

Across the table sat a grey stallion I'd thought my friend, with a scar on his cheek, a booming authority in his voice, and absolutely no emotion in his expression. In the shadowless room, the wrinkles that marred his visage seemed even more pronounced; the skin under his eyes sagged in dark, loose bags, exposing a redness under his stare.

“I am truly sorry it had to come to this,” Swift Sweep said. “It is in our best interests to spend as little time in here as possible, wouldn't you agree?”

“Or you'll hurt Mama.”

He put his hooves together, grinding one against the other. “Celestia does not condone harm to the innocent. If, however, circumstances were to change so that Veiled Quill is deemed a potential threat to Equestria, we will be forced to treat her accordingly.”

His voice was cold. The room was cold. I didn't think this place would get to me – I fared rather well in the cell, hadn't I? – or at least not this quickly. But to see Swift Sweep like this... in hindsight, I should have known. It was obvious, and I had been a complete moron. It hurt more not because I felt betrayed by him – though that was bad, too – but because I felt cheated by myself.

He came at a point when I was vulnerable, because of course he did, and I latched onto him immediately. Shows how much I wanted to have a Papa.

For all my pride in leaving home and living alone as an adult, I came to understand that I still was the same gullible kid that had followed Flora Dawn into the woods in search of a mythical pond.

“You are a known member of the Children of the Night,” Swift continued. “You have assisted in the theft of countless irreplaceable books from the Canterlot Archives, not to mention the Soul Gem of Princess Luna. As you imagine, Number Thirty-Nine, to say you are in trouble is an astounding understatement.”

So they knew all that. What do they even need me for? “You must have written my confession already,” I said. “Just tell me where to sign.”

“If you signed such a confession, you would be looking at a death penalty. The books are one thing, Number Thirty-Nine, but taking a piece of Luna's soul is, in Celestia's eyes, paramount to taking part of her own.”

“So what do you want from me?”

“I understand that Flora Dawn is your good friend.”

“Was,” I corrected. “I cut ties after the Star Swirl Wing.”

“As you are no doubt aware, she is also called Priestess Nichts by the Children of the Night. Tell me everything you know about the Children of the Night.”

“What's there to know?” I asked. “A bunch of weirdos who idolise Luna and are obsessed with the Longest Night. You know that's serious, coming from me. Still, I wanted to learn about the same things, as you well know. Flora offered me a means to break into the Archives and get my hooves on knowledge Celestia wouldn't let me have. The only price was that she got most of them. Frankly, I didn't even know her little group had a name until recently.” I chewed my lip. “Mama... my mother knew nothing about any of this. She doesn't even live—”

“She lives in Horsmouth,” Swift interrupted, “in the upstairs room of one stallion called Oakbranch. She works as his maid, as she has since you two moved there. As far as we can tell, she is not implicated whatsoever in this matter. As such, for the time being, she is being cared for and catered to. All of that might change, however. Tell me about Nichts.”

“I'm not really fighting for my own life here, am I?”

Swift only glared in my eyes, expression as hollow as ever. “Tell me about Nichts.”

Though I did not like Flora very much – not any more – she did save my life from Corona. I did not like her, no, but I liked talking about her even less. “Flora Dawn was my childhood friend, back in Horsmouth. She ran away when she was...” I rubbed my forehead. “Seven, maybe? I hadn't seen her until early this year, when I was already living here. She knocked on my door one day and outlined her, er, deal that I've already mentioned.”

“What else?”

“She seems to be very enthusiastic about this Children business. Loves to preach. No wonder they call her Priestess.”

Swift nodded, and cast a quick glance at the table. Following his gaze, I noticed a tiny blue gem embedded in the wood at the centre.

“Have you ever met a pony whom they call Prophet Nie?”

And now we've really jumped into it. “If I tell you, will you let my mother go?”

“We have reason to believe that the Children are looking for you. And if they can't find you, they might take her to extort you. She is being held, at present, for her own protection.”

“So what?” I asked. “You're never letting her go regardless of what I say?”

“It seems I'm not getting through to you here.” He licked his lips, leaning forward. “Veiled Quill, as of this moment, is enjoying the protection of the EBSS because we have no reason to suspect she was part of your little scheme. It's up to you to provide enough information to support that assumption.”

“They're a bunch of kids!” I snapped, slamming a hoof on the table. “They took in Nichts, they took in all the others who had nowhere to go. They helped me find answers about my own life that Celestia would've buried forever. I don't like them, no sir.” I shuffled my bat wing under the wingbind. “But I can't just give them up. You take Nichts... you take Flora, you'll ruin so many more lives.”

He raised his brows. “I admire your sincerity. You are, however, entirely ignorant of who the Children of the Night really are – or you're pretending to be. Now, we both know that if we want you to talk, you will talk. We have ways, Number Thirty-Nine, and you're nowhere near the toughest nut we've had to crack.” He touched his hooves together again. “I would much prefer to resolve this quickly and... cleanly.”

I tried to look brave, I really did. Flora was crazy, but she was not a bad pony – I did not want to toss her to the dogs. Swift was just trying to intimidate me, I knew it.

I gulped.

Swift took his hooves off the table, leaning back and running his gaze across the ceiling. He then leaned forward with a sigh; in his eyes, I saw a frankness he hadn't shown since the last time we met at the Pristine Pillars. If I hadn't known better, I might have believed these were really the eyes of a concerned friend: a stare that begged to be heeded.

It looked like he was trying to hide it, but I saw him gulp, too.

“There is no use playing hero to these ponies. Help me help you, Page.”

Swift Sweep

I told River Flow everything.

Well, not everything-everything. Lullaby was innocent, after all, and entirely unaware of my withholding information from the EBSS. I lied to her as I lied to them all. But now I'd came clean, clean about my connection to New Page, clear about why I sought to protect her – clear about how she had to be the Progeny that the Children of the Night needed to fulfil their plan.

Whatever that plan was.

To Lullaby's insistence, River allowed me to interrogate Page. The plan was simple: although by her crimes she might have deserved the worst of punishments, she was also the single most important pony the EBSS had ever captured. She knew Priestess Nichts, she'd seen Prophet Nie, and for once, she might have actually known a thing or two about him. She was not some fanatical devotee, but their victim. All I had to do was convince River of that.

I asked for the reports of Project Heartbreak, and I helped Page dig in deep, exposing her to decades of heinous crimes. She resisted at first, naturally; she'd set up enough mental barriers between her friend Flora and the mysterious Priestess of the Children to protect herself from facing harsh truths.

A few years ago, we'd busted a commune in the Everfree that revelled in incestuous fornication: apparently the Children's foray into eugenics, an attempt to create some sort of transcendent equine by mixing all three pony races. A colony of abductees locked in a perpetual high of ambrosial magicks and undone inhibition, guarded by a few ponies who did not partake. Page remembered she'd received a book from Nichts that speculated on the origin of the alicorn race, as did she recall Nichts mentioning in passing – as a joke, she thought – a spell that could get her any stallion.

I showed her the records of the abductions in Canterlot, how young and old alike had been going missing until we raided that mansion not long prior. I had one of the comatose survivors brought to the room on a stretcher, and I made Page touch the scarred, saggy skin of his stomach that would never completely heal.

She knew what this was: she'd stolen Sombra's forbidden Grimoire of Fleshmoulds herself. When asked, she simply kept repeating she didn't know. It must have been easier to say than that she didn't care – that she had been afraid to ever ponder.

When she broke down crying and could no longer read through her tears, I read aloud for her. I hated to trample what little remained of the girl's precious innocence, but I reassured myself that such a visceral reaction was a good thing. Profound remorse like hers was difficult to fake, and it could go a long way in easing her punishment.

And there was much to feel remorse about. The papers of Project Heartbreak seemed a never-ending theatre of horrors all put on play in honour of the greatest monster who had ever lived. For these were the Children of the Night: Nightmare Moon's most devoted servants.

My disgust for them far exceeded my hate for any other of her creations, for whilst most of the Nightmare's fiends did not reach further than a primal desire to destroy to justify their deeds, the Children of the Night sought to explain away their actions by visions of grandeur and empty words of ideology. Nightmare Moon had revelled in seeing the end of her world; these ponies poised themselves to be its saviours. The worst part was that they believed it themselves.

And whether she liked it or not, New Page was now one of them.

Page talked. She talked like I knew she would, revealing everything she knew. She told us all she knew about Nichts, and she talked about her dreams of a mare in chains. She explained in great detail who – rather, what – Prophet Nie was, how he influenced one's mind by a mere look into their eyes, and how he was able to recover from wounds that would have killed an ordinary pony twice over.

Indeed, if we were to believe her words – and I felt inclined to – then Prophet Nie was unlike anything the EBSS had ever faced. We'd conducted surveillance on old, senile nobles; we'd kept records on troublesome youth; at times, we'd even gone after brutish demons like the elusive White Wolf. Never had we faced a creature so slippery, so insidious as Nie.

I was sure our associates in the EBSS laboratories would love to take the fiend apart to find out what made him tick.

Page continued the tale. She revealed the location of the Children's hideout: the mansion of the noble Starcall Comet the Third. She told us about the mirror and how they'd used it to break into the Archives, and she told us all about Nichts' 'Alicorn Amulet'.

At least now we knew how Nichts had burnt through the Inhibitor back that night.

Her tears had long dried by the time we finished. Page was drained – she stared blankly and breathed with heavy gasps, throat dry and voice hoarse after she'd given us everything.

She swallowed hard, licking her cracked lips. “Please,” she begged, her wavering voice barely louder than a whisper. “Can I see Mama?”

I stacked up the last batch of papers on the table – and tried not to make the shaking of my hooves apparent. I had to be strong now, stronger than I'd ever been. I pretended to be reading one of the papers rather than look her in the eye. “Unfortunately, that is not for me to decide.” Because I could not just say no to her.

Her ears drooped, and her gaze fell with it. She slouched in her seat, eyes on the floor. “I understand,” she whispered, punctuating with a tired sniff.

“Excuse me for a moment, Page.”

I left her alone in the room. She clearly needed time for the full gravity of her actions to dawn on her – but more importantly, I had to ask for something.

River waited outside, tapping his hoof and making the entire hallway resound with every hit. “So that's it, then? Bank everything on the confession of one girl?”

“She is the Progeny,” I replied. “Whatever Nie wants, he needs her for it.”

“So it's in our best interest to keep her around,” he said.

“As an informant, not a prisoner.”

“Just because she feels sorry, doesn't mean she's a good pony.” He leaned close, chin raised high so he could look down on me. “That goes for you too. I'll take you to Celestia personally once this is over.”

I knew River would relish the chance to get rid of me – but that wasn't something I cared about. Whatever was going to happen to me, I was ready to accept it. Page concerned me far more. “Informant.”

“We'll see about that.” He turned his eyes to the ceiling. “Team's already upstairs planning the raid on Comet's place. And this time, we'll be prepared.”

“I don't know, River. It's not just Nichts and her amulet. Nie is supposed to be there, and he sounds as bad as the White Wolf, if not worse. No disrespect to your puppies, but I don't think they're going to be enough.”

He gave me a look like I was a complete idiot. “What, you think I'm just sending the kids? They're fodder, Swift. I'm bringing the entire Royal Guard down on that house, subtlety be damned.”

“I'm fairly certain you'd need Celestia's consent for that.”

River grinned.

Oh.

We would not repeat the same mistakes this time. Nichts would not get away. Although an individual Royal Guard lacked the expertise of us old dogs, they made up for that in their sheer numbers. On Celestia's order, every Royal Guard presently stationed in Canterlot now answered directly to River Flow.

Preparations were made in secret through a few couriers spreading the message across the Royal Guard. All were instructed to remain at their posts so as not to tip off the Children; when the signal came, they would know where to go. We gradually increased the number of guards on the walls and had a few more rolled out onto the streets, but subtly so. An ordinary civilian should not have been able to notice that anything was happening.

While the Royal Guards would make up the brunt of the strike force, it was left to the EBSS to spearhead the raid. We outfitted dozens of puppies with power armour and covertly moved them close to the Starcall Comet residence.

The mansion was out on a rocky cliffside at the edge of the city: it stood lonesome at the precipice of the great drop, meaning none of us could get too close without being in plain sight. River had arranged a wagon to pass by the mansion on its way to the Plaza, bearing the crest of the Apple family – the single most inconspicuous thing River could think of.

On the corner of the road that led down the hill to the mansion, an inconveniently placed rock would shatter an axle and break one of the cart's wheels. One of the stallions who pulled the wagon would go off looking for help, while the other would stay behind to watch over their wares.

The accident happened on time, and the Apple stallion arrived in our workshop exactly as he had to. River and I adjusted our workers' caps, and I clenched my teeth on a spare wheel. Thus, we approached the cart.

As we walked down the narrow alleyway that connected the workshop to the street, I peeked from under the bill of my cap. A Royal Guard perched on the low balcony of a nearby spire. I did not see him turn his head, but he clapped a hoof on the horn hanging from his belt as we passed. He was ready and waiting.

Once at the cart, I gave the wheel to the Apples, helping him prop the cart for repairs. While they worked, River and I climbed inside to inspect their goods.

Behind the many crates filled to the brim with succulent fruit and barrels of frothy cider, we found two peculiar boxes. Peculiar not just because they bore the signs of pears as opposed to apples, but also because they were not carrying foodstuff at all.

River closed the curtains of the cart as I unpacked the boxes: enchanted black plate to go over rune-inscribed chainmail, heavy helmets to protect the skull and cover the face, and wingplates with blades to go at the tip of every feather. We fastened the latches and tightened the straps – any EBSS agent worth his salt had to know how to put their armour on in a matter of minutes.

River walked to the curtain, rattling his wings in anticipation. Even with a visor over his face, I could plainly see the resentment in his eyes.

“You stay with me, understand?”

I closed my eyes for a moment, taking in a deep breath and slowly exhaling.

“Believe me,” I said, “I want to catch these bastards as much as you do. More than you do.”

He narrowed his eyes. “We'll see about that.” Clearing his throat, he knocked a hoof on his chest a few times and gasped for a deep breath. “Ready or not...”

We jumped from the wagon at the same time, the pavement crumbling under the impact.

All I saw before me was the rocky path that led to the mansion, and before my mind's eye I already saw myself crushing Nichts' throat under my jagged horseshoes. River could have Nie.

A horn bellowed across the city. Within seconds, Royal Guards filled the sky and descended on the building like a starved swarm. From the surrounding buildings and a few inconspicuous-looking carts jumped more ponies in black armour, all charging down the hill.

The horn's sound still echoed, mixing with the thunder of metal-covered hooves bashing rock and pavement: an avalanche to bury the Children of the Night in their own hideout.

As the Royal Guards broke through the windows of the mansion, I bucked the front door off its hinges. Hundreds of Royal Guards reinforced the perimeter all around the mansion, and several squads of them galloped in our steps.

We could not have been more thorough. There wasn't a single nook or cranny where the lunatics could have hidden or escaped. Even if Nichts chose to put up a fight, she wouldn't catch us off guard: we knew from experience she needed time to overpower an Inhibitor, and this time we would not let her charge such an immense spell.

It was all perfect.

As River and I ran through the building, tearing the parquet and shredding carpets, I looked every which way. Every window broken, every room invaded, the tightest of spaces secured.

And there was nopony home.

We made it up the stairs, to the hall where Page said we'd find the portal-mirror. I shouldered the door open, ready to catch these lunatics in their desperate escape.

Looking back, I should've noticed the smell earlier.

There in that windowless hall, we found the only remaining inhabitants of the the Starcall residence, frozen in a grotesque scene. They were two stallions – or rather, one and a half.

Starcall Comet the Third slumped in an armchair, head slack on his shoulder and pipe hanging loosely from his mouth, his dead eyes staring into the distance. His right hoof drooped over the armrest, coat encrusted by old, dried blood. A congealed pool stained the carpet under his slit fetlock where a bloodied kitchen knife rested.

But even that was a dignified death compared to the sight that welcomed us behind him.

A stallion's rump slouched against the great mirror at the far end of the room. It was a corpse cut in half along his hip; above, a blackened trail of blood left a mark on the glass as though the corpse had slid off. His other half was nowhere to be seen. The picture on his flanks of a silver platter covered by a dome told us who he was: Starcall's butler, described by Page as strange and unresponsive even in his life. We could only speculate as to how he'd become that way; his mind might have been fried by Nie, if what Page had said about the demon's powers were true. Perhaps the butler would have come to us otherwise.

The flies had already got to work on both bodies, invading their orifices and filling their softest tissues with their young. Behind us, Royal Guards and puppies rushed in, most skidding to a halt with yelps and visible heaves of their stomachs.

I recognised the empty sockets that festooned the top of the mirror: by Page's account, these had to be the places of the enchanted gemstones that had powered the magical portal. Now there was nothing but a series of silver-lined holes, all vacant.

“Sir!” called a Royal Guard by a fireplace.

The building had to have been abandoned for days, yet hot embers still smouldered in the fireplace. The guard poked the flame with a stick.

“I think these are books, sir.”

Just as I was about to take a closer look, I felt a powerful impact at my head that sent me to the floor. Though my helmet mitigated the pain, it was still enough to disorient me. I got on my hooves to the sight of River lowering his hind legs.

He stamped over, pushing me back to the floor. “You imbecile! They knew we were coming!” The guards and puppies gathered around us – and they watched, either in entertainment or in fear of River. “You should've arrested Page a week ago, but no, you couldn't, you didn't, you useless piece of—”

His tirade quickly descended into a fit of coughs. He grasped to his throat and banged at his chest, coughing and spitting, mucus splattering through his helmet's visor. I took pleasure in swift karmic punishment; I did because the only response I could've provided would've been screaming insults right back. Because I knew he was right. It was all my fault, was it not?

If I had only brought in Page the moment I learned of her involvement with the Children of the Night. I tried to protect her, and for what?

Yet nothing River could say and no amount of self-hatred would set things right now. There was nothing left to do but go forward. After all, we still had the one thing the Children wanted the most: New Page herself. So long as we kept her out of their reach, at least until the Summer Sun Celebration was over – tomorrow night – we could yet win.

One day. That's all we needed.

I clapped a hoof on River's shoulder. Gradually, he recovered from his fit. He straightened himself, giving me a stare.

I turned to the Royal Guards. “Search the building, make sure there's nopony hiding anywhere. You know who to report to.” I looked at River. “I fucked up, you don't need to remind me. I'm certain Celestia will give me a fitting sentence. Until then...” I walked for the door. “We've got other matters to attend to.”

If Nie was coming for Page, we'd have to prepare accordingly.

Celestia gave us until the Summer Sun Celebration to find Nie. Though she did not specify a punishment if we were to fail, I had a feeling I did not want to find out.

River was furious – he insisted he take the hoof vice to Page to find out if there was anything she kept from us. I protested, pointing out he had much better spend his time assessing our raid on the mansion. There was much to go through, indeed: half-burned books, partial parchments, and the reports of our unicorns analysing the residual magic of the mirror.

He did not listen. I discarded all pretence, all sense of pride; I begged River to be the one to interrogate Page again. Perhaps I succeeded in appealing to his arrogance, or maybe he simply loved to see me suffer. I did not put either of those past him. In the end, River conceded.

But I would have to use the vice; that was an order. If I refused, he'd do it himself all the same.

It was nothing I hadn't done before. You merely place the hoof in the vice and turn the rack until you hear the crack. It did good to wrap the leg in a towel of sorts, as that helped absorb the blood before it got on the vice. An interrogator of my skill could draw out that first splitting of the hoof and keep the recipient on edge for hours. The tighter the vice, the looser the tongue.

It also paid to draw out the time between turns on the crank so that the pain had time to settle before springing up anew.

Simple. Routine. Emotionless. I'd learned how to block out the screams.

Lullaby agreed to do it for me.

I knew – I hoped – she would be more merciful than River. I retreated to my room an entire level below. Even through the thick layer of rock and the pillow pulled over my head, Page's cries of agony and pleas to stop echoed in my ears.

Of course, she could tell us no more than she already had.

If I had brought her in earlier, maybe this could've been avoided. We could have found Nie and Nichts before they had a chance to flee, and then... and then Page would have been sent to the mines, or for her young age, a re-education camp at best on the Griffon border.

Now wouldn't that have been better?

We had one thing going for us; in all likelihood our arrest of Page had not been anticipated by Nie. Page insisted Nie was unaware of our surveillance of her – Nichts revealing herself in her apartment was evidence to that – and she told us Nie had let her walk out. She was also apparently unaware of any future plans involving her. Not that she was the least bit surprised upon being told.

What we knew for certain was that Page's role as the 'Progeny' was important, and as long as we had her, they could not use her. Nonetheless, we took all the precautions we could; we knew that Nie and Nichts possessed magicks that could tunnel through even the supposedly impenetrable defences of the Star Swirl the Bearded Wing, which meant there was little we could do.

We had Page taken to a special cell near the laboratories, one normally reserved for the odd supernatural fiends we came across in our investigations – and cared to detain rather than put down immediately. With a piece of Nightmare Moon's soul supposedly residing inside of her, she actually fit that description quite well. The cell had an outfitting of spellblocks and reasonably good shields, for what it was worth.

Whilst she stayed there, we spent the day going over the books and tomes we were able to recover from the mansion. Every fireplace in the building had been stuffed with the texts, and the fires had long since had their way with these precious, stolen documents. The puppies even pulled a few out of a stove.

Most parchments were damaged beyond any legibility. Based on the scarce details of eldritch rituals I could make out in what remained, I thought that might have been for the best.

As for the mirror, the unicorns could confirm some magical residue inside of it, but nothing more. If only we'd got there faster, they said, shortly after the portal opened...

My bad.

I'd lost all hope by the time the Sun went down. Nie was gone, and so was Nichts and their entire cult. We went through all of the reports and interrogated many of the lunatics we'd brought in on previous days, but nothing yielded anything. To most of them Nie was more like a mythological figure than a flesh and blood equine, somepony they hoped in their wildest dreams to perhaps see one day. Whilst Priestess Nichts spread the gospel among these misguided folk, Nie had been at work in the shadows all these years.

In the meantime, the unicorns in the labs poked and prodded Page, trying to find out more about the supposed fragment of Luna's soul inside of her. We considered calling Celestia to excise the fragment from her, as she had from us Night Guards. However the unicorns found the soul so diluted it seemed to barely even exist.

Or rather, it was hardly a separate piece woven between the threads of Page's soul; it seemed, in fact, part of her very being. Celestia's magic might have disintegrated Page's soul outright before the corrupting influence was gone entirely. Even in the best of cases, it might have severely hurt Page – and right now, we needed her alive and well.

River paced up and down in his office. “Celestia is going to have our heads.”

“Yeah, probably,” Lullaby mumbled around the rasp in her mouth, leaning back in her chair. She focused her attention on filing away at a forehoof. “But hey, at least we've got the Progeny, and we completely shut down their operation here in Canterlot. That counts for something.”

Closing my eyes, I placed the side of my head against the wall and let loose a groan of exhaustion. “There has to be something we're missing. Page... New Page said Nichts lost a leg. They couldn't have got far, wherever they are.”

“Oh, they could have,” said River, still pacing. “We had a train depart just yesterday.”

“So check where that went,” Lullaby replied.

River stomped. “I have! They weren't on it.”

“I still expect them to come for New Page,” I said. “Have we got our defences ready?”

He rolled his eyes. “Yes. And if they're stupid enough to assault EBSS HQ during the Summer Sun Celebration, they really do deserve everything that's coming to them.”

“We should be on the lookout, is all I'm saying.”

“Noted. Got any more genius insights, or—” Somepony knocked on the door. “Ah, that's gotta be a guard. Sure took his sweet time. Yes!”

The door opened, and a squeamish-looking Royal Guard stepped in. It was the new guy I'd come to recognise by now. Frankly, I didn't even like looking at him; he filled me with this second-hoof awkwardness that I could barely tolerate.

He gulped before he spoke. “You needed a guard, sir?”

“Yeah,” said River, “so tell me if you find one.” He began laughing, or at least tried to – it sounded more like another fit of coughs.

The Royal Guard puffed his chest, trying to mask the clear offence in his eyes with that stone-cold look all of them learned to put on. “Sir?”

“Just... just get me Number Thirty-Nine, would you?” asked River. “Bring her to the interrogation room.”

He glared at him, cocking his head slightly.

River rubbed the side of his head, giving a sigh. “Special Containment, block D.”

“Ah.” The guard nodded with a charming smile. “Close by, then. It should only be a minute.”

“Why are you still standing here?”

The guard threw a quick salute, then walked off without even closing the door.

“The only thing I hate more than the puppies are these sorry Royal Guards,” grumbled River.

I rolled my eyes. “There's something we can agree on.”

“Give him a break, boys,” mumbled Lullaby and threw one of her legs behind the backrest of her seat, taking the rasp to her other hoof. “Everypony starts somewhere, and the day's been rough on all of us.” She lifted her hoof. “You think it looks fine?”

River quit pacing and stopped besides Lullaby. “How do you do it?”

“Do what?” she asked, throwing the rasp behind her back; it bounced against the ceiling and landed on top of a high shelf with a clatter.

River's brows furrowed, and he shook his head slightly. “How do you even exist?”

“I just know how to keep my cool.”

“Keeping it is one thing, being clinically incapable of losing it is another.”

“I got angry once.” She shot me a glance. “Let's not repeat that.”

River threw up a hoof in concession, then began pacing again.

Lullaby closed her eyes, putting her hooves in her lap. I lightly knocked my head at the wall a few times. River's steps resonated in the room, clop, clop, clop.

“Guard's sure taking his sweet time,” River said.

I scoffed. “Think Page's hoof might be slowing her down?”

River stopped again. “What are you looking at me for? I didn't do it.” He cocked his head towards Lullaby. “Blame your girlfriend.”

She didn't open her eyes, but spoke through her teeth. “Didn't we just agree to not make me angry?”

I kept thinking about that guard. I could not wrap my head around the fact that a skinny wimp like him could make the Royal Guard. The way he'd looked around the room, like some terrified child at a doctor's office! His tiny stature barely filled out his ornate armour.

The more times I'd seen him loitering around the place, the more I just shrugged him off. It felt more comfortable, not thinking much about the guy.

But now... something about him rubbed me the wrong way, just gnawing at the back of my mind. Like I was missing something obvious, like I'd just woken up and tried to hold on to the fading memories of my dream, just on the verge of remembering.

That guard seemed young, younger than any recruit I'd ever seen. And tiny. I thought back, picturing him before me; his legs were like twigs. A fly farts on him, and his knees crack.

I couldn't put a hoof on it. The more I tried to remember, the more I seemed to forget. A voice in my head told me to just let it go. What did that guy matter to me, anyway?

“You think our little guard got lost?” I asked.

Lullaby got up and stretched. “When did that guy even come here? I've been seeing him around, but I can't really put a hoof on where he's supposed to be posted.”

“He's with me,” River responded. Then he raised a hoof to rub his chin. “I think. He usually tottered about here at Heartbreak, never really went anywhere else. That when he even deigned to show up.”

That was the moment – when the realisation came, washing over me like a tidal wave.

I burst outside, looking where the guard had gone off. And I tried to remember, I tried with all my might... but I could not recall.

“Red eyes,” I mumbled. “Doesn't that guy have red eyes?”

His face was a blur in my mind; a gap in my memory. When I thought about him, I thought of an amicable, submissive, and entirely unimpressive young stallion. I did not hate him as much as I pitied him.

His face... I'd only seen him a moment ago, yet I could not remember his face. What was his name, anyway?

A white pegasus with a smile that rivalled the innocence of a newborn. A face that softened even the hardest of hearts.

A pair of red eyes that pierce into your soul.

No wonder that all the ponies we'd brought in suddenly forgot about their leader. No wonder that both Heavy Yoke and Red Petal turned up dead as soon as they spoke his name. As I turned back to the others, I saw the horror of understanding dawn behind their eyes as well.

Prophet Nie had been here all along.

I bolted down the hallway. Lullaby and River galloped right after me. Coming to a turn, I nearly slammed into the next wall.

A few more turns and stairs and near-slips later, we arrived at Special Containment D. Page's cell was at the very end of a rune-inscribed corridor with a lone Royal Guard leaning against the wall beside it – and we came just in time to see him give the cell's key to Nie.

“Stop him!” I shouted. The guard at the end looked confused. I rushed forward on three legs, pointing at Nie. “Him! Don't let him get in!”

Getting over his initial puzzlement, the guard flourished his spear and lunged at Nie. Nie continued to fiddle with the lock with perfect composure.

He didn't so much as flinch when the guard drove the spear into his side.

As he opened the door, he flared his eyes at the Royal Guard. He fell back and crawled to the wall, all the while screaming something about a demon who'd come to reap his soul.

I leapt at Nie, but he managed to jump out of my way into the cell, and I landed awkwardly on the floor. Before I even got up, River and Lullaby had already grabbed onto the bars of the door. Nie closed it with a single yank despite their efforts to hold it, then locked it from the inside.

He grinned at us before turning around, undoing the latch on his ill-fitting breastplate. The piece fell, and a small blue crystal bounced out of it.

Nie reared and stomped on the crystal, which lit up with bright light. “I've found her, Nichts!” He threw off his Royal Guard helmet, whipping his long mane loose with a flick of his head – and grinning gloatingly at us as he did.

Inside the cell, Page was just waking up to the commotion. There was a dark rag wrapped around one of her hooves; it made the blood harder to see. The moment she opened her eyes, a look of absolute terror washed over her face. “No!” she wailed. “Get him away from me!”

I shoved the others aside and flipped around. I reared on my front legs and began bucking at the enchanted bars with all my might. Whether it would be the iron or my bones, something was going to break. If only I had my power armour...

A beam of light shot up from the blue gem, collecting at the ceiling and swirling like fire. A second later, a magical portal opened in thin air between Page and Nie. It wasn't like Page had described it, however; the portal had a gentle curve in the air as opposed to mimicking the plane of a mirror, and it appeared much smaller than I'd expected.

Nie grabbed Page. She kicked and writhed, screaming for help, but Nie easily overpowered her despite being much smaller than her. He picked her up and threw her head-first across the portal.

As the bars bent and broke at the impacts of my hooves, Nie stepped through to the other side as well. The guard's spear still stuck out from between his ribs, yet drew no blood whatsoever.

“Tell Celestia,” he said, “that her sister is coming back to her.”

The lock gave way in the last second. One last kick threw the door open – giving me one second to look in Nie's eyes before the portal closed in front of us. Part of the spear's shaft remained on this side; the portal's closing sent it clattering against the floor with a perfect, sizzling cut.

So it was over.

Page was gone.

River dropped to his haunches, staring where the portal had been and tearing at the skin under his eyes. Lullaby closed her eyes and began taking deep breaths. Though calm on the surface, she chewed her lips and thereby betrayed her underlying tension.

I'd expected to feel anger, a seething fury to come boiling to the surface. Or perhaps fear and fantasies of the punishment Celestia would prescribe for us. Yet, somehow, I felt none of that. Perhaps my mind decided it had worried enough these past few days.

I noted the blue crystal that Nie had used to signal Nichts. I picked it up, smelling it, and felt a piquant spike of magic on my tongue: the smell of the earth after rain, the scent of a cloud just before it struck with lightning. I tossed the crystal over to River.

“Get this to the unicorns right away. We might yet find where they went.”

A Summer Moon's Celebration, part 2

Swift Sweep

Even somepony with no knowledge of magic could tell that blue crystal was significant. It was practically drenched in magic, enough to make it prickle to the touch. The unicorns quickly carried it away to the deepest part of EBSS HQ: the magi-technological laboratory where they'd invented our equipment.

We saw Nie use this crystal to signal Nichts. If we were fast enough, we might track the magical beacon's destination – and with it, Nichts' location. I'd been told that magical energies fade quickly from spent gemstones, so every second counted. Doubly so with the Summer Sun Celebration approaching; we only had a few hours to find the lunatics.

Celestia refused to postpone the event. We told her it wasn't safe with those lunatics on the loose. Yet Celestia remained adamant. She would not rob her little ponies of a dawn in the darkest of times, she said. We all knew what she really meant, however: she was sticking her head in the sand.

La-la-la, I cannot hear you, do your job – Celestia had never been good at confrontation, always needing somepony else to do it for her. We'd done so countless times, and we would do it again like the obedient dogs we were.

The Royal Guard secured the city as much as they could. Guards stood on every corner and swarmed in the sky, stopping ponies at random and taking in any who looked remotely suspicious. Amidst the chaos, Celestia would raise the Sun to begin the longest day of another year in our beautiful Equestria.

After Nie infiltrated HQ so easily, the Princess called for all of the Royal Guards to be expelled from its premises, as well as all of the puppies. Nopony remained except us old dogs, as we all recognised each other by face and name.

She'd also put on hold all projects save for Heartbreak. While the puppies were out sniffing and patrolling the areas around Canterlot, we remained underground to come up with a plan.

For a long time, that 'plan' consisted of us sitting and twiddling our hooves while the unicorns tinkered with the gem downstairs. It was in the late hours of evening that they finally called for us; River, Lullaby, and I became the only ponies without horns to be allowed into the labs. That was the first time I'd been there in my twenty years of service, and I was certain it'd be the last.

It was far different from the rest of HQ: the walls had been painted a bluish colour as opposed to the sterile whites of the halls outside, and the uneven surfaces of the mountain's caverns replaced the artificial, straight lines that otherwise defined the structure. Gems and etched runes lined the ornate pillars that held the ceiling, glowing in myriad colours in accordance with the magic of the unicorns.

As we walked into the anteroom, a unicorn stepped before us, adjusting his oversized glasses. “Place is awful pretty, right? But it's all technical, it conducts magic just proper. You keep looking like that, your eyes'll pop.”

It took me a moment to recognise the stallion. He grinned.

Twilit Grotto took off his glasses, exposing his face – and the three long wounds that were raked across it. Fang marks, by the looks of it. “What?” he asked. “Never seen me in a lab coat?”

I chewed the inside of my cheek, biting on the rough scar tissue of my wound from twenty years earlier. “I see you've joined the club.”

Grotto stuck the tip of a hoof into one of his eyes without flinching or even blinking. As he poked it, the eye turned in its socket independently of the other. “Yeah, and this one's not even real. The White Wolf tried to chew my face off. A puppy had to die so I could get away.”

“You'll have to tell us the whole story one of these days.”

Lullaby chuckled, leaning closer to Grotto. She raised a hoof to cover her mouth as though she was whispering a secret and eyed his scars. “He's just jealous yours is bigger than his.”

River cleared his throat. That was always difficult to miss.

Grotto turned and beckoned with a hoof. “Right, work. I think we've actually got something. Follow me.”

He led us down a hall lined by twisting, metallic tubes that glowed with magic. Unicorns ran about from doorway to doorway with their eyes stuck to their clipboards, nearly tripping over one another. As we walked past room after room, I saw them stand in rune-circles flashing their horns, shooting forth beams of magic into different gemstones, and a dozen more unicorns documenting the process with their quills flying everywhere.

“We're just doing some final tests,” explained Grotto, swinging open one last set of doors. “We're seeing if we can recreate the signal crystal's effects. We've been syphoning its magic since the moment we got it.”

We entered what appeared to be a central chamber of the labs. It was a large, circular room with doors on all sides. At the centre stood a raised platform inscribed with arcane symbols, with a pedestal in the middle. From the ceiling directly above the pedestal hung a pointed metal beam that sparkled with arcs of magic and rumbled like a miniature thunderstorm.

Between the pedestal and the metal beam floated the tiny blue gem, aglow in a rainbow of different auras. Dozens of unicorns surrounded the arrangement, eyes glowing and horns connected to the crystal by streams of magic. Inky quills filled the scrolls floating beside them.

“So why did it take so long?” grumbled River. “Can't be that much magic in that tiny crystal.”

Grotto rolled his eyes. “You'd be surprised. But it's not the amount of magic, really, but how well it's been locked inside. Whoever made this was very good.” He puffed his chest, looking at the floating gem. “But I'm even better. Took a while, but we managed to unlock it.”

His horn glowed, and a parchment flew into his hoof. Now, let it be said that I had a hard time reading faster than a toddler on my best days, and I certainly wasn't going to read this; the entire paper was filled with runes and diagrams and technical talk that I couldn't begin to comprehend.

“There wasn't much juice left in it,” Grotto explained, “so we had to dig deep to syphon enough. Then we went and amplified it and locked it inside several other crystals until we found one that resonated the right way. Then—”

Lullaby snatched the paper out of his hoof and crumpled it before throwing it behind her back. “The point, TG, the point.”

Grotto pursed his lips. “Point is, we can never be a hundred percent certain, but so far everything points towards the same place.”

He turned and walked to a cluttered desk nearby. His magic moved a few inkwells and pushed a paper stack or two aside, revealing a map of Equestria. A circle of red ink surrounded an area up in the North-Western corner of the country: a tiny village tucked away in the mountains by the ocean shore.

“Horsmouth,” said Grotto. “That's where they've got to be.”

“That place?” asked River, leaning over the map. “Isn't that where our precious informant grew up?”

“It's completely out in nowhere,” Grotto replied. “They couldn't have removed themselves further from civilisation if they tried. The closest railway station is still days from there by hoof.”

“Sure that's where they are?” asked River.

“Like I told you, as sure as can be.”

River turned around and marched for the exit. “Then I'll tell Celestia to gather the Royal Guard. We'll bring the skies down on them.”

New Page

Nie threw me through the portal, and I fell awkwardly on arrival. He followed me within the moment, but could not resist turning back to gloat.

“Tell Celestia that her sister is coming back to her.”

The portal zipped shut, catching the spear in Nie's side and cutting off the handle. I did not hear it clatter on the ground.

Nichts ran past me as I clambered to my hooves. “Nie!” she squealed. “Are you alright?” The end of her horn still sizzled with the afterglow of heavy magic. As she turned to Nie, I noticed that in place of her missing hind leg now sprouted a crude wooden peg with a creaky wheel, bolted into her flesh and sealed with a rune dyed into her coat where the joint met her body.

I spun around, hoping to find my bearings. No windows anywhere, just faint magical lights, and walls made of stacked bookshelves. Behind me, by the wall, towered a gigantic hourglass, the glass of its upper part warped as though it had gone soft in extreme heat before being quickly frozen again. Wedged into the warped glass was a series of small gemstones, with one large ruby at the centre of the formation.

And down in the lower part where the portal had been, something red tinted the glass and seeped into the floor. The red stains painted a messy line of marks down a nearby hallway.

Nie bit on what remained of the spear in his side and pulled it out of his chest. “Good thing they didn't hit my heart.” He spat it to the floor. “That would've been trouble.”

Nichts massaged his quickly healing wound. When it sealed, she slapped him. “That was reckless!” She lunged to hug him, nearly tipping him over as she spread kisses all over his cheek. “I'm so glad you're okay.”

He pushed her off. “Now isn't the time to get sentimental.”

She wiped her eye. “Right.”

The hourglass stood right by the wall, but a long line of scrapes along the floor marked its way from the centre of the room. Every which way, hallways reached out with even more shelves; a massive gate with a magical seal blocked the way out.

This was the central hub of the Star Swirl the Bearded Wing, but moving the hourglass wasn't the only thing that had changed. A blue line encircled the room along the walls, and inside it a gigantic six-pointed star touched the circle with its tips.

More strange symbols and runes filled the spaces between the star's lines. From every tip of the star another line shot up the walls, meeting in one point on the ceiling: the same exact arrangement as I'd seen in Schweigen's mansion, though on a grander scale.

“Why bring me back here?” I asked. “Why come back here?”

Nie looked around. “Don't you think it's brilliant? This place is protected by innumerable magicks designed specifically to keep intruders out – and to keep the magic within. We needed a place that could cover the magical discharges we'll be working with, and Celestia provided.”

“I don't know what you want from me,” I said, “neither do I care. But are you really this dense? We've been in here. Do you really think they won't suspect it? That they won't find you?”

Nie turned his head, shouting down a hallway, “Hello!” He looked to another one. “Anypony here?” He cupped a hoof behind an ear; his voice echoed back, repeating his calls. He put his hoof down. “Now riddle me this, Page: what could Celestia do? Let her army march in here and wander around waiting for a possible break in?” He gave a sly grin. “Can you imagine how many things would, well, go missing if she opened the gates?”

“He's right,” said Nichts. The wheel in her peg leg squeaked awfully as she came closer. “I should think the Princess is focused on catching us right now. And well...” She rubbed her horn. “A little sleight of magic assures she won't be looking here. So this place is probably not high on her priority list, especially with the most valuable thing already gone.”

She lifted a hoof, showing a bright white amulet in her grasp, cut in the shape of a crescent Moon. A tiny point of light rushed back and forth on its surface like the pupil of a frightened eye.

“I mean, us bringing Luna's soul back is probably the last thing she'd ever guess.”

“That's it?” I asked. “We all nearly died because one amulet wasn't enough for you?”

“Now Page,” said Nie, “you know all good and well that's not the case.”

“I couldn't care less what 'the case' is.” I stomped up to Nichts – and a sharp pain whipped my leg. My wounded hoof – cracked in a vice by the EBSS – throbbed with pain. I sat down to cradle it through the bloody rag they'd wrapped around it.

Nichts' wheel creaked closer. “Page, I'm so sorry.”

“I bet you are.” I felt her touch me, but I shoved her off. “I've helped you more than enough. Have some decency and let me go.”

A red glow surrounded my bat wing and spread it for display. “This is amazing,” mumbled Nichts.

Hopping to my hooves, I skipped the other way to tear my wing from her aura. “I said let me go!”

“Tsk,” scoffed Nie. “This is how she repays us.”

“I owe you nothing,” I replied as I backed into the hourglass. “If anything, you owe me. I won't be saying this again: let me go.”

Nie threw his head up and groaned. “You know, this would be much easier for all of us if you cooperated.” He whipped his head towards me, eyes bared and pupils shrunken to pinpricks. “I'm done trying to be good to you.”

As his pupils slowly dilated, I realised I couldn't look away. “W-what are you going to do to me?”

“You're going to save the world, Page. You should be honoured.” He walked closer, his eyes looking into mine, never blinking or wavering. “I would have much preferred to do this back at Schweigen's. We had all the wards and shields set up already. Much more comfortable working from home, don't you think? Ah, but we will have to settle for this place. I was too lenient. My heart's just that soft.”

I shrunk away from him, craning my body left and right, desperate to turn away – but I couldn't do it. Nie's eyes consumed me. His gaze pinned me to the cold hourglass.

“I shouldn't have let you waltz out the door that night,” he said. “Look where it's brought us. Look where it's brought you.”

My wrapped hoof lifted itself, shaking and fidgeting. Dried blood cracked and fell as the bloodied rag around it loosened. The stained cloth came undone, falling to the floor to expose my splintered hoof.

“It's my fault,” said Nichts. I could hear her, but I could not see her – I could see nothing but Nie. “Nie wanted me to fetch you, but I pleaded not to. I thought it'd be better for you, to get a few days to wind down. Think a little, you know? I didn't want to rush you.” I felt a pair of hooves touch my splintered hoof and gently caress it. “It wasn't supposed to be like this. Please forgive me.”

“See?” asked Nie. His voice came from inside my own head. “She is still your friend, after all the trouble you've caused. Don't shut her out, Page. Don't shut us out. Open up. Trust us.” He chuckled. “As for me, I need to learn to say no to Nichts sometimes. And you, Page...”

A shiver ran through me. Nie wasn't shouting, but his voice became deafening.

“Now you be a good girl and listen.”

Swift Sweep

Within minutes of River's report to Princess Celestia, the city came alive with the joint forces of the Royal Guard and the EBSS. The ominous warning Nie had given us – that Nightmare Moon would return – set Celestia over the edge. In all my time serving under the princesses, I had never seen such fire in her eyes.

Twilit Grotto told us that every year during the Summer Sun Celebration, he'd feel the magical currents in the air shift. He speculated that at this time, when Celestia reached out to the Moon in the heavens to replace it with the Sun, the magic that bound Nightmare Moon was at its weakest. That was why, he guessed, our good Prophet Nie had been so desperate to get his hooves on Page.

Whatever they were planning, they needed her for it.

There was no time for a conventional force to rally at the border of Horsmouth: ponies that relied on their hooves to travel would have taken days to arrive. Celestia thus called for an army of pegasi to swarm the town.

Lullaby, of course, was right out: she could not fly with only one wing. The real kick in the groin came when Celestia pronounced me too incompetent to be part of the team. The only thing to dull the pain was the look in River Flow's eyes when Celestia told him to stay home as well.

The army set out into the night – the Mare in the Moon would light their path. In a matter of hours, they would be at Horsmouth to bring down the might and fury of Celestia. In the meantime, all we could do was sit in HQ and wait out the storm.

“Pawn takes Princess,” said River between coughs. He slammed his chess piece in the place of mine, flicking mine off the table.

I gritted my teeth and stared intently at the board, unwilling to give River the satisfaction of looking me in the eyes. I'd lost three times already.

“You seem tense,” River said.

I jumped from my seat and flipped the table, sending the board and pieces scattering across the room. “You think?”

“Temper, temper,” he whispered, leaning back in his seat. “It's your fault we're stuck here.” He eyed the arrangement on the floor for a while. “So, are you going to pick that up, or what?”

“Oh, you little—”

“Stars!” groaned Lullaby. As I turned, I saw her leaning against the doorway. “You boys are still going at it?”

Taking a deep breath, I turned my back to River. “We're just finishing up, actually.”

River sighed. “How long has it been?”

Lullaby shrugged. “Less than an hour? I feel like this is going to be a long night for you two.”

“Yeah,” grumbled River and crossed his hooves. “What I wouldn't give to crush Nie's skull myself. Then do it again when the monster heals.”

As Lullaby opened her mouth, her ear twitched, and she turned the other way. Soon I heard the rapid clopping of hooves in the hallway as well.

As Twilit Grotto skidded to a halt, he had to slam a hoof into the door frame to stop himself. He spent a moment catching his breath and adjusting his glasses. “Oh,” he huffed, “thank the heavens you're still here. Come on, now, right now.”

We all exchanged a look. Then we set out.

“It's the crystal,” he jabbered as we hurried down the halls towards the laboratories. “You know I said whoever made it, he was good? Well, he was. He really was. And I just... by all the stars and the Moon and Sun above, I just can't believe it.”

“What's going on?” asked Lullaby.

“We were looking for the magic inside the signal gem, right?” Grotto flipped around, kicking the doors of the labs open with his hind hooves, then moving backwards as he talked. “It was incredibly well hidden. We had to jump through all these hoops to get to it, technical stuff, you wouldn't understand, not interesting. Point is...”

He kicked in another set of doors, taking us to the hub with the magical syphoning machinery – except this time it wasn't the blue crystal on the pedestal, but something else I didn't recognise. A small piece of wood, by the look of it.

“Look, TG,” I said. “Deep breaths. What do you want to say?”

“I'm saying it was like a puzzle. And I didn't notice it earlier because I was so caught up in solving it.” He ran up to a desk, picking up a small glass tube with the blue crystal suspended magically inside. “This? This is a distraction. No, you guys don't get it.” He brushed his mane out of his eyes nervously and adjusted his glasses again. “It's a puzzle, a puzzle! It was meant to be solved!”

He beckoned, rushing around the magical contraption in the centre of the room and dodging the dozen unicorns working their spells on it. The room flashed with outbursts of auras of all colours. Arcs of magic flowed like lightning to and from the wooden object floating above the pedestal.

“It was just a hunch, I mean,” he prattled on. “Didn't think much of it, but I had to check it out. That thing.” He pointed a hoof at the piece of wood. “You know when Nie came for New Page, a guard speared him? The shaft got caught in the portal as it closed. You told me yourself, the end of it got sliced clean off. That's it there.”

“Get to the point,” said River.

“The point is that we've been running tests. Now, in the report I've been given I recall reading that supposedly the lunatics made these magical portals using an amulet made from Nightmare Moon's hair. This thing? We did our best to track the magic's source, and you know where it's pointing?” He lifted the tip of a hoof up. “To the Moon.”

River groaned. “Are you suggesting they took the girl to the Moon?”

“Now there's a field trip...” mumbled Lullaby.

“No, no.” He flailed his hooves apologetically. “I'm saying that piece of wood is drenched in Nightmare Moon's magic. Of course that's where it's leading us. But then I think, hey, surely not all of the magic came from the amulet. Nichts had to manipulate it, hers must be in there somewhere. And that's what we've managed to extract. There's this tiny, infinitesimal trace that doesn't belong to Nightmare Moon. It has to be Nichts.”

“So?” I asked. “Where?”

“That's just it.” He looked us over. “Here. Nichts is in Canterlot. We can't get the signal to be any more definite, but... well, it could just be because the portal was opened on this end. But it could also be that it was opened from Canterlot. Nichts is here, I'm telling you. She's got to be.”

“Insanity!” snapped River. “Why in Equestria would she stay here when she could've gone literally anywhere?”

“I hate to side with River,” I cut in, “but this really doesn't make sense. If we believe Nie, they're trying to summon Nightmare Moon or something. You could feel that magic from miles away, couldn't you? Heck, some earth filly in Horsmouth could sense it.”

“Unless they shield it,” mumbled Lullaby. All eyes were on her. “TG, didn't you tell us about the Star Swirl Wing of the Archives? It's got all these magical defences. Not just to keep ponies out, but to keep its secrets hidden.”

Grotto rubbed his chin. “Yes, and that could be why we can't get a proper reading.” He looked at us with pleading eyes. “You've got to get in there. I mean, yes, it's just a hunch and it's crazy, but what if we're right?”

“And Celestia?” I asked. “Why would she leave the place unguarded, especially right after a break in?”

River scoffed. “Because she's terrified of what ponies will find in there. She said she'd take care of it personally, but she hasn't touched it yet. Just declared it off limits. Even more off limits than before, that is.”

“Then Celestia is a fool,” I said.

“She is,” replied River. “Which one of us is going to tell her that? Excuse me, Princess. I know we just sent the army across the country, but I think we may have got it wrong. Could you let me into the Star Swirl Wing so I can sniff around?”

Lullaby raised her hoof. “I'll go. Sorry, boys, but between somepony she'd sent off to die – sorry, TG – and you two tuckfards, I think I have the best chance of getting through to her.”

“Then it's settled,” said Grotto, turning towards the syphon. “We'll continue working on this here, but you'd better hurry.”

New Page

I did not think, merely acted. My mind ran empty, my thoughts dispersed; my legs started moving and I could not have resisted, had I tried. On a subconscious level, I was aware of the situation, but a desire to flee could not coalesce. As though I was stuck in a perpetual state between a dream and wakefulness, I sleepwalked through every order Nie and Nichts gave me. The staring eyes of the prophet burned in my mind.

Nie told me to follow Nichts out of the main room and down a hallway. I remember following the red trail from the hourglass that seeped into the floor, and there was an awful smell and the sound of flies buzzing. We passed by a smaller room where the red streak ended, and I thought I saw the torn, upper half of a stallion stuffed under a desk before Nichts slammed the door shut. She urged me to keep moving.

She nuzzled my cheek. “I'm sorry,” she whispered. “If only you'd have been a little more receptive.” The wheel in place of her back leg scraped and creaked awfully against the old floorboards.

She nudged me through a door to the right and locked it behind us.

Though the room wasn't wide to begin with, the table taking up the centre made it look even smaller. Many shelves lined the walls. By the marks left in the dust, it appeared that only recently the shelves used to be filled with books; now there were instruments of glass and metal, both magical and plain. Clamps, nails, screws, strange devices that glowed softly with magical lights – I couldn't begin to guess as to the purpose of these things.

“Alright, let there be light.” Nichts clapped her hooves, and a burst of light with no discernible source flooded the room. It hurt my eyes, but I found myself unable to close them save for a few sluggish blinks.

She blew dust off the table and clapped a hoof on it. “Get up, lie on your back.”

I did so. Now in Nie's absence, however, I found my cognisance gradually returning. I had questions. I wanted answers. I only had to figure out how to ask them...

Nichts took a bunch of ropes from a shelf – cuts from the same length, I assumed by the frayed edges – and tied them around my hooves, knotting the ends to the legs of the table. As the ropes tightened on my fetlocks, the realisation of what was going on slowly crept into my numbed mind.

“Wait,” I mumbled. “What are you doing?”

“You know,” she said, checking the knots, “it really would've helped to do this at Schweigen's place. But nooo, you couldn't have that. It's a good thing we could save the Portal Ruby, at least. Everything could've been lost.” She knocked a hoof on her head. “My fault. It's like Nie says... sometimes, you gotta hurt the things you love.”

Trying to move, I found my legs tightly tied. I fidgeted against the ropes but lacked the strength to free myself – and the more I moved, the more my splintered hoof hurt.

I felt groggy, drunk, and a little like a child listening to the argument of her parents. I was conscious – I saw and heard everything – but true understanding eluded me. “Are you going to punish me?”

“By the Moon, no!” Nichts' eyes widened and jaw dropped in abashment. “No, Page. I understand, I really do. The ropes are merely a precaution.” She turned to take a phial from a shelf. “We were busy with the summoning circle all day, so I had to make this in a hurry.”

She put the phial beside my head. Inside sloshed a dark, mesmerising substance: inky black but with tiny dots of bluish light dancing around within, like a cascade of stars in the clear night sky.

Nichts popped off the cork, her horn lighting up. Red magic surrounded the phial and lifted it over my head, its mouth slightly tipped. “Drink it,” she said. “It'll do you good, trust me.”

My mouth opened before she even finished speaking. The phial tipped over and the liquid inside began flowing into my mouth. As soon as the first drops touched my lips, panic overcame me. My jaws locked in place; I couldn't close my mouth, and I couldn't stop the liquid pouring down my throat. I pulled on the bindings that held me, and I tried to scream, but I only managed to gurgle the liquid and splatter it.

The phial tipped upwards, stopping the flow. “Trust me,” said Nichts, grabbing my head to hold me in place. “It'll do you good. Calm down. Drink it, please.”

She let go of my head. Nichts' words wormed themselves into my brain, compelling me to remain calm and still. The phial tipped over again, and this time I lay frozen, mouth open. It tasted bitter and cold, pricking my tongue and stinging my throat. My chest convulsed as I drank and my stomach churned. The liquid snaked down into my belly, leaving behind a trail of coldness.

With the very last drop rolling down my throat, I gasped for air and sputtered.

A shudder ran down my spine. My hairs stood on end across my entire body.

“What...” I began, but speech became more and more difficult by the second. My tongue flipped about slackly. “Wha' was...”

My entire body felt like lead, like I'd just sunk to the bottom of a lake. I heard myself breathe, but I did not feel it in my lungs. Looking at Nichts, I hoped my eyes would ask my questions for me.

Nichts had her back to me. She stood over a sizeable basin, rinsing something in the frothy water inside. She ran her hoof across the object in her hooves, staring at it longingly for a while. She turned around to place a hoof on my chest. Slowly, she dragged her hoof downwards and circled the tip around near my groin. I felt nothing.

She pinched my skin. “Feel anything?”

I tried to shake my head. When my body didn't respond, I just stared.

Again her horn came alive. A single hair on my chest was enveloped in a red aura. Nichts blinked, to which the hair parted itself from my skin and floated away. She gave it one look, then turned back to me with a raised brow. I did not feel it at all.

Nichts smiled, but her ears drooped.

“I love you, Page,” she said. “I hope you know that. I'd never want any harm to come to you. And I wish...” She paused and gulped. “By Luna, do I wish I could go in your place. But I can't. Nopony can.” She rubbed a hoof on her amulet, eyes turning to the ceiling. “How does it feel to be one with the Mother? Do you notice it at all?”

I forced my tongue and cords to move. “Wha' are y...”

She placed a hoof on my mouth. “Don't try to speak. Just remain calm and breathe deeply. Good. You're doing great.” She smiled. “Hasn't Nie told you? You hold a piece of Princess Luna's soul inside of your own. You are connected to her even now, from so far away. Your soul is a gateway between Equestria and the Moon up above.”

Her smile grew wider, spreading into a toothy grin. She skipped around the table and put her front hooves on each side of my head, then she leaned over me, close enough for my mane to brush her chest.

“Don't you understand? You hold the last magical thread that binds Nightmare Moon to this world, the only one Celestia or fate has not yet severed.”

A powerful red glow consumed her horn, the light rising like dancing flames across its surface. On the other side of the room, a drawer opened and a glass jar floated out, about the size of my head and filled with some greenish substance. The jar placed itself on a shelf.

My heart gave one great beat, kicking at my ribs from the inside and knocking the air from me. Light enveloped my chest, and a pulsating red glow appeared where my heart was, throbbing faster by the second.

“What...” I mumbled.

Nichts pressed her hoof against my mouth. “Hush now! I've been practising this, but you don't want me to mess up, do you?”

From the frothy basin emerged a saw. A red aura shook it in the air, wiping it clean of soapy water before bringing it over my chest. The tips of its teeth parted my fur and rested on my skin.

“I'm so jealous of you, Page,” she said and brushed my cheek. “Your body will become the womb of this world's resurrection.”

The saw raked itself across my skin, ripping hair and tearing flesh; a red glow blanketed the cut, keeping the blood at bay. I screamed, not out of pain but sheer terror, for I could not feel a thing. I wanted to move, but my body lay slack like a rag doll. Another tuft of magic wrapped itself around my muzzle, pinning my mouth shut and suppressing my screams.

Nichts fixed her eyes on my chest, working the saw, pulling and pushing, cutting and rending, deeper and deeper. She licked her lips and placed a hoof on mine.

“Ssh,” she whispered. “It's alright. You'll be safe. If I could give my body to Princess Luna, I would do so in a heartbeat. Alas, only you can. But don't worry. Once the princesses reunite, it'll all be worth it. We just have to bring Princess Luna back.” She ran a hoof across her amulet. “Nie believes we can create a harmonising wave powerful enough to mend her damaged soul. We'll heal her spectral scars.”

I heard a crunch. Nichts' horn glowed brighter, and her amulet with it. My ribs parted, bending, cracking, splintering: my chest opened before my eyes. My pinned muzzle resounded with a suppressed scream.

All I could do was watch as magic pinched the veins and arteries of my heart, tearing them one by one. Metal clamps floated into my split chest, clasping the ripped veins and arteries and separating muscle and tissue from bone.

The cold rush of realisation washed over me: the realisation that I was going to die. Though I felt no physical pain, the fear and loss ate away at me. You really start to think when you see the end approach.

Had I wasted my life chasing dreams and nightmares?

What would I miss? What could I have been? I wanted to be a historian, an astronomer, a professor. Or maybe I'd have started a family. Nice husband. A beautiful baby.

And Mama... oh, what would she do without me?

My vision grew blurry from tears, but I could not feel them roll down my face. I could not feel the clamps inside my body, I could not feel the magic that carved out my insides. I could not feel anything, only that calm certainty that it was all over.

I'm so sorry, Mama.

There came a wet spurt from my chest. I blinked the tears away and beheld as my heart rose from my chest in a red glow, beating as fast as ever, leaking blood and pus. A swirl of magic wiped it clean, elevating it high while Nichts looked on in wonder.

“Look at it, how it still beats,” she said. “Didn't I tell you that you would be fine?” She ran a hoof through my mane. “We'll put it back, just as soon as we know it's safe. Nie says the Elements of Harmony are far too powerful, so we cannot break the magic that binds Princess Luna into the Moon. But you, Page... in a way, you already have. You are a conduit: a tiny crack in her soul's cell. Her body may rot in the Moon for eternity, but her spirit shall return.”

Her red aura eased my ribs back into place, snapping them in position and sizzlingly welding them together again. My heart floated into the jar Nichts had prepared and plopped into the green liquid. A lid flew over the jar and sealed it quickly. As her magic put the jar down, my heart still glowed inside, beating quickly to the rhythm of my own terror.

Flesh and skin fused together on my chest. The only sign the operation left behind was a burn-like wound. Am I... how am I not dead? I could barely breathe. Even in my delirium I knew I shouldn't have been alive. Did I see that? Did that really happen?

“Once her soul takes your body,” Nichts continued, “we've prepared a place for yours.”

From a high shelf, a clear crystal sphere floated above my head. I recognised it: it was the Soul Gem in which a lonely fragment of Luna's spirit had been imprisoned. But now there was no light inside; the gem shone dully in the ambient light.

“Remember the crescent Moon amulet?” asked Nichts. “We've managed to extract the soul fragment from the Soul Gem. It's inside that amulet now.” She smiled, gently touching the floating gem with the tip of a hoof. “Which means we now have a safe haven for your soul. It'll have to leave your body to make space for Luna, after all.”

So this was the fate my friend prepared for me: not death, but to be an accessory, a toy, a testament to her insanity. As she leaned closer, I felt her red amulet touch me. I realised, then, that this was merely a taste of things to come. My soul would be locked inside an unmoving, helpless mockery of a body that was a subject to this deranged child's whimsy.

I'd seen how she treated her dolls: how she'd play with them and oh, she'd hug them while she slept. Little did she care for losing the odd leg or chewing off the eyes here or there. I began to think that dying on that table would've been a mercy.

She bent and kissed my forehead. The warmth of her lips was lost to the cold that permeated my body. The vacant Soul Gem spun gently above me, the room's lights reflecting and casting shadows over the minute imperfections of its surface.

“You'll be safe in there, Page,” she whispered. “I'll take good care of you.”

Dawn in Darkness, part 3

New Page

My legs felt like lead, and so did my eyelids. I felt like I was standing neck-deep in water as I swayed side to side, trying to maintain balance. My neck could barely hold my head, and I heard the soft whistling of air between my dried lips at every breath.

“It's okay if you feel a little dizzy,” Nichts said, running a hoof down the back of my neck. “It's not every day that your body has to make do without a heart. Keep breathing, and try to stand still. We need to get this to fit.” With a spark of her magic, the amulet that held the fragment of Luna's soul floated closer: a silvery crescent Moon on a gilded strap. “You don't want to look like some common tramp for the Princess, do you?” she asked as she hooked the amulet around my neck.

The touch of the Moon against my skin was akin to an icicle sinking into my throat. The tiny point of light inside the amulet flashed brightly as it clasped around my neck, and the entire amulet took on a uniform glow similar to the real Moon above. As I looked down at it, I suddenly felt my lifeless body tipping forwards; Nichts' aura caught me and put me back on my hooves.

Nichts took a step back to admire me with a hoof at her chin. “It's perfect with your dress.”

My dress was indeed worthy of Luna herself, with its deep hues of blue and lavender, glistening, star-like beads lining the seams, and a veil to cover my wings that was so fine and wispy as to be barely even there.

Nichts tugged at the ruffles around my shoulders, pulling them back a little before smoothing them. She then adjusted the necklace so the Moon fell directly over the hollow of my throat. “I'm so jealous,” she whispered under her breath as she took a step back.

Used to be that we played dress-up together. In her eyes now I saw the same childish excitement, though I felt differently about it. Every inch of my body prickled as though needles had replaced my hairs.

She blew a warm breath onto the amulet, then rubbed it clean with the back of a hoof. “We should go. Nie ought to be ready by now.” The jar containing my beating heart gently floated beside her. “Come on, Page,” she said, bowing deeply before me as though I was a princess myself. “It's time for you to fulfil your destiny.”

Nichts opened the door and beckoned. I almost fell at the first step, but she caught me; from then on, I walked by leaning on her side. She seemed glad to help.

Each time my hooves clopped against the floor, a sharp sting raced up my bones into my spine. I couldn't even tell which of my hooves had been shattered any more; they felt all the same. Crude pieces of enchanted metal pushed against the insides of my chest, straining my ribs and bulging under my skin here and there.

So I dragged my beautiful dress – custom made to my measurements, by the feel of it – down the dark, dusty hallways. Nichts didn't look, but her magic lifted my skirt the slightest bit so it wouldn't pick up the dirt.

Inside the main room, Nie sat at a tip of the painted star's arms, eyes closed and a hoof rubbing the side of his head. He seemed lost in thought – meditating, perhaps. It took a while for him to notice us.

“My,” he said. “Page, you look absolutely stunning.”

I cast him the most loathing glance my slack face could manage.

Nichts whispered in my ear, “I told you he'd like it.”

“The question is, Nichts,” said Nie, “will Luna?” He raised a hoof towards the centre of the six-pronged star. “Place her there, please.”

Nichts walked me into the middle of the star. “Now stay here. Try not to move. And...” Her magic surrounded me and lifted me from the floor. “Keep looking into his eyes.”

The red aura spun me in the air, finally putting me down so that I faced Nie. There it was again, his gaze burning through the frail doors of my mind. My hind legs collapsed and I fell to my rump. Nichts' magic stood me up – and I fell again the moment her aura gave out.

Nie sighed. “Just let her be.” He came closer. “Know that your sacrifice will be remembered for millennia. You are the world's salvation, New Page.”

I mustered all the fight in me to speak. “I hate you.”

For just a moment, Nie's ever-present smile faltered. “You act like you don't understand. You know the world is rotting, Page.” He grabbed my shattered hoof. “Look what Celestia has done to you. With every passing day, she loses more of herself to the darkness. If we do not help her... woe betide the world when she finally snaps. Believe me, it breaks my heart to cause harm to others. Yet if we do not somehow intervene, all will be lost. Celestia needs her sister back, even if she refuses to admit it.”

He stroked my shattered hoof.

“We will bring her back, and we will cure her. Nightmare Moon will be no more, and the two princesses together shall rebuild the world.”

I pulled my hoof out of his grasp. I put it down and shifted my weight onto it. Rather that pain than let the fiend keep touching me.

Nie shook his head with a sigh like that of an exhausted, disappointed father. “I wish you could see the good that you're doing.” He turned to Nichts. “Are you ready to begin?”

Nichts took her place at the point of one of the star's arms and sent him a determined nod. Nie stroked my amulet.

“That is the fragment of Luna's soul in there,” he whispered. “Luna senses that you two are the same, that's why it glows so bright. She loves you, Page, just as she loves all of us. Never forget that. I hope you've been treating her with more respect than you've given me.”

With that, he made his way to a tip of the star directly facing me, beside the arm where Nichts sat. He sat down at about ten-fifteen paces' distance, his back to the enchanted door of the main room and eyes glaring into mine.

“Nichts?”

She stood directly to the left of Nie, resting one of her hooves on the jar that held my heart. She rubbed her red amulet nervously. “I can do it. I know I can.”

Nie glanced at the jar. “If something goes wrong—”

“Nothing's going to go wrong!” Nichts interrupted. Then she quickly stuffed a hoof in her mouth.

“Look at me, Nichts. In the unlikely event that we fail...” He cast the jar another glance. “Smash it.”

Nichts avoided my eyes for a while. I didn't have a hard time guessing what smashing the jar would mean for me. So that's what this was for: it was a magical failsafe should Nightmare Moon be set loose.

And this was the destiny my childhood friend had prescribed for me: either be cast out of my own body so it could be host for an immortal princess, or be killed to protect the world from an ancient evil she unleashed. In the latter case, maybe, I was better off.

Glimpsing to the side, I caught a faint glimpse of myself in the reflection of the tall hourglass. I couldn't help but smirk; at least I looked good for the occasion. An opening of the bodice framed the Moon amulet perfectly. The amulet's glow shone perfectly on the ruffles on my shoulders to blend with the colours of the dress.

Aren't I lucky, Mama?

Swift Sweep

River Flow walked up and down in his office, kicking crumpled papers out of his path. So did I. When he'd turn one way, I'd walk in the opposite direction.

“She's taking too long,” mumbled River.

“Who knows what Celestia's doing to her,” I said.

“I don't like this.”

“Neither do I.”

“Sorry boys,” came Lullaby's voice – giving both of us a jump. She stood in the doorway, shaking her head in amusement. “One would think two of the EBSS' oldest would be a touch more observant. In any case, again, sorry about taking so long. Celestia was entirely preoccupied by her preparations for the Summer Sun Celebration, so she barely listened to me.”

“I don't suppose she believed you,” said River.

“No. And you'd be surprised how many ways the Princess can phrase 'you're all incompetent buffoons'. The moment I mentioned the Star Swirl the Bearded Wing, she shut me down. She wanted to hear none of it.”

“None of it?” I asked.

“None,” she replied.

I started to shake. “None, alright. Give me a sec.” Chewing my lips, I walked to the nearest wall and closed my eyes. I pictured in front of me Celestia's face, her pristine white coat and aurora-mane and her beautiful, lying smile.

Lullaby raised her voice. “Swift, please—”

I turned and placed that mental image of Celestia on the wall behind me. My anger exploded with a gigantic, two-hoofed kick at the wall that sent tremors through the room and my very body. As I listened to the crumbling of plaster, I imagined Celestia's teeth falling to the floor.

I let my head hang as I wheezed and swallowed. “Alright. I'm good,” I said, looking up. My bones and joins ached. I felt guilty, I did. But also relieved.

“What now, then?” asked River.

“Now?” Lullaby grinned. “If Swift was kind enough to pay attention...” She unfurled her one wing to reveal a gem-studded talisman in the shape of the Sun: Celestia's key to unlock the magical seals on the gates of the Star Swirl the Bearded Wing. “Now we're going to the Archives.”

I gaped. “But didn't you—”

River couldn't help a raspy chuckle. “You did, didn't you?”

Lullaby flicked her wing to throw the talisman to me. “I did say she was entirely preoccupied.”

“Well then,” said River. “Can't be long before she figures out it's missing.”

“No,” replied Lullaby, “which is why I suggest we get going immediately. Anypony asks, she gave that to us.”

New Page

Although my hooves were not chained to the floor, they might as well have been. All my strength had been sapped, and I could barely feel my own body. I could only tell I was still alive because I knew I deserved a better afterlife than this.

Nichts had been chanting some eldritch incantation for... I couldn't tell how long. Minutes, hours? It all became a blur. From the corner of my eye, I saw her horn glow along with her amulet. She preached about the Moon and its beauty and the rotting of the world under the sole rule of Celestia. She begged to the stars to aid Luna's escape, for the façade of false harmony to break apart, for the world to live again.

I didn't know how magic worked, but I knew most unicorns didn't recite elaborate chants whenever they used magic. Either her spell was of a far higher power, or this entire ritual was bogus. I didn't know which to believe – which I wanted to believe.

Nie stared: his eyes wide, red, consuming, unblinking. I could not take mine away. In what remained of my peripheral vision, I noticed the painted star and runes on the floor began to glow red, bathing the room in an eerie light.

The longer the ritual went on, the more exhausted I became. I wanted to lie down, but my legs did not obey me; they kept me up as thought turned to stone, stiff and unmoving, no matter how hard I tried to tear them from the floor. An invisible weight seemed to have planted itself on my back, warm and heavy, pushing me down.

First, it had been but a gentle brushing against my back. Then came the weight, and then the sensation of meat hooks boring into the back of my neck. A warm tongue ran its tip from my shoulder to my cheek. Somepony panted in my ear.

I heard the Mare in the Moon hum, just as she did in my dreams. She needed no words to convey her meaning: a song of sweet lullabies, of days gone by, of loss and misery and pain and revenge. When I was little, my heart would break for the wretched mare in chains.

Finally, there came the whispers – the first time in my life that I heard Nightmare Moon talk. I'd never realised how much the mare in chains loathed me.

It was a voice that cut into your bones like the cold winter wind and the heavy sleet on your back, a voice at once melodious and terrifying. It was the voice of a mother that does not love you, a voice that evoked the primal fear of a child who ventured alone into the night for the first time.

She welcomed me.

She had waited so long to talk to me.

She wanted to know how it felt – how it felt being free.

She wanted to experience it herself.

She wanted in.

I could hear her fangs scrape and scratch the invisible glass that divided our souls.

Swift Sweep

The three of us rushed across the city and to the Archives, bearing Celestia's Sun-talisman. It was easy to get lost in the crowd: ponies from all walks of life flocked to the capital to witness the dawn of the longest day. Yet their presence meant only that we'd wasted far too much time, as Celestia would be raising the Sun soon. If Twilit Grotto's guess was correct – that the Children of the Night would attempt to bring Nightmare Moon back in the moment when Celestia reached out to the Moon – then we only had minutes to spare.

And if it turned out they were not in the Archives after all, well... I didn't want to think about it.

The Royal Guards before the gates of the Star Swirl the Bearded Wing knew better than to question us, for how else would a trio of EBSS agents have the key if not with Celestia's blessing? They parted at the sight of the glowing talisman and opened the gates for us.

Walls of books and forbidden scrolls surrounded us in this forbidden labyrinth of twisting halls. We decided to make our way to the central chamber with Star Swirl's Hourglass. If we did not find these lunatics on the way, at least we had a clear starting point for our search.

New Page

My mind was a lone cabin in the woods. Nightmare Moon stood vast and imposing before the door: the dark of night that consumed the infinity beyond the doorstep, a cold, eerie fog that clung to the blackened windows. The door handle budged, and the door of my mind slowly creaked open. Her wings wrapped me in darkness, and she rested her chin on my frail shoulder, making me shudder. I knew now how it felt to be touched by fear itself.

This was my purpose, she whispered. The only reason I was born: to save her, the one true Princess of Equestria. In the darkness, I heard her hooves scratch the walls of my thoughts, the obfuscating fog seeping into the crevices of my mind. She bit into my nape, running her fangs deep. I wanted to shake her off and cover my head, but my body refused. I wanted to scream, but no sound left my throat.

The whispers turned first into louder words, and then to shouting.

Let me in!

She tore at me, she shook my hapless body with cold shivers, and she screamed from inside my own head.

Let me in!

When would it end? Would it ever? For a split second, Nie's red eyes burned through the dark fog – and he assured me it would never end. Nightmare Moon already had me. She turned me over in her hooves, and she tasted my mind. She snuffed out my dreams and feasted on my hopes.

Let me in!

The only thing she left for me was fear and its chills that ran down my spine. It would have been far easier to let go. Let the world burn, or let it be saved: what difference did it make to me?

Let the darkness engulf you. Let the blizzard bury you.

I'd read that ponies feel warm before they freeze to death.

Nightmare Moon tucked at my bat wing. She rubbed my splintered hoof.

Is it worth living like a monster?

The cold was eating itself into my very being. Where I'd felt heaviness in my legs, now there was nothing, no cold, no weight, as though I was already a spirit without a body. Where the warmth of my heart was supposed to be, I felt a gaping hole.

I lowered my head, taking a breath.

I breathed out – and with it, I let go. My body went slack and fell to the floor. I sprawled out and waited for the darkness to take me.

A feeling of peace washed over me. No more fear. Between the walls of my mind echoed the sound of chains breaking, binds snapping, weights falling. The mare cast away her chains and her fangs tore her prison apart.

In that moment, the star on the floor lit up with blinding light. Nichts' chanting stopped, but her horn and amulet glowed on.

Her spirit climbed into my body. I could feel her hooves slide under my skin, and my face stretched across her skull. She wore me like a mask. A powerful, splitting pain cut through my skull like a bolt of lightning, knocking the air from me. The aftershocks throbbed in my head and poured into my body.

My body began writhing, twitching uncontrollably. Muscles tensed and relaxed at random. I felt nothing in my lungs, but I heard choking coughs and half-breaths – were they mine? The world spun around me, lights flashed and the glowing of runes blended into an incoherent cascade. Then, as quickly as it had begun, the writhing stopped. I lay still again, my body slack and drained.

A rush ran down my spine: a sense of excitement, of boundless energy. Where my body had gone cold, now heat rose beneath my skin. My lips twitched, parting to curl into a grin. I breathed in, and the air of Equestria tasted so sweet. My entire body shivered with this sudden, boiling hot desire. A desire to move, to dance, to sing.

I jumped to my hooves. As my wings snapped open I laughed, rearing on my hind legs to stretch my body. How my joints burned! My hooves craved to touch soil again, my wings ached to catch wind and fly, to soar, to live.

“Oh, most wonderful of nights!”

Was it my voice that I heard? It had been so long – I'd forgotten.

I laughed for the first time in so long. The heat in my flesh grew searing, and I felt it burn through my skin. I fell forwards and arched my back, shaking, screaming in agonising ecstasy as my wings caught magical fire.

Singed feathers and flayed scraps of skin rained to the floor; I flapped my wings, and with every beat they grew greater, wider, thicker. My splintered hoof pulsated with pain, clawing at the floor.

Magic enveloped my hooves, coiling its tendrils around my legs, climbing up into my body. My coat caught fire in the magic's wake. This fleeting, mortal body could not contain the immense power that now sought to fill it.

I screamed my pain as my bones cracked and snapped only to weld together again. Joints ground one another, my cartilages popped, ligament and tendons stretched and twisted, tearing in myriad strands before intertwining in new, slender, beautiful forms.

I laughed in euphoric bliss, drinking in the surging magic that pervaded my being. My skull split apart as a thick, bony growth erupted from my forehead. All the magic in my body flowed through my veins and spine into that spot, drawing scorched lanes over my skin. Blood spurted from the cracked skin of my forehead; the blood ran down between my eyes to drip off my muzzle.

It had been so long since I'd tasted blood. As I licked it off, my fangs drew more blood from my tongue.

The fires that ravaged my body died off and took with them my moment of torturous bliss.

A moment of emptiness.

Silence.

There came fury.

A whirlwind of hate and jealousy, and an overwhelming desire to tear down this world that had been so unjust. I wanted to snuff out the life the world did not deserve. Let the Sun fall and the Moon rise eternal, let the world freeze in never-ending darkness. Let all that lived know my pain, the torture, the hopelessness, the contempt.

Hate.

The entire Moon had not been enough to contain the hate that was now condensed into this tiny filly's body. I could not find the words; no poetic metaphor, no phrase, or term existed that could describe the hate that I felt. My immortal mind came up short before the sheer magnitude of the hate inside of it. My mortal tongue would sooner wither away than finish pouring into words how much I hated the world.

Hate.

I wanted to kill. Sweet blood on my tongue, the neck of a pony snapping between my hooves, wings torn from their joints, stomachs split open and viscera set free for all to see. I wanted to suck out the eyes of the children and eat them before their parents, I wanted to pour searing molten iron down their ears that would not listen to my woes, I wanted to drive red-hot nails under their hooves, I wanted to tear out their tongues that would praise the Sun and loathe my majesty.

Hate!

I spread my wings wide and leapt from the floor.

A wall of light appeared in front of me, wracking my body with a massive shocks as I crashed into it and sending me crashing to the floor. All around me, walls of rainbow lights began to swirl. Trying to push past them, I found myself unable to.

My strength! I was not done yet. Pathetic runes of binding scribbled onto the floor locked me inside the centre of the star. I'd need more strength to break the ethereal walls. I needed more, more time – part of me was still locked inside the Moon. I would not escape one prison only to fall into another.

On the tip of my tongue, I felt the faint tinge of magic. A slow trickle fed me drop by measured drop.

I came to realise that this aura that surrounded me was not a prison at all. It was a gateway for the soul; a spell designed not to contain me, but to help me escape. Piece my piece, my soul trickled into this new host.

“It's working!” squealed a filly's voice somewhere. I squinted to make her out behind the swirling rainbow lights.

“Quiet!” demanded a stallion. His eyes glowed red, their light burning through even the magical walls that kept me in place. He stared me down and spoke in a commanding tone. “Tell me your name, monster.”

After the hate, now I felt pride. Who was he to me?

Ah, but I remembered his name: Wintermist of House Aurae Glow, bastard son of Starcall Comet the Third. Oh, did I remember him – and the pitiful, miserable, tiny thing he was.

His eyes touched my mind. He plunged into the depths, fumbling, feeling through the darkness with his pathetic, shaking little hooves, desperate to find something to hold on to. He knew nothing. On the outside, he pretended to be determined. As our souls met in the space beyond spaces, I could easily discern the truth: he was terrified, terrified of his own frailty before my immense might.

My mind, a fortress, a labyrinth, an endless maze, a bottomless sea; his, an insidious spider in the crack of a wall, an ant swept up in the current. He had no more understanding of me than a mouse of the bustling cathedral in which he found himself lost, a rat gnawing its sickening way through a great ship's walls.

“Listen to me!” he demanded. Oh, the nerve – and oh, the desperation. “Tell me your name.”

He already knew what I would say; I waited a moment before answering to draw out his terror. Oh, the anticipation. Oh, the drama.

“I am what you fear when you look behind yourself in the dark,” I said. “I am why the children are afraid of the night. I haunt the weak in their loneliest hour, and I sew the dreams of the brave into chilling horror. I am the engine of fear and the devourer of hope.”

Wintermist shrunk away. I noticed it; the filly beside him chose not to. I could discern his goals with ease: the maggot sought to control me with his feeble magic, the magic that had been my gift.

I grinned, exposing my fangs – and I saw him grind his teeth. I liked it when ponies knew my name, although I loved reminding them even more.

“My name is Nightmare Moon.”

Swift Sweep

Rumbling sounds and muffled speech seeped through the enchanted gate of the central chamber. We exchanged nods – no words were necessary – and I clenched my teeth on the gate's handle. It took all my strength to pull it open, and as I did, a sudden rush of searing hot air tore into our manes. Brilliant flashes of chromatic light illuminated the hallway behind us. With my teeth on the handle and face pressed against the gate, I couldn't see what was inside – but I saw Lullaby's stunned expression, and River's snarl.

After a momet's pause, the two of them rushed inside, and I followed quickly. As the great gate slammed shut behind us, its echoes rumbling across the wing.

There they were, Prophet Nie and Priestess Nichts – and a monster in front of them.

They sat in different points of a glowing star painted onto the floor, with the monster at its centre. Nie sat with his back directly to us, and he barely flinched as we broke in. His ears fluttered once.

“No closer,” he said, eyes fixed on the being at the centre.

“What is that thing?” River demanded.

A swirling aura of rainbow lights surrounded a creature, obscuring it behind its glowing veil. Yet I knew the mare well enough to recognise her: she was New Page, though her body had been twisted by foul magicks. She wore torn, tattered clothes, and an amulet seemed to glow on her neck, brighter even than the lights around her.

Her legs had grown long and gaunt, thin skin stretched over her elongated bones to expose every little bump and lump in her joints. The tips of her wings scraped the swirling lights around her, drawing momentary patches of blackness into the colours.

One wing resembled a bat's, or rather a dragon's: massive, clawed bones stretched a thick layer of skin between themselves. Her other wing looked more like a pony's, albeit mangled, largely featherless and bleeding from wounds left by splintered bones sticking out of the flesh.

Her mane waved in the hot air that swirled around her, loose locks wrapping around a malformed stub of a horn that had sprouted from her forehead. The whites of her eyes had taken on a shade of grey, and one of her pupils was slit like those of the old Night Guards.

She looked us over with a grin that exposed the row of fangs and black, bleeding gums.

When she stared at me, she stared into my soul. For all the bravery and bravado with which I'd rushed in, all of it disappeared the instant I locked eyes with her.

“What have you done to her?” I asked, hooves rooted by fear and eyes fixated on Page.

“As always, you are late,” Nie replied without turning. His words held no trace of irony, his tone entirely matter-of-fact. “New Page is gone. What you see before you is the single most dangerous being that has ever lived. If I take my eyes off her, we will all pay the price. So I suggest with utmost urgency that you stand down.”

At the star's point to the left of Nie, Nichts sat, her eyes closed in concentration and horn pulsating in tandem with her red amulet. She had her hooves on her ears as if to block out any distractions, and her lips moved silently in some whispered chant. A jar filled with greenish liquid sat beside her, with some redly pulsating thing floating inside.

River gurgled and spat. “You're bluffing. I don't know what you are or what you've been doing here, and I don't care.” He set his hooves, clawing at the ground in preparation to charge Nie. “This ends now.”

Lullaby put out a hoof. “River...”

River Flow lunged forward.

“Crimson Cascade,” said Page, making River Flow stop and look up at her in terror. The determination in his eyes dissolved, replaced by the terrified look of a small child whose mother just called him by his full name.

“N-Nightmare...” His lips wavered. “Nightmare Moon?”

I knew it was the truth, and he probably did too – we could all feel it in our bones.

She turned her eyes to me, then to Lullaby. “Crescent Strike and Nightsong, my two little lovebirds.” She looked us up and down. “The years have been unkind.”

Lullaby stroked her chin. “I'm sorry, but who are you again? I know Princess Celestia, but you're sort of a blur. Bad Dream, was it?”

Nightmare Moon shot her a stare and narrowed her eyes, but said nothing. Leave it to Lullaby to hurl petty insults at the Nightmare.

“If you hurt me,” Nie cut in, “or you hurt Nichts, Nightmare Moon will be unleashed upon the world once more. You don't want that. Celestia doesn't want that.”

I stomped. “You're asking us to stand idly by?”

“You have no choice,” he replied. “On the other hoof, you have the privilege to watch as the world is reborn.”

Nightmare Moon laughed. “These fools think to save my soul, bless their precious little hearts. They wish to turn my own magic back on me in order to shackle me.” She brushed her hoof across the amulet around her neck. “They will fail. The moment their spell is done, I will escape, and I will kill them.”

I saw Nichts quickly bite and lick her lip, then went back to her quiet incantation.

“Don't let her get under your skin,” said Nie. “You know who it is we're dealing with.”

Nichts nodded as she chanted on, putting a hoof around the jar.

I remembered, in that moment, that I'd seen a jar like this before: inside that mansion where we'd found all those missing ponies. It had been smashed and the thing inside trampled by the time we got to it, but the arcane tome next to it described the removal and magical preparation of organs. With their magic, the Children of the Night could extract the heart of a pony, then keep the organ functional for hours even when physically separated from the body.

Squinting through the swirling lights around the monster, I noticed a thick scar on Page's chest.

When Nichts spoke, her voice sounded at once close and distant, echoing in the room and at the back of my head. “P-Page,” she stammered. “Sh-she will be s-safe, right? W-we can c-capture her soul-l.”

“It is possible,” Nie said. “It is entirely up to you.”

I could not stand idly, but neither did I dare step closer to them. I began walking around the star while keeping my distance. I found it difficult to believe it was really Nightmare Moon. But that mad grin, the look in her eyes...

“How's Veiled Quill?” she asked.

I stopped pacing.

She put her broken hoof to the side of her head and rubbed, looking away for a second. “Oh, I see. Yes, you've met her, you sly little fiend. Ah, but does she know—”

Her body convulsed, making Nightmare Moon heave as though about to throw up. She snapped her head up, eyes growing wide and desperate. “Mama!” she screamed to the sky before snapping her fangs shut on her tongue.

She straightened herself, then spat blood from her tongue.

“What a wilful young thing she is,” she said. “A lot like you, Crescent Strike.”

“Page!” I called out. Her eyes shifted momentarily, and I thought I saw a glint of hesitation before Nightmare Moon fully regained control.

Because New Page was still in there – and I had to get her back. Let this be the one good thing I'll ever do. That became the only thing in my mind, Nie and Nichts be damned. I did not care for them, or what might happen to me.

“I know you can hear me, Page,” I said, approaching the swirling lights.

“I warn you,” said Nie. “No further.”

River stepped up. Though he put on a resolute façade, I saw his legs tremble. “You must have a contingency plan,” he said. “You can't be certain this will work.”

Nie said nothing.

“The jar,” Lullaby said.

River looked at the jar under Nichts' hoof, then at the scar on Nightmare Moon's chest. I saw the revelation in his expression – and so did I understand the purpose of the jar.

Nightmare Moon closed her eyes and smiled slyly. “You will die before you touch it.”

River gritted his teeth. Lullaby stepped up beside him.

“Lies!” Lullaby said. “Look at you, you are pathetic! Chained by the magic of a mere child.”

Nightmare Moon's face contorted with disgust. “They have perverted my own powers to serve their quaint little game. Look at this... Nichts.” She stuck out her tongue and spat as though trying to get rid of some bad taste. “Her magic could barely squash an ant without the amulet around her neck.”

River laughed, taking another step. “You're afraid, aren't you? You know we can hurt you.”

Nie reared – eyes still on Nightmare Moon. “Silence!” he shouted. “You don't know what you're dealing with. Don't you dare take another step.”

“N-Nie,” said Nichts, “w-what do I—”

“Focus!” he screamed. “Block them out. Keep her chained.”

Nichts curled over the jar to protect it with her body, jaw clenched.

“No,” said Nightmare Moon. “I'd like to see you try. Go on.” A grin that was a little bit too wide crept up her lips. “Take the jar. Take it and smash it.”

River and Lullaby exchanged a look.

“No,” I said. “You can't do that. Please.” I placed a hoof on Lullaby's back. “Big girl, please—”

River rammed me, knocking me to the floor. “You've done enough!” he yelled. “She deserves to die.”

“Shut up!” I tried to get onto my hooves – but Lullaby shoved me back down. I struggled, and she climbed onto me, grabbing my hooves and pinning my down. “Big girl, please—”

“It's over, Swift,” she said, her voice cold and expression scolding. “Page is already dead. Stay down.”

She gave me one last, piercing stare, then turned and bolted towards Nichts. River rushed beside her.

“No!” I yelled, jumping to my hooves to pursue them. I knew I couldn't catch them, but I didn't care. I'd served with these ponies for decades, called them my brothers and sisters and friends, and I'd have fought both of them in a heartbeat if it meant saving Page.

I galloped only a few steps behind them, but they were too fast. River and Lullaby reached Nichts, and they leapt at her at the same time – only to be caught mid-air by a dark aura. Before I realised what happened, an enormous kick in my stomach stopped me dead in my tracks and an invisible force flung me across the room. I landed with a roll and hit my head. My ears rang and my visions went blurry for a second.

I jumped to my hooves again, still shaking from the landing. River and Lullaby flailed desperately in the air, just out of reach of Nichts and the jar, inside a black cloud. At first I thought it was Nichts' magic – but then I realised that her magic wasn't black.

Nightmare Moon cackled. Her laughter ended in a sigh as she slowly shook her head. “But I told them, didn't I?”

“I c-cant contain-n her,” said Nichts, voice echoing ethereally all around us. “She's too strong. She's pouring through the cracks.”

“You still don't get it, do you?” asked Nightmare Moon. “You are still alive because I allow it. You are not my captors. I am yours.” She cocked her head towards Nichts. “Don't stop. I still don't have all my power. I'd appreciate if you worked faster, child. Perhaps I shall make your death painless if you impress me.”

“N-Nie—”stammered Nichts.

“Do not listen to her!” Nie cut in. “We need her, all of her. Only then can we save her. Continue.”

Nightmare Moon's horn flashed, and the dark envelope of magic brought River and Lullaby closer to me – but she didn't let them go. The two of them writhed and flapped their wings in vain attempts to break free from the aura that gripped them.

“To show you my good will,” said the Nightmare, “I will only kill one of them. Who shall it be, Crescent Strike?”

“What?” I asked. “You can't expect me to—”

“If you don't,” she chortled, “I'll just kill them both.”

River groaned, twisting his body mid-air to look at Nightmare Moon. “You sick... you deranged fu—”

His voice caught and her body pulsed, hind legs snapping together – an invisible force had apparently kicked him in the groin. He squealed quietly, too proud to yell in pain, too weak to contain it.

“I can't...” I mumbled.

Lullaby's face had gone blank, her eyes wide and staring at nothing. I'd never known her to panic – I supposed this was the moment she realised she was probably going to die. None of them looked at me. Part of me was grateful for that.

“I can't just choose.”

At once, one of Lullaby's and River's front hooves both bent backwards; the snapping of bone and their sudden wails of pain resounded across the room, giving me a jump and leaving me with a shiver. I found myself gritting my teeth and shaking.

River hissed, grasping his broken leg. He gave Lullaby a look – she didn't return it – then turned to me. “Yes you can choose, Swift,” he said. “Yes you can.”

Lullaby looked at me, teeth clenched to bear the pain, her eyes blank as before. She didn't say a word, and I couldn't tell whether she agreed with River. I didn't think she could, either. She just stared, wall-eyed, not at me but through me.

“I hate you, River,” I replied. “But don't think for a single moment—”

Their hooves bent the wrong way again, and they cried out in pain. Nightmare Moon grinned.

I turned away. “Let Lullaby go.”

“What's that?” asked Nightmare Moon, leaning forward and batting an ear my way. “I'm sorry, I don't quite understand that phrase, 'let go'.”

Taking a deep breath, I looked into her eyes. I'd be lying if I said I never had fantasies of doing horrible things to River. I might have said things, absent-mindedly, that I never really meant. Now I needed all my strength to will my tongue to move, to say those words.

“Kill...” I gulped. Nightmare Moon smiled. “Kill River Flow.”

“It's fine, Swift,” River groaned past his pain. “It really is. I've been waiting for this anyway.”

Lullaby shook her head. “Swift,” she whispered. “Small boy, you idiot—” Another crack echoed across the room – one of Lullaby's hind legs broke with a crunch. She clenched her teeth to suppress her cry of agony. “Y-you know w-who this is, don't you?”

“What?” I asked, looking at the grinning Nightmare Moon. “You—”

The aura around River dissipated, letting him fall to the floor. With two broken hooves, he couldn't get up; he just clambered and crawled helplessly on the floor to create distance between himself and the monster. I saw his eyes turn upwards and the light go out of them as he lost consciousness. No wonder, with the shock he'd suffered and all the blood he'd lost.

I could do nothing but watch as Nightmare Moon's magic crushed Lullaby.

“Nightmare Moon!” I screamed, blood boiling with impotent, desperate anger. I knew I was powerless – and that only made me all the more furious. “I'll make you pay for this, I'll—”

“Shut up, small boy,” admonished Lullaby through her teeth. Her voice was barely stronger than a dying whisper. “Shut up,” she repeated. Her face screwed up with pain – but in her eyes all I saw was a scolding look.

The dark aura condensed around her chest, forcing the air out in a feeble whimper. Her fourth hoof broke in half, then all her legs crumpled like paper, the sound of her cracking bones resounding across the room, spurts of blood splattering all over the floor. Another pained cry resounded behind her bared, tightly clenched teeth.

As Nightmare Moon twisted her around, pulling and stretching, I felt my own hooves curl inwards. My mind barely recognised Lullaby as a pony any more – I almost forgot it was her I was seeing, and not a tattered piece of cloth. Her body contorted, and I cringed with the pain I couldn't feel; every crunch resonated within my own bones. I wanted it to stop; I needed it to stop.

I could only watch and tremble, and the Nightmare revelled in that fact.

Lullaby shut her eyes tight and kept her teeth clenched, moaning quietly at every pop and tear of her joints as Nightmare Moon reduced her body to a writhing mass of flesh and splintered bone. Oh, she squirmed, but Lullaby – stubborn, strong, perfect Lullaby – refused to scream.

Slowly, Nightmare Moon's grin dissolved. Her aura let go for a moment, enough to let Lullaby hit the floor. Then the darkness wrapped around the limb of flesh that was her hind hoof and dragged Lullaby across the floor, leaving a bloody trail along the way. When Nightmare Moon pulled Lullaby to herself, she lifted her into the air again; as the magic yanked her, I heard skin tear.

“Scream,” commanded the Nightmare, twisting Lullaby's body like she was wringing a common rag. “Scream!” Her magic pressed harder on her, contorting her legs back into themselves.

Lullaby opened her eyes, and she stared Nightmare Moon down. I saw her entire body convulse as she moved her tongue about. She gathered her last drops of strength – and tried to spit at Nightmare Moon.

She failed. The glob of bloody spit drooped down her cheek from loose, quavering lips, the air in her lungs seeping through her pulverised chest.

With a furious howl, Nightmare Moon sent her flying at the massive hourglass by the wall. Lullaby impacted head first. Her crumpled body fell convulsing under the breaking hourglass, neck bent at an awkward angle. Blood seeped from the countless tears in her flesh, tinting red the shards of glass around her.

Gradually, the twitching died down.

Nightmare Moon sighed. “Good riddance. I never did like her, anyway.”

“I'm s-sorry,” mumbled Nichts.

Oh, now you speak. I wished I could tear Nichts apart as Nightmare Moon had torn Lullaby. No, I would do worse, so much worse. But I could not because the same monster protected her; she knew better than to bite the hoof that fed her.

“Page told us about you, Flora Dawn.” As I said her name, her gaze twitched over to me, just for a fraction of a moment before returning to Nightmare Moon. “When you ran away, did you think you'd become a murderer?”

“Do not listen to them,” warned Nie.

“I am-m not a murderer-r,” Nichts said, her voice echoing eerily through clenched teeth.

Nightmare Moon turned to her. “But you are, my dear.” She glanced at Lullaby's body. “You have been for a long time.”

“Focus,” said Nie. “Shut it out. Concentrate on the spell and—”

“Hush!” Nightmare Moon raised a hoof, turning to a curtained window. “I can feel Celestia's magic tingling me. She's lowering the Moon. If you truly wish to release me, now is the time to break the last of my soul's shackles.”

Nichts looked at Nie. Nie sent me a look. “If you interfere,” he said, “Nightmare Moon will once again be set loose upon the world.” With that, he turned to Nichts. “Set her free.”

“A-are you s-sure—”

“Do it.”

Nichts took a deep breath, closing her eyes. When she opened them, they glowed with blinding white light, and her amulet lit up brighter. Her horn pulsated in red and white, her aura swirling around it, growing, surging until it came undone in an enormous wave of energy that shot out to the ceiling.

The lights arced in the air, turning to cascade onto Nightmare Moon. She reared and spread her wings, opening her mouth wide to drink in the magic.

I could've tackled Nichts, perhaps; she seemed to be the key to the ritual, and interrupting her should have put an end to it. As I sized her up, I saw Nightmare Moon wink at me across the lights. Even if I made it there, there was no telling what interrupting this magic might do.

Or I might have tried to smash the jar – and kill New Page. I'd sooner let the world end than harm her.

Nie's eyes lit up brightly as well, casting ethereal red flames. “Look at me, Luna!”

Nightmare Moon's gaze snapped onto him. Her grin quickly dissolved into an expression of horror. “What?” she asked, lifting a hoof to shield her eyes. “No, you can't. Impossible!”

“Put your hoof down,” ordered Nie.

She did so – and my jaw dropped.

As the red and white lights consumed Nightmare Moon, Nie began walking closer to her. “Now you will listen to me,” he said. “This is not you, Princess Luna. Equestria needs you. Your sister needs you.”

She stared into his eyes, frozen in place. “My... sister?”

“She is lost without you,” Nie continued. “Let go of your hatred, Princess Luna.”

For a moment, I thought I saw understanding in her eyes. Then Nightmare Moon's wicked snarl returned. “I gave you your power! You cannot use it against me!”

“You've said it yourself: it's not our power, but yours.” Nie reached out, placing his hoof on the amulet hanging from Nightmare Moon's neck. “Deep inside of you, you are still connected to the Elements of Harmony. Reach out to them, let this piece of your soul guide the way. Let them help you. Let them in.”

She, too, looked down at the amulet, and a spark seemed to light up in her eyes.

“Come back to us, Princess Luna,” Nie finished.

Her eyes went wide.

In one last burst of light, the entire room was bathed in magic. I had to close my eyes and cover them with my wing, lest I'd have gone blind. I felt the rushing air brush my coat and wave my mane. Prickly, ionised air filled my lungs.

Slowly, the lights dissipated. My ears rang for a while; as my eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room, my hearing returned as well.

The magic was gone. The powerful lights of the summoning star and its many runes had winked out. The only thing that illuminated the room now was the ambient magical light that permeated all of the Star Swirl the Bearded Wing. Even the glowing of Page's amulet had subsided.

There stood the thing wearing New Page's skin, tall and silent; Page's dark grey mane had turned a spectral blue and it wafted gently in the stillness off the room. Faded spots of black littered her brown coat. With her elongated form, Page far more resembled the true Princess of the Night than her true self.

She smiled, placing a hoof on Nie's cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered softly.

“Did it...” muttered Nichts. “Did it work?”

Nightmare Moon hugged Nie close. I could not believe my eyes.

Nichts jumped for joy, clapping her hooves and squealing like the excited child she was. “We did it, we did!”

I took a fearful, cautious step. “Luna?”

She looked at me, and her smile brought with it the warm caress of a gentle summer night. My heart fluttered at the sight; I had not felt like this in two decades.

“Your eyes do not deceive you,” she said. She sounded just like Luna. “It is I.”

Nichts gasped, and her ears pinned back. “By the Moon, I'm so sorry.” She dropped to her knees and kissed the floor before the Princess. “Princess Luna, it is a tremendous honour.”

“Rise,” she said. “You shall be righteously rewarded.” She took a look at the broken hourglass and Lullaby's body under it; she quickly had to turn the other way, only for the sight of River's tortured body to greet her. Closing her eyes, she sighed. “Such a regretful waste of life. Words cannot express my regret.”

“What of Page?” I asked.

“Y-yes,” said Nichts. “What about her?”

Luna looked surprised for a moment. Then she looked herself over. “Oh, this filly. Yes, I can sense her soul inside of me. She is very well, although it is a little crowded in here.” She brushed her chest briefly, then touched a hoof to her forehead. “She is flattered by your concern.”

“Then we should get her out of there quickly.” Nichts ran with a spring in her step towards a hallway. “I'll get the Soul Gem and—”

“Wait,” said Luna, to which Nichts stopped.

Nie picked up the jar with Page's glowing heart. He didn't say anything, he just smiled as he held it.

“This should come first,” Luna said – and her voice quickly took on an urging tone. “I am feeling awfully light-headed. You can put the heart back, can you not, child?”

“Oh, but of course, Your Highness!” Nichts bowed again, her magic taking the jar from Nie. “If you'll follow me...”

Luna didn't move.

Nichts raised a brow. “Princess Luna? This way.”

Her pleasant smile appeared frozen on her face. Her eye – the one that didn't have Nightmare Moon's slit pupil – twitched once. “It hurts,” she said.

“I'm sorry, Your Highness. We'll get you sorted right away.” She giggled nervously, rubbing her hooves. “B-but we can't very well do it here, can we?”

The smile on Page's face faded. Her body stood completely still, expression entirely blank.

Nichts glanced at Nie. “What's going on, Nie? Is she alright?”

Nie's sole response was jerking his head her way. His smile was still frozen onto his expression; even I couldn't help but feel uneasy.

“No,” said Luna, slowly craning her head towards Nichts. “She's torturing me. Inside.” Her voice was but an emotionless monotone. “Not Luna. She's lying, Flora. Pretending. It hurts. Kill me. Please, kill me.”

Before Nichts could stagger away, she leapt and pinned Nichts to the floor, shouting at the top of her lungs, “By the stars, please, kill me! It hurts!”

Blood spurted forth from both of Nie's eyes, and he fell like a marionette with cut strings.

“Page!” I jumped into the air and swooped down on Nightmare Moon, tackling her to the floor.

Nichts quickly grabbed the floating jar and reared on her hind legs.

“No!” I yelled, looking up.

She whipped her hooves downwards as though to smash the jar, but stopped in the last second, holding on to it. She pulled it up and clutched it to her chest, falling to her haunches.

Nightmare Moon kicked me off and sent me flying across the room.

And she laughed. “Can't kill your little friend, can you?”

Her dark aura enveloped the jar and tore it from her grasp, at the same time kicking Nichts' hooves from under her. Nichts crawled backwards until she hit the wall. I watched the scene play out before me, for fear of what might happen to me if I intervened.

“And it was going so well,” said Nightmare Moon with a sigh. “Do I have to do everything myself?” Her aura pinched Nichts' amulet and began tugging at it. “Take it off,” she said.

Nichts' gaze darted between the Princess standing over her and the limp body of her beloved Prophet. “Nie, you said she'd save us. Luna, you were supposed to save us.”

Nightmare Moon leaned down to her and pressed her grin into her face. Nichts couldn't look in her eyes any more, turning instead to look at the dead Nie.

Nightmare Moon licked Nichts' cheek. She shook head to hoof as though rocked by a sudden cold gust. As Nichts whimpered in fear, Nightmare Moon's eyes shot up and she licked her lips, grinning in depraved pleasure. Her hind legs seemed to tremble softly, and I thought I saw something glisten under her tail.

“Please, Nie, say something!” squealed Nichts, voice trembling and face scrunching with fear and repulsion. “You're never wrong!”

Darkness collected around her and lifted her up. She refused to look at Nightmare Moon, but the aura turned her face towards her.

“Go on,” said Nightmare Moon. “Tell your friend you're sorry. She can hear you, I assure you.”

Nichts burst with tears. “Page...” she began, gasping for air. “Page, I'm—”

Magic twisted her head back with a terrible snap and ripped open her throat – I shuddered at the sound. Giving one last convulsion, Nichts' body fell limp. Then the head kept twisting, cocking this way and that until Nightmare Moon popped it off like the cork of a bottle.

She threw the body one way and pulled the amulet from the stump of her neck like a ring from a finger. Then the aura dissipated, letting the head fall as the amulet floated up beside the jar.

Backing away, I stepped over River's unconscious body. Lullaby's crushed corpse still rested under the hourglass, Nie lay collapsed and unmoving near the centre of the star, and Nichts' torn body was in plain sight. Page, oh, naïve, innocent New Page – not a minute spent sharing a body with Nightmare Moon, and she was already begging to die.

As Nightmare Moon turned her eyes to me, I realised just how tiny I truly was.

She grinned. A tendril of chilling darkness reached out from her horn and licked my chin, sending shivers through my body. “I like you, Cresent Strike. You know your place. You'll make a good soldier for me again. But now, I have some urgent business to attend. A mare must tend to her own health, and...” She looked the other way, perking her ears to the ceiling. “I sense a certain somepony is displeased and on her way.”

Magic gathered around her horn, sucking in the light of the room. A sphere of utter blackness grew at the tip, and when it was as large as her own head, the magic shot forth to the ceiling.

The energies rumbled as they tore across the enchanted tiles and ate the rock of the mountain, burning a clear path to the sky above. There was no falling debris, not an errant speck of dust; her magic consumed everything in its path, creating a hole almost as wide as the room.

It was still dark outside, and the Moon shone bright – but the Mare in the Moon was nowhere to be seen.

She spread her deformed wings wide, and her magic brought Nichts' amulet and jar close to her. With a single jump, she shot into the sky. Her laughter echoed across the city. I saw her leave across the darkness, glowing like a rising star in a swirl of magic and hate.

My legs gave way, and I fell to my haunches. I could only watch as Nightmare Moon flew higher and higher.

So it begins anew, I thought. The Longest Night.

I didn't have the strength – or rather, the will – to flee. None could hide from the Nightmare. This time, I would get to experience it as a victim. I couldn't decide if that was just deserts or not.

There was a flash of yellow light and the sound of thunder high above, higher even than Nightmare Moon. Then another one, and then a third shook the city – the final blast exploding exactly on top of the tiny point of light that was Nightmare Moon. I felt the aftershocks in my hooves.

Something flickered in the light of the Moon as it flew away in the wake of the third blast – and something else plummeted, straight back down to the Archives.

Nightmare Moon crashed into the centre of the star, landing with her back and clinging desperately to the jar between her hooves. The floor cracked under the impact and the entire wing resounded with it. I could not see Nichts' amulet.

She didn't even look at me, raising instead her trembling hooves and singed wings slackly to shield herself.

Celestia appeared before us in a blinding flash of light. She stood tall as Nightmare Moon dragged herself pathetically the other way with an expression of pure hate.

Princess Celestia bore no emotion, but her eyes and horn glowed with white-hot fire that brought the heat of the midday Sun to the Archives. “Not again,” she said. Her magic wrapped around Nightmare Moon, picking her up – and with a thunderous bang another magical blast sent her across the room.

She crashed through a bookshelf and kept going, only coming to a stop at the next one. Decades-old dust and yellowed pages swelled and scattered in the air as a pile of books buried her.

Celestia walked with the steps of a pony with all the time in the world, taking absolutely no heed of my presence. “Did you think to face me in the body of an infant?” she asked. “You have truly gone mad.”

Nightmare Moon dragged herself from the collapsed pile of shelves and torn papers, straightening her back and raising her chin high to face Celestia. Even with her malformed body, she still wasn't quite tall enough to meet her. The jar floated up beside her.

“Oh, sister...” She spat a bloody glob to the floor. Her voice shook and her legs could barely carry her weight, but she forced a grin onto her twitching lips. “I've missed you so much.”

A magical shockwave kicked Nightmare Moon's hooves from under her; her jaw impacted the floor and I thought I heard a crack. The dark aura around the jar dispersed – but Celestia's bright magic caught it, bringing it over to her.

“What has become of you, Luna?”

Nightmare Moon slid a hoof across the floor – smearing its path with blood from the myriad cracks on its surface – trying to stand up, but Celestia's aura pushed her back down. The Nightmare craned her neck to look her sister in the eye.

“Luna is dead,” she said.

The façade of Celestia's stone-cold expression broke for just a moment. Her eye twitched.

Nightmare Moon grinned. “She is dead, and you killed her.”

Celestia snarled. “I did not!” The glowing of her eyes subsided – revealing swelling tears in their corners. She raised a leg and stomped down hard on Nightmare Moon's neck. “You did.”

She kicked her in the stomach, with enough force to make her slide the other way. Nightmare Moon grasped convulsively at her chest, gagging and gasping for air.

“You killed her!” shouted Celestia. “You took her away from me!”

From up above, through the hole where the ceiling used to be, descended the Royal Guards, too many to count. They kept a safe distance from the alicorns, tending instead to the bodies that littered the room.

A pair of them came up to me and stood me up. They blabbered something, asking my name and who I was and what I was doing there, threatening with this or that if I didn't speak; I couldn't care less about them. I could only watch in silence as Princess Celestia brutalised a helpless Nightmare Moon.

She was hurting Page.

Had it not been for the seething magic of the Princess of the Night flowing through her veins, that fragile body would have given out long ago.

But Nightmare Moon was inside her, and Celestia knew it – she kicked her and threw her around, combining magic with her own bare hooves.

Celestia's aura condensed around the stub of Nightmare Moon's horn, tearing it from its place and casting it aside.

“Do you ever think about all those you've killed?!” she screamed, pummelling Nightmare Moon's head, the floorboards cracking under it. It was as if Celestia's body moved on its own; her face was streaked in tears, and her voice shook with choked cries at every word she spoke.

Her aura enveloped Nightmare Moon, dragging the slack body to her level so she could look in her eyes. “Do you remember the souls who have suffered because of you? Not again, monster. Not again.”

The Royal Guards brought a pair of cuffs to bind my hooves. I let them.

Nightmare Moon grinned again, the skin on her cheeks splitting like old parchment. Blood ran down her chin. She turned her eyes at the jar that floated beside Celestia. “Do you know what that is?” she asked.

Celestia dropped Nightmare Moon to the floor.

“It is the heart of an innocent pony,” the Nightmare continued, motioning at her chest. “Smash the jar, Celestia. I know you want to do it.”

“What happens to you if this mortal coil dies?”

Nightmare Moon coughed. “What happens to a soul when its body dies?”

The jar floated before Celestia. She looked inside, then at Nightmare Moon. Her face scrunched with disgust and her lips contorted into a snarl.

“Do it,” whispered Nightmare Moon.

Celestia tipped her head, the jar following her motion with a sudden jerk. Her horn flashed and the magic flung the jar upwards – up through the hole in the ceiling, spinning, glistening in the moonlight, swiftly receding into the distance.

At the same time, a Royal Guard tried to bind my wings.

I kicked him off and ran.

The shackles around my legs caught my step. A flap of my wings saved me from tripping.

I shot into the air, wings beating with all my might. I did not care for the weight of the chains.

Royal Guards followed me. But I was faster.

My joints burned. Never in my life had I flown so fast.

Coming up to the city, I saw a faint flicker of light across the air. The Archives were at the very edge of the city, and Celestia's magic had propelled the jar over the precipice. It flew over the city walls, its arc bringing it to plummet into the depths under the great mountain. I followed, faster than the wind itself.

The city wall rushed underneath me, and the sharp, rocky surface of the mountain, and then the staggering drop where Equestria lay at my hooves.

I swooped as fast as I could. Faster than I ever imagined I could. I reached out my chained hooves to grasp the falling jar. The ground closed in – but I caught it.

I brought Page's heart close to my own as I slowed down. Finally, not far above the forest at the base of the mountain, I managed to stop – and I cradled Page close. No cracks on the jar. She was still alive.

The heart lit up with red light at every beat. They came slowly now, the glow fading.

But I had her. Her heart may have been weak, but mine pounded away.

“Stop!” yelled a Royal Guard. An entire squadron descended around me. “You will come w—”

“My name is Swift Sweep,” I said, “of the Equestrian Bureau for State Security.” I looked into their eyes, one by one – and saw each of them fly a little backwards.

Without wasting another word, I turned upwards. I flew up the mountain and into the city and down the hole that led to the Star Swirl the Bearded Wing.

There Celestia stood waiting for me; a dozen guards surrounded the limp body of Nightmare Moon, their spears turned towards her. The fools trembled at every weak twitch of her eyes.

I sat down in front of Celestia, placing my hooves around the jar. Her horn came alive, and I felt a gentle pull at the jar. She could easily have torn it away from me, but instead wished that I let go on my own accord. I would not do that – her piercing, judgemental stare could not make it otherwise.

“Explain yourself,” she demanded. Her chin was so high, she could barely look me in the eye.

“The name of the filly whose body Nightmare Moon inhabits is New Page,” I said. “She is not innocent. In fact, she is directly responsible for the events that transpired here.”

Celestia raised a brow. “So she deserves to die.”

“Yes, Your Highness. She does. But the ultimate blame rests with me. I could have stopped her, yet instead I chose to disregard direct orders and fly in the face of everything the EBSS stands for. I have put the very future of Equestria in danger over a personal whim.”

I took a moment to look through the room. It appeared the Royal Guards have already scraped together the remains of Priestess Nichts, as they have rounded up the bodies of Prophet Nie and my dear friend Lullaby. A group of ponies in white coats tended to a still unconscious River Flow in the corner.

I looked up, at the ceiling that was no longer there. I turned to the trashed shelves and destroyed floor in the wake of Celestia's punishment of her sister.

“All of this could've been prevented,” I continued, “if only I had done my job. If only I had locked this young, ignorant filly in a cell to rot for the rest of her life. But I didn't. Over my investigation of New Page, I have found out that I am her...” I glanced at Nightmare Moon. She started at me intently from beyond the spears turned her way. “I am the reason New Page was born. I could not find it in my heart to turn her in, Your Highness.”

The pull on the jar strengthened – I needed both hooves to keep it in my grasp.

“I joined the EBSS because I believed in you, Your Highness. I still do. I genuinely believe you will bring about a new era of harmony and prosperity. I believe you are better than the Nightmare.”

“Enough,” said Celestia, her magic tearing the jar away from me with a flare of her horn.

“I've performed countless heinous acts in your name because I believe in your greater good. I've done it all like the good dog I am. I did it so that Princess Celestia wouldn't have to.”

Celestia put the jar down and placed her hoof on it. “Look at what your hooves have wrought! You dare patronise me?”

“Please, Your Highness. I know you can cleanse New Page's soul without resorting to...” I looked at the jar, and the weakly beating heart within. Celestia pulled it closer to herself. “I know because you've done it to me, as you've done it to all of us. She does not need to die.”

Celestia gave me a stern glare. “She might die regardless.”

“But she might not,” I replied. “Please, give her a chance. Like you've given us.”

“By your own admission,” she said, “this filly is responsible for unshackling the most wicked monster who had once sought to topple our beautiful Equestria. By your vow to serve me, you have no right to care what happens to her.”

“I care because I'm tired, Your Highness.” I had to swallow; my throat ran dry. “I have served you for twenty years, and your sister before that. I've grown tired of being a dog. I am tired of being the bad stallion who takes Daddy away.”

I made sure to look resolutely, chastisingly in her eyes. Rare it was that somepony stared directly into the Sun.

“I don't know about you, Your Highness, but I...” My voice caught. “I don't...” I felt tears swell in my eyes. But no, I refused to cry. I would not break down. I blinked away those stray tears and stared down the mighty Princess of the Sun; my pride overpowered my fears.

And for just a moment, the fraction of a second, I saw a glint of compassion in her eyes.

“Princess Celestia, I don't want to be a monster any more.”

Once Upon a Time...

Princess Celestia

How dare he. That had been my first thought.

How dare he.

I turned around, leaving the heart for the fool; he could have it if he so desperately needed it.

Oh, what I would have given to kill Nightmare Moon, to rid the world of her blight forever. But I was not like her. The Children of the Night thought that killing innocents was an acceptable sacrifice for a brighter future. I would not prove them right by doing the same.

I called upon the power of the Sun to banish the spirit of Nightmare Moon. New Page's body writhed in agony, every last muscle contorted and all of her being burned from the inside with the might of sunlight. I burned a path through the space beyond spaces, and the Elements of Harmony reclaimed Nightmare Moon's wretched soul, sealing her back into her heavenly tomb.

In her last moment under the skies, Nightmare Moon swore she'd return. She would return, and she would kill me.

I would be waiting.

An enormous cloud of black smoke poured from New Page's mouth, swirling and swelling in the air. The light drove it out of the Archives and up into the sky through the clouds and the space that divided Equestria from the heavens above. There her prison awaited the rogue spirit. As the Mare in the Moon reappeared on the Moon's surface, I wished she'd never return.

The Mare in the Moon never disappeared on that night, not for a second. It did not because I declared it did not. The EBSS was quick to quell rumours to the contrary spread by foolish ponies. I would strike that hateful night from my mind – or if I could not, I'd strike it from the pages of history.

For such is the way of the heart: so impulsive and spiteful one moment, and longing and regretful the next.

Oh, what I would have given to see my beloved sister, to dance again with her across the heavens. As I looked into the eye of the Mare in the Moon, my immortal mind failed to find the words with which to express my love for her.

I sent the body of New Page to the laboratories beneath Canterlot, and had our most brilliant unicorns tend to her. With the help of an eldritch tome the EBSS had earlier confiscated, they were able to place her heart back in her deformed body.

But she did not wake up.

Years passed; they fly by so quickly. The ponies in the labs begged me to get rid of New Page. She would never wake, they told me; she merely took up valuable space and magical resources that could've been far better used for other purposes. I rejected their pleas time and time again. In all the time I'd kept her unconscious body alive, I'd allowed her mother to see New Page exactly once.

She never asked to see her again. She could not bear to look at her baby child, not alive yet not quite dead; a travesty, a husk, a puppet of the daughter Veiled Quill loved.

Swift Sweep, I sent to the mines.

I enjoyed the thought of his suffering; anypony who dared speak in such a tone to the one great Princess of Equestria deserved as much. I'd often visit him and watch with perverted glee as he toiled away with a blunt pickaxe at the thick crystals in the dank, torch-lit depths.

He did not deserve sunlight. He did not deserve anything. For those unfit for anything else, physical labour was their redemption. The crystals they unearthed would help Equestria rise from the ashes.

I hated myself for his torture; I knew deep in my heart he did not deserve it, yet I refused to admit it. He was the only reason I ever ventured into the mines, the sole reason that I ever saw all these ponies deemed undeserving of my presence. Their bones were plain to see under the thin skin that hung loosely from their bodies, and their limbs trembled under the weight of even the smallest tools.

At least the overseers found it in themselves to hide the whips and spiked chains when I arrived. That was good, I thought; I didn't want to see them anyway.

Three years, four months, and sixteen days: that much time passed before New Page first awoke. Although her body had regressed much from the monstrous shape the Nightmare had left it in, she was by no means in good condition.

Her thinned bones had become frail over the years of inactivity, and her atrophied muscles barely carried their own weight. Her bat wing had shrivelled and fallen off, and it would take another year for New Page to walk on her own.

Twelve years, seven months, and three days: that is how long it took for me to finally break. I had Swift Sweep released from the mines – the first of many over the coming decades. I called him to see me in the Palace.

I still remember the way he looked at me. The hateful arrogance in his eyes that he'd shown me on that fateful night was long gone. He was old, and looked older still; the mines had been unkind. He looked at me with the eyes of a broken stallion, with nothing but emptiness behind his glazed, blank stare.

I remember his first words.

“To the EBSS?” he asked.

I shook my head. “In your absence, you have been... dishonourably discharged.”

His brows furrowed deeply, making the wrinkles in his wizened face run even deeper. “The gallows?”

I shook my head again. “You are free to go, Swift Sweep.”

“Free?” He looked at me like he'd forgotten the meaning of the word. “But I am guilty.”

“You have served your sentence.”

“No,” he said. “No!” he burst. Ah, and there it was – the pride again, resurging even after all these years. “Old dogs don't walk free. We have to serve to make up for our sins. To atone.”

I nodded. “You have, Swift Sweep. You are free to go.”

He fell silent.

It took much effort to convince him of his own freedom. When he walked out the door into the sunlight, he swayed slackly side to side as though he'd found himself on a rocking ship. He sat down outside the gates of the Palace. It had long been finished in Swift Sweep's absence; this had been the first time he'd seen it in all its glory. For a while, he simply stared at the sky and the pristine spires of Canterlot. I let him have his peace.

I had great plans for the ages that followed. In time – when I no longer required their services – the EBSS would be dismantled. In the wake of generations, some secrets would be revealed, and many more would be forever erased in flames. For I was Equestria: its rising Sun and its watchful Moon, and the dawn of a new day atop the ashes.

Swift Sweep told me he no longer wanted to be a monster. I came to realise how close I was to slipping on the razor's edge and becoming one myself. Such is the power of a single sentence.

Centuries hence, Equestria would be paradise again – for I was not a monster.

As for New Page... she would play her part as well.

New Page

Most of that fateful night was a blur. Celestia had removed a part of my very soul. She shattered my mind, and when I picked up the pieces, I found memories I'd never had before. Tiny pieces, scraps, half-thoughts appeared and faded every time I closed my eyes.

I was cold. Always, perpetually cold; ever since the fragment of Nightmare Moon's soul left my body, somehow I could never feel whole again. I'd grown too used to it, I suppose. Over the decades, however, I adjusted to the emptiness. I never dreamed of the mare in chains again.

Yet even in Nightmare Moon's absence, her thoughts and feelings ate themselves into my mind. The fires of her anger had burnt out, and in the embers remained only loneliness. I no longer feared her, neither did I hate her. If anything, I pitied her.

I found my little rat hole in the mountainside untouched after being released from the labs; Celestia had seen to it that it was not disturbed. The first thing I did, I remember, was fish out 'Memoirs in the Night' from under my bed.

I recognised these names now, every Night Guard. Nightsong and Crimson Cascade and Silhouette and Dusken Caverns and Crescent Strike and all the rest – I saw their faces before me when I closed my eyes.

When I pictured Crescent Strike in my head, he stared right back. Something about him made my heart flutter. For a long time, I could not tell what it was.

Mama visited me, of course. She would have cried all day on my shoulder, but I told her it hurt. She cried clutching the pillow instead. And it was then, when we were having dinner, that I looked into her eyes and realised why the name of Crescent Strike resonated with me so.

My spoon fell from my hoof, splashing the soup and clattering against the bowl. Mama asked what was wrong.

But there was nothing wrong. In hindsight, it had been obvious.

Ah, but I was busy. I had many lost years of studies to catch up on. I even got a job in the Canterlot Archives – and over the years I rose in the ranks. Eventually, I could peek into scraps of confidential information that confirmed my old suspicions. The logs of Project Bookworm were most eye-opening.

Apparently the scrying crystals had never been removed from my apartment, not even after I'd moved out. Their signals slowly waned through the years until, one by one, they gave out. They'll give somepony a proper fright, I figured, when the obfuscating enchantment fades and the gems become visible.

I don't think I was supposed to get my hooves on the files of Project Heartbreak, but Celestia thoughtfully looked the other way.

I never sought him out, however. Not for a very long time.

I can't remember exactly how many years I let pass. Twenty-nine, or thirty, maybe?

A letter arrived that bore the seal of Princess Celestia. At first, I thought it was a joke. I soon realised how foolish that was, of course. The letter had in it a request: a private assignment of the highest order directly from the Princess herself.

It was late in the afternoon that I climbed to the peak of Canterlot Mountain. Even the beautiful spires of the Palace did not reach so high. I cursed that my lone wing was unable to carry me. But luckily, I'd managed to train my legs enough to make the trip.

Atop a rocky outcrop that overlooked the world, there sat an old, grey pegasus. I don't think he heard me come. His attention was focused solely on the canvas that stood before him, and the brush that stuck out from his mouth.

He dipped the brush in paint, then drew another line across the canvas. Somehow, his painting of Equestria seemed even more beautiful than the real thing.

“It is lovely,” I said.

His ears fluttered, and he turned to face me. The moment our eyes met, he quickly turned away and hung his head.

Gently, I placed a hoof on his shoulder. His wings fluttered in fright.

“I know, Swift,” I whispered. “I know.”

He didn't turn. “I'm sorry,” he muttered around the brush between his teeth. He pretended to work on the painting, but I saw that the tip of the brush did not touch the canvas at all.

“I was wondering if you could help me.”

Meekly, he looked at me. “W-what could I do for you?” His gaze fluttered, looking here and there, never able to look me in the eye for more than a second or two.

“I have been given a task by Celestia,” I said. “I am to write a history book.” I snorted, unable to keep a straight face. My mane fluttered in a gust of wind, and I had to throw it over my shoulder. “Well, not a real history book. A simplified account, if you will. Something for the children of generations to come.” And something that underplays the horrors of true history while shining Celestia's image – but I could not say that out loud.

He turned back to his canvas, dipping the brush in paint. “I'm afraid that I... I don't study history.”

I chuckled. “It's not like that. Like I said, this is for children. It's going to need illustrations, and, well, I've heard your paintings are among the most beautiful Equestria has to offer. I am certain you could help me.”

He didn't answer, instead pressing his brush into the canvas, circling it around inside the Sun. He added orange, yellow, a touch of red, and subtle shades I did not know the name of – I enjoyed watching him work.

When he was done, he leaned back a little to look at the whole picture. His eyes scanned the great Equestrian vista below us, and he nodded to himself.

“You really think...” he mumbled without turning. “You honestly say that I could help you?”

“Yes, Swift.”

Slowly, he turned to me. He sniffled. A tear rolled down his cheek – and then another. The old, wizened stallion broke down crying in front of me, and his wavering lips formed a smile as he nodded and kept nodding, on and on.

“It would be my honour,” he said.

Princess Celestia

“Once upon a time, in the magical land of Equestria, there were two regal sisters who ruled together and created harmony for all the land. To do this, the eldest used her unicorn powers to raise the Sun at dawn. The younger brought out the Moon to begin the night. Thus, the two sisters maintained balance for their kingdom and their subjects: all the different types of ponies.

“But as time went on, the younger sister became resentful. The ponies relished and played in the day her elder sister brought forth, but shunned and slept through her beautiful night! One fateful day, the younger unicorn refused to lower the Moon to make way for the dawn.

“The elder sister tried to reason with her, but the bitterness in the young one's heart had transformed her into a wicked mare of darkness: Nightmare Moon!

“She vowed that she would shroud the land in eternal night. Reluctantly, the elder sister harnessed the most powerful magic known to ponydom: the Elements of Harmony.

“Using the magic of the Elements of Harmony, she defeated her younger sister and banished her permanently in the Moon. The elder sister took on responsibility of both the Sun and the Moon, and harmony has been maintained in Equestria for generations since.”

A young unicorn lay on the lush green grass. Her name doesn't matter. She scanned the book opened in front of her, her eyes going over every line and illustration time and time again, trying to discern the little histories so many had forgotten. She cared nothing for the ponies of the bustling city around her. Lost in thought, she poked a hoof into the book.

“Hmm,” she pondered, “the Elements of Harmony... I know I've heard of those before.”

She looked up to the sky and the pristine spires of Canterlot, hoping to find her answers there.

“But where?”

The Eyes of a Good Pony

Swift Sweep

“So sorry, Mama,” said Page as she cleaned her desk. Papers floated about in the air, books got tossed this way and that, and the desk's drawers bent and slumped under the weight of tomes stuffed hastily into them. “If I'd known you were coming this early, I'd have cleaned up.”

“It's fine,” Veiled Quill replied. “I'm so proud you've got your own home. That's more than we've ever had.” She walked behind the desk and pulled the curtains open. “But you need to let some light in.”

“You've lived in a mansion, Mama.”

“But it wasn't mine. I still live in Oakbranch's attic back home.” She opened the window, the resulting gust sending papers into the air. “And we need some air in here, too.”

“Yes, Mama,” New Page said as she chased the fleeing papers.

Veiled Quill turned to me. “Are you just going to stand there?”

I shook my head, coming to my senses. “No, I'm sorry, I... I'll help. Page, should I—”

Page skipped over a stack of books on the floor and put her front hooves on my chest, attacking with a rapid-fire “No-no-no-no-no...” and pushing me back. “You're a guest, leave it to me.” She went back to cleaning her desk. “It's just, this place is hardly big enough for me, certainly not for three ponies.”

Clopping her hoof on a now-clear – if a bit dusty – desk, she sighed in relief. “Hokay, that's that.” She looked over the mess on the floor, and her sigh turned into a groan. “Maybe you could help a little bit. Just... just push all that stuff to the side, would you? Let's not trample 'em, most of it is Archives property.”

I obliged, taking the books and scrolls and carefully placing them under the full shelf by the wall.

In the meantime, Veiled Quill watched. “Say, Page, would you happen to have any wine on hoof?”

Page shot her a surprised stare. “Isn't it a bit early for that, Mama?”

Veiled Quill chuckled. “You know the world's gone mad when the student is telling her mother to cut back on the wine. No, but really, don'cha have any?”

“I... might have a bottle back here.” She pulled out a drawer on her desk and began taking out all the parchments she'd just stuffed in there. “It was actually a gift from Storming on my last birthday. I'm not sure if I've opened it...” The drawer got jammed as she tried to pull it out; after some useless budging and muttered cursing, Page decided to just dive in, head, hooves, and all.

The desk echoed with wooden smacks as she pushed things around in there, trying to mine her way to the very back. While she was busy there, Veiled Quill leaned subtly closer to me.

“Don't think I'm not on to you,” she whispered, eyes casting sparks. With every word she spoke, I found myself shrinking a little farther away, and she leaned in ever more. “If you touch her, if I even catch you looking there, I swear on the righteous Sun I'll take a pair of hedge trimmers to your—”

“I can hear you, Mama,” came Page's muffled voice from the drawer.

As Veiled Quill turned back towards her daughter, a smile replaced her murderous frown. “Of course you can, Loony.”

Page bumped her head into the desk before she managed to pull it out, motes of dust in her coat and mane. “Mama!”

Giggling, Veiled Quill turned to me. “Told me she was in love with the Moon when she was just a little filly, she did.”

I was still far too shocked – more by her sudden shift in attitude than the threat – to answer. I just nodded a weak “Uh-huh.”

Page slowly shrunk under the desk. “Mama, I told you not to talk about that.”

“But it was so cute!” Veiled Quill went to pull her from under the desk, and she dusted off her muzzle and mane in the process. “I take it you didn't find that bottle.”

Page brushed off her mother's hooves and fixed her mane. “No. I could, er, get some.”

“If I may chime in,” I began, “Page told me she actually has a lesson to go to.” I knew I came here on my own accord, but the urge to flee rose by the second. Surely Page wouldn't leave me alone with her mother.

“Don't be ridiculous,” Page said, sending her mother a wink. “I think I can miss one lesson, just this once. You two stay here, I'll go get a bottle.”

Veiled Quill and I exchanged a look. I couldn't hold her gaze for long before I turned back to Page. “You know, I really don't think I should—”

“No, no,” she said, grabbing my shoulder with one hoof and pulling her mother closer with her other. “You two work things out while I'm out, you'll have a few minutes.” She turned to Veiled Quill. “He's nice, Mama. Really.” She turned to me. “And she's a gem, trust me, Swift. Just a little protective.”

She released us from her grip, snatched a satchel of bits and went for the door.

“I mean it,” she said before walking out. “Talk.” She cast her mother a glare. “I'm sure it'll be easier if I'm not here.”

With my eyes on the floor, I heard the door open and close; Page left. I stood like that for a short while, not saying anything, afraid to look at Veiled Quill.

Afraid! A new feeling, that.

“I don't want to lose her,” she said. I looked up; she wasn't looking at me. One of her forelegs nervously scratched the other, and she had her eyes turned to the window, ears pinned back. “I'm terrified of losing her. I think she knows, but by Celestia, I'm too proud to say it in front of her.”

Grey hairs spotted her once-pristine coat. Though the light made her face shine, it could not hide the bags under her eyes or the sagging of her cheeks. The years had not been kind to her toned form and slender legs. Her silky mane had once smelled of ambrosial soaps and glistened with the light of stars; today she had it in a bun behind her head, loose ends sticking sorely out and seeming ready to break and tear at the slightest pull. But her eyes hadn't changed.

She was beautiful. Not in a way a hot-blooded stallion might see her, but in the way of an exquisite painting – a vision on a sleepless night. Something to be admired but never touched, lest you stain its perfect image.

I remembered the way I'd left her so long ago: soggy, sobbing, broken, slack. Yet here she was now, having travelled across the entire country to meet her daughter. Where I still struggled to contain the shaking of my legs, she stood tall on her own four hooves, back straight and eyes shining. She'd risen above.

A stronger pony than I was. Looking at her there, I realised I wasn't the only one to wear a mask in front of New Page.

“You're lucky to have her,” I said, making her turn to me. I flinched under her gaze. “I can tell you love each other very much. There is no shame in wanting to know she's safe.” I looked myself over. “I also understand how I might come off as dangerous.”

She pursed her lips. “Actually, I don't recall hearing your name.”

“Swift Sweep,” I said. “Page just calls me Swift. And you would be...”

“Veiled Quill.” She got on the tips of her hooves and leaned closer to get a good look at me. I resisted the urge to shrink away. She eyed me up and down, finally fixing her stare in my eyes, squinting as though looking for something inside of me. My heart began to beat faster. She can't know who I am. There is no way. She can't, she can't... I did my best to retain my composure.

“Yeah,” she sighed, coming back down. She turned and dropped onto Page's bed.

She sat at first, but quickly decided to lie down, putting her chin on the worn pillow. The thing looked old, and even before Veiled Quill placed her head there you could make out the general shape of Page's head – and her mother's fit squarely within the mould.

“You're alright,” she mumbled. Her eyes shut and her brows furrowed as she let loose a weary, exhausted sigh. Turning to her side, she slightly raised one of her hind legs to tuck her tail in between. “I didn't realise how tired I am.”

“Um...” I muttered. “I can assure you, I would never hurt Page. I care nothing for such pleasures, anyway.”

She flicked her ears, but her eyes stayed shut. “I get it. Like I told you, you're fine.” She threw a limp leg over her eyes. “Let me sleep.”

I took a step back. “Certainly, but...” I bit my lip. “I don't have a key to lock the door.”

She turned the other way, and I heard her scoff. “If a bad pony just barged in, that would reflect terribly on Celestia's perfect little world up here, don'cha think? I'll put my faith in her goons to keep the peace.”

I looked up at the ceiling, to a point where I'd put a surveillance crystal. “Yes, I suppose that's right. Rest well.”

As Veiled Quill mumbled her agreement, I went to close the curtains on the window. I took one last look at the ceiling before walking out the door. You'd better protect her sleep, Lullaby.

New Page

I saw Swift flying away as I returned – and quite swiftly too, so I didn't have a chance to talk to him. Considering how quickly he fled the scene, I feared I might find Mama a rampaging harpy. I certainly didn't expect to see her sleeping peacefully on the bed. My coming in did not wake her.

Her trip to Canterlot must've taken her days, if not over a week. No matter how much she insisted it had been nothing, I could tell it put a toll on her. No wonder. I wished they'd just finish that damn train line already. I cast a glance towards the Palace, its spires covered in scaffolds and swarms of pegasi workers whirling around it. I guess Celestia has other priorities.

I couldn't help looking at Mama with a newfound sense of sadness. She'd always refused to talk about the Longest Night, no matter how much I asked – and now I knew why. The realisation made my stomach clench. All my life, I've been living a false history invented by Mama. But why? For my sake? For her own sanity?

No wonder she drank.

I wasn't too keen on wines, or any sort of alcohol, really. The stallion at the Pristine Pillars said this would be fitting as a gift for somepony who was, though. By the discount price tag, however, I had to question the veracity of the claim. As I placed the bottle onto my desk, Mama's ear flicked, and she woke up with a deep breath.

She opened her eyes briefly, looked at me, then glanced at the bottle. Then she shut them again. “Thank you, Loony.”

I sat down at the foot of the bed, doing my best to leave her space. “So, you and Swift... did you talk?”

“He's alright.”

“So where'd he go?”

“Like I know.” She turned towards me, but kept her eyes shut. “Wherever. Would've been awfully rude of him to stay and watch, don'cha think?”

“Of course.” I fiddled with my hooves for a bit. “Mama?”

“Yes, Loony?”

“Did Papa fight well?”

Her eyelids slowly slid open. She propped up her upper body with a hoof and gradually raised herself, brows furrowing. She looked incredulously at me – her lips weren't closed entirely. “What do you mean?”

“He saved us, didn't he?” I put my hooves in my lap. I didn't want to look at Mama. “He stopped those two monsters, didn't he?”

She scooted over to put her hooves around me. “Of course he did. He's the only reason we're both still alive.” Her voice was growing shaky; I heard her swallow hard before continuing. “Why do you ask?”

“I just...” I looked the other way. It's just that he wasn't my Papa, was he? “It's just that I wish I'd have gotten to know him.”

“Hey now, don't feel sad.” She pretended to brush my tears away, though I had none. She did. “He wouldn't want you to be sad.”

“I'm not sad. Not everypony has a hero for a Papa.”

She hugged me close, resting her chin on my shoulder. “You know, I promised myself I'd be here for you in his place too.” She put her hoof under my chin to turn my face to her. “That's why I come off a little... overzealous sometimes.”

I embraced her, tackling her onto the bed. Because it didn't matter who Papa was, or who he wasn't. He was my Papa, and nopony could ever take his place. Not even if I'd never met him.

As we lay there, Mama petted my back and mane. Used to be that on cold winter nights. When we couldn't afford firewood, we'd sleep like this to help keep warm. Well, that was when I still fit in her lap.

I didn't want to let go. For the first time in my life, I knew she needed these moments far more than I ever had.

The mare in chains strained against the hooks under her skin, tearing flesh and popping joints. She snorted and spat madly through the muzzle that bound her mouth, and she carved the bare, white earth with her hooves. Her wings slipped and slid underneath the binds that circled her chest, her chains rattled, and the weights that hung from her legs pummelled the rocks below with her every jerk.

She never used to be this violent. The night I touched the Soul Gem, she'd lost her composure; she never sang any more. Struggle as she might, however, she could not break loose. My presence, I think, taunted her. For I was free to walk around in her eternal prison, and when I woke up, I'd be free to walk Equestria. The chains that held her neck in place tightened as she leaned forwards.

A snap: a hook tore out her nape and fell slack to the ground, eliciting a muffled scream through her contorted grin. She forced her head forwards, thrusting out her chin and muzzle to a point where they almost touched mine.

From the mist behind her, two more hooks on chains flung themselves at her like a pair of striking snakes, digging into her neck and pulling her back. Her eyes widened with pain, but her grin did not waver.

Her eyes met mine again. Then she looked at my right wing, and I felt it burn under her stare.

The heat rose steadily in my wing. It hurt immensely, but I didn't scream. I did not panic, though as I turned my head I saw flames devouring my feathers and eating my flesh. I looked on with the calmness of reading a book; conscious on some level of what was happening before my eyes, but unable to truly feel the pain.

Nightmare Moon rattled her chains one last time, and laughed past the strap that bound her muzzle. A curtain of mist engulfed her, then me, before everything dissolved.

The first thing I noticed, before even opening my eyes, was the pain in my wing. I'd forfeited my bed to Mama despite all her pleading otherwise, content with sleeping on the carpet for a few days. And, as I came to notice, I'd been using my injured wing as extra padding between me and the floor, sleeping on my right side.

By some miracle or other, I did actually have two blankets at home so that both Mama and I could have one. Looking up, I noted she was still fast asleep.

I arched my chest up to unfurl and stretch my hurting wing under the blanket. Its hollow bones and squashed ligaments popped and cracked painfully, but that wasn't going to make me get up.

I pulled the blanket tighter around me. Oh, the joys of the cold morning air atop the tallest mountain in the land! Sleeping on the floor only added to the experience.

My wing hurt. I flapped it a bit, I threw it one way and another, I folded it and unfurled it again, but I couldn't find a position where I felt comfortable. Every tiny inch of it burned; every time I moved it, I felt the prick of needles. The burn always looked bad, but it hadn't been this consistently painful before. With a sigh, I conceded that I might have to get up and actually take a look.

I threw the blanket off and tip-hoofed to the window, careful not to wake Mama. I pulled the curtains apart just a bit, deliberately avoiding shining light on her eyes.

I raised my wing before me.

And I froze.

I wiggled it a little bit, and I folded it back before spreading it again.

This has to be a nightmare.

It was not my wing, and yet it was: it obeyed my every command. It was featherless and bare, and under the thin layer of veiny skin my bones were plain to see. Spines adorned the joints, and the wing ended in a bony spike at the tip. It resembled a dragon's talons more than any pegasus wing I recognised. The wing of a bat... that of a Night Guard.

I turned to look at my left wing in utter disbelief. That one was fine. I could feel shock overtake me: how it rooted my hooves and gripped my chest so that I could not scream.

With a trembling hoof, I poked the few remaining feathers on my bat wing. They'd gone grey and shrivelled; at the tiniest touch, they came off without sound or pain, crumbling like autumn leaves in my shaking grasp. I'm not dreaming.

As the crumbled flakes of feathers fell from my hoof, I felt the tension rise in me. My heart beat faster and faster; I started hearing my own blood rush in my ears. I breathed in with a deep, sharp gasp, my face contorting with horror. I could not tear my gaze away from my wing, its spiky bones and the veiny film of repuslive grey skin that stretched between them.

I erupted in a scream and fell to the floor, trying to crawl away from the thing that sprouted from my back. I crawled back to where I'd slept – and felt something strange brush my back. Under my blanket I found a pile of feathers and peeled skin, caked in dried blood and clumped together by a night's sleep.

“Loony?” came the panicked voice of Mama.

I turned around to hide my hideous wing behind my back. I flicked the blanket over the pile of lost skin and feathers and put on an innocent smile. “It's nothing! I saw a spider, a spider it was, Mama.” A desperate attempt at pretence; I knew she'd seen.

She hopped out of her bed and pulled the blanket off the floor. With a dawning horror in her eyes, she grabbed me and turned me around. I tried to resist at first, but Mama overpowered me. Or rather, I realised there was no hiding it now and gave in. As she looked at my wing, her jaw dropped and her eyes widened in panic.

Breathing heavily, she took a step back, unable to turn away.

“No,” she mumbled, shaking her head spastically. “No, no, no...”

“Mama...” I tried to put my hoof on her shoulder, but she backed away into the wall like a scared, stray dog. “Mama, it's okay.”

She rushed out of the room, slamming against the wall as she turned for the exit. She ripped the door open and ran outside; I had to stop at the doorstep. With all the ponies outside for the morning rush, I didn't want anypony to see my wing.

“Mama, I know!” I yelled. “I know what happened!”

Mama froze, halfway down the mountainside by now. Slowly, she looked up at me. I raised a hoof, beckoning her back.

“I know,” I said, “and it's alright. Come back, Mama. Please, please come back.”

She made a step upwards, but stopped right away. Turning back, she cast a glance down the mountain.

“Mama...”

I could see her mutter to herself and rapidly shake her head. Her entire body convulsed with heavy breaths; I was afraid she might pass out right there.

“Don't run away again,” I said. Mama froze up, then slowly turned to me. I felt my lips waver as I spoke. “Don't leave me, Mama.”

Finally, she took another step up – and then continued at a slow, cautious pace, and began avoiding my gaze. The closer she came, the more she turned her head away. She walked inside without looking me in the eye.

I stuck my head out and looked around before closing the door. I didn't see any curious eyes looking at us, so that was lucky.

“I know about the Longest Night,” I said, turning the key in the lock. “I know... what I am.”

Mama sniffed, licking her running nose. Her jaw hung agape with shallow, choking gasps. “How?” she mouthed, standing stiff and staring at the wall.

I put a hoof over her shoulder and guided her back to the bed to sit her down. “Mama, it doesn't matter.”

She sat on the bed, head hung, making quiet sobs and sniffles and clopping her hooves together nervously. I settled on the floor before her, taking her hooves into mine. Her gaze wandered to my wing, only for her to jerk her head the other way.

I nuzzled her chest.

“What happened to you?” she asked.

“I don't know why my wing... did this.” I took her hooves and placed them on my chest. “But Mama, we're going to find out. I'm sure it can be fixed.” She tried to pull away, still avoiding my eyes, but I didn't let go. “And Papa will always be my Papa.”

She turned to me. Her lips trembled and she took a breath; she ended up bursting with tears and pulling me close, putting her chin on my shoulder to cry into my mane. “I'm so sorry!”

Her words were interspersed with heavy gasps for air, and her voice shook, trailing off into indistinct sobs at the end of every sentence.

“I couldn't live, Loony. I couldn't, I couldn't...” Her embrace tightened. She began rocking me back and forth. “I went mad, Loony. I fell apart. By Celestia, I'm so sorry.”

Those were her last words for a good while; I let her cry herself out. Her hold on me did not loosen for a second. As her neck brushed against mine, I felt her gulp.

“I love you so much, Loony.”

“I love you too, Mama.”

Swift Sweep

I heard the door budge. Somepony knocked. They knocked and knocked again. I didn't get up to see who it was, leaning instead into the mirror. Page had just got up, and her wing... I could not make it out. It looked strange. Almost like...

There came some frustrated grumbles and metallic clanging as they put a key into the lock.

“I know I'm late,” said Lullaby, kicking the door in. “But don't you think you could get off your fat rump just once? I just spent my entire night talking with River, you should know.” A soft smack; she threw her bag into the corner, like she always did. “Celestia's up in his ass about the Star Swirl Wing. He came to me asking about our surveillance of the 'little filly', desperate for info. But of course I could not tell him a thing. I hate you, Swift, I hate you so much.”

Her hooves clopped as she paced up to me. “They brought in another suspicious kid last night. You know what he told 'em? That the time was nigh. I read this in the interrogation log and I'm going to quote it for you, you thick slop-for-brains. 'On the longest day of the twentieth year, the Progeny will pave the way for the Mother's return'.”

She put her hooves on my shoulder and shook me. “Are you listening to me? The longest day of the year, the Summer Sun Celebration, that's tomorrow, and we've got their Progeny right here. What are you even looking at, haven't you been going out with her e... en-nough...”

Her words trailed off. Finally, she'd looked at the mirror.

Page screamed, falling to her haunches, kicking and flailing her hooves at her own, transformed wing. Veiled Quill quickly woke up as well.

“What in the...” Lullaby turned to me, then the mirror, and back to me. “What?”

“I don't know,” I replied, too enraptured by the scene to look at Lullaby. “I genuinely have no idea. She threw off her covers, and there it was.”

“We need to—”

Veiled Quill took off running, and Page followed.

“Damn it!” Lullaby rushed to the window.

I hopped to my hooves. “Are they—”

“Yes! No, actually, no.” She pressed her forehead against the glass. “No, she's coming back. Alright.” She looked back at me. “Okay, just so we're both on the same page, Page here has a Night Guard's wing.”

“Looks like it.”

“And we don't know why.”

“Not a clue.”

She stormed up to me, grabbing the skin of my neck. “What aren't you telling me? I've played along, I've protected you, but you—”

“I really don't know!” I tore her hooves off and shoved her away. “I don't know.” I turned the other way and rubbed my forehead. “I can only assume they did something to her. What was it they stole, again? Luna's soul fragment? Who knows what they used that for.”

“Th-they did something? She, Swift. She.”

“She would never do something like this to herself.”

“You haven't known her for a week.”

“I've known her ever since we set up this cursed mirror.”

Lullaby chewed her lip, breathing sharply out her nose. She forcibly pressed her forehead against mine. “She is a member of the Children of the Night.”

I pressed right back. “No, she isn't.”

She held her ground for a moment. Then, scoffing, she whipped around and flicked her tail under my nose. “So you're going to do this, huh? I can't believe you, Swift.”

“I can't give up an innocent, ignorant filly to the EBSS.” Good thing she wasn't turned my way. I couldn't have said that to her eye.

She whipped around again – slapping the back of a hoof across my face. “You've done it before.” She did not raise her voice at all, but her tone made me want to sink into the ground in shame. “I'm going back to HQ,” she continued, “and I'll tell River everything. Including how you withheld information because of your own petty conscience.”

I licked my lower lip. I tasted blood. “And you helped me.”

She ground her teeth under a twitching eye. “Only because—”

“Do you think Celestia is going to care?”

She took a deep breath, closing her eyes. When she exhaled, she looked calm again. “Okay, small boy. I'm listening to your plan.”

“I... I don't have a plan.”

“You got me into this.”

“Look, I told you, I don't know. I need time.”

“I don't think you were listening.” She knocked a hoof on my head. “Even if I wanted to give you time, even if your precious daughter is pure and clean, we simply don't. Have. Time. The Children will want her tomorrow. Nichts could barge in their door this very instant and take her away. You think they'd be able to stop Nichts? We couldn't stop her.”

“So what's your plan?” I asked.

“My plan...” She danced her gaze across the other wall, nodding and chewing her lip. “My plan is for you to think of something, and fast. In the meantime, I'll schedule a hanging for you. It'll have to be sometime when I'm working so I have an excuse to not be there.”

“So you just want to save your own skin, huh? You don't care about me, or Page, you just—”

She swung her hoof at me again, but this time I caught her hoof. Our legs stayed up there, hers pushing, mine keeping it at bay. “I've had your back, Swift,” she admonished. “I've had it for decades.”

She did indeed. I could barely stand to look at her – not out of hate but because she was right.

I lowered my hoof and closed my eyes, bracing for a rightfully deserved slap. It never came.

“There has to be another way,” I said.

“I'm all ears, Swift.”

I sat down onto the bare floor. The world began spinning, my stomach churned, and my head was splitting. In my eyes, I felt the tears swell, and I did my best to rub them away. If only Page hadn't grown that wing. I could've tipped her off, helped her flee. But she could not hide for long with this. If only I'd have turned her in before I got to know her. If only I had never spoken to her.

My hind legs went limp. I fell to my haunches and tore at my mane.

If only I hadn't forced myself on Veiled Quill. I should never have joined the Night Guard. If only I hadn't been a useless blight on Equestria. If only I'd have become a painter like I'd dreamt.

If only I'd never been born.

“Get up,” Lullaby said, anger barely contained in her voice. “Get. Up.”

So I did.

“You know my plan?” I asked. Lullaby cocked her head and raised a brow. “My plan is I'll go down to the Pristine Pillars and get very, very drunk. I haven't done that in twenty years.”

With that, I walked for the door.

“Don't you dare,” Lullaby said, voice shaking. “You open that door, I swear...”

“Swear what? You'll tell River? Celestia?” Putting my hoof on the handle, I chuckled, out of desperation and because I had nothing else left to do. There comes a point where one can only laugh. “Hey, maybe we'll get to be cell mates in the crystal mines.”

As I closed the door behind me, I heard Lullaby bellow her anger and a desk crack under the impact of a hoof.

I bet Veiled Quill and Page heard, too.

The thing about getting drunk is that if you don't do it for twenty years, you tend to severely overestimate just how much you can take.

I asked for the strongest thing they had, and promptly downed a glass on the spot. I asked for another, but by the time the barkeep brought it out, I had decided to just share the table with it and peacefully coexist. I spent an hour staring at that weird, greenish liquid he said to be from the borderlands between Equestria and the Donkey Principality. All I knew was that it had the kick of a mule.

After about half an hour – or maybe two, memory's hazy – of staring at the thing, I mustered the courage to take another sip. If this is my last drink on Celestia's money, I'm damn well going to get its worth.

Just as I touched the glass to my lips, I heard the door swing open behind me. Please tell me that's not Page. She wouldn't be insane enough to just come here looking like that.

“Huh, nice place,” said Veiled Quill.

“What can I get ya'?” asked the barkeep. And I sunk a little deeper into my seat, pulling my neck in.

“I don't know, what do you... oh, is that you, Swift?”

For the Moon's sake.

She threw herself into the seat across the table. “I just got thrown out of some uppity bar the other way.” She burped, flicking a stray lock of mane away that had escaped her bun. “Said I was a nuisance. They had some good stuff, too, so that's a shame. How are you? What's that in your hooves?” She leaned across the table, practically climbing on it, to take a smell. “Ugh, it's revolting.”

“Dear lady,” the barkeep called out. “You gonna order?”

She drooped back into her chair, waving a slack hoof in my general direction. “Oh, I'll have what he's having.”

The barkeep muttered something under his breath about how he bets she can take it.

The best thing about Veiled Quill's arrival was that it gave me the mental strength to down the entire glass in one go.

“So what's got you so down?” she asked.

I slammed the glass down. “Stuff.”

“Yeah, I've got a lot of stuff on my mind too.”

“I can tell.”

Her bun was coming undone, stray mane hairs covering the redness of her cheeks and sticking to the corners of her lips. A soaked pattern on her coat down her chest and belly spoke of all the drinks she'd spilled that day. So much for that picture of beauty and strength. I couldn't help but laugh. “Look at us, two old fools drowning in alcohol.”

“Well, you don't seem to be drowning yet,” she chortled. “Trust me, I know what that's like.”

The barkeep brought out a glass for her with the same green atrocity inside. “Here you go.”

“Thank you, lovely.” She grinned. I caught the stench of her mouth all the way from here. She smelled the drink and licked her lips. “Hey, what's with that look?”

“What look?”

“That's the 'I have nowhere to go' look. I know that one.”

“You've been there,” I said. My tongue worked faster than my brain. Perhaps I should've phrased that as a question.

“Oh, I have...” She chuckled, drinking the entire glass in one go. Shivers rocked her body and she nearly dropped the glass. “Brr! Oh, have I been there. You know what I like about hitting rock bottom, looking back?”

“The taste of cheap drinks?”

“That too, but that's not what I meant. The thing about rock bottom is you have nowhere to go but up.”

“Inspiring.” I raised my glass and tilted it above my mouth to gather a few missed drops.

“Well if you won't start, then I will.” She put her hoof up, waving to the barkeep. “Hey, another one of these!” She glanced at me, then back to him. “Actually, make it two.”

I rolled my eyes. “Thanks.”

“So you know, before Page was born...” She belched. “You know, I actually considered, you know... getting rid of her. You know.”

“I believe I do.”

“Yeah. 'Cause you know, kids. You're always afraid they turn out to be little monsters.” Her tipsy smile dissolved, and soon enough her tears were rolling. “I almost did it,” she sobbed. “I was gonna use a... a watchamacallit, a poking stick, like you know, for a fireplace. I had it in my hooves.” She stopped for a moment to wipe her eyes. “But I couldn't. I couldn't do it.” She took a deep breath, flicking her mane back. “Say, you got any loinspawn?”

The barkeep came over with our pair of drinks. I took one, and seeing Quill with her face buried in her hooves, I took hers too and placed it out of her reach.

“I don't.”

She lifted her head up. A smile overcame her lips again, though the tears hadn't stopped. “You don't know what you're missing.”

“I've got enough problems without them.”

“Longest Night?” she asked.

“Longest Night,” I replied.

“Who died?”

“My father. And my hopes for a future.”

“Yet you're still kicking around all these years later.” She straightened herself. “I think you're doing pretty well.”

I took a sip from my drink, and pushed Quill's over to her. “Suppose you knew Page was going to die tomorrow.”

She'd lifted her glass, but put it back down when I said Page's name.

“And you could stop it,” I went on, “but you'd have to go in her place.”

“Then I would in a heartbeat.”

I scoffed. “You see? That. That's why I don't have kids.” I downed the drink. “I'm a bitter, selfish monster.”

She splashed her drink all over me – I couldn't even respond with anything but a look.

“Oh, quit it!” she said. “You're not a monster.”

I didn't even care for getting soaked like that – I only minded the drink burning my eyes. I blinked away as much as I could, rubbing out the rest. “You have no idea who I am.”

“Actually, I do have an idea.”

That hit me harder than the drink. No, you can't know... no, she doesn't know. I dismissed the thought quickly.

“You do realise I'm a mare, right?” she asked.

I looked her over. “I've been getting that feeling.”

“You know what happened to the mares during the Longest Night.”

“I might have read about it.”

She leaned forward. The haze of alcohol seemed to evaporate from her sight, and in her gaze settled a clarity possessed only by the most illuminated drunkards and the wisest of philosophers. I found myself pinned into my seat by her glare.

“I've seen the eyes of a monster, Swift. I've felt its hot breath on my neck. I've had its fangs rake my skin. I've listened to its debased grunts, and I've heard its perverted laughter as it violated my being.” She crossed her hooves and squinted her eyes, looking deep into mine. “I know monsters. I look at you, and you... you are not one.”

I'm not a monster.

It took me a moment to process.

Veiled Quill told me I was not a monster.

My forehead shivered with sweat, and my throat ran dry. My stomach turned.

I stumbled out of my chair, nearly falling over as I rushed for the door. I rammed it open and turned into the alley beside the Pristine Pillars. And out they came, all the drinks I'd had, all over the wall and my hooves.

I felt a hoof pat my shoulder.

“Wow,” said Quill. “You really can't hold your liquor, can you?”

I dignified her words with another go over the wall. This time it had little bits in it.

No matter how long I ran from it, I could not escape the fact. I was a monster. And hunched in that alley between the cheap tavern and a bordello, you know what I realised? It was something I'd actually known for a long, long time, only I never thought to turn it back on myself.

Monsters, no matter the shape, needed to be put down.

New Page

Mama stumbled through the door late into the afternoon, smelling as bad as she looked. I knew I shouldn't have let her out, but what was I supposed to do – keep her by force? I couldn't possibly go after her looking like this. She muttered something about meeting Swift and what a weird pony he was, vowing three times in the meantime to never drink again.

I helped her into bed, then into sleep; I used a few stray papers to gently fan her face and nodded along to her drunken, incoherent rambling. The dreams took her soon enough; I was again left to my own devices. Checking that I'd locked the door, I returned to the bathroom.

I'd been trying to hide my wing by patching it up with bandages and hoisting it in a makeshift sling as though it were broken. However, I did not have anywhere near the amount of gauze to cover the whole thing, and the spikes that marked every joint would stubbornly pierce through them at the slightest movement.

On a desperate whim, I managed to find an old hammer I'd kept stashed somewhere; one hard hit in the right place, I figured, and the largest spike would snap right off. I put the wing onto the edge of the washtub, and with flicked the hammer in position between my jaws. I cracked my neck, readying to strike.

What followed was a scream, a chipped tooth, a cracked spike that refused to fall off, a broken washtub, a lot of blood, and even more regret. I ended up wasting even more bandages on cleaning myself up.

“Oh, it's nothing, Mrs Pinegreens,” I muttered to myself as I scrubbed my wing. “I just tripped and fell down the cliff, that's all. No, no, Miss Mercy, it's really fine. Turns out I'm one-sixteenth dragon on Papa's side, who would'a thunk? Gah!”

Why? I kept asking myself. Was it the Soul Gem? Did Nie do something to me while I was out?

It'll be alright. I just needed time to think. I knew I could come up with something. I always did. I've survived too much to be stopped now. The fates loved me, I knew it. It's all gonna be fine.

I heard voices outside the door.

Before I could put my bloody towel down, the doorframe cracked inwards and the door came flying off its hinges.

From the bathroom, I had a clear view of the entrance – and the heavily armoured ponies rushing in. I barely had time to react. There were three of them, all huge, and their every galloping step tore into the floor, cracking wood and grinding the stone underneath. I could barely see their eyes under their heavy helmets.

I had nowhere to go. A stallion grabbed me by the mane and threw me out of the bathroom, right into the hooves of another. My cry for Mama was cut short by a jagged horseshoe slamming into the pit of my stomach, knocking the air out of me.

“What are you doing?” Mama shrieked, jumping one of them – only to be sent to the floor with one shove.

While that one held Mama at bay, the other two pushed me to the floor and bound my legs together.

Mama beat the pony blocking her with all her might, but he did not so much as flinch. “Not again, not again!” she wailed. When Mama proved persistent, the stallion twisted her hooves and threw her to the floor.

“For her crimes against Equestria,” said the stallion as he stepped off her, “the Equestrian Bureau for State Security is placing your daughter under arrest.”

“What are you talking about?” Mama asked, getting up and skipping back a safe distance.

The stallion reached to his belt and took off a set of cuffs, making a calm step towards her. “For your own protection, you are also coming with us.” He held the cuffs out between them. “You have no reason to make this difficult.”

As one stallion stood me up, the other got my towel from the bathroom and wrapped it around my bat wing. They shoved me towards the door, giving me one second to see my mother being cuffed.

“Mama, I'm sorry!”

I'd been afraid that one day the EBSS would knock on my door. But as I realised, that was just crazy. The EBSS doesn't knock.