“Alright, ponies, listen up,” Swift Judgement declared, her voice carrying over the constant chatter of the Equicide Office. The agents and Manehattan police officers surrounding her all stopped and turned around to face the SAC, the chatter falling silent in an instant. The only sound was the thrumming of the heater and the rain that continued to patter against the windows, the lights of Manehattan starting to warm up and penetrate through the growing darkness of the approaching evening.
“Our friends here think that our merry band of cultists is planning a breakout at Clovenworth Island,” Judgement continued, holding up a folder. “I’ve got here a list of all the current staff and inmates at Clovenworth. I want you all to start running them down: them, their family, their friends, their bridge club members. If there are any connections to Saint Goldleaf’s Church, I want to know about it, and I want them in here.” She tossed the folder onto the table in the center of the office space. “Swampfire will divvy them out to you. Right, what else?”
“We should start checking the docks and wharves,” Strider put in. “They’ve obviously been planning this out and preparing for a long time, and they’ve probably got boats ready.”
“Good point,” Agent Judgement nodded. “I’ll call down to the harbor police and tell them to be on the lookout for anything suspicious.”
“Have copies of letters Scarlet received,” Phillip added, holding up another folder. “Should check them, and documents from the church.”
“Also a good point,” Judgement agreed. “Why don’t you, Strider, and Swampfire work on that?”
“Oh, goody,” Daring grumbled, returning Swampfire’s glare with one of her own.
“What about the cardinal from the church?” Strider asked. “We should be sweating them.”
“We are, but they’re not saying anything,” Swift Judgement replied. “Let them think about it for a while and we’ll come back if we find something.”
“Right, folks, let’s get to it,” Swampfire called, prompting the RBI Agents surrounding them to close in on the table, chattering amongst themselves. Swampfire began to pass out documents to the agents, who snatched them up and split off into small groups with officers to work.
Once Swampfire was done, he trotted over to the other three, his face twisting as though he were sucking on lemons, a single folder tucked beneath his foreleg. Without a word, he led them over to a side room and opened it up. Inside were boxes and boxes of evidence, folders of documents taken from the church.
“So,” Strider favored the ASAC with a wide smile. “I hope that you didn’t have any plans for the next few days.”
“If you think I’m happy about this, you’re wrong,” the earth pony grumbled. “Let’s just get this over with so we can get out of each other’s faces.” He paused a beat, then turned in Phil and Daring’s general direction. “Oh, right, a package arrived for you two earlier,” he said, refusing to look directly at them. “It’s in the other room.”
“Aces,” Phillip said, leading Daring to the small adjoining antechamber.
The small room had a desk, some chairs, a telephone, and a shelf with law books and thick binders of documents. Sitting on the desk was a package wrapped in brown paper.
Phillip read the address label on the package, hoofwritten in marker. “‘To: Phillip Finder and Daring Do, ℅ Manehattan RBI Office, 27 Federal Plaza, Manehattan. From: Starlight Glimmer, Royal Academy of Magic, 7 Starswirl Street, Canterlot.’”
“Starlight,” Daring said happily, taking the envelope attached to the package and slicing it open. She unfolded the letter within and frowned at the haphazard writing on it. “Wow, she clearly didn’t take any calligraphy classes in school…‘Dear Phil and Daring, I read that you were in Manehattan working on the heartless murders. I know why they’re carving out the hearts: it has to do with that spell Sombra made me work on. I’ve enclosed a few things that I think might help: call me at this phone number so I can explain more. Starlight.’”
While Daring had been reading the letter, Phillip unwrapped the package and opened it. Inside were three circular pendants of silver, runes carefully etched into the circumference. What looked like a small hourglass was set into each pendant, filled with multicolored sand, and silver chains that allowed them to be worn around the neck. Phillip picked one up and carefully turned it over in his hooves; he could feel a strange tingling warmth from the metal as if it had been sitting in the sun for several hours. It seemed to vibrate faintly
It took five rings for the phone to pick up. “Hello? Detective?” a familiar mare’s voice asked.
“Starlight? It’s Daring,” Daring said, holding the hoofset out so that the others could hear her. “How you doing?”
“Oh, hey, I’m great, great!” Starlight replied, the forced cheer in her voice clearly evident. “Just hanging around the Academy, having psychomancers scan my head every other day to make sure that there’s no trace of brainwashing left, but other than that, Tempest and I are both fine. Is Phil there?”
“Right here, Starlight,” Phillip replied.
“Oh, good, good, you’re both there,” Starlight said. “So, listen. Tempest and I have been reading about the murders in the papers, and I thought you could use the amulets that I sent you. They’ll help with the time stop spell,” Starlight explained.
“That’s what this is for?” Phillip said with a scowl.
“Yeah, the, uh, spell uses a heart from a ritual victim as part of it,” Starlight replied. “Basically, you carve out the victim’s heart, enchant it so that it’s still beating, and then place it in a ritual circle surrounded by the amberclaw prisms. It’s…how do I describe this?” Starlight mused. She was silent for a few moments, then cleared her throat.
“The spell works by…creating a small area where time is compressed so that an hour or so can pass within a couple of seconds. Uh…to put it this way, somepony standing inside the ritual’s area of effect wouldn’t notice anything different, but for somepony standing outside it, it would look like time just ‘skipped’ to the end, after the spell was over. So, like, if you used the spell to, uh, cook a five-course meal, from an outside perspective, it would look like you were standing in the kitchen one moment and the next, there was food on the table. Does that make sense?”
“Sort of,” Daring said. “And how does the heart tie into it?”
“It acts as a sort of…'pendulum’ to keep time going within the area,” Starlight answered.
Daring frowned in thought for a few moments. “Out of curiosity, what would happen if someone destroyed the heart?”
Starlight sucked in a breath. “Not sure…it might cause time to stop entirely, it might do nothing, or it might create a backlash of energy that turns into a black hole that the entire planet collapses into. Maybe…don’t do that?”
“Right,” Phillip said, looking at the amulet. “So what are the amulets for?”
“Those will make you immune to the spell’s effects,” Starlight replied. “If you wear it within the spell’s area, you can actually go into the ‘stopped time’ and change things.” She let out a breath. “I want you to understand: this is highly advanced and very dangerous magic. There is a reason that chronomancy was declared Forbidden Magic alongside necromancy, blood magic, enthrallment, and interdimensional travel: it’s dangerous to mess with time. If you don’t know what you’re doing, you could completely alter history, create alternate timelines or paradoxes that destroy the universe--”
“Starlight, you’re doing it again,” the muffled sound of a deep-throated mare’s voice came.
“G’day, Colonel,” Phillip said with a dry smile.
“Detectives,” Tempest Shadow replied. “I really hope you know what you’re doing.”
“So do we,” Daring Do said, taking one of the amulets and placing it around her neck.
Tempest sighed over the phone. “Detectives, Starlight and I wanted to say…we owe you. If it hadn’t been for you, Starlight and I would either be dead or working for Sombra. If you need help, we’ll be there.”
“You’re both helping plenty. Thank you,” Phillip replied. “Can you make more of these amulets?”
“I only had time to make three, but I can make more in the next few days,” Starlight replied.
“Hey! You two about done in there?” Swampfire’s voice groused from the door.
“No rest for the wicked,” Daring said, pocketing the spare amulet as Phillip placed the second around his neck. “Thanks, Starlight.”
“Good luck!” Starlight said before hanging up with a click.
The two of them went back to the other room, where Strider and Swampfire were poring over the letters that Scarlet had sent. “Most of these look like they were sent to publishing companies, trying to send out manuscripts,” Strider commented. He looked at their pendants. “What are those, gifts from secret admirers?”
“From a friend,” Phillip said, sitting down. He explained what Starlight had told them.
“Stopping time. Right,” Swampfire grumbled, rolling his eyes.
“This could be one of the biggest prison breaks of all time,” Phillip glared at him. “You can help or you can waste our time.”
Swampfire’s lip curled and he stalked off. “Clearly you don’t need my help,” he groused, slamming the door behind him.
“Bloody bludger,” Phillip spat. He scanned the documents in the boxes, then pulled out the blueprints of Clovenworth taken from the church. He spread the blueprints over the table.
“Should start thinking about how the breakout would work,” Phillip said.
“They’d need to smuggle the hearts and the prisms in somehow,” Daring said. “And set it up somewhere out of sight. Then they’d need to signal the rest of the congregation somehow…”
“Phone,” Phillip suggested. “Be somepony with access to the phones.”
“That narrows it down a bit,” Strider admitted. “But still…”
There was a brief silence as the three of them glanced at the door, then Daring leaned in.
“Why don’t we address the elephant in the room?” she hissed. “There’s no way that bird found our hotel by accident, and Salmon didn’t just guess that we were staying at the hotel.”
Phillip nodded grimly. “I’m sure we weren’t followed back. Somepony here told.”
“You think it’s Swampface?” Daring asked. “I really want it to be him.”
“I don’t think so,” Strider shook his head. “He’s selfish and stupid, but I can’t see him allying with…well, lunatics.”
“Being up himself doesn’t make him the bad guy,” Phillip agreed. “Need more evidence.” He paused. “Speaking of which: Salmon Fillet.”
“I got the report on the paint back from the forensic lab,” Strider said, pulling a small folder out of his saddlebags and flipping it open. “Top layer is light purple, with a layer of yellow beneath it.”
“Hmm. Narrows it down slightly,” Phillip mused.
“I went over the surveillance crystal footage from that night this morning, but didn’t see any cars that matched that description,” Strider shook his head.
“Killer knew to avoid them,” Phillip scowled. “And was able to catch up to him. Had to have been watching him.” His eyes turned hard. “Find the killer, might find the traitor.”
“Right. We keep our eyes and ears open for anything around here,” Daring nodded.
“In the meantime, let’s focus on making sure that nopony gets out of Clovenworth,” Strider said, returning his attention to the blueprints.
“We need to do it tonight.”
“Are you sure? We’d planned to wait until things had died down a bit…”
“It has to be now. The Stormbringers will be baying at our tails before the end of the next day, even with our agent trying to slow them down.”
“Damn Raconteur. An entire congregation and the blessings of the True Masters, and she couldn't kill two ponies.”
“She will be punished in time. What matters is we must move forward with this, before they have a chance to stop us.”
“You are certain that they--?”
“Impossible. We planned this to ensure that no interference would be possible. As long as you are able to do your part.”
“We are prepared: just be certain that the spell functions.”
“It will: I have practiced this many a time. Nothing will stop us now.”
Thunder and lightning crackled over the island, casting the concrete edifices in stark black and white. The cellblocks had been torn to ruins, twisted rebar jutting out from the fractured walls. The warden’s office, infirmary, barracks, and other buildings were warped and decayed, as though they’d been standing for centuries: the sagging roofs had massive holes in them, the windows were broken, and doors hung off the hinges. Sections of the chain-link fences stood like tattered curtains, the posts leaning drunkenly every which way.
Corpses were sprawled across the grounds, the snow stained with blood. The scent of rot filled their nostrils as they slowly made their way through the prison grounds. A flash of lightning illuminated a makeshift gallows in front of Daring and she gasped as she found herself staring up at the body of Brick Wall. Her decaying skin was sloughing off her bones, her limbs bare of flesh. Her swollen purple tongue dangled from her mouth; her eyes bulged from her face, locked onto hers as if accusing her, blaming her. The corpses of Counterintelligence and Sticky Note swung beside her, also staring balefully down at her with their rotting dead eyes.
Another lightning flash and a roar of thunder made the trio flinch. They stood back to back beneath the freezing downpour, squinting into the darkness, all of them panting and gasping like they’d run a marathon. Shapes danced back and forth amidst the shadows, just out of their reach. Laughter, hissed taunts, and threatening grumbles slithered into their ears over the sound of the rain and wind, and the screeching of unseen ravens and crows circling overhead assailed them.
“Run,” Phillip gasped.
They turned and sprinted, skidding in the bloody slush and stumbling over corpses in the darkness. Their pursuers chased after them, their taunts growing louder. A low chant began to sound, a familiar circular rhythm that their racing hearts marched to.
“Ehi, ehi, nyaglath, ger’uh angfah…ehi, ehi, nyaglath, ger’uh angfah…”
They reached where the exit gates should have been, but there was nothing but a solid concrete wall, blocking their way. “Shit, shit, shit,” Daring gasped as they backed up against the stone, glaring into the darkness. Their hooves reached for their holsters, and chills that had nothing to do with the biting wind went up their spines when they realized that their weapons had vanished.
Lightning flared through the sky once more, revealing a wall of indistinct figures closing in on them, blood spattered across their faces and coats. Their maddened eyes and wide smiles seemed to glow in the darkness and their chant grew as they approached, louder than the gale:
“EHI, EHI, NYAGLATH, GER’UH ANGFAH! EHI, EHI, NYAGLATH, GER’UH ANGFAH! EHI, EHI, NYAGLATH, GER’UH ANGFAH!”
The wall behind them suddenly shattered, sending them flying like bowling pins. Daring howled in agony as concrete debris landed on her wing, trapping her on the cold ground; the pain spread across her body like fire, summoning tears from her eyes. A lightning flash revealed a corpse of a guard staring directly at her.
The ground shook with massive footsteps: a hot, reeking wind slammed into her body and she heard her companions screaming behind her. Her pounding heart in her throat, Daring turned to see a pair of massive green eyes glaring down at her, yellow teeth spread in a grin. All she could do was scream as the huge, rotting limb reached down to grab her--
“Hey! Wake up!”
Daring, Phillip, and Strider all jolted awake with gasps, eyes wide in their pale faces, the motion sending the documents that they had been studying scattering to the floor. They whirled on the speaker as one, drawing their weapons.
“Whoa, whoa, easy!” Swift Judgement cried, lighting up her horn to form a shield in front of her.
It took a few moments for the three to get their breathing back under control. “Sorry, ma’am,” Strider said, holstering his revolver and mopping his sweaty mane.
“Bad dreams,” Daring added, coiling her stockwhip back up and returning it to her belt. Phillip nodded, replacing his waddy. “What time is it?” She glanced at the window to find that the sun had completely fallen. The skies were still overcast, and the only light outside came from the streetlamps and windows below. She heard no sounds of activity from the office outside.
“It’s just past two,” Swift Judgement replied. “We have to move, now.”
“What’s wrong?” Strider asked, rising.
“The silent alarm at Clovenworth just activated. There’s been a riot!”