Monsters

by JawJoe

A Life of Lies, part 2

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?”

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.

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.

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.”