Near the center of Ponyville, there was a library in a tree. It had changed a bit in the past five years. A room or two added, a small garden, various childhood toys, and a tricycle strewn about in the grass. Once a public place of knowledge, it slowly evolved into a home for a happy family.

Inside, it was no longer just books that lined the walls, but photos as well. Photos that told a similar story as the plastic toys outside.

A photo of a black-coated foal in a high chair, what’s left of a cupcake in front of her. A single snuffed candle lopped to the side as the foal dug into the cupcake with unrestrained delight, face covered in vanilla frosting.

A picture of a young dragon in an ugly holiday sweater, ever so slightly larger and holding his sister whose own overly-complicated Hearth’s Warming Day outfit has left her with a look that is evidently five whines away from a full-on tantrum, while a decorated tree and a mountain of presents sits in the background.

A photo of a lavender alicorn, awkwardly positioning a pair of wings she still wasn’t used to as she scoops her daughter up in a huge feathery hug, nuzzling her close.

A somewhat larger alicorn filly, her saddlebags laden with school supplies, books, and one raggedly doll, nervous smile on her face as she turns towards a little red schoolhouse.

Five years. Five years of life. Five years of growth. Five years of feeling happy and safe and without a care in the world.

Five years. Five years of captivity, of hate and anger and feeling trapped and worse. Five years of watching a blob of wayward failed spellcraft live in the body that should have been Nightmare Moon’s. Five years of watching that THING drink in the adoration that should have been Nightmare Moon’s.

Five years of love from subjects that should have been Nightmare Moon’s.

No. No, it wasn’t adoration, it wasn’t the love that ponies should have for their rightful queen. It was the patronizing that parents gave to an infant. What did Nightmare Moon care for gold stars in kindergarten or a terrible macaroni picture stuck to a fridge?

The pony that had once been Spell Nexus wanted to scream in frustration. It wasn’t his frustration. Or his scream.

Celestia was an unworthy ruler, but even a pony as blinded by fanaticism would have to be an idiot to underestimate her. She had a thousand years of rule, a thousand years of experience at navigating noble houses and whispers and plots against her. Nexus had been her greatest student once, and it took everything he had to keep up with her games.

But Spell Nexus was something Celestia was not. He was ruthless. He took risks, sacrificing pawns as he pleased while Celestia hesitated to bring even one of her little ponies to harm. Bit by bit, he should have been gaining ground. Bit by bit, he should have been winning.

But Celestia was not the problem. No, the far greater problem was Luna. Whinging, sniveling, undeserving little sister Luna had unexpectedly been the star player against the Children of the Nightmare. And she had done it by not playing the game at all.

For a mare who, by all reports, was inclined to quiet and bookish activities, Luna was not one to play chess or, in fact, entertain any sort of courtly intrigue at all. Where Celestia had positioned and schemed, Luna confronted and annihilated the board entirely.

Take, for example, the original resurrection spell. Before Celestia had given Luna the case, she had called forth her greatest archivists (Spell Nexus included) to figure out its effects. It was a process that could take months or years even; such was the extent and complexity of the ritual. Such could have been the extent of Spell Nexus’ delays.

But Luna? Luna had simply requested a list of the materials used in the spell, and then banned the rarest ones outright while destroying the existing stockpiles under the guise of “eliminating contraband”. A few complaints from several unicorn researchers had been met with Luna citing an ancient royal rule she called “Potes meos suaviari clunes”, followed by increased scrutiny on what kind of magical research would require such ingredients in the first place.

The pony that had once been Spell Nexus had lost a few of its most trusted lieutenants that way.

Unfortunately for him, while running a cult was within his ability, a respected headmaster with close ties to the royal family had very few experiences or contacts in whatever passed for Equestria’s criminal underworld. Smuggling the ingredients was out of the question, or at least out of his range of influence. The best offer he managed to find was a cheap deal on some high-quality sugar and a diamond dog who now insisted that he owed him four hundred tons of salted butter.

And now the rest of his sworn brethren of the night were getting desperate, taking risks they had explicitly been forbidden from taking. An incident not but a few weeks prior in Ponyville had left Luna one step closer to getting her hooves around them, and then it’d all be over.

But he knew he had to remain calm. There were always going to be setbacks. At the beginning the Children of the Nightmare’s goal had been simple: Find a way to take Nyx from Twilight Sparkle and recreate the original spell. Doing so would finish Nightmare Moon’s resurrection. Luna’s machinations had made the latter goal impossible, but there was more than one way to skin a filly. So to speak.

Nexus crept up the stairs of one of the palace’s towers to its topmost rooms. It wasn’t one often used; the royal castle was so old and ancient that towers and turrets and whole halls would simply be constructed and ignored as time passed.

Once upon a time, this place had been a ballroom of some kind, its farthest side open to the night air. If any guard bothered to even check up on it, all they’d find is a lot of dusty old chairs and a large mirror sitting at the center. Spell Nexus approached the mirror, studying himself.

Of course, it wasn’t Spell Nexus in the mirror. Not anymore.

Five years was a lot of time to learn, to change. To grow. Where the corruption in his mind was once a tumor, now it was a parasite. Where once he was an enthralled supporter, now he was just a supportive thrall.

Nightmare Moon wasn’t sure if there was anything left of the old stallion. But as he became more and more of a thoughtless puppet, it became harder and harder to take advantage of his knowledge.

Moreover, Nightmare Moon was not stupid. His advice had been invaluable. His freedom had been invaluable. Every step Nightmare Moon took, every bit of his mind she controlled, she lost a perspective she knew she needed. She was making mistakes, and bit by bit the royal sisters were gaining ground.

She needed her body. She needed that damned sniveling bedwetting little homunculus reabsorbed. She could leave Spell Nexus behind then, give him back enough of his freedom to put the rest of her plan in action. That would work, right?

Why did she care what happened to him? He was just a body to use. And she needed a body, any body. Without a corporeal form to inhabit, she risked losing herself. A body was a safe place to hide, but she needed advice more than she needed safety right now.

So she let him go, ever so slightly. In the gaze of the mirror, she could remain focused, visible, but not solid. Not entirely.

“Time runs out, Spell Nexus,” her reflection paced about the stallion, standing proud. “Luna and Celestia face us on too many fronts and, frankly, your excuses and delays to that white tramp are starting to sound more and more desperate. Even a fool as trusting as her is going to start suspecting something.”

She frowned, regarding him, appearing, she hoped, as a disappointed queen.

“On your advice, I placed myself where you pleased. On your advice, I have blessed so many. By my reckoning, I should be ruling Equestria, if not openly then at least by proxy.”

“So why am I stuck talking through a mirror while that BRAT WALKS AROUND IN! MY! BODY?”

It took a long time for Nexus to speak as if he had forgotten how. Had he forgotten? She didn’t want him broken, not like that. Again, why did she care?

“We are… spread too thin. Too many pieces to control, too many moving parts. We have to thrive off secrecy, and now? We’ve been overplaying our cards. It was a necessary sacrifice, but—”

“I am sick of the game metaphors, Spell Nexus. I am not here to establish a decadent court of intrigue like some beheaded Prance noblepony, I am here to rule Equestria as it should be. No more cards, no more pawns. No more dumb metaphors! What is going on?”

“Your majesty, we should be ready. The good news is that the mirror is complete, the focus and latticework are perfect. By all accounts, this is a contingency, but a contingency that should work.”

“Go on then, tell me the bad news.”

Nexus shifted, uncomfortably.

“I’m not going to smite you Nexus.”

He didn’t speak.

“I order you to be honest with me!”

“It is the matter of Nyx, Your Majesty,” he cringed at her reaction to the filly’s name. “We can bless as many as we dare, perfect what spells we have, but without her, it means nothing.”

Nightmare Moon sighed. That was always the trick, wasn’t it? Retrieve the filly, complete the spell. Five years had changed nothing, five years had been useless.

Twilight was the key to all this, she knew that. If she could have wrapped her claws around that tart cosplaying as a mother, taking Nyx would have been simple. But she had moved too slowly, and Twilight was an alicorn herself now. Beyond her power, beyond her reach.

Nightmare Moon had grown in those five years, as Nyx had. She could bless an entire army now, if need be, and if she got close enough she could puppeteer even the strongest-willed pony. But an alicorn? A princess? It was beyond her.

…

Wasn’t it?

She had never tried, if she was being honest. But… Spell Nexus had been a powerful unicorn. Headmaster of the academy, the once-protege of Celestia herself. But she had overpowered him all the same, it had simply been a matter of pouring more of herself into him, of forcing herself into his mind as hard as she could.

…Was an alicorn not the same way?

Nightmare Moon smiled, the final pieces of her master plan falling into place in her mind. She took control once more of Spell Nexus, letting his eyes gaze out over the fields of the royal palace and Canterlot below. Evening had spread over the grounds, painting the palace with that hated golden light. She let him smile her smile.

She knew what she had to do.

Equestria had seen its last sunset.

Nyx was smart. At least, grownups said she was smart.

But Pumpkin Cake said that when grownups told you something like that it was because they wanted you to do something, not because you were that thing. They’d say you were “quiet” as a compliment because they wanted you to be quiet, or to be still or something else.

That’s what Pumpkin said.

But she didn’t think grownups wanted her to be smart. Grownups got upset when she noticed things, but it wasn’t her fault. Nyx always noticed things. She would consider herself a noticer, in fact. It hadn’t always been that way, but Nyx had fallen into the role by serendipity.

Nyx just wanted to know everything there was to know about everything. Apparently, being smart is how you became a princess, that’s what she had thought. After all, Momma was smart. Momma was a princess, and Momma knew everything: every question that came to Nyx’s head, she’d answer with the smile and grace of a princess.

So at first, she thought you had to know everything to become a princess, which seemed daunting. She didn’t want to be a princess. She had thought that perhaps if one was a princess, then they’d know everything, which seemed upsetting.

But one day, when she had asked Momma where babies came from, she had been met with a nervous laugh and a promise to answer that question when she was older. When Nyx was met with an answer like that, which was often, she’d do what she did best: go ask someone else.

Aunt Tia had nearly spat out her drink when Nyx asked her the same question. She had smiled serenely and told Nyx that babies were shaped out of clouds when two ponies loved each other very much.

But Nyx knew that only pegasus ponies could touch clouds, and non-pegasi had babies. So Auntie Tia was wrong.

Aunt Luna had simply said that babies came from magic eggs of darkness that hatched in the Everfree Forest during thunderstorms. So she clearly also did not know what she was talking about.

Being a princess, conclusively, did not mean that one knew everything. And one probably didn’t have to be a princess to know everything. That was good. But it left Nyx back at the position of still not knowing everything, and at the worse problem of having ponies often unwilling to answer her questions.

It was only when she realized that if she sat quietly and noticed what was happening around her, she’d know more. Momma had been so happy when she told her that. She said it was called “learning”. Nyx just thought it was noticing.

So here she was, sitting in an afterschool sandbox over another failed attempt at the world’s greatest sandcastle, quietly noticing the things around her. Or more specifically, the ponies around her. The ones that were very not her big brother watching over her right now.

“Ponyville has a lot of bat ponies living here,” she said finally.

The nearby Cakes paused their work on what was a valiant attempt at a sandy throne room to consider their best friend’s deep words. Again by serendipity, Nyx had fallen into the role of mastermind for their little party. She was the smartest after all; she could spell her name and was able to count past 200, which nobody else in her class could do. The best schemes came from Nyx’s mind, so when she said something that wasn’t a string of questions, her friends listened.

One could truly ponder the vast mysteries of the playground via one of Nyx’s rare insights. In this case, the twins turned to look over at what Nyx had Noticed.

“That’s just mister and missus Nightshade,” downplayed Pound Cake.

“They’re watching us,” Nyx tried to look discreetly at the Thestral couple sitting on the bench nearby. They tried to look discreetly back. It was a game with no winners.

“Their son is in our class. He’s nice,” justified Pumpkin finally.

“You just think his wings look cool,” said Pound.

“Do not!” fired back Pumpkin.

Nyx shook her head. “Foxglove’s not here today, he went home. It’s just them.”

“So they’re watching us. Big deal. Your mom is a princess. Don’t princesses have, uh…” her friend struggled for the word.

“Bodyguards?” Nyx suggested.

“Yeah. Bodily guards.”

“Missus Nightshade’s nice,” Pound added. “She lets me have flowers at her stand sometimes.”

“You just think her wings look cool.”

“Do not!”

And so the twins argued in their usual chaotic way. Nyx knew they hung out with Pinkie Pie a lot, and while Momma had happily explained the concept of osmosis to her, she didn’t quite think that it worked with personalities.

Still for once their words gave Nyx a chance to think deep thoughts of her own.

Princesses had guards, Nyx knew that of course, they were always around Auntie Tia and Auntie Luna looking mean and serious and wouldn’t ever let her look closer at their helmets. But Momma didn’t have guards. Rainbow Dash said that Momma didn’t need guards, and Nyx had seen more than one would-be villain atomized into ozone-smelling nothingness that made her glad that Momma only ever hurt bad ponies.

But Auntie Luna said that her guards were bat ponies. And Nyx had noticed that Ponyville hadn’t always had bat ponies. Grownups would sometimes talk about that, and then get embarrassed when she asked them why.

Then there was that incident a few weeks ago. Nyx had noticed a strange pony that had been following her and Momma and Spike in the market and had pointed it out. In seconds, a huge crowd of ponies had swarmed the stallion, pinning him under a veritable ponypile of bodies. A LOT of the ponies in that pile had been bat ponies, who had seemed to have come out of nowhere.

It was probably something she could ask Momma about. She had wanted to get to the leather bottom of this bat mystery herself, but Nyx was always happy to ask questions and was happy to have a mother who loved to answer them.

Having lost track of time while exploring her own inner monologue, she was finally roused from her internal resolve to ask Twilight by the distant ringing of the clocktower.

Sighing and waving to her friends as Mr. and Mrs. Cake picked them up, she trotted over to Spike with her trowel and bucket in her mouth, eagerly awaiting the trip home where she could spend an evening asking Momma more questions.

“You look excited, Nyx,” he said, looking up from his comic.

“Yep!”

“Let me guess, more questions for Twilight?”

“A whole bunch!” She smiled happily.

He sighed. “Wonderful. So no trying to catch fireflies tonight? Twilight’d skin me alive if I brought you home after dark again.”

“Fireflies can wait, questions are more important.”

“You promise?”

“Uh-huh! They’re good questions.”

She nodded eagerly, scooping her sandy implements once more, thoughts of watching threstrals largely refocused into the far more exciting thoughts about answers about watching threstrals. A perfect capstone to a great day.

Spike supposed that other teenagers would be bristling at having to watch over their kid sister instead of going to wild parties or huffing cans of whipped cream or whatever weird things that Rainbow Dash had told him teenagers do.

He certainly felt like a teenager at times. Five years had been plenty of time for him to grow tall enough to where ponies at least had stopped calling him a “baby” dragon. Though that may have also been because he spent so much time babysitting in the first place. Even if he wasn’t taking his Pinkie Promise seriously (which he was, he’d be dead before he broke this Pinkie Promise), his friends were happy to put him into the role of the older brother. It felt nice to be the hero on the regular. If only some ponies wouldn’t stop trying to butt in on his turf.

“Aren’t you hanging out a bit too close right now?” Spike eyed the happily trotting filly in front of him, pulling back a bit to get close to the two incognito guards following them. “I thought the whole point was to keep some distance between the Lunar Guard and Nyx.”

“We’re just a family out for a nice evening stroll at the park,” Corporal Hemlock replied, expressionless.

“With no foal?”

The guards said nothing and just continued to watch Nyx.

“You guys talk a lot less when you’re not working the flower stand, huh?”

“Ever hear the term ‘on-duty,’ kid?”

“Right, fine,” but not content to leave the subject alone, Spike gave them what he hoped was a guilty look. “Sure would be a shame to leave everypony trying to protect her out of the loop though.”

He was a bit too old now to be considered precocious, and he doubted he had enough natural cuteness left to really work that angle, but one didn’t grow up around Twilight Sparkle without gaining a ruthless sense of how to manipulate royal guards, particularly if it involved breaking into forbidden libraries. Hemlock looked down at him, considering his words, and looked over to his wife. She paused, then nodded, lowering her voice to make sure they weren’t overheard.

“They’re letting Trenchcoat go, no charges. Her Highness has pardoned him.”

“WHAT!” He yelled, then noticed Nyx looking back at them before lowering his voice again. “Why? He tried to foalnap Nyx in broad daylight, there must have been over a hundred witnesses!”

“You read too many detective comics, kid.”

“And too many essays about Equestria’s legal system.” Countered Spike. “What’s Luna playing at?”

Both of the thestrals shifted nervously. “We… we don’t want you to worry about something like this, you don’t need to be afraid.”

“I worry, Twilight worries, you worry. We get paranoid—” Spike pointed down the road at his baby sister. “So that she doesn’t. Spill the beans, or I’ll get Twilight to do it anyway.”

Hemlock sighed. “The suspect… wasn’t in full control of his mental faculties at the time.”

“So he’s nuts.”

“He was brainwashed.” Hemlock said. “Magically so. Her Highness purged the spell in question, but the last thing Trenchcoat claims to remember is meeting an unfamiliar pony and then he was…” He struggled to find the words.

“Infected?” suggested Spike. Both the guards nodded.

“I believe Princess Twilight expressed concerns that the cult members we have caught don’t match any patterns or display behaviors that would suggest sympathy towards Nightmare Moon.”

“She kept complaining that it didn’t make sense, it was driving her up a wall… Guess it’s because it doesn’t make sense. But if it spreads like… like a zombie infection.”

“You read too many comics.”

“Fine, a vampire curse, then.”

“Also not real,” Nightshade eyed him disapprovingly.

“You know what I mean. If you’ve got a few real whackos going around brainwashing ponies in dark alleyways then that means that—”

He looked up at both of them, realization dawning. “Oh.”

“Hence the increased scrutiny,” concluded the guard.

“Gotcha.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

Heading back over to Nyx, he considered the words of the guards. Infections. Brainwashing. The cult could take ponies… Which meant that anyone could be a suspect now.

Celestia help them if poor Twilight knew about this already. He knew she put on a brave face, but there had been more than a few times when the thought of things lurking in the shadows ready to hurt her family had become overwhelming. Nopony else knew about those heartwrenching late-night breakdowns, and it had made him all the more determined to keep everyone he loved safe.

But if that meant he had to be watching and scrutinizing everypony he met, even his friends, he didn’t know if he could do it. Pinkie Promise or not.

But what if the cult got them? Or the guards? What if they got Spike?

He suddenly was roused from his thoughts by a nearby whimper. Nyx had shifted the bucket onto her back and was looking around nervously.

“You okay, squirt?” Spike asked.

“Can we… can we go faster, Spike? It’s gotten really dark…”

Dark. That… that didn’t seem right. Ponyville was a quiet little town, but it was a town that still had electricity. Or at least ponies that made sure there was oil to burn.

“Spike…” Nyx said, shying closer to him. “Are we lost?”

“Nyx, come on,” he gave her a confident smile, which faltered quickly. “I know these streets like the back of my claw, we’re right in the middle of… town.”

He finally realized what was wrong. They were in the middle of town. The Night Market should have been going on, Ponies bustling among the glow of streetlamps to parties or plays or late-night obligations. But now the stalls sat empty, the buildings around them had no light and no sound in them.

In what was the busiest part of Ponyville, shortly after sunset, there was not a pony to be seen, and not a lamp lit.

One didn’t grow up around Twilight Sparkle without gaining a ruthless sense of when the midden was about to hit the windmill, and without missing a beat he scooped up his little sister, who gave a yelp of confusion as she dropped her bucket. He sprinted over to their thestral guardians.

“You guys—”

“I know. Stay with Hemlock,” Nightshade nodded, wings spreading as she took to the skies. For a moment, she was nothing more than the shadow of a pegasus outlined by the full moon.

And then another shadow joined it. A far faster shape that collided with the thestral in midair. Nightshade fell.

“Nightshade!” Cried Spike, looking around, trying to see the pegasus that had hit her. It was dark, but he swore he recognized that silhouette.

“Where are the other guards? Hemlock, there should be more!”

“I know, stay behind me. If I give the signal, run. Get to the library and Princess Twilight,” eyes wide but expression calm, the remaining Lunar Guard flared his wings, stepping through the darkness of the street to try and find the assailant, hoping to put himself between them and the two youths.

Instead, a blast of magic flashed out of the darkness, hitting the guard square between the eyes with something. He crumpled to the ground, Spike crying and rushing over to him, Nyx huddled close to him, shivering in fear as they both inspected what Hemlock had been hit with.

It was a gorgeous and rather heavy gemstone.

Several clues lined up in his mind, clicking with an ominous echo. He recognized the pegasus in the sky. He recognized this gemstone or others like it.

And he’d recognize the color of that magical aura anywhere.

“No…” the dragon whispered.

Out of the shadows stepped four mares. Each of their eyes glittered turquoise, their pupils harlequin. A fifth and final one landed with a heavy thud in front of them, rainbow mane visible only by the moonlight.

“Dash? Fluttershy? Applejack? Pinkie? R-Rarity? Even you? You can’t be… they got you? They got you?” Spike stepped back in disbelief, moving to stand in front of Nyx. The unicorn mare smiled back at him, all teeth and not a single bit of her characteristic generosity within. It was the look a predator gave cornered prey.

“Spike, darling. You’re a smart young dragon. You know what this is allllll about, right? We don’t have to make this difficult, do we?” Rarity fluttered her eyelashes at him. “Why don’t you hand sweet little Nyx over to us, we’ll make sure she gets home… safely.”

“Nyx is fine with me. You… You stay back.” He swallowed, trying to dredge up some resolve from the swamp of terror and betrayal that was his soul.

“Come now, dear, don’t make us do anything rash.”

“I said stay BACK!” he yelled, barreling into the unicorn without hesitation. It might look like Rarity, but Rarity would never threaten his sister, implied or otherwise. He’d wrestle with his own inner turmoil later. Right now there were no guards, and he couldn’t rely on his friends. It was up to him to get Nyx home. Get to Twilight. Twilight could fix this.

“W-what’s happening? Spike, why does Rarity look like that? What happened to mister Hemlock?”

“It’s not her Nyx, you have to stay calm. Something’s gone wrong with everypony, I know. But it’s important that you stay calm.”

“She has my eyes!”

“It’s going to be okay, it’s going to be okay, just make sure you do exactly what I say.”

Sailing over the groaning cult-Rarity (Nightmare Rarity? Don’t think, figure it out later!) with a terrified Nyx in his arms, he blasted past the stunned mares, rounding a corner. He knew there was an alleyway here, dark or not. He’d plunge through, lose them in the maze of buildings, and try to make his way back to the library. Easy, right. He could do this.

Get through the alleyway, ignoring the clambering and crashing behind him, avoiding crates and trying to get as much distance as he could. Rainbow Dash would be a problem, but even she couldn’t see in the dark.

Finally clear of the alleyway, Spike turned a corner and—

And instead of an easy road to freedom, he found himself in front of a wall of ponies, staring back at him with a sea of glowing turquoise eyes. Every single face was terrifyingly familiar to him.

The Children of Nightmare hadn’t just infiltrated Ponyville.

They hadn’t just taken some of the citizens.

They had taken everyone.

Author's Note

Y'all ever heard of a Sanderson Snowball? We're in the midst of that snowball now, so buckle up.

Thanks to Toonwriter for proofreading this.