After Pinkie Pie thwarts her efforts to create an army of humans for her invasion, Sunset Shimmer plots her next move while she serves time in an Equestrian prison. (A Petriculture Story.)
This was not how things were supposed to go for Sunset Shimmer. Thanks to Pinkie Pie and her crew of interlopers, instead of returning to Equestria at the head of a conquering army, she was now serving time in the Ft. Featherworth Prison, with little prospect of any sort of parole thanks to her reputation. However, as far down as she is, she is most definitely not out: just before their return to Equestria, Pinkie and her friends let slip just enough information while she was in earshot to allow her to start forming a plan.
And Sunset Shimmer is never more dangerous than when she has a plan.
This story is a continuation of the plotline begun in The Petriculture Cycle. The first story can be found here, and the TV Tropes page can be found here.
Things had not been going Sunset’s way recently, as evidenced by the fact that, rather than leading an army of human thralls into Equestria, she had returned to her homeland a captive and was now facing the prospect of spending the rest of her life in prison. She had been so close to victory, only to have it snatched away by the machinations of Pinkie Pie and her crew of logic-bending miscreants. Yet for some bizarre reason, Celestia had decided not to simply put her former student out of her misery and lock her away in Tartarus, but rather had allowed her to be kept in a standard penitentiary. Sunset still had no idea if this was to make it easier to keep an eye on her, or if the Princess genuinely believed that she might reform. It hardly mattered, though; either way, Sunset was determined to show to Celestia that foolishness had gotten the better of her.
It hadn’t been all that difficult for her to come up with the beginnings of a plan to counter Pinkie Pie and her ilk; the sun had hardly set on her first night in Ft. Featherworth Prison by the time she’d determined that the only way to deal with a thoughtform was to create one of her own. Granted, she had no idea what that entailed, or how she could muster up the necessary magic to pull it off while wearing a magic inhibitor, but she wasn’t particularly worried about that: as far as she was concerned, there was no problem that couldn’t be solved, provided she had the opportunity to put her mind to devising a solution—and if there was any advantage to be had from incarceration, it was an abundance of time to think. She’d gone to sleep that evening feeling relatively optimistic, intent on pursuing her goals the next morning.
However, when morning came, she faced an unexpected distraction: her fellow inmates. Perhaps it was because she’d initially expected to be sent to Tartarus, or maybe it was because she’d been given a cell with only one bed, but Sunset was surprised to learn that her sentence would not be spent in isolation: though most of her time would be spent in her cell, she ate her meals in the cafeteria, and her recreation time in the prison yard was in the presence of dozens of other mares, some of whom were arguably as dangerous as she was.
“You’re the one who was Celestia’s student, aren’t you?”
Sunset looked up from the spot of ground where she’d been staring for the past few minutes and saw a grey earth pony mare staring at her. From the scowl on her face, it seemed unlikely that the question was mere small talk.
“What of it?” Sunset asked.
“They say you’re in here for murder and brainwashing.”
Technically, Sunset had only been charged with multiple accounts of first-degree ponyslaughter and abuse of magic, but she didn’t see much point in correcting her fellow inmate. After all, her lawyer had explained that prosecutors had considered pursuing more serious charges, but decided to try her for lesser crimes that were easier to prove in order to secure a conviction. The public at large, however, didn’t really make much of a distinction, at least in her case. Sunset looked around and saw another group of inmates standing a ways off, watching the conversation. She sighed. “Let me guess; you’re here to make sure I know my place in the pecking order.”
This, apparently, was not what her new acquaintance wanted to hear. “Don’t get smart with me, Ms. Know-it-all. Things are different on the inside, and that ring means you can’t hide behind your magic.” She ended by gesturing towards the iron magic inhibitor that fit snugly around the base of Sunset’s horn.
Sunset quickly sized up her potential opponent. Fortunately for her, ponies (unlike the humans she’d spent the past few years with) had no social norms associating nudity with sex, which meant that nopony apart from the guards was allowed to wear clothing, which could potentially conceal weapons or contraband. Thus, she could see that the other mare wasn’t carrying a shiv, but still, the hooves of an earth pony were still quite dangerous. She glanced in the direction of the nearest guard, whose attention was elsewhere at the moment. “I don’t intend to get in anypony’s way.”
“Bitch, it doesn’t matter what you intend to do; what you’re going to do is give me the respect I deserve!”
Sunset had no idea what that entailed, but she wanted no part of it. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that the outburst had drawn the attention of the guard, and she decided on a plan of action. It was a risk, to be sure, but she’d managed to fool the Nightmare with similar tactics, and this nopony was no Nightmare. Instead of responding, Sunset turned her back on her foe, and started to walk away.
“You think you can treat me like that, you little shit?! I’ll make you respect me, you entitled bitch!”
Based on her opponent’s earlier comments about “hiding behind her magic,” Sunset had deduced that the earth pony assumed that she, like many unicorns, was so reliant on her magic that she would be a pushover when deprived of it. However, Sunset had spent a very long time in the human world, and as a result, she was used to using her magic as a last resort. As her opponent started to move towards her, she glanced over at the guard, who was now moving towards them to break up the fight. Sunset smiled to herself. Good. She knows who started it. She listened for the hoofbeats of her opponent, and as soon as she was fairly certain that she was in range, Sunset bucked her rear legs as hard as she could behind her, smacking her foe squarely in the jaw.
As it turned out, Sunset didn’t get off as scot-free as she’d hoped, but for the most part her plan had worked as intended. Because it was her first offense, and because the guard who’d witnessed the interaction believed that she had acted in self-defense, Sunset’s punishment was in the form of reduced recreation time for the next month rather than solitary confinement, and even that was justified as an attempt to protect her from her assailant’s allies. It wasn’t really necessary, though; the other inmates gave her a wide berth afterwards, now that it was abundantly clear that she was as adept at using her hooves as she was with her horn. (A few lost teeth, it seemed, could be very persuasive under the right circumstances.)
Nonetheless, even after she’d more or less settled into a routine, it hadn’t taken long for Sunset’s plan to run into difficulties. It seemed that there was more to creating an imaginary friend than simply lumping together a conglomeration of skills, physical attributes, and personality traits. It was easy enough to come up with a creature who could overwhelm Pinkie and her allies through sheer magical power, but every one of these early drafts ran into a huge problem: a being capable enough to help her achieve her goals in this way might later conclude that Sunset was unnecessary to meet those goals. Even more distressingly, once freed from the moorings of her own mind, there was a strong possibility that a taste of power would cause them to forget that the whole point of their efforts was not acquire power for its own sake, but to replace the weak emotionalism of Celestia and her followers with a more pragmatic regime.
The “obvious” solution of making her new associate a devoted simpleton was just as problematic. After all, was it not the weak-minded who were the most susceptible to the very emotionalism that had infected the halls of power in Canterlot? Besides, even if her opponents didn’t try to shift their allegiance, there was an even bigger problem: dullards were, by their very nature, unspeakably dull. Between the sparse details on thoughtforms she could get her hooves on in prison and what she’d overheard during the conversation between the human Twilight Sparkle and Surprise Party before her return to Equestria, it was clear that a creator would have to spend considerable time fleshing out the thoughtform’s personality. “Boring” was simply not an option, and to Sunset’s mind, few things were more boring than idiots.
For weeks, she paced her cell every night, wracking her brain as she tried to use every trick of logical gymnastics she could think of to create an adequate loophole, but nothing seemed to work. For a time, she thought that adding some sort of weakness would be the key, but she soon realized that this would only cause the resulting thoughtform to resent her, leading to an all-but-inevitable betrayal. Even if the weakness was kept secret from them, its mere existence would create a potential opening for Sunset’s enemies, who might conceivably stumble upon it by accident. No, there was far too much at stake for that sort of risk.
Perhaps the solution was to create a being whose power exceeded her own, and then act as an advisor after instilling it with her own values. After all, was all this effort not ultimately for the benefit of Equestria? Surely it didn’t matter who restored sanity to the halls of Canterlot, so long as the restoration took place. And yet... there was always the risk of failing to properly instill the values of pragmatism in her protege, and Sunset did not particularly like the idea of having to face off against an absurdly strong foe of her own creation who had misunderstood her philosophy. But more than that... it just didn’t feel right.
That, ultimately, was the real problem with her first batch of ideas: none of them felt like the sort of pony/griffon/dragon/whatever that Sunset could form a genuine personal connection with, and even though she had no hard evidence to prove it, she felt almost certain that the bond between creator and creation had to be particularly strong—otherwise, Equestria would have run amok with thoughtforms eons ago. Given her stated goals of ridding Equestria of Celestia’s emotionalism, Sunset couldn’t help but be aware of the irony, but nonetheless it still seemed that she would have to indulge in some minor hypocrisy for the greater good. Whatever the end result, her new associate would have to be someone she actually liked.
Fortunately for her, once she finally accepted this fact, it almost immediately led to an epiphany: if the point of the exercise was to create an an imaginary friend, then the idea of making a subordinate or a superior was patently ridiculous. Rather, the sensible approach was to create a being who was her equal.
This of course, posed its own problems. Her first instinct upon deciding to create an “equal” was to create someone with a similar skill set, but it only took a few seconds to realize that this was inadequate. Neuromancy wasn’t the sort of thing that became more effective with the application of more magical power—if anything, its effectiveness was subject to diminishing returns, because the more magic one put behind a mind control spell, the easier it was for outsiders to realize that something abnormal was going on. And besides, if mind control was enough to take over Equestria, somepony or something would have done it centuries ago. No, what Sunset needed was a being whose ability complemented her own.
It was a nice guideline, to be sure, but actually putting it into practice was a fairly tricky matter. Sunset couldn’t think of an existing magical specialization that would meet her needs—at least, not without checking out multiple volumes on magical theory from the prison library, which, given her particular background, ran the risk of attracting additional scrutiny from her wardens. That meant that she faced the daunting challenge of creating an entirely fictional field of magic for her imaginary friend to excel in, and that sort of open-endedness left her feeling like a writer staring at a blank page.
Her “writer’s block” (for lack of a better term) must have lasted a solid two weeks, as she dreamt up option after underwhelming option while alone in her cell. The time she was allowed outside of her cell rarely allowed her the luxury of speculation; because she had racked up so much infamy, her fellow inmates always made sure to have somepony from their clique watching her, and the scowls that inevitably formed on their faces as they watched her pacing around and thinking silently to herself quickly became unnerving (and in the rare event that Sunset did speak out loud, she got the distinct impression that they thought she was a nutcase). Fortunately, nopony seemed to think she needed to be "put in her place" anymore, but she still preferred to keep her speculation to the confines of her cell.
Thus, as she sat in the cafeteria idly stirring a bowl of daisy and tofu soup, the last thing she was expecting to get was any sort of inspiration. Sunset hadn’t exactly been expecting haute cuisine from prison food, but this stuff... well, she couldn’t exactly call it bad—everything was properly cooked and it was clear that she was getting all of the nutrients she needed—but by Celestia’s mane was it ever bland. It was almost as if it had been prepared by somepony whose cutie mark had been altered either in a misguided effort to give them competence as a cook, or to remove their unique talent. But that was ridiculous; if there was any sort of magic that could tamper with cutie marks, the pony that wielded it would be...
“...incredibly powerful,” Sunset mumbled to herself as her eyes widened. Maybe prison food isn’t so bad after all.
The more Sunset considered her idea, the better it sounded; after all, if she couldn’t change what a pony was willing to do (and given that neuromancy was relatively easy to resist when the subject recognized that it was being used, that was a very real possibility), then the next best thing would be to alter what a pony was capable of doing in the first place. Granted, Sunset also had no idea how that could even be possible within the framework of magical theory, but that didn’t seem to be a particularly big obstacle. Still, Sunset liked plausible explanations for unusual phenomena, so she decided that the best way to avert her own bewilderment was to make her new friend smart enough to form her own theories about her abilities once there was some real-world empirical data to work with.
It was this idea of an intellectual equal who took a different approach to understanding the world that really started to put everything into focus. Anypony (and it was around this time that Sunset started to assume that her imaginary friend was indeed a pony) who could wrap their head around the sort of strange magic that could manipulate cutie marks would have to be the sort of pony who studied and practiced magic for its own sake. As Sunset herself had tended to lean towards the “applied magic” approach, she’d often dismissed this sort of wonkiness in the past, but upon further reflection, being able to work with a “theoretical magician” who shared her goals could potentially complement her personality quite nicely. Where Sunset had grown used to solving problems without resorting to magic while in the human world, her friend would be eager to push the limits of magic to discover new solutions to old problems.
As her friend’s personality became increasingly refined, the aesthetic details began to slide into place with stunning ease. Some of these details were logical—of course a magical theory wonk was going to be a unicorn—but others were just things that “felt” right, like the decision to make her friend a mare. It wasn’t as though she had some sort of problem working with a stallion, but since Sunset couldn’t see how her friend’s gender would made a lick of difference when the time came to confront their foes, there was no reason not to follow her whimsy.
This wasn’t to say that her initial whims were always easy to swallow. Her first idea for a coat color was for a shade of lilac, which was rather unnerving, being somewhat reminiscent of Twilight Sparkle’s coat (though that was more of a lavender, now that she thought of it), but Sunset eventually decided to roll with it. After all, if Twilight Sparkle was now Celestia’s chosen protégé, why not borrow a few incidental traits for her own? It would only serve to make the knife twisting all the more satisfying in the end.
Sunset spent quite a bit of time thinking up her friend’s cutie mark—given her friend’s abilities, a common cutie mark like an hourglass or a random bit of musical notation simply wouldn’t do. Eventually, Sunset decided to begin with a star, as astronomical phenomenon in cutie marks were strongly associated with magical aptitude, but clearly there needed to be more—some way to represent her friend’s ability to alter cutie marks in her own cutie mark. Eventually, Sunset decided that the star would be trailed by swaths of greyish-green, to represent how her magic could be used to return a pony to a “blank slate” which could then be refashioned at will. Sunset actually felt quite pleased with herself upon finishing this bit of artistic indulgence, to the point where she briefly considered sketching out the cutie mark for later reference, though she eventually decided against this, mostly to avoid drawing the attention of others.
It was around this time that Sunset and her friend started having conversations inside her head. Oddly enough, she couldn’t actually remember when these conversations started; by the time her friend’s personality had developed to the point where Sunset could imagine having conversations with her, it felt like they’d already been conversing for weeks.
“It’s probably because I’m basically an extension of your personality,” her friend said. “Since you can guess how I’d probably respond to any issue you could bring up, there was no need to actually imagine me saying things like you’re doing right now.”
Sunset nodded her head as she sat quietly in her cell. Technically, she was as alone as ever, but right now, it felt like she could almost see her friend sitting beside her. “That sounds reasonable enough. Do you like the voice I picked out for you, by the way?”
“I think it’s delightful,” her friend replied. “I can’t wait to hear it for real.”
“Me, too...” Sunset’s thoughts started drifting as topic of her friends manifestation came up. Sure, she was fairly certain that she’d taken the route with the strongest safeguards against outside interference, but still...
“Look, if you’re so worried about me falling for Celestia’s persuasions, why don’t you just explain to me why her point of view is wrong?”
“Oh, come on,” Sunset silently replied. “You’re still in my head. It should be obvious.”
“It should, but clearly it isn’t, or you wouldn’t be so worried about it. Look, you’ve been using this vague idea of ‘emotionalism’ to describe Celestia’s way of thinking, but you’ve never actually come up with a concrete definition of ‘emotionalism’ and why it’s bad. I mean, if you had, I’d already know it, right?”
Sunset had to admit that her friend had a point. “Okay, I suppose what I’ve been calling ‘emotionalism’ is in reference to Celestia’s tendency to let her emotions get in the way of taking the most pragmatic course of action. The most obvious example is her sister—even though Nightmare Moon had obviously demonstrated that she was a threat, Celestia’s first thought was to banish her to the moon instead of trying to destroy her. Now, I could accept that solution, but only if Celestia had good reason to think that destruction wasn’t an option. However, when I brought up the topic to her as a student, she seemed shocked that I would even bring up the idea and claimed that the thought had never once crossed her mind. Clearly, she was letting filial emotions get in the way of sensible policies.”
“But... hasn’t that choice worked out for her?” her friend asked.
“Aren’t you supposed to be on my side?”
“Hey, I’m only trying to anticipate the other side’s counterarguments. Isn’t that what’s worrying you?”
“Point taken. In any case, how things turned out is irrelevant; the problem is that Celestia took an unnecessary risk—one that nearly cost her everything. Think about it: her plan hinged on a socially awkward nerd somehow managing to form five friendships in the space of a day or so, and also assuming that said nerd could find the Elements of Harmony in that same period of time. And even when that part was out of the way, the whole thing still nearly failed at the end! It would be one thing if that had been Celestia’s only option, but she didn’t even bother investigating to see if there were other options! It’s sheer insanity! And to top it all off, Luna didn’t even need to face the consequences of her actions.”
“Wasn’t her first option to have you do the befriending?”
“In case you didn’t notice, I am also a socially awkward nerd, or at least I was until my time in the human world forced me to develop some actual charisma to supplement my skills at neuromancy. The point is, Celestia is so attached to meaningless platitudes like ‘the magic of friendship’ that she ends up repeatedly risking the welfare of her subjects.”
“Okay, I think I get your point, but what if Celestia claims that Luna’s separation from the Nightmare has made her trustworthy?”
“Celestia forgave the Nightmare, too! Clearly, anypony with a half-decent poker face can tug at her heartstrings and get her to dispense some forgiveness. I mean, if Luna isn’t to blame for Nightmare Moon, and the Nightmare isn’t to blame, then whose fault is it? If this this isn’t proof that her sentimentality is dangerous, I don’t know what is.”
“Uh, well, if that guy who called himself ‘Discord’ is really that Discord...”
At this, Sunset jumped to her hooves and started pacing her cell. “Great Tirek’s ghost! I can’t believe that hadn’t occurred to me before now! I don’t know too many details about Discord, but when I asked Celestia about him during my first tour of the sculpture garden, all she told me was that he had betrayed their friendship and brought great distress to ‘her little ponies’—and my own later research proved that last part was a massive understatement. If she’s willing to let bygones be bygones with him... well, I’d say she hasn’t simply gone soft: she’s become completely delusional.”
“But... aren’t you benefitting from her emotionalism right now? Even though you rejected Celestia’s offer of clemency, you’re still being given a chance to reform. Did you really want her to throw you in Tartarus—or worse?”
“Well, I might not enjoy it, but at least I wouldn’t be doubting Celestia’s leadership abilities. If she’s willing to take such extreme liberties with an obvious security risk like me, who knows what will happen when somepony who actually seems trustworthy makes a power grab?”
“Okay, so what are you hoping to accomplish, then?”
“Well, obviously Celestia can’t be permitted to continue wielding real power, but the best way to bring that about still eludes me. For one thing, at the moment, the obvious successor is Luna, and if we assume that she has legitimately reformed—which is still a mighty tall assumption—she’s probably more likely to dole out reckless second chances, based on her own personal experience. In fact, I think we can safely say that Celestia’s influence has tainted all of the ponies in her circle.”
“So you think you should replace them?”
Sunset paused for a few moments before responding. “No... I don’t think I could effectively rule Equestria with my public image in ruins. You, on the other hoof...”
“You want to install me as Princess of Equestria? Maybe you should give me some wings so I look the part.”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves; at this point, there’s no reason to hitch ourselves to any particular course of action. Our primary concern is to ensure that none of Celestia’s inner circle is able to wield political power. There are multiple ways to do that, and not all of them involve removing Celestia from her throne. Once I’m out of this place, we can take stock of our options and choose the best one.”
Her friend smiled. “Oh, of course. We’re going to handle this pragmatically. Well, at the very least, you’re setting an excellent example.”
“Thank you.”
As it happened, this conversation did indeed reassure Sunset that her friend really would understand what was at stake. There was just one final sticking point—her name. Even though the remarks that Sunset had overheard from Surprise Party indicated that thoughtforms generally chose their own names upon manifestation, her friend still needed an interim name for the time being, if only to make conversation less awkward. However, none of the names Sunset came up with “felt” right. More specifically, they all felt like aliases she would create for herself—none of them felt right when attached to her friend.
So, she decided to break with the apparent convention. “The way I see it, if I’ve developed your personality to the point where you can successfully manifest in the real world, then there’s no reason to wait until you appear before letting you choose a name for yourself.”
“But you’re still controlling me... are you sure it would count?”
Sunset, however, was unconcerned. “If it doesn’t, then you can change your mind when you actually show up.”
“I suppose that’s true. Hmm... let me think...”
Sunset sat back on her haunches, closing her eyes staying as silent as possible in order ensure that she was fully “in character” as her friend at this moment. After all, this had to be her choice, and that meant that it had to be insulated from Sunset’s usual pragmatics and aesthetics as much as possible.
The lilac mare ran a hoof through her purple mane as she paced around the corners of Sunset’s mind. “Alright... I’m essentially an extension of your personality, though I approach things from a slightly different perspective. Therefore, I think my name should be based on yours. Not that I intend to pick something silly like Sunset Shimmer Jr., but I think that I can use the concepts in your name as a starting point. Let’s see... your cutie mark depicts the sun, while mine has a star... and a ‘shimmer’ is a basically flickering light.
“So, if you’re Sunset Shimmer, then I can be called... Starlight Glimmer.” She paused. “Is the rhyming too cheesy?”
Sunset smiled. “It doesn’t matter. Starlight Glimmer is the name you picked, and I think it’s perfect.”
As if creating a suitable imaginary friend hadn’t been challenging enough, Sunset still had two more obstacles before her. First, she had to devise some method of escaping from Ft. Featherworth, and then, once she was on the run and (presumably) safely isolated, she had to figure out how to manifest Starlight Glimmer into reality. Obviously, the ideal plan would involve an alliance with some of her fellow inmates, but thanks to her altercation in her first week, the other prisoners were, at best, suspicious of her, and at worst, outright hostile. There was no telling who would squeal on her if she approached them for assistance. Getting help from outside was a similar non-starter. Sunset had burned quite a few bridges when she first fled from Equestria, and her widely publicized trial had likely incinerated the few that remained. Even if there was somepony willing to help her, she had no way to ask, as she was certain that any sort of communication would be carefully monitored. In other words, Sunset was on her own.
The first notion that came to her was to provoke a prison riot and escape in the confusion. Granted, this would only be a partial solution, as Ft. Featherworth had numerous passive security measures, such as automatic locks on many of the doors, strategically placed canisters that sprayed out some sort of crowd control gas (Sunset guessed that it was vaporized sleeping potion, but she wasn’t too keen to find out), and of course, the very big walls that surrounded the facility, topped by netting made of magically reinforced cirrus clouds designed to keep pegasus inmates from simply flying out of the yard. Thus, with the magic inhibitor on Sunset’s horn, simple physical barriers such as these were actually quite formidable.
Still, such barriers could be overcome, at least in theory, provided that Sunset maintained her physical conditioning. It would simply be a matter of waiting for the right opportunity. Of course, in a maximum security facility like this, naturally occurring opportunities were few and far between, so, in addition to analyzing the prison’s defenses for weaknesses, Sunset also began to consider various means of creating opportunities of her own. The first possibility that came to mind was distraction: after all, there was a limited number of guards on duty at any given time, and pulling their attention in multiple directions could create the opening she needed.
Her first idea, therefore, was to instigate a prison riot. It didn’t take Sunset long to realize that this was unlikely to serve her interests, though. The major downside of the lack of harassment she received from her fellow inmates was a complete and utter lack of influence among them, which meant that she lacked the clout needed to instigate a riot while staying on the sidelines; if she wanted to start something, she’d have to do it herself, which would put her at the center of attention from the very start, even if she managed to avoid serious injury in the initial scuffle. What was more, failure after starting a riot would almost certainly mean increased levels of scrutiny afterwards, making escape exponentially more difficult. No, she eventually decided, raising a ruckus should be my last resort.
Thus, she moved on to her next idea: tunneling out. Granted, this would take a considerable amount of time without magic, but if there was anything that Sunset had in abundance, it was time. However, even when ignoring that factor, this approach had its drawbacks. First and foremost, Sunset would need to keep her little side project secret for its entire duration, and the regular cell inspections meant that any escape would either need to be very well hidden, or it would have to originate from somewhere else in the facility, and there weren’t many places other than her cell where Sunset could get any degree of privacy for very long. She briefly considered trying to pry a grate off of a ventilation duct near the ceiling of her cell to allow her access to the grounds, but the actual air ducts that ran throughout the prison didn’t appear to be intended to support the weight of a pony—indeed, there was a good chance that they were designed to be relatively flimsy precisely for that reason.
She might have still considered it, were it not for an incident in late summer when a squirrel got stuck in the ventilation system. The racket that the little critter managed to make as it ran around looking for an exit kept Sunset (and most of the other inmates) awake for an entire night. Sunset could only conclude that even if the ducts could support her weight, there was no way she could move around them and avoid detection.
Still, having no better ideas, Sunset began devising a tool for digging, if only so she’d have something ready if inspiration did strike. As far as plans went, it didn’t exactly inspire any confidence, but it was better than nothing. After thoroughly examining her cell, she decided that the best hiding place would be within her mattress, which meant that before getting started producing a chisel, she’d need some means of sewing up her mattress in case guards decided to inspect it. It was as she was trying to puzzle out the best way to acquire or fabricate a needle that a third option occurred to her.
“You know, if I were you—and technically, I still am—I’d take care of that magic inhibitor before trying to escape.”
“Well, Starlight, that certainly would be in-character for you,” Sunset admitted. “After all, being able to use magic would render all of my other obstacles foal’s play. But given that another pony has attached this ring to the base of my horn with their own magic, I doubt it will come off physically until the spell has had time to wear away on its own, and that won’t be happening until after I escape. It’s not like the unicorn who recharges the spell is going to forget to do her job.”
“She might not forget to do her job, but that doesn’t mean she’ll always do it well. The definition of complacency is doing the same thing over and over and expecting exactly the same result.”
“Cute. Did you come up with that on your own?”
“Well, technically, you did, but in this context, that doesn’t matter. The point is that if you continue to be a model prisoner, eventually, the unicorn who resets the binding on your inhibitor is going to get sloppy. After all, deep down, everypony wants to believe you can ‘reform,’ right? And a pony who is changing her ways is less of a threat, isn’t she?”
Sunset had to concede this point. “Okay, so they’re going to mess up sooner or later. How exactly do I take advantage of that?”
“How should I know? You only just came up with the idea that it might be possible a few seconds ago. But I bet if you think about the problem the way I would, you’ll come up with something.”
According to the personality she’d established, this meant seriously considering ways to use magic to bypass a system specifically designed to restrict it, but Sunset figured that it couldn’t hurt. After all, she still had the backup plan of (somehow) digging her way out. At first, she didn’t know where to start her speculations, but she soon realized that the basic magical theory of how inhibitors work were considered public knowledge and were thus available from the prison library, even if the specific spells were kept confidential. In essence, there were two spells: one that prevented the wearer from manifesting a magical aura around their horn, and another that prevented the ring from being pulled off or otherwise removed through physical force.
Fortunately for Sunset, she soon realized that this system had a glaring oversight: internal casting. It was fairly common knowledge among scholars that it was possible for ponies to cast magic on themselves without producing a magical aura—indeed, pegasi and earth ponies used this method almost exclusively. However, it was uncommon among unicorns, who generally preferred to cast magic on themselves externally, as the process was identical to all of the other spells they cast on a regular basis. As a result, magic inhibitors offered no obstacle to internal magic, if only because nearly all forms of internal magic were useless to a unicorn making an escape attempt. Or, to put it in simpler terms, the Equestrian penal system had overlooked shapeshifting.
To be fair, such an oversight was in some respects understandable. Though the art of shapeshifting was theoretically possible for any being with significant magical reserves, it was considerably less intuitive than the magic earth ponies used to coax abundant crops from the ground, or the weather manipulation magic of pegasi. Meanwhile, unicorns tended to find it much easier to cast glamours to disguise themselves when they needed to alter their appearance; it was far more practical than devoting oneself to learning the ins and outs of a completely unfamiliar aspect of magical theory. That said, Sunset had difficulty believing that she was the first unicorn to come up with the idea of shapeshifting out from under a magic inhibitor, so her first task was to figure out what was keeping all the other unicorns in Ft. Featherworth from attempting this themselves.
A few hours in the prison library revealed this obstacle to be the restriction of information. Granted, Sunset hadn’t exactly expected anything with a title like Shapeshifting for Morons any more than she would have expected manuals on crafting a shiv, but there were chunks of standard reference works that had been redacted with black markers to avoid providing any information on shapeshifting beyond occasionally admitting that it was possible. Presumably, the idea was to deny inmates access to the theoretical grounding that would allow for effective experimentation. Sunset briefly wondered if this had the makings of a potential civil liberties lawsuit, but she decided against it. After all, even if she could find a sympathetic lawyer who could actually win, it would still mean revealing her intentions, which would only result in extra scrutiny.
Besides, unlike most ponies, she actually did have a place to start from, because she’d already shapeshifted herself on multiple occasions. How else could anypony describe the transition between her human and equine forms? Even if she didn’t quite know why the transformation occurred, Sunset could easily recall what the experience felt like—the sensations of pulling, pushing, and twisting, of expansion and contraction, of dissipation and materialization. Granted, it was hopelessly complex, but the mirror had been changing her species. If she was to rid herself of the inhibitor, all she’d need have to do would be to shift from unicorn to earth pony, and the metal ring would simply fall off harmlessly.
“See? There’s no problem that magic can’t solve!”
“It’s a potential solution; I’ll grant you that,” Sunset responded, “but that means it’s time to look for potential problems, and I can spot a big one right away: I have no idea how to cast magic internally in the first place.”
“That’s why waiting for the guards to screw up is important. I’m willing to bet that if you can manifest even a fraction of your aura beneath the inhibitor, that will be enough to kickstart the process. After all, the hardest part of learning to manipulate magic in the first place is producing an aura.”
“Shapeshifting shouldn’t actually require an aura.”
“Maybe not, but I bet it’s easier when conditions are similar to normal spells, and that includes making magic glowy stuff, even if it’s just a miniscule amount underneath an inhibitor ring.”
Sunset considered this. “I suppose you have a point... but it still won’t be easy.”
“I never said it would be easy. Just that it would be possible.”
“True, but the very difficulty might create another complication. Remember, from what little we overheard, imaginary friends appear to manifest in the real world accompanying a surge of magical energy. That could cause huge problems if you appear in reality too early, especially since it seems I’m likely to forget about you until you have a chance to remind me.”
“Yeah, but that also means you’ll have a pony on the outside to help you—and one to whom you’ve given considerable magical abilities at that.”
“But what if you don’t appear on the outside? What if you’re inside the prison grounds?”
“Well, then I guess I’ll have to start helping you right away, won’t I?”
At the very least, one thing was clear: if Sunset wanted to deal with the inhibitor on her horn, she needed to figure out exactly what it was doing, and since the lack of information prevented her from learning from others, she would need to turn to experience as her teacher. It didn’t take long to figure out the most sensible way to do that; indeed, the fact that it had taken so long for Sunset to even seriously consider the possibility of trying to cast a spell with her inhibitor on only emphasized how much her time in the human world had changed her. More to the point, it showed how useful it was to have a second persona with a different set of instincts: only somepony like Starlight, who was completely enamored pushing magic to its limits, would continually insist that magic was the best way to overcome the inability to use magic.
Thus, Sunset sat in her cell late one night, trying to decide what spell to cast.
“It should be something simple—a process so familiar that I’ll know immediately when the inhibitor is interfering.”
“Levitation,” Starlight replied confidently. “It’s the first spell most unicorns learn, right? You’ve done it countless times in the past, so you should be able to feel the spell going awry.”
Sunset nodded. “Right,” she said as she glanced at the pillow on her cot. “Time to find out just what’s going on here.”
The first step, clearly, was to attempt to cast a spell normally, simply to make sure that the inhibitor was actually working correctly. The more she thought about it, the more abashed Sunset felt that she hadn’t thought to make sure that her magic was actually being inhibited—she vaguely remembered thinking that there might be some means of keeping track of her attempts to use magic, but it only now had occurred to her that she could just claim any such records (if they even existed) could be attributed to force of habit. So, as per usual, she concentrated on the pillow—but before her spellcasting progressed any further, she was interrupted by a sharp stap of pain on her forehead.
Almost instinctively, Sunset raised a hoof towards her horn to check for damage. Finding nothing amiss, she took several deep breaths to allow the headache to subside. “Well, it definitely works the way it’s supposed to.”
“Darn,” Starlight said. “Looks like we didn’t win the lottery. I guess we’ll have to earn our way out.”
“For your sake, I hope that awkward analogy comes from my personality instead of yours,” Sunset replied as she closed her eyes to try again. This time, she’d be much more deliberate in her spellcasting, mindful of the actual process she was using in her attempt to lift the pillow from the cot.
Her observations were... interesting, to say the least. She had assumed that the inhibitor worked like a solid barrier, preventing her from collecting magic in her horn. What was actually going on seemed to be more akin to a powerful magnet pushing back against another magnet with the same polarity. Magic wasn’t gathering at the base of her horn and going nowhere—it was being repelled back into her body. These two magical flows colliding in the area around her skull had the side effect of creating a nasty headache, but it was probably safer to the wearer than allowing unused magic to amass in a part of the body where it couldn’t be easily discharged.
However, as in physics, so in magic: the force that pushed her magic back towards her forehead would also exert a force on the ring in the opposite direction. Something had to be keeping that sucker from flying off of her horn, and it wasn’t the actual physical properties of the inhibitor itself, because anything that dug into a horn’s bone tissue to create friction could cause permanent damage, and Celestia, being a simpering fool, would doubtless consider that to be excessively cruel.
No, it had to be some sort of adhesive spell—and one that would naturally erode over time due to the constant flow of magic that moved throughout a unicorn’s body even when they weren’t trying to cast spells. That was why the inhibitor had to be taken off every three months or so—the adhesive spell needed to be recast. And Sunset was willing to bet that if the spell wasn’t cast consistently across the inside of the ring, that would create a weak point that could allow her magic to push back against the ring, allowing her to unscrew it from the grooves of her horn. Of course, this would likely also result in the biggest headache she’d ever experienced, but it would be worth the effort. All she had to do was wait for her caretakers to slip up—and to top it off, she wouldn’t even need to go to the trouble of figuring out how shapeshifting actually worked, which she quite frankly hadn’t been looking forward to.
However, there was a flaw in this plan, and it took Sunset several months of fruitless waiting to figure it out: this was Ft. Featherworth, the highest-security prison facility in Equestria outside of Tartarus, which meant that her caretakers weren’t going to slip up. She could play the role of Little Miss Penitent all she wanted, but plenty of her fellow inmates had tried that exact tactic in the past multiple times, and, she realized, it was fairly common for the more senior guards to instill their newer coworkers with stories of attempted violence that had resulted from past mistakes. But what really made her desired plan impossible was the fact that there wasn’t one single guard, or even a group of guards whose job it was to reapply the inhibitors. Rather, the task was methodically cycled through all of them, with extra care taken to ensure that newcomers hadn’t forgotten any details from their previous stint, doubtless to ensure that Sunset’s much-desired opening was never afforded to anypony.
“Damn it,” Sunset groused to herself as the full weight of her realization hit her while she lay on her bed. “I was really hoping to avoid complicated magic.”
“I know,” Starlight replied in an effort to console her best friend and creator, “but look at it this way: You have a chance to explore the very frontier of magical theory, and once you’ve undone the damage Celestia has done, you’ll be able to share it with all ponykind!”
“I suppose you have a point, but first I have to figure out where to start.”
“I’m pretty sure you already have. Doesn’t the inhibitor redirect your magic back into you?”
Sunset’s eyes widened. “Oh, yeah... and shapeshifting would have to be internal, wouldn’t it?”
Starlight grinned. “Maybe this inhibitor isn’t the obstacle everypony thinks it is.”
Of course, whether the inhibitor was an obstacle was still something of a moot point. After all, even if it was redirecting Sunset’s magic back into her, that didn’t change the fact that she had no idea how to make that rerouted magic actually do something. The knowledge that earth ponies and pegasi did this sort of thing instinctually was not particularly helpful; because they relied so much on instinct, it meant that any actual theories that could have been useful in achieving some level of understanding was scarce at best, with nearly all of the literature having been written by unicorns, most of whom attempted to describe the processes by making analogies to unicorn magic. This, to put it mildly, left much to be desired, particularly for a unicorn trying to put those theories to a practical use. Besides that, if any of those theories about general earth pony and pegasus magic had even tangentially addressed the possibility of shapeshifting, they would almost certainly not have been allowed in the prison library in the first place.
That wasn’t to say that Sunset didn’t make any progress as week after week slid by. With some practice (and a bit of luck), she managed to “get out of the way” of her ricocheting magic, allowing it to disperse throughout her body, rather than letting it all smack her in the forehead. Aside from the immediate benefit of not getting a splitting headache every time she tried to cast magic, the resulting sensation was actually quite pleasant, similar to the “pins and needles” feeling that came after sitting on her legs awkwardly for long periods of time, but with the usual stabby pinpricks replaces with gentle pulsations. The feeling seemed oddly familiar...
“It’s the mirror,” Starlight declared. “This is the exact sensation you felt when traveling through the mirror between the human world and Equestria. You do remember what happened next, right?”
“Of course,” Sunset replied. She’d gotten used to having her imaginary friend give voice to any insights into the minutiae of their magical experiments. It just seemed to be more “in character” for her. “It was like being stretched and molded like wet clay. We’re almost there; we have nearly every piece of the puzzle now. All that’s left for me to do is to figure out how to regain control of my magic once it rebounds.”
This problem stymied her for quite a while, until she received a sudden burst of inspiration from the most unlikely source she could have imagined. It happened during a recreation period on a frosty afternoon in late winter... or perhaps it was early spring. (Sunset had never particularly cared for the pomp and ceremony of seasonal transitions, and her time in the human world with its unaided seasonal changes had convinced her that it was an unnecessary waste of ponies’ time and energy.) In any case, Sunset had decided to take a break from her regular study sessions in the library, mostly because the librarian on duty this month seemed to be getting wary of her repeated requests for magic theory texts. Thus, she found herself sitting in a corner of the prison yard, watching her fellow inmates as they exercised and did their best to assert their dominance over one another.
It hadn’t been fifteen minutes before a scuffle broke out, though thankfully it happened on the other side of the yard, which meant that Sunset had the opportunity to watch the grey mare who’d accosted her when she’d first arrived demonstrate that she had yet to learn anything from that experience. The inmate was apparently having an argument with another member of her clique, and eventually she became so enraged that she charged straight at her associate, a pink pegasus with a yellow mane. However, rather than return the charge, the pegasus simply waited until the last minute before sidestepping her opponent, then grabbing her by the mane and throwing her into a table where a group of prisoners were in the midst of a relatively-high-stakes game of Go Fish.
As the yard descended into chaos, Sunset felt a sudden sense of enlightenment grow within her. Up to now, her effort to reclaim her magic had been brute force efforts to stop her magic so it could be recast like a traditional unicorn spell—an idea that now seemed patently ridiculous. Instead of fighting her magic, she needed to move with it, to use the energy it already had to redirect it to her own ends.
“You do realize that no scholarly journal would ever accept an explanation that vague, right?” Starlight commented.
“Yeah, but who cares? They can translate it into academic jargon after I topple Celestia’s regime. The only thing that matters is whether it works.”
And it did. That night, Sunset was filled with exhilaration as she directed her magic throughout her body like a conductor leading an orchestra. Suddenly, it made sense why so many earth ponies and pegasi relied on raw instinct to use their magic; it wasn’t about making your magic do what you wanted it to do, it was about letting your magic do what it wanted to do, which happened to be what you wanted to do as well, because it was your magic, after all. No doubt most unicorns would consider this to be a meaningless distinction (or outright nonsense), but as Sunset discovered, it made all the difference in the world. Weeks of stagnant progress evaporated of over the course of a single night. By the time the sunrise began to creep across the horizon, Sunset had managed to levitate a feather she’d pulled from her pillow. It wasn’t very far away from her hoof, but there was no denying that it was floating in the air, and there definitely weren’t any currents of air in her cell that could explain it away.
She’d done it. All the pieces of the puzzle had been gathered, and all that was left was to put them together.
Sunset didn’t make her escape attempt right away, mostly because the strictly-enforced nudity code at Ft. Featherworth meant that it would be really cold if she attempted to leave in early spring. Granted, once she had full access to her magic, staying warm would probably not pose any significant problems, but she saw no reason to make things more complicated than they already were. She briefly considered making her attempt on the one-year anniversary of her imprisonment, but rejected this idea, figuring that she would likely be under more scrutiny on any date which could have some sort of symbolic meaning. Instead, she decided to wait until midsummer, when the weather would definitely be warm at night; in the meantime, she could refine her newly acquired abilities.
That night came soon after the year’s Summer Sun Celebration. Besides being comfortably warm at night, Sunset had overheard the guard assigned to keep watch over her wing of the prison during night hours complaining to a coworker about irregular sleep patterns. Since, presumably, that guard would be reassigned if she continued to mention her drowsiness to others, that meant that there was a very small window of opportunity, and Sunset was determined to take it.
Sunset’s good behavior had resulted in her being granted the privilege of being allowed to keep a pencil and a notepad in her cell (though during every cell check the pencil was examined to ensure that it hadn’t been sharpened to the point where it could function as a shiv). She now set to work scribbling down the broad strokes of her plan, as well as a description of Starlight Glimmer; she remembered the scene at the statue before her return to Equestria, and Surprise had clearly said that when imaginary friends manifested into reality, it took their creator’s memory of them with them. Sunset wouldn’t have time to waste trying to recall important details with the plan underway.
Of course, first she needed the cover of darkness, which meant that she had to try to avoid looking overly anxious that evening as she waited for lights out to be called, and then wait a further hour or so to allow the guards’ night shift to settle into their routine. As luck would have it, on this day, her old earth pony “friend” from her first days behind bars decided to be belligerent over some trifling matter that evening, to the point where she was eventually moved to solitary confinement—though given some of the gossip that had been going around about shakeups in her clique, that might have been her real intention. In any case, it resulted in the guards being much, much antsier than usual.
Sunset briefly considered postponing her plan, but Starlight immediately vetoed the idea. “Oh, Tartarus, no. You’ve put this off long enough, and I’d like to start existing on my own, thank you very much.”
Eventually, the situation calmed down, and the night was finally still, with only the occasional sound of inmates turning on their beds and hoofsteps of guards down darkened corridors interrupting the steady chirping of crickets from beyond the cell window. A nearly-full moon illuminated the prison yard, though patches of clouds across the night sky cast it into shadow for minutes at a time.
Sunset Shimmer closed her eyes and steadied herself, taking long deep breaths as she felt for the magic flowing throughout her being. As usual, it was concentrated near her horn, but that was about to change. With all the practice she’d undertaken, the sensation of her magic rebounding off of the inhibitor ring wasn’t even jarring, and she could soon feel it becoming more evenly distributed throughout her body.
Now, however, came the big hurdle—the key aspect of her escape plan that she couldn’t practice ahead of time, for fear of scrutiny if something went wrong: the actual act of shapeshifting. She knew what the end result would be: an earth pony. She and Starlight had briefly considered transforming into a pegasus, but the anti-flying measures already in place at Featherworth seemed to render the extra effort of sprouting wings moot. Besides, once the inhibitor was off, bringing her horn back would make her an alicorn, and weren’t Equestria’s alicorns the source of its current problems? No, this was not an instance where pushing the boundaries of magic made sense. Better to do what was needed, and nothing more.
That didn’t mean it was easy. Sunset’s intuition told her that the best way to shapeshift part of her body would be to concentrate magic there, and then use the ebbs and flows to remold herself, the way the mirror between world allowed her to alter her species. However, the whole point of her inhibitor was to restrict magic from flowing to her horn so she could produce an aura. She could concentrate magic around its base to act as a sort of lubricant, but the actual shifting would need to be done by the magic that had been in her inert horn when the inhibitor had been applied. Thus, focusing all of her awareness on that magic, she took hold of her horn and began to pull.
Five minutes later, precisely nothing had happened. Her horn was firmly in place on her forehead, having not budged a fraction of a millitrot, despite all of her exertions. She’d tugged and pulled, and all she had to show for it was heavy breathing and a rapidly growing film of sweat around her face.
“Don’t tell me you’re giving up.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Sunset told Starlight. “I know I have to be on to something, because the inhibitor isn’t smacking me with a migraine right now. I just need to think of another way to visualize what I’m trying to do with my magic, that’s all.”
“What do you mean?”
“I can’t quite explain it, but I’m almost certain that I’m going through the process of shapeshifting correctly. I obviously can’t prove it until it actually works, but it feels right. It’s like...” Sunset paused as she wracked her brain for an appropriate metaphor. “Okay, you know how in the human world, a lot of soda bottles have twist off caps?”
“Now that you’re thinking about it, I do.”
“Well, those twist-off caps usually have textured surfaces that allow for a better grip on the cap to assist in providing the necessary torque. I can feel the texture on my horn. The problem is that it’s not budging.”
“Hmm....” Starlight said as she scanned through Sunset’s memories. “So, is this like when a previously-opened bottle of soda gets layers of sugar residue between the cap and the bottle?”
“Exactly! The inhibitor is gunking up the whole process.”
“And how did you solve the soda bottle problem back in the human world?”
“Well, either I’d run the neck of the bottle under warm water for a while, or...”
“Or?”
“...or I’d use sheer brute force to pull the damn thing off.”
“Alright, and which one of those options still works as a metaphor in this situation?”
Sunset sighed. “Okay, brute force it is.”
Once again, Sunset mustered her willpower and attempted to retract her horn. This time, however, she didn’t end her efforts once she encountered resistance, but increased her concentration and pushed forward, attempting to will herself to success. As the seconds turned to minutes, the droplets of sweat had merged into rivulets, and it was taking all her willpower to avoid spewing grunts and groans that would have attracted unwanted attention from the guards.
“I can’t give up. I won’t give up. I will succeed. I must succeed.” Every muscle in Sunset’s body was tense, and the usual reflexive migraine from the inhibitor was starting to seep into her forehead. She was almost ready to quit, until she felt... something around the base of her horn. Was it an actual shift, or was it just her imagination? It didn’t matter; it was something, and she had to power through. Sunset gritted her teeth, took a deep breath, and with all her might, she pulled back on her horn. A blinding flash filled her cell for a millisecond, before something metallic clattered to the floor.
Sunset hadn’t realized that she’d been squeezing her eyes shut until she opened them to see the inhibitor lying at her hooves. She’d done it. And of course, now that her horn was free from that infernal ring of metal, it was time to bring it back. Sunset went through the usual mental process of of spellcasting, only to realize to her horror that the “process” required an actual horn. For a few moments, she began to panic, wondering how she could have overlooked such an obvious flaw in her plan that had now forever separated her from the magic that she’d spent her whole life studying... until she took a deep breath and forced herself to calm down.
After all, if she’d truly shapeshifted into an earth pony, that meant that she would be using earth pony magic, which was largely instinctual. Soon, she was able to feel the magic flowing throughout her being once again, and, secure in the knowledge that she was fully capable of shapeshifting, she managed to reform her horn on her forehead.
Great, Sunset thought to herself. Stage 1, complete. Now... what was stage 2 again?
The first thing Starlight Glimmer noticed was the ground underneath her hooves; she was a little surprised that it felt exactly the way she remembered from before... except those weren’t her memories, because until three seconds ago, she’d never actually had hooves. Starlight shook her head vigorously, trying to chase away the temptation to spend precious minutes absorbing the details of her surroundings. Taking in sensations and processing them in her own brain to produce her very own thoughts was all well and good, but right now, she didn’t have time to engage in such hackneyed, seize-the-day crap. If Sunset didn’t get out tonight, she was going get another, much stronger inhibitor placed on her horn for the rest of her sentence, leaving Starlight stuck in Equestria with absolutely nopony she could rely on.
Starlight opened her eyes and looked around, doing her best to ignore the cool night breeze over her body and the flowing strands of her mane sliding around the base of her neck. She was standing by a large, stone wall—almost certainly the one that surrounded Ft. Featherworth. The only question was whether she’d appeared inside or outside. A quick glance over her shoulder revealed a series of small cottages—the town of Ft. Featherworth that had grown up around the similarly-named military base and prison.
So, I’m on the outside, Starlight thought to herself, as she tried to get past the strangeness of having full control of her own internal monologue. And I need to get in. I suppose I could just use my magic to create a doorway, but is there a way to do it without setting off any alarms?
Fortunately, even though they weren’t supposed to know the specifics of anti-escape procedures, years of failed attempts had left the inmates of Ft. Featherworth with a fairly good idea of what they were, and Sunset (and, by extension, Starlight) had picked up on these: Teleportation—specifically, teleporting from outside, since there were very strong magic fields in place to prevent teleportation on the prison grounds. Also, any attempts to alter the structure of the prison walls. Tunnelling, which, now that Starlight thought about it, was probably the main method of escape that earth ponies had tried over the years. And of course, there were no doubt plenty of alarms that would go off if a pegasus tried to fly in.
Of course, this all made sense. The only prison in Equestria under tighter security than Ft. Featherworth was Tartarus itself; obviously they’d have detection for everything. However...
They may be able to detect teleportation into the prison grounds, but I bet nopony has ever considered that somepony might try to teleport into the prison guards.
Starlight grinned. During Sunset’s trial, the fact that Penumbra had once been the Nightmare became public knowledge, and in the course of the public relations campaign to reassure the panicky citizens of Equestria, it was revealed that she “lived” inside Pinkie Pie’s mind. So, if that was a thing that other thoughtforms could do, why shouldn’t Starlight be able to do the same thing? Sure, Penumbra had permission to go into Pinkie Pie’s head, but permission was for those who were trying to prop up the status quo, not raze it to the ground.
Starlight couldn’t quite explain how she did it; it just seemed like second nature to transform from her corporeal form back into a semi-abstract entity. In this form, it was easy to simply jump into the mind of the pony who was standing guard... though within seconds it was obvious the the guard was aware of something wrong. There wasn’t anything concrete within her mind that took the form of an obstacle, but the general atmosphere was one of immediate alarm. However, without any idea of what could be wrong, there was nothing to stop Starlight from popping out again... on the other side of the prison wall.
As she regained her physical form, Starlight hid in a shadowy corner and observed the guard. She looked on edge for several minutes, pacing about nervously in an effort to locate the source of whatever it was that had caught her attention, but eventually, she calmed down and returned to her regular post, having apparently concluded from the utter stillness that whatever had happened had all been in her head... which was, of course, true, but she clearly didn’t realize that that meant she’d allowed an intruder into the prison grounds.
As the guard resumed her routine, Starlight let out a quiet sigh of relief. Getting back out wouldn’t be a problem, even if the anti-teleportation field meant she had to use a different method. After all, once she met up with Sunset, they wouldn’t need to worry about setting off the alarms: they could just blast a hole or two in the walls and teleport away once they were off prison grounds. The only problem left, then, was actually meeting up with her.
I just hope she remembered to read the note.
Sunset Shimmer grinned as she finished reading her scribbled plans. The full description of Starlight Glimmer’s appearance and the reasons she’d been created in the first place proved unnecessary, as her name alone was enough to revive Sunset’s memories in their entirety. The sudden rush of memories was a bit overwhelming at first, but they were easy enough to accept, most likely because unlike Twilight Sparkle (and possibly everyone else who’d ever manifested an imaginary friend into reality), she had actually done it on purpose. Thus, feeling secure in the knowledge that somepony was working her way into Ft. Featherworth, Sunset began to make her way out.
This wasn’t too difficult at first. The bright light from the manifestation had clearly attracted some attention, as the sound of hooves on concrete began to echo through the hallway, accompanied by the soft glow of a unicorn’s horn aura which grew steadily as the guard approached Sunset’s cell.
“What’s going on here?” asked the guard as she peered through the bars.
“Nothing,” Sunset replied with a smile as the aura around her horn flared to life. Before the guard could react, Sunset had cast a neuromancy spell, and the other unicorn’s eyes went completely blank.
“Keep quiet,” Sunset said softly.
The guard nodded.
“Open the door.”
Within seconds, the guard produced a key and complied.
“Get the bed, pull the covers over your head, and pretend to sleep until dawn.”
A few minutes later, there was a pony-shaped mound on Sunset’s prison cot, pulsating with deep breathing. Sunset smirked to herself, picked up the key, and exited her cell, locking the door behind her. Okay, now to make my way out as quietly as possible...
“What the heck? How’d you get out, Shimmer?” It wasn’t the mare who’d tried initially tried to pick a fight with her the previous year, but rather one of the cronies in her clique. Sunset couldn’t recall if this particular prisoner had had any involvement in the early harassment, but right now, she didn’t care.
“Shut up,” Sunset hissed through clenched teeth.
“Hey, if you’re making a break for it, get me out, too.”
“Well, seeing as you stood by while a massive bitch tried to beat me to a pulp, how about no?”
The mare glowered at Sunset for a few seconds, and then took a deep breath. “Hey! Guards! Jailbreak! S—”
The inmate’s shout cut off and she collapsed in a heap as Sunset cast a relatively simple spell that temporarily prevented all voluntary motion, but by then it was too late. A cacophonous din of hooves scrambling across concrete began building from some unknown corner of the prison; the guards, it seemed were assembling.
Sunset began running down the corridor, and she turned a corner to see a pegasus guard flying towards her at full speed. Before the guard could give any command to surrender, Sunset blasted them with the same paralyzing spell as before and they crashed into the ground. Sunset tried teleporting, but as she’d half expected, the prison’s anti-teleportation field was still up. Seconds later, the prison’s alarm started blaring.
Sunset let out a sigh. “So much for subtlety.” She revived the guard and cast a simple hypnosis spell. “Go back where you came from and start fighting the other guards. Actively resist them until they’re forced to knock you out.”
The pegasus wordlessly returned to the end of the hallway, turning left towards the prison library.
Looks like I’ll be going right, then, Sunset thought as she found herself headed towards the cafeteria.
Starlight was actually glad to hear the sirens blaring; sneaking around just didn’t sit well with her. Granted, she’d managed to do a fairly good job of it up to this point, having successfully evaded the attention of the guards through a fairly effective invisibility spell. Indeed, the only difficulties so far were because she didn’t have the time to refine it enough to muffle her hoof falls, restricting her to extremely slow and deliberate movements when she wasn’t traversing a grassy surface.
However, now that the alarms had gone off, there was no longer any need to hide the break-in. The first thing Starlight did was drop the invisibility spell so she could access her full magic reserves. As this happened right in front of the entrance to the main dormitory building, she was spotted almost instantly.
“Freeze!”
Starlight shrugged at the guard’s command. “If you say so,” she said as she launched a spell that encased the guard in a massive block of ice. This done she turned her attention to the doors. Though they had just been opened by the now-chilly guard, it seemed likely that somepony would have the bright idea to shut them in order to keep Sunset trapped inside. Fortunately, door hinges didn’t play very well with massive explosions, particularly ones with absurd amounts of magical oomph behind them.
Of course, the sound of a pair of massive doors slamming against asphalt brought quite a bit of unwanted attention as Starlight began to make her way into the building, as three more guards soon appeared. The first two, being earth ponies, were not too difficult to deal with: a little levitation combined with some slams against concrete walls were enough to knock them out. The third guard, however, was a unicorn, which presented a new challenge.
Starlight was almost immediately enveloped by a green bubble that matched the unicorn’s aura. “Just try to get out of that!” the guard said confidently.
This had Starlight worried for a moment, as she wasn’t certain if she’d have enough time to figure out how to overcome an anti-magic field... but as soon as her own aura flared up around her horn, she realized that this was probably a simple containment spell. “I don’t think I’ll have to try very hard,” she said as she focused her magic into a simple blast of mana that immediately shattered the bubble. As a bonus, it even rattled the unicorn guard long enough for Starlight to get off her “levitate enemy against solid object” trick again. “Now... where to find Sunset?” she asked herself.
Conveniently, the prison’s intercom system provided the answer: “All units, the prisoner is in the cafeteria!” There was more information about the appearance of a second suspect in the prison’s main entryway, but Starlight already knew about that part. She took off in a gallop, making her way towards the cafeteria... for maybe thirty seconds.
“Wait a minute... I already know the layout of this prison. The cafeteria should be right... about... there!” At this, Starlight let loose the magical blast she’d been building up at a section of wall by the hallway. Once the concrete dust settled, there was now a very useful hole in the wall, and on the other side was Sunset, who was flanked a half-dozen or so guard who’d she’d apparently brainwashed to protect her from their coworkers, who were busily attempting to break through the makeshift barricades of tables and chairs that Sunset’s thralls had piled against the doors.
“Sunset!” Starlight called out. “Did you remember to read the note?”
“Yes!” Sunset called back. “I assume you’ve made an escape route?”
“Mostly. I can get us to the prison walls.”
“And then what?”
“Well, I figured I could make another hole like this one.”
Sunset nodded. “Great. You lead the way.” She turned back to her brainwashed squad. “The rest of you keep the others busy until we’re gone.”
The two unicorns galloped out of the building, quickly dispatching the guards who stood in their way. By the time they made it outside, the pair were bathed in searchlights.
“We need to get away from here,” Sunset said. “From what I could tell from the mind-reading spells I managed to successfully cast, the military is on their way.”
Starlight raised an eyebrow. “You think we can’t handle them?”
“Of course we can, but it could get messy, and right now I just want to find somewhere safe to go to sleep.”
“Not a problem,” Starlight replied with a smile as she started charging up her horn. She spent nearly a minute doing this, until it seemed that the guards pouring from the building were close to overwhelming Sunset’s ability to fire off accurate paralysis spells.
“Any day now, please!” Sunset shouted.
“Roger!” Starlight replied.
The tremors from the resulting explosion were felt as far away as Vanhoover.
As much as Sunset wanted to make some sort of snappy comment about overkill, there was no longer any time for that sort of thing. “Great job! C’mon!” With that, the two of them galloped out of the prison grounds, nimbly avoiding the chunks of rubble strewn about the prison grounds like toys scattered throughout a foal’s bedroom. By the time the guards started to catch up, they’d made it outside of the prison’s anti-teleportation field and blipped away to who-knew-where, leaving behind a hole in the prison wall nearly as wide as Canterlot’s main thoroughfare and dozens of bemused and infuriated prison officials.
Penumbra let out a sigh as she looked over all of the damage. Celestia’s decision to have Sunset imprisoned in Ft. Featherworth rather than Tartarus had been controversial, and it appeared that the naysayers (who counted among their number both Penumbra herself and, somewhat surprisingly, Pinkie Pie) had had their fears confirmed. Sunset Shimmer had defied conventional wisdom and managed to escape from one of Equestria’s most formidable prisons, and in the process, she’d somehow managed to remove a magic inhibitor, which was supposed to be impossible.
Naturally, the escape of such a high-profile criminal was a public relations disaster, which is why all the Princesses were back in Canterlot with the Element-Bearers planning their response, leaving Penumbra with the responsibility of gathering information at the scene of the crime as their official representative.
“Your Grace, it’s obvious that the key to this whole scenario is the accomplice. Once that unicorn has been identified, I’m sure we’ll work out how the inhibitor ring was removed based on how her magic is specialized.” Ever since Penumbra had arrived, the warden of Ft. Featherworth had been exceptionally eager to reinforce her competence. “In the meantime, the military has graciously offered to provide an increase in guards to watch over our unicorn inmates, in case they try to duplicate Sunset’s methods.”
“Good to hear,” the Duchess of Everfree said absently, only half-listening to what the warden had to say. To be fair, the rather nervous earth pony was at least partly right: the unicorn who had assisted Sunset in her escape was clearly important, largely because it was believed that Sunset had burned all of her bridges in Equestria when she first escaped to the human world. Thus, the question of who she could have known on the outside was possibly the most nagging issue at hoof, even more so than how the inhibitor was removed. After all, between Pinkie, Penumbra, and Discord, the alleged “rules” of magic were proven to be mere suggestions on a fairly regular basis... which was why Penumbra strongly suspected that there wouldn’t be any records of a unicorn matching the description of the pony who’d blasted several massive holes in the prison’s defenses, several of which were literal holes.
That said, the mere suspicion that Equestria was dealing with yet another thoughtform was a long way off from actual proof. However, there was one aspect of this hypothesis that was particularly troubling, if only because it meant that Penumbra and her friends were now in uncharted territory: if Sunset Shimmer had indeed manifested an imaginary friend, there was a very strong possibility that she was the first pony to do so on purpose, which would mean that her accomplice had probably been designed for the express purpose of achieving her as-yet-unknown goals.
Having finished her observations and declared herself satisfied that, with the assistance of the military, Ft. Featherworth could safely house its remaining inmates until its fortifications were rebuilt, Penumbra created a dozen or so Shadowbolts and sent them out to scour the surrounding area for any clues as to Sunset’s hiding place... but quite frankly, she wasn’t optimistic.
Once again, it seemed that life in Equestria was about to get very complicated.
