Rainbow Dash had heard the pickup line before: “Did it hurt when you fell from Heaven?” But it wasn’t until she’d been sucked into someone else’s brain through a magic geode and spit out of a vortex that she could give her definite answer: Yes. Yes, it did.
Gravity claimed Rainbow Dash with force, pulling her from the sky, straight to the ground.
“Aaugh!” she shouted, crashing stomach-first onto a hard, cold surface. She stayed still, but the needles in her head didn't fade. Holding in a barrel of puke, she scrabbled onto her hands and knees and scanned the area.
Hundreds upon hundreds of bookshelves, each one as tall and wide as CHS, surrounded her. Above her hung the shadowy black sky she’d fallen from; she looked down, and found a perfect reflection of herself in the marble floor.
In the corner of her eye, a hand appeared. “Need some help?”
Rainbow took Sunset’s hand and rose to her feet. “Ugh,” she said, holding her head. “I feel like I just slammed back, like, fifty beers.”
“You haven’t had a sip of booze in your life.”
“Doesn’t mean I don’t know it what feels like,” Rainbow said, turning up her nose. Her skull throbbed at the sudden motion. “Where are we?”
Stepping forward, Sunset gestured to the bookshelves around them. “Welcome to my mind! I guess your idea worked.”
“Your mind is a library?” Rainbow laughed. “Who are you, Twilight?”
Sunset rolled her eyes. “My mind is a lot of things. This is just where you enter—a room containing the contents of every book I’ve ever read. Think of it like a lobby. I’ve read your mind before, you have one too.”
“I doubt mine is as nerdy as this.”
“My mind isn’t nerdy. It’s... sophisticated. Cultured.”
Rainbow snatched a book from one of the shelves and flipped it open. “This is just filled with algebra!”
Sunset pulled it away. “Don’t touch that.”
“Why?” Rainbow raised a brow. “Is it important? Does your brain, like, need math to survive?”
“No, it’s just—” Sunset sighed and put her hands on her hips. “Listen, Rainbow. If you’re gonna go running around my mind with me, then we’ve gotta set some ground rules first. For one: no reading my memories without my permission.”
Under a narrow-eyed glance, Rainbow tried to smile. “Why? You think I’m gonna blab to the whole school or something?”
Sunset didn’t smile back. “Because snooping in someone’s memories is messed up?”
“You look at other people’s memories all the time.”
“Only when they’re evil.”
Rainbow opened her mouth again, but closed it when she realized she had nothing to say. She just wanted to argue more. “Holy hell,” she said, rubbing her forehead. “You were right about the amulet messing with my head.”
“Told you,” Sunset said with a tiny smile. She put the algebra book back on the shelf. “We should try to keep as calm as we can. But seriously, don’t snoop around, okay? My brain, my rules.”
Rainbow ignored the hot flash of annoyance. “Fine. So, where is this monster of yours?” All she saw around her were shelves, stretching out beyond her sight and into darkness.
“I dunno.” Sunset touched her geode. “I can feel its presence, but the Marabunta is designed to be stealthy, to ambush intruders. I doubt it’s just gonna hand itself to us on a silver platter.” She turned to Rainbow. “But considering a foreign body just invaded my mind, I imagine it’s not going to be happy either.”
Rainbow smirked. “I’m foreign? You’re the horse alien.”
“Not what I meant.” Sunset walked off, down a random aisle. “I haven’t totally explored this library, but I think I know the way to the next room. Come with me, and keep your guard up.”
“Aye aye, Captain.” Rainbow followed after, running to catch up.
Sunset’s mind-library went on for miles it seemed, stuffed with books upon books upon books of every shape and size. Just how many books had Sunset read in her life? Rainbow didn’t think that this many books even existed. She enjoyed a good adventure novel now and then, but Sunset’s mind looked like the king of all libraries.
“Y’know,” Rainbow said, “as nerdy as this is, I was expecting it to be a lot weirder. Like, melting clocks and talking animals.”
“Are talking animals really so weird anymore?” Sunset asked with a smile. “But you’d be surprised. Our minds are pretty straightforward, so long as you’re not Pinkie Pie.”
“I was at least expecting to turn into a pony.”
Sunset winked. “Feel free to walk around on all fours if you’d like.”
“Kinky,” said Rainbow, turning Sunset red. “Speaking of kinky: what kind of dark hidden secrets do you have hidden in here?
“I don’t have any hidden secrets.”
“C’mon, everyone’s got a secret. Lemme guess: when no one’s looking, you pick your nose.”
“What? Ew.” Grimacing, Sunset shook her head. “I told you this morning, I don’t keep secrets anymore. But what about you? Are you sure you really aren’t afraid of anything?”
“Of course I’m not. I mean, have you seen me?” Rainbow rolled up her sleeves and flexed, showing off her lean, muscled arms. “How could someone as awesome as me be scared of anything? This monster of yours will be crying for his mommy once I’m through with him.”
Sunset simpered. “Y’know, Dash, I get being confident, but some people might find that bravado of yours a bit obnoxious.”
Rainbow dropped her arms and locked them to her side. “I’m not obnoxious,” she spat, louder than she’d meant.
“I didn’t say you were. I just said that flexing in my face might be.”
“Oh.” Rainbow turned her head away, trying to ignore how badly her face burned. “Well, that’s not either.” She didn’t pay attention to Sunset’s response.
The echo of their voices faded, and silence bore down on them. Rainbow hated places like this, where every word she spoke was sent right back to show how dumb she sounded. She squinted, trying to see the end of the path they walked down, but shadows covered the aisles.
The monster could’ve been hiding around any corner, behind any shelf, waiting for its prey to stumble into its trap. Any second now, it could leap out and snatch them away—would Sunset cast the counterspell before it drove Rainbow insane?
It can’t show me my worst fear if I’ve got no fear. I’m not a baby—I can handle this.
Rainbow steeled her jaw and forced the thought out of her mind. To distract herself, she turned to the books that littered the aisles.
She couldn’t imagine what might be in these books—aside from boring algebra, of course. And if Sunset really didn’t have any secrets, why couldn’t Rainbow read anything? Snooping was only snooping if you were trying to get dirt on someone, not entertain yourself. That’s what Rarity said, anyway.
As they passed into another aisle, Rainbow fell back from Sunset, then reached up and pulled down the biggest, coolest-looking book she saw. Bound in blood-red leather, it looked like it’d come straight out of a vampire flick.
She opened it up to a page in the middle and furrowed her brow. Unintelligible scribblings stared back at her, some bizarre cross between gibberish and gobbledygook. Drawings of horses and skulls filled the margins. She chuckled.
“Hey!” Sunset turned around and frowned. “I thought I said not to look at anything!”
“Sorry, sorry, it’s just—” Rainbow turned the book around, showing Sunset the page she’d opened up to. “This looks like something an emo kid would doodle in their math notebook.”
Sunset went white. She shot towards Rainbow, grabbed the book from her hands, and tossed it back onto a random shelf.
“Whoa, whoa!” Rainbow said, checking her fingers for papercuts. “What was that?”
“Nothing.” Sunset hurried forward. “Just a stupid book.”
“That was not nothing.” Rainbow ran and grabbed her shoulder, twisting her around to see her face. “C’mon. I thought you said you had no secrets?”
Sunset stared, blank faced—then snorted. “It was a book of dark magic. Worse than the Marabunta—the kind that’s made to hurt innocent people.”
“...And you have it memorized?”
“No!” Sunset shouted. She sputtered, then added, “Well, yeah, I do, but that’s just because I have a good memory. You remember pretty much everything you read, technically, you just can’t access—” She stopped and face-palmed. “It’s before I became friends with you girls, okay? When I was evil.” Shaking, she managed to look Rainbow in the eye. “Really.”
“Okay, okay.” Cursing herself for not thinking before she spoke, Rainbow put on a smile and patted Sunset’s back. “Don’t worry about it. I bet you have lots of weird pony stuff in here.” She paused. “And, uh, sorry for snooping, I guess.”
Silent, Sunset nodded.
The floor beneath them shook, sending a few books tumbling to the floor. Sunset and Rainbow grabbed each other as the tremor passed through, and shared a wide-eyed look once it ended.
Rainbow swallowed. “Was that...?”
Sunset took a deep breath. “I think so. That must mean we’re going in the right direction.” Her embarrassment seemingly forgotten, she let go of Rainbow’s jacket and resumed walking. “Come on, we’re not far from the exit.”
Taking one last glance at the book of dark magic, now lying open on the floor, Rainbow followed.
Eventually, they reached the end of the darkened horizon—a marble wall, with a single unmarked door fitted into the middle. Sunset opened it up, and the two walked through. They entered a narrow hallway, each wall dotted with countless doors, just like the one they’d just opened.
Sunset blinked. “We went the wrong way.”
“What?” Rainbow’s whole body wilted. “We’ve been walking for, like, twenty days. And now we have to go back?”
“No, we should be fine.” Sunset headed forward, one hand brushing the wall. “This just isn’t what I was expecting to see. I’ve never been in here before.”
“Well, what’s behind the doors?” Rainbow tried to peer through a keyhole, but just found darkness.
Sunset opened a random door. Her face went red and she slammed it shut again. “I think I know what hall this is now,” she said, backing away.
Rainbow leaned forward. “Yeah?”
For a moment, Sunset kept quiet, glancing between the closed doors. Then, with that same blank face she had taken on about the book, said, “Stay here, don’t open anything. Please. I’m going ahead to look for the Marabunta. There’s a chance it could be hiding behind one of these doors, so—”
“Excuse me?” Rainbow stomped up to Sunset, hands on her hips. “Could you get over this weird snooping phobia you’ve got? I did not get thrown into a magic brain vortex just to sit on my butt. I came here to help you fight!” She pointed to the door Sunset had opened. “And what happened to not keeping secrets? We, like, just went over this!”
“There’s a difference between something being a secret and something being—” Sunset waved her hand around, like she was searching for the words in the air. “—personal. And besides, you’ve got super speed, and this hall echoes like crazy; if I find the Marabunta, I’ll call for you, and you can run and meet me.”
“Can’t I just follow you?”
“I’m probably gonna be opening lots of doors, and I’d rather you not peek in.” Sunset pursed her lips. “Again.”
“Ugggghhhhhh.” Rainbow threw her arms up and banged her fists against a wall. “This is so dumb!”
“Hey, it’s my mind,” Sunset said, hands on hips. “My brain, my rules.”
“I heard you the first time you said that.” Rainbow slid down the wall and groaned. “Fine.”
Sunset nodded and walked off, checking different doors as she went. Rainbow glowered.
Fluttershy sighed.
Rainbow and Sunset—both of whom’s eyes had become like searchlights, blazing with white energy—had been gone for almost an hour now. Ray had fallen asleep just a few minutes later. Fluttershy had no phone service in this part of town, and had forgotten to ask Sunset for the WiFi password.
Already she’d organized all of Sunset’s bookshelves, checked all the outlets to make sure there was no danger of a fire breaking out, and rebuilt her birdhouse. Now she just sat by Sunset’s desk, hands folded in her lap, waiting for her friends to return.
Her eyes wandered around the apartment, searching for something new to clean.
They fell upon Sunset’s jacket, still hanging from another nearby chair.
She knew she couldn’t call for food—no phone service—but still she stood and picked Sunset’s jacket up. “Goodness,” she said, stroking the faux leather. “This is so smooth. No wonder Sunset wears it so much.” She felt the insides, and found they were just as soft as the outside was smooth.
She glanced up at Sunset and Rainbow. Still caught in their trance.
Slipping the jacket on, Fluttershy walked over to Sunset’s mirror. She giggled at her reflection; her pink locks didn’t complement the black leather as well as Sunset’s red-and-orange did, but she still looked quite nice. Hot, even.
Placing her hands on her hips, Fluttershy smirked as hard as she could. “I’m Sunset Shimmer,” she said, trying to imitate her friend’s deeper voice. “I ride motorbikes and fight brain demons. I’m a total bad girl.”
She laughed again, and moved to take off the jacket—but stopped when she noticed Sunset’s walk-in closet, door ajar. She scurried over and peered inside.
She found dozens of leather jackets. Tight, vibrantly colored miniskirts. Stilettos sharp enough to piece steel.
“Oh, my.”
Ten. Minutes.
Rainbow had waited for ten minutes, and Sunset still hadn’t returned. Just how many doors did this hall have? Rainbow was starting to wish that the Marigold would just attack already. Even that would be better than just sitting there, staring at the ceiling.
For the third time since Sunset had left, Rainbow shouted a curse. When the echo faded, flooding her with silence once again, she slumped over onto her side.
She hated this. She hated the quiet, hated that Sunset didn’t trust her, hated that Sunset had left her behind like a piece of trash when all she wanted was to help.
Why was Sunset acting so weird? Why was she treating Rainbow like an idiot?
Maybe she’s got a crush on me.
“Nah.”
Maybe it’s because all I do is make people angry.
Rainbow balled up her fists.
Memories hung in her head: teachers, coaches, former friends, all scolding and yelling at her for no good reason. Reckless, they said. Rude. Selfish. Stupid. We don’t want you here.
She shook the thought off and stood up. “This is stupid.” Probably just Sunset’s geode messing with her emotions again.
“I can help,” she said, walking up to the door Sunset had opened. “And Sunset can get over her dumb snooping obsession.” She turned the knob, threw the door open, and walked inside.
She saw two familiar people. And a familiar couch.
Sprinting back out, she closed the door tight, then swore never to visit Sunset’s apartment again.
As she tried to calm her speeding heart, she picked another door further down the line and entered it.
She found herself standing behind the counter at Sugarcube Corner, next to Mrs. Cake. The store was packed, each and every table filled with chatting customers. And just on the other side of the counter, talking and laughing with Mrs. Cake, stood Sunset.
Yet it wasn’t the Sunset that Rainbow knew. This Sunset was smaller, scrawnier, younger—first year of high school younger.
She shared one last laugh with Mrs. Cake, then placed her order. Once Mrs. Cake walked away, however, Sunset’s smile disappeared, replaced by a snide scowl. She took a tiny glance around the store before snatching two dollar bills out of the tip jar. When Mrs. Cake returned with her food, Sunset’s smile came back on, and she handed the bills over as payment.
“Hey!” Rainbow said. “That’s real low, Sunset.”
If anyone could hear her, they didn’t show it. Sunset waved goodbye and walked out of the shop, humming as she went.
The world faded to black for a moment, then the scene—This must be a memory, I guess.—began to replay. Rainbow stepped back out of the dream and closed the door.
Scratching her chin, Rainbow headed further down the hall. What was the theme here? What did these memories share? Things Sunset was embarrassed about? Ashamed of? Didn’t want anyone to know about?
Cold guilt tugged at Rainbow’s chest. Looking through Sunset’s memories was messed up. She knew that.
But she also knew that Sunset needed help. And she’d never get it with Rainbow just sitting around.
Rainbow headed to the next door.
Deep breaths, Sunset repeated to herself, trying to snuff out the churning in her gut. Deep breaths.
She’d gotten the trick from Twilight, who had long ago taught her the value of a deep, calming breath. And she needed it now more than ever, watching herself berate Flash Sentry.
She’d watched the memory three times over, standing in the corner of her apartment. She remembered the day too well—a Friday night in the middle of May, nearly two years ago.
“Look at me when I’m talking to you,” her younger self said, her words booming through the apartment. Sunset cringed away. If only she could have heard herself back then, heard the absolute evil in her voice. “You’re an hour late. Where were you?”
Flash recoiled too. “I told you, I had band practice.”
“On Thursday nights, you come here and watch TV with me. We’ve been over this.”
“I know we always hang out on Thursday,” Flash said. “But Thunderbass can’t make it to practice tomorrow, so we moved it up to tonight. I texted you—”
The younger Sunset stomped her foot. “I don’t care about your stupid boy band! When I tell you to do something, you do it. Understand?”
Flash stared. “I just think—”
“I asked you a yes-or-no question. This isn’t hard.”
Flash sighed and slumped into the couch. “Yes.”
“Good.” The younger Sunset smiled and sat down, wrapping an arm around her boyfriend. She flicked on the TV and cuddled up close to him. Tracing a finger in circles on his chest, she murmured, “You’re such a sweetie pie.”
The fake sugar in her younger self’s voice was enough to give Sunset food poisoning. Sunset hurried out of the memory, through the open door in the middle of the room that led back into her mindscape. She closed the door and walked on.
“No Marabunta in there,” she said.
By now, Sunset was searching through these awful memories less to find the Marabunta, and more to satisfy her own masochism. She couldn’t stop herself, couldn’t keep from opening the doors and reminding herself how how awful she’d been.
The hallway went on forever. She waded through the memories with slumped shoulders, watching herself disobey Celestia, backstab her classmates, cheat to reach the top.
Barely thirty doors opened, and already Sunset had to stop, leaning against a wall to grit her teeth. Through these doors sat every evil thought she’d ever had. She didn’t need to force herself to relive all that. She couldn’t.
She took another long breath and stood up straight. She was acting like a whiny child—Who cares if I’ve got some regrets? Everyone has regrets. For everyone’s sake, she needed to pull herself together and keep searching. It’s been a year since I became good. These memories can’t change that.
She entered another memory and found herself standing in the CHS cafeteria, one week after her “reformation.” She recognized it by the bags under her younger self’s eyes from the mornings spent rebuilding the school, and from the yellow goop splattered across her shirt.
Her younger self had been eating lunch with all her new friends, chatting away, when she’d spilled applesauce all over herself—and Sunset yelped and cursed, and Rarity and Applejack helped clean it up, but Rainbow and Pinkie laughed and made jokes—Sunset clenched her teeth, her fists, but kept quiet, not wanting to make a scene—but then Fluttershy started giggling, and it sent Sunset over the edge—
With bared teeth, the younger Sunset shot up and towered over Fluttershy. “Oh, ha ha, you rabbit shit-smelling freak!”
—and that sent Rainbow into a frenzy, shouting and swearing right back—and the two almost got into a fight before Applejack pushed them apart—and the younger Sunset stormed off, applesauce still dripping down her skirt, while Fluttershy cried—
Sunset backed out of the memory and shut it tight.
The girls nearly kicked her out of the group for that. It had taken a week for Sunset to approach them again.
Sunset was stressed out and sensitive back then. It didn’t take much to set her off. But she'd apologized to them, and they’d apologized to her, and everything was fine. Everything.
The next door sent her backstage at the Battle of the Bands, months later, when she’d gotten into an argument with Trixie and nearly punched her out. She still remembered fantasizing about it for minutes after, wishing she could have slugged that awful smile right off Trixie’s face.
And then the next door, sending her out into a half-destroyed soccer field, right in the middle of the Friendship Games. Shaking, she watched her younger self—This was only six months ago.—scream at Twilight with the same venom she’d once aimed at Flash Sentry. She watched Twilight run away, sobbing.
She’d never apologized for that, had she? She’d just let it pass, assumed Twilight had forgotten about it, assumed Twilight had forgiven her.
Her chest tightened as she stepped back into the hall. A year since the Fall Formal, and still she had such a stupidly short temper, still she got mad about the tiniest things. A year later, and she was still just one step away from reverting into that awful, demanding brat who just wanted to hurt everyone.
She tried to take another deep breath, but couldn’t hold it. Head down, she trudged back to Rainbow Dash.
Six doors later, and the most exciting memory Rainbow had found was the first time Sunset tried on a bra. Either horses had their boobs in a way different place, or Sunset had thought it was a fanny pack.
Snickering, she scurried back out into the hall. Some part of her told her to stop; she knew she had no right to see Sunset’s past like this, and that small wriggle of guilt still lingered. Sunset would be pissed if she found out.
But another part told her to go on. Who cared if Sunset got mad? Rainbow was searching for the monster to help Sunset, not humiliate her. And besides, Rainbow would never tell anyone about what she saw. Sunset’s secrets—most of which were pretty funny—were safe with Rainbow.
Rainbow picked another door. This one opened up to the courtyard in front of Canterlot High, way early in the morning. The school’s entire entranceway was missing, ripped from the foundation, which meant that this had to be some time soon after the Fall Formal.
It didn’t take long to find Sunset, kneeling in front of the entrance steps, spreading cement between concrete blocks. Rainbow ran to get a better look, but skidded to a stop when she caught Sunset’s voice.
“Screw this,” Sunset spat at the ground, an awful glare stretched across her face. “Screw this, screw this, screw this. Screw everyone. Screw those stupid girls.”
Rainbow stopped just behind Sunset, and recoiled when she jumped up, screamed, and threw her cement trowel across the courtyard. “Ugh, I never should have agreed to become one of the stupid good guys! I should have killed them all when I had the chance!”
With bloodshot eyes, the past Sunset turned around and gazed right through Rainbow, to the horse statue in the center of the yard. “These girls think they can change me, make me one of them. They can’t. As soon as I get the chance, they’re dead.”
Rainbow Dash stared, a chill racing down her back.
Then came Sunset’s voice again, but this time from behind her: “What the hell, Rainbow?”
She turned around just in time for Sunset—the real Sunset—to grab her by the collar and drag her out of the memory, back into the hallway. Once the door closed, Rainbow shook her off. “Hey, watch it!”
“I told you not to look at anything!” Sunset said, jabbing a finger too close to Rainbow’s face.
The guilt washed over Rainbow. Sputtering, she hit Sunset’s hand away. “So what, I’m not even allowed to see now? You want me to rip out my eyes?”
“You’re not funny, Dash.” Sunset sneered. “I’m being serious.”
“I was just—” Seeing Sunset’s glare, Rainbow looked away. “Fine, I’m sorry. I won’t do it anymore.”
“That’s what you said when you looked in the book. An apology only works if you’re actually sorry.”
“I’m here to help you!” Rainbow shouted, voice cracking. Who was Sunset to decide if she was really sorry or not? “Why don’t you trust me?”
“Because you keep looking at stuff you’re not supposed to! Even when I tell you specifically not to!” Sunset growled and shook her head. “You’re so annoying. You never listen!”
Rainbow fell back a step—then saw red. She grinned. “Oh, I’m annoying, huh? Why? Because I found out about your plan?”
Sunset stared. “What?”
“You know what I mean. Your plan to kill us all?” Rainbow said, forcing a laugh. Her head buzzed. She didn’t mean this, she knew Sunset would never hurt them, Rainbow just wanted to hurt her. “Maybe you brought me here just to kill me!”
“No! No.” Sunset looked ready to beat Rainbow to death right there. She advanced on her. “You don’t get to turn this around on me. You always assume the worst about me, about everyone! You’re awful!”
Rainbow threw out her arms and shoved Sunset. “You’re awful!”
Sunset stumbled away a few steps, but then swore and shoved Rainbow right back.
Mind wild, Rainbow balled up her fists and reared back.
A brain-shaking roar ripped through the hallway.
From the shadows, a mass of red goo, like bloody gelatin, spilled down the hall. It moved with the speed of an airliner, headed straight for the girls.
Sunset gasped. “It’s the—! Crap!”
“Quick!” Rainbow said, shaking Sunset’s shoulder. “Do the spell!”
“Uh, um—” Sunset tapped the side of her head. “Beldurra suntsi—”
The Marabunta surrounded them, climbing up the walls, flowing hot through their shoes. It let out another roar and rocketed towards Sunset.
“Watch out!” Rainbow screamed, and knocked her out of the way.
The monster crashed into Rainbow, crushing her against the floor. She couldn’t breathe couldn’t move couldn’t think as it enveloped her. All she felt was a thousand burning insects crawling across her skin.
She flailed her arms in every direction, tearing through the Marabunta until she reached fresh air. Head now free, she took a gasping breath, found Sunset—sprawled across the floor, trembling—and managed to shout “Help!” before the goo wrapped around her face and pulled her down again.
She fought for a few moments more, but couldn’t find air again. Her fists unclenched, her muscles relaxed. Dark.