//------------------------------// // Vivisect // Story: Monsters // by JawJoe //------------------------------// 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.