New Page
Behind the Palace of Canterlot lay a courtyard always shadowed by spires and the creeping mountain above. There, in a dry field where grass didn't grow and no tree stood, a parched dirt road ran marred by ravines left behind by countless wheels. The path led directly into the mouth of a great cave: the engulfing entrance of the EBSS Headquarters.
Our cabin bumped as the cart's wheels jumped from one dried mud-track into another, and with a sudden yank, we came to a stop. The armoured stallion at the end of the cabin stood up to inspect the cuffs on our hooves and the wingbinds encircling our chests. We'd arrived.
He lifted the curtain and waved for his friends to help us from the cabin. The chains on my legs barely left enough room to hobble over to the cabin's edge, and they had to lift me down lest I broke something trying to jump.
Mama didn't move. She did not put up a fight or even acknowledge the urging words of the armoured ponies; she merely sat slumped against the cabin's side and stared at the spot where I'd been sitting. They got her out of the cabin and made her stand, then began driving her into the cave with none-too-light tugs and pushes. I required no such persuasion; I knew they'd get me in there one way or another. No point in delaying the inevitable, I thought, and if I was going to walk into the mountain never to see light again, I'd at least do it on my own accord.
They did not tell us anything, and I knew better than to plead or beg. I trusted they knew what they wanted from me, and when they thought appropriate, they would ask.
So it was that Mama and I descended into the dark, cold caverns beneath Canterlot, our way guided by tiny sparks of magical light that festooned the stalactitic cave, our steps dogged by Celestia's most faithful pets.
It wasn't long before we came to a massive slab of metal embedded into the rock, studded by gems and imprinted runes, and guarded by a pair of stallions: the door to the inner sanctum. Unlike our EBSS escorts, these two guards had golden armour and white coats underneath: Royal Guards by any description. Celestia must have figured the EBSS should not spend their time on something as menial as guarding a doorway.
They consulted our escorts as to who they were and whom they brought, and after a few minutes checking papers, they confirmed that we could enter.
They blindfolded us first. After they made sure our eyes are properly covered, there was silence for a moment.
I heard metal scrape on metal as the slab slid to the side, and I felt the rush of air fleeing the space beyond, warm and stuffy as it brushed my coat. A shove against my back signalled that I was to begin walking.
We'd made many turns and even braved a few sets of stairs, though I did not care to count how many. I heard the off-hoof remarks of the dogs as they passed by, whispering about the Children of the Night and ridding the land of 'my' kind. In the blackness before my eyes, I found myself assigning personalities to every hushed whisper. It was one way to keep my mind occupied.
By this time I'd made peace with the fact that I'd spend the rest of my days here. As for Mama, well, she was innocent. If the EBSS was so smart, they had to know that.
I hoped they knew that.
A door again slid open, and a push sent me forward. My hoof caught on a high doorsill, nearly making me fall. Once inside, they removed my blindfold. Only there did I realise that Mama was no longer with me.
They'd taken me to a small cell lit dimly by a permeating light with no discernible source. The guards had already left; one was just in the process of sliding the barred door back in its place.
I rushed to wrap my hooves around the bars. “Is she safe?”
The guard reached across the bars to shove my back, clicking the door in place and turning a rusty key.
I ran up again, sticking my muzzle between the bars. “Is Mama safe? Please, is she safe?”
He looked at me with a disdain I'd never encountered. It started to sink in, then, that to these ponies I was nothing but another 'threat to the state': not a pony, not even a criminal, just another element to be removed, a piece of documentation to be filed, a statistic to be logged.
I wondered whether only ponies without souls applied to the EBSS or if giving them up was part of their contract.
The cell itself was... I'd have said small, but in all honesty, it wasn't much smaller than my bedroom. About two by two ponies in area, and the floor – dirty as it was – wasn't even littered by parchments and books.
A large, stained bag of linen lay by the far wall, stuffed by old hay that absolutely reeked with the smells of leakage dripping from the mountain wall and bodily secretions of the ponies who'd been here before. My bed, I took it – though even the floor seemed more inviting.
I must've spent hours in there; it really is hard to tell in the absence of the Sun or even the sky, and nothing with which to occupy yourself. In that time I'd examined every last inch of the floor – I'd memorised the places of the largest, darkest stains so as not to roll into them in my sleep – I'd scanned every little grey brick that lined the wall and could, with a reasonable accuracy, point out the thickest cracks even with my eyes shut.
I'd made an ostensible friend of a spider in the upper corner of the room, and I'd watched it half-untangle a worm of some kind from its webby cocoon for its feast. Good on you, spider, I thought. Protect me from the nasty little things.
From what I could tell by poking my nose through the bars, my cell was at the end of a reasonably long hallway. Though the opposite wall was just a long, uninterrupted surface of solid bricks, I wagered that my side had to be lined by similar cells to my own. Although I heard no other prisoners, which meant that either I was alone in the entire hallway, or well, maybe they were in no shape to make a sound.
Wedging my muzzle out as far as I could and turning my eyes to the right to a point of near-popping, I could make out a none-too-amused guard leaning into the corner, his spear flung casually over his shoulder. No matter how many times I called out to him, though, he made no acknowledgement of my presence. This guard, too, was a Royal Guard: spotless white coat under ornate armour.
After some time – I couldn't tell how long exactly, though it felt somewhere around a gruelling eternity – I heard a new sound, this time from the left. Several ponies approached, the clopping of their hooves echoing through the hallway and resonating in the bars.
They stopped before my cell: a middle-aged mare and stallion. They wore no armour and bore no weapons of any kind, though the older stallion carried a blindfold in his hoof.
“Moving me again?” I asked.
The older stallion cleared his throat; he had a terrible scar where his neck met his chest, jagged and hairless. The gurgling noises he made belonged more to a stuck hog meeting its end at the claws of a griffon rather than any equine's voice.
“Yes,” he said as the mare undid the lock.
The door slid aside, and I stepped out. The stallion walked behind me and began tying the blindfold around my head.
“Mama did nothing wrong,” I said. “Is she okay?”
The stallion gurgled. “That depends on what you have to tell us.” He made one last, tightening pull on the blindfold, then pushed my shoulder. “Move.”
It wasn't a long trip; a few turns and a single door's opening and slamming shut later, they sat me down in a chair, placing my hooves on a table before me.
“This conversation will decide your life,” the gravelly-sounding stallion said as he untied the blindfold, “and your mother's. Do not be a fool.”
He removed the blindfold. It took a few seconds for my eyes to again get used to the light. In the time I spent rubbing my eyes, I heard the mare and stallion leave the room.
“Hooves on the table,” said a new voice.
The voice made me freeze, my hooves still at my eyes. I knew that voice.
“That is not the table,” he said.
Slowly, I put my hooves down. I needed a deep breath before opening my eyes.
Across the table sat a grey stallion I'd thought my friend, with a scar on his cheek, a booming authority in his voice, and absolutely no emotion in his expression. In the shadowless room, the wrinkles that marred his visage seemed even more pronounced; the skin under his eyes sagged in dark, loose bags, exposing a redness under his stare.
“I am truly sorry it had to come to this,” Swift Sweep said. “It is in our best interests to spend as little time in here as possible, wouldn't you agree?”
“Or you'll hurt Mama.”
He put his hooves together, grinding one against the other. “Celestia does not condone harm to the innocent. If, however, circumstances were to change so that Veiled Quill is deemed a potential threat to Equestria, we will be forced to treat her accordingly.”
His voice was cold. The room was cold. I didn't think this place would get to me – I fared rather well in the cell, hadn't I? – or at least not this quickly. But to see Swift Sweep like this... in hindsight, I should have known. It was obvious, and I had been a complete moron. It hurt more not because I felt betrayed by him – though that was bad, too – but because I felt cheated by myself.
He came at a point when I was vulnerable, because of course he did, and I latched onto him immediately. Shows how much I wanted to have a Papa.
For all my pride in leaving home and living alone as an adult, I came to understand that I still was the same gullible kid that had followed Flora Dawn into the woods in search of a mythical pond.
“You are a known member of the Children of the Night,” Swift continued. “You have assisted in the theft of countless irreplaceable books from the Canterlot Archives, not to mention the Soul Gem of Princess Luna. As you imagine, Number Thirty-Nine, to say you are in trouble is an astounding understatement.”
So they knew all that. What do they even need me for? “You must have written my confession already,” I said. “Just tell me where to sign.”
“If you signed such a confession, you would be looking at a death penalty. The books are one thing, Number Thirty-Nine, but taking a piece of Luna's soul is, in Celestia's eyes, paramount to taking part of her own.”
“So what do you want from me?”
“I understand that Flora Dawn is your good friend.”
“Was,” I corrected. “I cut ties after the Star Swirl Wing.”
“As you are no doubt aware, she is also called Priestess Nichts by the Children of the Night. Tell me everything you know about the Children of the Night.”
“What's there to know?” I asked. “A bunch of weirdos who idolise Luna and are obsessed with the Longest Night. You know that's serious, coming from me. Still, I wanted to learn about the same things, as you well know. Flora offered me a means to break into the Archives and get my hooves on knowledge Celestia wouldn't let me have. The only price was that she got most of them. Frankly, I didn't even know her little group had a name until recently.” I chewed my lip. “Mama... my mother knew nothing about any of this. She doesn't even live—”
“She lives in Horsmouth,” Swift interrupted, “in the upstairs room of one stallion called Oakbranch. She works as his maid, as she has since you two moved there. As far as we can tell, she is not implicated whatsoever in this matter. As such, for the time being, she is being cared for and catered to. All of that might change, however. Tell me about Nichts.”
“I'm not really fighting for my own life here, am I?”
Swift only glared in my eyes, expression as hollow as ever. “Tell me about Nichts.”
Though I did not like Flora very much – not any more – she did save my life from Corona. I did not like her, no, but I liked talking about her even less. “Flora Dawn was my childhood friend, back in Horsmouth. She ran away when she was...” I rubbed my forehead. “Seven, maybe? I hadn't seen her until early this year, when I was already living here. She knocked on my door one day and outlined her, er, deal that I've already mentioned.”
“What else?”
“She seems to be very enthusiastic about this Children business. Loves to preach. No wonder they call her Priestess.”
Swift nodded, and cast a quick glance at the table. Following his gaze, I noticed a tiny blue gem embedded in the wood at the centre.
“Have you ever met a pony whom they call Prophet Nie?”
And now we've really jumped into it. “If I tell you, will you let my mother go?”
“We have reason to believe that the Children are looking for you. And if they can't find you, they might take her to extort you. She is being held, at present, for her own protection.”
“So what?” I asked. “You're never letting her go regardless of what I say?”
“It seems I'm not getting through to you here.” He licked his lips, leaning forward. “Veiled Quill, as of this moment, is enjoying the protection of the EBSS because we have no reason to suspect she was part of your little scheme. It's up to you to provide enough information to support that assumption.”
“They're a bunch of kids!” I snapped, slamming a hoof on the table. “They took in Nichts, they took in all the others who had nowhere to go. They helped me find answers about my own life that Celestia would've buried forever. I don't like them, no sir.” I shuffled my bat wing under the wingbind. “But I can't just give them up. You take Nichts... you take Flora, you'll ruin so many more lives.”
He raised his brows. “I admire your sincerity. You are, however, entirely ignorant of who the Children of the Night really are – or you're pretending to be. Now, we both know that if we want you to talk, you will talk. We have ways, Number Thirty-Nine, and you're nowhere near the toughest nut we've had to crack.” He touched his hooves together again. “I would much prefer to resolve this quickly and... cleanly.”
I tried to look brave, I really did. Flora was crazy, but she was not a bad pony – I did not want to toss her to the dogs. Swift was just trying to intimidate me, I knew it.
I gulped.
Swift took his hooves off the table, leaning back and running his gaze across the ceiling. He then leaned forward with a sigh; in his eyes, I saw a frankness he hadn't shown since the last time we met at the Pristine Pillars. If I hadn't known better, I might have believed these were really the eyes of a concerned friend: a stare that begged to be heeded.
It looked like he was trying to hide it, but I saw him gulp, too.
“There is no use playing hero to these ponies. Help me help you, Page.”
Swift Sweep
I told River Flow everything.
Well, not everything-everything. Lullaby was innocent, after all, and entirely unaware of my withholding information from the EBSS. I lied to her as I lied to them all. But now I'd came clean, clean about my connection to New Page, clear about why I sought to protect her – clear about how she had to be the Progeny that the Children of the Night needed to fulfil their plan.
Whatever that plan was.
To Lullaby's insistence, River allowed me to interrogate Page. The plan was simple: although by her crimes she might have deserved the worst of punishments, she was also the single most important pony the EBSS had ever captured. She knew Priestess Nichts, she'd seen Prophet Nie, and for once, she might have actually known a thing or two about him. She was not some fanatical devotee, but their victim. All I had to do was convince River of that.
I asked for the reports of Project Heartbreak, and I helped Page dig in deep, exposing her to decades of heinous crimes. She resisted at first, naturally; she'd set up enough mental barriers between her friend Flora and the mysterious Priestess of the Children to protect herself from facing harsh truths.
A few years ago, we'd busted a commune in the Everfree that revelled in incestuous fornication: apparently the Children's foray into eugenics, an attempt to create some sort of transcendent equine by mixing all three pony races. A colony of abductees locked in a perpetual high of ambrosial magicks and undone inhibition, guarded by a few ponies who did not partake. Page remembered she'd received a book from Nichts that speculated on the origin of the alicorn race, as did she recall Nichts mentioning in passing – as a joke, she thought – a spell that could get her any stallion.
I showed her the records of the abductions in Canterlot, how young and old alike had been going missing until we raided that mansion not long prior. I had one of the comatose survivors brought to the room on a stretcher, and I made Page touch the scarred, saggy skin of his stomach that would never completely heal.
She knew what this was: she'd stolen Sombra's forbidden Grimoire of Fleshmoulds herself. When asked, she simply kept repeating she didn't know. It must have been easier to say than that she didn't care – that she had been afraid to ever ponder.
When she broke down crying and could no longer read through her tears, I read aloud for her. I hated to trample what little remained of the girl's precious innocence, but I reassured myself that such a visceral reaction was a good thing. Profound remorse like hers was difficult to fake, and it could go a long way in easing her punishment.
And there was much to feel remorse about. The papers of Project Heartbreak seemed a never-ending theatre of horrors all put on play in honour of the greatest monster who had ever lived. For these were the Children of the Night: Nightmare Moon's most devoted servants.
My disgust for them far exceeded my hate for any other of her creations, for whilst most of the Nightmare's fiends did not reach further than a primal desire to destroy to justify their deeds, the Children of the Night sought to explain away their actions by visions of grandeur and empty words of ideology. Nightmare Moon had revelled in seeing the end of her world; these ponies poised themselves to be its saviours. The worst part was that they believed it themselves.
And whether she liked it or not, New Page was now one of them.
Page talked. She talked like I knew she would, revealing everything she knew. She told us all she knew about Nichts, and she talked about her dreams of a mare in chains. She explained in great detail who – rather, what – Prophet Nie was, how he influenced one's mind by a mere look into their eyes, and how he was able to recover from wounds that would have killed an ordinary pony twice over.
Indeed, if we were to believe her words – and I felt inclined to – then Prophet Nie was unlike anything the EBSS had ever faced. We'd conducted surveillance on old, senile nobles; we'd kept records on troublesome youth; at times, we'd even gone after brutish demons like the elusive White Wolf. Never had we faced a creature so slippery, so insidious as Nie.
I was sure our associates in the EBSS laboratories would love to take the fiend apart to find out what made him tick.
Page continued the tale. She revealed the location of the Children's hideout: the mansion of the noble Starcall Comet the Third. She told us about the mirror and how they'd used it to break into the Archives, and she told us all about Nichts' 'Alicorn Amulet'.
At least now we knew how Nichts had burnt through the Inhibitor back that night.
Her tears had long dried by the time we finished. Page was drained – she stared blankly and breathed with heavy gasps, throat dry and voice hoarse after she'd given us everything.
She swallowed hard, licking her cracked lips. “Please,” she begged, her wavering voice barely louder than a whisper. “Can I see Mama?”
I stacked up the last batch of papers on the table – and tried not to make the shaking of my hooves apparent. I had to be strong now, stronger than I'd ever been. I pretended to be reading one of the papers rather than look her in the eye. “Unfortunately, that is not for me to decide.” Because I could not just say no to her.
Her ears drooped, and her gaze fell with it. She slouched in her seat, eyes on the floor. “I understand,” she whispered, punctuating with a tired sniff.
“Excuse me for a moment, Page.”
I left her alone in the room. She clearly needed time for the full gravity of her actions to dawn on her – but more importantly, I had to ask for something.
River waited outside, tapping his hoof and making the entire hallway resound with every hit. “So that's it, then? Bank everything on the confession of one girl?”
“She is the Progeny,” I replied. “Whatever Nie wants, he needs her for it.”
“So it's in our best interest to keep her around,” he said.
“As an informant, not a prisoner.”
“Just because she feels sorry, doesn't mean she's a good pony.” He leaned close, chin raised high so he could look down on me. “That goes for you too. I'll take you to Celestia personally once this is over.”
I knew River would relish the chance to get rid of me – but that wasn't something I cared about. Whatever was going to happen to me, I was ready to accept it. Page concerned me far more. “Informant.”
“We'll see about that.” He turned his eyes to the ceiling. “Team's already upstairs planning the raid on Comet's place. And this time, we'll be prepared.”
“I don't know, River. It's not just Nichts and her amulet. Nie is supposed to be there, and he sounds as bad as the White Wolf, if not worse. No disrespect to your puppies, but I don't think they're going to be enough.”
He gave me a look like I was a complete idiot. “What, you think I'm just sending the kids? They're fodder, Swift. I'm bringing the entire Royal Guard down on that house, subtlety be damned.”
“I'm fairly certain you'd need Celestia's consent for that.”
River grinned.
Oh.
We would not repeat the same mistakes this time. Nichts would not get away. Although an individual Royal Guard lacked the expertise of us old dogs, they made up for that in their sheer numbers. On Celestia's order, every Royal Guard presently stationed in Canterlot now answered directly to River Flow.
Preparations were made in secret through a few couriers spreading the message across the Royal Guard. All were instructed to remain at their posts so as not to tip off the Children; when the signal came, they would know where to go. We gradually increased the number of guards on the walls and had a few more rolled out onto the streets, but subtly so. An ordinary civilian should not have been able to notice that anything was happening.
While the Royal Guards would make up the brunt of the strike force, it was left to the EBSS to spearhead the raid. We outfitted dozens of puppies with power armour and covertly moved them close to the Starcall Comet residence.
The mansion was out on a rocky cliffside at the edge of the city: it stood lonesome at the precipice of the great drop, meaning none of us could get too close without being in plain sight. River had arranged a wagon to pass by the mansion on its way to the Plaza, bearing the crest of the Apple family – the single most inconspicuous thing River could think of.
On the corner of the road that led down the hill to the mansion, an inconveniently placed rock would shatter an axle and break one of the cart's wheels. One of the stallions who pulled the wagon would go off looking for help, while the other would stay behind to watch over their wares.
The accident happened on time, and the Apple stallion arrived in our workshop exactly as he had to. River and I adjusted our workers' caps, and I clenched my teeth on a spare wheel. Thus, we approached the cart.
As we walked down the narrow alleyway that connected the workshop to the street, I peeked from under the bill of my cap. A Royal Guard perched on the low balcony of a nearby spire. I did not see him turn his head, but he clapped a hoof on the horn hanging from his belt as we passed. He was ready and waiting.
Once at the cart, I gave the wheel to the Apples, helping him prop the cart for repairs. While they worked, River and I climbed inside to inspect their goods.
Behind the many crates filled to the brim with succulent fruit and barrels of frothy cider, we found two peculiar boxes. Peculiar not just because they bore the signs of pears as opposed to apples, but also because they were not carrying foodstuff at all.
River closed the curtains of the cart as I unpacked the boxes: enchanted black plate to go over rune-inscribed chainmail, heavy helmets to protect the skull and cover the face, and wingplates with blades to go at the tip of every feather. We fastened the latches and tightened the straps – any EBSS agent worth his salt had to know how to put their armour on in a matter of minutes.
River walked to the curtain, rattling his wings in anticipation. Even with a visor over his face, I could plainly see the resentment in his eyes.
“You stay with me, understand?”
I closed my eyes for a moment, taking in a deep breath and slowly exhaling.
“Believe me,” I said, “I want to catch these bastards as much as you do. More than you do.”
He narrowed his eyes. “We'll see about that.” Clearing his throat, he knocked a hoof on his chest a few times and gasped for a deep breath. “Ready or not...”
We jumped from the wagon at the same time, the pavement crumbling under the impact.
All I saw before me was the rocky path that led to the mansion, and before my mind's eye I already saw myself crushing Nichts' throat under my jagged horseshoes. River could have Nie.
A horn bellowed across the city. Within seconds, Royal Guards filled the sky and descended on the building like a starved swarm. From the surrounding buildings and a few inconspicuous-looking carts jumped more ponies in black armour, all charging down the hill.
The horn's sound still echoed, mixing with the thunder of metal-covered hooves bashing rock and pavement: an avalanche to bury the Children of the Night in their own hideout.
As the Royal Guards broke through the windows of the mansion, I bucked the front door off its hinges. Hundreds of Royal Guards reinforced the perimeter all around the mansion, and several squads of them galloped in our steps.
We could not have been more thorough. There wasn't a single nook or cranny where the lunatics could have hidden or escaped. Even if Nichts chose to put up a fight, she wouldn't catch us off guard: we knew from experience she needed time to overpower an Inhibitor, and this time we would not let her charge such an immense spell.
It was all perfect.
As River and I ran through the building, tearing the parquet and shredding carpets, I looked every which way. Every window broken, every room invaded, the tightest of spaces secured.
And there was nopony home.
We made it up the stairs, to the hall where Page said we'd find the portal-mirror. I shouldered the door open, ready to catch these lunatics in their desperate escape.
Looking back, I should've noticed the smell earlier.
There in that windowless hall, we found the only remaining inhabitants of the the Starcall residence, frozen in a grotesque scene. They were two stallions – or rather, one and a half.
Starcall Comet the Third slumped in an armchair, head slack on his shoulder and pipe hanging loosely from his mouth, his dead eyes staring into the distance. His right hoof drooped over the armrest, coat encrusted by old, dried blood. A congealed pool stained the carpet under his slit fetlock where a bloodied kitchen knife rested.
But even that was a dignified death compared to the sight that welcomed us behind him.
A stallion's rump slouched against the great mirror at the far end of the room. It was a corpse cut in half along his hip; above, a blackened trail of blood left a mark on the glass as though the corpse had slid off. His other half was nowhere to be seen. The picture on his flanks of a silver platter covered by a dome told us who he was: Starcall's butler, described by Page as strange and unresponsive even in his life. We could only speculate as to how he'd become that way; his mind might have been fried by Nie, if what Page had said about the demon's powers were true. Perhaps the butler would have come to us otherwise.
The flies had already got to work on both bodies, invading their orifices and filling their softest tissues with their young. Behind us, Royal Guards and puppies rushed in, most skidding to a halt with yelps and visible heaves of their stomachs.
I recognised the empty sockets that festooned the top of the mirror: by Page's account, these had to be the places of the enchanted gemstones that had powered the magical portal. Now there was nothing but a series of silver-lined holes, all vacant.
“Sir!” called a Royal Guard by a fireplace.
The building had to have been abandoned for days, yet hot embers still smouldered in the fireplace. The guard poked the flame with a stick.
“I think these are books, sir.”
Just as I was about to take a closer look, I felt a powerful impact at my head that sent me to the floor. Though my helmet mitigated the pain, it was still enough to disorient me. I got on my hooves to the sight of River lowering his hind legs.
He stamped over, pushing me back to the floor. “You imbecile! They knew we were coming!” The guards and puppies gathered around us – and they watched, either in entertainment or in fear of River. “You should've arrested Page a week ago, but no, you couldn't, you didn't, you useless piece of—”
His tirade quickly descended into a fit of coughs. He grasped to his throat and banged at his chest, coughing and spitting, mucus splattering through his helmet's visor. I took pleasure in swift karmic punishment; I did because the only response I could've provided would've been screaming insults right back. Because I knew he was right. It was all my fault, was it not?
If I had only brought in Page the moment I learned of her involvement with the Children of the Night. I tried to protect her, and for what?
Yet nothing River could say and no amount of self-hatred would set things right now. There was nothing left to do but go forward. After all, we still had the one thing the Children wanted the most: New Page herself. So long as we kept her out of their reach, at least until the Summer Sun Celebration was over – tomorrow night – we could yet win.
One day. That's all we needed.
I clapped a hoof on River's shoulder. Gradually, he recovered from his fit. He straightened himself, giving me a stare.
I turned to the Royal Guards. “Search the building, make sure there's nopony hiding anywhere. You know who to report to.” I looked at River. “I fucked up, you don't need to remind me. I'm certain Celestia will give me a fitting sentence. Until then...” I walked for the door. “We've got other matters to attend to.”
If Nie was coming for Page, we'd have to prepare accordingly.
Celestia gave us until the Summer Sun Celebration to find Nie. Though she did not specify a punishment if we were to fail, I had a feeling I did not want to find out.
River was furious – he insisted he take the hoof vice to Page to find out if there was anything she kept from us. I protested, pointing out he had much better spend his time assessing our raid on the mansion. There was much to go through, indeed: half-burned books, partial parchments, and the reports of our unicorns analysing the residual magic of the mirror.
He did not listen. I discarded all pretence, all sense of pride; I begged River to be the one to interrogate Page again. Perhaps I succeeded in appealing to his arrogance, or maybe he simply loved to see me suffer. I did not put either of those past him. In the end, River conceded.
But I would have to use the vice; that was an order. If I refused, he'd do it himself all the same.
It was nothing I hadn't done before. You merely place the hoof in the vice and turn the rack until you hear the crack. It did good to wrap the leg in a towel of sorts, as that helped absorb the blood before it got on the vice. An interrogator of my skill could draw out that first splitting of the hoof and keep the recipient on edge for hours. The tighter the vice, the looser the tongue.
It also paid to draw out the time between turns on the crank so that the pain had time to settle before springing up anew.
Simple. Routine. Emotionless. I'd learned how to block out the screams.
Lullaby agreed to do it for me.
I knew – I hoped – she would be more merciful than River. I retreated to my room an entire level below. Even through the thick layer of rock and the pillow pulled over my head, Page's cries of agony and pleas to stop echoed in my ears.
Of course, she could tell us no more than she already had.
If I had brought her in earlier, maybe this could've been avoided. We could have found Nie and Nichts before they had a chance to flee, and then... and then Page would have been sent to the mines, or for her young age, a re-education camp at best on the Griffon border.
Now wouldn't that have been better?
We had one thing going for us; in all likelihood our arrest of Page had not been anticipated by Nie. Page insisted Nie was unaware of our surveillance of her – Nichts revealing herself in her apartment was evidence to that – and she told us Nie had let her walk out. She was also apparently unaware of any future plans involving her. Not that she was the least bit surprised upon being told.
What we knew for certain was that Page's role as the 'Progeny' was important, and as long as we had her, they could not use her. Nonetheless, we took all the precautions we could; we knew that Nie and Nichts possessed magicks that could tunnel through even the supposedly impenetrable defences of the Star Swirl the Bearded Wing, which meant there was little we could do.
We had Page taken to a special cell near the laboratories, one normally reserved for the odd supernatural fiends we came across in our investigations – and cared to detain rather than put down immediately. With a piece of Nightmare Moon's soul supposedly residing inside of her, she actually fit that description quite well. The cell had an outfitting of spellblocks and reasonably good shields, for what it was worth.
Whilst she stayed there, we spent the day going over the books and tomes we were able to recover from the mansion. Every fireplace in the building had been stuffed with the texts, and the fires had long since had their way with these precious, stolen documents. The puppies even pulled a few out of a stove.
Most parchments were damaged beyond any legibility. Based on the scarce details of eldritch rituals I could make out in what remained, I thought that might have been for the best.
As for the mirror, the unicorns could confirm some magical residue inside of it, but nothing more. If only we'd got there faster, they said, shortly after the portal opened...
My bad.
I'd lost all hope by the time the Sun went down. Nie was gone, and so was Nichts and their entire cult. We went through all of the reports and interrogated many of the lunatics we'd brought in on previous days, but nothing yielded anything. To most of them Nie was more like a mythological figure than a flesh and blood equine, somepony they hoped in their wildest dreams to perhaps see one day. Whilst Priestess Nichts spread the gospel among these misguided folk, Nie had been at work in the shadows all these years.
In the meantime, the unicorns in the labs poked and prodded Page, trying to find out more about the supposed fragment of Luna's soul inside of her. We considered calling Celestia to excise the fragment from her, as she had from us Night Guards. However the unicorns found the soul so diluted it seemed to barely even exist.
Or rather, it was hardly a separate piece woven between the threads of Page's soul; it seemed, in fact, part of her very being. Celestia's magic might have disintegrated Page's soul outright before the corrupting influence was gone entirely. Even in the best of cases, it might have severely hurt Page – and right now, we needed her alive and well.
River paced up and down in his office. “Celestia is going to have our heads.”
“Yeah, probably,” Lullaby mumbled around the rasp in her mouth, leaning back in her chair. She focused her attention on filing away at a forehoof. “But hey, at least we've got the Progeny, and we completely shut down their operation here in Canterlot. That counts for something.”
Closing my eyes, I placed the side of my head against the wall and let loose a groan of exhaustion. “There has to be something we're missing. Page... New Page said Nichts lost a leg. They couldn't have got far, wherever they are.”
“Oh, they could have,” said River, still pacing. “We had a train depart just yesterday.”
“So check where that went,” Lullaby replied.
River stomped. “I have! They weren't on it.”
“I still expect them to come for New Page,” I said. “Have we got our defences ready?”
He rolled his eyes. “Yes. And if they're stupid enough to assault EBSS HQ during the Summer Sun Celebration, they really do deserve everything that's coming to them.”
“We should be on the lookout, is all I'm saying.”
“Noted. Got any more genius insights, or—” Somepony knocked on the door. “Ah, that's gotta be a guard. Sure took his sweet time. Yes!”
The door opened, and a squeamish-looking Royal Guard stepped in. It was the new guy I'd come to recognise by now. Frankly, I didn't even like looking at him; he filled me with this second-hoof awkwardness that I could barely tolerate.
He gulped before he spoke. “You needed a guard, sir?”
“Yeah,” said River, “so tell me if you find one.” He began laughing, or at least tried to – it sounded more like another fit of coughs.
The Royal Guard puffed his chest, trying to mask the clear offence in his eyes with that stone-cold look all of them learned to put on. “Sir?”
“Just... just get me Number Thirty-Nine, would you?” asked River. “Bring her to the interrogation room.”
He glared at him, cocking his head slightly.
River rubbed the side of his head, giving a sigh. “Special Containment, block D.”
“Ah.” The guard nodded with a charming smile. “Close by, then. It should only be a minute.”
“Why are you still standing here?”
The guard threw a quick salute, then walked off without even closing the door.
“The only thing I hate more than the puppies are these sorry Royal Guards,” grumbled River.
I rolled my eyes. “There's something we can agree on.”
“Give him a break, boys,” mumbled Lullaby and threw one of her legs behind the backrest of her seat, taking the rasp to her other hoof. “Everypony starts somewhere, and the day's been rough on all of us.” She lifted her hoof. “You think it looks fine?”
River quit pacing and stopped besides Lullaby. “How do you do it?”
“Do what?” she asked, throwing the rasp behind her back; it bounced against the ceiling and landed on top of a high shelf with a clatter.
River's brows furrowed, and he shook his head slightly. “How do you even exist?”
“I just know how to keep my cool.”
“Keeping it is one thing, being clinically incapable of losing it is another.”
“I got angry once.” She shot me a glance. “Let's not repeat that.”
River threw up a hoof in concession, then began pacing again.
Lullaby closed her eyes, putting her hooves in her lap. I lightly knocked my head at the wall a few times. River's steps resonated in the room, clop, clop, clop.
“Guard's sure taking his sweet time,” River said.
I scoffed. “Think Page's hoof might be slowing her down?”
River stopped again. “What are you looking at me for? I didn't do it.” He cocked his head towards Lullaby. “Blame your girlfriend.”
She didn't open her eyes, but spoke through her teeth. “Didn't we just agree to not make me angry?”
I kept thinking about that guard. I could not wrap my head around the fact that a skinny wimp like him could make the Royal Guard. The way he'd looked around the room, like some terrified child at a doctor's office! His tiny stature barely filled out his ornate armour.
The more times I'd seen him loitering around the place, the more I just shrugged him off. It felt more comfortable, not thinking much about the guy.
But now... something about him rubbed me the wrong way, just gnawing at the back of my mind. Like I was missing something obvious, like I'd just woken up and tried to hold on to the fading memories of my dream, just on the verge of remembering.
That guard seemed young, younger than any recruit I'd ever seen. And tiny. I thought back, picturing him before me; his legs were like twigs. A fly farts on him, and his knees crack.
I couldn't put a hoof on it. The more I tried to remember, the more I seemed to forget. A voice in my head told me to just let it go. What did that guy matter to me, anyway?
“You think our little guard got lost?” I asked.
Lullaby got up and stretched. “When did that guy even come here? I've been seeing him around, but I can't really put a hoof on where he's supposed to be posted.”
“He's with me,” River responded. Then he raised a hoof to rub his chin. “I think. He usually tottered about here at Heartbreak, never really went anywhere else. That when he even deigned to show up.”
That was the moment – when the realisation came, washing over me like a tidal wave.
I burst outside, looking where the guard had gone off. And I tried to remember, I tried with all my might... but I could not recall.
“Red eyes,” I mumbled. “Doesn't that guy have red eyes?”
His face was a blur in my mind; a gap in my memory. When I thought about him, I thought of an amicable, submissive, and entirely unimpressive young stallion. I did not hate him as much as I pitied him.
His face... I'd only seen him a moment ago, yet I could not remember his face. What was his name, anyway?
A white pegasus with a smile that rivalled the innocence of a newborn. A face that softened even the hardest of hearts.
A pair of red eyes that pierce into your soul.
No wonder that all the ponies we'd brought in suddenly forgot about their leader. No wonder that both Heavy Yoke and Red Petal turned up dead as soon as they spoke his name. As I turned back to the others, I saw the horror of understanding dawn behind their eyes as well.
Prophet Nie had been here all along.
I bolted down the hallway. Lullaby and River galloped right after me. Coming to a turn, I nearly slammed into the next wall.
A few more turns and stairs and near-slips later, we arrived at Special Containment D. Page's cell was at the very end of a rune-inscribed corridor with a lone Royal Guard leaning against the wall beside it – and we came just in time to see him give the cell's key to Nie.
“Stop him!” I shouted. The guard at the end looked confused. I rushed forward on three legs, pointing at Nie. “Him! Don't let him get in!”
Getting over his initial puzzlement, the guard flourished his spear and lunged at Nie. Nie continued to fiddle with the lock with perfect composure.
He didn't so much as flinch when the guard drove the spear into his side.
As he opened the door, he flared his eyes at the Royal Guard. He fell back and crawled to the wall, all the while screaming something about a demon who'd come to reap his soul.
I leapt at Nie, but he managed to jump out of my way into the cell, and I landed awkwardly on the floor. Before I even got up, River and Lullaby had already grabbed onto the bars of the door. Nie closed it with a single yank despite their efforts to hold it, then locked it from the inside.
He grinned at us before turning around, undoing the latch on his ill-fitting breastplate. The piece fell, and a small blue crystal bounced out of it.
Nie reared and stomped on the crystal, which lit up with bright light. “I've found her, Nichts!” He threw off his Royal Guard helmet, whipping his long mane loose with a flick of his head – and grinning gloatingly at us as he did.
Inside the cell, Page was just waking up to the commotion. There was a dark rag wrapped around one of her hooves; it made the blood harder to see. The moment she opened her eyes, a look of absolute terror washed over her face. “No!” she wailed. “Get him away from me!”
I shoved the others aside and flipped around. I reared on my front legs and began bucking at the enchanted bars with all my might. Whether it would be the iron or my bones, something was going to break. If only I had my power armour...
A beam of light shot up from the blue gem, collecting at the ceiling and swirling like fire. A second later, a magical portal opened in thin air between Page and Nie. It wasn't like Page had described it, however; the portal had a gentle curve in the air as opposed to mimicking the plane of a mirror, and it appeared much smaller than I'd expected.
Nie grabbed Page. She kicked and writhed, screaming for help, but Nie easily overpowered her despite being much smaller than her. He picked her up and threw her head-first across the portal.
As the bars bent and broke at the impacts of my hooves, Nie stepped through to the other side as well. The guard's spear still stuck out from between his ribs, yet drew no blood whatsoever.
“Tell Celestia,” he said, “that her sister is coming back to her.”
The lock gave way in the last second. One last kick threw the door open – giving me one second to look in Nie's eyes before the portal closed in front of us. Part of the spear's shaft remained on this side; the portal's closing sent it clattering against the floor with a perfect, sizzling cut.
So it was over.
Page was gone.
River dropped to his haunches, staring where the portal had been and tearing at the skin under his eyes. Lullaby closed her eyes and began taking deep breaths. Though calm on the surface, she chewed her lips and thereby betrayed her underlying tension.
I'd expected to feel anger, a seething fury to come boiling to the surface. Or perhaps fear and fantasies of the punishment Celestia would prescribe for us. Yet, somehow, I felt none of that. Perhaps my mind decided it had worried enough these past few days.
I noted the blue crystal that Nie had used to signal Nichts. I picked it up, smelling it, and felt a piquant spike of magic on my tongue: the smell of the earth after rain, the scent of a cloud just before it struck with lightning. I tossed the crystal over to River.
“Get this to the unicorns right away. We might yet find where they went.”